Chapter 4:
When Alex finally opened his eyes, his head throbbed with an ache so sharp it blurred his vision for a moment. He groaned, reaching up to his temple as he tried to sit up, but something felt... different. His chest was warm as if he'd been lying in direct sunlight, though he was indoors. He instinctively looked down, and that's when he noticed it.
The necklace was gone.
Panic flared in his chest as his hands flew to his neck, feeling for the familiar chain, but there was nothing but skin. Frantic, he searched around his small apartment. The nightstand, the floor, even under the bed—nothing. It was as if the necklace had vanished into thin air.
Instead, what he did find froze him in place. There, over his heart, was a mark—small but intricate. A tattoo. It hadn't been there before.
The design was mesmerizing. Geometrical patterns intertwined with a cross at its center, flanked by stylized caskets. The lines seemed to hum with energy, pulsing faintly in time with his heartbeat. His fingers brushed over it, the warmth intensifying under his touch.
"Is this... real?" he whispered, trying to rub it off as though it were smudged ink, but the tattoo didn't budge. The warmth deepened, almost as if it were alive.
The moment his fingers lingered too long, his vision swam, and with a sudden flicker, a translucent blue screen materialized in front of his eyes, floating eerily in the air.
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Name: Alex Davis
Level: 0
College: None
Skills: None
Current Status: Confused
Mission: Unavailable
Tattoo of the Crossroads: Active
Effect: Grants access to the "Crossroads" interface. Further abilities unlock as you progress.Description: A sigil of Baron Samedi, bound to your soul. This mark signifies a pact or inheritance tied to Haverix.
======
"What the hell?" Alex exclaimed, staggering backward. The screen followed him, unwavering and surreal.
His mind raced, a dozen questions crashing into each other. The name "Baron Samedi" stood out like a glaring red flag. He'd heard the stories—rumors of the loa, guardians of the dead, and a spirit who reveled in chaos and mystery. But Haverix? That was new.
The screen glowed faintly, waiting. Then, as if on cue, a calm, feminine voice echoed in his mind, smooth yet commanding.
"If you would like more information, think the words 'more information,' or 'info' for short."
Alex froze, his breath caught in his throat. The voice wasn't external; it resonated inside his head, crystal clear and impossible to ignore. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he clutched at his chest where the tattoo continued its rhythmic pulse.
"More information," he whispered, his voice quaking with uncertainty.
The screen shifted, expanding with a flurry of new text:
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Tattoo of the Crossroads: You are bound to the realm of the loa. This sigil links your soul to the spiritual crossroads, granting access to abilities tied to death, transformation, and guidance.
Penalty: Refusal to participate or failure to adhere to your bond may result in loss of vitality, freedom, or worse.
Would you like to decline the offer? Think 'Exit' to erase the tattoo. WARNING: Declining will have... permanent consequences.
======
"Decline?" Alex murmured, incredulous. "Permanent consequences? Like what?!"
No sooner had he said the words than the tattoo flared with heat, forcing him to yank his hand back. The voice spoke again, cutting through his panic like a knife.
"You have been chosen, Alex Davis. Your journey begins at the crossroads of life and death. Choose wisely. There are no second chances."
His knees buckled slightly as the words sank in. "Chosen? I didn't ask for this! What do you mean 'no second chances'?!"
The screen remained silent for a moment as if waiting. Then it displayed a simple, chilling prompt:
Do you wish to decline the offer?
He stared at the words, his mind swirling with fear and confusion. Decline... and face permanent consequences? What did that even mean? His chest burned with a sudden intensity, urging him to decide.
"No!" Alex shouted, the word escaping him almost instinctively. The thought of whatever "permanent consequences" entailed made his blood run cold.
The screen flickered again, the text shifting once more:
Would you like to unlock your first task? Y/N
His breathing was ragged now. "First task? What is this, some kind of twisted game?" Despite his fear, his finger hovered over the tattoo, and though he didn't press anything, his whispered response felt like an unbreakable agreement.
"...Yes."
The moment the word left his lips, the tattoo blazed white-hot, sending a shiver down his spine. The voice returned, this time commanding and direct.
"Welcome to the crossroads, Alex Davis. Your first task: walk 1 mile."
Alex stared at the glowing text, dumbfounded. "Walk a mile? That's it? What kind of task is that supposed to be?"
"Every journey begins with a single step," the voice replied smoothly. "Complete the task to unlock further instructions."
It was maddeningly cryptic, but Alex realized he had little choice. Grabbing his jacket, he muttered, "Fine. Walk a mile. Sure. Whatever."
When he stepped outside, the air was different—charged, electric, as though the world had shifted ever so slightly. Shadows lingered unnaturally, their edges sharp and watching. The screen shimmered faintly in the corner of his vision, tracking his progress.
Distance Traveled: 0.0 miles.
"Of course, it would keep track," Alex muttered.
The tattoo on his chest warmed again, pulsing gently, almost as if encouraging him. He started walking, each step heavier than the last, his unease growing. Something was waiting for him, he could feel it.
By the time he reached the end of the mile, Alex was tired of walking and convinced this was a massive waste of time, but he continued wrapping up his walk back to his apartment.
Alex's screen updated:
Distance Traveled: 1.0 miles
Task Complete. Awaiting Next Instructions.
Before Alex could relax, a sudden, bone-deep chill washed over him, freezing him in place. The comforting hum of the city in the distance vanished, replaced by an eerie silence. It was as though the world itself had taken a breath and was holding it. The voice in his head returned, sharper and more commanding than before.
"You are now at the Crossroads. Speak your intent aloud."
Alex's heart raced. His breath fogged in the unnaturally cold air as he turned in a slow circle, taking in his surroundings. The crossroads stretched out in every direction, the streets veiled in shifting shadows that seemed to writhe like living things. "My intent?" he stammered, his voice trembling. "I just want answers. I want my life back."
The temperature dropped further, the chill biting into his skin. Then, from the deepest part of the shadows, a figure began to materialize. At first, it was just a blur, a smudge of darkness against the dim light. But as the figure stepped closer, details came into view.
A tall man emerged, his presence commanding and impossible to ignore. His tailored black suit was immaculate, the lapels sharp enough to cut, and his top hat sat at a cocky angle, lending him an air of irreverent elegance. His face was striking—a gleaming white skull painted over dark skin, the sockets of his eyes impossibly deep, as if staring into them might reveal an endless void.
The man radiated authority and danger, the kind of power that made Alex instinctively shrink back. And then the figure laughed. It was a deep, gravelly sound, rich and full of amusement, but it carried an edge sharp enough to slice through Alex's thoughts. The sound echoed unnaturally as if the world itself were amplifying his presence.
"Life back?" the man said, his voice smooth as velvet yet laced with menace. "Boy, you were not truly living before I found you." He stepped closer, the shadows bending and twisting in his wake until he towered over Alex. The air around him was heavy, and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.
"Baron Samedi," Alex whispered, the name tumbling from his lips like a reflex. As soon as he said it, the sigil on his chest burned with searing heat. He clutched at it, gasping, as the invisible pressure around him intensified. It felt like the weight of a thousand hands pressing him down. His legs buckled, and he crumbled to his knees.
The Baron tilted his head, his painted skull face splitting into a wide, unsettling grin. He tipped his hat with exaggerated flair, his every movement radiating charisma and danger. "At your service," he said, the words rolling off his tongue like a song. "Welcome to da Crossroads, Alex Davis."
Alex struggled to breathe under the suffocating pressure. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey. The Baron crouched down, bringing his face level with Alex's, his grin never faltering.
"Now," the Baron said, his tone dropping into something colder, more serious. "Let's talk about dat necklace of yours. Ya didn't think a trinket like that would disappear without consequences, did ya?"