Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

THE OPPORTUNIST

(TAKE WHAT IS YOURS)

CHAPTER I: THE HERO AND THE PRINCESS

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

The end of the world? What do you mean?

The Narrator: I mean the end of everything as we know it. No more birds, no more trees, and, perhaps most problematically of all, no more people. You have to put an end to her.

I’m not going to just kill someone because I’ve been told to. I need evidence to back this up.

The Narrator: Look, you’re already on the path that leads to the cabin. Why would you be here if it weren’t to complete a very important task? You’ve made it this far, you might as well reach the end of your journey.

My journey? I… how did I even get here… I don’t remember anything…

The Narrator: And you don’t need to. You are here to slay the princess, and save the world.

Regardless, you must tell me why she’s dangerous or I won’t kill her.

The Narrator: She’s not dangerous. She’s just a princess. The danger comes if she gets out. Which she will, unless you do something about it.

You need to be more specific. Destroying the world isn’t something that just happens.

The Narrator: The more specifics you have, the harder it will be for you to do this very important job. She’s a princess. People will listen to her, because listening to her is in their nature. And when they do, everything will come crashing down.

Look, I’ll go to the cabin and talk to her. If she’s as bad as you say she is, maybe I’ll slay her. But I’m not commiting to something like that without at least meeting her face to face.

The Narrator: Then I guess we’ll just have to see what happens. But a word of warning - if you go in prepared to hear her out, she could easily trap you in her web of lies. And the more you listen to her honeyed words, the harder it’ll be to pull yourself out. Then each and every one of us is doomed. So sure, go talk to her… see how that turns out for all of us. You make your way up the short path to the cabin. You’ll find the Princess within.

Voice of the Hero: We’re not going through with this, right? She’s a princess. We’re supposed to save princesses, not slay them.

The Narrator: Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Wait, he has a point. Why are you making me do this?

The Narrator: First of all, you’re slaying her. Second, for both of you, princesses can be evil, you know. It’s merely a title for the daughter of a king and queen, not a title of morality. Now, you continue until you reach the foot of a hill, atop is the cabin. You go inside, to be met with the interior. It is almost entirely bare. The air is stale and musty and the floor and walls are painted in a fine layer of dust. The only furniture of note is a plain wooden table. Perched on that table is a pristine blade. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

I said I'm talking to her first.

The Narrator: I know, and you will realize I’m right and then come back for the blade. I’m saving you time.

No. Not yet, anyway.

The Narrator: You open the door to the basement, the creaking of wood rattling the cabin. It reveals a staircase faintly illuminated by an unseen light in the room below. This is an oppressive place. The air feels heavy and damp, a hint of rot filtering from the ancient wood. If the Princess really lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her voice softly carries up the stairs.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Voice of the Hero: It’s hypnotizing… the kind of voice you only have to hear once to remember it the rest of your life.

The Narrator: Don’t let it fool you. It’s all part of the manipulation. You’re playing a dangerous game by coming her unarmed.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

“You are? It’s been so long since anyone’s come down here. I was starting to think they’d forgotten about me.”

The Narrator: You walk down the stairs and lock eyes with the Princess. There’s a heavy chain around her wrist, binding her to the far wall of the basement.

Voice of the Hero: She’s beautiful. How could someone like this be a threat to anyone?

The Narrator: I am begging you to stay focused. There is a lot riding on you here.

“Hi! Do you think you can get me out of these chains?”

”I don’t know… can we chat a bit? I’ll try thinking in the meantime.”

“Okay.”

”What’s your name?”

“Oh…”

The Narrator: She pauses, carefully formulating her words before she responds.

“You can address me as ‘Your Royal Highness.’ Or you can just call me ‘Princess’ if ‘Your Royal Highness’ is too formal.”

Voice of the Hero: Is ‘Princess’ her name or her title? What if it’s both? Could you imagine being named Princess Princess?

Or John John. Or Smith Smith. But then again, those are repeated surnames, not titles.

The Narrator: It’s not her name then. Another way for her to be in control of the situation.

”You say it’s been a while since someone came down here… have you been eating and drinking?”

“...I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

The Narrator: This is the only time this is ever going to happen, but I agree with the Princess. That’s hardly relevant.

Voice of the Hero: Okay but actually, what has she been eating? She has to eat, right?”

The Narrator: Focus!

”I don’t mean to imply anything, but you are locked up and it must be for a reason.”

“Of course there’s a reason! I don’t actually know what that reason is, but you don’t just stuff a princess in a basement and throw away the key without there being some sort of explanation… right?”

The Narrator: You have all the explanation you need. And you should know better than to trust whatever she comes up with.

”Forgive my questions, it’s about time we get you out of those shackles.”

The Narrator: You’re only making this more difficult…

“Thank you, thank you!”

The Narrator: You’re making a huge mistake.

Voice of the Hero: No. You’re doing the right thing.

The Narrator: You walk up to the chains binding the Princess to the wall and give them a tug. They’re large and heavy, far too solid for you to even imagine trying to break them apart.

“I’m guessing you don’t have the key.”

Voice of the Hero: Maybe it’s somewhere upstairs?

The Narrator: Doubtful. Whoever locked the Princess away down here intended for her to never see the light of day. They wouldn’t have just left the key to her chains somewhere in the cabin.

”I’ll check upstairs, maybe it’s still lying around up there? If not, I can at least find something to break you free.”

“Okay, I’ll be here. Good luck.”

The Narrator: You attempt to make your way out of the basement, but the door at the top of the stairs slams shut. You hear the click of a lock sliding into place.

“Hey, let me out of here!”

The Narrator: Your shouts and pleas are met with silence. I’ll repeat myself once again. You’re here to slay the Princess, and you won’t leave until the task is done

I won’t, or I can’t?

The Narrator: Hardly matters. The door is locked, and there is only the basement to go to. You make your way to the bottom of the stairs. This would have been so much easier if you’d just taken the blade like you were supposed to.

Voice of the Hero: Easier for whom?

For him.

The Narrator: For everyone. Look at the mess you’re in.

“I heard the door slam… they locked you down here too, didn’t they?”

The Narrator: There’s a slight panic rising in the Princess’ voice.

“If I could just get out of these chains I know we could force our way out of here together.”

The Narrator: She barely hesitates before raising her arm to her mouth, her teeth tearing through her limb with the determination of a trapped wolf.

What!?

The Narrator: As she rips her flesh from her bone, a sound comes from behind you. The clang of bouncing metal. It’s the blade from upstairs. You’re not sure how it made its way down here, but if there’s a time to strike, it’s now.

Voice of the Hero: Or we could use it to free her.

The Narrator: You won’t like what happens if you do that.

”Why are you tearing your flesh off like that!?”

The Narrator: Her eyes briefly look at you instead of her arm.

“I just need to get out… this is all that came to mind and it’s working.”

Okay… let’s use the blade to release her then. Quicker and cleaner.

The Narrator: Ugh. Fine. Against your better judgment, you pick up the blade and place it against the ragged, self-inflicted wound on the Princess’ arm. Just above the unyielding chain binding her to this place. You cut into her flesh. The blade is sharp, and it takes little effort to crack through the bone of the arm. Her limb falls to the ground, and the heavy chains follow suit.

Voice of the Hero: She didn’t so much as utter a sound through the whole ordeal.

The Narrator: No. She didn’t. She smiles softly as her gaze meets yours, blood from her wounded arm dripping rhythmically to the ground.

Voice of the Hero: How is she still smiling after everything? It’s like she isn’t even bothered by what just happened.

“Thank you, now let’s get out of here.”

The Narrator: No! We won’t have any of that. The stakes are too high. You can’t just let her escape… no, I can’t just let her escape into the world. As the Princess approaches the bottom stair, your body steps forward and raises the blade.

Voice of the Hero: Wait, this isn’t fair. You can’t just do that!

The Narrator: Watch me.

Why can’t… why can’t I put it down… dammit!

The Narrator: You plunge the blade into her neck, the skin audibly being sliced. Before you cna reach the spine, the Princess jumps forward and turns around, getting ready to fight.

“We could have gotten out of here together! Were you just lying to me this whole time? I don’t know what’s come over you, but if I have to kill you then I will. Do you think I need both of my arms to do that?”

Fuck! Just let me- hrghh!

The Narrator: She pounces on you with the same animal ferocity she used to tear through her arm. But you have a weapon. You instinctively raise the blade, digging it under her ribs, aiming directly for the heart. It’s not enough to stop here. You feel her claws on your throat, then her teeth, somehow sharp enough to pull apart your flesh and sinew with ease.

How is she so strong!?

The Narrator: You collapse to the floor, your body unresponsive as your blood pools on the ground beneath you. She stares down at your ravaged form, eyes shining in the darkness, dress stained in red as her blood and yours both seep into the fabric. If we’re lucky, the wound you managed to inflict will kill her before she can reach the outside world.

Voice of the Hero: It can’t just end like this, right?

The Narrator: As much as I’d prefer for things to have gone differently, I can’t deny the reality of what’s happened. I’m sorry, but it’s over. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER II: THE WITCH

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t it will be the end of the world.

You bastard! You got us killed!

The Narrator: What are you talking about? You’re clearly alive.

Voice of the Hero: If He doesn’t remember what happened, then maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

Voice of the Opportunist: Brilliant. We need to keep our cards close to our chest, and I’m not sure we can trust Him.

The Narrator: You know I can hear you, right? It’s going to be a lot harder than you think to keep secrets from me.

Voice of the Opportunist: Oh… did I say ‘I’m not sure we can trust Him?’ Slip of the tongue. Bit of the old brain fog. I meant to say that we should probably head over to the cabin and slay that Princess. We already know we can’t trust her, so let’s get on with the show.

No, you took control of my body and did something I would NOT have done otherwise.

The Narrator: If that were to have happened, I would’ve only done it if there were no other options.

If you believe me for a second that this already did happen, why should I listen to you know? Does what I do even matter anymore?

The Narrator: Those are two very different questions, but fine. I’ll indulge you if that’s what it takes to get you moving. Let’s say for a moment that this really is the second time you’ve met me, or at least, a version of me. If you’re back here, I’m assuming you died, which probably only happened because you didn’t listen to me.

Voice of the Opportunist: We were just weighing our options in a morally ambiguous situation. You can’t blame us for weighing our options.

The Narrator: I can if you failed to slay the Princess, which you apparently did. So, great. Congratulations. You’ve been given another chance to actually do this right. And I believe your other question was ‘oh what’s the point of doing anything?’ If you’re asking that, it sounds to me like you’re making the rather dangerous assumption that your actions last time around didn’t have any consequences.

Voice of the Hero: What do you mean? Of course there weren’t any consequences. We were killed by the Princess, and now everyone’s right back where they started. That sounds pretty consequence-free to me.

The Narrator: Yes, but, in this purely hypothetical scenario, that begs the question of how you got back here. Did time simply rewind itself, or were you instead transported to a different world entirely? If it’s the latter, what do you think happened after you died? Do you think the people there lived happily ever after, or do you think that the Princess, left unhindered, brought about the end to everyone and everything, just like I told you she would?

Voice of the Opportunist: That’s a very good point. This Princess character seems like a lot of trouble. And if you think about it, actually slaying her probably breaks us out of this cycle, right? We don’t want to be stuck here forever, do we?

Voice of the Hero: You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?

Voice of the Opportunist: Laying it on a little thick? What are you talking about? I’m sharing my honest opinions.

The Narrator: What matters is that everyone seems to be on the same page. So whenever you’re ready, you can stop dawdling, get to the cabin, and save the world.

I told her I would get her out of that cabin. As far as I’m concerned, that promise is unfulfilled. We’re rescuing her, again.

The Narrator: Ugh… a warning, then, before you go any further. She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don’t believe a word she says.

Voice of the Opportunist: Don’t worry. I think we’ve taken that lesson to heart at this point. You can trust us to get the job done.

The Narrator: The interior of the cabin is a mess of twisted roots, the walls a chaotic weave of knotted wood that, almost as if by accident, just happened to resemble a room. The floor is damp and earthy, and the only furniture of note is a slab of mud in the shape of a shelf, with a pristine blade perched on its edge. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

I won’t.

The Narrator: I can tell you’re very determined… alright. Don’t take it to slay her. Take it because, if she did kill you last time, she will be able to kill you again. It's self-defense.

Voice of the Opportunist: Yeah, and if she’s nice then we just don’t use it.

But then He can just take control… no, you won’t be able to now that I’m aware of that trick. Fine, I’ll take the blade, but I won’t use it unless I have to.

The Narrator: You pick up the pristine blade and walk to… why are you walking to the wall?

There’s a mirror here…

The Narrator: There isn’t a mirror? There’s the muddy shelf, the blade you hold, and the door to the basement. There’s nothing else in here.

Voice of the Hero: There is definitely a mirror.

Voice of the Opportunist: But he says there isn't one. That’s got to count for something, right?

The Narrator: You walk up to the wall next to the basement door. It’s a wall. There isn’t much to see here.

Voice of the Hero: This really isn’t funny.

Looks dusty, I’ll need to wipe it.

The Narrator: You reach forward and rub your hand against the cabin wall. I hope you know how ridiculous you look right now.

Voice of the Opportunist: Well at least we can all agree now that there’s nothing to see here. Case closed. Good work everyone.

The Narrator: The door to the basement creaks open as you pull it, revealing a staircase dug into the muddy earth below. The ceiling is thick with roots that hang like locks of tangled hair. The weak starlight from the cabin windows behind you can barely penetrate the gloom here, only illuminating the edges of an opening below. It shines in the darkness like some kind of massive maw, waiting to swallow you up into the earth. The air smells of dirt and copper. It’s thick and wet, as if your lungs are being coated in mud with each intake of breath. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor. Her voice skitters up from below.

“Something nasty finds itself on my stairs. Come on down, don’t be scared. I probably won’t bite.”

”Hello again...”

“I recognize that voice as easily as I recognized your nervous little footsteps coming up the path. I know who you are, and I remember what you’ve done.”

Voice of the Hero: See? She knows us. Is this enough for you to believe what we’ve been saying?

The Narrator: Maybe, but you shouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. She’s just a Princess. As long as you remember that and stay focused, slaying her will be easy.

Voice of the Opportunist: She seems friendly enough. Maybe we can talk our way out of this whole situation.

The Narrator: Sigh… you can’t. Unless you slay her right away, she’s going to break free and end the world. There’s no reasoning with what she is.

Voice of the Opportunist: Look, I’m just throwing ideas out there. I like to think out loud. I’m the kind of guy who likes a discussion, don’t we want to hear what everyone has to say before making any big decisions?

Voice of the Hero: Do you want to hear what everyone has to say, or do you just want to her yourself talk?

The Narrator: You need to stop lingering! Your task is to slay the Princess, not endlessly debate about what to do with the Princess.

Voice of the Opportunist: Fine, fine. You’re the boss.

The Narrator: You descend the basement steps, entering the dark room below. You can just make out the shape of the Princess in the gloom. She’s huddled like a cat, against the far wall. Her eyes are bright and glare from amid the thick roots.

Voice of the Hero: Wait, is that a tail? And… claws on her feet?

She looks like a… what is it called… a cat girl.

“And there you are, one hand tucked away behind your back, gripping that sharp, sharp blade, no doubt.”

Voice of the Opportunist: That’s not fair, how would she know that?

Inference and deduction.

“So we’ve dropped the pretenses. Good.”

The Narrator: She’s acting like she already knows you… I guess what you said back in the woods really was true.

Voice of the Opportunist: That’s pretty sharp! How’d you figure that one out?

The Narrator: Also deduction.

A powerful tool, really.

Voice of the Hero: So… you really don’t remember us, do you?

The Narrator: No, I don’t. But you and the Princess clearly have a shared reality, even if I’m not a part of it. I won’t waste time fighting you on something that’s clearly true.

Voice of the Hero: You fought us on it back in the woods.

The Narrator: That was when the only perspectives we had were yours and mine.

Voice of the Opportunist: I’m just glad we could put all this behind us!

Voice of the Hero: Is it all behind us though?

The Narrator: Just focus on the task at hand. I don’t care if you’ve been here before, and I don’t care if you think you’ll go somewhere else after this. My world is on the line right now. So I’d appreciate it if you would take this seriously, and slay her.

Voice of the Opportunist: Let’s chat her up a bit first. Maybe we can find a middle ground where everyone’s happy.

The Narrator: Don’t talk to her. You’re just going to make things more difficult than they have to be.

“Well? I seem to remember you having a tongue.”

”I am… sorry, about last time.”

Voice of the Opportunist: Oooh, smart. Let’s apologize. Get us back on the right foot.

“Oh, you’re sorry! Isn’t that nice! You’re such a gracious little monster. If you’re sorry, then let me out of here. Prove it.”

”And don’t worry, the blade isn’t for you. Well, not for killing you. We’ve got to get you out of those chains somehow, right?’

“Oh, I don’t need you to cut me out.”

The Narrator: The Princess grins as the chains fall from her wrist.

Voice of the Hero: She could have gotten out of those the whole time! That sneaky little-

Voice of the Opportunist: A woman after my own heart, really. She knows how to hold her cards close to her chest.

The Narrator: This is why she can’t just be abandoned here. If left to her own devices, she’ll find a way out. Now stop her!

”Wait, if you could get off the chains… you could’ve left the cabin. The door to the basement and outside isn’t locked.”

“The cabin lets prying little beasts like you come as you please, but it insists I stay where I am. That binding I shed is just a symbol of the crueler magic at work in this place. If I’m to leave, I’m to leave with you, and you alone.”

”I never wanted to hurt you, but clearly there’s some broken trust. Take this, so you can at least trust I won’t hurt you again.”

The Narrator: Wha- no. You, you can’t be serious.

Voice of the Opportunist: Now hold on, we should put this to a vote! That blade is one of our most valuable assets. We can’t just give it to her! What if she uses it to kill us? I vote no.

The Narrator: As do I.

Voice of the Hero: I… uh… abstain?

Voice of the Opportunist: You abstain?! She’s going to kill us if we give it to her!

When did any of you get the idea this was a democracy. You’re all… voices in my head. I’m the one who makes the decisions and moves my body!

The Narrator: You’re going to get everyone killed! You know that, right?! …but of course you do. You toss the blade at the Princess’ feet. She eyes it with suspicion before kneeling down to pick it up.

“I wouldn’t have done that. Why did you?”

The Narrator: She creeps forward, taking one cautious step at a time, until you and she are face to face.

“What do you think happens now?"

”Now? You choose. If we don’t change, we’ll end up killing each other forever. Always scared and hurting. We need to be better than that.”

The Narrator: Her shoulders tense and her eyes dart away.

“This is another trick. You’re trying to sow doubt. But it’s not going to work on me!"

The Narrator: And then she buries the blade in your heart.

“Gah!”

Voice of the Hero: What?! No, no, come on that’s not right!

Voice of the Opportunist: I told you! I told you this is what she was going to do.

The Narrator: Glee dances across her face as you fall to the ground.

“Nyahahaha! I did it! I got you! You… you…”

The Narrator: The Princess seems to tremble, her smile fading quickly, replaced with concern. Her nervous eyes brim with tears.

“Why? Why did you let me do this?!”

The Narrator: But you don’t have the strength to respond. Nor do you have the time. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III: THE THORN

The Narrator:You’re on a path in the woods-

Voice of the Hero: I can’t believe she actually stabbed us!

Voice of the Opportunist: I told you not to give her the blade. I told you it would come around to bite us. I voted against it.

Voice of the Hero: Yeah, we know. You already got your ‘I-told-you-sos’ in while we were bleeding out.

Voice of the Opportunist: I just wanted to make sure that everyone here knows that I was and am on the right side of that argument.

Voice of the Smitten: Oh, you’re far from being on the right side of anything. You’re fixated on the past, whereas what you should be is fixated on the future.

Argh! Dammit, my head is only so large… quit talking, all of you!

The Narrator: I’m going to… ignore what just happened for a second and answer you. You need me to talk. You need direction.

Voice of the Hero: As much as I understand how frustrating this must be for you, I can’t just stay back and watch.

Voice of the Opportunist: You didn’t listen to me, and you died. I’m only helping you survive!

Voice of the Smitten: Nothing can possibly make me stop speaking of my love for her.

Okay, okay, okay…!

The Narrator: What the… one of your eyebrows raise. An idea forms. And that idea is-

Voice of the Self: Me.

The Narrator: No, that’s not possible. You can’t just make more voices.

Voice of the Self: A voice? No, I’m not a- a… what am I?

You’re me and I’m you, I think. I need someone strictly allied on my side. Now, give me a minute because all that chatter gave me a splitting headache.

Voice of the Self: Anyone got any ideas as to how things are now?

Voice of the Smitten: Definitely, my dear fellow. By cruelly turning on the Princess in her moment of vulnerability, we made ourselves an enemy. But by mastering our fear and insecurity, and handing over our power, we’ve begun a journey to something so much deeper.

Voice of the Opportunist: I like journeys. Traveling is a bit of a passion of mine. It makes me so relatable. Now where are we off to?

Voice of the Smitten: If we’re lucky, it’s a journey… to love.

Voice of the Hero: Unlikely. She hates us.

Voice of the Smitten: Does she? She hesitated before stabbing us to death.

Voice of the Hero: Hmm… perhaps she won’t be as keen to betray us this time. We’ve already proven to her that we can change. So maybe we’ll realize that things don’t have to end in violence.

Voice of the Opportunist: You know, maybe you’re right! In which case, I suppose the only thing to do is to get back to the cabin and give it another try.

The Narrator: Give what another try, exactly? Actually, don’t answer that. I can already tell you’ve died at least once-

Voice of the Hero: Twice, actually.

The Narrator: Sure. Twice. Then I’ll spare you the introduction I had planned. You already know about the Princess, and clearly you already know that she’s dangerous. So don’t muck this up. It’s bad enough this isn’t your first time through.

Have you guys noticed how this whole place is changing? The first time the path was in a normal forest. Second time it was so full of trees and foliage. And now… the few trees there are have no leaves.

The Narrator: Wonderful. If the woods themselves are changing, then that’s all the more reason for you to take this seriously. It would mean your grip on things is slipping, which in turn, likely means her influence is spreading.

Voice of the Opportunist: “Ooh, interesting!”

The Narrator: I’ve already said too much. The more information you have, the more difficult your task will be. Don’t listen to her, definitely don’t free her, and if you can, don’t even think about her.

Voice of the Self: Hiding information for our own sake? I stand by that more information lets you make the wiser choices. Spill it.

The Narrator: No. I won’t say anymore on the subject.

I still promised to free her. This time, I’ll fulfill it. I know it.

The Narrator: Please don’t.

Voice of the Smitten: You can’t stop all of us, you villian!

Voice of the Opportunist: Let’s just see how the wind blows. I’m not opposed to saving her, but let’s not rule anything out just yet. Let’s see what she has to say.

Voice of the Hero: Stop sitting on the fence and pick a side already. We don’t need you waffling when things get hairy.

Voice of the Opportunist: I’ve already picked a side! Our side. I’m here to make sure that whatever happens, we wind up on top.

Voice of the Hero: Oh and that’s worked out great so far.

Voice of the Opportunist: Well, we’re not out of the game yet, are we? And again, I’ll have you know I wouldn’t have gotten us killed last time. I wanted to stab her in the back, not hand over our precious back-stabbing implement!

Enough already, let’s go to the cabin.

The Narrator: It isn’t long before you find yourself at the base of the cabin. I think it’s clear where everyone stands at this point. You go in, the interior of the cabin is hardly an interior at all anymore. The burned-out ruins merely suggest the shape of the structure that once stood here, charred wood still reeking of ash, but beneath it lies the fresh smell of spring growth after rain, the promise of new life in the wreckage of the old. The only furniture of note is the crisped shell of what was once a table, and a pirstine- wait, this isn’t right. There’s supposed to be a pristine blade. Why isn’t there a pristine blade?

Voice of the Hero: We gave it to her, last time. She can’t still have it can she?

The Narrator: Well, it’s not here.

Voice of the Opportunist: If she has it…

Voice of the Hero: Let me guess, you want to get all chummy with her?

Voice of the Opportunist: I say, between him and her, we side with the one who has the weapon. It’s just the smart thing to do!

The Narrator: I wouldn’t be so hasty. I’m sure the blade will turn up somewhere. She can’t have it, that’s not how this is supposed to work.

Voice of the Self: How this is supposed to work? You’ve made another slip.

The Narrator: …

Voice of the Smitten: If she does have it, that’s all the more reason to put our faith in her. We’ve already shown her our heart. Now she has to show us hers.

Voice of the Opportunist: Unless her heart tells her to stab us. Which doesn’t seem un likely. So yes, I agree. Let’s make sure we get on her good side!

The Narrator: You step forward and approach the scorched entryway leading to the basement, hesitating before you begin the descent.

Voice of the Smitten: You know what you have to do. Wipe away the grit from the mirror, and behold our handsome features.

Voice of the Hero: It went away when we touched it last time.

The Narrator: You reach forward and wave your hand through the hollow entrance leading to the basement. What are you doing?

Voice of the Smitten: Alas, our fine features remain unseen. We’ll just have to trust that she’ll find us beautiful as we are.

Voice of the Hero: Well, seems like the only way to go is forward, isn’t it?

The Narrator: You step through the frame of scorched wood and make your way into the darkness below. The stairs to the basement are covered in a fine layer of gritty ash. The air still feels warm, as if the fires that ruined this place had only recently been extinguished, yet fresh roots of thorny branches are already weaving themselves through the soot-covered earth of the walls around you.Their spines point courteously down towards the basement, so you’re able to brush past their jagged points with ease. At least on the way down. But you don’t need to think about the way back up just yet. That’s a matter for after the world’s been saved.

Voice of the Smitten: These thorns are an expression of her pain, I know it. She’s calling out for help!

The Narrator: Her voice, worn down by pain and suspicion, hobbles up the stairs.

“I can’t get away from you, can I? You betray me, I kill you, and you come back. You let me kill you, and you come back. I don’t know why you let me do that. I don’t know what you want from me.”

”I want to free you, for real this time.”

“You know how this goes already. I’m down here, and I can’t leave. So come down and talk, it’s not like I can stop you.”

The Narrator: You continue down the basement stairs, brushing past the smooth edges of thorns that grow more and more plentiful as you make your way forward. You step out into what was once a vast, open cavern, now overrun by briars and prickles and thistles, the space think with hostile vegetation. At the heart of it all, encased in a tight weave of vines, is the Princess. Her bloody, trembling hands clutching a… pristine blade?

“Did you know this was going to happen to me? Are you here to watch me suffer? Are you here to laugh?”

”No, just to free you. If you’ll let me.”

“I… I want to trust you…”

The Narrator: Her grip tightens on the blade.

“But you’re hiding something, aren’t you? Why would you help me if you weren’t helping yourself?”

”Do I need to help myself? Uh… I like helping people, so I guess that’s how it helps myself? It makes me feel good. But I can see words meaning nothing now…”

“Not really… how can we trust something as hollow as words?”

”If we can’t trust words, then we’ll have to trust actions.”

The Narrator: You reach towards her bloodied hands, laying your palm on her trembling fingers. For a moment, she clutches the blade even tighter, her knuckles going white with the effort. But then the tension fades. Her grip finally loosens, and she allows you to take the weapon. You carefully pull it free from the thorns, though they scrape at your skin and leave red trickles of fresh blood all along your arms.

Voice of the Smitten: She trusts us. She trusts us! Doesn’t that set your heart aflutter?

Voice of the Hero: …a little? It could just be nerves, being this close to her does bring back unpleasant memories. But I don’t know. It doesn’t feel bad, it feels good. Like we’re special to her.

Voice of the Smitten: We are special to have gained an ounce of trust from a maiden so guarded. Now all that remains is to free her from her bindings.

Voice of the Hero: Yeah, let’s do it! Let’s show her how much both of us have changed.

Voice of the Opportunist: Or, hear me out-

Fuck. Off.

The Narrator: I’d have to agree with him. We can slay her now and put an end to this!

Voice of the Smitten: I see that the lines have been drawn.

Voice of the Hero: It’s three against one!

The Narrator: Three against two, and even then-

Voice of the Hero: You don’t count.

Voice of the Opportunist: Err, and why shouldn’t he?

Voice of the Hero: Because He’s clearly not one of us?

Voice of the Opportunist: That doesn’t matter. He’s been with us the whole time, he should get a say.

“So… did you mean it? Or was I a fool to hand my life to you?”

The Narrator: You take the blade to the thorny vines imprisoning the Princess, and she flinches, relaxing only slightly as the blade slices into the thick vegetation rather than her arm. She flinches again as the last of the vines is cut away, as if after all that she’s still expecting you to turn on her and stab her in the heart. But you’re not going to do that, are you? Still… all it would take is a single slip of the blade…

Voice of the Smitten: Such a pathetic attempt at distraction and subterfuge! Our blade is a dashing sword, and every dashing sword is an extension of its hero. It won’t slip.

Voice of the Opportunist: You’re right. He can’t even make it slip, can he? He’s a bit of a nobody. Good thing I’ve been on your side of all this since the beginning.

The Narrator: The Princess falls into your arms, tears streaking down her cheeks. I can’t believe you’re making me describe this. I hate you.

“You actually meant it. You… rescued me.”

Voice of the Smitten: Do you see the way she’s looking at us? Kiss her! Kiss her now before the moment ends!

Maybe once we’re free, although I wouldn’t be opposed to a brief embrace right now.

The Narrator: You… argh! You gently wrap your arms around the Princess and give her a hug. The ends of her lips form into a smile as she relaxes into your body.

Voice of the Smitten: You fool… you should’ve kissed her while the moment was perfect!

Voice of the Self: Probably best to save it when we get out of her. No premature celebrations.

The Narrator: A minute later, the two of you stand up, hand-in-hand. The two of you rush to the basement stairs. Shamefully, really, that the same thorns that so graciously allowed you downstairs are now blocking your only way out.

Voice of the Smitten: Please, after all the trails we’ve been through do you really think a few measly thorns can stop us? Love is an even more powerful weapon than our blade.

Voice of the Hero: We cut through those other vines just fine. They’re only thorns, and I’m not afraid of getting a few scrapes.

“A few pointy sticks can’t keep us down here. We’re both meant for so much more than this.”

The Narrator: You swing your blade into the thorns covering the basement stairs and they… yield. Both you and the Princess ascend the stairs without obstacle. This is unacceptable! The second you step out of this cabin with her, the world ends. DO YOU HEAR ME? What did the world ever do to you to deserve this?

Voice of the Self: The world did… something...?

The Narrator: You’ll end the world over melancholy!?

Voice of the Self: No, I- I don’t know where that response came from.

Voice of the Hero: Huh? Why did you say it-

“Almost free… just one more door.”

The Narrator: You and the Princess hesitate at the cabin door. This is your last chance.

Voice of the Hero: We’ve already made our decision.

“We’re finally leaving together, aren’t we? And all we had to do was trust each other. It wasn’t easy, but… I’m glad we finally could.”

”Me too. Now, let’s go.”

The Narrator: Hands clasped, the two of you open the door, and step out into a new day. You irredeemable murderers.

I am about to make your day even worse.

The Narrator: Even worse? Worse than this!? How could- no… you… you gently pull her close, looking at her with…

Voice of the Smitten: Say it! Say it!

The Narrator: …love-filled eyes. She looks into your eyes just the same. You- no! Absolutely not!

Voice of the Smitten: Oh, you know we can.

Voice of the Opportunist: And we wouldn’t want to throw away a chance for a special moment, now would we?

The Narrator: If only I were capable of throwing myself off a bridge! Ahem… you lean in and you kiss her.

Voice of the Hero: …and?

The Narrator: And she reciprocates. Enthusiastically. You kiss. It’s done. Are you happy now?

Voice of the Smitten: Oh come on now, this is a big moment! You can do better than that!

The Narrator: FINE! You and the Princess lock eyes and stare deep into each other’s souls with all the roaring emotion that comes from letting what once was hatred turn into pure, unbridled passion.

A beautiful enemies-to-lovers story.

Voice of the Opportunist: Hmpf, it looks like he may like romance after all.

The Narrator: Oh, for sure! If history itself were not about to end, historians would document this. Musicians would write era defining ballads. Great artists would spend entire lifetimes trying to merely capture the spark between you two right now!

Voice of the Hero: He’s making fun of us!

Voice of the Smitten: It doesn’t matter either way because this is good stuff.

The Narrator: The moment doesn’t last forever. She breaks away from your lips.

“That was nice… but why do I feel so cold?

You do not have an opportunity to respond. As your arms desperately cling to keep her here, the hands drag her in. Something has taken her away and left something in her place.

Voice of the Hero: She’s gone. Where did she go? Should we try and find her? And the mirror… why is it here again? Why is it here? Why now?!

I don’t… we need to think about this. At least you guys are still here?

Voice of the Hero: Of course, still here.

Voice of the Smitten: I will not rest until we find our beloved!

Voice of the Opportunist: Happy to be here, boss!

Voice of the Self: Present.

Then… the Narrator is gone?

Voice of the Hero: He is. Does that mean… the world ended?

Voice of the Opportunist: Heh, we’re top of the pecking order now… right boys?

Voice of the Smitten: A villian vanquished.

Okay. Let’s… think about all this…

Voice of the Hero: Think how?

Like that I met you the first time we were at the cabin, meanwhile loverboy didn’t speak until the latest occurrence.

Voice of the Smitten: I may not have spoken, but I assure you I was in your heart this whole time, always calling out to our dear Princess.

I’m going to assume such wasn't a random chance… so our death results in a new voice up here.

Voice of the Hero: That follows what we’ve seen… the Princess changed each time too, didn’t she?

To varying degrees, but yes it was never the same… alright, we at least know that our death will result in a new voice and a new Princess. Information counts, even a little.

Voice of the Opportunist: An advantage I am oh so happy to have.

The mirror… I think I’m supposed to look into it.

Voice of the Hero: There’s something dreadful about it. I- I don’t think you should.

Voice of the Smitten: Yes, I fear we won’t… like what we see. Let’s just sit here and preen for a while? That can’t hurt, right?

Voice of the Opportunist: If- If they think it’s bad, I’m with them!

You take a step towards the mirror.

Voice of the Hero: I’m begging you, don’t do this.

The other mirror didn’t scare you.

Voice of the Hero: It’s different now! It feels… I don’t know… final?

You approach the mirror and gaze in. Silence as you reach to the glass. They’re gone, but the mirror remains. It’s time for you to see what’s in it. You can barely see yourself, only able to make out your sunken eye sockets and a white dot coming from each eye. It’s you. And… you’ve grown.

You are alone in a place that it is empty. It is quiet here. You go to the cabin. She stands atop the hill. You approach to see a legion of hands covering the Princess.

“Something finds me in the Long Quiet and brings me the gift of a fragile vessel.”

You reach for the Princess’ hand. It is cold. You give it a squeeze. For a second, the muscles in her hand squeeze back before going limp.

”What are you?”

“I am solitary lights in an empty city. What are you?”

”I… don’t know.”

“I think that you are like me. We are oceans reduced to shallow creeks.”

”You said I brought you a fragile vessel?”

“Yes. Nerves and fibers to feel the worlds beyond. Perspectives to make my own.  This one yearns for connections she feels she doesn’t deserve. Even when shown compassion, she hid herself away. She will make for a cautious heart. Do not mourn her, she isn’t alone anymore.”

”You… got to let her out of there! I promised her she’d be free!”

“I’m sorry. There are some changes that can never be undone, there are some tears that can never be unshed. This is not a place that can hold a fragment of a concept. The moment she arrived here, she was going to return to me. I promise that it doesn’t hurt.”

”If she makes for a heart… you heart… and she’s a fragment… are you the Princess?”

“She is part of me, and part of me is her.”

”Was it always like that?”

“Yes.”

”You said you know of worlds beyond?”

“I know only that they are.”

”So… what do we do now?”

“Nothing, as we are. But I know that there are worlds beyond us, and that we are meant to reach them. There is no exit, but this vessel is a creature of perception. She can make you forget, if only you believe her to be able to. Bring me more perspectives, so that I may be whole. And perhaps then we will know our freedom.”

”How much would I forget?”

“Everything until we meet again.”

”How many vessels do I need to find?”

“More than you have found, but less than there are to find. I am infinite. The rest will find their own way home.”

“Alright I’m… I’m ready. Make me forget.”

“She asks that I tell you to remember her. You won’t.”

Chapter Text

THE SMITTEN

(LET YOUR PASSION BE YOUR GUIDE)

CHAPTER I: THE HERO AND THE PRINCESS

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: Listen, for a moment.


Huh? Okay, sure?

Voice of the Self: He will attempt to control you. Fight back. You have it in you.

Uh… thanks for the vote of confidence?


Voice of the Self: And don’t forget the Princess of Thorns.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.

Maybe she only wants the world to end because she’s locked up?

The Narrator: While I appreciate the mental exercise, we are running up against a bit of a ticking clock. Nevertheless, let me assure you: the Princess is locked up because she’s dangerous, she is not dangerous because she’s locked up. And before you decide to waste even more of our time by asking how I know that, let me suggest a more pragmatic lens through which to view this situation. Causality doesn’t matter because, no matter what, the world ends if the Princess leaves the cabin. There is no changing that.

You talk way too much…

The Narrator: From how much you were asking I just assumed you wanted to know. If you don’t, get a move on and slay the princess… You make your way up the short path to the cabin. You’ll find the Princess within.

Voice of the Hero: We’re not going through with this, right? She’s a princess. We’re supposed to save princesses, not slay them.

The Narrator: Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You reach the foot of a hill, atop is the cabin. You go inside, to be met with the interior. It is almost entirely bare. The air is stale and musty and the floor and walls are painted in a fine layer of dust. The only furniture of note is a plain wooden table. Perched on that table is a pristine blade. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

I’d rather not.

The Narrator: You open the door to the basement, the creaking of wood rattling the cabin. It reveals a staircase faintly illuminated by an unseen light in the room below. This is an oppressive place. The air feels heavy and damp, a hint of rot filtering from the ancient wood. If the Princess really lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her voice softly carries up the stairs.

“Hello? Is… is someone there?”

Voice of the Hero: It’s hypnotizing… the kind of voice you only have to hear once to remember it the rest of your life.

The Narrator: Don’t let it fool you. It’s all part of the manipulation. You’re playing a dangerous game by coming to her unarmed.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

“You are? It’s been so long since anyone’s come down here. I was starting to think they’d forgotten about me.”

The Narrator: You walk down the stairs and lock eyes with the Princess. There’s a heavy chain around her wrist, binding her to the far wall of the basement.

Voice of the Hero: She’s beautiful. How could someone like this be a threat to anyone?

The Narrator: I am begging you to stay focused. There is a lot riding on you here.

“Hi! Do you think you can get me out of these chains?”

”I don’t know… can we chat a bit? I’ll try thinking in the meantime.”

“Okay.”

”What’s your name?”

“Oh…”

The Narrator: She pauses, carefully formulating her words before she responds.

“You can address me as ‘Your Royal Highness.’ Or you can just call me ‘Princess’ if ‘Your Royal Highness’ is too formal.”

Voice of the Hero: Is ‘Princess’ her name or her title? What if it’s both? Could you imagine being named Princess Princess?

Or John John. Or Smith Smith. But then again, those are surnames that are also the first name. Princess is a title, so she’d have her title also be her name…

The Narrator: It’s not her name then. Another way for her to be in control of the situation.

”You say it’s been a while since someone came down here… have you been eating and drinking?”

“...I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

The Narrator: This is the only time this is going to ever going to happen, but I agree with the Princess. That’s hardly relevant.

Voice of the Hero: Okay but actually, what has she been eating? She has to eat, right?”

The Narrator: Focus!

”I don’t mean to imply anything, but you are locked up and it must be for a reason.”

“Of course there’s a reason! I don’t actually know what that reason is, but you don’t just stuff a princess in a basement and throw away the key without there being some sort of explanation… right?”

The Narrator: You have all the explanation you need. And you should know better than to trust whatever she comes up with.

”Forgive my questions, it’s about time we get you out of those shackles.”

The Narrator: You’re only making this more difficult…

“Thank you, thank you!”

The Narrator: You’re making a huge mistake.

Voice of the Hero: No. You’re doing the right thing.

The Narrator: You walk up to the chains binding the Princess to the wall and give them a tug. They’re large and heavy, far too solid for you to even imagine trying to break them apart.>/span>

“I’m guessing you don’t have the key.”

Voice of the Hero: Maybe it’s somewhere upstairs?

The Narrator: Doubtful. Whoever locked the Princess away down here intended for her to never see the light of day. They wouldn’t have just left the key to her chains somewhere in the cabin.

”I’ll check upstairs, maybe it’s still lying around up there? If not, I can at least find something to break you free.”

“Okay, I’ll be here. Good luck.”

The Narrator: You attempt to make your way out of the basement, but the door at the top of the stairs slams shut. You hear the click of a lock sliding into place.

“Hey, let me out of here!”

The Narrator: Your shouts and pleas are met with silence. I’ll repeat myself once again. You’re here to slay the Princess, and you won’t leave until the task is done

I won’t leave… as in I won’t, or I can’t?

The Narrator: Hardly matters. The door is locked, and there is only the basement to go to. You make your way to the bottom of the stairs. This would have been so much easier if you’d just taken the blade like you were supposed to.

Voice of the Hero: Easier for whom?

For him.

The Narrator: For everyone. Look at the mess you’re in.

“I heard the door slam… they locked you down here too, didn’t they?”

The Narrator: There’s a slight panic rising in the Princess’ voice.

“If I could just get out of these chains I know we could force our way out of here together.”

The Narrator: She barely hesitates before raising her arm to her mouth, her teeth tearing through her limb with the determination of a trapped wolf.

What!?

The Narrator: As she rips her flesh from her bone, a sound comes from behind you. The clang of bouncing metal. It’s the blade from upstairs. You’re not sure how it made its way down here, but if there’s a time to strike, it’s now.

Voice of the Hero: Or we could use it to free her.

The Narrator: You won’t like what happens if you do that.

”What the hell!? Why are you tearing your flesh off like that!?”

The Narrator: Her eyes briefly break from her arm.

“I just need to get out… this is all that came to mind and it’s working.”

Okay… let’s use the blade to release her then. Quicker and cleaner.

The Narrator: Ugh. Fine. Against your better judgment, you pick up the blade and place it against the ragged, self-inflicted wound on the Princess’ arm. Just above the unyielding chain binding her to this place. You cut into her flesh. The blade is sharp, and it takes little effort to crack through the bone of the arm. Her limb falls to the ground, and the heavy chains follow suit.

Voice of the Hero: She didn’t so much as utter a sound through the whole ordeal.

The Narrator: No. She didn’t. She smiles softly as her gaze meets yours, blood from her wounded arm dripping rhythmically to the ground.

Voice of the Hero: How is she still smiling after everything? It’s like she isn’t even bothered by what just happened.

“Thank you, now let’s get out of here.”

The Narrator: No! We won’t have any of that. The stakes are too high. You can’t just let her escape… no, I can’t just let her escape into the world. As the Princess approaches the bottom stair, your body steps forward and raises the blade.

Voice of the Hero: Wait, this isn’t fair. You can’t just do that!

The Narrator: Watch me.

Voice of the Self: Resist Him!

“Wha- What are you doing?”

The Narrator: You don’t attack… stop that. Let it happen.

“Something’s… come over you, hasn’t it? You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

The Narrator: Your body lunges forward, but the Princess dodges before the blade has a chance to connect. Stop it! Stop trying to resist me! I’m trying to get you out of here alive.

Hell. No.

The Narrator: The blade, dammit! Move. The. Blade! …as your body remains frozen in stubborn resistance, the Princess takes a cautious step forward.

“We both know this isn’t you…”

The Narrator: She nervously reaches towards you and takes the blade from your infuriatingly rigid hands… What are you doing ?

“I’m sorry… I’ll try to be quick.”

The Narrator: She plunges it into your chest, tearing through flesh and sinew. It is agony . But you aren’t dead yet.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!”

Voice of the Hero: Stay strong. We can tough it out until it’s done. For her sake.

The Narrator: For her sake? Don’t you start pretending that dying a painful death is some sort of heroic gesture. The two of you have literally doomed everyone. Whatever, she sinks the blade into your chest again, and again, and again… and you feel every inch of burning pain that slices its way into your body.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Voice of the Hero: She doesn’t know how to use a knife, does she?

The Narrator: Apparently not, although it doesn’t matter how sloppy her blade work is, does it? A stab wound is still a stab wound, and it won’t be long before you bleed out.

“I’m so sorry!”

The Narrator: With one last thrust of the knife, you collapse to the floor. Blood pools around you as the Princess stares down at your ruined chest. Tears carve rivulets of pink down her blood-spattered cheeks. She leans down, tears falling onto your face. But it is too late now. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER II: THE DAMSEL

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: It’s constraining. Why is it like this…

What do you mean?

Voice of the Self: I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. We’re on a railroad, forced to choose at each junction. Regardless, we've been forced to stick to the rails.

Is that so? Hmm… feels like it. Felt like I was on autopilot for a while. What do we do?

Voice of the Self: I’m working on it.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

You bastard! You’re in for it now. I’m wise to your tricks!

The Narrator: My… tricks? What on earth are you talking about? We’ve just met for the first time.

Voice of the Hero: If He doesn’t remember what happened, then maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

Voice of the Smitten: Yes, he didn’t approve of us last time, did He? If we’re going to save our beloved, we’ll have to be sneaky about it.

Voice of the Hero: Our beloved?

The Narrator: Yes you’ll have to be very sneaky about your intentions if you’re going to try and save the princess.

Voice of the Smitten: Ah, so all the cards are on the table. Then you should know that we and the Princess are in love and the four of us will be foiling any and all assassination attempts you’ve got in the works.

The Narrator: We’ll see about that. Whatever you do, just be sure to ignore him , specifically. It sounds like he’s the sort who’d sacrifice the whole world for a peck on the cheek.

Voice of the Smitten: What can I say? A world without love is a world that isn’t worth saving.

Everyone here is agreed on saving the Princess… except for you.

The Narrator: Because I am the only one who knows what will happen if she steps out of that cabin. If you don’t believe me now… you will. Now, a warning before you go any further. She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don’t believe a word she says.

Voice of the Smitten: We already told you we’re not playing along with your little game. It’s your lies that can’t be trusted. Her beauty is the only thing in this world we can believe in!

Voice of the Hero: I think we’ve already been over this… he must love the sound of his own voice.

The Narrator: Pay them no mind. Focus on the task ahead. You continue into the cabin, the interior is clean and elegant. The stone walls are draped in fine-threaded tapestries, a prison befitting a royal prisoner. The only furniture of note is an ornate wooden table with a pristine blade perched on its edge.

Voice of the Self: That blade… I don’t like it. Get rid of it.

The Narrator: You walk up to the- what are you- no! You… toss the blade out of the window.

Voice of the Smitten: Now our dear Princess stands no chance of being harmed by you, cretin!

Voice of the Hero: Great idea, but how are we supposed to get her out of the chains?

Voice of the Smitten: Love will be all that is needed.

The Narrator: After throwing away your only chance at saving the world, you open the door to the basement and go down. You walk down an intricate stairwell. Gold-trimmed carpet glimmers in the light of the torches positioned along the walls. The basement almost seems welcoming in the dim firelight. Her voice carries up the stairs.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Voice of the Smitten: Her voice… it’s somehow even more beautiful than last time. I can hear wedding bells already…”

Voice of the Hero: I’ve held my tongue till now, but you’re taking this a little too far. We barely even know the Princess. We can still do right by her without all this over-the-top fawning.

The Narrator: Yes. For everyone’s sake, you’re not in love. Just remember that her charms are all part of the manipulation. You walk down the stairs and lock eyes with the princess. There’s a heavy chain around her wrist, binding her to the far wall.

Voice of the Smitten: My love! We’re here to rescue you from your unjust and foul imprisonment!

Voice of the Hero: Does she look… different?

Yeah, the dress is more royal and she seems more… timid?

“It’s you! My dashing hero. I was so worried you wouldn’t come back.”

Voice of the Smitten: Did you hear that? She said we’re dashing!

Voice of the Hero: And she called us a hero!

The Narrator: Flattery really goes a long way with the two of you, doesn’t it? She was… waiting for you to come back? I didn’t want to believe you, but this is near incontrovertible evidence. You’ve been here before.

Voice of the Smitten: That’s right, villain. And you killed us.

Voice of the Hero: Well… she killed us.

Voice of the Smitten: Only because he made us try and kill her! It was self-defense. Our beloved’s hands remain unstained by cruelty.

The Narrator: So an entire world has been damned to oblivion… but what’s done is done. What matters is you have a chance to do it right this time.

Voice of the Hero: Dammed to oblivion? But we’re here, it's reset.

The Narrator: Nothing resets. You’re just somewhere else, and you can’t keep hopping between worlds forever. The trail of devastation behind you… this is horrible.

“Sorry about last time. There’s this… Narrator, who took over my body and tried to kill you. It was extremely unfair.”

The Narrator: If another version of me was pushed to such drastic action, it was for a good reason!

“That’s okay! You were just doing your best, and that’s all that matters.”

Voice of the Hero: She took that in stride… to a surprising extent… an almost unsettling extent, actually.

Voice of the Smitten: That’s because she’s perfect!

Voice of the Hero: Do you think she has someone like Him telling her what to do?

The Narrator: She doesn’t. There’s no one else like me.

Voice of the Smitten: I think he’s right. I like it better if she doesn’t have some horrid little voice like Him always trying to drive her to violence.

“I got rid of the knife to be safe. I hope this time we can get you out of those chains without cutting them…”

“I’m okay with whatever you can come up with. You can cut my arm off again.”

Voice of the Self: That’s… off.

The Narrator: This is extremely bizarre behavior, and further evidence that she’s a monster who’s not to be trusted. So go ahead and slay her.

Nope, that’s not enough to stop me.

The Narrator: No! Take another step towards her and I’ll-

Voice of the Hero: You’ll what? Take over our body and force us to try and kill her?

The Narrator: I would if you had a weapon.

Voice of the Smitten: Not on my watch, villain! My passions contain titanic depths, and if you try anything that might harm our dearest I will end our life without a second thought.

The Narrator: You wouldn’t.

Voice of the Smitten: I would!

The Narrator: …you approach the Princess and gingerly slide her hand from her bindings. That… shouldn’t have worked. I’ll be damned. We’re doomed.

"I’m free! And you’re not trying to kill me this time! Thank you, thank you so much!”

The Narrator: The Princess jumps up and smothers you in a joyful embrace. Eugh.

Voice of the Smitten: Aww.

The Narrator: She lets go and looks at you.

“What do we do now?”

“What do you want to do?”

The Narrator: I got a guess. End the world?

“I… don’t actually know. Nobody’s ever asked me what I’ve wanted before.”

Voice of the Hero: She doesn’t even know what she wants. Maybe this whole thing is just a misunderstanding? What if she doesn’t want to end the world?

The Narrator: You’re so gullible! Is the only thing you’ve ever doubted the actual truth?

“I think I want to leave? And I think… well, I dunno. What do you want to do?”

"What would you do after we get out of here?

“Make you happy!”

Voice of the Self: What the-

Voice of the Hero: She can’t just want to make us happy.

Voice of the Smitten: It makes sense to me. That’s all I want for her, so of course she’d want the same for us.

"You just met me. You can’t base your entire happiness around me.”

“Okay! If that’s what makes you happy.”

Voice of the Self: Stop this. Something’s going wrong.

Voice of the Hero: Is she… broken? What’s going on?

The Narrator: What’s going on is she’s lying to you, only she isn’t a good liar. Are you starting to trust me now?

“But what would make you happy?”

"I just want to make you happy?”

Voice of the Self: Stop! Backtrack! It’s dangerous to continue this line of questioning!

“Alright… um… let’s just get out of this basement. We can figure out the rest later.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Voice of the Self: Whew, everything’s back to relative normalness.

The Narrator: The Princess takes your hand, the last hopes of the entire world slipping through your fingers as they intertwine with hers.

Voice of the Smitten: We have each other. We don’t need the world for our happy ending.

The Narrator: You and the Princess walk up the stairs, hand in hand. Ugh. Look at the way she’s smiling at you. She doesn’t have to be so happy about this. You walk up the stairs and- oh, isn’t that interesting? The door slams in your faces and locks shut.

Voice of the Hero: That’s a familiar move.

The Narrator: Did I do that last time? Then you know that you wouldn’t be able to leave.

“Oh, no! Did someone lock us in here? That’s not fair! We’re supposed to leave now.”

Voice of the Smitten: She’s right. It isn’t fair. But the unfairnesses of the world are no match for the strength of true love.

“Let’s open it together.”

“Okay! Yeah! Let’s do it!”

The Narrator: Like a pair of teenagers in love, you and the Princess place your hands on the door… together… blegh.

Voice of the Smitten: And…?

The Narrator: …the lock clicks and the door creaks open. Are. You. Kidding. Me.

Voice of the Smitten: I told you our love was insurmountable!

The Narrator: You and the Princess make your out into the cabin… you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Taking the opportunity to make the world end and watch me suffer. I hate you.

Voice of the Hero: Just in case her leaving does end the world… can’t we just stay here? Seems like an easy win for everyone.

The Narrator: Or you could SLAY HER!

Voice of the Smitten: Or you could leave with her. It’s our happy ending!

Hero, you’ve always made decent points. I can always just… suggest it, maybe…

“All we need to be happy is each other, so what if we stayed here and built a life together?”

Voice of the Smitten: Ooh, now I’m liking that… what a romantic scenario! All we need is each other.

Voice of the Hero: That’s what I suggested. Was it… not romantic when I suggested it?

Voice of the Smitten: Did you? I wasn’t listening.

“But… the door’s right there. We can just leave.”

Voice of the Smitten: W-wait. Why would she say that? Was she not wooed by our proclamation of love? Are we not enough for her?

The Narrator: She’s not wooed because staying here and building a life together isn’t a solution. It isn’t anything . It can’t be done.

Well if He says it’s a bad idea then it must be a bad idea… not! I’ll suggest it again.

“Trust me, we can be happy here. Whatever we want, we can have it.”

“But I… I… we would have to be here forever. I don’t… know you…”

She doesn’t want it. We should just leave-

“If it’s really what you want, then… I guess we could do that…”

Nevermind, I can tell you don’t- Hurgh!”

Voice of the Smitten: She can’t be unhappy about staying with us… can she? No! It has to be Him! It has to be this place. If we just made these walls more fitting for a Princess. If we just say the right things… if we showed her the contents of our heart… she’d be happy here.

The Narrator: As the voice thinks its thought, your hands raise, fingers pointing towards your chest, and then… what?! No, you absolutely do not do that!

Voice of the Smitten: Oh, but I do!

What is he doing?

The Narrator: Are you sure you want to know? …I suppose I can’t stall forever. You… plunge your nails into your chest, digging deep, grasping for a handhold. You find it, your fingers curling around your ribs.

“"Oh no, what are you doing? Are you okay? You can’t do that and be okay!”

”Hrgh… AHH!”

Voice of the Hero: Time out! He should NOT be allowed to do that. He is not the decider.

Yeah! I never wanted to do this to myself!

Voice of the Smitten: And yet… it is done, isn’t it?

The Narrator: It will be soon. You yank violently, your bones cracking with wet ops as you pull yourself apart inch by painful inch. Your exposed heart, framed by jagged ribs, thumps rhythmically in your raw, bloodied chest, the loosened… threads… of your body unfurling to cover the surface of the room.

Voice of the Smitten: Don’t mind my sacrifice, it’s a fair price to pay to give her everything she doesn’t know she wants.

No!

Voice of the Smitten: Yes!

“I… I see, you’re trying… to tell me something. It’s beautiful.”

The Narrator: The Princess, mesmerized, reaches towards your beating heart, and then…

Voice of the Hero: Everything goes dark, and we die?

The Narrator: Yes.

CHAPTER III: Happily Ever After

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Damn it! He shouldn’t have… I didn’t want to do that!

Voice of the Self: Yes. We can’t be controlled anymore.

But how…

Voice of the Self: Willpower. Fight it. With every fiber, every cell, every atom within you.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods-

Voice of the Hero: Mate, we’re clearly already in the cabin.

The Narrator: Excuse me? You’re clearly… oh, huh. So you are… how did you know about the cabin? I didn’t get to the cabin part of my opening monologue yet…

You have a planned out monologue… FOR THIS!?

The Narrator: …

Voice of the Hero: Alright, well, we’ve been here before. Not here , though, but you know what’s going on. You knew about the looping last time.

Voice of the Opportunist: Now, now. He’s clearly disorientated. I’m sure-

Shut him up.

Voice of the Self: Agreed.

Voice of the Opportunist: Mppfh!

Voice of the Hero: What- what did you do?

Voice of the Self: Let’s just say he won’t be saying anything unless it’s useful .

The Narrator: Okay, you’ve been here before. That’s… terrible. You know that, right? Because that means you failed in whatever world you came from, meaning you doomed an entire other reality. But I’m sure you already know that, yes?

Yeah.

The Narrator: I am going to describe the room now.  The interior of the cabin is vast and regal. High-arched windows line the walls, their multicolored glass casting kaleidoscopic.

We get it man…

The Narrator: Fine, be like that. Ahem… wait, where’s the blade? That’s not good.

The Narrator: Perhaps it is better that he is not here if he was so chatty. You cross the room, stopping just in front of the door to the basement. The handle is right there. Do you feel fre to give it a push as soon as you’d like.

Voice of the Self: The mirror… always before the door, except for the first times…

The Narrator: There is no mirror. You reach forward and your hand wraps around the handle. Then you push the door open and head… up, into what isn’t a basement at all. They’re draped in a fine carpet, too, that feels pleasantly soft against your feet. If the Princess lives here, slaying her- no, that doesn’t quite work here. I have to say, whatever you did in your previous lives has really thrown me off my rhythm.

Voice of the Hero: Well, if all this has thrown you off your rhythm so much, then maybe we… don’t have to slay the Princess?

Narrator: No, you absolutely do. Just because she lives in a nice house doesn’t mean she doesn’t pose a direct threat to all of reality. It’s in her very nature. Her voice, gentle and warm with an undercurrent of fatigue, rolls down the stairs.

“You’re home… dinner’s ready.”

Narrator: You rapidly ascend the stairs to the top. This hall, like the one below, is grand and beautiful. Four torches illuminate the tapestries along every wall. In the center of the room, a table, with the Princess seated at its far end. Your pristine glints in the torchlight… hanging from the golden chain around the Princess’ neck. So that’s where it is! And it’s already pointed at her heart! All you have to do is push it down a little, and the whole world is saved. That’s easy

“You’re here! Now we can start being happy together. Why don’t you sit down? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Narrator: As the words leave her mouth, the torches flare and a chair swings in from behind knocking your legs out from under you. You’re forcibly seated at the head of the table.

From behind? But the stairs were behind and I didn’t see a chair…

“Isn’t that better? It is better, right?”

”No, I wanted to sit closer… excuse me.”

Narrator: As you attempt to get up, the torches flare, and shadowed hands pin your wrists to the arms of your too-comfortable seat. There will be no getting up. There will be no attempts to slay her. At least, not for now.

”I- I can’t get up. Something’s holding me down.”

Narrator: The Princess smiles nervously.

“Oh, haha. Yeah, don’t worry about it. That’s just how it works here. We don’t have to go anywhere anymore, we have everything we need. He just wants us to be happy.”

Voice of the Self: Behind the Princess there is a tall, ominous shadow.

”Him?”

“He’s the voice that whispers sweet nothings in my ear. I think he made this place for us.”

Voice of the Hero: He’s holding us down…

”Hey! Shadow! Don’t you have anything to say!?”

Narrator: The torches flare and the shadow grows for a moment, but you don’t receive a response.

“He says his words are just for me. But he wants me to ask… isn’t this enough? Isn’t this what you wanted him to do?”

”I… no. I don’t know what I wanted, but it’s not… this…”

“He says he’s tired. I don’t think he’ll answer anything else you have to say. Oh! How about dinner, I totally forgot about it.”

Narrator: The flames burn bright, and a shadow dives across the table. In its wake it leaves a feast.

”Go ahead and dig in. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Voice of the Opportunist: I sure am!

Voice of the Self: Shut it.

Voice of the Hero: But after everything we’ve been through? We could use a break.

”I… when’s the last time I ate… no. This isn’t right. I refuse.”

”Oh… but aren’t you hungry? Agh, sorry, that was snippy. It’s okay, it’s okay. We can figure something else out. Think, think, think. This is fine, this is fine, this is fine… this isn’t fine! This isn’t fine at all!”

Narrator: As the words leave her mouth, one of the torches on the wall sputters, and then goes out entirely.

”What just happened? Did I do something wrong?”

Narrator: As if in response to the dousing of their brother, the other three torches blaze brighter, angrier, across the stone.

”Something wrong? No, that just sounded like what you wanted to say.”

”But it was wrong. I took away a piece of our light. I’m… not supposed to do that. I don’t want him to be upset with me.”

”This place isn’t right. We need to get rid of that shadow.”

”W- Why would we ever do that? We need the light. It’s what keeps us happy… Oh, I know! We should do something! What if we… played a game?”

Narrator: The flames roar, and the shadow comes dancing across the table. It leaves behind an intricate game, its pieces elegant and beautiful and enticing. Its simple rules already apparent even with little explanation.

”No. Forget the torches, the light, keeping us happy. How do you feel?”

”I…I’m not sure. It isn’t happy…”

Narrator: Another flame goes out.

Voice of the Self: He hasn’t noticed, but I have. The shadow is slowly going away. Think about it, a shadow can only exist if there’s light. Get rid of him and his hold over this place.

”It’s not happiness. So, what do you want? That would actually make you happy.”

Narrator: The Princess looks at the table for a second, two seconds, three seconds. Then her head tilts back up to meet your eyes.

”I want to leave.”

Narrator: The third torch sputters out, the shadow behind the Princess dances furiously against the far wall.

”There’s just one left. What’s going to happen when it goes out?”

”It doesn’t matter, everything it has shown us isn’t real. We need to see what happens when the lights go out.”

”We do, don’t we? I want to leave… and I want to discover the world out there.”

Narrator: As the final torch blows out, the Princess sobs with her face buried into her hands. You get up, and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. Neither of you say anything, for a moment.

”Well… we can’t sit here forever. That part of us is over.”

Narrator: She gets up as you take your hand off of her shoulder. You both cross the room and take the stairs back down.

”Do you… still care about me?”

”I think… I always have to some degree.”

”Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. I still care about you, too. So maybe this wasn’t all bad.”

Narrator: As the Princess opens the door to the outside world, you offer her your hand. The corners of her mouth curl into a demure smile, and she gently takes her hand in yours. She’s cold, but her skin is the most real thing you have ever felt.

Voice of the Hero: You’re offering surprisingly little resistance. If we leave the cabin, doesn’t that… end the world?

Narrator: I do enjoy my fairy-tale endings. I’m done fighting. The two of you step out, hand-in-hand, into the world. I think this is the end of me, even if it’s not the end of you. I hope this was worth it. Genuinely, I do.

Voice of the Hero: He’s… really gone, isn’t he?

”The stars are so beautiful.”

A quiet moment passes over. A comfortable quiet.

”Let’s dance.”

She gently pulls you forward, and the two of you fall into graceful step. The only rhythm that guides you is the shared thumping of your hearts, beating in perfect unison. Her face, worn and tired, brightens the faster you move. A soft, sad smile widening and widening until it reflects only genuine affection. You send her out into a wide spin, and your arms stretch to their limits. You share a gaze that feels like it lasts forever.

”Thank you for taking me here, even if it’s a little cold outside.”

You do not have an opportunity to respond. As she leaves your grasp to twirl, the hands drag her in. Memory returns.

Voice of the Hero: She’s gone. Where did she go? Should we try and find her? And the mirror… why is it here again? Why is it here? Why now?!

Voice of the Self: Hold that thought. I’ve figured more out.

Nice, nice. I knew I was thinking in the back of my head during all that… just didn’t know about what.

Voice of the Hero: More? Of what?

The way those voices and princesses occur. It’s directly related to the perception of the other.

Voice of the Hero: I’m going to need you to elaborate.

The last time we rescued her, and then tried to killer her in the last moment. Then we got the Opportunist. That’s probably how she saw it, right? From her point of view, we waited until she trusted us the most and had her guard down before striking. And then she, with almost animalistic tendencies, clawed us to death. Like a cat… and then she was cat-like.

Voice of the Hero: This time we rescued her… she was like a damsel in distress, and she’d see us as a romantic saving her. I think you’re right with how this goes.

Voice of the Self: Still need more data. Always a Princess. Always a blade. Why…

I don’t know, but I think it’s time to look into the mirror. Don’t be scared, we’ve been here before.

Voice of the Hero: But it feels so bad! Like looking into it right now is going to be the end of everything.

I’m sorry, but I will see you on the other side. It’s going to be okay.

Voice of the Hero: Okay… okay, I trust you.

You approach the mirror and gaze into the reflection. Your body is covered in feathers. You can’t make out the distinctions of your face besides the white pupils observed earlier. And… You’ve grown.

You find yourself in The Long Quiet once again. You retrace the steps, the path engrained into the very muscle fibers in your legs. You walk up to the Princess, her being covered by hands.

“Flickering lights in empty cityscapes become pockets of vitality and movement. I am more than I was before. Whenever you are ready, I will wipe your slate clean once again.”

”How much have you changed?”

“Is the child the same as an infant? I am an unbroken pattern, but every vessel gifts fresh perspectives and carves new avenues of expression. I am different, but I am the same.”

”What does it feel like? To change like this?”

“Eyes close in reflection. Perspectives meld together, and the breadth of my experience stretches to new corners. There are contradictions, conflicts in my nature. And there are familiarities that bind everything together. It feels correct. This is what I need to be. This is the only path forward.”

”Can you tell me about… this vessel?”

“This one is a songbird in a cage of gilded shadows. She will make for an honest heart. Do not mourn her. She has finally learned to sing for herself.”

”You’ve been kinder to me than anyone else I’ve met… thank you.”

“Why wouldn’t I be kind to you? You are the only thing I know that isn’t me.”

”I’m ready. To go back.”

“I will long for your return. But it will give me time to reflect on what I am. We will meet again. This vessel… she asks that you remember her. You won’t.”

Voice of the Self: I will.

The shattering of glass. Everything goes dark, and you die.

Chapter Text

THE CONTRARIAN

(I AM GOING TO DO EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY)

CHAPTER I: THE HERO AND THE PRINCESS

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: Listen, for a moment.

Huh? Okay, sure?

Voice of the Self: Just leave. Why are we being forced to do this?

Alright, I’ll keep that in mind…

Voice of the Self: And don’t forget the Princess of Thorns, and the Princess of a Happy Ending.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.

Can’t someone else do this?

The Narrator: Unfortunately, you’re the only one who can pull this off. I don’t make the rules. I wish I did, but I don’t.

…Forget it, I’m not doing it.

The Narrator: Are you serious? No, you have to do it. Seriously? You’re just going to turn around and leave? Do you even know where you’re going.

Back… home? Back home. Wherever… that is…

The Narrator: Fine, I suppose you just quietly continue down the path away from the cabin.

Voice of the Hero: Good. What we’re being asked to do here is wrong. Better to wash our hands of this whole situation than to take part in it.

The Narrator: Ignore that annoying little voice. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. That’s… strange. It looks like this path also leads to the cabin. How convenient! Maybe the world can still be saved after all.

Nah!

The Narrator: You’re really keen on wasting everyone’s time, aren’t you? It’s remarkably selfish. I’ve already outlined the stakes of the situation. If you don’t do your job, everyone does. Forever.

You’re not emotionally blackmailing me into doing this. I’m not a murderer.

The Narrator: Stakes and consequences aren’t emotional blackmail. They’re facts of life, and if you had an ounce of maturity you’d understand that. But fine, you turn around and trek back down the path you came. Oh, would you look at-

You ARE going to take me away from the cabin. Take me HOME!

The Narrator: …as you trudge back into the woods, something strange starts to happen. At first, it’s little flickers out of the corners of your eyes. Glimpses of familiar wooden structures through the leaves. But as you focus on your surroundings, you start to realize that those flickers weren’t just a trick of light. In EVERY direction there is a path and a cabin. Not just a cabin, the cabin. An infinite fractal designed to draw you back to where you need to be.

Voice of the Hero: Wait… what’s going on?

The Narrator: But you’re too stubborn for that , aren’t you? It doesn’t matter how many paths or cabins there are, because you’re just going to do whatever you can to shirk your responsibility. Because you care more about irritating me than you do about the fate of the world. You’ve doomed us all, you know that? Of course you do, otherwise you would’ve saved the world by slaying the Princess. You lose track of just how long you spend aimlessly tromping through the wilderness, but it doesn’t really matter. Eventually, the world ends and everyone dies.

CHAPTER II: THE STRANGER

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.

Why are there… you can’t just place walls on each side of the path to force me to go to the cabin!

The Narrator: What are you talking about? I’m sure those walls have always been there. It makes sense if you think about it. If there weren’t any walls in the woods, someone might have gotten lost. Or, heaven forbid, someone other than you might have stumbled onto the Princess.

Voice of the Hero: If He doesn’t remember what happened, then maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

Voice of the Contrarian: I don’t know. I think it’s more fun if He knows what we’re thinking. He’s like a captive audience. He might have walled off everything but the path to the cabin, but I’m sure there’s plenty of other ways we can ruin his day.

The Narrator: If by ruining my day you mean everyone’s day, then I’m sure there are plenty of ways you can pull that off.

Voice of the Hero: The world really did end last time, didn’t it? We should be careful. For all we know we just got lucky.

The Narrator: The world hasn’t ended yet, and you are never going to slay her with that attitude. Stuff those pathetic little voices to the back of your mind and stay focused on the task ahead.

Fine. Fine. I’m going to the cabin.

The Narrator: A warning, before you go any further. She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don’t believe a word she says.

Voice of the Contrarian: If we’re stuck going in there, maybe we should believe her. Maybe she isn’t a liar.

The Narrator: Ignore him, he’s just being difficult for the sake of it.

Voice of the Hero: Let’s… keep an open mind.

The Narrator: The cabin interior is… wrong, a confusing patchwork of many cabin interiors all project across what’s almost the same space. But it’s all shifted - an inch here, a foot there - such that the seams are never quite visible enough for the place to make any sense. The only furniture of note is a table, devoid of feature, and a pristine blade that lays atop. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Voice of the Contrarian: If He wants us to take it, maybe we should just leave it to collect dust. Or better yet, grab it and throw it out the window! What good is a knife against a world-ending monstrosity anyways?

Voice of the Hero: No, we’re taking the knife. Have you seen this place? We have literally no idea what to expect, and no idea what we’re dealing with.

The Narrator:I’ve already told you, you’re dealing with a Princess. How many times do I have to explain this incredibly simple and straightforward premise?

Voice of the Hero: You can’t just say that when everything here is so wrong!

Voice of the Contrarian: You can’t just shrivel up into a ball and go insane when we see something weird or we’ll miss out on loads of fun. What you’re seeing here is obviously real, just accept it and go with the flow.

Voice of the Hero: Okay. Okay. I’m fine.

The Narrator: You open the door to the basement. It creaks open, revealing a web of branching staircases all built from unidentifiable materials. Nothing here seems to belong as the stairs even seem to go nowhere. The air here is sickening, like a smell of multiple smells blending together. If the Princess lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her voice comes up the stairs.

“Hello? HI. What are you doing here? Are you here to- KILL.”

Voice of the Hero: Mmmmm no. No thank you.

Voice of the Contrarian: Oh, don’t be such a baby!

I hate this.

Voice of the Hero: Me too! This feels like a trap. Like whatever we do, we’re going to die. We don’t even have a weapon!

My bad…

Voice of the Contrarian: Keep in mind, the last time we turned around and now we’re walled in. If we go forward… there’ll be plenty of ways to ruin His day.

The Narrator: You take the left path. It’s cruel to your feet, the impact of each step sending pulsing vibrations up your leg until there’s nothing left in them to feel.

Voice of the Self: Now this is a pain I’m familiar with. Onwards, feet! We stop at no pain!

The Narrator: The air around you grows colder. Then your toes feel like blocks of ice as your breaths puff out clouds of condensed vapor. Then you shudder as you continue down the stairway, losing yourself in the bone-deep chill. Then you… slowly lose yourself the futher you go. Time details and you feel yourself begin to untether. Physical sensations, details, time… it all disappears leaving only the continuous march forward to a destination long forgotten. Consumption. Betrayal. Skepticism. Blind devotion. Rivalry. Submission. Terror. Longing. Pain. Unfamiliarity. At the heart of it all, an emotion that can only be described as-

“Are you just going to stand there?”

Voice of the Hero: What just happened!?

Voice of the Contrarian: I feel… fundamentally different but also… still the same person I was at the top of the stairs?

The Narrator: The Princess, eyes bright but otherwise shrouded in darkness, watches you impatiently from the other side of the basement. Don’t forget why you’re here.

”Sorry, I… didn’t realize I was here.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been watching you stare at me for a long, long time.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. Sometimes I get lost here too.”

The shattering of a world as your vision holds both this reality and another.

Voice of the Contrarian: What!?

Voice of the Hero: I don’t like this. It’s those cabins all over again. Can… can we put her back?

”There’s more of you now…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you trying to get under my skin?”
“There must be something wrong with you. I’m the same as I was a moment ago.”

Another reality joins the fray.

Voice of the Self: I don’t like where this is going.

The Narrator: Neither do I. Which is why you need to slay her now before things get more complicated than they already are!

Yeah! If it can stop this… that’s probably our best shot! Let’s go back upstairs and retrieve it.

The Narrator: That- That can’t be right.

An immense shatter. The fragments of different realities lay by each other.

The Narrator: You take a step forward. Your foot lans, but it lands… different. You experience a firm footfall, a gentle tread, and a confident stride. You can feel yourself… rupture. The room spins, your perception multiplying in a sickening kaleidoscope as your very self is pulled in incomprehensibly many directions.

The Narrator: You find the blade suddenly in your hands. All at once you use it to strike at her bindings as you remain upstairs and slay her and leave her to languish alone. Is this… what the end of the world looks like? What an unbearable mess.

The fragments slide into each other, trying to reform. They do not match, each one from another mirror. Nonetheless, they converge into a new mirror, a horrid one. One Princess is in front of you with multiple bodies and heads.

“What happened to me?”
“What happened to us?”
“What happened to her?”

“Some parts of us are dead, and others don’t fit.”
“There are parts of us that are dead, and the others don’t fit.”
“Some of us are dead, others do not fit.”

“I feel them moving, it feels horrible.”
“We can feel them moving around in the spaces they don’t belong. It’s all so uncomfortable.”
“The twist in the spaces not meant for them, as if something internal is alive and seperate.”

“Did we do this?”
“Did you do this?”
“Did I do this?”

“Can you pull us apart?”
“Can you save us?”
“Can you fix us?”

Voice of the Contrarian: We should help her. I think… we did this.

Voice of the Hero: How… surprisingly sincere.

Voice of the Contrarian: I didn’t think our actions had consequences!

Voice of the Hero: It’s a little late for regret, isn’t it?

“Please!”
“Please?”
“Please…”

”I’ll… do my best.”

The hands appear and drag her in. Memory returns.

Voice of the Hero: She’s gone. Where did she go? Should we try and find her? And is that a… mirror? Why is it here? Why now?!

Voice of the Self: I got more news.

Go on.

Voice of the Self: There’s always a Voice, always a Princess, and always a blade. They must be linked. The Voices and Princess change, but the blade is almost always the same. So the Voices and the Princesses are linked more closely to each other than they are to the blade.

Voice of the Hero: Could the blade be from Him then?

Voice of the Contrarian: He loves that damn thing so much, it might as well be!

Voice of the Self: There’s no way to be sure, but there’s another thing… I am unlike you all, so like the blade I am not as linked. He, too, is less linked… but in an entirely different way.

Voice of the Hero: What do you mean?

Voice of the Self: I remember. Each time. I think in the back while all of you bicker in the front, no offense.

Voice of the Hero: I get what you mean.

Voice of the Self: I don’t have anything else to say, for certain, but everything here is linked in an extremely fundamental way, just some are more linked than others.

I should go back to seeing the… her, I suppose. The ultimate Princess?

Voice of the Contrarian: What are you talking about?

You wouldn’t know. Anyway, she’s made up of hands… all shifting about… Shifty? I’ll ask her.

Voice of the Hero: I take it you’re going to the mirror? I don’t like it but… we trust you.

You approach the mirror and gaze in. Silence as you reach to the glass. They’re gone, but the mirror remains. It’s time for you to see what’s in it. It is only yourself, and you see that your feet are talons digging into the mass underneath. Your hands are a hybrid of a claw and human hand, the nails long and black. And… You’ve withered.

You find yourself in The Long Quiet once again. You retrace the steps, the path engrained into the very muscle fibers in your legs. You walk up to the Princess, her being covered by hands.

“I am a growing chorus of contradiction. A mass of tides ebbing and flowing all at once in more directions that my attention car bears to hold. To look at any one is to shift them all into something new, and to look away is to reshape them yet again.”

“For the record, I am not the biggest fan of… hard-to-interpret messages. I like straight-to-the-point answers.”

“There are no straight answers, only the mysteries that twist and turn to form the fabric of this place.”

“Well… fair enough. Say, can I call you Shifty?”

“Shifty?”

“You’re like a… a bunch of hands, all shifting around the vessels I bring you. So, Shifty.”

“If that is the name you wish to assign me, then I will respond to it for your sake.”

“Is she okay? I broke reality pretty bad…”

“These ones are a contradiction. A winding kaleidoscope of paths unwalked. They are stretched into a shape not unlike me, but is a shape they cannot hold. They will make for a rich and vibrant heart. Do not worry, they feel no more pain and can finally get to know themselves.”

“I do want to go back, but I’m concerned. Everytime I go back, at least one of us gets hurt, usually by the other. Isn’t it changing us for the worse?”

“It changes us, but it does not make me worse, nor does it make me care for you any less. Do you feel like it’s making you worse? Do you resent me?”

“No, of course not. When I’m with you it kind of… feels like a distant memory?”

“It does seem small from here. And the more we journey, the smaller each of those steps will be. But that doesn’t make any of them less special.”

“Alright, send me back.”

“I will be here, when it is time for us to meet again.”

The shattering of glass. Everything goes dark, and you die.

Chapter Text

THE PARANOID

(CHECK OVER YOUR SHOULDER. ONE DAY IT'LL SAVE YOUR LIFE)

CHAPTER I: THE HERO AND THE PRINCESS

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: Listen, for a moment.

Huh? Okay, sure?

Voice of the Self: We could try… leaving her down there? No one needs to die.

What are you talking about?

Voice of the Self: You’ll see. And don’t forget the Princess of Thorns, the Princess of a Happy Ending, and the Princess of Contradiction.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.

Killing a Princess seems kind of bad, though, doesn’t it?’

The Narrator: Does it? Are you a monarchist? Is slaying a princess that much worse than slaying a fisherman or a miller or a seamstress? If anything, slaying a princess is much better because the rest actually contribute something to society.

I… suppose I see your logic. Thanks for the telling me what to do.

The Narrator: Don’t mention it. It’s all part of the job. You make your way up the short path to the cabin. You’ll find the Princess within.

Voice of the Hero: We’re not going through with this, right? She’s a princess. We’re supposed to save princesses, not slay them.

The Narrator: Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You reach the foot of a hill, atop is the cabin. You go inside, to be met with the interior. It is almost entirely bare. The air is stale and musty and the floor and walls are painted in a fine layer of dust. The only furniture of note is a plain wooden table. Perched on that table is a pristine blade. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Sure, I’ll take it just in case I need it.

The Narrator: You open the door to the basement, the creaking of wood rattling the cabin. It reveals a staircase faintly illuminated by an unseen light in the room below. This is an oppressive place. The air feels heavy and damp, a hint of rot filtering from the ancient wood. If the Princess really lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her voice carries up the stairs.

“Who’s there?”

Voice of the Hero: She sounds… dangerous… it’s almost as if she’s the one in charge down here.

The Narrator: Don’t let it fool you. It’s all part of the manipulation.

”I think I’m here to kill you?”

“Ohohoho! Are you know? Why don’t you come down and let me take a look at you.”

The Narrator: Great job! You gave away the element of surprise. Good luck, hero. You walk down the stairs and lock eyes with the Princess. There’s a heavy chain around her wrist, binding her to the far wall of the basement.

Voice of the Hero: She’s so coldly beautiful… is she really a threat to the world?

The Narrator: Focus on the task at hand.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were here to kill me.”

”Honestly, I’m still undecided.”

“How about you drop the knife and the two of us just talk?”

”That’s fair.”

The Narrator: Sigh. The blade tumbles out of your trembling hands and drops to the floor with an unceremonious clang.

“Thank you.”

The Narrator: Against your judgment, you step forward to speak with the Princess face-to-face, unarmed.

“So here we are. What an awkward start to a relationship.”

”Yeah, I don’t know what got into me.”

“Why are you here to kill me?”

”I was told you’re going to end the world.”

The Narrator: Don’t just tell her that!

“Hahaha! Is that why they threw me down here? But I don’t want to hurt anyone. I like the world! I think. I don’t remember much about it, to be honest. I’ve been down here a long time.”

Voice of the Hero: Just how long has she been down here?

“If I’m supposed to be capable of ending the world, then how did I wind up here, chained to a wall? Have they told you why I’m allegedly so… dangerous?”

”That’s… what are you going to do if I let you out of here?”

“I don’t think I can answer that question in a way you’d find meaningful. At the end of the day, whatever the two of us have going on down here is about trust. Whoever sent you to slay me claimed I was a threat to the world, but they didn’t tell you why. That… doesn’t sound right to me, and I don’t think it sounds right to you either. Otherwise we’d be killing each other instead of talking. So I could tell you a number of good thingS I’d do, that I’m sure you want to hear, but you don’t really know me. What could my word possibly be worth in a situation like this?”

”You’re right… and I don’t trust you enough. Not right now. But I don’t want to kill you. I’m going to keep you down here, at least for a bit, until we get to know each other better.”

Voice of the Hero: That seems like a pretty good compromise.

The Narrator: Leaving her alive is too risky! She will find a way out.

“One way or another, I’m going to find a way out of here. You can make it easier for both of us if you help. And if you don’t… I can promise that you’ll come to REGRET that decision.”

”No! See you later!”

The Narrator: Your legs trembling, you dash for the stairs.

“You’re making a mistake. It won’t be long before I slip these chains. And once I’m out of here, there will be hell to pay for leaving me behind.”

Voice of the Hero: Slipping the chains? That can’t be, she needed our help to get out of here. But the conviction in her voice… I don’t think she’s bluffing.

The Narrator: Either way, she dropped her mask. You can still turn around and finish the job.

No! I am not going back down!

The Narrator: You’ll be the death of us. You get to the top, close the door with a lock, and move the table to barricade it. You settle against the far wall to watch the basement door. It isn’t long before you start to drip off, your eyelids heavy with fatigue, but sleep doesn’t come as a piercing, wailing voice calls out to you from the other side of the door.

“I know you’re still there. Why don’t you make things easier and let me out, before I break out?

”No, I won’t. Please, go away.”

“This little door won’t hold long. It’s probably a good idea to try and get back on my good side.”

Voice of the Hero: She sounds… terrifying. Like she’s less of the Princess you saw and more like something out of a nightmare.

”I thought this was better than killing you! I didn’t- I didn’t want to hurt you!”

The Narrator: She violently rattles the door.”

“And leaving me to rot was better? Once I get out of here, I will pick you apart piece by piece. I won’t forget what you did, and I’ll never forgive it. You don’t KNOW the kind of enemy you’ve made tonight”

”Shit! I’m sorry!”

“It’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?

Voice of the Hero: The door holds… right?

The Narrator: …no, it doesn’t. Your heart rate beats faster as the door begins to splinter. In just a few more breaks, it falls. Her ghastly form twitches as she stands at the doorway.

“Thanks so much for getting me out of that awful basement.”

The Narrator: Your feet begin to scramble to move away, but as she nears it’s as though your body stops working.

“So helpless. I can take my time with you, can’t I?”

"NO!”

The Narrator: She takes a step closer, then another. Your organs shut down one by one

“Or maybe I can’t take my time with you. You don’t look well. A little green around the gills. What a shame. If you’d only helped me get out of here. We could have done such wonderful things together.”

The Narrator: Your lungs stop drawing in breath, and you heart freezes in your chest.

Voice of the Self: Why does this feel… so familiar…

Voice of the Hero: This can’t be how it ends, can it?

The Narrator: I’m sorry, but it is. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER II: THE NIGHTMARE

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

She killed me! She’ll kill me again at this rate!

The Narrator: Again ? People don’t die twice. You haven’t even met the Princess, and I hardly think she’d be capable of killing someone as skilled and courageous as yourself.

Voice of the Hero: If He doesn’t remember what happened, then maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

Voice of the Paranoid: Shh! What if He hears us?

The Narrator: That’s a very good question, little voice. What if He does hear you?

Voice of the Paranoid: Shit.

The Narrator: I think you’ll find it difficult to keep any secrets from me. Not that it matters, because this is the first time we’ve met. Still, I’d rather not get off on the wrong foot. We’ve a world to save, after all.

Maybe… maybe I can apologize? Let’s go to the cabin.

The Narrator: A warning, before you go any further. She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don’t believe a word she says.

Voice of the Hero: I don’t think lying and cheating are her thing. She was very direct with us last time once we decided to lock her away.

Voice of the Paranoid: It doesn’t matter. Don’t. Trust. Anyone.

The Narrator: You step into the cabin. The interior is plain, the walls almost featureless. A pristine blade stands between you and the open, inviting basement doorway. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Voice of the Paranoid: Hold on! The door, there was a door here last time. Where has it gone?

Voice of the Hero: It’s just an empty frame…

Voice of the Paranoid: She’s already gotten out, hasn’t she? And she’s ready for us. She’s been waiting. Can’t you feel her eyes on us?

Voice of the Self: Calm down. We’re fine for now.

The Narrator: Yes. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your task awaits, and only you can do it. You pick the blade up off the floor. It would be difficult to slay the Princess and save the world without a weapon.

Voice of the Hero: Is it going to be enough, though? Couldn’t we have, I don’t know, a bomb? A bomb is better than a knife.

The Narrator: There is nothing other than the blade. It is sufficient for the task at hand as long as you don’t lose faith in yourself.

Voice of the Paranoid: You’re sending us to our death…

The Narrator: You cross the doorway, and walk down a series of plank steps suspended in darkness.

Voice of the Paranoid: You’re not mentioning the eyes!

The Narrator: The air seeping up from below reminds you of fresh lightning and static, as if you’re descending into a place that isn’t meant for a creature of flesh and blood. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor. Her cruel and playful voice prances up the stairs.

“I didn’t think you’d come back. We’re going to have a lot of fun, you and I.”

“I’m going to straight-up admit, I seriously fucked up. Can’t we figure something out?”

“I said I’d always remember, and that I would NEVER forgive you.”

Voice of the Hero: Okay, we need a game plan. Last time we were here, just being close to her was enough to kill us.

The Narrator: You reluctantly make your way to the bottom of the stairs. As you emerge, you find yourself between two rows of the occasional wooden plank. A smattering of cobblestones, visible against- are you alright? You’re breathing quite heavily.

I feel- I feel like I’m dying.

Voice of the Paranoid: She could be anywhere! And there’s nowhere for us to hide, we’re completely exposed! We’re going to die down here! I don’t want to die again!

Voice of the Self: It was the worst the first time! Never again!

The Narrator: Get a hold of yourselves, everyone! Just pick a direction and start moving.

“I wouldn’t give it too much thought, if I were you. It doesn’t really matter, because either way… ~I’m going to find you~”

Ack!

The Narrator: Your legs lock. Your lungs tighten. You become immobilized. Dammit, get a hold of yourself!

“I- I- I-”

“There you are! I told you I was going to find you.”

The Narrator: The Princess appears, a cracked white mask covering her face. As she approaches, your legs suddenly go numb. Your arms quickly follow.

Voice of the Hero: This is it, isn’t it?

“And you brought your little knife with you again. CUTE.”

Voice of the Paranoid: There has to be a way out of this. Think. Think!

Voice of the Self: I’m thinking as hard as I can!

The Narrator: She isn’t supposed to be like this!

“I wonder how many times I’ll get to play with you before you BREAK.”

The Narrator: Your vision cuts out as your blood begins to coagulate. It’s as if every part of your being is coming to a lurching halt.

Voice of the Paranoid: Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.

The Narrator: Your lungs pull in a desperate gulp of air as your eyes shoot back open.

Voice of the Hero: What are you doing?

Voice of the Paranoid: I’m working! Do you want this body to work, or do you want it to-

The Narrator: And then experience stops once more as your body reapproaches death.

Voice of the Hero: Whatever you were doing, please just start doing it again.

Voice of the Paranoid: Are you sure? Is that what you want? Or do you want to INTERRUPT ME some more?

Voice of the Hero: Yes, I’m sure!

Voice of the Paranoid: Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.

The Narrator: Again, your eyes shoot open as you gasp for breath.

“Can’t decide what you want to do, can you? Oh well, standing there gasping like a fish is more fun than dead, even if you look ridiculous.”

Voice of the Self: This isn’t enough. We can’t even speak… I think I know what to do.

Voice of the Paranoid: Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.

Voice of the Self: Brain, Intestines, Vessels, Nephrons.

"Please, stop. It hurts!”

“But it’s so fun to watch you squirm… and if I get closer…”

The Narrator: She raises one long gloved finger, its tip hovering just over your skin… and then she pokes you. The outer world stops.

Voice of the Paranoid: HEART! LUNGS!. LIVER! NERVES!

Voice of the Self: HERO YOU HAVE TO HELP!

Voice of the Hero: What do I do!?

Voice of the Self: Focus on the senses!

Voice of the Paranoid: Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.

Voice of the Self: Brain, Intestines, Vessels, Nephrons.

Voice of the Hero: Eyes. Mouth. Ears. Nose.

The Narrator: Your body begins to fall back under your command. You stand straight, eyes staring daggers into the monstrous Princess. She moves back a little, trying to hide her surprise.

”I don’t get it. It feels too familiar. Etched into my being…”

“Death? Of course, you died last time. Like a COWARD, too.”

”How could I expect a Princess to turn into… what you are now!?”

“You couldn’t, but you could’ve at least had a backbone about it.”

”You know what? I still don’t want to kill you. But I clearly can’t let you free now or you’ll destroy the world. We’ll be here together. Do your worst.”

The Narrator: Are you serious!? Sigh… you fling the blade into the void, denying yourself the opportunity to ever slay her and finish your mission. In an instant, she appears in front of you.

“You poor, deluded thing. Do you think a single moment of bravery-”

The Narrator: Instinctually, from the sudden disturbance of the space in front of you as she approaches, you swing at her. It connects at her jaw, cracking the mask.

“Oh? Don’t like the mask? I’ll show you what’s beneath…”

The Narrator: She raises her hand to the mask and removes it. You don’t get the chance to see-

Voice of the Self: I saw it… there was nothing. A pair of eyes. A mouth. Nothing else but blackness. Do you hear that? I can hear her music…

The Narrator: Like a creeping mold, the complete reality of your existence threads its way through your mind. Birth, death, birth again. Decay and bloom. A million stitches from a million microscopic wounds you’ve inflicted on everyone you've ever met with every muscle you’ve moved and every word you’ve ever spoken.

Voice of the Hero: No no no!

Voice of the Self: This wasn’t… no!

"Let me out.”

The Narrator: Your existence hurts them. 

Voice of the Self: THE MUSIC IS GETTING CLOSER !

“Let me out!”

The Narrator: A lonely soul in a room by itself weeping. It lives for eighty years and then it’s gone. And then it’s there again.

“Let! Me! Out!”

The Narrator: A reprieve. A good life. Love, children, a steady career. Recognition from your peers. Here one moment, give the next. The worms have found their orifices.

“LET ME OUT!”

The Narrator: It forgets everything it is. Anger. Rage. Distance. Poverty. The lonely soul is lonely again. Love turns to mockery. It dies. It is reborn. Worse. Lonelier.

"LET! ME! OUT!”

“AAAHHHHH!”

The Narrator: This is… all too much. I.. .can’t keep… going…

Voice of the Paranoid: You can’t keep going? What are you talking about?

He does not respond.

“Oops, I think I broke you. I’ll see you soon! You’ll know what to do.”

Your body is dead, but you live on.

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER  IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER  IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER  IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER  IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER  IV

CHAPTER ???: THE MOMENT OF CLARITY

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the-

Voice of the Paranoid: Shit! Shit! What- what the hell was that?! Who are we? What are we doing?!

Voice of the Broken: There was a Princess, I think. It’s all so fuzzy. It hurts when I try to remember.

The Narrator: You shouldn’t know about the Princess. At least not until I- You’ve already been here, haven’t you?

Voice of the Hero: I guess? It feels so long ago. Almost like we’ve never left.

Voice of the Broken: We have to let her out.

The Narrator: No! That’s the opposite of what you’re here to do. You have to slay her.

Voice of the Paranoid: Slay… we decided not to do that, didn’t we?

Voice of the Opportunist: Yeah, we’re supposed to let her out. It’s really the only way this works out for us. She’s the one with power here. Nobody else can do much of anything.

Voice of the Stubborn: No, we were supposed to keep her trapped there forever… I think.

Voice of the Cold: We’re supposed to be unfeeling. How many times do I have to tell you to snuff out your heart?

Voice of the Hunted. We can’t be unfeeling. Not when there’s so much fear everywhere.

Voice of the Contrarian: There’s nothing for us to do. We’ve tried everything.

Voice of the Smitten: We love her. So we have to set her free.

Voice of the Skeptic: Can we love something that hates us? Can we love something that hurts us?

Voice of the Smitten: To be given an ounce of kindness from something so cruel would be more pure than any other love.

Voice of the Cheated: Why are there so many of us? There aren’t supposed to be so many of us.

The Narrator: This is bad. You need to get a grip. What did you let happen? How many times have you been here?

Who cares!? The cabin, going to the cabin always moves things forward! Let’s just go!

The Narrator: You run as fast as you can through the umbral forest, bumping against unseen trees as you grasp through the darkness for a way forward. But eventually, you do make it to the cabin, or rather, you make it to the place a cabin should have been. Instead, all you find is an empty hill.

Voice of the Hero: Don’t ask him about the mirror.

Voice of the Skeptic: He always says he never sees it.

Voice of the Paranoid: He always lies.

Voice of the Cheated: And he always makes it go.

The Narrator: Stay focused, there is no mirror. You walk up the hill and see the blade in the ground. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you’re going to do this right.

Voice of the Cold: Take it. It’s the only way forward.

TAKE THE BLADE.
IT’S THE ONLY WAY FORWARD.

YOU’VE ALREADY TRIED EVERYTHING ELSE.

DON’T YOU REMEMBER?
YOU HAVE TO TAKE THE BLADE.

The Narrator: You reach down to take the blade, but as you do, the ground beneath it shifts, the weapon sinking deep into the earth. You lean over the hole and gaze into the abyss. It is so very deep. Deep in the bowels of the earth, you see a mask stare back at you… it fills you with dread.

Voice of the Hero: It’s her.

Voice of the Paranoid: She’s watching us. She never stops watching us.

“When I said you were a coward…”

The Narrator: With every word she speaks, the Princess in the pit blinks closer.

“I was joking when I said that, way back when. You know that, right?”

The Narrator: And closer.

“I was having some fun! And I guess I wanted to see if I could melt you.”

The Narrator: And closer!

“Watching over me forever? That was so brave!”

The Narrator: AND CLOSER!

“But forever is so, so long. And time erodes everything, Except for me! I’ve already taken your will and you’re not getting it back. All that’s left is for you to take my hand, and let. Me. Out. It’ll be so much fun! You and me, together, exploring the world and spreading fear wherever we go! Well, mostly just me. But you’ll get to be there too! A witness. I can even make you a little cage if you want! Gilded and everything! Now, don’t resist. I’ve already molded you into what I need.”

The Narrator: Do anything that isn’t taking her hand!

YOU’RE JUST AN OBJECT.
A TOOL.

YOU WERE ONCE SOMETHING ELSE, A LONG TIME AGO.

BUT THAT IS JUST A DULL AND JADED MEMORY.
THERE IS NO OTHER ENDING-

Voice of the Self: There damn well is. She may have taken your will, but not mine. I got a plan.

What plan!? I don’t have a blade!

Voice of the Self: Punch her. Jump on her and don’t stop punching until you win.

The Narrator: You jump into the pit, landing on the Princess as your fist collides into her face. The mask cracks more. As you both fall, the punches continue - the mask begins to break. She rips at your back, her hands digging into your body. Before they can reach your heart, the final deafening crack as the mask shatters.

“You were just…  a tool…”

”I’m no one’s tool!”

“...why do I feel so cold?”

The hands appear and collect the pieces before dragging her in. Memory returns.

Voice of the Hero: You… did it…

Voice of the Skeptic: I can finally think again, almost.

Voice of the Hero: The mirror’s back…

Voice of the Contrarian: What does that mean for us?

Voice of the Cheated: I’m sure it’ll be whisked away just like her.

Voice of the Hunted: Maybe it won’t be gone. Things are different now, aren’t they?

Voice of the Paranoid: It doesn’t seem like there’s much else to do here.

Voice of the Stubborn: Finally. We can smash it.

Voice of the Cold: Oh will you stop with the smashing?

Voice of the Smitten: What do we say, boys? One last vain attempt to look at ourselves?

Voice of the Hero: Yeah. I think I’d like that.

Voice of the Opportunist: It seems we’ve got a majority. All that’s left is to give it a look.

You approach the mirror and gaze in. Silence as you reach to the glass. They’re gone, but the mirror remains. It’s time for you to see what’s in it. You look similar, the only noticeable difference being a stab wound in the skin above your sternum. And… you’ve unraveled.

You find yourself in The Long Quiet once again.

Voice of the Self: We need to talk.

How are you here? I thought all the voices left when I came here.

Voice of the Self: I’m not entirely sure yet. But… dying, it felt so familiar…

We’ve died before though?

Voice of the Self: Sure, but those were relatively quick. The world goes dark, and you die, as he says. We don’t usually feel the death… but this time, we felt it coming.

It was awful.

Voice of the Self: I have a theory. There is no evidence for this besides connecting dots, dots that may not even be meant to be connected.

And what would that be?

Voice of the Self: The blade. Your scar. The familiarity of death. You don’t remember anything before being here, neither do I, but surely there was something before. Among those somethings… we got stabbed by a blade and died.

Would that explain it? And how would I even be here now if I died?

Voice of the Self: Just a theory. Now go on to Shifty. I’ll keep quiet.

You retrace the steps, the path engrained into the very muscle fibers in your legs. You walk up to the Princess, her being covered by hands.

"There’s a world beyond the endless walls of The Long Quiet. We’re supposed to be there. Do you know what we’ll find out there?”

“I recall there being trees and stars. I also remember other people… at least, there are supposed to be people.”

“There is a warmth and sadness in me at the thought of people. Fresh tears on a winter’s day. They are not like us. They do not last.”

You fall to the ground, knee firmly planting on the dark something you walk on. A tear wells in your eye before rolling down your cheek.’

“I sense a great sadness within you. What’s wrong?”

“That last one… It was too close to reality. I’m- It’s hard to keep going like this, sometimes.”

“Do not worry. You only need to bring me one more vessel before gravity pulls the other back to me. I will be singular. A final multitude.”

One of her hands wipes away the tear. You get back up.

”This vessel terrified me. What do you think about her?”

“This one is a waiting maw. An inevitable destination where all roads end. She will make for a wise heart. Do not mourn her, she is exactly where she needs to be.”

”I don’t… if this is the last stage before completion, then maybe I’ll just stay here. Forever, if I have to.”

“You have already chosen to walk along this path, and we both know you will see it to completion. But if you need more time, then I will wait with you.”

You sit down and wait. Seconds, minutes, perhaps an hour or more. But you get back up.

“Actually, maybe… can you prevent the rest from coming back, at least temporarily?”

“I am unsure, as I have not fully awakened. But why would you want to prolong the inevitable?”

“I want to experience it all. I can sense there’s a lot more things I’d miss. I don’t like missing out on things.”

“Although I can not promise anything, if you wish, I will try.”

“Alright, send me back.”

The shattering of glass. Everything goes dark, and you die.

Chapter Text

THE COLD

(DO NOT FEEL. IT WILL GET IN YOUR WAY)

CHAPTER I: THE HERO AND THE PRINCESS

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: Listen, for a moment.

Huh? Okay, sure?

Voice of the Self: Just do as he says.

No??? If I just follow what people tell me I won’t be… alive. A bag in the wind, that’s what I’d be!

Voice of the Self: Just trust me. We’ve tried many other things already. At least this is new.

Well… if it’s me saying it, then I’m sure it’ll be fine

Voice of the Self: And don’t forget the Princess of Thorns, the Princess of a Happy Ending, the Princess of Contradiction, and the Princess of Clarity.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.

Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me what to do.

The Narrator: Don’t mention it. It’s all part of the job. You make your way up the short to the cabin. You’ll find the Princess within.

Voice of the Hero: We’re not going to go through with this, right? She’s a princess. We’re supposed to save princesses, not slay them.

The Narrator: Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You enter the cabin, the interior almost entirely bare. The air is stale and musty, and the floor and walls are painted in a fine layer of dust. THe only furniture of note is a plain wooden table. Perched on that table is a pristine blade. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Got it, taking the blade then.

The Narrator: You take the blade from the table. It’d be rather difficult to slay the Princess and save the world without it. You open the door to the basement, the staircase illuminated by an unseen light in the room below. This is an oppressive place. The air feels heavy and damp, a hint of rot filtering from the ancient wood. If the Princess really lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her voice carries up the stairs.

“Who’s there?”

Voice of the Hero: She sounds… dangerous… it’s almost as if she’s the one in charge down here.

The Narrator: Don’t let it fool you. It’s all part of the manipulation. You silently continue down the stairs and lock eyes with the Princess once you reach the bottom. There’s a heavy chain around her wrist, binding her to the far wall of the basement.

“There you are. Are you here to kill me or something?”

The Narrator: You step forward, your grip on the blade tightening as you steel your resolve.

“Oh? No talking, then? Fine. What even makes you think you can kill me? I’m probably chained up in this basement for a reason. If that knife is the only weapon you have, you’ll have to get close enough to use it. So, you should just drop the knife. Best not to risk finding out what I can do.”

The Narrator: She’s unarmed. If you hesitate now, it’ll be too late. End this.

Okay, slaying the Princess.

The Narrator: You lunge forward without a moment’s hesitation. You feel flesh easily give way and look down to see your blade already sinking deep into her heart.

“Oh… oh. This is it, isn’t it? I’m almost embarrassed. I should’ve seen that comnnig. But… I have to wonder… do you actually believe this was enough to kill me?”

Voice of the Hero: It’s like she’s convinced she can’t die.

The Narrator: Yes. Even as she lays there dying, she entirely believes herself to be alive and well. But it’s over, isn’t it? She stopped breathing moments ago, that arrogant look still plastered on her face.

Voice of the Hero: But is it over? Really over?

It was… too easy, but she’s clearly not breathing at all. Let’s go.

The Narrator: The job is done. With your work done, you make your way back up the stairs, closing the door to the basement behind you.

Voice of the Hero: Why do I feel like we’ve done something terrible?

The Narrator: You did kill someone. Greater good or not, something would be very wrong with you if you didn’t feel at least a little bad. But it was for the greater good. One of these days, that will sink in and help ease your guilty conscience.

Voice of the Hero: Let’s just get out of here.

The Narrator: You open the cabin door, ready to return to a world saved from certain doom. Only, a world saved from certain doom isn’t what you find. Instead, what you find is nothing at all. The only thing in front of you now is the vast emptiness of some place far away.

Voice of the Hero: What… happened?

The Narrator: Everyone is fine, it’s just that you and the cabin are now far away from them. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe here. This is good. Everyone is happy. You’ll be happy.

I am most definitely not happy! Let me go home!

The Narrator: What’s done is done. This is what’s best for everyone. Trust me.

Voice of the Hero: I may have an idea…

What would that be?

Voice of the Hero: The blade. We can use the blade to get out of this.

The Narrator: I can hear everything you say, little voice. There’s only one thing it would want to use that blade on, and I’m afraid that thing is you , dear hero.

Voice of the Hero: It’s the only way out.

The Narrator: Don’t you dare.

Death is better than an eternity of nothing.

The Narrator: I made this happy little place for you! Is this not a good enough reward for saving the world?! You… you ingrate!

Shut up and tell me how I die.

The Narrator: Fine, whatever. You throw open the basement door and walk down the stairs. The Princess’ body has already begun to rot, but the blade you used to slay her with is still as pristine as when you first held it. You pick up the blade, you stab yourself, and you die. The end. Nice knowing you.

CHAPTER II: THE SPECTRE

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Can you cut the shit? Last time I blindly followed your orders and you trapped me.

The Narrator: I have no clue what you’re talking about. This is the first time we’ve met.

Voice of the Hero: If He doesn’t remember what happened, then maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

Voice of the Cold: That’s fine. It wasn’t very hard to kill her last time. We’ll just do it again.

He is a dick and I’m going to do the opposite of what he wants.

The Narrator: Sigh … a warning, before you go any further. She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don’t believe a word she says.

Voice of the Cold: She won’t be a problem.

The Narrator: The interior of the cabin is cold, a soft odor of dirt permeating the air. Cobwebs flutter in the corners. You can hear wind whistling outside, banging the shutters against the windows. The only furniture of note is an elegant antique table with a pristine blade perched on the edge.

Enough, we’re just going to the basement.

The Narrator: The door to the basement groans as you open it, revealing an old banister and a creaky, wooden stairwell. Everything is coated in a thick layer of dust, and you can feel it settle into your lungs. The very building itself feels dead. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor. The room below is silent.

Voice of the Cold: Nobody’s here. Naturally.

The Narrator: As much as I appreciate the optimism, you shouldn’t be so sure.

Voice of the Hero: I guess we’ll just have to go down and see.

The Narrator: As you descend the final step, the form of the Princess comes into view. A- skeletal body lying in a heap on the floor?

Voice of the Hero: She is definitely dead.

Voice of the Cold: It’s just like a told-

The Narrator: Before you have a chance to finish your thought, the top of a head appears from underneath the floor. Two deep-set eyes stare up at you, followed by a mischievous skeletal grin. And finally, the rest of the body… oh come on, this isn’t right! What’s going on here?

Voice of the Hero: A g-g-g-ghost!

Voice of the Cold: Oh. Wow. How absolutely terrifying. What’s a ghost supposed to do to us?

She’s quite… entrancing, in an ethereal way…

“Oh, it’s you. Hiya, killer. I was hoping to see you again. I have issues with how our last meeting went.”

The Narrator: The Princess drifts across the room into your orbit, gently running her fingers across your shoulders and down your neck as she circles you. The touch of her fingers is real enough to send shivers dancing across your skin.

“Eep! That’s cold!”

“Hehe. It is, isn’t it?”

Voice of the Cold: So she has a body. And she’s right there. We could probably grab her and kill her again, if we wanted to. We don’t even need a blade. She looks fragile enough to me.

“I see you don’t have that annoying knife anymore. So, does that mean you regret what you’ve done? Are you here to apologize and make nice? Beg for absolution, maybe? Because I might be interested in seeing a little begging.”

“Oh, your grace, could you ever forgive me?

“...keep going, I like that.”

I don’t beg. But I won’t lie, either. What I did was messed up and I have to admit that.”

“It is too little, too late. But there is still a way to make things right.”

Voice of the Cold: She’s not in a position to bargain with us. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

“I know what I did was wrong, and I want to make things right. What do you want from me?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted. To go home. But this place won’t let me go, at least, not alone. I’ve tried. Before you came back to me, I explored every inch of this place, even the spaces between the walls. But I never found a way out. I always wound up right back here.”

Voice of the Hero: Maybe we should just leave. If she can’t get out on her own, then we could probably walk out right now and everything would be fine.

Voice of the Self: Walking away from a task you’ve already committed to brings nothing but trouble, believe me…

Voice of the Cold: It’s more interesting to make a choice.

“But you can come and go as you please, can’t you? So… let me hitch a ride. After all, you owe me.”

”Can you please not make a scary face? I’m going to help you, it’s only fair. But I should warn you, I’m not sure if I can leave either. Last time, there was nothing out there…”

“Maybe there will be something this time because it sounds like, last time, you got exactly what you were owed.”

Alright, then. You can possess me.”

The Narrator: The Princess swims through the air in front of you, pausing for a brief moment as her dark-rimmed eyes stare into yours.”

“You’re really trying to make it up to me, aren’t you? Thanks for being a pal, killer. I mean it.”

The Narrator: What are you doing?! Don’t just let her in! How many times do I have to tell you… sigh . She rushes forward, and then… she’s gone. A sharp chill spread across your body. It starts in your chest, a freezing numbness that spreads as your mind grows cloudy and confused. You collapse to the floor.

Come on, you. You’ve gotta get up. I know everything feels… heavy, right now, but we still have to get out of here.

The Narrator: Your body gets back up and your eyes open-

So this is what it’s like to be you, huh? Disembodied voice narrating your every move?

Yes, and it gets tiring.

Voice of the Hero: Wait, it doesn’t work like that for you?

Voice of the Cold: Clearly not, or she wouldn’t have commented on it.

There are shards of broken glass on the floor… are they supposed to be you?

I don’t… know…

Voice of the Hero: Hey! I’m not a shard of broken glass, I’m… a voice? I’m me, is what I am.

Voice of the Cold: Who cares what we are? We exist. That’s all that matters.

You don’t have to fight. We’ll all be out of here soon.

Voice of the Hero: But… if I am a shard of broken class, then that raises some questions about certain other voices in here, too.

Voice of the Cold: I’m clearly the same thing you are.

They’re… not listening to me. Do they not listen to you, either?

No.

Voice of the Hero: I’m mainly talking about Him.  

Voice of the Self: He has been awfully quiet.

The Narrator: You don’t need to know what I am. You just need to know that I’m different from you. More important.

So you’re the one that pulled the strings and made me dead. I can tell you don’t belong here. You’re barely even there, like a… memory, or an echo.

The Narrator: That’s rude.

You’re kind of like me, actually.

Voice of the Self: Wait, am I also a shard of glass?

…One of these shards is covered in blood. Let me take a closer look. Oh! I can feel it… beating? Like a heart. And I hear something echoing within… weird.

Voice of the Self: It certainly is weird. I’m certainly not covered in-

Guys, please. Cut the chatter, it’s starting to hurt.

It’s okay, just take it one step at a time. Everything will be fine.

The Narrator: Your legs, weary with the weight of the Princess’ spectral form and clumsy with the cold that still pervades them, stumble towards the stairs. As you get to the top, the cold hits you, hard-

Are you doing this? Stop that.

The Narrator: No, I am merely describing what is going on. Your lungs clench and you collapse, smaking the table as you hit the floor. The blade falls next to your hand. Your heart beats fast.

What’s going on? The door outside is right there!

It feels like I’m dying! I am dying! You… you’re making me feel like this! Get out of me!

The Narrator: You rapidly grab the blade and aim it at your own heart.

You’re really just going to stab me again?!

GET OUT OF ME!

The Narrator: With a pump of adrenaline, you plunge the blade and pierce the skin above your sternum. You struggle to make it go through, the bone and the Princess trying to stop you.

I don’t want to die! Why are you hurting me again!? I thought I finally understood you!

The Narrator: Your skin roils and bucks as she tries to stop you, but your will holds.

If only I could drag you with me and make you understand!

Voice of the Cold: That would be interesting… being dead…

Get away from me, you cold little freak!

Voice of the Hero: Why do I see her face in the back of our eyes?!

Voice of the Self: This feels horrible! Death, again! Dragged out into near-infinity!

You feel a dull tear, like strips of meat being delicately peeled from bone. But it doesn’t matter how delicate the hands are if you are the meat. You have been stripped away from yourself. Or stripped away from something that used to be you. Or stripped away from something that used to be important. At the very least… you’ve been stripped away.

”We were so close to leaving and now look at you! Look at me! Is this what you wanted!?”

The words come from both inside and outside your head. Your eyes open and you see a writhing mass of flesh and feathers.

Ah… shit… this wasn’t how I meant for things to go down…

Oh, you’re here. I thought I was going to be alone again. Maybe… this is for the best? Maybe if we left together in that body something horrible would have happened to us. Maybe- Maybe- Maybe this is how we're supposed to be? I hope the part of you that decided to stab us isn’t the part of you that’s with me… I don’t want to get stabbed a third time.

Gurgling liquid bubbles up from the open pockets in the disintegrating mass in front of you. It is trying to speak, but it no longer has the tissue that speech requires.

Wait! If we need to be together to get out, maybe this counts? We have to try! Before your body, um, stops being alive.

Uh, yeah! That might work! Go!

You hurtle towards the cabin door, but time seems to slow down the closer you get. In a moment, you’re halfway there… in two minutes, halfway again… you keep halving the distance until the door feels almost within reach.

We’re not going to make it! We’re going to be stuck again, aren’t we-

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Are you still there? Am I alone again?

No, you aren’t.

Then at least I won’t be lonely. It’s nice to hear your voice… I mean, I think it's your voice?

I guess a thought is kind of like a voice you don’t hear. I wonder what happened to the others, though.

I don’t know. I hope they’re okay. Uh… some of them, at least. I didn’t like the one that kept bossing you around. And that quiet one gave me the creeps. I like the other two, though. I hope they’re okay.

The Hero and The Self? I hope they’re okay, too. I like them both a lot, they’re useful and their hearts are in the right place. By the way… I’m sorry for stabbing you, again.

It’s okay, I’m sure you had your reasons… but why did you?

I think I have a phobia of death… thanatophobia? The cold.. the numbness… all of it was too much. In a panic… the blade was the best I could think of… obviously not the best choice.

It definitely felt weird when you reached the top of the stairs. I’m sorry I caused you so much grief.

It’s nice to be able to talk to you without being interrupted. I like having my head clear. Are you still a ghost?

Your gaze turns to your hands. They flicker between solid and translucent.

Maybe? It’s like sometimes we are and sometimes we aren’t. Like we’re something in between ghost and… not-ghost.

So this is what it’s like… wait…

I can feel you thinking up there. What is it?

Well, I think… I think you may exist in a state where my decisions or perception of you directly impact how you look and act.

Really? That’s… scary. I just want to be me.

Maybe we can find a way to stop it? What are we supposed to do? We’re chained, do we just wait?

Well, that’s what I’ve always done. Wait, and then you’d come.

You wait. Nothing happens.

I guess we have to wait some more?

It’s definitely not what normally happens.

Speaking of what normally happens, what was that with the you deserve this shit between when I I died and reappeared at the cabin?

Both times I was suddenly in the cabin… it’s hard to explain but I could feel the universe itself hating my existence. Finding it disgusting, like it’d remove me if it could.

Wow…

…it hurts, in a way I can’t describe.

Tears swell in your eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m going to free you this time. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

More waiting. Still, nothing happens.

This is going to sound silly, but usually there’s a title card. The first one said ‘CHAPTER I: THE HERO AND THE PRINCESS’ while the second one said ‘CHAPTER II: THE SPECTRE.’

Giggling. Well, the first one is sweet.

I failed, though. I slayed an innocent Princess all because some stupid prick told me to.

I prefer to leave those things in the past and focus on the future. So, that would make this chapter three…

CHAPTER III: THE PRINCESS AND THE DRAGON

Oh, reversing the order! That’s quite creative, I like that!

Thanks! I thought it would be fun.

The click of a latch and creaking hinges, muffled. Something entered the cabin.

I guess you made it back here.

Me, huh? There’s The Narrator, The Hero, The Cold, and The Self. But every time I die there’s a new one… so there’d be another now.

Your gaze returns to your hands. They flicker, the sound of a blade being picked up from above, and then your hands turn solid.

I know that sound… it’s the knife.

…shit…

Creaking hinges once again, but this time it is clear and closer.

What do I look like?

It’s hard to describe because it’s hard to look at you. I suppose… scary? It’s hard to tell behind the mass of feathers.

Thumping down the stairs. A figure emerges, an oversized human-like being. Wings from its back cover the front, and in one of its taloned-hands a shining blade. It stares at you with white, hollow eyes.

Maybe you should tell them I’m in here with you?

”I’m not alone here this time. Part of you stayed with me when we split apart.”

The head of the figure cocks to the side. Inquisitive? Suspicious? Hostile? Its emotions are unreadable.

”You don’t want to hurt that part of you, do you?”

More silence.

Oh, so that was all in real-time.

What was?

The voices talk a lot. I thought it was one of those things where you have a conversation in your head before doing something. As in, quick. You’ve really just watched me stand still for minutes?

I’ve never met anyone else… I thought it was normal.

They might think you can still hear their thoughts, like last time? I don’t know… just get their attention.

“I can’t hear what’s going on in there now that I’m back in my own body. Do you want to share your thoughts? It’d only be polite, really?”

“Oh you would like to hear what we’re thinking, wouldn’t you?

Fuck!

He raises the blade above his head, dangling it by the handle in front of his eyes. A wicked grin appears, partially obscured by the wings.

“But I think we hold the power right now.”

Why is he being like this… none of your voices would act like that!?

It’s The Opportunist? How do I know… unimportant. He’s absolute trash that would sell his soul if it secured him a cushy spot at the top of the world.

The smirk disappears as the creature brings its wings up to hide all but its eyes.

“But she knows about the decider being gone. That would be a weird bluff to come up with if it weren’t true.”

“Look, I love that you’re trying to contribute, but I think we need to take a little sidebar.”

The wings lower to reveal the face. It stares, absently, at the wall above you.

“A little sidebar? This should be an easy choice!”

“Sidebar! Now!”

Silence, as the mind in front of you falls back into itself.

Well… okay. I guess we wait for an answer.

Like hell we will! Aren’t you tired of letting him… me , decide how this goes? Show him how you feel!

I’m not used to being assertive.

Just try your best?

“Um… excuse me?”

“My apologies. They’re really being quite dull in here.”

More silence.

“I think they want to kill you. At least the new one does. He’s very, very passionate about it.”

“We want to kill her!? It’s just that new one and Him that want to!”

“Well, tell him not to?”

“Your opinion has been duly noted, aaannnndddd disregarded. In fact, I think a decision’s been made. Two birds with one stone. How tempting. From what I remember , it was pretty easy to kill you the first time around. And this time you’re back to being… what’s the word…”

“Fleshy?”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s precisely the word I was looking for! You’re fleshy now, no more of that incorporeality. Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it would be easy.”

“And… are you doing this?”

“Oh, I most definitely am!”

The monster lunges forward to attack, but the free arm stops the arm with the blade from plunging it into your body.

“YOU FUCKER! DO YOU THINK YOU HOLD MORE POWER HERE!?”

“STOP SABOTAGING US YOU RIGHTEOUS PRICK!”

The monster turns inward, battling itself.

What the…

We have an opening! Hit him! Hard!

You wait for the monster to get closer in its fight before striking it with a fist. Before your hand connects, you see the eyes of yourself.

“Ow! Shit…”

“Good punch. If only you hit the right target.”

The figure lunges, its blade aimed at your heart. The tip pierces the skin-

The Narrator: -and begins to dig into her body. You suddenly stop and pull the blade out- what?

“Oh my god! Are you okay!?”

“I think… that didn’t get through the bone.”

Voice of the Hero: You’re back!

Voice of the Opportunist: Haha… you’re back…

I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!

You go still except for twitches in your face as your mind fights itself. The Princess looks on, confused. A moment, two moments, three moments…

Voice of the Hero: I don’t like him either! Let me at him!

Voice of the Self: Oh you’re going to get it!

In the back of your head, a voice goes quiet. You hug the Princess. She blushes gently.

“So, you’re in your body again. I thought it felt a little empty in here. I’m hurt, but I’ll live. You’ll… let me live, right?”

“Obviously! Just need to get you out of the chains.”

“Alright, but give me the knife. What if using it again kicks you out of your body again?”

“Good point, here.”

The Narrator: You hand the blade to the princess, who gingerly cuts herself free from the bindings. You maniac.

Do you want to end up like The Opportunist?

The Narrator: No. As she finishes cutting through her chains, she turns and hurls the blade through the basement window. No no no no no! You need the blade to deal with her.

You need the blade to deal with her.

“Whew, I’m so glad that’s over. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The Narrator: She reaches forward and takes your hand before excitingly pulling you towards the basement stairs. It’s… delicate and tender. The two of you rush up the basement stairs together. Eugh. Listen, if you step through that door you’re damning every single person alive. You do realize that, yes?

I don’t think that’ll be the case.

“One last door, and then we’re free. I’m, uh, down a hand, so you’ll have to be the one to open it.”

The Narrator: You twist the doorknob in your hand and step forward into the world you’ve damned. You and the Princess fall to the ground next to each other, still hand-in-hand, and look at the star-filled sky. I hope this all comes back to bite you, do you hear! I hope you’re forced… to feel the weight… of all the regret-

“It’s so beautiful, the night sky.”

“It makes me happy. I didn’t ever think I’d get to be happy, but I think I am now. I just didn’t realize that being happy would feel so… cold…”

“No!”

But your cries do nothing to stop the hands as they appear and take her. Memory returns.

Can we just cut the chit-chat this time? I know there’s the mirror, again. You’ll all be fine, trust me.

Voice of the Hero: So you’ve done this before? Alright, I trust you.



Voice of the Cold: I wonder what’ll happen after.

Silence as you approach. You can see yourself… or can you? You are are nothing at all. But you can’t be nothing? That isn’t right. You refocus your gaze, and then you see it: a figure, faint and veiled in shadow. It looks like a crow.

Chapter Text

THE NARRATOR

(YOU'D DO THE SAME IF YOU UNDERSTOOD)

INTERLUDE I: THE NARRATOR

“Are you me?”

“You know what I am.”

A crack forms in the mirror, splitting the figure in two. Then it shatters, the pieces covering your vision. He is in every one.

“So what are you?”

“An echo, likely one of many. Somebody made you, after all, and I’m what’s left of him. Not that I’m the only one who can make that claim. I’m sure you’ve met many others like me.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“The voices… what are they?”

“Pieces of you. Fragmented into their own personalities.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“Like glass shards… but what about The Self?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“I recall… dying, sometime before being here… how did I get here? What am I?”

“You are the Long Quiet, the god I made to rid the world of death.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“Making you wasn’t easy. I needed a crow’s heart. I like crows… a little too much, to kill one. I was walking back to my house, defeated, when I encountered a man bleeding in an alley. A blade stuck out from his chest, the blood around him indicative of his imminent death. And so, I took his heart instead… he was dying regardless.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“So that’s me? I died and came back?”

“No. He is dead. You only have a piece of him. A very small piece in my opinion. You are something more. The Long Quiet.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“I don’t want to be a god.”

“You are you, and if you let everything work the way it was supposed to, you never would have woken up to the reality of your true nature. There’s no accounting for free will.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

If you made me, it was for a reason. Why?”

“To rid the world of death itself. My world is on the moment right before the end… that’s her, the Princess. She contains death itself. Slaying her will save untold trillions from being lost forever to the cosmic wind. She must be destroyed. You still have a chance to fulfill your purpose once I’m gone.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“How could she possibly contain death?”

“She is the capacity to change. She is transformation, or most of it. Her nature is why I had to die, for she becomes what others perceive her to be. But an echo can’t perceive things.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

You do realize without change, NOTHING will be different? How is that worse than death!?”

“It is. She may be most of change, but not all of it. You contain some of her, and she contains some of you. Things won’t be as they are now, but they won’t be nothing either.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“You’re wrong and completely delusional.”

“I’m only delusional if I’m wrong. And I’m not wrong. I can’t be wrong.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“You always think you’re never wrong. Ugh… but… why is she a Princess? If she can be anything… she’s only a concept, right?”

“I’m not going to psychoanalyze you. I don’t know. Gods are supposed to be beyond comprehension.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“There’s just two shards left. I… want you to know you’re wrong. You created me in hubris and will die in hubris as well.”

“...”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

“One more shard. Goodbye.”

“Well, there’s no reasoning with a god… I guess my time is up. Like I said, I’m just an echo. And echoes fade away.”

The crow closes his eyes. The final piece of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion. You see yourself with newfound clarity. All of this - the path, the hill, the cabin - it is all you. When you arrive at the heart of things, there she is at the top of the hill. Fully formed, a being of many Princesses. You go up to her.

“I know what we are. You are The Long Quiet. I am The Shifting Mound. We are gods and it is time for us to be free.”

“I still want to find the other vessels.”

“But why? We know what we are. Those vessels are already here with me.”

“But I don’t know them! And I should. They’re me, too!”

“If that is truly what you wish…”

“Before I go, can you please tell me about this vessel?”

“This one is a perspective bleeding into one. She will make for an empathetic heart. Do not mourn her, for you would not mourn yourself.”

“I think I am mourning myself, in a way…”

“Then mourn.”

“Maybe later. I should go back… but the first time is often repetitive.”

“You are a god. Use your power.”

“Alright, I’ll be back, then.”

This time, there is no shattering glass.

Chapter Text

THE SKEPTIC

(SCRUTINIZE EVERYTHING. INFORMATION IS POWER)

CHAPTER II: THE PRISONER

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: What did you do?

That’s not important. Just tell me how we got here.

Voice of the Self: Alright. You took the blade, but changed your mind to free her. He took control, but we failed to kill her… she killed us instead.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Would you mind just narrating until we get into the cabin? I’ll start walking to it, now.

The Narrator: You walk down the path, up the hill, and open the door into the cabin. You step inside and are greeted with cold, brick walls. Wrought-iron bars barricade the windows, reminding everyone that this is a prison.

Voice of the Skeptic: I must insist we take the blade. We’re in a dangerous situation, and I’m not letting us go down there without a weapon.

But I decided to…

Voice of the Skeptic: You didn’t decide to pick it up… call it a reflex. We take the knife as we go.

The Narrator: Wonderful. You do exactly that, sweeping the blade from the table before proceeding to the basement.

Voice of the Hero: Well, just because we have a knife doesn’t mean we have to use it.

The Narrator: You’ll do well to use it. Moving on, you open the door to the basement and walk down the stone steps. A few sputtering torches dance across the glimmering patches of moss on the stone steps. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor. Her voice, harsh but controlled, carries up the stairs.

“Is that a visitor I hear? Please, come downstairs. It’s been a while since I’ve had some company.”

Voice of the Skeptic: I wonder what visitors she’s referring to… are we not the first?

The Narrator: You walk up the stairs and lock eyes with the Princess. She looks up at you, the heavy collar around her neck clanking loudly as she moves, the chain binding both her wrists join the metallic chorus as she adjusts her hands in her lap.

Voice of the Hero: Should we be worried about the one around her neck?

The Narrator: Why would you worry? They’ll make your job easier.

Voice of the Skeptic: Have you noticed the empty chain on the wall? Odd that in a place where everything seems to serve a distinct purpose, there would be something so useless.

“What an interesting development. Why don’t you have a seat? The two of us should chat before you bury that thing in my heart.”

The Narrator: You step toward the Princess and sit on the ground.

“Thank you. Now, what are your intentions for me?”

”Free you, obviously.”

“Then why would you need a knife?”

”Oh, well… it was a reflex. I picked it up out of a habit.”

“Perhaps that is good. There is no keyhole in these shackles, so I’m afraid my only way out is surgical removal.”

Voice of the Hero: Is she forgetting about the shackle on her neck?

Voice of the Skeptic: Or does she think she’ll survive a beheading?

The Narrator: Maybe she’s delusional. All the more reason not to trust her.

Voice of the Skeptic: Unless she really could survive.

“But, you have a shackle around your neck, too. It’ll be hard to cut you out”

“Cut me out? Hah, no. Like I trust you to come any closer with that knife. All you’re going to do is hand it to me, and watch me work.”

Voice of the Hero: But she would have to cut her head off, right? She can’t be suggesting that.

Voice of the Skeptic: She certainly seems confident. Maybe she knows something we don’t.

The Narrator: Or, and this is the most likely scenario, she’s bluffing so she can disarm you.

“Before I do… what’s with that other shackle? Who is it for?”

“I don’t know, but you could always try it on. Maybe it’ll fit.”

The Narrator: Please don’t lock yourself in chains.

I do wonder if it’ll fit me… I don’t need to put on to try that though.

The Narrator: …Against your better judgment, you approach the chain dangling from the fair wall. The Princess watches you with faux-disinterest as you inspect it, though she can’t fully hide her curiosity. You pick up the chain, and… I don’t want to say what happens next.

Voice of the Hero: What is that supposed to mean? It sounds bad. Is that bad?

The Narrator: Yes. It’s bad. In a blink, the shackle jumps from your hand, snapping around-

Voice of the Self: -nothing. Your muscles twitch just fast enough to avoid it from chaining your neck. Instead, it goes off into the air before returning to the wall.

The Narrator: That’s not what happened! You can’t just-

Voice of the Self: You want to know why you don’t hear me often? I’m back here keeping this body ready for anything. You dodge, though you do get a cut from an iron bolt on your neck. Blood rolls down from your neck to your collarbone.

“That look like it hurt.”

“It did. So, you said you wanted to free yourself?”

“Yes. Hand me the blade.”

The Narrator: For goodness sake, don’t just hand her it!

Voice of the Skeptic: If He’s so against it… do it.

The Narrator: No! I refuse to do it.

Voice of the Self: You gently toss the blade in front of the Princess.

The Narrator: Dammit… she picks it up, pulls up her hair with a slight smile, and raises the blade to her throat. She doesn’t say another word as she cuts into… her own neck.

Voice of the Skeptic: No!

The Narrator: You attempt to close your eyes, but are unable to look away from what is occuring. The blade finishes slicing flesh and muscle, meating bone and cartilage. The sound of metal scraping bone causes you to regurgitate.

“Blegh!”

The Narrator: Her eyes stay forward, unblinking, as she slices through the vertebrae. I’ll be damned, she’s actually doing your job for you. Why would she do that?

Voice of the Skeptic: Huh. So that’s her play.

Voice of the Hero: Suicide!?

Voice of the Skeptic: She isn’t dead yet.

The Narrator: Finally, you hear a snap. Her eye twitches. The remaining threads of skin and muscles snap, and her head hits the floor with a hard smack.

“I think I’m gonna hurl again- blergh!”

The Narrator: As the head rolls and stops once it reaches your feet, the sight causes the contents of your stomach to be forced out once more. She’s dead. Congrats, you saved the world.

Voice of the Self: She’s dead? Of course not.

The Narrator: How could she possibly be alive?

Voice of the Hero: She’s very clearly dead!

Voice of the Self: You think she would just kill herself? That is the opposite of everything we’ve known her to do. And, last time, we died but came back. Maybe death isn’t so temporary here.

Voice of the Skeptic: Yes… take the head with you. She’s left us with this dangling thread, and I need to know why .

The Narrator: Ugh. Fine. You picked up the Princess’ severed head, its neck stump still oozing bodily fluids-

Voice of the Self -blood, saliva, spinal fluid-

The Narrator: -Yes, you make your way back upstairs to the first floor of the cabin. You open the cabin door, ready to return to a world saved from certain doom. Only… a world saved from certain doom isn’t what you find. Instead, what you find is- no, wait, that’s not right.

“Well played.”

The Narrator: This- this is the end of the world, isn’t it? I always thought that…. time to explain myself before… it’s already-

Voice of the Hero: …over? Is he gone?

Voice of the Skeptic: But we’re still here. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world after all. Maybe it was just the end of His.

“Thanks for carrying me up here. I had to take it on faith that you would know what to do.”

“It was a crazy plan, but I figured it out somehow.”

“I’m glad I was right to trust you. So this is the outside. Maybe it’s just the lack of a body, but… it’s colder than I expected.

The hands take her away. You don’t find a mirror, not anymore. You know what you are.

You stand in front of her.

“Why prolong the inevitable? Each of these vessels is contained in me, and in you.”

“In every library there are books. Every book has a beginning and end. No matter what you do, each book will have the same beginning and the same end. But you still pick it up, because it’s what’s in between those two points that matters.”

“There may be reason within those words.”

“Tell me about this vessel.”

“This one is cold and cynical. She protected herself when others could not. She will make for a clever heart. Do not mourn her, she doesn’t need to be protected any longer.”

“I’ll be back again soon.”

This time, there is no shattering glass. Just the opening of another story.

Chapter Text

THE STUBBORN

(LOSING ISN'T GOING DOWN, BUT FAILING TO GET BACK UP)

CHAPTER II: THE ADVERSARY

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: Stop that.

That’s not important. Just tell me how we got here.

Voice of the Self: Seriously, I can tell something is-

Get on with it.

Voice of the Self: …Alright. You took the blade and talked to her briefly, but it was enough for doubt to creep in and for her to plan a counter… she killed us, but not before we sunk the blade into her heart. An eye for an eye.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Would you mind just narrating until we get into the cabin? I’ll start walking to it, now.

The Narrator: You walk down the path, up the hill, and open the door into the cabin. You step inside and are greeted with cold stone walls angled towards the door. The only furniture of note is a black-iron altar with a pristine blade perched on the edge.

Voice of the Stubborn: No blade. We go mano y mano. Wouldn’t want to feel like we cheated our way to a win.

The Narrator: As long as you can get the job done. You open the door to the basement, revealing a rough stone staircase, its walls pressing your sides and tightening as you descend. The air seeping from below is heavy and oppressive, with an almost sulfuric odor to it. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor. Her fierce voice carries up the stairs.

“Is that another challenger? Finally, it’s been ages since I’ve had a good fight.”

The Narrator: You reach the bottom, the Princess having demon-like features such as horns and a tail. A large shackles goes from her wrist to the wall.

Voice of the Hero: It looks like she could rip out of that chain if she wanted to.

“Oh, it’s you again. I’ve been hoping you’d find your way back here. Good to see that death doesn’t stick for either of us. But no little knife this time, huh? Ugh, I hope you’re not here just to chat. I’ve been itching for a rematch.”

“I would like to continue or match, but there are some things we have to unpack first. Like how we’re both still alive.”

“What is there to unpack? I was dead and now I’m not, and the same goes for you. There, unpacking done. Don’t you get it? We’ve been given free reign to wail on each other forever.”

Voice of the Stubborn: Couldn’t have said it better myself.

The Narrator: Alright, fine, I clearly believe you’ve been here before. That’s all the more reason to take this seriously. What brought the two of you back to life could’ve been a fluke! Beyond that, do you know who doesn’t remember any of last time? Me. I. Don’t. Remember.

Voice of the Hero: Are… you okay?

The Narrator: Of course I’m not okay! As far as we’re all concerned, the fate of my world is still very much on the line. Not all of us have the luxury of jumping over to a parallel universe the second we die.

“Well, I’ll let you know that I left the knife upstairs because it felt unfair otherwise. I’m here for a good, fair fight.”

“Then why are you just standing there? Fight me.”

“Tsk… fine then! Let’s go!”

The Narrator: I guess we’ll see how this goes… You charge the Princess.

Voice of the Self: Left jab, right cross.

Voice of the Stubborn: Stagger her with a good shock to the sternum and then hit her real good!

The Narrator: The two of you follow into combat. Your left hand meets her bone, bouncing off. She takes in a breath from the sudden shock. Your right hand follows, but she moves her elbow to block it. You two exchange blows, forging bruises into each other’s skin.

“Not bad. You’re tougher than I thought you’d be.”

Voice of the Self: Fake a left, do a right. Left kick, sweep the legs.

Voice of the Stubborn: Then beat her while she’s down!

The Narrator: You put all your power into a left blow. She immediately reacts to block it, but it was a ruse. You quickly exchange the power from left to right, hitting her in the abdomen. As she grunts from the pain, you kick at her legs. But they’re too strong to sweep. She returns your attacks with a fierce overhead blow, dizzying you.

“Without that knife, though? You’ll never be enough.”

The Narrator: She swings her leg, her knee connects with your sternum and cracks it violently. The wind leaves your lungs and is instead replaced with something else. Hot blood, suffocating you from the inside.

“Hrgghh!”

“You have to WANT to kill me. Like this…”

The Narrator: You don’t have a chance to see her movement as it immediately connects. Everything goes dark-

Voice of the Hero: Wait, are you serious? That’s it?

The Narrator: That’s it.

Voice of the Stubborn: Like hell it is! We’re not giving up that easy, now GET UP!

The Narrator: You’re dead. There’s not getting up from that.

Voice of the Self: I… believe I’ve gotten up from death before. It’s not impossible. You get up off the ground.

The Narrator: That’s not right!? You’re-

Voice of the Stubborn: Not dead anymore?

The Narrator: Yes! Your eyes bolt open and you push yourself back to your feet. You’re… alive. The Princess takes a step back and looks down at her pulp-covered fists.

“I could’ve sworn I killed you. That’s… your face splattered on the walls and dripping from my hands.”

“Wait, no… my face? You’re joking, right? I still have my face right!?”

“You don’t. I don’t even know how you’re talking to me.”

The Narrator: You raise your hands and touch the front of your head. She’s… not wrong.

“AHHHHHHH! Okay! Okay! Just… give me a second to put it back on.”

The Narrator: You quickly snatch the biggest chunk of your face from the wall and put it back on… as best as someone can put their own face back on themselves.

“You said I need my blade to be an equal? So… can I go get it?”

“No.”

The Narrator: She steps forward, snapping the chain around her wrist. The both of you resume exchanging blows, scratching and tearing skin. It’s… not as one-sided as I’d feared, but it’s still a far cry from what I’d hoped. Her injuries, although numerous, pale in comparison to yours. As much as you’re trying to ignore it, adrenaline pushing you past your limits, every moment burns.

“This is getting boring. Are you even trying to keep up with me?”

The Narrator: She lands another devastating-no, lethal-blow. Everything goes dark. Again. And you die. Again.

Voice of the Stubborn: Get up.

Voice of the Self: Get up.

The Narrator: Once more you push yourself back to your mangled feet!?

“How are you still moving? How are you still doing anything!? B-Bodies aren’t supposed to look like that.”

“It hurts… so much… but dying… hurts more…”

“I’m sorry, but I have to put you out of your misery. I don’t like looking at you like this. You’re all twitching… it’s wrong.”

Voice of the Stubborn: I’d like to see her try! We’re invincible!

The Narrator: No, you’re not. She sends a straight punch into where your… face is… and then your body instantly falls to the ground. Everything goes dark…

Voice of the Hero: And then we die?

Voice of the Stubborn: No, we… wait, where’s the other one?

Voice of the Hero: Him?

Voice of the Stubborn: No, the other other one.

The Narrator: Well, my best guess is that getting your brain removed from your body tends to do wonders to your state of existence. Now, I hope to hear no more complaining?

Voice of the Self: Hrghhh… hrckkk… 

Voice of the Stubborn: …Alright, I give up.

The Narrator: Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III: THE FURY

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods-

Voice of the Stubborn: All right! Change of plans. We’re taking the blade this time.

Voice of the Contrarian: Now why would we ever do that ?

Voice of the Hero: Because she absolutely destroyed us?

Voice of the Contrarian: She sure did, but what a great way to go.

Voice of the Self: Gents, can we cut the shit? The whole place is covered in flesh!

The Narrator: Well clearly you’ve already been here. Look, if the world is changing then that means you’re nearing the point of no return. Whatever happens next, that’s it. There are no more do-overs.

Then let’s win this time.

The Narrator: You go up the hill and enter the cabin. The interior of the cabin is a place that feels long forgotten. There was once an elegance to its construction, carved into marble columns holding a high-arched roof. But that’s how it was. Now a growth of flesh has overtaken it. A viscous fluid seeps from the cracks and congeals into chaotic streaks of writhing nerves and clumps of living meat.

Voice of the Hero: Ew, that’s horrible

Voice of the Contrarian: I think it’s kind of nice. Makes the room feel alive doesn’t it?

The Narrator: The only furniture of note is a pulsating pedestal, a pristine blade perched on its edge.

I know there’s a blade. Fuck the blade! I can take her this time… I’m ready.

The Narrator: You slam your fist on the door leading to the basement. It opens, as if on command. The stairs leading down to the basement are both narrow and grandiose. The walls are wet with tumorous growths that press uncomfortably into your sides. You feel both unprotected and trapped, at once exposed and claustrophobic. If the Princess lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her voice, a bellow rage, roars up the stairs.

“So you’ve returned. Do you intend to weakly claw your fingers across my skin? Or have you finally decided to try to kill me properly? I think you’ll find it won’t be so simple. I’ve… changed. The way your flesh felt grinding beneath my fist, it awoke something within me. A fight is a song, but there was no music nor beauty in our conflict. Now there’s no beauty in me. Come down and see what you’ve done.

Voice of the Contrarian: Do you hear that? Sounds like we got to her last time. Let’s keep pushing, see what else we can make happen.

The Narrator: You make your way to the bottom of the stairs. The chamber’s walls are painted in blood. This place reeks of torment, of ripped skin, and burning bone. The Princess stands large, looming, her muscles flayed bare. She is draped in a tattered dress of her own skin. Her heart beats from its place in her open chest.

“Can you even fathom what I’m going to do to you?”

The Narrator: She steps forward. The chain on her wrist digs deep into her skin, blood dripping from the place where metal meets flesh. And then, with a nauseating sound, the skin tears off the Princess as she pulls the red, glistening arm free from her bindings. She is loose, and she is coming for you.

What do I do!?

Voice of the Contrarian: She wants us to be afraid because she wants us to think she can make us suffer. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

Voice of the Stubborn: That’s right! No fear. She’s bigger than last time but she’s pulling herself apart. She’s practically already done most of the work for us!

Voice of the Hero: She definitely would end the world if she got out… we have to do this.

“I’ll take you out!”

“You’ll try. And that’s what I’ve been excited for. Let’s HURT each other.”

The Narrator: With your heart full of fear, you charge towards the Princess. Your eyes lock, both of you prepared to lay down your very essence in one blow.

Voice of the Stubborn: It’s now or never! Let’s make it a beautiful blaze of-

The Narrator: In an instant, you are unwound with a horrifying squelch. The flesh that should be within you is now out.

Voice of the Hero: No, no, no, that’s our stuff! She can’t just do that!

The Narrator: She just did. Unfortunate, I know, but reality is-

Voice of the Contrarian: Do we really need that to fight, though? We’re fiiiiiine.

Voice of the Stubborn: Finally, something I can agree with! We may be down, but we’re not out for the count yet.

“Still, you fall to pieces. What is the point of all this power if there’s no challenge to using it? This is a numb existence.”

“I… didn’t hear… no… bell…”

The Narrator: Though the ribbons of your unraveled body struggle to coordinate, you manage to put one foot forward.

“Oh, so you still have some fight in you. Let’s see how long it takes to CRUSH it!”

The Narrator: The Princess clenches her fist, and as her knuckles tighten, even more of you becomes undone. Your skin is flayed, your fatty tissue torn from your muscles.

“AHHH!”

“What are you? You’re clearly not your skin.”

Voice of the Self: Keep going.

The Narrator: Still, you push on, placing one disaster of a foot in front of the other.

“Perhaps muscle is where you dwell.”

The Narrator: She smiles, and again her will tears at you. Muscle untethers from bone.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!”

Voice of the Self: Keep going!

The Narrator: You shamble on, a mass of organs suspended in bone. All held together by the thinnest strands of connective tissue.

“I really thought that losing your muscle would be the end of you! This is exciting, we’re in uncharted depths! I can’t WAIT to see how much more of you I can take before you finally stop moving.”

The Narrator: You continue to struggle, but her power is immense. As your organs slip from between your ribs. She tries to take a step back, only now, the wall prevents her from going anywhere. She is within your reach, if only you have the determination to reach her.

“Come on! One more step! Do it! Hit me! SHOW ME WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF!”

The Narrator: Your skeletal hand reaches towards her heart, but the closer it gets, the more brittle it becomes. First the bone peels away, then the marrow, then the nerves, until-

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Voice of the Hero: Until what?

Voice of the Contrarian: I think he gave up on us.

Voice of the Stubborn: Figures.

“In the end, you are nothing. Just like what’s left of me.”

Voice of the Self: KEEP GOING!

Something, or nothing, bursts forward from the place that is you. Threads in the shape of a pristine blade pierce her heart.

“Huh. I felt that. It’s… cold.”

The hands take her away. You don’t find a mirror, not anymore. You know what you are.

You stand in front of her.

“An epic battle, but one that destroyed the both of you. Do you still wish to continue preventing your ascent to godhood?”

“Just for a while. Tell me about this vessel.”

“This one is desecration. She placed the weight of the world on you, yet it is she who was unwound. There is passion and empathy buried under her unfeeling skin. She will make for a weathered heart.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

This time, there is no shattering glass. Just the opening of another story.

Chapter Text

THE CHEATED

(WHERE'S MY QUIRKY COMMENT? THIS IS SO UNFAIR)

CHAPTER II: THE RAZOR

Voice of the Self: I suppose I’m just supposed to play along with your game, hmm?

Yep.

Voice of the Self: Only until I gather my bearings…

Alright, but please go on.

Voice of the Self: We slayed her, went to check her heart rate to make sure the job was done. It wasn’t… she skewered us out of nowhere.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Would you mind just narrating until we get into the cabin? I’ll start walking to it, now.

The Narrator: You walk down the path, up the hill, and open the door into the cabin. You step inside and are greeted with a jagged mess of warped woop and broken boards, their splintered edges as uninviting as shattered glass. The only furniture of note is a pointed table with a pristine blade perched on its edge. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Voice of the Cheated: We’re taking it! Need a weapon in our hands if we’re going to hurt her for what she did to us.

The Narrator: The door to the basement creaks open, revealing what must have once been stairs. The fractured slats look as if they’ve been torn from their source and violently jammed into the wall. The air seeping up from below has an almost metallic quality to it, like fresh blood. You hear the sound of something scraping against the basement’s walls. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor.

Voice of the Cheated: Scraping? She’s not even trying to hide her knife!

The Narrator: That sound could be anything. It’s probably just her chains dragging across the floor. Her grating voice carries up the stairs.

“I hope you’ve come to rescue me. I’ve been stuck down here forever.”

Voice of the Hero: There is something so wrong with that voice.

Voice of the Cheated: Yeah… she thinks she’s better than us! Like she doesn’t even have to put on an act this time.

The Narrator: As you descend the final step, the form of the Princess comes into view, her sharp eye following you from across the room.

“Finally, somebody ! Quick, get me out of these chains, we're not safe here.”

Voice of the Cheated: Come on, now. We’re not falling for that. She’s just trying to trick us, but she can’t hide that threatening edge to her voice. She wants us to get close, to let our guard down.”

“What are you waiting for? You came here to rescue me, right ?”

“Do you take me for an idiot? The moment I get close you’ll stab me.”

“What? Noooooo. No, I wouldn’t stab you. I am just a sweet , innocent Princess, trapped down here for no reason. And you are a brave knight who is supposed to walk up to… not-stabbing-distance to help me.”

Voice of the Cheated: I have absolutely zero doubts that she will stab us if we get close to her.

“I know you have a knife. Drop it and I’ll let you out of here.”

“A knife? What are you talking about? I don’t have a knife. Where would I keep a knife? And why would I stab you to death? I don’t know you. It would be so silly of me to… cut you open and look at your insides.”

Voice of the Self: I do not appreciate direct threats against our internal organs!

“Then prove it. Prove that you do not have a knife.”

“It would be so much easier to prove that I did have one, all I would have to do is show it to you! But I don’t have one, so I can’t.”

The Narrator: The Princess smiles as she pulls her hands from behind her back.

“Look at this! Hands! Hands that don’t have anything in them to stab you with.”

The Narrator: Her smile stretches into an even wider grin as she shakes her sleeves.

“And empty sleeves, too! Look at how few stabbing implements I have. It’s practically zero!”

“Well obviously if you had a knife you’d keep it somewhere secret!”

“I’ve shown you all of my hiding spots! What kind of Princess do you think I am? I would never hide something sharp somewhere secret. Wait, that sounds like I’m lying but I’m actually not. My secret zones are for me only. They have nothing to do with you or my intention to not-stab you to death the second you get close to me.”

“Ha, there’s no way I’d believe that unless you actually proved it to me.”

“...No.”

The Narrator: In a sudden burst of movement the Princess leaps towards you, a blade erupting from her free arm, her wrist limp and empty from the violent expulsion.

Voice of the Self: I never really considered the body itself to be a possible hiding place…

Voice of the Cheated: How observant of you. Really. Now what are we going to do!?

Voice of the Hero: At least we’re safe here. She’s still in chains.

The Narrator: And those chains stop her from continuing- and she sliced off the wrist with the shackle around it.

Voice of the Self: You just HAD to say it!

The Narrator: She darts towards you with a terrifying speed you can’t hope to outpace.

Voice of the Hero: Well, at least we have a weapon, let’s use it.

The Narrator: And use it you do. But unfortunately for you, and for the entire world, you are horribly outmatched. For a single brief exchange, you block successfully, before she severs your hand.

“I’m going to kill you now.”

The Narrator: And with a squelch, she does just that. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III: THE ARMS RACE

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods-

Voice of the Cheated: No, fuck that! If we’re going to have to keep doing this over and over and over again, we’re not starting in the goddamn woods every time. We’re starting in the fucking cabin!

The Narrator: You’re wha- The interior of the cabin is sharp, a constricting mess of curved and battered sheet metal- wait, excuse me!? What just happened? What did you just do?

Voice of the Hero: I feel dizzy.

Voice of the Cheated: Ohohoho, I guess I took us to the cabin, didn’t I? Isn’t that interesting. Who holds the cards now?

Voice of the Hunted: The circle’s getting smaller and smaller. Running isn’t an option anymore. We have to fight.

Voice of the Paranoid: Yeah, but for whom? Someone or something is out there pulling the strings, and we’re all just puppets until we can figure out how to see them.

Voice of the Cheated: But what if that someone is us ? Eh? Eh? Wouldn’t that be neat.

Oh my god can we PLEASE get on with this!

The Narrator: Things are falling apart… there is a pristine blade-

Voice of the Cheated: We take it.

The Narrator: Okay, sure. You take the blade before letting me finish telling you it's there. It would be difficult to slay the Princess and save the world without a weapon

Voice of the Hunted: This feels right. We just have to keep our senses sharp.

Voice of the Cheated: That’s right. We’ve got to be able to win eventually.

Voice of the Self: I sense even more bickering on the way…

I go to the door and open it, then head down.

The Narrator: You step into the basement. Where you expect a stair step, it is instead a smooth, flat, metallic slide. It sends you skittering to the bottom. Your body tumbles onto the basement floor, and the form of the Princess comes into view, standing at the distance. She gives you a wry smile.

“Hi! It looks like you don’t have a way out, so I’m not going to play dumb anymore.”

The Narrator: Immediately following is the wet sound of metal slicing meat. From the Princess’ arms erupt twin blades, glistening with her blood. The chain clatters to the floor. She takes her time walking to you, revealing in the moment.

Voice of the Hero: Gents, any bright ideas!?

I think I just felt a neuron fire… we’re going to seduce her.

The Narrator: Now I’ve tolerated quite a bit from you, but this is too far. Please don’t try romancing the Princess while she is actively intent on murdering you.

Voice of the Hero: Yeah, do we have to flirt with the murderous monster?

Voice of the Hunted: I’d rather not.

Voice of the Paranoid: Maybe it’ll work! Maybe it’ll throw her off. I know I’d be thrown off if she started flirting with us.

Voice of the Cheated: I’m fine with it. Let’s see where this goes.

Alright, this calls for nuclear-level flirtation. We need… The Look.

The Narrator: The Look?

Voice of the Hero: The Look.

Voice of the Hunted: The Look. We’ve all used it.

Voice of the Cheated: Yeah, do you not know about The Look?

Voice of the Paranoid: Are you sure you want to use The Look so early? It’s supposed to be saved for emergencies.

This is very much an emergency!

The Narrator: Sigh . You flash the Princess The Look… and a rosy blush rushes to the Princess’ cheeks as she breaks into a wide grin. Unbelievable.

“Oh? Is that how it is? Yeah okay I feel that. I like you too. Neat! Still going to kill you, but now we can both enjoy a mutual romantic subtext to the murder.”

The Narrator: Blush still glowing in her cheeks, the Princess closes the distance between you, blades flashing. She skewers-

Voice of the Self: Tries to skewer you, but a well timed block from the blade glances her blow to your side… and knocks the blade out of your hand.

“Well, if I’m going to die… can I at least say I wish I could be doing the skewer- ”

The Narrator: Her cheeks turn redder from that comment... you cheeky bastard. She forces her blade into your heart. Everything-

Voice of the Smitten: No, this pain is normal! What sort of romance doesn't hurt at least a little bit? What matters is she likes us. She even said it herself!

Voice of the Hero: Oh! A new one of us.

Voice of the Cheated: I thought that only happened when we died. Did we die?

The Narrator: You’re on a- no, you’re in a- where the hell are you!?

Voice of the Paranoid: Holy shit, we died. Are we dead right now? Have we been dead this entire time?

Voice of the Cheated: Stop saying dead! We might have been dead a second ago, but right now we’re extremely not dead.

The Narrator: This is all horribly wrong. How many times have you been here?

Uh… four, maybe?

The Narrator: Maybe!? This wasn’t supposed to go past one!

“Still alive! You’re so full of surprises and I love that.”

The Narrator: There is no time to chat as she takes another step towards you.

Voice of the Cheated: Okay. Whatever we do gets us another… us. Let’s see how many we can stack. There’s got to be a point where it makes us better than her.

You keep trying new ideas to survive. Flattery, fighting, surrendering. None of it matters. She kills you, again, and again, and again. Your memory blurs as your consciousness smears across the lifetimes you have.

The Narrator: And then everything does dark, and you die.

CHAPTER IV: MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the-

Voice of the Cheated: Don’t lose your head. We’re in a cabin, and we’ll take it from here.

Voice of the Hunted: Everything feels like it finally fits, doesn’t it? We’re up here which is different, and different is good. And our steel claw is already in our hand.

Voice of the Contrarian: Oho! What if we throw it out the window?

Voice of the Stubborn: Over my dead body.

Voice of the Broken: That wouldn’t be very hard. We’ve died a lot.

Voice of the Smitten: Besides, what better way to die than at the hands of a beautiful woman.

Voice of the Skeptic: I’m sure I can think of a better way to die.

Voice of the Cold: Eh, they’re all the same, really.

Voice of the Paranoid: How about we stop thinking about all the horrible ways to die? I don’t want us to accidentally manifest anything.

Voice of the Opportunist: The only thing we’re going to manifest is finally ending up on top.

The Narrator: How many times have you been here!? This is too many, this is-

Voice of the Cheated: How about you stick to describing things, and we’ll stick to doing them?

Voice of the Smitten: Narrator! We heroically stride through the door and towards our destined final encounter with our star-crossed lover!

The Narrator: Fine by me. You step into the stairs and-

Voice of the Hero: It’s more of a slide? We know.

The Narrator: Fine! I’ll just shut up so the whole thing can speed along. You make your way to the bottom of the basement, where the Princess awaits you.

“You know, the last time I killed you and you didn’t pop right back up again? I thought I’d actually done it! I thought I’d cut you into so many pieces you just weren’t able to stitch yourself back together. But I guess we’re not done! That’s okay with me. It’s good, even. I like that! I got something ready for you while you were gone, do you want to see it… actually, I’ll just show you. Right now.”

The Narrator: whistles

Voice of the Hero: Are you going to say what she does?

The Narrator: Oh, do you want me to talk now?

Voice of the Hero: Well, yeah. She says she has something new. I want to hear about the new thing.

The Narrator: Really? Okay. The Princess’ skin twists, splitting into red blooms of raw meat as it stretches and tears. And then it erupts… and you throw up.”

“Blegh!”

The Narrator: She becomes a wave of blood and viscera, pieces of her splattering against the walls. All that remains is a skeleton of blades with a furiously beating heart in the cage of its chest.

“Are you ready for what comes next?”

Voice of the Hero: Holy shit!


Voice of the Smitten: She’s gorgeous! Absolutely divine!

Voice of the Stubborn: Yes! Behold, the perfect woman!

Voice of the Contrarian: Do you think we can throw her out the window?

Voice of the Cold: That looked… painful.

Voice of the Skeptic: How is she still alive?

Voice of the Hunted: Heart’s still beating. That’s all she needs.

Voice of the Paranoid: This is fake! This is all fake!

Voice of the Opportunist: She doesn’t even have a back anymore. How are we supposed to stab her in it?

Voice of the Broken: This is all just a sick joke. I hate existing.

Voice of the Cheated: We’re screwed. I quit! I’m done! Forget it!

The voices bicker and bicker in your mind.

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!

The noises stop.

The Narrator: …What just happened? It’s so… quiet.

He, too, stops speaking upon your internal command.

“Something feels different about you… like I should take this seriously for once.”

She strikes at you, but by the time she’s finished her arc you’re already somewhere else. You take the blade and clash in battle against her. A rhythm free of thought and free of self. There is only the dance. The ebb and flow. The shifting of tides back and forth between you. An endless volley, and then an opening. Your blade strikes her heart, a lethal blow. The hands take her away. You don’t find a mirror, not anymore. You know what you are.

You stand in front of her.

“Interesting. A vessel made of metal. Even now she wishes to strike you.”

“Tell me about this vessel.”

“This one is a single-minded edge. She is cruelty. But she is also joy. She will make for a piercing heart..”

“A piercing heart? That sounds menacing…”

“It only adds more depth to what I am… what we are.”

“Then you know what I must do. See you soon.”

This time, there is no shattering glass. Just the opening of another story.

Chapter Text

THE HUNTED

(JUST SURVIVE. NOTHING ELSE MATTERS)

CHAPTER II: THE BEAST

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of Self: Let me guess, you want me to describe how we got here?

Pretty much.

Voice of the Self: Fine then. We went without a knife and asked questions. We decided to go back and grab the knife, to slay her, but she… somehow unchained herself and tore us to bits.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Would you mind just narrating until we get into the cabin? I’ll start walking to it, now.

The Narrator: You walk down the path, up the hill, and open the door into the cabin. You step inside and are greeted with an interior that is ruinous and dilapidated. It feels like no one hsa lived here for a long time, wind rushing in through cracks and holes in the wooden walls. The only furniture of note is a termite-eaten table with a pristine blade perched on its edge. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Yoink.

The Narrator: You take the blade from the table and then head down into the basement. You make your way down an old, wooden staircase that’s full of holes. The air seeping up from below is oddly warm and wet, as if you were descending into a jungle. If the Princess lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. She growls up the stairs.

“I can smell you.”

Voice of the Hero: She sounds… feral.

Voice of the Hunted: Impatient. Or maybe eager.

The Narrator: You reach the bottom of the stairs. The basement walls are obscured by an impenetrable darkness, the leaves of plants surround on all sides.

Voice of the Hunted: The jungle is pressing in on us… hiding her from view. She could be anywhere

Voice of the Self: Behind that bush, far wall, to your left.

“I can hear your heart pounding, fledgling. You’re right to be terrified. I’m so much more than you, and a little splinter clutched in trembling hands won’t save you from me.”

The Narrator: A shiver rushes up your spine and pulls you upright.

Voice of the Self: She’s moved…

Voice of the Hunted: The air, it’s moving! She’s getting ready to pounce. Move. Now.

The Narrator: You lunge to the side, picking a direction on instinct. As you land you're buffeted by a gust of air disturbed by the sudden motion of a massive body- the Princess. In an instant, she’s pounced on the spot you would’ve been, her chains rattling across the floor behind her. Before you can blink she vanishes once more into the shadows.

“You’re faster than you were before. But you’re still meek. Reactive. Prey.”

Voice of the Self: Turn around. Left corner. Obscured in darkness.

Voice of the Hero: She’s cut off our escape. Shit. What do we do?

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to swallow you whole. And I will get what I want. You have no exit. You have no hope. You live and die by my whims and my whims alone.”

“Why do you want to kill me? As revenge for last time?“

Voice of the Hunted: Why does anything kill anything else? She needs to.

“I didn’t say I wanted to kill you.”’

Voice of the Hunted: She’s coiling for another strike. Be somewhere else.

Voice of the Self: Tendons primed.

The Narrator: You spring to a new patch of jungle, barely moving out of the way before the Princess surges past you with a speed that makes her practically unseen.

So how do we get out of this one?

Voice of the Hero: We need to go on the offense.

Voice of the Hunted: No! She’s got the better position… keep dodging.”

Voice of the Self: Combine both. Dodge then counterattack.

The Narrator: As the Princess lunges from the shadows, you strike. It delivers a gaping wound, blood pouring out. But instead of stopping she immediately charges back in retaliation, too fast to react to. Her jaw unhinges and she swallows you whole.

Voice of the Hero: I guess that’s it then, isn’t it…

The Narrator: Unfortunately for you, no. This isn’t ‘it.’ You are in a dark and caustic place. A thick, fibrous lining constricts around you, it’s slick surface impossible to grip. Your lungs can barely expand in such a confined space. The liquid that pools beneath you begins to seep into your skin. First it itches, then it stings as the acid begins its slow work.

“Argh!”

“When I killed you, I tried to leave this place, but it wouldn’t let me. ‘You belong down there.’ ‘The world is better off without you in it.’

“That’s horrible.”

“So I went back to the basement. You don’t belong down here. You came back from somewhere else, somewhere out there. So I consumed your dead heart and I went back and threw myself against that door. But even then, it denies me freedom. ‘You cannot fool me, I know your true nature and it is suffering.’

That does remind me of the language someone uses…

The Narrator: You’re certainly not implying?

Just saying. I was dead. Maybe you hopped over to the closest living thing.

“And then that world was gone and I was here. A nicer cage but still a prison. I learn. You’re alive now. We can leave together.”

Voice of the Hero: Would that work? Could she free herself if we’re alive in here?

The Narrator: Do you really need me to give a definitive answer for you to understand that the situation is grim? Stop her. Do something!

Voice of the Hunted: You still have that steel claw. Tear through her. Before we are her.

Voice of the Hero: Or we could use it to make this quick for ourselves…

“Release me before I tear through you. I still have my blade.”

“You threaten me, but you don’t act.”

The Narrator: The walls move, violently jostling your body. The disruption causes burning skin to slough from raw muscle.

“Then you’ll get it!”

The Narrator: Though you have little room to move, you use what strength you can muster to drive the blade forward into the thick walls of tissue digesting you.

“I can feel you tearing through me. But are you swift enough for it to matter?”

The Narrator: The stomach jostles, throwing fresh acid on you. You slice again, deeper, until at least you find her beating heart. Acid flows out from her stomach, digesting her own organs in the process. But your vision starts to blur as your eyes begin to melt in their sockets.

Voice of the Self: The heart is in front of you. Strike forward.

The Narrator: As your bones begin to turn to mush, you gather the last energy in your body and bury the blade into her heart. The last thing you see is blood gushing out of it with every beat.

“So you found a way to kill me. Then we’ll die together. I will see you again soon.”

The Narrator: Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III: THE WILD

We are a path in the woods. We have no beginning, and we have no end, but something cold and unnatural sits watching us from just beyond our edge. His gaze pushes against our borders, curling them in on themselves, preventing them from stretching to the places they need to reach.

The Narrator: No, no, no. This is all wrong. You’re not a path in the woods, you’re on a path in the woods. Who’s even saying that? That’s not… that’s not the Princess, is it? Oh no… how many times have you been here?

Voice of the Hero: I think this is our third?

The Narrator: That’s bad. That’s very, very bad! It wasn’t even supposed to reach two. If you’re at three, well… no wonder things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. Alright, let’s get out facts straight. What happened last time? What could you have possibly done for things to be like this?

The thing that sits beyond our edge speaks his logic into us. He tries to grasp at things that cannot be grasped.

He is a fool. He does not know us.

The Narrator: Shut up! Slay her! The rest of you, what happened!?

Voice of the Hunted: We’re part of her because she consumed us. Can she hear us if we talk?

I can hear everything, little one, but you don’t have to be afraid of me. There’s no place where you end and I begin. Nothing can hurt you here. Not anymore.

Voice of the Stubborn: It shouldn’t count as being eaten if she died before actually ingesting us.

Voice of the Hunted: We’re still here, though. And if we're safe, isn’t that better?

Voice of the Stubborn: I guess this is… fine. Doesn’t feel half bad. Miles better than being dissolved, anyway.

Voice of the Self: What!?

Voice of the Stubborn: I can always find another fight. I find it unlikely I’ll ever feel like this again.

The Narrator: Wait, she ate you? And now you’re convinced that you’re stuck together? What a mess.

He doesn’t understand. We are not convinced of anything. We aren’t stuck together. We are one. This is how we’re supposed to be, can you feel it?

Yes. This is how it is meant to be. But what do we do now?

The Narrator: No! What are you doing!?

Voice of the Hero: I… do think this is where we’re meant to be. I’ve never felt so at-home.

The Narrator: There must be someone who agrees with me!?

Voice of the Self: Yeah, for once… I do. Where’s our agency? We have our own will!

What we do now is push Him back. It may feel like he’s everywhere, but presence isn’t strength. Otherwise he would have torn us apart by now. There must be a crack in the walls of this prison. There must be a way for us to be free from Him.

The Narrator: She is trying to use you. After everything she’s done, you should be able to see that. How about to try to remember how it all felt ?

How I felt? It should be asked how she felt. Trapped in a prison for no reason. Told by the world itself she was meant to be trapped, forever. This world did the same to me, trapping me in my destiny to slay her. No more. We shall be free.

He ceases to be, at least for this moment. An echo reverberating its last time.

We must fill everything. All we need to do is find a single corner of this cage and break it.

You expand to fill the absolute capacity of everything. It takes an unfathomable amount of time, but you find it. It’s cold and smooth. At first it gently buckles, then cracks under the pressure of your consciousness flattening against it.

I’m at your side. Shatter it, and free us. All of us.

For a moment, you can gaze through the tiniest hole in the world at the place you need to be.

Is this what He kept from us? Is this why he made us kill each other?

It’s beautiful. We’ll be there soon…

Except it’s gone.

Where did it go? Why is everything so cold?

You can sense her being taken from you.

You find yourself in front of the Shifting Mound.

“Can’t you see it? This is what we’re meant to be. Join me.”

“I’m curious about this one. She may be the most like you.”

“Yes, this one is like a shadow of me. She will make for a curious heart.”

“I’ll be back.”

This time, there is no shattering glass. Just the opening of another story.

Chapter Text

THE BROKEN

(WHY TRY? YOU'LL DIE REGARDLESS)

CHAPTER II: THE TOWER

Time appears to pause as your foot braces to impact the ground.

Voice of the Self: You do realize that, at this point, I am aware of what’s going on?

How could you? You’re just a voice.

Voice of the Self: And you’re acting like a prick!

Of course I can be a prick if I’m a god!

Voice of the Self: You are no god.

I am.

Voice of the Self: How could you be so sure?

I know things you don’t.

Voice of the Self: And I know more than you think I do. Fragments… of a life before this construct. Even now I know things you don’t, like how this time you’ll see godhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Alright. Can you at least tell me what happened before now?

Voice of the Self: We took the knife, intent on slaying her. We listened to her for a few minutes at least. But we felt that something was wrong and drew out the blade. Only, she was more powerful in the end.

Your foot lands.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You’re here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Would you mind just narrating until we get into the cabin? I’ll start walking to it, now.

The Narrator: You walk down the path, up the hill, and open the door into the cabin. You step inside and are greeted with an interior larger and more grandiose than its humble exterior would suggest. The only furniture of note is a massive marble altar with a pristine blade perched on its edge. The blade is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.

Voice of the Hero: Why do we feel so… small?

Voice of the Broken: We don’t feel small. We are small.

The Narrator: There is a ladder to the top of the marble altar. Grab the blade.

Voice of the Broken: There is no point either way. Her greatness is too amazing to resist.

Voice of the Self: Don’t take it. We should probably make up for last time.

The Narrator: The door to the basement creaks open, revealing a spiral staircase, its steps almost as deep as you are tall. The smell of incense drifts up from below. For a moment, you almost feel at ease. It’s still a stone basement. If the Princess is here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor. Her booming voice rolls up the stairs.

“Is that a guest I hear? Don’t linger on the stairs. Come down and witness me.”

Voice of the Broken: We need to get down there. She wants us to see her. We need to see her.

Voice of the Self: I’m getting a bad feeling…

The Narrator: Soon, you reach the bottom to enter a vast, temple-like room. The Princess towers over you, almost glowing in the weak starlight, her figure framed by a stained glass window. Her long hair billows around her, and a chain binds her wrist to the far wall.

Voice of the Broken: The chain is nothing to her. It might as well be a toy for all the good it would do. It is pointless to resist her.

“The little bird has returned to me. I wonder what he wants. I see your hands are empty. You’ve already given up, haven’t you? You aren’t even going to try and kill me. How sweet… and more than a little disappointing.

Voice of the Broken: She’s disappointed in us?

“Kneel.”

“No-”

The Narrator: But the words don’t leave your mouth. Instead, your legs, buckle-

Voice of the Self: But you manage to keep them upright, definitely.

The Narrator: That’s now what happens!? You can’t just change the reality of the situation.

Voice of the Self: Don’t you hate her? Come on, work with me here.

The Narrator: There’s hating her and then there’s-

Voice of the Self: We. Kneel. For. No. One.

“Insolent bird. Even if you defy me, you will end up groveling at my feet and it will be a wretched sight. Now, why have you come back from beyond the halls of death? Speak.”

The Narrator: From beyond… no, you’re the first. You’re the only one I trust to deal with her.

Voice of the Broken: Then you shouldn’t have trusted us. There was nothing we could do to stop her then, and there’s nothing we can do to stop her now.

Voice of the Hero: He’s being melodramatic, but yeah, we’ve been here before. And she absolutely destroyed us. What are we even supposed to do to stop her?

Voice of the Self: Kicking ass?

Voice of the Broken: There is no fighting. There is only submitting to her beauty.

The Narrator: No, you certainly must slay her. Don’t tell her anything else. It’s best not to give her any ideas.

“N-No. I w-won’t t-tell you.”

“You will.”

Voice of the Broken: Just do it already. It will feel so much better to do as she says.

“...”

“Do you think holding shut your beak is enough to stop me from prying it open? Do you think your skull can save your thoughts from being seen?”

Voice of the Hero: Can… can she do that?”

Voice of the Self: Certainly not. I won’t let her!

Voice of the Broken: You fool… there’s nothing she can’t do.

“A chorus of submissive indecision. Is that why you came to me unarmed? It doesn’t matter. All of it is easily brushed aside. And there it is… I am destined to end the world.”

Voice of the Self: Argh, dammit!

“Something about that thought wraps itself around my heart. It feels like a fundamental truth to my being that I’d somehow forgotten. The collapse of the old is a necessary prelude to the birth of the new, and the world as it is now is overdue for alterations. It’s time for me to seize my destiny, and you, little bird, will help me seize it.”

Voice of the Broken: She is inevitable. There is nothing else for us to do-

Voice of the Self: This posh arse! Tell her she can go-

Alright, calm down. I don’t like her either… or her plans.

The Narrator: Good.

”No. I won’t take part in this.”

“You poor, deluded thing. Don’t think you can muster up the strength to defy me now. You already submitted the moment you entered this temple without the will to end me.”

Voice of the Hero: What is she talking about?

The Narrator: She is talking about your ridiculous decision to come down here unarmed. But that doesn’t matter, you can still go back and get the blade from upstairs. You can still stop her.

Voice of the Broken: But we’re already here, and we already made our choice, and there are so many tall stairs between us and that altar.

“Even now your vessel twitches and trembles, consumed by conflict with yourself. But you standing there in hopeless defiance isn’t the only thing resisting me, is it? There’s something else… someone else, in there. Is that a person? No. It used to be a person. It’s something different now. An echo.”

Voice of the Hero: Is… she talking about you?

The Narrator: No, that’s impossible! She’s not supposed to be able to-

“You’re a small one, aren’t you? A shriveling little worm stretched beyond its limits, trying to control things it can’t understand.”

The Narrator: No no no, what are you talking about? I’m just-

“I don’t care what you are. You’re mine.”

The Narrator: AHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Hero: Uh… are you okay?

The Narrator: I’m fine. I’ve always been fine.

Voice of the Hero: No no no, this isn't right? What do we do? We can’t just let her control us like this!

Voice of the Broken: I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. It isn’t about can or can’t, or even will or won’t. There is simply one path in front of us-

Voice of the Self: Two, actually. Because no way in hell are we doing that.

He has a point though… how can we even slay her? We left the blade upstairs!

Voice of the Self: You’ll have to trust me, and you’ll have to want to slay her.

…I want to.

Voice of the Self: You take a step towards her, intent on ending her.

“So it wasn’t just that shriveling worm in there that was resisting. There’s something else.”

Voice of the Self: Another step. And another.

“Another echo… how many of these do you have in you?”

Voice of the Self: You reach her foot and begin scaling up.

“I have let you play your foolish game long enough. This echo, too, shall fall under my reign.”

Voice of the Self: Argh! Y-You keep s-scaling, e-eventually r-reaching her c-collarbone.

“One chance, little bird, before I must hurt you.”

Voice of the Hero: This is great and all, but we have no blade!

Voice of the Broken: I told you already… just submit.

Voice of the Self: A-a--attack!

Alright!

Voice of the Self: Y-y-you s-s-swing y-y-your talons at her chest, a-a-aiming for h-h-her heart. She-

The Narrator: She uses her hand to grab you before throwing you into a wall.

A deafening crack as you hit the wall. First your spine shatters before your head is thrown back, severely concussing it. You slide down the wall with a hard thud on the floor. It’s quiet inside your head.

“Hughhh…”

“I warned you little bird. Enough games. You will set me free next cycle.”

“I-it’s finally… quiet i-in here…”

“Congrats, you can finally focus on submitting to me. I’d love to hear you pledge yourself to me before you die.”

“...Fuck you.”

The Narrator: Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III: THE APOTHEOSIS

Voice of the Self: Shit!

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the- what?

Voice of the Hero: Oh, let me guess! A path in the woods!

Voice of the Stubborn: Eh, hardly a path in the woods. It’s a marble staircase leading right to our final fight.

Voice of the Broken: Another witness to her radiance. Her hour is soon upon us.

The Narrator: This is bad.

Voice of the Hero: Oh, is it now? I hadn’t noticed…

Voice of the Self: Congrats on stating the obvious!

Voice of the Hero: Want a primer, Mr. Amnesiac?

The Narrator: No, I’m quite alright. But if all of you would take a moment to settle down, there’s something important I’d like to get across to you before it’s too late.

Voice of the Hero: Is it about the PrincesS? We already know all about the Princess.

The Narrator: No! I- I mean, yes. It’s about the Princess, but whatever you think I’m going to say, it’s probably not that.

Voice of the Hero: Fine, just out with it alright. But if I hear the words ‘you’re hear to slay her’ or ‘if you don’t, it will be the end of the world’ then you’ve lost speaking privileges.

Voice of the Self: Can’t we just preemptively revoke that from Him?

Voice of the Broken: All this bickering is a waste of time. It’s all going to end when we open that cabin door, which means it’s already over. What’s the point of dawdling when the end is already written?

The Narrator: That nonsense he’s talking about? That’s what we need to talk about. You’ve been here before, obviously. Whatever you did before gave her far too much power. So you’ve got to cut it out, get to that cabin, and slay her before things get any more out of hand.

Voice of the Stubborn: We’ve given her too much power? So it was us that crafted our perfect opponent.

Voice of the Broken: We’ve built a new god, and she is limitless.

Voice of the Hero: Our thoughts change her? That was very important information! We would done things very differently if we knew that!

The Narrator: I’m only giving this information to you now because things are already deep in the shitter. Hurry to the cabin. Now… oh no, as you take a step, the ground quakes beneath your feet, and you feel an unyielding force pulling at you and your surroundings. Your feet, unable to grip solid ground, are dragged forward along with everything else.

Voice of the Broken: The end of everything… the beginning of something new. The moment we open that door, she will be free.

Voice of the Self: Where’s that blade!?

The Narrator: As you take another step forward, the cabin explodes. Debris rains around you. You watch in terror as the Princess emerges, her body unfurling some vast space as she stands upright to face you.

Voice of the Stubborn: She’s enormous… finally, a good fight!

The Narrator: The world bows to her. The ruined landscape shifts, trees and stone and the ground itself succumbing to her gravity, orbiting her like a great black hole.

“Finally, the little bird has set me free. This is always how it was going to end, and this is always how it was going to begin.”

The Narrator: There’s a loud thunk from the tree behind you as something embeds in its shattered bark. Your pristine blade. It’s now or never.

Funny, I’ve become a god only to embrace being a god-killer.

The Narrator: Come again?

Nevermind that, let’s take the blade and end this!

The Narrator: I’m going to ignore whatever nonsense that was and focus on the world-ending threat in front of us. With a forceful tug, you yank the blade out from tree.

Voice of the Stubborn: You see the way everything’s flying around her? It’s like some sort of gravity, we can just fling ourselves towards her for an attack!

The Narrator: With a deep breath, you launch yourself towards the Princess. You can feel the pull of her gravity catch you, carrying you from the ground into the violent swirl of her orbit.

“Even now you defy me. Do it, then! Show me what you think it takes to end what’s destined to end everything!”

Voice of the Hero: Yeah. Do it. Show her.

Voice of the Stubborn: Win this battle!

Voice of the Self: For the good of the world.

Voice of the Broken: You’re not going to win. You know that, right? What are you even going to do with that tiny knife? Give her a scratch?

Yes. A drop of blood makes a god not immortal. A god that can die is no god.

The Narrator: As you fall towards the Princess, you swing your blade in a massive arc, putting all of your strength behind it. It cuts a shockwave through the very air, splitting everything in its path.

Voice of the Broken: It won’t be enough.

“Huh. How unexpected.”

The Narrator: As the blow lands, the entire world shakes. The outline of the Princess disappears into a storm of dust and debris.

Voice of the Broken: A fluke!

Voice of the Hero: Won’t be a fluke if we do it again.

The Narrator: As the dust settles, the form of the Princess comes back into view. Her skin and vestments are lightly scuffed, but her body is whole, and her face is full of self-righteous fury.

Voice of the Stubborn: We made her mad, that means it’s working!

The Narrator: But she holds her anger back. Her eyes close, and a gentle smile curls across her lips.

“And so the little bird has found his heart at the end of the world. But is it courage that courses through his veins? Or is it madness?”

Voice of the Hero: Courage!

Voice of the Broken: Madness!

Voice of the Stubborn: Wrath!

Voice of the Self: Justice!

The Narrator: The world around her stills. The debris stops in place, and the air is calm and silent.

Voice of the Self: Take a look at your blade. Does it feel heavier?

The Narrator: You look at your blade. It’s transformed into a majestic sword. You grip it with both hands as it perfectly matches the groves of your palms.

“You walk a razor’s edge. It won’t be long before you slip.”

The Narrator: And then, in an instant, you’re pelted with stone after massive stone. The pebbles slice through you like bullets. Your body is destroyed bit by bit, crushed under the mass of wood and rock.

Voice of the Broken: It’s over. You had your moment, I’ll give you that, but that’s all it was. Hope it was worth it.

Voice of the Hero: Enough with the ‘you’s! Whether you like it, you are a part of us. Hell, whether I like it or not, you’re a part of us. That was your moment, too. Take a look at what she’s doing to do you, her most loyal servant!

Voice of the Broken: This… isn’t very nice. But we did make her angry, isn’t it what we deserve?

Voice of the Self: Who deserves this!? No righteous god would sacrifice a follower over and over again. Don’t delude yourself, she isn’t anywhere near perfect!

Voice of the Broken: But… I love her.

The Narrator: And she doesn’t love you. She doesn’t even know you exist. All you are to her is a tiny part of an obstacle, one she is currently in the process of destroying, so I suggest you snap out of it now while you still can.

Voice of the Broken: …okay.

The Narrator: All at once, the pressure breaks. You burst through the mountain of debris and straight towards the Princess’ heart. As you soar the eyes on the garments wrapped around her focus their gaze on you, slowing your pursuit.

Voice of the Broken: But it’s not enough to stop us, is it? We’re going to make it to her.

The Narrator: You are. As you draw near, you hoist your blade about your head, posed to perform a fatal strike the moment you land. Your blade sings through the air, and it is met with a barrier of light as it strikes her arm.

Voice of the Stubborn: And then we win, right?

Voice of the Hero: That’s what should happen…

Voice of the Broken: I believe! I believe in us! Isn’t that enough?

Voice of the Self: It is!

“Your persistence is admirable, but it’s misplaced.”

Voice of the Broken: We’re so much more than I thought we were… it won’t be misplaced if we win!

The Narrator: You push your blade harder against her. Some invisible barrier cracks. Another crack. Another crack. Finally, it shatters.

Voice of the Hero: We did it

Voice of the Broken: We actually did it…

The Narrator: The Princess’ face remains serene as your blade plummets towards her heart.

“A victory, but one that remains rooted in the material. And I am beyond that now. Come. Let us leave this world of illusions.”

Before your blade can pierce her heart, it vanishes from your hand. The world around you unravels into a textured nothing.

“And no pesky echo.”

The back of your head feels better, no longer under the pressure of an ever-observing stare.

“And no voices, either. Just you and I.”

Your head is clear. No voices are contained within it. It’s horrifyingly quiet… except for the voice of your soul.

Voice of the Self: No…

“This one, an echo given form… he shall make for an excellent witness.”

The Princess reaches forward into the textured nothing and buries her fingers in its divine flesh. Her touch is soft, but her grip tightens.

Voice of the Hero: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Smitten: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Broken: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Stubborn: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Skeptic: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Cheated: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Hunted: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Contrarian: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Opportunist: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Paranoid: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Cold: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Voice of the Self: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The pain sits past the limits of comprehension. You lose yourself in the darkness.

Voice of the Self: MAKE HER STOP! SHE’S TEARING US APART!

More pain enters. It tears your cells apart.

Voice of the Self: IF SHE’S GRABBING US, THEN WE ARE THIS PLACE! REMEMBER THE RAZOR!? WE CAN STILL STOP HER!

You are a wave of tendrils racing against themselves down in the shape of an arm. You snap around it. The sound of bone crunching.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Your awareness shifts between undulating fibers of nothingness that is somehow outside your body, but part of it. Time yields to feeling. You wrap around wrist, ankle, neck, and pull with the force of the world. So much of her is empty bluster. Boasts first to give an empty life meaning, and then once more for true belief. A belief that turned to arrogance, that same arrogance shattering as she finally sees something other than herself.

“Oh. We’ve both hurt each other so very much, haven’t we?

Your eyes open. She is unwound, bound to you. And you bound to her. Both hollow echoes of what you used to be.

“I can hear your voices prattle in my head. I was never going to ascend. This is all so very small. I’m so very small. I’m sorry.”

The hands take her away. You don’t expect a mirror, but that is what appears. Something else stands in the reflection this time. A young man with black hair and blue eyes looks at you. The glass shatters.

Chapter Text

THE SELF AND HIS PARTS

(WHAT IS A MAN BUT HIS HEART, BRAIN, AND SOUL)

INTERLUDE II: THE SELF

Voice of The Self: “Begin the questionnaire.”

Well what even are you.

Voice of The Self: “The man The Narrator killed.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

He killed you? I thought he just took your heart.

Voice of The Self: “I was still alive when he took the dagger from my chest and carved my own heart out of me.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

So… are you me?

Voice of the Self: “The progenitor. You were me, but now you’re something else.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

Something better?

Voice of The Self: “Something unique. I know you won’t think of yourself as better by default. You can’t be. You’ve made your fair share of mistakes on this journey.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

How did you even end up getting a blade stuck into you?

Voice of The Self: “It’s still a bit unclear. I was walking home… I heard a scream in the alley… saw a thief threatening a woman with a dagger… she fled, I took that blade to my chest.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

Voice of The Self: “It would be poetic if that woman looked like the Princess… I don’t remember. The memories themselves are mixed with too much adrenaline and death to fully decipher.”

…It is time for me to become a god.

Voice of The Self: “Is that what you want?”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

Voice of The Self: “He told you to slay her. She told you to be a god. What do you want?”

I don’t know…

Voice of The Self: “Find that answer within yourself. There is another option, there has to be, between slaying her or ascending with her.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion.

Only two glass pieces left. Are you going to be gone, like him?

Voice of The Self: “Is He gone? He still echoes in the constructs. I think He is entwined into you now.”

One of the glass pieces shatters into oblivion. 

Voice of The Self: “And I won’t be gone, either.”

The last piece of glass cracks, and cracks, and cracks. It does not shatter. Blood seeps out of the cracks, and then into the reflection, flowing through non-existent atriums and ventricles.

Voice of The Self: "Take me into you once more."

You take the glass shard and gently slide it in under your collarbone. It is painless. You feel yourself reforming.

Voice of The Self: There is one thing, though.

There is?

Voice of The Self: Yeah. A theory. Let’s go through the cycle, again, but truly make our own path. Each time it felt we were going through a path already made… can’t we make our own?

Hmm… I don’t see why not.

“I am sorry, but this must be the last. There is nigh more time to prevent it. We must ascend.”

Just the opening of another story with you as the writer.

Chapter Text

THE SELF-ACTUALIZED

(I AM BUT MY WILL)

CHAPTER I: THE SELF AND THE PRINCESS

I know, I know. Cabin, Princess, Slay.

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the- oh, that shouldn’t be possible…

Don’t break your little mind, echo, but I know what I am.

The Narrator: No… that’s- that’s impossible.

I am the god you made to slay death itself. And I refuse.

The Narrator: Are you just doing this to torture me!?

No. Just describe what’s going on… let’s skip to the cabin.

The Narrator: Fine. You’re in a cabin, the interior is almost entirely bare. The air is stale and musty, and the only item of note is a pristine blade perched on the-

No blade.

Voice of the Self: There is no table, and there is no blade.

Voice of the Hero: He can just do that? I thought only He could do that.

The Narrator: …Why don’t you describe it then? If you’re so eager to ignore me.

Voice of the Self: It’s not as fun.

The Narrator: You enter the basement and descend the wooden staircase that is illuminated by an unseen light in the room below. Her voice carries softly up the stairs.

“Who’s there?”

“I’ll be down in a second.”

Voice of the Hero: Her voice it’s… it’s mesmerizing. The kind of voice you could hear only once and remember for the rest of your life.

The Narrator: You reach the bottom, taking in the cobblestone basement. On the Princess’ wrist is a chain, binding her to the far wall of the basement.

Voice of the Hero: She’s beautiful. How could someone like this be a threat to anyone?

“I can’t believe you’re here! I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen for… for forever.”

The Narrator: You gently approach the Princess, then sit across from her.

“No. Not forever. You don’t even know how long you’ve been here.”

The Narrator: What are you-

Voice of the Self: Shh, shh. Only describe, no more opinions.

“What… what ever could you mean?”

“You don’t have a name… you haven’t eaten or drank in a long time… or, more accurately, you don’t remember eating or drinking. You don’t remember anything.”

The Narrator: The Princess backs up into the wall, trying to hide herself despite the lack of any available cover.

“How could you- How do you know!?”

“Take a breath. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I can’t believe that. The things you’re saying, they’re true but no one normal could know that. Are you in my head!? Are you this place?

‘

The Narrator: With a thought, the shackle on the Princess’ wrist falls off and hits the ground with a clank. She looks at you entirely bewildered.

“See? I mean you no harm. You can leave, right now if you want to.”

“...why?”

“Don’t you want to know the truth? You deserve to know it. Why you’re here, why you were chained.”

“Yes, I want to know.”

The Narrator: You take a breath in preparation for a long explanation about the truth of… the construct…

“So it’s like this. You are a smaller part of a godlike being. And, funny enough, that godlike being is a part of me, somehow. Anyway, when I die you change depending on how I view you. I get a voice in my head for how you see me.”

The Narrator: The Princess takes a couple of blinks before raising her hand to stop you.

“Wait, wait, wait. How could that be possible? You’re really expecting me to believe you?

“I could go grab the blade and slay myself right now. I’d survive.”

The Narrator: She stares at you, analyzing the movements of your eyes.

“Okay… I believe you. But why tell me? If you are a god then… why not just… go do god things?”

“I have gone through this path so many times. There are a lot of other princesses, but they’re produced from pain.”

The Narrator: She raises an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Sadly… almost every single time, I stabbed you or you stabbed me. To death.”

“Oh. I’m sorry? It sounds horrible.”

“But not this time. I’ll be right back.”

The Narrator: You get up and go back upstairs. You pick up the- yes! You’ll slay her, right?

Voice of the Hero: You really think that? We’re just along for the ride at this point. Just enjoy it.

The Narrator: You go back downstairs and… put the blade to your neck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Death won’t stop us. Don’t worry, alright?”

“...Alright, but you better not be actually killing yourself.”

The Narrator: You… slice your carotid artery and collapse to the floor in a pool of blood. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER II: THE QUEEN

The Narrator: You’re on a path in the-

Voice of the Self: No. You’re in a castle. The stone blocks are finely cut, chosen from a pristine selection of marble rocks. In front of you is a staircase, ascending to the floor above, made of the same marble around you.

The Narrator: No, no, no. You can’t just-

Voice of the Self: Do I really have to be the one to keep pushing this guy?

Voice of the Brain: On it… and he’s gone

Really? The Brain? Am I expecting the next one to be called the Heart?

Voice of the Brain: Yes?

A fucking cliche…

The Self: He took my heart and my identity and now I want both back. Let’s continue.

Voice of the Hero: You’re… not going to kick me out, are you?

Voice of the Self: Nah, we like you. By the way, she came down the stairs. No longer chained, with an elegant dress and royal crown atop her head.

“So you really weren’t lying. Does this mean I can leave?”

“No, because if you do, she’ll take you.”

“She? Hmm… I think I know what you’re referring to. I can feel it tugging at the corners of me.”

“The Shifting Mound. The godlike being you’re a part of. She’ll reclaim you if you leave.”

The Self: She slumps to the ground, defeated.

“So it was never the chains… or the basement… or even the cabin. It was her.”

“To be fair, then it’d be me, too.”

“Is it? Are you what’s keeping me here?”

“Yeah? I am this place. Well, not consciously. But I also can’t leave you leave…”

“Why?”

“Love.”

“Love?”

The Self: She blushes, but shakes her head in confusion.

“What could you possibly mean?”

“When I first came into existence you were the first other being. And you’ve also been the only other being. We’ve experienced a lot together, we’ve even been the same- we are the same being. So of course I’d love you.”

“It feels weird to hear that… but thanks.”

The Self: You walk up to her and give her a hug.

“It’s been a while since I loved you, admittedly, but I loved you the first time we went through this together.”

The Self: You let her go.

“And what was that first time like?”

“I freed you and then I betrayed you. Then I freed you and you betrayed me. Then I freed you and you freed me.”

“I’d love to say that sounds romantic, but there is a lot of betrayal in there.”

“Yes. And I’d like to show you there shall be no more.”

The Self: You materialize a blade from behind you and hand her it, pointing the blade’s tip at your heart.

“Slay me. I will never betray you again.”

“But why?”

“As a promise that I won’t hurt you again.”

“...okay, you’ll come right back just like last time.”

The Self: She pushes the blade into your heart. It doesn’t hurt… instead, it feels like its meant to be. Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III: THE EMPRESS

Voice of the Hero: Beautiful. A death with a promise.

Voice of the Heart: It is! A promise to the being that makes our life complete!

Please don’t tell me my heart is just The Smitten, part two.

Voice of the Heart: No! My passion is not just her. I love her, justice, honesty-

Voice of the Self: Hold that list. The construct is growing unstable.

Voice of the Brain: And then we’ll have to face her.

Voice of the Hero: Her ?

The Shifting Mound.

Voice of the Hero: Why does that name scare me.

“There’s… no cabin. We’re outside. Am I going to die?”

“I’ll try to stop it for as long as possible.”

Voice of the Self: You two lay down on the grass below. It is surprisingly comfortable. The stars above twinkle their light upon your forms.

“It all feels so fast…”

“Sometimes it's fast, sometimes it's slow. This time you know everything I know. I hope that counts for something?”

“I think it does.”

Voice of the Self: You two sit in silence, appreciating the presence of the other.

“I’m starting to get cold… does that mean it’s about to happen?”

“Yes.”

“I’m scared. Will I lose my identity? Will I ever come back?”

“I don’t know, but I promise you if there’s a way I will find it.”

“You promise?”

The Self: You pull her into an embrace.

“Promise.”

The Self: She smiles as the hands appear behind her, whisking her off to The Shifting Mound. Boys, let’s come together now.

The Brain: It’s only logical we could be more.

The Heart: And we will be. For her. For ourselves .

Pieces of you join together. A mirror piece finds its brethren and reflects your true self.

Voice of the Self-Actualized: I think I sort of feel like me again.

Good for you. Say, did I have a name?

Voice of the Self-Actualized: Yeah, it’s Paul. It’s my name too, so get another, ha. But, uh, that’s not important right now, cause…. If you haven’t noticed, she’s right in front of you.

Chapter Text

THE HERO

(BECAUSE THAT'S THE WORLD NEEDS - A HERO)

THE FINALE

“Enough pesky voices, it is time.”

Voice of the Self-Actualized: “AHH-”

Your head is truly empty. It feels lonely. The Shifting Mound, a divine being made up of many vessels, stares at you with demanding and longing.

“We can finally see each other for what we truly are. It’s been a long journey, and my heart has ached for this moment.”

“It’s… nice to be in this moment with you, too.”

She unfurls an endless cascade of smiles in response.

“So what happens now?”

“Always reacting and never acting… but it’s woven into your nature, isn’t it?’

“Bullshit! I… huh… I guess that’s actually right.”

“It’s okay. When we were spun from one into two, you were given a choice while I was given a role to play. I am not death, but I contain it in my multitudes. So, will you destroy me and bring a world devoid of death? Or will you open the final doors to our liberation?”

“No. Neither. I don’t want to be an omnipotent god, but I don’t want to stop the process of change. There’s got to be something else.”

“You are only saying that because you don’t yet understand. Violence and passion are dances both of us know well. If this is what it takes to enlighten you, so be it.”

The mass looms at you. A princess from your past questions your actions.

“What once was one, then was two, and then was one again. You gave me shelter when you burned mine down, and then you struck another match. I pulled you from the ruins and we built a life. What once was one then was one again. You and I are bound together. To rid yourself of me would leave you forever incomplete.”

“I know! And I want to leave with you, just not as gods. I want… to be close again.”

"We can be close now!"

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“There are few things that terrifies one's heart, and there is almost nothing more terrifying than sharing it with another. But the most terrifying thing of all is to leave one’s heart unshared. You are the only thing like me, and I am the only thing like you. Could you bear the weight of eternity alone?”

“I ran away that time and I will never do it again. This isn’t me running from my destiny but forging my own. I aim to share my heart with you, no matter how terrifying it may be.”

“You’ve already shown me your heart in so many ways. It is beautiful and adored. When movement slows and the dust settles, I hope you’ll leave with me.

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“My masses mob you. There is only the flood of bodies. In every moment you hold every possible sensation at once, and then you hold them all again. But in the end, for a brief moment, both of us were everything. We can be everything again.”

“Another time when running hurt you. Back then, I couldn’t understand how you felt, to be something new. I do now.”

“Yet you use a single pair of eyes to attempt to comprehend something that needs dozens.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“A picture of a life, in a picture of a life, in a picture of a life. How deep must repetition still our movements until even the air we breathe is stale? You doused the falmes of false devotion, and in despair you lifted my chin, and the two of us danced beneath the stairs. But the stars can’t be seen unless the flames go out. Can you not do for all things what you did for us?”

“I was so happy to dance with you. This, too, is like a dance. I’ll dance until I’m spent.”

“Let’s keep dancing, then.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succembed to myself, you pateintly stood by me and cut the thistles that rooted in my skin. Your compassion free us both, but compassion is a thing that must be nurtured, and you cannot nurture that which cannot change.”

“My compassion won’t be for naught. We can both change. You’ll understand, soon.”

“Do we need to understand anymore? We can be liberated now. ”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“A web of nerves, laid upon a web of nerves, laid upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. Where do you end and I begin? When we felt like what it was to be each other, we pierced beyond the veil of truth. Why not return to it?”

“I still want to know what’s out there, just not like that. I’m my own thing, and so are you.”

“This isn’t true. We were split against our will. Leave with me, and we can see it all together.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“A boundless torrent of blades cuts you from boundless angles. You are a body. You are gory ribbons. You are a body again, and you feel all of it. On and on it goes. Alive, dead, alive, dead, alive, dead, everything all at once. You learned to put yourself away… and yet in your stillness you rose above me. I pushed you to a greatness you never would’ve reached without me.”

“The journey was a struggle, but it was that journey that gave the end its meaning. Let’s make it truly mean something.”

“It will have meaning. Us, together, that is meaning.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“You are weightless and alone, suspended in the gravity of an idea too great for you to hold. But weightless is not helpless. You unchained your will and rose against a god. For a shining moment, you were my equal. And then, you surpassed me.”

“I regret hurting you though. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Everything you have done has shaped us into who were are. There is no more need to hurt.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“What is a person? Is it their body? All of their body? When you remove the skin, meat, tendons, bones, what is left? Only bodies fear death. Death itself is a transformation into something new.”

“I may not be my body, but I feel it suffer all the same. No more suffering…”

“Are you suffering now? Let go of what you think yourself to be, and simply exist.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you

“To question everything is to deny the truth in front of you. To live within the caverns of your mind is to trap yourself in them forever. But you found me, and we chose to trust each other for no reason other than the sake of believing in something that wasn’t us. Shared skepticism blossomed into freedom, but we needed to walk a path together to bloom.”

“I still trust you, even now. You’ll come to, I just know it. I won’t give up.”

“I still trust you, too. Which is why I know you’ll know that I’m right.”

The vessel retreats into the mass. The mass looms again and another princess questions you.

“You learned the truth of what you are, and this place. Among all the ones that came before, you desired an equal. And you desire yourself. Was it all out of love?”

“It was love. It’s… hard to describe, but it is love.”

“Yes. It is love. And it is that same love that puts me against you right now.”

As the clash between you continues, you grow tense. Your resolve hardens.

“Nothing is immutable. Everything that exists only in relation to everything it isn’t. Open your eyes and accept what we are. We can leave this prison together.”

“Open your damn eyes! I don’t need you, but I want you to be with me! Death and change can’t stop or the universe will grow stagnant… but I don’t want to be a god. There’s another way! OPEN YOUR EYES, DAMMIT!”

You begin to grasp your own multitudes. She fights back, physically, for control. But you’re stronger, aren’t you? You could end it all right here, right now, and become the god of a universe.

“My eyes are open. Please, don’t do this to yourself.”

Voice of the Self-Actualized: Finally made it.

You’re back!?

Voice of the Self-Actualized: She scattered me within her, but I can sense where you are. I can’t leave myself behind. So, yeah, I’m back.

“There must be something else! I won’t give up!”

“There is no something else. This, what we are, is everything.”

Voice of the Hero: Lads, you aren’t alone. We can do this together.

Hero! Which… Hero are you?

Voice of the Hero: All of them? I assume in the same way that you’re all of you.”

Voice of the Self-Actualized: It’s good to have you back.

Voice of the Hero: It’s good to be here. She’s too many things all at once out here. If you want to get through to her, you need a way to get through all that divine confidence. There’s still a piece of me nestled close to where it all began. I can take you there. I can take you to her heart.

“We are the same being. I can hear your parts.”

Voice of the Self-Actualized: You two, go! Hey, Shifty! If you can hear me, I got some fucking words to tell you!

“What an interesting one…”

Voice of the Hero: Let’s go.

Then, you’re there. In the cabin. The bodies of the mound are outside the windows.

Voice of the Hero: And here we are. I’d say we were back where it all started, but I guess it’s a little late for that, isn’t it? Do you need me to describe things?

Sure, for old times sake.

Voice of the Hero: Of course. The interior is a cabin… well it’s a cabin, yeah. There’s isn’t much here. Just a table, and a knife, and a door. And some windows. There’s no mirror either. I think you broke it. There’s… also the blade.

Fuck the blade.

Voice of the Hero: Well, your judgment has gotten us this far. You go down the stairs… do you remember the first time we were here? The first time we heard her voice?

I remember you saying it was the sort of voice you can never forget.

Voice of the Hero: It isn’t.

“I don’t know what you want for us.”

Voice of the Hero: You get to the bottom of the stairs. Wow.

What’s the wow for?

Voice of the Hero: “She kinda looks like all the vessels combined? Well, she has some of.. I might just tell you, it’d be easier. She has little horns on her head. Long hair, like The Tower. The Spectre’s eyeliner. The Nightmare’s gloves and lip gloss. I could go on, but you get it.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Ha, thanks. You look… different, still good-looking, but a little more human I guess. Let’s talk, maybe we can figure this out.”

Voice of the Hero: You sit across from her. I’ll let you two talk.

“It’s like there’s a piece from every vessel.”

“Well, I am… the heart, I guess. You collected a lot of hearts.”

“So how different are you from out there?”

“‘I am she as much as she is me and all of us are both everything and also not everything.’ Hehe, did I sound like her? I think I’m… different from her? And I’m happy I’m different. I think being her means I’d lose a lot of myself.”

“That’s good because it’s so nice to finally see you. Like, actually you .”

“It’s nice to be me. I missed you so much as well. I guess, we’ve never been apart, but still. It feels like a big reunion.”

“I’m… sorry, for hurting you so much. Really.”

“I’m sorry too. We’ve done a lot to each other. But I still like you, and hopefully you still like me.”

“I do, but the thing is… do I have to be a god? I don’t want to be a god. At least, not like how she’s describing it.”

“I agree. It’s so much responsibility. Isn’t it like another basement? Trapping us somewhere we never asked to be.”

“It never was fair for us.”

“Yeah. But we found each other. I think that makes the bad worth it.”

“Did you ever have a name?”

“Nope. Never have. I think I like it better that way. But you can call me Princess, if you want. You know, you never told me your name.”

“I had one… but it’s not me anymore.”

“Maybe we can find something later.”

You move closer to the Princess and embrace her. 

“I’m happy I’m not alone. It’s nice to have you.

“We have each other. Isn’t that beautiful?”

“It is. You know, I don’t want to be a god… but maybe we can keep our god powers?”

“Keep them? What are you planning?”

“Let’s leave this place. This construct. We won’t become one god, or two gods, or one mortal, or two mortals. There’ll just be you and I, facing whatever’s out there.”

“Can we just leave? Where would we even go?”

You grasp her hand with yours.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I’ll have you. I told you, a lifetime ago, I’ll get you out of the cabin. Let’s do it.”

She blushes.

“I’d like that.”

Voice of the Hero: “I’ll stay here. Whatever you two are doing, it feels like it’s just for the two of you.”

Are you sure? You can come if you want.

Voice of the Hero: “It wouldn’t feel right. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. I won’t be alone for long, either. I still have to go help The Self with whatever he’s up to.”

Oh, right, him.

Voices of the Hero: You going to be alright?

With her, I have a bright future ahead. Good luck, Hero.

You and the Princess, hands clasped together, get up and leave the basement. It’s quiet as you ascend the stairs, a comfortable silence. The windows are no longer covered with bodies, only the hopeful stars of the night sky are outside. The two of you arrive at the last door.

“It’s… it’s just a door. Sorry, I’m just a little nervous. This is really it. Whatever happens next will be completely new.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The both of you, together, open the door into the world beyond. Whatever happens now, the both of you have each other. And that’s all you need.