Chapter 3
The room pulsed with silence.
Five players sat around the obsidian table, their reflections warped across its glossy surface. A single light swung overhead, its beam too narrow, too harsh, casting their shadows into elongated distortions on the stone walls.
Ethan's fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the armrest of his chair. Across from him, Maya was still staring at the card that had been placed in front of her. None of them dared touch it yet, though the temptation gnawed at all of them. The Creator's words still hung in the air:
"Every move has a consequence. Every choice, a price."
The Creator himself stood near the head of the table, his gloved hands folded neatly. His face remained in shadow beneath the brim of his wide hat, but his mouth was just visible — the faintest trace of a smile lurking at the corner of his lips.
Dylan broke first. "This is—this is insane. You can't expect us to just… play along. People don't die in card games."
Sophia flinched at the word die, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her chair.
"You saw what happened to the butler," Liam said, voice low. "The door locked behind him. He didn't come back." His eyes flicked to the Creator. "I don't think we're leaving until this is done."
Maya finally touched her card. The moment her fingers grazed its surface, the table hummed, a vibration that seemed to climb up through the floor and into their bones. The lights flickered, and the cards revealed themselves, one by one, in a bloom of pale light.
Five cards.
Ethan: The King of Spades
Maya: The Queen of Hearts
Dylan: The Jack of Clubs
Sophia: The Ten of Diamonds
Liam: The Ace of Spades
The Creator's smile widened.
"A hierarchy," he said softly, almost to himself. "Spades above all. Clubs to serve, diamonds to deceive, hearts to betray." His voice sharpened. "The rules are simple. Each round, you will be given a task. Succeed, and you live another hour. Fail…" He let the silence draw out, like a noose tightening around their throats. "…and the table will collect its due."
Ethan looked down at his card. The King of Spades. Something cold stirred in his chest — a weight, heavy and foreboding. He had no idea what it meant yet, but he could feel its importance.
"Round One," the Creator said, stepping back. His gloved hand snapped, and the lights dimmed to near blackness. A single candle appeared at the center of the table, its flame sharp and hungry.
On the wall behind him, a phrase carved itself in glowing letters:
"To keep the flame alive, you must name your darkest secret. One falsehood, and the flame dies."
The candle's flicker reflected in their wide eyes.
Dylan swore under his breath. "This is a joke, right? Secrets? That's it?"
But the flame sputtered — as though the table itself disapproved of his hesitation.
"No…" Ethan murmured. "It's not a joke. If the flame goes out, something happens."
They all looked at the Creator, but he said nothing. He only leaned against the wall, patient, waiting.
The silence was unbearable.
Finally, Maya took a trembling breath. Her voice cracked as she spoke: "I… left my sister at the hospital when she begged me not to. I knew she didn't have long, and I—I walked away anyway."
The candle flared, burning steadier, brighter.
Ethan's pulse thudded in his ears. This was real. Horribly, terrifyingly real.
Sophia sobbed quietly. Liam's jaw clenched. Dylan shook his head, muttering curses.
And then the Creator whispered: "Four more confessions… or the flame dies."