I still wish this could last forever.
Ever glances in my direction, a smile and a challenge in their eyes.
“Yester Tower is more than a simple tower. It’s a winding castle full of rooms,” they say, and it’s almost as if they’re talking just to me. “Joanna’s personal quarters are still locked, and you have to find your way into her atelier as well. You may examine her body if you so wish, though no one knows what the arcane signs around her are. What do you do?”
I suck in a breath. Steady my voice. “We investigate.”
With that, we’re off. The living room is roughly divided in two sections. The couch and chairs in front of the electric fireplace are cordoned off with a green rope to form an out-of-game area. A safe space where we can convene and—quite literally—step out of character.
The other half of the room, where the dining table stands, is littered with clues. Ever’s used red chalk to draw an arcane circle around the heavy oak dining table, while blankets give the appearance of a body on top. A quick glance tells me there are letters, clues, and puzzles hidden everywhere.
The area around the staircase and around the door to the porch are clean. In case we need an easy escape route.
Everyone snaps into action. Carter riffles through the papers, while Maddy examines the door to Councilwoman Yester’s personal quarters, as currently played by the kitchen door (“Everything is warded!”). Liva crouches next to the arcane circle. We’re a ragtag group of onetime friends and a ragtag group of adventurers, and we’ve all thrown ourselves headfirst into pretending this cabin is a castle. We pull on our characters like our costumes. In the world we built between us, everything is easier.
Even after everything, I’m not sure I’ll find belonging like this anywhere else.
Ever observes from a distance and smiles. Underneath the hood of their supple green cloak, their thick, black hair is bound in an unruly ponytail, and there’s a smudge of ink on their cheek. Shadows dance all across their face. They might as well be a member of the Unseelie Court, a storyteller to lure in unsuspecting travelers.
I take in every detail. The quirk of their mouth. The raised eyebrow. The way their right hand grasps the fabric of their cloak, the smallest hint that they’re nervous. Their forest-green eyes settle on me.
“Finn?” Ever’s voice is quiet. They normally only call us our characters’ names when in-game. “Do you have a moment?”
I don’t trust myself to answer, so I nod. I grab my crutches and make my way over to the other side of the room, near the door to the porch, somewhat out of earshot of the others. My ankle still hates me for that stunt on the boulders.
Ever bites their lip. Something of the game master persona slips, and there’s just my best friend left. The person who, even if I’m not sure I can trust anyone else here, is the constellation in the night sky that keeps me steady. “I meant to say this before the game, but…let me know if there’s anything you need this weekend, okay? I know the last couple of months have been hard, so just…let me know if there’s anything. Physically. Emotionally. Anything.”
Warmth crawls up my cheeks. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah. I…yeah. Cool. Thanks.”
They take a step closer, and I take a step back, out of habit more than conviction. Ever’s face shadows, but they take a step back too, back into GM mode. “I want you to feel safe here.”
My breath catches. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
This is one of the reasons why I didn’t want to come back to the game; we’re one step outside of the real world. The normal rules don’t apply. My walls don’t hold up. Ever deconstructs me. And I’m helplessly, overwhelmingly, absolutely terrifyingly in love.
Again and again and again.
I do the only thing I can. I run headlong into danger. I pull a battered notebook out of my pocket, grab a pencil from the coffee table, and purposefully make my way over to Liva. Because there’s only one way to play this and that’s to play hard. “Do you see any sort of pattern?”
She tenses. Freezes.
It’s all I need. I let my annoyance push away my vulnerability. Being angry is so much easier than getting hurt again.
“Not yet.” Liva clears her throat and keeps her eyes on the makeshift corpse. “It’s clearly an arcane circle, and some of these glyphs are traditional wardings and markings. There’s blood magic here, and protection magic too.” Broken circles and rune-like slash marks. I recognize them from the countless other murders we’ve solved.
But there are also glyphs that look like music notes, unlike anything I’ve seen before. And there’s a small wooden carving of a raven. “How about those?”
“I don’t know. Nothing I immediately recognize.” She glances at Ever, who’s been walking around the room. Not following me. Definitely not following me. “Right?”
Ever comes to stand beside us, resplendent in their green cloak, wearing a scheming smile and fully in game-master mode.
“Right. You don’t know much about the nature of these glyphs,” they say. “You’ve studied the arcane, of course. But this is different. Older, perhaps. Or more recent. Clearly magical in nature, but it’s outside of your realm of knowledge. What it is exactly is up to you to discover.”
Liva’s eyes flick from Ever to me and back again. “Rogue magic?”
Also known as devouring magic, the type of magic that would destroy all others. “It seems likely. But if you want to know more, you have to spend skill points.”
Liva frowns. “Not yet. Unless Finn wants to…?”
“Nah, not yet.” I keep my eyes on my paper. With my crutches leaning against my hip, I make a rough sketch of Joanna’s body and her position with regards to the arcane markings, and wait for the heat of Ever’s body to disappear. “What about the raven?”
“It’s new. You’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Is there anything else of note we see?” I ask.
“Councilwoman Yester’s body has lain here untouched since it was found. As you go through her clothes, you notice the body seems to be unharmed. There are no obvious wounds, whether by sword or rifle, and you see no scratch marks or any other traces of wounds,” Ever says.
In other words, unless she was scared to death, this could only have been poison or magic, and my money is on the latter.
“What’s her facial expression? Can we still see it?” Liva crouches near the “head” and gently pushes at the cloth with one perfectly manicured nail. It’s almost as if she brushes a strand of hair out of a face. “Was she shocked, surprised, at ease?”