The Fable-Smith's Shadow
You are a story come alive—now escape the page before your author rewrites you.
You wake to a life too perfect to be true, and soon discover why: your entire village, your family, your memories—all lovingly fabricated by a reclusive mapmaker who considers you his greatest creation. When the truth shatters your world, you must venture into the real world with the one person who knows the mapmaker's secrets—your rival, who wishes you had never been written. As you unravel the lies, you'll face an impossible choice: accept your fated role in his grand tale, or fight to become the author of your own.
The story begins
The cider house smelled of apples and woodsmoke, and you were laughing—actually laughing—when the glass slipped from your hand. It shattered against the flagstones, and the sound cut through the harvest festival's fiddle music like a blade.
The village fell silent. Every face turned. Old Marta's smile had vanished, replaced by something thin and watchful. The fiddler's bow hovered mid-stroke.
You knelt to gather the shards, and that's when you saw it—a crack in the world. Not in the floor, but beneath it, a hairline seam of darkness that pulsed once, like a heartbeat, before sealing itself shut.
You blinked. The floor was whole. The fiddle resumed. Marta's smile returned, a fraction too wide.
"Careful, dear heart," she said, her voice honeyed. "The festival is for living in the moment. Not for looking through it."
Outside, the woods stood black against the sunset, and you could have sworn the treeline had crept ten feet closer since morning.
What happens next is up to you.
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