This code will expire.
This invitation will not be extended again.
—J.T.
* * *
Daisy blinked and read it again. The words didn’t change.
You have been selected...
“I won.” Her mouth curved as she stared in shock.
What she won was unclear, but there was a deeply satisfying sense of validation in being chosen for whatever this was.
Daisy glanced at the kitchen clock. The library closed in ten minutes. She preferred not to use her limited data plan, but this invitation expired. Fishing her phone from her bag, she powered it on.
As soon as the search bar appeared, she typed the address. The screen went emerald. Gold filigree bloomed from the edges as vines twisted into scrollwork with a small space prompting her to enter the access code.
She carefully typed: THEHARVESTING
The screen shimmered, dissolving from the glamorous welcome into what looked like a legal agreement of sorts. Daisy frowned as she read the words plastered boldly at the top of the page.
* * *
NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT
* * *
By proceeding beyond this point, you acknowledge and accept the following terms: All information regarding The Feast of the Fallen is strictly confidential. Violation of this agreement will result in immediate legal action and financial penalties not to exceed £10,000,000.
* * *
“Ten million pounds?” Her heart sank as a sharp sense of unease punctured her excitement. Who were these people?
A timer appeared at the top of the screen.
* * *
01:59:47
01:59:46
01:59:45
“Oh, shit.” She had less than two hours before her choice would disappear and the site would likely vanish again.
Not thinking about the consequences, she read on.
Her mouth went dry as she massaged her sore cheek. This wasn’t just about silencing. It was about making sure that whatever happened at this thing they called The Feast stayed buried beneath a mountain of legal terror.
What kind of gathering required this level of secrecy?
Any contract this intense should terrify her. And it did. Nervousness churned in her belly, outdone by her extreme curiosity. What was the worst they could do to her? She had nothing. If they came after her for some sort of violation, they’d be sorely disappointed with the outcome.
Daisy typed her name, her birthdate, and the numbers they asked for, all while watching that timer from the corner of her eye.
“Here goes nothing.” She signed her signature in clumsy digital scrawl. When she clicked ACCEPT, the page dissolved.
