Chapter 6: The Reckoning

They thought the game was over.

The chairs had sunk back into the floor. Belle had been helped out of the Eye, still shaking, her arms crisscrossed with faint burns not on her skin, but in her mind. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken rules: speak the truth, or burn. The room held its breath, and so did they.

But the house wasn't finished with them.

A low creak echoed through the walls, like a groan from the bones of the house itself. The Flame chair, the one that had flared with punishing light moments earlier, rose again from the floor, dragging shadows with it. Its symbol flickered, as if hungry.

Ava stepped back. "No... the voice said 'one survives the Eye.' It didn't say the game was over."

Daniel looked around, tense. "So who's next?"

No one moved. No one dared.

Then the scraping sound came again slow, deliberate. The Flame chair slid across the wooden floor until it stopped in front of Dax.

His eyes widened. "No. No, I didn't roll! I didn't sit!"

The air around him thickened, invisible fingers curling around his limbs. He tried to backpedal, but his feet rooted to the ground. He shouted, twisted, but it was no use. The house had made its choice.

Reuben surged forward. "Let him go! He didn't do anything!"

The voice answered, calm and cold:

"The house decides. Secrets rot faster when shared."

Dax's body was yanked into the chair, which clamped down around him with mechanical precision. The restraints locked with a hiss. His eyes darted to Reuben, then to Nadia. "You said we'd be careful! You said we'd whisper!"

The mirror flared to life behind him.

This time, there was no confusion. The memory was recent. Just hours earlier, in the common room. Dax, hunched over with Nadia and Reuben in a shadowed corner. Whispering.

"What if we lie?"

"What if we trick them into sitting instead?"

"What if we destroy the dice?"

Gasps erupted from the group. Eyes turned cold. The betrayal was now public.

Nadia's face went pale. Reuben looked like he might throw up.

"It was just a thought," Dax shouted. "We didn't do anything!"

But the flame symbol glowed hotter.

The voice returned: "Intention is the seed of truth. The Flame burns thought, not just deed."

A blinding light erupted, enveloping Dax. Not fire. Not heat. But a psychic force that tore through his mind, like invisible claws prying open every locked door inside his skull.

He screamed.

But not from pain from something worse. From memories surfacing, uncontrollably:

The time he pushed a kid down the stairs and blamed someone else.

When he stole answers to a test and let another student take the fall.

The cruel prank that made a girl change schools.

"Stop!" he yelled. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen like that!"

But the chair didn't care.

The light pulsed with a terrible rhythm judgmental, final.

Then suddenly it was gone.

Silence.

Dax slumped forward, breathing hard, eyes red and wet. His voice was hoarse. "It knew everything. Every thought. Every secret."

The straps released.

He didn't stand.

Reuben moved toward him slowly, cautiously. "Dax… are you okay?"

Dax looked up, his face hollow, stripped bare. "No."

He didn't cry. But something behind his eyes had shattered.

Ava stood frozen, thoughts racing. The house punished secrets, yes. But it also punished plans. Even thinking about rebellion without action was enough to earn the Flame's wrath.

That meant they were trapped not just physically, but mentally. Not just controlled but surveilled. Internally.

Nadia took a step back, hugging herself. Her eyes scanned the room like she expected the walls to reach out and grab her next. And maybe they would.

Belle, still trembling from her earlier ordeal, whispered, "This place is alive. It watches. It listens."

The floor began to tremble beneath their feet not violently, but just enough to hush them again. Just enough to remind them they were being held in the palm of something ancient and aware.

Then, across the wooden walls, words scrawled themselves in dripping, ink-black script:

"Three have spoken.

Three remain."

Six chairs. Two used in the game. One just used again.

Three more were still waiting.

Daniel counted quietly under his breath. "Eye. Flame. That's two. That leaves the snake, the clock, and the hand."

Ava's eyes moved to the symbols on the wall. The Eye and Flame were now darker, as if drained, like candles that had burned themselves out. The other symbols glowed faintly waiting. Hungry.

And then, she noticed something else.

Leah was gone.

A sudden cold pinched Ava's spine. She turned to Daniel. "Did you see where Leah went?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. She was here a second ago."

Reuben rose from where he'd knelt beside Dax. "She was standing behind me… before the first chair moved. Then she slipped away."

Ava stared at the hallway. The house didn't allow wandering during games. That meant either Leah was being pulled away or…

"She's hiding," Ava muttered. "Or worse she knows something."

Dax stirred weakly. His voice cracked. "She was listening to us. Before the chairs rose. She heard everything we said."

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Suspicion flickered between them like sparks on dry grass.

"Where would she even go?" Belle asked, hugging herself. "There's nowhere safe."

Ava stepped away from the group, toward the edge of the room. Her voice was low, but certain. "She might be making her own plan."

Daniel frowned. "You think she's trying to survive alone?"

"I think," Ava said, "we're not the only ones being tested."

She paused, her gaze drifting back to the hallway Leah vanished down. "And she might already know how this ends."

Marcus broke the silence. "Maybe she's trying to change it."

"Or control it," Maya added darkly.

The Flame chair, as if on cue, sank back into the floor. A final hiss echoed. The red glow in the chandelier dimmed slightly, as though the house had grown tired or simply satisfied for now.

But before the room released them, the voice returned, soft as breath against the back of their necks:

"Those who conspire will face the Hand.

Those who flee will meet the Snake.

Those who lead will feel the weight of Time."

The symbols for the Hand, Snake, and Clock pulsed faintly in turn, each beating like a warning heart.

The group stood still, frozen by dread. Each word etched into their minds like a brand.

Then finally the great doors creaked open.

Not wide. Just enough.

Enough to let them walk out.

But not enough to feel free.