Whispered Paranoia

The setting is a crumbling, centuries-old temple, its ancient stones weathered by time but still holding the weight of history. The air feels thick with a sense of foreboding, heavy with the scent of incense and the faint echoes of rituals long abandoned. Fading carvings of ancestors—guardians, spirits, and gods—are etched into the walls, their features obscured by the passage of time, leaving behind only whispers of the past.

Candles flicker in the dim space, casting long shadows that dance across the stone floor. The room, once a sanctuary, now feels like a place of tension, a place where trust and unity are being tested to their limits. The once sacred ground now serves as the epicenter of a growing paranoia.