The courtyard behind the science wing had long stopped pretending it belonged to anyone.
Dead ivy clung to the lattice like old regrets. Cracked bricks disappeared into patches of moss. The air felt still—like even the wind had forgotten how to breathe here. At the center stood Chancellor Edwin Vale's statue. Bronze arm raised, book aloft, mouth open mid-speech. A pose meant to inspire.
It used to scare me.
Now it just looked like a man caught mid-lie. A ghost of a promise, whispering from stone.
I stepped over what used to be a bench and crouched at the statue's base.
The box was gone. I'd already taken it.
But I still stood there, staring at the empty space. Velvet-wrapped. Wax-sealed. Not buried, just… waiting. Like it had always known I'd come. Like it had picked me.
I remembered how the seal cracked. Gold wax, stamped with a crown torn down the middle. A symbol of broken fealty. Of something holy brought low.
Inside: six items. A board folded like a battlefield. And a card with no name, just stark, bold script:
"You know what you lost. This is your chance to reclaim it.
Gather five more, and begin.
— G.M."
I hadn't shown anyone. Not right away. I studied each piece. Held them. Waited. Each one pulsed back at me like a heartbeat – a strange, magnetic pull.
A crown. A flame. A mask. A clock. A mirror. A blade.
All waiting. All here now, in my satchel.
Tonight, I'd open it in front of the others.
Not because I wanted them involved, but because this wasn't just about the board anymore. It was about control. And I needed witnesses to take it back.
The wind stirred the ivy behind me as I turned. Gravel crunched beneath my boots. Chancellor Vale didn't look noble anymore—just weathered. Like the years had finally caught up with him, leaving only dust and forgotten ambition.
His plaque was still there.
VALE DOMINION GROUP — ENDOWED 1913
Moss-covered. Birdshit-stained. Forgotten, but too monumental to remove.
When I was younger, I used to trace the letters with my fingers, hoping that would make me part of the name. It didn't. Legacy didn't care about reverence.
It rewarded whoever moved first. Or, more accurately, whoever dared to move first.
My hand brushed the satchel.
Tonight wasn't about heritage. It was about reclaiming what was lost. Not just for me, but for the name I carried.
Let them think this was a curiosity. A prank. A trust exercise. Let them look at me with suspicion, or awe, or that quiet desperation that clings to people who want to believe in something.
The board didn't belong to me.
But it had chosen me to begin. And if I didn't begin, someone else would.
***
Vale House-Common Room
Technically, it wasn't a party.
But when Ashworth Vale sends out a ping to the Legacy Circle at 11:15 p.m.—"Vale House. Common Room. Bring questions."—you show up. Because a Vale summons usually meant something significant, for better or worse.
The fire was already going. Low, steady. The kind that flickers just enough to make you second-guess what you're seeing. Two chairs dragged inward. One couch claimed. Whiskey uncorked. The scent of old money and secrets hung in the air.
"Please tell me this isn't a cult," Mira said, kicking off her boots and flopping into a chair like she owned it. Her curls, the color of burnt embers, caught the firelight.
I crossed the room and smiled, a practiced mask. "Can't it be both?"
She smirked, a flash of defiance.
Theo showed up next. Hoodie. Silver rings. That look like he was already counting the steps to the exit. He didn't sit. "If you say the word 'legacy', I'm leaving," he muttered, arms crossed.
"I'm impressed," I said. "You actually read the invite."
Luna didn't knock. Fur-trimmed coat. Lip gloss like a blade. She leaned against the wall like she was charging rent. "Didn't realize we were starting a ghost club."
"Not a club," I said. "A curiosity. Or perhaps, a reckoning."
Seo-jin arrived without sound. All black. Bare wrists. No makeup. She moved like a whisper that didn't want to be heard and stood quietly in the corner, eyes already scanning the room with a preternatural calm.
Cal was already there. Leaning near the door, like he hadn't decided whether to come in or kick it down. His posture, stiff as winter ice. "If this turns into a Vale family séance, I'm out."
"You say that like you're sober," I countered, aiming for lightness.
Then I placed the box on the table. The velvet was almost black in the firelight.
The room stilled.
Velvet lid. Black latch. Six compartments.
One centerfold board, sharp and ancient. Its age seemed to pull at the light.
"It has a name," I said, unfolding it.
Gold lines sparked across the surface—veins under frost, intricate and deadly.
"Monarch of the Boards."
Mira scoffed. "Okay, no. That sounds ridiculously fake."
"It is," I said. "Or it was. Until now. Until it found me."
Theo stepped closer, his skepticism warring with clear fascination. "Where'd you find this?"
"Courtyard. Science wing. Under your statue."
"My statue," Cal muttered, a sneer in his voice. "Don't flatter yourself, Ashworth."
I didn't correct him. "It wasn't buried," I said, ignoring Cal. "Just… waiting. Like it belonged there. Like it was always meant to be found."
Luna raised an eyebrow, a hint of something sharp in her gaze. "And you brought it back. Why? Looking for a haunting? Or did someone promise you a promotion?"
"I thought it might be meaningful," I said. "To all of us."
Seo-jin, quiet as always, finally spoke. "Or dangerous. Very dangerous."
"Both," I admitted. "Which is why you're here." I met each of their eyes. "Witnesses."
I unlocked the board. The surface shivered. Rings etched in glass. Thirty-six hexagonal tiles. One gleaming center.
I didn't assign the pieces. I let them choose.
Mira moved first. She always does—brave or reckless, it makes no difference to her. She took the Spiral Flame. A red-orange glow flickered inside the glass, mirroring the fire.
"Pretty," she said, a small, nervous laugh escaping. "We betting drinks or souls?"
"You'll find out," I replied, my voice tighter than I intended.
Theo reached next. Grabbed the Masked Dice like it insulted him, turning it over in his fingers. It glinted once—just once—like something grinning in the dark. A flicker of silver, a hint of teeth.
Seo-jin's fingers trembled when she touched the Clock Petal. Frost bloomed across its petals, delicate and alien. She didn't flinch. Just watched the strange patterns form and melt.
Luna plucked the Gilt Mirror with two fingers, delicately. Its surface warped, reflecting everything but her—a distorted room, a faceless void where her image should be. She didn't react, only held it still.
Cal stared at the remaining pieces. Then, with a grim set to his jaw, he picked the Rusted Blade like it was a dare, a challenge. It pulsed once, a deep, unsettling red haze curling around his knuckles before fading.
I picked the last: the Crown of Dust.
It was warm. Like breath. Like memory. Like something that had been waiting for me specifically.
I placed it on the center tile.
Click.
Gold shimmered across the board, spreading outward from my piece, coating the etched lines, turning them into veins of light.
The pieces were watching. And I felt them. A thrumming beneath my palm, a connection.
Mira leaned in, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and unease. "Well? Let's see what happens."
She rolled the dice.
They clattered. Once. Twice. The sound too loud in the sudden silence.
Then—
Something broke.
Not loudly. Just… wrong. A fundamental tear in the fabric of the air itself.
Like porcelain shattering underwater.
A hidden slot opened beneath the board, slow and deliberate.
A card slid out. Black, etched with pulsating gold veins.
Mira grabbed it, her hand shaking. She read the bold, stark text aloud, her voice wavering:
[ "BURNED OFFERING.
One soul still smolders beneath the ash.
Accept your consequence."]
The room went stone still. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.
Then the Spiral Flame, clutched in Mira's hand, ignited.
Not a spark.
A surge. A blinding bloom of red-orange light.
Like grief catching fire.
Mira didn't scream.
She just—glitched.
One second whole. Next, jagged. Like a corrupted file, reality lost track of her shape. A blur of lines and static where her body should have been, before snapping back into place.
Then—
Buzz.
Her phone lit up on the rug where it had fallen, screen blazing.
[Voice Note — Leo Lane
Received: 12:01 A.M.]
My stomach dropped, a cold, hard knot.
"No," Cal said, his voice flat with disbelief. "That's—he's dead. Leo's dead."
Mira stared at the phone, eyes wide and fixed.
Then she played it.
Silence. Static. Then—
["You weren't there, Mira.
I waited.
You said you'd come.
You promised.
Why didn't you come?"]
Leo's voice.
But wrong. Slowed. Smoked. Dragged through grief and something darker, more ancient than pain.
Each word stretched, distorted, echoing through the silent room like a curse.
Mira dropped the phone. It clattered on the rug, the horrific voice note looping on repeat, filling the space.
Seo-jin muttered something in Korean. A prayer, maybe. Or an exorcism.
Cal swore, a guttural sound. He grabbed the iron poker from beside the fireplace and slammed it into the board with a desperate rage.
It didn't scratch. The metal shrieked against something impossibly hard.
I stepped forward, drawn by an unseen force. The center tile, where my Crown of Dust rested, glowed brighter.
And I heard it.
A whisper, too low to be imagined, too clear to be dismissed.
"This is how you begin again, son."
My father's voice. Dead five years.
This wasn't a joke. This wasn't a game.
It had already begun. And it wanted me to know it.
Luna backed away, eyes wide with genuine terror, all pretense gone. "I'm not doing this. Haunted Monopoly? No thanks."
She grabbed the door handle.
It didn't move. Not stuck. Just… refusing. As if it had a will of its own.
Cal pushed, shoulder, weight, brute force.
Nothing. The door held firm.
Then—click.
It opened. Too easily. A white hallway. Cold tile.
Normal.
Too normal.
Like bait on a hook.
Theo checked his phone. His face paled. "Still 12:01 A.M."
Mine too. The clocks ticked. But didn't change.
Time itself was a pawn now.
Then the board lit again. Red now. A pulsating, angry glow.
Six initials burned across its surface:
> A.V.
> M.L.
> T.W.
> Y.S.J.
> L.R.
> C.B.
>
Pawns reappeared beside them. Each a perfect miniature of the piece they'd chosen.
🧊 Crown of Dust — mine
🧬 Spiral Flame — Mira
🐍 Masked Dice — Theo
⏳ Clock Petal — Seo-jin
🎭 Gilt Mirror — Luna
⚔️ Rusted Blade — Cal
And then the sound. Mechanical. Precise. A countdown, projected in stark red light onto the common room ceiling.
⏳ NEXT TURN: 23:59:59
23:59:58
23:59:57
A small slot pulsed red beneath the countdown. Watching. Waiting. For the next sacrifice.
I touched the Crown of Dust. Its pulse echoed in my skin, stronger than my own heartbeat.
"The only way out…" I whispered, my voice raw, filled with a sudden, terrible clarity. "…is forward."
---
END OF CHAPTER 1