Leo had been good at it. Too good. On his last night, he’d imagined the carnival itself packing up and vanishing — and it did. Every tent, every game, every laughing mask. Gone with the wind. The other players looked at him like he’d broken the world.
“Youmoves,” he whispered.
The hallway was gone. In its place stood the entrance to the carnival — rusted gates, a single flickering bulb, and a sign that read: youmoves
“Took you long enough,” said the fortune teller. She held out a shard of glass. “The game never ended, Leo. It just needed you to make the first move again.” Leo had been good at it
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