The cackling laughter morphs to howling as a pack of coyotes announces their hunt. Maddy mutters passionately, “I hate the outdoors.”
“Same.” I squeeze her hand, and we drag each other back to the cabin.
But the laughter and howling follow us—and on this haunted mountain, trapped in the shadows, I can’t help but think it sounds like the screams of the dying.
Lente’s death cements that this place is far more dangerous than you all anticipated. There are secrets here. There are traps that could easily kill you.
And as night falls at this lonely castle, far from the world, you cannot help but wonder what is next. Instead of finding answers, you’ve only found more questions: If Councilwoman Yester consorted with rogue mages, it makes no sense for them to have killed her. If not them, then who? If it was someone from the council, why would they have sent you there?
Over the last few years, you’ve always trusted the council implicitly. You never had cause to doubt them. Now there’s a little voice in the back of your head that whispers you can’t trust anyone’s motivations. If Joanna Yester turned to the side of the lawless, anyone could have. Any one of you could have.
You’re stuck here, in a lonely castle, and you’re a prime target.
Ten
Carter
We’re back to playing the game, and the coins burn a hole in my purse like how the kitchen cabinet burned me. (And what was that? I don’t believe in ghosts. I can’t believe in ghosts. But something is weird about this cabin.) Break the rules. Lose the game. I keep thinking about what my character Corrin would do. He would carry the coins around for days, but ultimately hand them over to the magisterium. I would take them and happily spend them.
Because we jumped immediately into the investigation of Joanna’s death, I haven’t been able to turn them in yet. But if it’s ever necessary to use them, I don’t think I’d hesitate. Truth is, so far, I’m doing fine without the extra coins. I’m still standing, aren’t I? That’s more than can be said for some.
Seriously, I can’t believe I outlasted Liva. Out of everyone.
I can’t say I mind it.
Everyone is struggling. We’re still standing at the same door—the kitchen door turned into the door for Joanna’s atelier—and we haven’t found our way in yet. Moments like these, I miss Zac’s character Zilver. He would’ve charged ahead, consequences be damned. He would’ve laughed at our worries. We’re too scared for that.
Maybe I should use the coins to help us. It wouldn’t be the first time I helped myself to something I didn’t earn. My stomach clenches—not with guilt, really, because I don’t feel guilty about it. I may not have earned it, but I deserved it. My eyes dart to my friends around me. No, what I’m feeling is anxiety. Does one of them know?
It couldn’t have been Liva who put the coins in my purse. If she knew what I did—what I’m doing—she would’ve gone straight to her father. She tolerates me well enough here and at school, but has resented me ever since I started working for their company. Like I’m trying to steal her job away from her. Like I ever could. I wish it were that easy. I wish she’d have to learn what it felt like not to have everything handed to you. No, she would’ve delighted in getting me fired.
Which leads me to Maddy. She knows. But she would hardly…what? Threaten to expose me? She’s too dependent on me right now. If I didn’t break the rules, we both would’ve lost ages ago. And I’d like to think I mean more to her. We play hard and we fight hard, but she’s the only one I more or less trust.
I glance at Ever and Finn.
Ever catches my eye, and I clear my throat, heat rising to my cheeks. “We need to find a way into the door,” I say, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. “If we can’t dispel the wards, maybe we can find another way to break them. Destroy the markings, something like that.”
“Do you want to give that a try? What would you like to do?” Ever asks.
I shrug. “Have we ever tried simply…brushing the glyphs away?”
“We haven’t, because devouring wards can kill,” Finn says. He seems to stare straight through me.
“I mean, sure. But.”
“Do you want to try?” Maddy asks. She came back to the game with a distant look in her eyes, and seeing her like that is the only time I ever feel guilty.
I’m helping her—aren’t I?
“I do,” I say.
Finn smiles thinly. He certainly seems a lot more relaxed now that Liva is out of the room. Did I ever do anything to Finn to make him hate me like that? If so, I don’t remember it, and I can’t believe that’s what’s happening. I don’t want to believe that’s what’s happening.
We’re friends.
And Ever…Ever was here, all of yesterday. I know they know how to keep secrets.
“Are you certain?” they ask me, a calculating look in their eyes. It’s the look we’ve all come to know as the GM Look. Are they this calculating outside of the game too? Did I just never realize? “How do you plan to do this?”
I breathe in deeply and try to keep my focus on the murder mystery. There’s a question underlying their question. Am I ready for this decision to backfire spectacularly?
Normally, I would be. It’s a game, after all, and there’s something to be said for messing up with abandon. But we’re one down already. And this weekend…
Here’s the thing. I care about Corrin. He travels the world. He’s dedicated his life to adventure and truth. He lives to right wrongs and bring to light injustices. And he may be nothing more than a character I made up, but I made him up from all the dreams I have. Corrin sees the world in shades of possibility.
Life in Gonfalon is simpler, more easygoing than the real world. Less…for lack of a better term, political? Corrin doesn’t have to watch what he says, and not everyone seems so sensitive.
Of course I’m not certain.
I lick my lips and try to think, my mind racing through everything else I’ve seen in the game. “I run back up the stairs toward where we saw Joanna’s unfinished shield. Since it seemed to be warded too, maybe I can use it to break one ward with the other.”
I’m not entirely sure that’s how shields are supposed to be used, but it’s the only thing I can think of.
And Ever smiles slightly. Maybe I’m onto something.
“Do you tell any of the others what you’re about to do?” they ask. “Or do you go by yourself?”
I may be running head-on into a trap, but I know what Corrin would do. The life of a curious fool longing for truth is a dangerous one. “I would bolt. I wouldn’t tell any of the others.”
Finn hisses. Maddy groans. And Ever’s smile widens. “Good to know. If Carter and I could have the room, please. Just for a moment.”
Oh cool. That bodes well. I sigh.
Finn gets to his feet, passing by me on the way out, and places a hand on my shoulder. “One down, huh? You jinxed it.” It’s meant in jest, I’m sure, but there’s a shadow in his eyes.
Maddy goes next. “It was nice knowing you.”
There’s a twitch in my heart at those words.
They head in separate directions—Finn out onto the porch, and Maddy up to her room. Ever keeps their eyes on the notes in front of them, waiting until the others are well out of earshot before they say anything else. In that silence, the cabin closes in on me.
I hate being here. It’s not just the coins burning a hole in my pocket, or the note that accompanied them, or the shadows that crawl in from the windows.
It’s Liva. She made sure the cabin was well-stocked and supplied with delicious food. Even the assorted drinks on one of the tables—La Croix and Perrier, for crying out loud—seem like too much. And I don’t know. It’s clear she’s rich. She doesn’t have to flaunt it, right?
We all know.
And we all try to be like her, in one way or
another. Money is value, my parents always remind me.
There’s a twisted kind of satisfaction in Liva being the first to lose her character.
Gods, I wish Ever didn’t have such a good poker face; I have no idea if what’s happening is good or bad. But if I don’t make it out of this scene, I can rest easy in the knowledge that I survived Liva.
It’s petty. I know.
Once Maddy’s footsteps have died down and the only sound in the cabin is our breathing and the wind creaking through the grove outside, Ever looks up. A hint of a smile on their face. They settle in right in front of me.
“You run up alone. Perhaps it’s the memory of Lente’s death that spurs you on, perhaps it’s knowing you have a solution, right at your fingertips. But you move fearlessly through this tower with all its secrets and all its ghosts—”
A loud crash cuts them off, from somewhere close by.
My heart rate jumps.
Ever falters, then raises their voice. “Liva? Maddy? Finn? Everyone okay?”
The words are met with silence, and nothing more.
We listen—for either a call for help or the acknowledgment that everything’s fine, nothing to worry about, but neither of those come.
“I’m sure if something were wrong, someone would’ve said something,” I mutter.
“Or perhaps someone needs help and they can’t ask for it.” Ever stretches and comes to stand in front of me, their head still slightly cocked. I’ve seen them around their sister, and they look exactly like that now: equal parts protective, worried, and paranoid.
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I wish I could be sure too. Excuse me.” Ever hesitates between the door and the staircase, and for a brief, irrational heartbeat, all I want to do is stop them, make them stay here with me. Play this game with me. This is my time, and I’m tired of it being interrupted.
“Ever…”
They don’t respond, and a wave of anger washes over me. I clench my fists and try to swallow the annoyance, but it burns hot inside me. The moment Ever walks away from me, I get up and walk away too. I can’t force the game to continue, but I can make my way to the kitchen to pretend I’m still in control. Even if all I do is stare at the cabinets and ignore the silence. I ignore the footsteps upstairs. I ignore the emptiness opening inside me.
It’s always the same thing. Other things and other people are always more important than me.
And if people see me, it’s never for who I am, but only for what I can do for them.
I reach for the coin purse and test its weight once more. Maybe neither the coins nor the note were a warning; maybe they were a hint. After all, following or breaking the rules aren’t the only options. I can find my own way. I can simply stop playing.
Bend the rules. Win the game.
Truth is, to get what I deserve, I simply have to take it myself.
Some sounds can break through everything:
Silence.
Tension.
Night.
Imagination.
The idea that a pile of blankets can be a body. That cards can be real artifacts and puzzle boxes truly deadly. That dice are weapons.
Some sounds remind you this isn’t a castle.
This is a cabin.
And a loud scream tears through the darkness, raw and filled with terror.
Eleven
Finn
A bat drops from the rafters and nearly tumbles onto my face before flying off into the night. I flip it off when it does. With no one to see me, and no one to judge, I can breathe. I could break. I want to be able to trust my friends. I want to go back to feeling safe amidst all of them, and I’m trying. But right now, I don’t know if I can.
It used to be so effortless. We could simply let ourselves fall into another world and thrive.
If this game ends after this weekend, and I never see any of the others again, I wouldn’t care.
Except about Ever.
When my brain calms, I get stuck on the memory of the touch of their hands, soft and careful, when they broke character for me.
Let me know if there’s anything you need. Physically. Emotionally. I want you to feel safe here.
It hurts that they know me so well, that they care so deeply. It hurts in the best of ways.
I consider all the answers I didn’t give. I need you, physically. I need you, emotionally. I feel safe with you.
Trouble is, that’s exactly what scares me. I don’t feel safe with many people. I have literally never asked anyone out on a date before. I don’t have a clue how to go about it. I never did crushes before. I didn’t feel comfortable enough in my own skin. I didn’t know how much of a hang-up gender would be for other people—or disability, for that matter. If you’re constantly told people like you don’t have meaningful relationships, it’s hard to believe you’re allowed to try.
So a big part of me wants to stick to Damien’s advice: Try. Find your family and cling to it. Life is too short and too hard not to embrace every aspect of it. It’s part of why I ran, and it’s most of why I came back. Because underneath all my fear, I want to make this the best game yet. Follow the clues and the signs. Play my heart out. And then hand it to Ever in a puzzle box.
Something crashes though the undergrowth, not far away from where I’m sitting, and my pulse pounds. It was just an animal, I think. I hope. Are there wolves or coyotes here? I pull my knees up to my chest and cradle my crutches closer, but it’s dark enough now that I can’t see beyond the small circle of light surrounding the porch.
“Hello?” I call out hesitantly.
Silence. Darkness.
I’m letting the ghost stories get to me. It was probably a squirrel or—
The door slams open. Ever. The bright light from inside filters out around them, making their shadow almost bleed into the darkness. It’s too shaded for me to see their face; I can only hear their rapid breathing. “Finn, you have to come back in.”
I scramble to my feet, my heart slamming in my chest.
“Something’s wrong.”
Carter appears behind them, holding one of the decorative fireplace pokers, his eyes wild, his cheeks flushed. When we all push into the cabin, Maddy is standing on the stairs, her face deathly white and her hands trembling.
She keeps glancing back over her shoulder, and her voice shakes as much as her body does. “Did you hear that? There was something—someone upstairs.”
Carter dashes up to meet her. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
I’m still trying to catch up. “What happened?”
At the same time, next to me, Ever says, “We heard screaming. Are we all here? Where is Liva?”
Oh.
Everything snaps into focus. One of us is missing. “We have to find to Liva.”
“We have to stay close together,” Ever cautions.
They place a hand on mine. Carter reaches for Maddy. And the cabin feels cold and lonely. The only thing we can do is walk up the winding staircase and hope she’s waiting for us at the top.
“Liva?”
Nothing.
Again, “Liva!”
Carter still holds hands with Maddy as we edge toward the bedrooms, his free hand continuing to grasp the poker.
Ever leans into me, a little. “Did you see her leave the cabin by any chance?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t. I heard something moving in the brush, but it sounded like an animal.” To be fair, I didn’t hear anyone scream either. “I was a bit lost in thought.”
They squeeze my hand.
Carter shouts again. “Liva!”
The door to Liva’s room stands open. Something moves inside. We all pause, catch our breath, try not to meet one another’s eyes, steel ourselves.
“Liva?” With one of my crutches, I push the do
or open farther. The room is empty, and the window is wide open. What I thought was movement was just the swaying of the curtains back and forth in the breeze. The night is dark and endless outside. “She isn’t here.”
“She can’t have just…disappeared, right?” Maddy’s voice is fragile.
Apparently that’s exactly what happened.
The room itself looks well lived in. Liva carefully unpacked her bags, and it’s clear she’s stayed here many times before. Posters of WyvernCon and sewing patterns decorate the walls.
The bedspread is a quilt she made herself, constructed from pieces of all the costumes she made in our first two years of WyvernCon. There’s part of the blood hunter outfit she created, and the very first magister cloak she tried. There’s a square from the Spoiler outfit she made for me, a square from a Time Lord coat, and a slice of the space scavenger uniform Ever wore.
I trace my fingers over the quilt, an amalgamation of so much fandom. It’s smooth to the touch.
I look around me, at the carefully folded robes, the pair of scissors on the bedside table, the coverless book with yellowed pages, lying on one of the pillows. And Ever, standing next to me. The quiet panic in their eyes. The way they seem to be shrinking in on themself.
A rush of anger courses through me. “This isn’t funny.” It’s always Liva, hurting us. Every time. I repeat it louder, walking back out into the hallway. “Liva? C’mon, this isn’t funny!”
I shouldn’t worry about her, and yet I do. I hate her. She was one of my best friends once. I told her about my crush on Ever long before I told Damien. I trusted her. I hate her.
“Liva, please.” Ever’s voice trembles.
Our words are met with nothing but silence. The cabin is quiet. All we can hear is the wind through the trees outside, and the curtain, pushing in and out. A door rattles on its hinges, and Maddy starts to cry quietly.
“Maybe she needed some time for herself.” Carter moves toward the window. “Or maybe the stories are true.”
Then, metallic chimes.
A fragment of a melody, so soft it might as well be a memory.
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