Chapter 2: Rules
The creature—no, the thing with the rabbit skull—grinned wide enough to show its yellowed teeth.
It held something in its clawed hand. "For the first game, this is your card."
He tossed it at me, and I caught it instinctively. The card was cold. Too cold. And it stank. Not like dirt or mold—but like freshly dug graves. A mix of rotting wood, metal, and something worse—something human.
I flinched. "What... is this?"
"We still have rules, Dirga," the creature said casually, as if this were just another board game. "That card is your gateway. It tells you everything you need to know."
I wanted to throw it back. Burn it. Shred it. "I don’t want this. I don’t want to play anymore."
The desperation spilled out of me like a broken dam. "I never asked for this! I’m not ambitious—I just want a quiet life. I just want her to live!"
I gritted my teeth. My hands shook. My knees wanted to collapse. "I don’t care about games or wishes or rules! I’m not part of this!"
The creature’s grin didn’t fade. It widened.
"You can’t quit, Dirga. That’s not how this works." Its tone dropped a few degrees, playfulness thinning into something colder. "Since you rolled the dice, there’s only one way out."
Its red eyes burned into mine.