The Mist Asks Who They Trust

The dragon's breath did not vanish when the dragon did. Poison mist crept behind the party as they descended toward the lair, turning hesitation into a luxury no one had. The dungeon had found a way to herd them forward without needing walls or orders. Stay back and choke. Go forward and face whatever the dragon had retreated to protect. Inside the mist, the Aboleth shape returned in three directions. Figures appeared around Ash, Oskar, and Jeremiah, pressing the unresolved contender question into the air while the party was still battered from the stairway. It was not only a tactical pressure. It dragged private bonds into view. Who did they actually trust? Who did they consider close enough to name when the dungeon, the void, or their own fear asked for an answer? The answers were not clean. Jonah named Victor as his best friend and saw Ash as a protege. Maine treated friendship as mutual usefulness, which was honest in its own guarded way. Dhaz named Jonah because Jonah laughed at jokes. Ash respected Jonah, but trust remained a narrower door. The party kept moving toward the lair. The mist followed with questions.