Rain slicked streets glistened under the dim glow of Drakensport's lanterns, reflecting puddles that smelled faintly of coal and damp stone. Kael crouched on the edge of the alley, watching as coin purses clinked and footsteps echoed. Hunger clawed at his stomach, but it wasn't hunger that made him shiver—it was opportunity.
A shadow detached itself from the fog. A cloaked figure slid silently to the edge of the alley and pressed something cold and metallic into Kael's palm.
A die. A golden die, etched with runes that seemed to shift under his gaze.
"Every roll changes your destiny… but beware—some moves cost more than gold," the figure whispered, voice like dry leaves. Then they melted back into the mist.
Kael's fingers tightened around the die. He had nothing to lose. With a flick of his wrist, he rolled it across the cobblestones.
The die spun and tumbled, leaving a Fait trail of l
Light in its wake. And then, the world tilted. The alley vanished, replaced by an enormous board stretching beyond the horizon. Towns, castles, dungeons, and forests formed squares on a glowing grid, and Kael—no longer in his tattered coat but standing in simple traveler's garb—stumbled forward.
"What the…?" He muttered, staggering. Around him, other figures looked equally bewildered. A mage with fiery hair muttered incantations under her breath, and a silent archer checked his bow as if instinct had told him the danger was real.
"This… this isn't real, is it?" Kael asked, but his voice sounded too small in the vastness of the board.
"Real enough to kill you," the mage replied sharply, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Name's Liora. And you are?"
"Kael," he said, swallowing hard. "And, uh… we're trapped?"
The archer nodded slightly. "Thane," he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were cold. "And yes. It's a game. A deadly one."
Before Kael could ask more, a faint rumble shook the ground. A dungeon square ahead shuddered, stones splitting and skeletal hands clawing from the cracks. A trap. His first challenge.
Kael's gut twisted. He could run, but he could see the loot: a sword glowing faintly red, a chest brimming with gold and jewels. He swallowed, took a breath, and stepped forward.
One choice. One roll. And Kael's life—or death—began with the roll of a die.
He lifted it again, feeling the weight of a thousand possibilities pressing down on him. With a flick of his wrist, the die leapt into the air… and the shadows shifted, watching. Somewhere in the distance, a whisper floated on the wind:
"The Shadow Syndicate is coming. Watch your next move… carefully."
Kael's heart thundered. He had no idea what he'd just stepped into—but one thing was clear: this game wouldn't let him go.