Andrei sat up, his mind racing. The weight of the dream pressed heavily on him, but the fear lingered in the pit of his stomach. What if it wasn't just a dream? What if it was a warning?
He looked around the camp, his eyes darting to each of his companions. Jea, Athena, Juan—they were all still asleep, unaware of the vision that had just haunted him. But something in his gut told him that the nightmare wasn't just a figment of his mind. He could still hear the echoes of Mathea's voice, distorted with anger and betrayal.
Andrei felt a tight knot form in his chest. The darkness inside him swelled, feeding off his fear. His magic—his thread—was slipping away, leaving him weaker, more vulnerable with each passing hour. He could already feel the pull of the shadows, urging him to leave, to find the power he so desperately craved.
His thoughts turned back to Lord Anjo. In his desperation to regain his lost magic, he had been so focused on the wrong things. The darkness inside him had promised him power, but it was a power that would consume him, just as it had consumed Lord Anjo.
He couldn't let it happen. He couldn't allow his friends to get caught up in his mess. They were better off without him.
And with that, the decision was made.
Andrei stood up quietly, his movements deliberate as he gathered what little he had with him. He glanced back one last time at the sleeping group, his heart heavy with guilt. He had failed them. And if he stayed, he feared he would bring even more danger to them. He couldn't let that happen.
With a final, silent breath, Andrei turned and disappeared into the night, slipping away from the camp and the warmth of the fire.
The dark forest waited for him. Lord Anjo's twisted fate awaited. And Andrei was determined to face it alone, hoping that, somehow, he could find redemption in the darkness that now consumed him.
But in the distance, hidden in the shadows, the figures who had been watching from afar knew better. They watched as Andrei fled, as his resolve solidified, and as the group remained unaware of the storm about to descend upon them.
The game was far from over.
The morning air was thick with the heavy silence of the forest as the group awoke. The campfire, which had burned brightly the night before, now smoldered in a heap of ashes. Athena was the first to stir, yawning and stretching beneath the canopy, but as her eyes scanned the camp, she froze.
"Andrei..." she murmured, noticing the empty spot where the man had once laid.
Jea and Mathea, too, sat up in alarm, their eyes scanning the surroundings. There was no sign of Andrei. His blanket was undisturbed, and his gear was gone. But the more they searched, the more the unease crept into their hearts.
"He's not here," Jea said, her voice low with worry. She stood, her eyes narrowing as she felt the lingering shadows of the forest around them. "Something's wrong."
Mathea's face tightened. She had feared this moment, though she hadn't wanted to admit it. Andrei had been struggling with his inner demons, but now, with the dark pull of his magic slipping away, something had changed. It wasn't just the nightmare that had plagued him—it was something darker. Something that had driven him to leave.
"He must have gone after Lord Anjo," Mathea whispered, almost to herself. But even as the words left her mouth, she knew there was more to it. Something didn't sit right.
They searched the area near the camp, calling out his name, though their voices were drowned by the heavy, oppressive silence of the dark woods. The feeling of being watched lingered like a suffocating mist.
By midday, they had found nothing but the echoes of their own voices, their footsteps disturbed only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Andrei was nowhere to be found.
Then, as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, they saw it.