Strange voices haunted their camp, echoing from the cliffs. They were faint at first, indistinct murmurs that could be dismissed as tricks of the wind or the shifting mist. But as the night deepened, the whispers grew louder, more insistent, threading through the air like invisible tendrils seeking purchase in vulnerable minds.
Arin sat near the dying embers of their fire, staring into the flickering light as exhaustion warred with unease. The medallion pulsed faintly against his chest, its rhythm steady but somehow watchful, as if it too sensed the encroaching danger.
"Did you hear that?" Pyx whispered, her freckles dimmed to almost nothing in the darkness. She sat cross-legged beside Arin, her usual energy subdued by the oppressive atmosphere. "It sounded like... my name."
Arin glanced at her sharply. "Your name?"
She nodded, her curls bouncing slightly even in her tension. "I swear it was my mother's voice. But she's back at the Academy—or what's left of it."
Before Arin could respond, one of the students near the edge of their camp let out a startled cry. The group immediately tensed, hands going to weapons and Qi patterns forming instinctively in the air.
"What happened?" Master Kairo demanded, his celestial mask glowing faintly in the firelight as he strode toward the commotion.
"It's gone!" The student—a wiry boy named Dalen—held up an empty bag that had clearly been slashed open. "My rations—they're missing!"
"Then you should have kept better watch over them," snapped Vex, who had taken up a position near the fire with Nara. His copper skin shimmered faintly in the dim light as he folded his arms across his chest. "We're all struggling here. Don't expect handouts because you were careless."
"I didn't lose them!" Dalen shot back, his voice rising. "Someone took them! And maybe it was you!"
The accusation hung in the air like a physical weight, drawing uneasy glances from other members of the group.
"Enough," Liora said sharply, stepping forward with an authority that silenced both students instantly. Her braided hair gleamed faintly with starlight as she fixed them each with a piercing stare. "We fracture, we die."
Her words cut through the tension like a blade, reminding everyone of their precarious situation. The northern territories were dangerous enough without infighting among their own ranks.
"Let's not forget," Liora continued, her voice calm but firm, "that we are being hunted by forces far more dangerous than petty thieves or misplaced supplies. If we don't trust each other now, we won't survive long enough to reach the Temple."
The group fell silent under her gaze, though unease lingered like smoke from a smoldering fire.
Arin exchanged a look with Pyx, who shrugged slightly as if to say What can we do? The whispers continued to thread through the air around them—soft enough to be ignored if one tried hard enough but persistent enough to gnaw at already frayed nerves.
As they settled back into uneasy rest, Arin couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them—not just from outside their camp but from within it.
The whispers grew louder as the night wore on.
They seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once—echoing off cliffs that loomed invisibly beyond their campfire's meager light and threading through conversations like unseen fingers tugging at loose threads.
By midnight, paranoia had taken hold of the group. Supplies continued to vanish—small items at first: a water flask here, a roll of bandages there—but enough to stoke suspicion among exhausted survivors.
The breaking point came when Dalen accused another student—a quiet girl named Lira—of being an agent of the Crimson Hand.
"You've been acting strange since we left the Academy," Dalen spat, pointing an accusing finger at her trembling form. "Always hanging back from the group, always watching us like you're waiting for something!"
Lira recoiled as if struck physically by his words. "That's not true! I've been helping where I can—"
"Liar!" Dalen interrupted harshly. "You're working with them! You're trying to sabotage us!"
The camp erupted into chaos as others began shouting over each other—some defending Lira while others voiced their own suspicions about various members of the group.
Arin stood abruptly, his voice cutting through the cacophony with unexpected force. "Stop it! All of you!"
The group froze at his outburst—partly because of its intensity and partly because they all knew who he was: Catalyst and vessel alike.
"This is exactly what they want," Arin continued more calmly but no less firmly. "For us to turn on each other so they don't have to lift a finger."
Master Kairo stepped forward then—his presence commanding immediate respect despite his exhaustion—and placed a hand on Dalen's shoulder.
"Enough," Kairo said quietly but firmly enough that Dalen lowered his gaze in shame. "We are all tired and frightened—but fear is no excuse for cruelty."
He turned back toward Lira with an expression softened by compassion rather than judgment. "No one here is above suspicion—not even myself—but accusations without evidence serve only our enemies."
Liora stepped forward again then—her voice steady despite its weariness—and repeated her earlier warning: "We fracture; we die."
As tensions eased slightly under Kairo and Liora's leadership—and apologies were reluctantly exchanged—the camp settled once more into uneasy silence broken only by occasional murmurs from those still too restless for sleep.
Arin lay awake near Pyx while others slept fitfully around them—or pretended to sleep while keeping wary eyes on their surroundings—and tried desperately not to listen too closely to those haunting whispers still threading through darkness beyond firelight.
But sleep eventually claimed him despite himself—and brought no comfort when it did—for dreams twisted themselves into nightmares filled with shadowy figures whose faces shifted constantly between familiar ones (Pyx? Lysander?) and unfamiliar ones (Elysia Vex?).
Arin awoke suddenly—not from nightmares but from cold steel pressed against his throat.
A knife hovered inches away from skin already prickling under its proximity while wild eyes stared down at him from above—a desperate survivor whose face twisted between fear-driven rage & something darker lurking beneath surface-level desperation (corruption?).
Before he could react further—or cry out for help—the assailant collapsed suddenly onto ground beside him while shadowy tendrils retreated silently into mist surrounding campfire's dying embers like smoke dissipating after extinguished flame…
"The Crimson Hand's corruption spreads," Kairo murmured nearby while stepping forward cautiously toward fallen figure whose breathing remained shallow but steady despite collapse moments earlier… "Even among us."