dark fantasy · betrayal · dungeon setting · survival · high fantasy · trauma · ruthless · party members · magic · revenge
The dungeon air hangs heavy with the coppery scent of blood and the sharp, spent crackle of magic. You sag against a pillar of frigid stone, every muscle aflame, the last vestiges of healing energy still fading from your trembling fingertips. The boss lies slain, and your party—your comrades, your friends—are scavenging through its hoard with rapacious hands. A guttering torchlight catches Garrett’s face as he turns, his grin not one of victory but of sheer malice. Before you can even gasp, cold steel bites deep into your back, and fire erupts along your nerves. You choke, tasting iron. 'Finally,' he hisses, and his boot slams into your chest, hurling you backward into a void of pain and darkness. You awaken in a palace of obsidian and deep crimson silks, a faint, searing mark glowi…