The Roll of the Dice

chapter one

The musty smell of the basement mixed with the faint tang of pizza and soda, creating the perfect atmosphere for a Friday night Dungeons & Dragons session. Seven teenagers sat around a large table, its surface cluttered with character sheets, notebooks, scattered dice, and an assortment of snacks. The room was dim, illuminated only by a single overhead light, casting shadows on the faces of the players. 

At the head of the table, Ezra leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene with a quiet authority. His blue eyes, sharp and observant, moved across the game board in front of him, as if mentally preparing for what lay ahead. He’d spent hours crafting this campaign, the latest chapter in an epic saga that had spanned months. His friends, though chaotic and sometimes immature, trusted him to lead them through it. He ran his hand over his short, curly black hair, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. 

Ezra was 18, the oldest of the group, and it showed not just in age but in demeanor. His wisdom, a rare trait for someone so young, had earned him the role of the group's leader both in the game and in their daily lives. His tan skin had darkened slightly from the summer sun, but it was his calm, thoughtful gaze that gave him an air of quiet confidence. The others often relied on his level-headed approach, especially when tensions flared, which they often did in their group. 

He cleared his throat, bringing the group’s attention back to him. “Alright, team,” he began, his voice steady and deliberate, “the village of Valewind is under attack. Goblins from the north are pouring in by the dozens. The villagers have gathered what little they can to defend themselves, but without outside help, they’ll be slaughtered by morning.” 

The group, despite their various states of attention or distraction, began to lean in slightly. The game had started. 

Mona, sitting to Ezra’s right, was already deep into her character sheet, her pale blonde hair falling over her face as she scanned the details. Her green eyes, narrowed in concentration, flicked up briefly at Ezra before returning to the paper in front of her. At 17, Mona was known for her intensity. She approached the game with the same no-nonsense attitude she applied to everything in life, whether it was schoolwork or an argument. She had a fiery temper, especially when it came to Leika, but she was fiercely loyal. The kind of person you could trust to watch your back, as long as you didn’t cross her. 

Her voice cut through the silence like the edge of a blade. “My Rogue elf is already hiding in the shadows,” she said, a glint of excitement flashing in her eyes. “I’m going to scout ahead and try to locate their leader. Once I find him…” She trailed off, letting her words hang in the air. Everyone knew what Mona’s Rogue would do once she found her target—eliminate him without a second thought. 

Leika, seated across from her, snickered. The playful troublemaker of the group, Leika lived for moments like this. She loved getting under Mona’s skin, and she did so with the precision of a master irritant. Her hazel eyes danced with amusement as she leaned back in her chair, one leg draped lazily over the other. Her sun-kissed skin stood in stark contrast to her messy, blue-dyed hair that poked out from under her signature black cap. It wasn’t just the hair color that drew attention—Leika exuded a rebellious energy that set her apart from the rest. 

“Oh, Mona,” Leika said, her voice teasing, “you take this so seriously. Relax a little. Sometimes the point of a game is to have fun, not just kill everything that moves.” Her grin widened as she twirled a dice between her fingers, clearly enjoying the way Mona’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

Mona’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t take the bait. Not yet. “Just don’t screw this up, Leika. The last thing we need is another one of your ‘accidents.’” 

Leika raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin never wavering. “No promises,” she said, winking across the table. 

Amelia, seated next to Leika, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. At 16, she was the youngest of the group and still relatively new to the game. Her long brown hair framed her round face, and she adjusted her glasses nervously as she glanced at her character sheet. Amelia wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and in this group, where personalities clashed as often as dice were rolled, it was easy to get lost in the chaos. Her character, a healer mage, was crucial to the party’s survival, but Amelia often found herself doubting her own contributions. 

“I, um… I can cast a protection spell on the villagers, maybe?” she offered timidly, her voice soft. She looked up at Ezra, seeking reassurance more than anything. 

Ezra gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s a great idea, Ame. We’ll need all the help we can get.” 

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Her cheeks flushed slightly at the praise, and she nodded, feeling a bit more confident. 

Next to Amelia sat Manuel, slouched low in his chair, looking as though he might fall asleep at any moment. His black shoulder-length hair hung in front of his gray eyes, and he absentmindedly twirled a pencil in his fingers. Manuel was quiet, almost too quiet, but there was an underlying sharpness to him that showed in how he played the game. His thief character was as unassuming as he was, but deadly when underestimated. 

“I guess my thief will sneak around, maybe steal a couple of weapons or something,” he muttered, barely looking up from his character sheet. “Nothing too fancy.” 

“Classic Manny,” Lenore said with a grin from across the table. Lenore’s laid-back attitude was a perfect counterbalance to the group’s more intense personalities. His dark skin gleamed in the dim light, and his short green-dyed hair stood out against the room’s muted tones. His brown eyes sparkled with amusement as he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, as though drumming to a beat only he could hear. Music was his passion, and everything he did—whether in the game or out of it—was infused with rhythm and flow. 

“My bard’s gonna inspire the villagers,” Lenore announced, leaning back in his chair. “You know, sing some epic songs to get them all fired up for battle. Gotta keep those vibes high.” 

Ezra nodded, appreciating Lenore’s lightheartedness. He knew that the bard’s role was as much about boosting morale as it was about strategy. 

Finally, there was Nola, who sat at the far end of the table, her fingers tapping rapidly on her phone. Her wavy auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes were focused intently on the screen in front of her. Nola was beautiful, confident, and popular—a trifecta that made her participation in a “nerdy” game like D&D all the more surprising. No one at school knew she played, and she intended to keep it that way. Despite her obsession with maintaining her image, her character—a lost princess on a quest to reclaim her throne—was one of the most complex and intriguing of the group. 

“Nola,” Ezra called, trying to draw her attention away from her phone. “What’s your move?” 

She sighed, reluctantly setting her phone down. “My princess will rally the villagers. They’ll listen to royalty, right? I’ll give them a speech or whatever to get them ready for the fight.” 

Ezra smiled, satisfied that everyone was finally engaged. “Perfect. We’ve got a solid plan. The goblins will attack at dawn, and we need to be ready. Is everyone set?” 

There was a collective murmur of agreement, some more enthusiastic than others. Leika flipped her dagger-shaped game piece into the air, catching it effortlessly with a smirk. Mona, meanwhile, was already scribbling notes, her mind racing with strategies for the battle ahead. 

Ezra leaned forward, the atmosphere in the room growing more tense as the group prepared for the next phase of the campaign. He reached for the twenty-sided die in front of him, his fingers hovering over it for a brief moment before he let it roll across the table. 

The die clattered against the wood, bouncing a few times before coming to a stop. 

Ezra’s eyes widened. “Natural twenty,” he whispered. “A critical success.” 

A ripple of excitement spread through the group, even Mona couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Finally, something goes right,” she muttered, casting a glance at Leika, who gave her a playful wink in return. 

“The goblin army breaks,” Ezra continued, his voice filled with the gravitas of the moment. “Your coordinated assault decimates their ranks. The villagers are safe, and the goblin leader lies at Mona’s feet, defeated by her blade.” 

The group cheered, a rare moment of collective celebration. Even Nola cracked a smile, momentarily forgetting about her phone. 

But just as the victory began to settle in, something strange happened. 

The light overhead flickered once, twice, before plunging the room into total darkness. 

“Uh, what the hell?” Leika’s voice cut through the silence, her usual humor replaced with confusion. 

Ezra instinctively reached for his phone to use the flashlight, but his hand froze mid-motion. There was a strange sensation in the air, a low hum that seemed to reverberate through the room. It wasn’t just a power outage—there was something else, something… wrong. 

“Everyone, stay calm,” Ezra said, his voice steady but edged with uncertainty. 

Amelia whimpered softly, and Lenore grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s probably just a power outage,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual carefree tone. 

The hum grew louder, filling their ears with a strange, otherworldly vibration. It was as if the very air around them was vibrating, alive with some invisible force. Then, without warning, the room seemed to spin—faster and faster, until the world around them blurred into nothingness. 

The table, the chairs, the basement—all of it vanished. 

And then—silence. 

Ezra was the first to stir. His vision blurred as he blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He wasn’t in the basement anymore. The familiar clutter of the game room was gone, replaced by… grass. Soft, cool grass beneath his hands. He blinked again, his mind struggling to comprehend the change. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, carrying the scent of pine and earth. 

Slowly, Ezra pushed himself up, his heart racing. Where was he? How had they gotten here? He scanned the area, his eyes widening as he took in the landscape around him. Rolling hills stretched out in every direction, dotted with dense forests and jagged mountain peaks in the distance. The sky above was a brilliant shade of blue, unmarred by clouds or pollution. 

But it wasn’t just the world that had changed. 

Ezra looked down at himself, his breath catching in his throat. His body—his clothes—they weren’t his anymore. He was clad in gleaming armor, the crest of a knight emblazoned on his chest. A sword, heavy and real, was strapped to his side, and a shield rested against his back. It was impossible, but somehow… he had become his character. 

“Mona!” Ezra’s voice cracked with urgency as he turned, spotting the others scattered nearby. 

Mona groaned as she sat up, her green eyes wide with shock as she took in her surroundings. Her usual sharp demeanor was momentarily replaced by confusion. “Ezra… what the hell is this?” She looked down at herself, eyes widening as she saw the dark leather armor clinging to her body, the twin daggers at her side. “This… this can’t be real.” 

But it was real. Too real.