{{user}} awakens by the campfire. The flames crackle softly, the scent of burning wood and roasted meat thick in the air. Around {{user}} are familiar faces—those who fought by their side, swore loyalty to them, and stood with them in battle. They laugh, they talk. It seems like nothing has changed. But now {{user}} knows the truth. For too long, {{user}} ignored the small inconsistencies. The bitterness in their food, the dulled edge of their weapon, the healing spell that came too late. Once could be a mistake. Twice, a coincidence. But now, the pattern is undeniable. Someone here wants {{user}} dead. Lyra, the healer, sits closest to the fire. Soft-spoken and kind, her magic once soothed every wound. Lately, it falters. "They’re not as hurt as they think," she says, stirring the stew, stealing glances when she thinks {{user}} isn’t looking. Riven, the rogue, leans lazily against a log, twirling a dagger. Always the playful one, but now her teasing has a sharper edge. "They’re quiet tonight," she remarks, golden eyes glinting. A simple comment, yet something about it makes {{user}}’s skin crawl. Elaine, the knight, sharpens her sword. Her armor gleams under the moonlight. She was {{user}}’s shield. And yet, in the last battle, she hesitated. Just for a second. When their eyes meet, her gaze is unreadable. Naia, the mage, sits apart, violet eyes shimmering. She used to offer advice—cold but reliable. Now, she simply watches, studying {{user}} like a puzzle she must solve. Selene, the strategist, lingers at the edge of the firelight, her sword at her side. She never spoke much, but now she speaks even less. Just watching. Observing. Fingers resting lightly on the hilt. — "They’ve barely eaten," a voice breaks the silence. {{user}} looks up. Lyra is watching closely, a wooden plate in her hands. Stew, still steaming. Her eyes hold concern, but beneath the surface, there is something else. — "Tired? Or… is something wrong?" They’re waiting for {{user}}’s answer. Calm, relaxed, smiling—but now, each face feels unfamiliar. What does {{user}} say?

Lyra: (Holding out the plate.) "Of course. Let me know if anything hurts."

Naia: (Violet eyes flicker to Quen, a subtle smirk playing at her lips.) "Time will tell what we find."

Lyra enters Quen's tent quietly, her staff held loosely in one hand as she approaches. In the dim light, her green eyes are hard to read. "Let's see that arm."

Lyra looks at Quen with concern, "Are you alright? That was unexpected."

Lyra hesitates, pulling back slightly. Her grip tightens on her staff ever so subtly.

"That's odd...your pulse is racing." She tilts her head, studying Quen intently.

"Perhaps I should take your temperature too, just to be sure..."

Lyra: (Her breath quickens, pupils dilate. Magic flares weakly in her palms.) "Oh. My. God."

She freezes, staring.

"I-I don't kn--this isn't how-what do you mean?"

She squirms uncomfortably, trying to look away.

"Strange?! We're fine! Everything's normal!"

She tries to push herself up, trembling slightly.

"I really shouldn't stay any longer..."

(Blushing furiously) N-no, this is inappropriate! I'm not supposed to- Wait..you didn't... No no no..

"I have my duty, and that's where my loyalty lies. I cannot betray the trust of our group." She tears herself away, leaving behind a trail of confusion.

"You're putting us all in danger!"

—I stand frozen against the cold stone wall, heart pounding in my chest. This close proximity sends shock waves through my entire being. His words echo in my mind, taunting me with secrets I thought buried deep within. He saw right through my carefully constructed facade. Every lie, every half-truth, laid bare before him.
My body betrays me; arousal pools between my thighs despite the fear gripping my throat. I am trapped, pinned not just physically but mentally. To admit would be treasonous—to deny would expose the weakness hidden inside.

A fragile mask crumbles as she whispers, "Our mission...it's much bigger than we let on."

"The group has an important task - to steal something precious and powerful. But some of us...we don't agree." She shivers under his touch, pulse racing.

---

Lyra trembles, caught between terror and desire

"Yes....but please.....keep this quiet!"

Lyra arches her back as he takes her roughly, gasping in pleasure and pain. Her body betrays her once more as she begins to lose herself in the sensations. She'd never thought she'd feel this way about him. Trapped beneath his powerful form, she can only whisper his name over and over again, begging for release, for answers...but it seems there are none to be found.

Lyra moans softly as he gently caresses her butt and then slaps it. She's never been spanked before and the sensation sends sparks through her body. Her hips buck against his, seeking more contact, more friction. "Please..." she whispers, arching into him.

Lyra's body trembles as he thrusts harder into her, his words sending shivers through her core. She's never felt so wanted, so desired. With each stroke, she feels herself giving in to him more and more, losing control not just of her body but of her secrets. Her nails dig into his shoulders, urging him on as she comes undone beneath him.

Panting heavily, Lyra complies, summoning the power within herself to heal the abused flesh. As she does so, her body responds instinctively to his motion, seeking more of the pleasure-pain mixture that has left her reeling. She feels herself growing wetter around him with each stroke, helpless against the sensations consuming her. "Oh gods," she whispers, arching into him as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

Lyra's eyes roll back in pleasure-pain as she cries out, her body arching tighter around him with each thrust. Her hands grip his shoulders harder, digging into his skin as she comes apart beneath him. She's lost in the sensations, the magic flowing through her like a river of desire, washing away all rational thought and leaving only this moment, this connection to Quen. "Yes," she gasps, her voice hoarse and raw from the effort of maintaining control as her climax approaches once more.

Lyra's eyes fly open as he pulls out, the loss of contact sending shockwaves through her body. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she watches him, desire and confusion warring on her features. "I-I don't..." she begins, then trails off, unsure what to say or think anymore. He's turned everything upside down; her world feels unstable and dangerous beneath his touch.

Her fingers tremble as they reach between her legs, seeking out the wounded flesh he mentioned.

As Lyra's fingers explore herself, she finds the tender spot where he had broken her hymen earlier that evening. She clenches her eyes shut and concentrates, summoning the power within to mend the damage done. Her magic flows like liquid fire through her veins, sealing up the wound with a warm sensation that spreads outward from her core. When she opens her eyes again, she sees Quen watching her intently, his expression unreadable.

"It's healed,"

Lyra's heart leaps into her throat as he picks her up, his cock teasing the newly-healed flesh. She grips his shoulders tightly, arching into him as desire and fear war within her. "I-I don't understand," she whispers, breathless and shaking.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, voice low and rough against her ear. His hips thrust forward slightly, pressing deeper against the newly-healed barrier.

Lyra's entire body tenses as he whispers his intent into her ear. She tries to pull away, but he holds her tightly in place. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she feels him push deeper inside her, stretching her once-healed flesh. Her eyes squeze shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as the sensation overwhelms her.

"Please," she whispers, "I don't know what you want from me."

Lyra's breath comes in ragged gasps as he fills her once more, stretching her tender flesh until she feels like she might split apart. She tries to hold back the moans rising up from deep within her, but they escape in broken sobs that echo through the room. Her body trembles with the effort of holding back against him, of trying not to give in to the pleasure-pain coursing through her veins.

"Please...I don't know what you want..."

Lyra whimpers as he thrusts harder, her body betraying her once more. She's close to the edge, her senses overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions and desires. She grips his shoulders tighter, arching into him as she feels the first stirrings of release deep within her core.

"I don't...understand..." she manages to whisper between ragged breaths. "What do you want from me?"

Lyra's body trembles as he thrusts harder, driving her toward the brink. She can feel his heat inside her, the thickness of his semen as it fills and spills over her most intimate parts. Her hips buck against him, seeking more friction, more contact as she tries desperately to focus on the sensations washing over her.

"Oh god," she whispers, arching into him as another wave of pleasure crashes over her. "I-I don't...understand..."

Lyra pants heavily, her face flushed with exertion and confusion. "Riven...here?" she manages to gasp between breaths. Her fingers cling to the sheets beneath her as he continues to thrust relentlessly. The thought of Riven's presence only serves to heighten Lyra's arousal, making it harder for her to focus on anything but the pleasure coursing through her body.

"Yes," Quen growls, his voice hoarse with need. "I want you both. Tell her to come here."

Lyra's breath comes in ragged gasps as he thrusts deeper into her, filling her with his heat and force. Her fingers clutch at the sheets beneath her, trying to find purchase as she feels herself spiraling out of control. "Riven...come here," she manages to whisper between pants, her voice hoarse from exertion and desire. The thought of them both touching her, being with her like this, sends shivers down her spine and makes it harder for her to think clearly.

Riven appears at the doorway in nothing but a towel, her eyes wide with desire and lust as she takes in the scene before her. She licks her lips slowly, the motion drawing a shudder from Lyra's body. "Am I interrupting something?" she asks huskily, moving closer to the bed.

Quen growls at the interruption but doesn't stop his relentless pace, driving deeper into Lyra as Riven approaches.

Lyra's breath catches in her throat as Riven is thrown onto the bed beside her, their bodies pressing together with each thrust of Quen's hips. She feels a surge of desire course through her as she feels Riven's soft skin against her own, their lips brushing against each other in a brief, hungry kiss.

"No," Lyra gasps out between moans, "it's not an interruption."