The Stranger’s Invitation

Lina turned the black velvet invitation over in her hands again and again, unable to stop. The photograph of Amir still made her skin crawl—his smile, frozen in a moment he didn't know had been stolen from him. Her mind wouldn't stop asking the question: How did they even take it?

But now, as she studied the card once more, something new caught her eye.

Down in the lower corner—barely visible beneath the shimmer of the silver ink—was a detail she had somehow missed before. The letters seemed to appear only when held at the right angle under the dim light.

> Location: The Hall of Mirrors

Old Quarter, Block 9 – Building 17

Entrance through the back gate. 11:00 PM. Sharp.

Lina's heart thudded harder.

This wasn't a prank. This wasn't a joke. Someone wanted her to come. Someone knew her. Knew Amir. Knew everything.

And she couldn't ignore it.

She thought again of her brother's face—so open, so trusting—and of the final words on the card: "Every second counts."

She didn't have a choice.

---

By 10:45 PM, Lina was already walking through the Old Quarter. The streets felt wrong—quieter than usual, like the air itself was holding its breath. Buildings loomed tall on either side, their windows hollow, watching. The flickering street lamps sputtered like they were on the edge of death, throwing shadows that twitched with every step she took.

Her footsteps echoed too loudly.

She passed Block 7. Then 8.

And there—just ahead—stood Building 17.

It was taller than the others, narrow and strange in its shape. Ivy clung to its brick façade like veins, crawling up past the cracked windows. The door at the front was boarded shut. A broken sign hung by a rusted nail, swinging lazily in the breeze. It might have once said something, but the letters were long faded.

It looked abandoned.

And yet, Lina felt watched.

She swallowed hard, then walked around to the back of the building.

There, she found it—the back gate.

A tall, rusted iron gate stood slightly open, as if inviting her in. The metal creaked as she pushed it wider, the sound scraping through the silence like a warning.

She stepped through.

---

Inside, the hallway was narrow and dimly lit by old wall sconces, their yellow bulbs glowing like dying embers. The air was heavy with dust, and the floor creaked beneath her feet.

But what stopped her in her tracks wasn't the hallway itself.

It was the people.

At least ten others stood or sat quietly in the room just beyond the gate. Men. Women. Some old, some young. Each one holding a black envelope nearly identical to hers.

No one spoke.

They glanced at each other, then quickly looked away, as if afraid that eye contact might be enough to trigger whatever horror they were all sensing in the air.

A girl seated in the far corner met Lina's gaze for half a second. Her eyes were wide, dark, and scared. She clutched her envelope like a lifeline.

Lina made her way to a seat near the edge of the room and sat down, the silence thick with tension. The only sound was the occasional shifting of weight or nervous breathing.

Across from them, on the far wall, was a wooden door. Heavy. Old. Its surface carved with strange swirls, and at its center, a gleaming gold plaque:

> Hall of Mirrors

Above the door, a red light glowed steadily.

10:58 PM.

Lina's hands were ice.

Then—creeaak—the door opened.

Everyone turned.

An old woman stepped out, cloaked in black. Her face was hidden beneath a sheer black veil, her movements slow and deliberate. She scanned the room with eyes none could see, but all could feel. When she spoke, her voice was brittle and cold, like broken glass scraping stone:

> "The time has come.

You've been invited…

Now, you must play."

Then she stepped aside.

The red light above the door flickered once… and turned green.

No one needed to be told what it meant.

One by one, the players stood and began to walk toward the open door, each swallowed by the shadow beyond. Some moved quickly, others hesitated. But they all went in.

Lina's turn came faster than she expected.

She stood, legs shaky. Her hand reached out, fingers trembling on the brass doorknob.

She looked back one last time.

Then stepped through.

The door closed behind her with a heavy thud.

> And somewhere, deep within the building, a bell rang once—low and hollow—

as if the game had just claimed its first name.

---