Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
A cold thought slid through me:
If I lost my name, would the game still know what to call me?
“No,” the older woman whispered. “No, no, no—”
“This is what I mean,” Corvin said, his voice low and tight. “Every win here has teeth. If you gamble, assume you’re paying with something you don’t understand until it’s gone.”
The boy—*the* boy, because that was all he had now—shook his head in little jerks, as if that would dislodge the missing thing. “I can’t— I had a—”