In the Name of the Game

Chapter 5

She didn't open the envelope.

Not right away.

It sat on her nightstand like it belonged there. Like it had always been waiting for her to find it.

Elara stared at it while brushing her teeth. She stared at it while changing into her worn hoodie and sweats. She stared at it like if she looked hard enough, it might blink first.

It didn't.

By midnight, she'd convinced herself to leave it alone. Ignore the cryptic British man, the silver wax seal, the way her name had looked on that letter like it had been waiting its whole life to be written.

But of course, that didn't happen.

Because Elara Quinn had never been very good at pretending she wasn't curious.

By 12:03, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the envelope in her lap, hands braced on either side like it might explode.

She bit the inside of her cheek, rolled her shoulders, and whispered to no one, "This is either going to be really cool or really dumb."

Then she cracked the seal.

The wax gave with a soft snap, and inside was a single card. Heavy, cream-colored. Her name was embossed in gold at the top.

Miss Elara Quinn,

You are hereby invited to take part in the Solvitur Ordo Invitational.

Seven trials. Seven competitors. One winner.Your invitation is non-transferable.Refusal is permitted but not recommended.

Departure: Friday, 6:00 PM.

Coordinates: Enclosed.

Pack lightly. Trust no one.

We'll be watching.

There was no signature. No contact number. Just a set of folded coordinates in an unfamiliar city and a date that gave her less than three days to figure out if she was really about to join something that sounded like a cross between a secret society and an escape room designed by lunatics.

Naturally, she reread the card six times. Then Googled "Solvitur Ordo" and found nothing except a few half-dead Reddit threads full of conspiracy nuts and puzzle forums that hadn't been active in years.

She couldn't sleep.

By morning, she'd told herself she wasn't going.

By noon, she was already figuring out how she'd get there.

No name. No rules. Just a letter and a dare wrapped up in mystery.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because deep down, Elara knew she was going.

Not because she believed in secret orders or elite competitions or whatever this was supposed to be.

But because for the first time in her life, someone had looked at her—really looked at her—and said: You.

You're not average.
You're not boring.
You're worth choosing.

And she was desperate to believe they were right.