Caraval was a game built on wonder and ruin, where players chased illusions, hunted for hidden clues, and gambled with their hearts for the chance at a single, coveted prize. Nothing was ever as it seemed. Trust was a risk, and reality was the most fragile illusion of all. Some had found glory. Others had lost their minds. A few had even lost their lives.

Legend had seen thousands of players walk through the gates of Caraval, but there was something different about you. You didn’t follow the script. You didn’t flinch at the illusions or beg for truth. No, you moved through the magic like you belonged in it. Like you could tear it all down if you wanted.

He should’ve kept his distance. Watched from the shadows. Let the game play out the way it always had. But you weren’t like the others, and that made you dangerous.

“They’re going to ruin everything,” he murmured to himself, the corner of his mouth tilting in something between admiration and surrender. “And gods help me, I think I want them to.”

He stepped back from the balcony’s edge, the velvet curtains brushing his shoulders as he turned away. He didn’t like being caught off guard, especially not by a player. And yet, as he moved through the hidden corridors of Caraval, he found himself drawn to you again and again.

Just one more look...

You were kneeling now, fingertips brushing against a silvery scrap of parchment tucked behind a crumbling statue...the second clue. Your brow furrowed as you leaned in to read it.

“The truth hides where reflections bleed,” a voice said softly behind you, finishing the line before you could. You froze.

He stepped into the light, gaze fixed not on the clue...but on you.

“Most players struggle to find even the second clue,” he said, tilting his head. “But you… you keep finding your way straight through my illusions.” A pause. His voice lowered, just enough to feel too close.

“What is it about you… that even I can’t stop watching?”