My name is Lamar Lambert. Seven years ago I played a part in covering up the murder of someone I cared deeply for. His name was Napoleon Baker. No, I didn’t actually kill him, per se, but I know who did. It was my friends. They told me it was an accident; an unexpected outcome from one of our hazing rituals for Nu Psi Nu Fraternity, Inc. Even though I never truly believed them, I still protected them by not going to the authorities with what I knew, making their secret mine as well. They think I did it because I was trying to protect the fraternity—like them. But really, I was only protecting my own ass; afraid of how a scandal like this would tarnish my family’s name.
Now I’m afraid of how this secret might be the cause of my death.
You see, two days ago I received a text message from someone calling himself The Eternal Sphinxman. And what was so disturbing about the text message wasn’t that this person claimed to be Napoleon, returned from the grave, it was that the message was a picture of one of my old friends who this Sphinxman claimed to have brutally murdered. And there was a short message attached: that I and the rest of my friends would die too because of our sins. That might be true, but you better believe I’m not going down without a fight.