The alley grew narrower with every step.
The light dimmed behind her, swallowed by the gray clouds.
It felt like the world was holding its breath.
At the end of the alley, she found it—
A wooden door. Old. Heavy.
She knocked three times.
No answer.
She waited.
Nothing.
With a frustrated sigh, she reached out and tried the handle.
It was locked.
She turned to leave—
And that's when she saw it.
A small envelope, lying at the doorstep.
It hadn't been there before.
She bent down and picked it up.
It was elegant… yet old.
Her name was written on it, in perfect cursive ink.
Eleanor Crawford.
Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it.
Inside was a folded note.
She unfolded it carefully and read:
---
> David Kingston — Lost his wife and son in a fire.
Began seeing invisible creatures.
> Margaret Stewart — Spoke with someone no one else could see.
Her younger sister died mysteriously.
> Samuel Hayes — Survived a tragic accident.
Heard strange voices. Lost everyone he loved.
> They all painted the same darkness.
They all died the same way.
It wasn't suicide.
It was a curse.
A curse… tied to one name.
---
Eleanor's hands shook.
The paper felt alive.
Heavy with something that didn't belong to this world.
She turned it over.
There was one last line—written faintly, almost as if whispered onto the page:
> "You are the next piece in the game."