-
By: Eddielyn Favor Roberts
By: Eddielyn Favor Roberts
True story from a dream
CHAPTER 0
– How Everything Began
My best friend, Anna, and I were getting ready for prom night. Anna had short blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, while I had long brown hair with one green eye and one blue, thanks to my heterochromia. We were at the mall, searching for the perfect dresses. I picked out a stunning dark blue one with a daring slit, while Anna chose a lovely purple dress, its ribbon tied perfectly at the back. We both gazed at ourselves in the mirror, amazed at how beautiful we looked, feeling more excited for the night ahead.
We bought the dresses using the money our parents gave us for prom. After picking out clothes, we headed to the accessories section—necklaces, bracelets, earrings. Anna grabbed way more stuff than I did. She was on a mission to impress her crushes: Gavin and Noah. I helped her pick out the perfect pieces.
Anna had been crushing on Gavin for about seven years… and on Noah for ten. Gavin and I were best friends—and still are.
Prom night finally came, and we were ready to show off our dresses. I was always the quiet one, while Anna was wild, loud, and full of life. She was incredibly popular—almost every guy wanted to date her. But she only had eyes for Gavin and Noah. She kind of knew Gavin didn't like her back… but she still held onto hope.
The night was perfect. We danced, laughed, and made memories.
By the end of the night, we were exhausted and stepped outside for some fresh air. A bunch of us lay down in the grass, staring up at the stars. I gave Anna the signal—it was time for her to tell Gavin how she felt.
But before she could say a word… I smelled something strange. Something sharp and metallic. Then everything started spinning.
I collapsed.
As I lay on the ground, fading in and out of consciousness, I saw Gavin lying nearby. He was out too. But Anna—she was still standing.
And someone was approaching her.
A person I had never seen before. Dressed in all black. Shadowy. Mysterious.
The last thing I heard before everything went black was a voice, soft and urgent:
"I'm so sorry. If you ever come into my world… don't get caught by him."
Then everything went dark.
CHAPTER 1
When I woke up, I was lying on the cold floor in a torn white dress. Fear rushed through me—I didn't remember ever putting on these clothes. I backed into a corner as I saw three other people nearby. My chest tightened. Something felt wrong like my body was warning me to run.
That feeling grew stronger, closer. My instincts screamed at me, and without thinking, I got up and ran. It was like something inside of me knew where to go—leading me to a damp alley. The second I got there, I felt safe.
Then I saw someone else—another person running, being chased by something dark, something evil. As they ran past, I reached out, grabbed their hand, and yanked them into the alley. They looked terrified at first, but then realized I wasn't the threat.
The darkness I had felt before was coming again, stronger this time. I panicked—and suddenly, my fingers moved on their own. A car nearby screeched to life and blocked the entrance to the alley. I stared at it, frozen. Did I just… control that?
The person next to me looked just as shocked.
"What's going on?" I asked. "Why am I here?"
He looked at me seriously.
"Everyone here has special powers. If you have more than one… you're a god. Mr. Blackness is looking for that god. If he catches all of us…"
"There are more of us?" I interrupted.
"Yeah," he said, lowering his head. "If he catches all of us, we'll all…"
"We'll all what?" I demanded.
"Died."
A chill ran through me. Why me? Why was I here? What did I do?
Before I could ask anything else, he tapped my shoulder gently and said, "I'm Dylan."
The uneasy feeling returned—something bad was coming. I was about to warn him, but he spoke first.
"I sense it too," he said. "Something's not right."
I stared at him, surprised.
"How did you know?"
"Everyone has different powers," he explained. "Mine is super jump. But remember—if you have more than one power… you're a god."
"What's your power?" he asked me.
"I… I don't know."
"Have you ever used it?"
Before I could answer, a green creature leaped out of nowhere, straight at me. I froze, staring at what I thought would be my death.
But then—it dropped dead in front of me, melting into green goo.
I was stunned. So was Dylan. He just looked at me, completely speechless, for what felt like over a minute.
"I don't know what just happened," I whispered.
"I think you did that," he said.
"Who?! Me?!"
He nodded, still in shock.
Before I could say anything else, my body moved on its own again—I was running without choosing to. Dylan followed.
When I finally stopped, we were in a busy city, full of people and noise. I ducked behind a bridge so no one would see us. Dylan followed, still watching me like I was something strange.
Then I saw her. A girl, dressed like us—torn clothes, scared eyes. But something felt off about her.
She ran toward us. Dylan seemed to recognize her.
"I'm Emily," she said. "My power is hearing—near or far."
"And you?" she asked Dylan.
"I'm Dylan. Super jump."
Then she turned to me.
"And you? What's your name and power?"
"I don't know," I replied.
I didn't trust her. Something about her energy made me want to run again.
"What's your name?" she repeated.
"I don't know," I said again, staring at her coldly.
She frowned but didn't push further. I didn't care what she thought—I just wanted to survive.
We stayed there for hours. The sky darkened, and both Dylan and Emily fell asleep. I was about to close my eyes too—until I felt it. That dark energy was stronger than ever.
My instincts screamed again.
Someone bad was close. I got up quietly and began to sneak away. I didn't trust anyone—not even Dylan.
As I turned to leave, I saw it.
A tall man dressed in all black walked up to Dylan. He leaned over and slipped something into his mouth. Dylan didn't wake up.
Then—Emily transformed. Her body shimmered, and she became a tall woman with long black hair, wearing red and a black hat. My heart nearly stopped.
Panic flooded me. I could barely breathe. I took three deep breaths and tried to calm down.
Then I thought of my mom—and the song she used to sing to me:
"My little girl Crystals, I will always be by your side.
Until the day that I somehow die.
But I will always remember the pride,
Because I know that our world is full of lies.
But I hope you'll be a good girl,
Before the day I die.
And I will always love you,
And that is true not a lie."
I felt a little better. But I had to get out—fast.
The man in black turned and looked right at me. His lips moved. I couldn't hear the words, but I knew what he said.
"You are the one I'm looking for… and I will find you."
Terror shot through me. I ran as fast as I could. I ended up in a crowded place filled with people and flaming barrels. Then I saw a baby on the ground, alone.
My body reacted again—faster than I could think. In a blink, I had the baby in my arms.
I stared at it. Deep blue eyes… like diamonds. Like the ocean.
And for the first time… I wasn't sure if I was saving the world—or if it had something to save me. The baby, who had been crying just a moment ago, now looked up at me with a smile. Somehow, I felt safe—like we were meant to find each other. The baby pointed at something and then frowned. I followed its gaze—and saw a little boy standing in the distance, his expression twisted and unsettling. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my stomach, like I was being stabbed by a thousand needles.
I quickly looked away, and the pain faded.
The baby then pointed at a small pocket on my torn white dress—one I hadn't even noticed before. I reached into it and found a card… and a tiny phone.
The moment I touched the phone, the screen lit up and a robotic voice said:
"WELCOME TO THE GAME OF HEARTS."
I looked back at the boy—but he was gone, like he had never been there at all.
I glanced around and noticed people. Actual people. Relief flooded me, and I ran up to a man nearby.
"Sir, do you know where we are? And… why are people following me?" I asked, my voice trembling. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
The man looked around cautiously, then met my eyes. He looked terrified.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't tell you anything."
"Why not?" I cried, desperate for answers.
"If I say anything… he might come."
"Who?" I asked, fresh tears welling up.
He leaned in, eyes wide with fear. "Mr. Blackness."
I froze.
That's the same name Dylan used.
"D-Does he have a real name?" I hesitated.
The man's face went pale. "DON'T EVER ASK THAT!" he shouted.
Everyone nearby turned to stare. Whispers spread like wildfire. My stomach twisted again—just like before. A stabbing pain, sharp and sudden.
Then I felt a hand touch mine.
It was the little boy.
A thousand questions exploded in my mind. What was going on?
The baby in my arms started crying, and without warning, my legs moved on their own again. I could feel a dark energy closing in. I didn't think—I just grabbed the boy and carried him on my back, running like my life depended on it.
I didn't even know why I grabbed him. It just felt… right.
As I ran, the pain in my stomach slowly faded. Then, just as suddenly, I stopped. My body froze—I couldn't move.
The boy looked at me and smiled. Then he said something in a language I'd never heard before—and vanished, right before my eyes.
The baby in my arms smiled and waved at the spot where the boy had disappeared. My body remained frozen. Only my eyes could move.
The baby turned to me and smiled again—and just like that, I could move once more.
My thoughts spun like a tornado.
Was this real?
Am I dreaming?
Please, let me wake up.
Who was that little boy?
My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared at the empty space where the boy had stood. My legs trembled, my mind spinning with more questions than I could handle. The baby in my arms cooed softly, as if nothing had just happened.
The whispers around me grew louder. People pointed, their eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place—fear? Curiosity? Worship?
I had to move.
Clutching the baby tighter, I turned and ran again, dodging through the crowd, ignoring the burning in my legs. My body knew where to go, even if my mind didn't.
A narrow alley. A rusted metal door. My hands moved before I could think, knocking three times—hard, soft, hard.
A click. The door swung open.
Inside, the air was thick with dust, but it felt… safe. Dim lights flickered overhead, revealing a long corridor. Hesitating only a second, I stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind me.
Footsteps.
I wasn't alone.
"Who are you?" a voice demanded.
I turned sharply, pressing the baby to my chest. A figure emerged from the shadows. A boy—no, a man—his face half-hidden under a hood.
His eyes locked onto mine, then flickered down to the baby. A spark of recognition crossed his face.
"Impossible," he murmured.
The baby reached toward him, gurgling happily. My pulse pounded.
"You know him?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The man took a slow step forward.
"I know who he's supposed to be."
Something in his tone sent a chill down my spine.
"What does that mean?"
He hesitated, then lifted his gaze to mine.
"It means," he said, "you just became the most dangerous person in this city."
The baby giggled.
And somewhere, in the distance, a clock began to chime.
The Game of Hearts had begun.
The man's eyes darted to the ceiling as if he could hear something I couldn't. A hum, maybe. Or the ticking of something far more ancient than any clock.
He stepped aside. "Follow me. We don't have long."
I clutched the baby and moved with him, my footsteps muffled on the cracked stone floor. The corridor twisted, and sloped downward. The deeper we went, the more the air shifted—warmer, charged.
"What's the Game of Hearts?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. At the end of the corridor, a heavy wooden door barred our path. He placed a hand on it. I noticed the ring on his finger—a silver band shaped like two serpents chasing each other's tails.
"The Game is the city's way of choosing its fate," he said finally. "And its ruler."
The door creaked open.
Inside was a cavernous chamber lit by torches, their flames a strange shade of blue. On the far wall, an enormous mosaic stretched from floor to ceiling—twelve figures encircling a central, thirteenth shape. It was broken, cracked through the middle like a shattered mirror. The baby stirred, suddenly wide-eyed and alert.
"He's a key," the man said. "Born outside the game. Not supposed to exist. But now that he's here…"
"He can win it?" I asked, heart hammering.
He shook his head.
"He is the prize."
The torches flared as if in agreement. And beneath the floor, something ancient shifted.
There wasn't time to ask more. A siren wailed in the distance—sharp, metallic, and far too close.
The man's expression darkened. "They've found us."
He grabbed a lever on the wall. "Hold on to him. Don't let anyone take him."
"What happens if they do?" I asked.
He didn't reply.
The floor dropped from beneath us. We were falling.
And the Game of Hearts was in motion.
There stood about seven people in the same clothes I was in—grey tunics, black boots, no markings. Uniforms without identity. They all looked just as confused and scared as I felt. Some clutched at nothing, others scanned the dark space like they expected monsters to lurch from the walls.
Then the phones buzzed. All of them. All at once.
I pulled mine from my pocket with trembling hands. The screen glowed red.
"7 players. The game has now begun. Difficulty: 3 of Hearts."
I looked around at the others. No one said anything. Some glanced at their screens, some at each other. I turned quickly to look behind me, but the man with the hood—the one who knew the baby—was gone. Like smoke.
And the baby? Still in my arms. Calm. Watching.
Suddenly, a loud clank echoed overhead. The ceiling panels shifted, and a spotlight beamed down onto the center of the room, illuminating a worn table with a deck of cards and seven chairs around it.
One of the others—a girl with dark eyes and a bandaged wrist—stepped forward first. She whispered, "Hearts means psychological."
"Psychological?" another player repeated. "Like mind games?"
She nodded slowly. "3 of Hearts. That's not the hardest… but they get worse. Much worse."
One by one, we took seats at the table. The cards in the center began to glow faintly, and the voice from the phones returned—cold, mechanical, unfeeling:
"Each of you has one truth, and one lie. Find the liar among you. If you vote wrong, one of you dies."
A countdown appeared. Five minutes.
Panic erupted. People shouting, accusing, trembling. But I couldn't think about them. I had the baby. I wasn't supposed to be here.
And yet, I could feel something. The baby wasn't just calm—he was guiding me. His gaze flicked toward the boy across from me. Blonde. Sweating. Fidgeting with something in his lap.
"Hey," I said sharply, pointing at him. "What's in your hands?"
He froze. "N-Nothing."
But the baby made a noise. A soft, gurgling laugh—like a signal.
We voted. Six fingers pointed at the blonde boy. He tried to scream something, but the table reacted before he could. There was no blood, no violence. He just… vanished.
The screen lit again:
"Correct. The liar has been eliminated. 6 remain."
The room pulsed once. Then went dark.
When the lights returned, the table was gone. And in its place—a map. A sprawling one. The entire city, is carved into glowing lines. Each zone is marked with a suit and a number.
And in the very center, a throne.
The baby reached a hand toward it, fingers curling.
I finally understood.
This wasn't about surviving the game.
This was about winning it.
And I was holding the next king.
A low hum filled the room—deeper than sound, something that vibrated in the bones. The map shimmered, and the throne at the center pulsed with light, as if responding to the baby's outstretched hand.
The others stared at it, stunned. Then at me.
"You knew," the girl with the bandaged wrist whispered. "You knew what this was."
"No," I said honestly. "I didn't. But… he does."
The baby looked at each of them in turn, his eyes impossibly old for someone who had barely drawn breath. And in that moment, I realized he wasn't just a baby. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
The map shifted again. One of the zones—a 5 of Spades—lit up, casting jagged shadows across the floor.
A new message blinked across our phones:
"Next challenge in 60 minutes. Zone: Spades. Difficulty: 5. Category: Physical. Move quickly. Survivors advance."
The girl swore under her breath. Someone else backed away from the glowing map, shaking their head.
"I didn't sign up for this," a man muttered. "I didn't choose this."
"None of us did," I said. "But we're in it now. All of us."
The map pulsed again. This time, a path lit up—one that led from where we stood to the outskirts of the city. No doubt, it was the only safe route. The only way forward.
We started moving, the baby cradled tightly in my arms. No one questioned it anymore. Whether out of fear or understanding, they let me lead.
We emerged into the city. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same. Billboards flickered with symbols from the deck. Cameras turned as we passed. Somewhere above, drones buzzed like curious wasps.
And I understood something else then: we were being watched. Not just by other players, but by something greater. The Game of Hearts was entertainment. A test. A war for power disguised as a series of choices.
And the baby?
He wasn't just the key. He was the reset.
The city had chosen a new king.
Now it was up to me to get him to the throne—before the others turned on us.
Before the next card flipped.
Before the Game chose someone else.
Because there could only be one winner.
And I wasn't going to let him lose.
The streets grew quieter the farther we followed the glowing path, as if the city itself held its breath. The others walked behind me in tense silence—five strangers bound by fear, fate, and the flickering edge of survival.
Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt it—the shifting. Like the rules of the world were soft clay, reshaping around us.
Then, our phones buzzed again.
"Challenge begins. Spades: Difficulty 5. Objective: Escape."
The ground beneath our feet trembled. A wall rose behind us, sealing off the road. Ahead, the path splintered—one route into a crumbling subway tunnel, the other through an alley lined with glass and barbed wire.
The choice wasn't ours to make.
The baby lifted his hand. Pointed.
Subway.
We ran.
Inside, the darkness pressed close. Broken lights flickered. Something—no, many somethings—moved in the shadows. Fast. Hungry.
The baby didn't cry. Not once.
One of the players, the man who'd said he didn't choose this, stumbled. A shape leapt from the dark and dragged him screaming into the black. We didn't stop. We couldn't.
Another was too slow, trapped behind a collapsing beam. Her final cry echoed as we sprinted through, hearts hammering.
By the time we burst into the light on the other side, only three of us remained. The girl with the bandaged wrist. A boy barely sixteen. And me—with the king in my arms.
The phones chimed.
"Spades cleared. Survivors: 3."
We collapsed onto the ground beneath a rusted bridge, gasping, broken, but alive. We all shared our names.
"I'm Maya, and my power is speed," she said.
"I'm Broke, and I can see through things," the other one added.
They both turned to me, waiting for my answer, but honestly, I had no idea what my role in all this was or what my power might be. I hesitated, my voice faltering. "I… I'm Cryctal, and I— I don't know what my power is," I admitted.
They both exchanged confused, suspicious looks, but Maya shrugged it off.
"It's fine," she said. "We made it out safely, luckily."
It was over—then, all of a sudden, that feeling came again. But this time, I felt dizzy. I heard the others screaming, "Wake up!" but I couldn't respond. My legs gave way, and I collapsed.
I was standing on the edge of a building, just looking down. The wind whipped through my hair, and the city below seemed so far away. Then, a voice cut through the haze: "I found you, Lisa."
I froze, confused. My name wasn't Lisa.
As I started to turn around, someone grabbed my arm, pulling me back from the edge.
grabbed my arm, yanking me back from the edge. I gasped, the world spinning as I struggled to steady myself. My heart hammered in my chest, the sound loud in my ears.
"Who are you?" I managed to choke out, my voice trembling. The figure was cloaked in shadows, but their grip was firm, unyielding.
"I found you, Lisa," they repeated, their voice oddly familiar, but I couldn't place it. My mind was foggy, like I was waking up from a dream—or maybe falling deeper into one.
I shook my head, trying to clear the haze. "I'm not—"
"Don't lie to me," they interrupted, their voice cold, sharp. "You're Lisa. You've always been Lisa."
I tried to pull away, but their grip tightened, pulling me further back from the precipice. My legs felt weak, the ground beneath me shifting. Was I still dreaming? Had I never woken up at all?
"I'm not Lisa," I repeated, desperation creeping into my voice. "Who are you? What is this place?"
The figure's grip softened slightly, just enough to let me breathe. "It's happening again, isn't it?" They sounded almost... sorry. "You've lost track of it all."
I felt dizzy again, the edges of my vision blurring. Was this real? Was this another part of the Game?
"No," I whispered. "No, this isn't real."
"You're right," the figure said, sounding far too calm. "But it will be. And you're going to have to remember who you really are, Lisa. Whether you want to or not."
I struggled to make sense of their words, but before I could respond, they stepped forward into the light, their face now clear.
It was me.
My own face stared back at me—only colder, harder as if someone had carved away the parts of me that were human.
"Now, let's get started, Lisa," the doppelgänger said with a twisted smile. "The Game hasn't finished with you yet."
And as my knees gave out and I collapsed, the world shifted again, and I realized with a sinking feeling—this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. I woke up with a jolt, my breath shallow, my body trembling. The world around me was blurry, and for a moment, I couldn't tell where I was. My mind was racing, the remnants of the dream—or nightmare—clinging to me like fog.
"Crystal?" a voice called softly, and then another, "Are you okay?"
Maya. Brook. The names floated to the surface of my disoriented mind, but the panic still gripped me. I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the dizziness. I looked around and saw them—Maya, with her calm expression, and Brook, anxiously watching me from the corner of the room.
I tried to sit up, but the memories of the building, the edge, the cold grip—they felt so real. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a soft gasp came out.
"What happened?" Maya asked, stepping closer, concern in her voice. "You just… you passed out. Are you okay?"
"I—" My voice faltered. "I... I saw something. Someone... they kept calling me Lisa. I—I'm not Lisa."
Brook exchanged a glance with Maya before moving to sit beside me, gently guiding me back down onto the bed. "You're not Lisa, Crystal," Brook said, his voice steady. "But whatever happened to you, whatever you saw, it's real, isn't it?"
I stared at him, confused. "I don't understand. There was this person... and they said I was Lisa. They—" I stopped myself, my heart pounding. "I don't know what's happening."
Maya's hand rested lightly on my shoulder. "We're all trying to figure it out," she said quietly. "But you're safe now. We're here, and you're with us."
I wanted to believe her. I did believe her. But the memory of the figure, the voice—it still echoed in my mind.
"We need to figure out what this means," Brook said, eyes narrowing. "If this is happening again, we're going to need to be ready."
I felt a cold chill creep up my spine. Again? What did they mean by that?
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breath. The fear was still there, buried beneath the surface, gnawing at me. But I had to focus. For Maya, for Brook, for myself.Whatever game this was, it wasn't over. And I wasn't going to let it take me again.