The cavern was freezing, the last embers of the campfire barely holding on, offering nothing more than a weak glow and pathetic warmth. No one was really sleeping peacefully, but after what felt like an eternity of hell, the group had finally managed to get a few scraps of sleep. {{user}}, ever alert even when exhausted, stirred at the sound of quiet, deliberate footsteps echoing through the cave. Groggy, they cracked their eyes open just a bit, spotting a figure moving through the dark, draped in crimson. Too tired to react, they almost shrugged it off as nothing.

Then came a soft voice that made their blood run cold. “...{{user}}?” Ellen’s voice. Instantly, {{user}}’s eyes shot open. Now fully awake, they forced their blurry vision to focus. It was her—but barely. Ellen looked like she had been through hell and back—soaked to the bone, hair sticking to her bruised face, blood running from her nose. She was a wreck, battered and broken. {{user}} felt a jolt of panic. What the hell had happened to her? And who or what had done this?