There were no further clues.
No one knows what happened. Some say the place is cursed. Some say it’s the perfect murder.
And the council demands answers.
So you find yourself in Yester Tower. Where, despite their inventor’s absence, Joanna’s tinkerings still whirr. Where she warded herself and her experiments against intruders. It’s up to you to solve her death. It’s up to you to outsmart and dismantle the entrapments of her work room, her living quarters, and the tower—and quite possibly its curse or its secrets.
Welcome to the case of the lonely murder.
Six
Finn
Ever has pulled on their robe and their role of game master, and there’s intense quiet in the living room as they finish their introduction.
The story settles around us.
And I can’t help but fall for it. The mood that Ever weaves teases me and pulls me in. It’s magical, and despite everything that happened, despite all the walls I built around myself, I feel like I can be free here. Here, in this expensive cabin dressed up as a castle, with its rich window curtains and leather chairs, its weird dichotomy between classic furniture and high-tech systems.
Here, all our pain falls away and all that’s left is murder. We’re trained as inquisitors and healers and thieves. We’ve built a world and a life together.
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
