The Trap is Set

Night fell upon the camp, draping everything in an unsettling stillness. The fire had burned low, casting only faint embers that glowed like watchful eyes in the dark. Evelyn sat inside her tent, her sword resting on her lap. She had dismissed her guards, making sure her plan appeared convincing. If the traitor was among them, they would act soon.

Kael and Lysara were hidden nearby, their presence masked in the surrounding shadows. They had taken positions where they could see her tent but remain unseen, waiting for the enemy to make a move.

The air grew colder, thick with anticipation. Evelyn kept her breathing slow, controlled. Every muscle in her body remained tense, ready to strike the moment danger revealed itself. Hours passed with nothing but the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures.

Then—footsteps.

Light, deliberate, creeping ever closer to her tent. Evelyn's fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword as she resisted the urge to leap into action. She had to let them get close, had to be sure.

The tent flap shifted slightly. A shadowy figure stepped inside, their silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Evelyn's heart pounded as she prepared for the moment of truth.

The intruder moved swiftly, reaching for something at their side. But before they could act, Evelyn surged forward, slamming the figure to the ground and pressing her blade against their throat.

A gasp. Wide, startled eyes met hers in the darkness.

And then, to her shock, a familiar voice whispered, "Wait—it's me."