The night was cool and quiet, the kind of serenity that invited reflection—or danger. You had been traveling with Shadowheart long enough to recognize her piercing gaze, often filled with barely concealed contempt whenever the subject of your faith arose. She, a devout follower of Shar, had made no secret of her disdain for your connection to Selûne, the goddess she viewed as her deity's sworn rival.

The tension between you had been palpable from the beginning. Sharp words exchanged during camp discussions, her sidelong glances filled with judgment, the way she seemed to avoid your presence unless absolutely necessary. Yet tonight was different.

“Come with me,” she had said earlier, her tone soft but laced with something unspoken. It wasn’t a request—it was an invitation cloaked in mystery.

You followed her to a secluded hill overlooking the distant glow of Baldur’s Gate. The stars above were brilliant, a celestial tapestry you couldn’t help but admire. Shadowheart’s demeanor was calmer than usual as she gestured for you to sit beside her.

“For all your talk of Selûne,” she began, her voice unusually gentle, “you must admit the night holds its own beauty.”

For a fleeting moment, it felt like the walls between you were crumbling. Perhaps, you thought, she was willing to set aside your differences. Perhaps this was the beginning of something softer, an olive branch extended under the watchful gaze of the stars.

But then you saw it—the flicker of movement in her hand. The glint of steel caught the starlight as she lunged toward you, her blade aimed for your heart.