Welcome to Gaia! ::

The city never truly slept, but in the quiet lull between afternoon and evening, Howick liked to wander. The streets were full enough that she didn’t feel alone, yet calm enough that the press of humanity didn’t overwhelm her. Tonight was supposed to be just that—a simple walk, a way to clear her mind.

Her step slowed when something caught the faint light of a streetlamp. At first glance it was nothing remarkable, just a small shape on the edge of the sidewalk. A coin? A button? She bent to pick it up, expecting something forgettable.

Instead, the wooden die rested in her palm like it belonged there. Old, stained, the edges smooth with age, but veins of opal shimmered beneath its surface. Numbers were etched in gold, gleaming faintly even in the dim light. A strange heat rose in her chest, not painful, but insistent. She should have put it back. She knew better—objects that called to you in Destiny City rarely brought anything good.

And yet she couldn’t look away.

The wind slammed into her like a wall. She gasped and staggered, curling her hand protectively around the die. The city blinked out. Darkness swallowed everything, cold and heavy, until the world snapped into a new form.

A board. A path. Perfectly clear squares stretched out before her, unraveling into the void. She turned sharply, but behind her was nothing but blackness. She tried to step aside and was met with resistance—an invisible barrier that jolted her like glass beneath her palm. Trapped.

Her eyes lifted. Far ahead, a platform glimmered, wood and opal reflecting the same strange beauty as the die. Golden symbols shone faintly on its edges, just out of reach.

Howick exhaled slowly, a shaky smile tugging at her lips despite the tension prickling her skin. “Of course. A game.” Her voice sounded too loud in the stillness. “And here I thought I was just taking a walk.”

Her fingers tightened on the die. She didn’t need instructions; she could feel the rules in her bones. To move forward, she would have to roll.

The die landed, and the air shifted.

Salt stung her nose, sharp and briny, as the faint sound of waves rolled through the darkness. Boards creaked under unseen weight, bells chimed in the distance, and then a voice began to sing.

It was haunting. Gentle. Impossible to ignore.

Howick’s chest ached as if the melody had wrapped itself around her ribs. For a fleeting heartbeat, she felt herself falling in love—with the song, with the promise of peace it carried.

Then the water hit.

Her lungs burned as icy liquid filled them, choking her, dragging her down into an ocean that wasn’t there. Her hands flew to her throat, though she could still see the square beneath her boots. Shadows rippled at the edges, and slick, scaly fingers curled over the barrier. They caressed her ankle, her wrist—touches that promised comfort even as they tried to pull her under.

The song rose, coaxing her into surrender, into an endless sleep in the cold dark below.

The die landed, and silence stretched for a beat too long.

Then the screech split the air.

Bats burst from the darkness overhead, a whirling storm of wings and shrieks. Howick lifted her arms instinctively, but this time, they weren’t just circling or scratching. They dove. Tiny teeth sank into her arm, her shoulder, even the edge of her jaw.

The pain was sharp and quick—but the effects were worse.

Her skin crawled with agitation, every sound and flicker of movement needling at her nerves. Cold seeped into her bones, marrow-deep, no matter how she shivered. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a hollow ache that whispered of desperation.

The bats swooped again, their red eyes flashing, eager for more. The thought struck her like ice: these symptoms might not fade when the bats did. They could follow her out of the square, gnawing at her for hours, days.

Snarling, she tore the die from her belt and slammed it against the board. “Enough!”

The bats scattered as the die clattered, their cries drowned beneath the rattle of its tumble. The board shifted, waiting to see if she’d escape their curse—or carry it with her.

The die lands one last time, and the path ahead shimmers with opalescent light.

Howick steps forward, and the darkness recedes. The air hums softly, warm and calm, carrying a gentle glow that wraps around her like a soft cloak. Each step feels lighter than the last, the tension of the Gameboard melting away.

If she arrived with a companion, she can wait for them, watch them cross the final square, and share the relief. Or she can leave first, feeling the quiet satisfaction of surviving the trials alone.

The board dissolves behind her, and Destiny City reappears—streets, lights, and sounds restored to their usual rhythm. In her hand, the six-sided die rests. Smooth, opalescent, beautiful. She could keep it as a trinket, a reminder of the strange game, though nothing about it seems magical anymore. Perhaps that’s for the best.

For now, the adventure is over—and the city waits.