The library closes in twenty minutes.
Arden sits at a corner table. Laptop open. Notebooks scattered. Coffee gone cold three hours ago.
Searching.
Game survivors. Entity research. Pattern analysis.
Most results are conspiracy theories. Reddit threads. 4chan posts. Useless noise.
Then she finds it.
Academic journal. Neuroscience Quarterly. 2018.
"Shared Trauma Markers in Self-Reported Reality Displacement Survivors"
Author: Dr. Evelyn Cross.
Arden's hands shake. Clicks the link.
Paywalled. Of course.
She finds a pirated PDF. Downloads it. Opens.
Scans. Brain images. Statistical analysis.
Abstract:
"This study examines 47 individuals who report surviving 'reality displacement events' (commonly termed 'death games' or 'liminal experiences'). MRI scans reveal consistent prefrontal cortex damage across all subjects, suggesting environmental rather than genetic causation..."
Forty-seven subjects.
Arden's breath catches.
She keeps reading.
"...damage severity correlated with number of reported 'deaths' within displacement event. Pattern suggests external manipulation of neural pathways..."
External manipulation.
The Entity.
Kael appears beside her. Silent. He reads over her shoulder.
"Find her," he says. Quiet. Urgent. "Dr. Cross. Now."
Arden Googles. Dr. Evelyn Cross. Boston.
Address. Phone number. Email.
She calls. Goes to voicemail.
"Dr. Cross. My name is Arden Vale. I survived the Game. I read your paper. I need to talk. Please. It's urgent."
She hangs up. Waits. Phone clutched.
Two minutes. Five. Ten.
The phone rings.
"Arden Vale?" Woman's voice. Older. Academic. Cautious.
"Yes. I. I was in the Game. Terminal Zero. Seven Stations. I survived."
Silence. Long. Heavy.
Then: "What was Station One?"
"Castle of Blood. Lady Crimson. Vampire fragment."
"Station Five?"
"Drowning City. Water everywhere. My sister. She. She died there."
Another pause. Then Dr. Cross's voice changes. Sharper. Harder.
"Meet me. Tomorrow. Noon. My office. MIT. Neuroscience building. Third floor. Don't tell anyone. Don't post online. Don't. Just come."
"Why—"
The line goes dead.
Arden stares at her phone.
"She knows something," Kael says.
"Yeah." Arden saves the address. "Something big."
[Next day. 11:47 AM. MIT Campus.]
Dr. Cross's office is small. Cramped. Papers everywhere. Books stacked floor to ceiling. Whiteboards covered in equations.
And photos. Dozens of them. Pinned to every wall.
Brain scans. All similar. All showing the same highlighted area.
Dr. Cross sits behind her desk. Sixty-something. Gray hair pulled back. Sharp eyes. Exhausted.
She looks at Arden. Studies her. Analyzing.
"You survived." Not a question. Statement.
"Yes."
"All seven Stations?"
"Yes."
"Resurrected?"
"Three times."
Dr. Cross nods. Writes something. Then pushes a consent form across the desk.
"I want to scan your brain. MRI. Today if possible. I'll pay for it. I just. I need to confirm."
"Confirm what?"
"That you're like the others. That the pattern holds."
Arden picks up the form. Reads it. Standard medical release.
"What pattern?"
Dr. Cross stands. Walks to the wall. Points to a brain scan.
"This is Sarah. Game 198. Survived five Stations. Died twice."
She points to another.
"This is Marcus. Game 203. Survived three Stations. Died once."
Another.
"This is Margaret. Game 183. Survived all seven Stations. Died six times."
Arden's heart stops.
"Margaret?"
"You know her?"
"She. She runs a support group. In Boston. For survivors."
Dr. Cross nods. Unsurprised. "She's been helpful. Connected me with others. But she. She refused to participate in further research. Fourteen years ago. Said she wanted to move on. Forget."
She turns back to Arden.
"Look at the scans. Tell me what you see."
Arden looks. Really looks.
All the brain scans. Different people. Different ages. Different genders.
But the same highlighted area. Front of the brain. Left side.
"They're all damaged in the same place," Arden says.
"Prefrontal cortex." Dr. Cross taps the region. "Impulse control. Decision-making. Risk assessment. Moral judgment."
She pulls out another scan. Fresh. Recent date stamp.
"This is Jin-Hwa Park. Game 247. Your Game. Survived three Stations. Died once. Resurrected two days ago."
Arden stares. Jin-Hwa. The surgeon. Part of her team now.
"How did you—"
"She came to me. Found my research. Wanted answers." Dr. Cross sits back down. Heavy. Tired. "They all do. Eventually. The survivors who can't forget. Can't move on. They find me."
"How many?" Arden asks.
"Forty-seven documented. Probably more I haven't found. Scattered across decades. Across continents."
Forty-seven. Always forty-seven.
"What causes the damage?" Kael asks. First time he's spoken.
Dr. Cross looks at him. Eyes narrowing.
"You're different. Not a survivor. But connected. Yes?"
"I was. Something else. Before."
She doesn't press. Just nods. Accepts it.
"The damage." She returns to Arden. "It's too precise to be accidental. Too consistent. Same location. Same severity. Across different Games. Different decades. Different people."
She pulls out a ruler. Lines it up against one scan. Measures. Then another. Then another.
"Within two millimeters. Every single time. That's not coincidence. That's not random trauma. That's deliberate. Targeted. Someone. Or something. Did this to them."
"The Entity," Arden says.
"That's what I think." Dr. Cross leans forward. "But I can't prove it. Can't scan anyone during the Game. Can't observe the damage happening. I only get them after. When they've already survived. Already been marked."
She looks at Arden. Intense. Desperate.
"But you. You killed it. Didn't you? That's what the forum says. That's what the others claim. You entered the Game. Fought. Won. Killed the Entity."
"I weakened it." Arden corrects. "But it's not dead. It's. It's adapting. Coming back. Taking more people."
Dr. Cross's face falls. Hope dying.
"Then it's not over."
"No." Arden meets her eyes. "But I'm going to finish it. End it. Permanently. I just need to understand it. Need to know how to kill it. Really kill it."
"I've been researching for thirty-three years." Dr. Cross's voice is hollow. Defeated. "Since I survived Game 89. I've published papers. Interviewed survivors. Scanned brains. Analyzed data. And I still don't understand it. Don't know where it came from. What it wants. How to stop it."
She looks at her walls. At decades of work. At photos of people damaged by something they can't explain.
"But I found something. Recently. A pattern I missed before."
She opens her laptop. Pulls up a spreadsheet. Numbers. Dates. Names.
"Every Game. Every survivor. They all have something in common beyond the brain damage."
She highlights a column.
Arden leans closer. Reads.
Game 89: May 15, 1978 Game 134: May 15, 1988 Game 183: May 15, 1998 Game 198: May 15, 2003 Game 247: May 15, 2024
"They all start on the same date," Arden whispers.
"May fifteenth." Dr. Cross nods. "Every Game. Without exception. The Entity follows a schedule. Precise. Ritualistic. It doesn't hunt randomly. It plans. Prepares. Selects."
"Why that date?" Kael asks.
"I don't know." Dr. Cross closes the laptop. "But it matters. Has to matter. Entities. Gods. Monsters. They don't do things randomly. There's always meaning. Always purpose. Always—"
Her phone buzzes. She glances at it. Face going pale.
"What?" Arden asks.
Dr. Cross turns the phone. Shows them.
News alert.
47 PEOPLE MISSING IN DOWNTOWN BOSTON - WITNESSES REPORT "PHANTOM BUS"
Arden's blood goes cold.
"It's starting again," she says. "Right now. Today."
Dr. Cross stands. Grabs her coat.
"Then we need to move. Fast. Before more people disappear. Before—"
The office door opens.
Riley stumbles in. Seventeen. Blonde. Terrified.
"Arden?" Her voice breaks. "Oh god. Arden. I. I keep seeing a bus. Number 000. It follows me. Everywhere I go. I. I think it's coming for me."
Arden's heart sinks.
"When did you first see it?"
"This morning. At my coffee shop. Then at the train station. Then outside my apartment. It's. It's real. Isn't it? It's not in my head."
"It's real." Arden stands. Moves toward Riley. "Where are you now? Where's the bus?"
"Outside. Across the street. Waiting. Just. Just waiting."
Arden runs. Out of the office. Down the stairs. Into the street.
Sees it immediately.
Bus 000. Black. Wrong. Parked across from MIT.
Empty inside. No driver. No passengers.
Just waiting.
For Riley.
Arden pulls out her phone. Calls Riley.
"Don't go near it. Don't look at it. Don't"
She sees Riley on the steps. Phone to her ear. Looking at the bus.
Then walking toward it.
"Riley! Stop!"
But Riley's not listening. Not hearing. Just walking. Hypnotized. Drawn.
She reaches the bus. Steps on.
The doors close.
The bus drives away. Into rain. Into nothing. Gone.
Arden reaches the curb. Too late. Always too late.
Kael catches up. Dr. Cross behind him.
"She's gone," Arden says. Numb. Failing.
"Then we get her back." Dr. Cross's voice is hard. Determined. "We figure out how this works. How to stop it. How to kill it."
She pulls out her keys.
"My house. Twenty minutes. I have more research there. More data. We find the vulnerability. We exploit it. We end this."
She looks at Arden. At Kael.
"You want to kill a god? I'll show you how."