The PREDATOR And PREY

chapter 2

GRAYSON

IT WAS A PUZZLE. A very mysterious puzzle. Maybe even some kind of unusual code.

The words seemed too weird, almost like a trap, web-like as they echoed in the grand hall, leaving them stunned. Grayson felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Whoever these mysterious men were, they wanted him, Jameson, and Avery to play a twisted game. They wanted to watch them struggle, to see what the Hawthornes would do.

"Great," Jameson muttered, rolling his eyes. "Another family game night, except this time, we might actually die. Fun."

Avery shot him a look. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"Sure," Jameson grinned. "Just not when I'm supposed to."

Grayson ignored them, his mind already racing through the possibilities. His grandfather’s puzzles had always been intricate but fair. This, though—this was different. Whoever orchestrated this game had gone to extreme lengths, constructing the entire place around the challenge. But for what? To see them squirm? To break them?

"They think they can mess with us," Grayson said quietly, the edge in his voice hard. "But they underestimated a Hawthorne. They always do."

"Well, that’s comforting," Avery muttered under her breath, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Now, can we not die in the next ten minutes?”

Grayson repeated the words of the puzzle again, his mind shifting gears, breaking them down.

"In shadows deep, the hall does sigh, 
A whisper sweet beneath the sky. 
Within this room of marble cold, 
A secret lies in darkened gold. 

The clock is ticking, time’s thin thread, 
In ten breaths more, the way is dead. 
Touch the goblet, silver bright, 
Lift it high beneath the light. 

When the wine reflects the flame, 
The door will open, call your name."

"I loveeeeee riddles," Jameson said with a groan, stretching the love a little too much, leaning against the cold marble wall. "It’s always some poetic nonsense about shadows and whispers. How about just a sign that says, ‘Don’t touch that or you’ll die?’" he said it with a sarcastic tone.

"Subtlety was never your strong suit," Grayson shot back.

"No," Jameson agreed, his grin unrelenting. "But it’s worked for me so far."

Grayson moved to inspect the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over the details. The dark stone tiles gleamed under the dim light, each one arranged in a pattern so precise that it dared you to step wrong. Every footstep echoed, but the sound felt swallowed by the silence, leaving them with the suffocating feeling that they were being watched.

"This place," Avery began softly, her voice full of unease, "it’s wrong."

Jameson shot her a sideways glance. "Yeah, it has that whole 'we’re about to get murdered' vibe."

Grayson’s eyes fell on an intricate design on one of the walls. He walked toward it, brushing away the dust and spider webs to reveal letters carved hidden underneath.

"Carvings of creatures long forgotten are etched into the stone beneath your feet," he whispered, reading the inscription barely loud enough for them to hear. "As if warning you that this hall is not what it seems."

Avery moved closer, her voice tense. "What do you think it means?"

Grayson didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted toward something that made him stop, something that took his breath away. He stared at the massive gilded doors at the far end of the hall, impossibly heavy and adorned with intricate designs of kings, knights, and monsters. Their twisted iron handles resembled clawed hands reaching out, as if daring anyone to touch them.

"Well, that looks friendly," Jameson remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You two make jokes," Avery said sharply, "but this place... it’s alive. I can feel it."

Grayson glanced at her, noting the tension in her face. She was right. The entire hall felt like it was waiting for them to make a mistake, for the right moment to strike. His instincts screamed that this was a trap, designed to lure them in with grandeur and hidden danger. The grand tapestries, torn and frayed, depicted long-forgotten battles, the eyes of the kings and queens in the images seemed to watch their every move.

"The puzzle said to touch the goblet," Grayson said, stepping toward the long marble table set for a feast. The tarnished silverware and dark, stagnant liquid in the goblets gave him pause.

"Oh good, poisoned wine," Jameson quipped. "How classic."

"Shut up," Grayson snapped, his frustration boiling over. "Do you have a better idea?"

Jameson raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here... not dying."

Grayson ignored him, focusing on the goblet. His hand hesitated before he lifted it high beneath the dim light, the dark liquid inside swirling ominously. The wine reflected the flame from the chandelier above, casting an eerie glow around the room.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then, slowly, a deep rumbling sound echoed through the hall. The massive doors at the far end began to creak open, revealing a narrow, dimly lit passage beyond.

Avery let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "We’re not dead yet."

"Yet," Jameson echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Key word."

Grayson stepped forward, his eyes hard. "Let’s keep it that way." But despite his determination, the unease hadn’t left him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning, that the real game was just about to start.

The weight of unseen eyes pressed down on them, the air thick with secrets they hadn’t yet uncovered.