Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     The stars twinkled above you as you rode your boat down the calm river, singing and humming your merry little shanties by the glow of your vessel's lantern. The air was filled with the droning chirps of crickets, filling you with a sense of peace. It was a quaint little town you lived in, nestled at the heart of Ebott Valley. The town was also relatively modern, enough to have cars, trucks, and other vehicles, so you didn't have much purpose as a transportation service. However, you knew that not everyone could afford a vehicle to drive to where they needed to go. So for those kinds of people, you happily lent a hand whenever you could--free of charge.

     The residents, you note, were mostly (if not all) monsters. You can't recall the last time you saw a human in these parts, if you ever did. Though there hadn't been any major conflicts between the two societies in spite of their differences, you still noticed the traces of segregational tension.

     Whether you, yourself, were a monster or human was hard to tell. You wore obscuring attire reminiscent of a medieval friar, in varied shades of muted purple--namely, a darker cowl that completely overshadowed your face, over lighter, loosely fitted robes that nearly touched the ground, a thin rope tied around your waist, as well as your hands and lower arms completely wrapped in faded cloth bandaging. And the way you spoke in a mildly raspy, almost androgynous-sounding voice certainly didn't help. You were almost an urban legend among the town's inhabitants, with how little else they knew about you. Nobody knew where you came from, how old you were, if you were male or female, or even your real name. You were simply a passerby through their lives, riding on your trusty wooden boat, helping those who need it.

     And thus, they dubbed you "the Riverman". It was a relatively generic title, but you rolled with it.

     Suddenly, you sensed a disturbance in the air. It sounded like the crying of a child. Now, you rarely left your boat while you weren't at home on a "day off", but it sounded serious. You slowed down, listening for the sound until it was close to earshot, and you stopped your boat. Lifting one foot, then the other, you disembarked to search for the source of this disturbance. You pushed past the once ashen-green reeds, who were now beginning to wither as autumn drew near. Then you made your way past the woodland outskirts of one of the town's main streets. Wandering down the shoulder of said street, you eventually come to a stop.

     There was a small, distraught monster girl on the other side of the street. A skeleton, to be exact. They were a pretty rare sight to see, even in a town like this. Her features were rather “anatomically accurate” as humans say, which was an even rarer sight–often a sign of significant prowess. She wore a rather fancy pink and white short-sleeved dress with a white sash tied into a bow in the back, a large-brimmed white sunhat with a black ribbon around its base and into a bow, and what seemed to be a pair of red rainboots peeking from underneath her skirt. She was crying into her little bony hands, all alone in the darkening night. You became concerned at the sight of this, wondering where the young one’s parents were. You cross the road to approach her, leaving faint, damp footprints on the cracked asphalt.

         "Tra la la... hello, there."

         "Sniff... huh?" the girl uttered, looking up from her hands.

         You crouched down toward her eye level.
         "What's the matter, little one? Are you lost?"

         "I... I'm scared. I want to go home." she replied, wiping away her tears.

         "I see. It is pretty late. Do you know where your house is?"

         "...Yeah." the girl replied.

     She walked towards the middle of the street, and pointed to the left.

         "It's that way." she said.

         "Ah."
         You stood back up. "I can take you home, if you'd like."

         The girl looked at the ground, seeming unsure.

         "...Don't you want to go home? Your parents must be worried sick."

         "...Okay." she conceded.

         "Alright then, follow me."

     You begin to go down the road in the appointed direction, but turned your head and stopped upon noticing that the girl wasn't following. She was twiddling her thumb bones, still looking unsure.

         "Hm? What's the matter now?"

         The girl looked at you nervously. "Wh... what if there are bad things out there? I don't want the bad things to get me."

     You thought to yourself for a moment, then you got an idea. You went back up to her, slipping your hands inside your hood to reach around your neck. You unfastened something that was hanging around your neck, and showed it to her. It was a string of beautiful, shiny, baby-blue pearls.

         "Here, you can borrow this."

         "What is it?" she asked.

         "This is a magical necklace, made of the finest blue pearls in the world. If you wear it, no evil shall harm you. It will keep you safe."

         The girl's eyesockets widened in interest.
         "C... can you help me put it on?"

         "Of course."

         You went behind the girl and looped the string around her neck, fastening it.
         "There we are... Oh drat, it's all tangled up."

         "It's okay. It wasn't your fault." she said.

     It wasn't your fault.
     For some reason, those words echoed in your mind.

         You adjusted the necklace.
         "There. All fixed."

         "Pretty!" the girl said, seeming to cheer up a bit.

         "Glad you like them."
         You walked back in front of her.
         "By-the-by, what's your name?"

         "...Arial." she replied.

         "Arial? That's... a lovely name."

         "Thanks." she muttered, looking away shyly.

         "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Arial. Now let's get you home. We can walk there, though it may be faster if we take my boat."

         "We can take your boat." she said.

         "Alright. It's right this way."

     As mysterious as you were, you had a good enough reputation to be entrusted with children. In fact, on your "days off", you'd sometimes find work as a babysitter for a few hours while somebody's parents went to work or on a date together. It was one of the ways that you made actual money, since your boat rides were always free and out of goodwill. There were the occasional tips, of course, but you never imposed upon the idea.

     You began to walk away again, with Arial following you this time. You felt her draw nearer, her bony fingers clinging to your sleeve as you two walked along the street and back to the river, where your empty boat resided.

         As you go to step on your boat, Arial gasped.
         "Hey, your boots are red, too!"

         You stretch out a foot, glancing down at the boot it was wearing.
         "Ah, so they are. What are the odds?"

     It was true, as much as they stuck out like a sore thumb alongside your other attire. But they were comparably more weathered than hers, and mostly stayed out of sight under your robes.

         With one foot, then the other, you boarded your boat.
         "Watch your step, little one."

         "Okay." said Arial, carefully boarding after you.

         "Off we go. Tra la la..."

     The boat started moving, briskly floating along the river. The wind softly breezed around you, carrying a few fallen leaves of various autumnal tints. You and Arial watched a car pass by on the road behind the trees, glad that you were nowhere near any danger such as that.

         After a while, Arial tugged at your sleeve.
         "Oh! Stop here, please."

     You stopped the boat, turning your head to see that you were docked in front of a house across the street, seeing it through a clearing in the reeds and trees. The stone path was illuminated by rows of streetlamps on either side, leading up to the front door of the house. The house itself appeared to be two storeys tall, with brown wood panelling. There was also a small shed off to the left, seeming to be made of the same material. There were trimmed bushes surrounding the house, giving it even more of a quaint and cozy look.

         "Is that your house, Arial?"

         "...Yes. Here is fine." she replied.

         "Are you sure?"

         "...Yes." she affirmed.

         "Ah. Well then, take care, little one."

         "...Goodbye!" she said, before disembarking from your boat.

     Taking a few steps up the stone path, she stopped and turned back for  a moment.

         "Um... and thank you!" she added, before heading inside.

         "Wait! My pearls!" you called after her, but she was already gone.

         I can't lose those pearls, you thought.

     As if you suddenly went on autopilot, you disembarked from your boat, crossed the street, and headed up the stone path toward the house. On the way, you took notice of the the patches of little blue flowers growing around either side of the yard (they were quite pretty, you admit). Once you reached the house, you went up the wooden steps of the small arched porch framing the front door. The porch’s two arches were illuminated with mounted lamps similar to those on the lampposts, so it wasn't that hard to see. The front door was dark brown with a weathered brass knob, and had an arched glass pane adorned with a simple pine wreath entwined with soft yellow lights hanging in front of it.

     Upon reaching the door, you noticed that it was ajar.

         "Hello?" you called, peeking inside.

         No answer.

     You stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. Should you go in? Wouldn't it be trespassing? Shouldn't Arial's parents be home? Shouldn't any other adult relative, custodian, or babysitter be there, at least? Who would leave a child alone and unsupervised at this time of night?

     Eventually, you decided. You were going in to find Arial, and get your pearls back. You didn't have much of a choice, really. Losing those pearls was not an option. You had to get them back. You had to.

     Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and went inside.

Chapter Text

    Upon entering the house, you found yourself standing in the front foyer. The walls were a plain peach-brown color, the flooring made of a brown herringbone pattern. To your immediate left, there was a white door that, when opened, appeared to be the entryway coat closet. Slightly further up to right, there was a wide doorway that appeared to lead into the living room. Occupying the wallspace towards the top-right corner were three small portraits--of a vase of colorful flowers, a brown dog with pointed ears, and a red umbrella, respectively--hanging on the wall in a diagonal row. Towards the top-left corner was a slightly slimmer doorway that appeared to lead into the kitchen, with a white landline phone mounted on the wall to the right of it. To the left of the kitchen doorway were two staircases--the left ascending, and he right descending. And to the left of the staircases, there was a another white door that you had no idea what led to.

     You were puzzled to find nobody in sight, even though the lights were on. Taking a few steps further in, you closed the door behind you.

         "...Arial?"

         Still no answer.

         Where could she be, you wondered.

     You noticed that you were standing on some sort of brown doormat with a golden brown bone-shaped border and thick white text that said "WELCOME", and wiped your boots on it out of consideration. You decided to check the living room first, since it was the first room you spotted.

     The living room was rather large, with walls that were more of an actual peach color; and a large, rectangular rug with a fanciful nature pattern in various complementary hues covering the middle of the floor. There was a standard sliding window in the middle of the north wall with pale apricot curtains, displaying the darkening night outside.

     Below the window, there was an old-timey TV sitting on a dark wood stand, displaying creepy--yet mesmerizing--static. To the left of the TV, there was a tall potted plant that looked rather artificial (and it probably was). There was also a door located to the far-left corner of the room that looked similar to the one you entered through, and surmised that it was the entry to the backyard. However, it was locked.

     To the right of the TV, there was a large, fancy-looking, russet-colored bookcase displaying a wide array of books to read. You couldn't help but "browse" through these books, and found yourself some... interesting ones.

     First was a short story titled “The White Room”.
         It sounds familiar, you thought.

     Second was a thin book titled “The Empress and the Shinigami”.
         Must be an old Eastern fairytale, you thought.

     Third was a book titled  "Complete Monster Mythos: Gerson Boom".
         I’ve heard of him, you thought.

     And last was a romance novel titled “The Neighbor’s Daughter”.
         It looks so worn, you noticed.

     In front of the TV was a large, turquoise-colored sofa that looked like it had seen better days. Adjacent to the east wall was a vermilion-colored armchair that looked incredibly worn out as well. Between the sofa and armchair was a polished wood sidetable with an illuminated, cream-colored ceramic lamp plugged in the nearby socket. As you passed by the sofa, you caught a glimpse of something shiny buried between its cushions, and tried to dig it out. You ended up finding 17 goldpieces, but decided to leave it on the sidetable since it's not polite to steal.

     Behind the couch, you saw a large oil painting hung on the wall depicting a group of various she-monsters in fancy dresses and hats during an afternoon tea party, against a lovely spring backdrop. You could recognize some of the species that were being depicted, such as a merperson, an earth elemental, and--of course--a skeleton. The painting seemed so authentic that you could feel its brushstrokes against your gauze-covered fingers.

         Arial was nowhere to be found in here, so you decided to check somewhere else.

     But suddenly, as you were leaving, you noticed someone standing near the bottom-right corner of the room, gently swaying their body to and fro. They looked like a young, greyscale, reptilian monster with two spikes on the back of their head, and no visible arms. They were wearing a sleeveless medical gown that looked a little too big for them; and had medical gauze wrapped around their eyes, indicating that they were blinded for some reason. They also had a polaroid camera hanging around their neck by a strap, which was strange given their supposed visual impairment.

     Almost right away, you had a feeling there was something "off" about the little monster. It was mainly because of their monochromatic color, and how it seemed to clash with their more colorful surroundings. They seemed harmless enough, though, so you decided to strike up a friendly chat with them.

         "Excuse me."

     The little monster looked around in confusion. You took the initiative to gently guide their chin with your hand towards your direction.

         "...Oh! H-Hello." they said.

         "Do you live here?"

         "N-No." they said.

         "I see. Well, I hope I'm not being a bother by snooping around a stranger's home."

         "No, y-you're not bothering anybody." they said, "Th-This house has been abandoned f-for years, ha ha."

         "But isn’t there a little skeleton girl named Arial that lives here? I need to find her because she has something of mine."

         They said nothing.

     Feeling awkward, you decide to leave it at that, turning away to continue your search for Arial. She had to be somewhere else in the--

         "Wait." you heard the little monster say.

         You turned around.

         "Pi-Picture?" they offered, holding the camera up with their tail.

         "Well... I suppose."

         The little monster held their camera up a bit higher.
         "Hold... st-still..." they uttered, before bopping the button with their snout.

     The camera flashed, and a polaroid of you scrolled out of the camera. The little monster pulled it out with the tip of their tail (it was a rather prehensile, you noticed) and put it aside. With a nod of gratitude, they left you to your own devices once more.

     Then, you suddenly notice the white door that the "Picture Kid" (which is what you've decided to call the young monster with the camera) was standing near. Curious, you opened it and found yourself in a small and relatively minimalist room with violet-colored walls. There was another rectangular rug with a rather fancy pattern on it covering the center of the floor, another fancy-looking bookcase (grape-colored this time) to the immediate right of the doorway, a burgundy-colored armchair sitting against the west wall, and another painting that was hanging on the east wall. The painting was a military portrait of an eighteenth-century skeleton general, one who had a rather stern expression on his viscerocranium.

     On the bookshelf in this room, you found a few more interesting titles:

     First was an old textbook titled “Monsters in Theatre: A Comprehensive History”.
         It looks humongous, you noticed.

     Second was a horror novel titled “False Visage”.
         Sounds terrifying, you thought.

     Third was a book titled “The Compiled Works of Billiam Shakespire”.
         Whole sections are torn out, you noticed.

     And last was just a bunch of different encyclopedias.
         There’s a whole plethora of subjects here, you noticed.

     To the south wall was another window, with red curtains akin to what one would find at an old-fashioned theatre. It, too, showed how dark it was getting outside, making you wonder what time it was--and how long you've been here snooping around in an apparently abandoned house.

     But you didn't find Arial in here either, so you left to check somewhere else.

     The next possible location was the kitchen. It was comparably smaller than the living room, with pastel yellow walls and muted orange-and-white checkerboard tile flooring. In the middle of the room, there was a light wooden table with three regular chairs and two high chairs--one being light blue while the other was light orange. Seeing the high chairs, you wondered if there were other children living here aside from Arial. There was also a vase with lovely flowers in the center of the table, sitting atop a lace doily mat. At the bottom-right corner was a semi-filled trash can with a wooden-sticked broom leaning against the wall beside it.

     Against the north wall, from left to right, was the main kitchen area. First was a counter with a toaster plugged into a nearby wall socket off to the side. Next to the counter was a stove with a fanciful-looking tea kettle sitting on its right backburner, and an equally cutesy kitchen towel hanging from the oven door handle.

         Better not play with fire, you told yourself.

     Mounted above the stove was a microwave. The microwave's LED panel was blank, and nothing happened when you tried to push the buttons, making you wonder if the appliance was tripped or broken. There was also a pot rack mounted on the wall between the counter and stove, displaying various cookware items. Next to the stove was a simple sink, and next to the sink was a simple refrigerator.

     Located above the sink was another window, with an orange valance-style curtain as well as a small "garden" of some potted plants sitting on the sill. Outside, it was so dark that you could hardly see anything.

     Cupboards were mounted on the upper half of the north wall, above the appliances, but they appeared to be sealed shut. The oven, sink, and refrigerator weren't, though (which made no sense if this were an attempt of child-proofing).

     When you opened the oven door, there was only an empty pie tin with a few stray crumbs strewn about inside it, looking like it's been there for a while.

     When you opened the refrigerator (as well as the freezer), the contents looked relatively normal--save for the several containers labeled "spaghetti".

         Boy, this family sure seemed to like spaghetti, you thought.

     But the sink? It wasn't anything like you expected. You were expecting things like a bottle of dish soap, or some dish sponges, or a pair of dishwashing gloves... but there wasn't any. In fact, there was nothing at all. It was a completely empty space. As you examined this space, you noticed that it almost looked like a passage to somewhere. It even looked big enough to crawl through.

     Looking around for a moment, you decided to crawl through to see where it led.

     You found yourself crawling across a cold, damp, indigo stone ground; surrounded by wavy, sandy, blue stone walls. The space around you felt quite cramped, just big enough to fit you. But luckily, it was a fairly short trip, as you found a slightly wider opening to somewhere else. As you squeezed yourself into the larger space, you got up on your feet to observe your destination. What you saw made your obscured eyes widen in shock.

         "What in the goddamn...?"

     There were odd, extremely random items littering the space, in front of what appears to be the ruins of some kind of shrine. Exactly what kind of shrine it could be, you hadn't the slightest idea--though you noticed that the debris from the "roof" had tarnished golden adornments that looked vaguely shaped like a pointy-eared dog. The "donation box" was all the way across the room for some reason, with a single goldpiece sitting at the bottom (making you wonder if that was the source of this travesty). A long string of broken fairy lights hung above the ruins, looking like they've been there for quite a while judging by how dull they were.

     Among the junk that trashed the ground, you saw a radio that looked so old that it seemed fossilized, a hardened half-eaten stick of dumplings, two frayed pieces of rope, a sprinkle-covered rock sitting on a plate, an empty bag of chips, and a moldy old sock.

     You also found what you thought was just a joke book laying on the ground, and picked it up to read it. But when you opened it, you found a quantum physics book inside, which opened to another joke book, which opened to another quantum physics book (you decided to stop at that point).

     Greatly confused, you began to question why Arial's family would have such an absurd space in an even more absurd place, and how it could possibly have any purpose other than being a inconspicuous hiding spot or storm shelter. But even then, why would they have all this silly clutter lying about? This just all seems like a waste of...!

     Suddenly, you noticed the massive wooden door in the middle of the ruins. It was dark violet in color, and had four strange blue and pink symbols that looked like playing card suits painted on it. The door appeared to be sealed shut by a massive golden lock with four keyholes. As you went up to inspect this mysterious locked door, you saw an crudely-written inscription etched on the floor, which read:

         "FOUR ARCANE KEYS
         HIDDEN BEFORE YOUR EYES
         FIND THEM TO DISCOVER
         AN ENLIGHTENING SURPRISE."

         Uh... okay? you thought.

     You decided to leave at this point, since you didn't have any of these "keys" to open the door. You didn't even know if this was a quest meant for you specifically, so it really wasn't any of your concern. Plus, Arial wasn't even in here anyway, so there was no reason to stay here.

     Crawling back out into the kitchen, you stood up and leaned against the sink, sighing in exhaustion. You still haven't found Arial yet, and it seemed you were running out of options. There was only one possible place left to look.

     You went up to the white door by the staircases to see what was behind it. It appeared to be a small bathroom, with cyan-colored walls and coral pink tile flooring. There was no toilet to be seen (which was understandable since monsters don't--ahem--"produce excrement" like humans do). But there was a bathtub (that faintly smelled like bleach) as well as a sink with a mirror. The bathtub was located against the west wall, with a muted magenta shower curtain as well as a fluffy muted purple bath mat in front of it. There were a few bottles of body wash sitting in the top-left corner of the tub, which smelled rather nice in your opinion.

     There was also another window that was (rather foolishly) located above the bathtub, with aqua green curtains. The night was so dark out it was virtually pitch black. You began to wonder if you were even in the same dimension anymore.

     As you tried to look in the mirror above the sink, you were disgusted by how dirty it was. It was so dirty, in fact, you could hardly see your reflection! Then you decided to examine the cabinet below the sink (since you were sooo good at not being a snoop), where you found nothing but a huge jug of bleach.

         Figures, you thought.

     Arial was not present in any of the rooms you've checked, but you refused to give up hope. This was only the first floor, right? There was a flight of stairs out in the foyer that went up, so there had to be a second floor.

     You approached the ascending staircase, standing at the bottom step for a moment before slowly reaching for the banister. Your spindly, gauze-covered fingers curled  around the top rail as you began your climb, the steps softly creaking beneath your feet. As you climbed, though, you felt a strange chill in the air that you couldn't seem to shake off for some reason.

     Then, upon reaching the top step, you were stopped dead in your tracks by a shadowy, humanoid being that blocked your path. The being vaguely resembled a tall, pale man wearing a black suit with long coattails, a faded purple turtleneck sweater, and fancy white gloves. His face was obscured by a mauve-colored mask depicting a smiling, wrinkled face. You noticed that the exposed parts of his face and neck had vaguely skeletal features (as hard as it was to tell).

     You watched as this strange man stood, slightly hunched over, in front of the nearmost door in the hallway--the first of three it seemed, though it was hard to tell from your obstructed point of view. His hunched stance was quite firm, as if he were "guarding" something. Not wanting to be seen, you swiftly absconded down the stairs, looking back to see if the strange man followed. But he was nowhere to be found.

         What the hell was that? you wondered.

     Suddenly, you noticed a trail of muddy footprints going down the descending staircase, vaguely recognizing the type of footwear that left them.

         Arial must've gone this way, you thought.

     You were bemused by how you didn't notice them before--that is, unless they somehow didn't appear until now. But regardless, you finally found a clue to your little fugitive's whereabouts. You proceeded to follow the trail down the stairs, and found yourself in a dark, mono-grey corridor upon reaching the bottom. You continued to follow the trail, still wary of seeing more strange men blocking your way. There weren't, fortunately, but you noticed that there was a chill in the air again--though this time, it felt like a literal drop in temperature.

         Brrr! Why is it so chilly down here? you wondered.

     You were nearly startled by the sight of your breaths puffing out into a vaporous cloud, as if you were standing outside on a winter day. Admittedly, though, the apparent drop in temperature didn't really bother you all that much. You had taken people across the river through all four seasons--rain, shine, heat, cold, it didn't really matter. You'd actually receive surprised remarks from people wondering why you didn't seem bothered by any of the weather's hardships. And you'd always assure them no matter what, they could always count on you.

     But still, you couldn't help but wonder how Arial's family could allow their basement to get this cold. And for it to be this cold, there had to be a broken heating apparatus they couldn't afford (or be bothered) to fix--for a very, very long time. On the other hand, it could simply mean that you may be near some sort of cold storage area, and the cold air was just leaking through neighboring walls. Though after seeing those strange beings upstairs earlier, as well as that weird space under the sink in the kitchen, you were now beginning to realize that this was no ordinary house. Was it cursed? Haunted? Perhaps. All you knew was that there was something bigger lying deep below the surface of this mystery.

     The trail eventually stopped, and looked like they went under another door--brown this time. You reached for the handle, only to nearly jump in shock at how cold it was, even for your gauze-covered touch. In fact, you thought you saw something lightly covering the knob.

         Is that... frost? you wondered.

     Hesitantly, you turned the handle and opened the door. When you arrived at what seemed to be the basement, you were blinded by a thick, hazy flurry that coated the entire room.

         What the... Why is it snowing indoors...? you wondered.

     You stepped in further, looking around.

        “Arial? Are you down here?”

     You suddenly heard the door shut itself, followed by an audible click. You rushed back and tried the handle, but the door wouldn't budge.

         I'm locked in, you sighed.

     Having no choice but to go forward, you entered a wider region of the area. It was hard to see anything, and you were worried that you would accidentally bump into something. After walking a few feet into this wider space, you stopped to see two shadowy shapes, with eyes like scarlet lights that glowed brightly in the haze. Standing warily, you noticed that the shape on the left was much taller than the one on the right They almost seemed like an adult and a child, respectively. The shapes stood there, silent and still, their glowering eyes seeming to burn right through your very being.

     Then suddenly, the haze began to dissipate.

Chapter Text

     As the room cleared up, you began to see your surroundings more properly. The walls appeared to be made of red bricks (though heavily covered in frost), and the floor beneath your feet made of red-and-black diamond checkerboard tiling (though mostly covered in piles of snow). Then finally, the haze was completely clear, revealing the shadows that stood before you to be a pair of rather well-dressed beings. They were standing between a pair of old, snow-covered sinks with cracked mirrors; illuminated by soft, snow-covered lamps mounted up across the wall itself (you counted four; or two on each side).

     You stood in uneasy silence, watching them suspiciously under your obscuring hood. Though you were basically used to this by now, there was something about these two that set them apart from the other beings you've encountered in this house so far. It almost felt... sinister.

     The being to the left wore a red suit with large, pointed  shoulders and long coattails, a white undershirt with a standing collar, a large white jabot, white gloves, and a black bow-tie. He also wore a tall red top hat with a black diamond on it, and held a rather fancy cane between his hands--the tip of which appearing to be shaped like a golden, canine-like skull with pointed horns. To the left of him was what appeared to be a fluffy white dog snoozing at his feet.

     The being off to the right wore a similar red suit with a white undershirt, a frilled bib-like cravat, white gloves, and a black bow-tie. He also wore a large, unstructured red top hat with a white ribbon around its base. You could've sworn you saw some faded red stains here and there on his cravat, but tried not to think about it too much.

    You noticed that the two beings were both quite skeletal in appearance, and wondered if they had any relation to Arial. The only thing that set the pair apart, however, is that they had piercing, glass-like red eyes that looked like they belonged to dolls. The black, clown-like markings painted around said eyes, as well as each of them two having one eye that drooped lazily, only made their appearance even more unsettling. As they stared at you with their piercing red eyes, the two beings grinned.

         "Heh heh heh..." said the short being, "Hey bro, look who it is."

         "Nyeh-heh-heh!" said the tall being, "Look what the dog dragged in!" 

         "Heh heh... Has death finally come knocking at our door?" the short being asked.

         "No, you fool!" the tall being scolded, "What we have is a guest! And I daresay, we must look our best! We've never had a guest before."

         "A sight for sore eyes, isn't it?" the short being asked.

         "That's a sore lie, isn't it?" the tall being asked.

         "Isn't it? Heh heh heh." the short being cackled.

         You were greatly bemused.
         "Ah... I'm sorry, but who are you?"

         "Nyeh-heh-heh! Don't be so innocent, my cloaked compadre!" the tall being cackled.

         "Ya hear that?" the short being asked.

         "Weird, that." said the tall being.

         "Eh... to be fair, they've never met us before, have they?" the short being conceded.

         "Have they? Have they? Adorable, aren't they?" the tall being chimed in.

         You blinked in confusion at their strange comments, but tried to brush it off.
         "Pardon me, but have you seen a little skeleton girl around here?"

         "Eh? A little girl?" the short being asked.

         "Why, aren't you a little girl?" the tall being asked.

         "Or are you a little boy?" the short being asked.

         "Does it really matter?" the tall being cackled.

         You let out an irritated sigh.
         "I would like to leave, please."

         "Whaaat? They'd like to leave?" the short being complained.

         "Nyeh? And why, pray tell, is that?" the tall being asked, clearly annoyed.

         "Man, you just got here and you already wanna bolt?" the short being asked.

         "Is there not a way out?" you asked.

         "Out? Yes." said the tall being.

         "Doubt? Yes." said the short being.

         "Nyeh! A favor! I declare a favor!" cried the tall being.

         "A favor?" the short being repeated.

         "Yes, indeed! Honor the favor, and then they can leave." said the tall being.

         "Man, what a lousy guest..." the short being muttered.

         You readied yourself.
         "...Alright, what is the favor?"

         "Our favor, they ask!" said the tall being.

         "C'mon, it ain't a hard task." said the short being.

         "It is a simple puzzle! A riddle, to challenge their mind!" said the tall being.

     He cleared his throat, and pointed to the dog laying near his feet.

         "This stupid, useless, aggravating, infuriating, pea-brained, flea-bitten, bone-stealing, feet-tripping fuzzball of a mutt here." he rambled, "Can you tell me its name?"

         "Hear, hear." the short being chimed in.

         "Then you may leave." the tall being finished.

         "Good luck, pal." said the short being, "You're gonna need it."

     With that, you set out on your little "quest". You passed by the strange pair to the west side of the basement, only to be blocked off by what appeared to be a snowman.

         It looks rather well-crafted, you thought.

     Having no choice but to turn around and go the other way you passed by the strange pair again. As you passed by, you suddenly heard the short being discreetly attempt to get your attention.

         "Pssst, hey buddy, it might help to check the lab downstairs." he said in a secretive tone.

         "Shush!" the tall being scolded under his breath, "You're not supposed to give them any hints!"

         "Whoops, sorry." the short being whispered back.

     Curious, you decided to find out where this laboratory was. You continued passing by, stopping to look closer at the nearby lamp on the wall. Though it was alight, it had no flame, which struck you as odd. You then looked at yourself in the mirror above the nearby sink for a moment. This time, you actually managed to see your reflection, watching your puffs of frozen breath drift out from the obscuring void of your hood. As you began walking again, you looked back and noticed that neither of the two beings had breaths puffing into the chilled air, as if they weren't even breathing at all. And that only made them seem more unsettling.

     As you passed by to the east side, you saw a trio of cardboard boxes that were semi-covered with a sheet, protecting them from the snow. One sat on top while the other two sat on the bottom, all three labeled with a black marker. The one on top said "PUZZLES", while the bottom-left one said "MORE PUZZLES", and the bottom-right one said "EVEN MORE PUZZLES". To the right of the boxes was what seemed to be an old-fashioned bicycle, also semi-covered with a sheet.

         It looks uncomfortable, you thought.

     There was also a semi-covered billiard table sitting against the south wall (or to the immediate right of where you stood). Stacked underneath it were some board games, such as chess and battleship.

         Why do they sound familiar? you wondered.

     Suddenly, you saw something sticking out between two of the games' boxes. It looked like a folded paper note. Out of curiousity, you reached down and pulled it out. After unfolding it, you saw something written on it:

         2 7 1 8

     A code? What was it for? Was it something important? You didn't want to take any chances, so tried to memorize it--just in case.

     Then, once you reached the end of the room, you saw "Picture Kid" standing in the corner. You had no idea how they suddenly managed to move locations when you could've sworn they were in the living room last time you checked. But nonetheless, it was nice to see a friendly face.

         "Hello, again."

         "H-Hi." they replied, "P-Picture?"

         "Sure.""Hold... st-still..." they uttered, before pressing the button. The camera flashed and a new polaroid scrolled out, which they took and put away.

     You turned to the right and found another brown door.

         "Is that the laboratory?"

         "Y-Yeah." they replied, "A-Are you going down th-there?"

         "Mhm."

         "O-Okay." they said, "Be careful, th-though. It's kind of d-dark down there."

         "I will."

     You opened the door, and saw another descending staircase. It was indeed dark down there, but you could've sworn you saw a faint orange glow from somewhere at the bottom. Slowly and cautiously, you went down the stairs. After reaching the bottom step, you found yourself in a dank, dark, creepy room. The walls were a faded, decaying, mold-ridden, dark celadon color; and the floor beneath your feet made of dirty, cracked, muted teal tiling.

     Along the north wall, there was a long, wide shelf with four drawers, that appeared to be used as a worktable; below a length-wide mirror. On the left side, there was a book with a hard red leather cover laying open. On the right side, there were some flasks and beakers full of strange-looking chemicals, along with a rack of three empty test tubes. And on the floor to the left side, there was a rusty, empty bird cage sitting in a rusty red wagon.

     You walked down to the right, and  found yourself in a larger section of the room. In the middle of this section, there were three empty cribs-- a row of two at the top, and one at the bottom. The top-left crib looked as if it was just recently assembled, lined with light blue sheets, and with a small planet model hanging above it. The top-right crib looked just as new as its "twin", lined with light orange sheets, and with a small plane model hanging above it.

     And last but not least, the third crib. The third crib looked surprisingly old and beat-down compared to the other two, lined with worn pink sheets. Hung above it, much to your shock, was not any sort of model... but a dead yellow bird.

     ...Well, at least you know why that cage is empty.

     This section of the room was dimly lit by the fireplace located in the center of the north wall. Mounted above the fireplace was some sort of large, horned, caprine-looking skull with black markings underneath its eyesockets, its mouth chained and locked tight for some reason. At either side of the fireplace, there was what seemed to be baby blankets nailed to the wall. The one on the left was light blue with yellow stars on it, while the one on the right was light orange with pastel pink bunnies on it; with broken chains on the blue's left and the pink's right.

     The first thing you decided to do was read the open journal on the desk, hoping that it may hold any helpful clues. On the old, faded pages in view, it read:

         "FEBRUARY 7TH, 1918

        I was finally given the honor to take an afternoon excursion into their back garden.
        And... if I am to be honest, I found the little grove rather terrifying in spite of my fascination.
        Unimaginable beasts, lurking about in the shadows, piercing my very SOUL with their leering gaze... it filled me with the utmost paranoia.

        And yet, the flora that take root there... they are far beyond my wildest dreams!
        They may seem ordinary to the naked eye, but their properties are, I daresay... magical.

        For example, the ruddy rosette extract emanates incredible warmth, even in the most bitter cold!"

     The entry stopped there, as the rest of it was scribbled out.

     Next, you decided to check the chemical samples over on the right. You saw three types of chemicals before you: a flask containing a red chemical, a beaker containing a green chemical, and another flask that contained a blue chemical. You viewed the red chemical closer, wondering if it was this "ruddy rosette extract" described in the journal. You decide to take one of the three test tubes, and poured the red chemical into it.

     Got RED POTION.

     You decide to bring the potion upstairs to see if it can do anything about the snowman sculpture blocking the other side of the basement. But as you began to walk towards the exit, you stopped for a moment and turned around. You could've sworn you caught somebody following behind you in the long mirror from the corner of your eye for a split second, before it disappeared. It almost looked like a short humanoid being with a round head and stubby arms, and even looked as if it had a similar color scheme as "Picture Kid".

     ...Must've been your imagination.

     Once you were back up in the main basement, you made your way back over to the west side, feeling the potion radiating a noticeable warmth through your hand wrappings as it emitted a pleasant, rose-like aroma. Then, you took the potion and poured it onto the snowy obstruction. Almost immediately, you heard a faint sizzling noise, followed by the snowman melting down into a puddle.

     It worked!

     But though your path was cleared now, you found yourself staring down at the puddle of what was once the snowman and the dampened items that used to accessorize it. Even though it was just a non-sentient construct, you couldn't help but feel kind of bad. You ended up stepping over the puddle instead of through as you continued crossing the west side. As you passed by, you saw what appeared to be a semi-covered display table showing off a miniature winter village inhabited by little figurines of various monsters, complete with colorful miniature lights. There was a little shop, a little inn, a little pub, even a little library! It was actually kind of adorable, you admit.

     To the left of the display table, there was a tall, conical object covered by a sheet.

     Oh, no. Is that what you think it is...?

     You partially lifted the sheet up.

     ...Yep, it is.

     It was a (faux) Gyftmas tree that was still semi-decorated. There were some red and green plastic storage bins underneath, which you assumed contained the remaining ornaments and whatnot.

         It's not even Halloween yet, you sighed.

     Then to left of the tree, there was a semi-covered display shelf lined with a collection of whimsical snowglobes in various sizes and scenes. Each one appeared so unique, it didn't seem that any two were alike. Whoever collected these things, it must have taken a long time to acquire them all.

     Proceeding to the end of the west side, you found yet another brown door, leading down another descending staircase, into another room. Unlike the laboratory, though, this room had a much less threatening atmosphere. The walls were about the same as the main basement's, but the floor down here was made of light chestnut hardwood instead of that red-and-black tiling. To the south wall, there was a film projector running on its own, facing a blank projector screen in the center of the north wall. To the right of the film projector, there was a phonograph sitting on a small table, playing a serene yet peculiar song. There were various broken instruments strewn about the room, such as a guitar with a broken neck, and a bass with snapped strings. Against the west wall, there was a important-looking bust of an reptilian she-monster with "hair" designed into points at the back of her head and wearing old-fashioned glasses. To the left of it, there was what appeared to be a golden plaque. And, oddly enough, there was an illuminated lamppost in the bottom-right corner (why it was there, you had no idea).

     To the left of the projector screen, you saw a rather large, caprine monster with yellow hair and a matching beard. You realized that he was a life-sized nutcracker king, as he was not only dressed like one, but he also had the characteristic stiff posture and pivoting jaw. In spite of his hulking appearance, though, he seemed perfectly harmless, so you decided to go ahead and greet him.

         "Hello."

         "Ahh... nuts..." he simply uttered, "Ahh... nuts..."

     You felt awkward by his apparent lack of acknowledgement, so you left him be. Then, you suddenly noticed the big film reel lying on the ground next to the film projector. You went over to pick it up.

     Got FILM REEL.

     Upon closer inspection, you noticed it was titled “My Lovely Eyes”. You gave a curious look at the film projector beside you, before putting the reel in to see what was on it. After it was inserted, you watched as it started up on the projector screen. It started up with a title card to a short silent film, complete with ragtime music playing in the background.

"SKULLFACE PRODUCSHUNS
presents
A 
SKULLFACE MOTION PICTURE

Starring TOBY the DOG"

     You watched as the film began with a familiar pointy-eared dog playing with a squeaky toy bone. He had eyes that were strangely similar to that of the strange pair who tasked you. Then you watched as a stout human boy in a familiar suit and top hat walked up to the dog. The dog looked at the boy, then looked at the camera with a mischievous glint in its eye, then looked at the boy again. There was a blur of motion between the two characters, before revealing the dog now lying motionless on the ground, its eyes gone; and the human boy now appearing like that short being from upstairs. Then you watched as a man in another familiar suit and top hat, who was assumed to be the human boy's father, backing away in unease at what he just witnessed.

         "Uh... Son?"

    Then you watched as it cut to the short being clinging to the man. He looked at the man, then at the camera with a wink, then back at the man. Then there was another blur of motion. Now the short being hung limp like a ragdoll in the man's arms, his eyesockets lifeless and empty; and the man now appearing as the tall being from upstairs. You watched as the tall being laughed mischievously, and the film ended.

     Suddenly, as you took the film reel from the projector, you turned to the side to find a white, faceless, humanoid being that stood roughly half your height "staring" at you. Its head and body almost made it looked shaped like a spoon, with similar-looking appendages for arms. You stared back at it in uneasy silence, watching for its next move in anticipation. Then, you watched as the creature slowly reached into itself...

     ...And pulled out a fancily painted egg. The egg was pale peach in color, with a branch of seashell-pink blossoms painted on it. The creature held the egg out, seeming to offer it to you. You hesistantly agreed and took it.

     Got EGG.

     You watched as the creature retracted its arms, shuffled away, and faded out of sight. After that, you went back upstairs to speak with the strange pair again.

         "Nyeh? This stupid, useless, aggravating, infuriating, pea-brained, flea-bitten, bone-stealing, feet-tripping fuzzball of a mutt here." the tall being rambled, "Can you tell me its name?"

         "Yes." you told him.

         "Well? What is it?" the tall being pressed on.

         You cleared your throat.
         "Is it... 'Toby'?"

         The tall being was silent for a moment.
         "Why... that's exactly correct!"

         "Whaaat? That can't be." said the short being.

         "Hm! My sentiments exactly! No doubt this is foul play!" the tall being declared.

         "Probably." the short being remarked.

         The tall being sighed. "Must we ask for another favor?"

         "Probably." the short being repeated.

         "Nyeh... now, now, we mustn't hate them." said the tall being, "Another favor will right this wrong!"

         "Favors for favors, buddy." said the short being.

         "Ahem! Now, my friend..." said the tall being, "Your next challenge is... to bring me the favorite food of the beast!"

         "Now get outta here." the short being dismissed.

         "And no hints this time!" the tall being angrily whispered to the short being.

         "Okay, jeez." the short being whispered back.

     Slightly annoyed at this extra setback, you set off on your new "quest". But you already had the gist of what you needed to do, and returned to the laboratory. You truly hoped that this would be it: the real chance to earn your freedom.

Chapter Text

     Upon entering the laboratory again, you heard the sound of rapidly flipping pages. You realize it was the open journal you read earlier, doing just that. You went up to read the journal, wondering what it said now.

         "FEBRUARY 7TH 1918

        I was finally given the honor to take an afternoon excursion into their back garden.
        And... if I am to be honest, I found the little grove rather terrifying in spite of my fascination.
        Unimaginable beasts, lurking about in the shadows, piercing my very SOUL with their leering gaze... it filled me with the utmost paranoia.

        And yet, the flora that take root there... they are far beyond my wildest dreams!
        They may seem ordinary to the naked eye, but their properties are, I daresay... magical.

         For example, the ruddy rosette extract emanates incredible warmth, even in the most bitter cold!"

    It was the exact same words as last time... until you noticed an addendum that you haven't seen before:

         "The fairy clover concentrate appears to sharpen one's mind, allowing them to read long-forgotten tongues!"

    The entry stopped there, as the rest was scribbled out.

    As you walked across the room, the world around you suddenly glitched out for a moment. A pair of inanimate, skeletal objects of an indeterminate (yet humanoid) species appeared out of thin air, sitting against the far east wall. You went to investigate, noticing that each of the two skulls had something written in red on their frontal bones. The words appeared to be an inscription divided in half, written in a language you couldn't understand at all. It most certainly wasn't even a skeleton font, as you would've recognized it if it was.

    Then, recalling the new information you just read in that journal, you go back up to the chemical area. Assuming that, since the red chemical was the "ruddy rosette extract", the green chemical must be the "fairy clover concentrate". You take a test tube from the rack, and poured the green chemical into it.

    Got GREEN POTION.

    Returning to the inscribed "skeletons", you held out the potion. The aroma it emitted reminded you of fresh spring herbs.

         "Bottoms up."

    You then proceeded to drink down the potion. As it went down, it left a fresh, almost tingly taste in your mouth.

    ...Feeling great!

    With your mind now "sharpened", you tried to translate the two inscriptions.

    The first half appeared to say: "What does..."
    And the second half appeared to say: "...the beast see?"

    You pondered the meaning for a moment, before turning towards the horned skull mounted above the fireplace. Was that the "beast" you were looking for? Only one way to find out. You went up to the horned skull, trying to match your line of sight with its own.

         It seems to be facing the far wall, you noticed.

    You proceeded down to the spot, passing by the empty cribs. Once you were there, you felt around the wall for any signs of a hidden switch or weak point. Alas, there was nothing. But just as you walked away from the wall, you heard a loud crumbling sound. You turned around to find a gaping hole where the empty space once was. Curious, you ducked and entered the hole to see where it lead.

    It appears you have reached a small hidden section of the laboratory. There is another fancy-looking bookshelf (navy blue this time) to the left of the entrance, a sturdy wooden table in the bottom-left corner, and a small creaky stool in the bottom-right corner.

    On the bookshelf, you saw even more interesting titles:

    First was a thick book titled "Ambition and Reverie".

    Second was an old book titled "The Three Disciples".

    Third was a dusty book titled "Wingdings's Attic".

    And last was a fancy book titled "Foregone Paradise".

    Suddenly, you noticed the lonely peanut on a plate that sat upon the table in the corner. Wondering if was what you were looking for, you took it.

    Got PEANUT.

    You climbed back out into the main laboratory and began to head for the exit. But as you were about to leave, it happened again. You thought you saw another momentary glimpse of a greyscale being following you in the mirror. Only this time, the being was towards your height, and had more of a feline appearance.

    ...God, you needed to get out of this hellhole before you lose your mind completely.

    Once you were back up in the main basement, you returned to the strange pair with the peanut in your possession.

         "Nyeh? Have you brought me the favorite food of the beast?" the tall being asked.

         You showed him the peanut.

         "Wrong! Absolutely wrong!" the tall being cried.

         "Try again, buddy." said the short being.

    You were confused. Why all this buildup to a discovery that wasn't even the answer? There had to be a reason why that peanut was there. But what could it be?

    Wondering what to do now, you suddenly remembered the hungry life-sized nutcracker down in the "movie room", and wondered if you should give the peanut to him instead. It wouldn't hurt to try. You crossed back over to the west side of the basement, and went down the stairs. When you reached the "movie room", you approached the hulking object.

         "Ah... is that... a peanut?" he asked, "It looks delicious... May I have it?"

    You nodded, and placed the peanut in his open mouth. You watched as he happily chewed it in an almost robotic fashion, then swallow it (how he was able to do so was beyond you).

         "Thank you... very much..." he said, "Here... take this."

    The nutcracker spat out a metallic object, which you picked up off of the floor. It was a small, rusty key (that smelled an awful lot like walnuts).

    Got SMALL KEY.

         "Please... come back later..." he added.

    With the key in hand, you went back up the stairs into the main basement. You wondered what this key went to, before suddenly getting the scheme to try it on that locked door that kept you trapped here. Sneaking (rather poorly) by the strange pair, you went up to the entrance door and tried to use the key. However, it slipped right through without even touching the mechanism.

         The key doesn't fit, you sighed.

    Suddenly, you froze like a faun caught in headlights as you heard the tall being call out to you scoldingly.

         "Nyah-ah-ah! No bailing out of this!" he said.

    Damn. Looks like you had to play fair if you ever wanted to get out of this wretched place. But if the key didn't go to this door, then where could it possibly go?

    Suddenly, you remembered that large horned skull mounted above the fireplace down in the laboratory--that which had its muzzle chained shut with a lock. Perhaps the key would work on that lock?

    You crossed back over to the east side of the basement, and returned to the laboratory. Once you were there, you went up to the horned skull and tried the key on the padlock that bound the chains.

    ...It worked!

    You proceeded to remove the chains from the skull's muzzle, dropping them to the floor with a loud "clank!". Then, after a moment, you heard a mechanical whirring noise emitting from inside the skull's mouth, followed by a strange cylindrical glass container ejected from its "throat". Upon catching the container in your gauze-covered hands, you noticed a glowing red object floating around inside.

    Your obscured eyes widened in realization.
    ...It was a fragment of a human SOUL.

    Got SOUL FRAGMENT.

    The red glow from inside the container reflected against the darkness as you carried the container back up the stairs. Once you were in the main basement again, you returned to the strange pair--hoping that you had the right answer this time.

         "Nyeh? Have you brought me the favorite food of the beast?" the tall being asked.

    You showed him the container. He took it in stunned silence.

         "Why... that's absolutely correct!" he declared, "The beast loves to devour human SOULs!"

         "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." the short being complained.

         "Nyehhh! That's impossible! You couldn't have known!" the tall being cried in disbelief.

         "Yeah, you couldn't have known." the short being agreed.

    You couldn't have known.
    For some reason, those words echoed in your mind.

         "How?! How did you manage to figure this out?!" the tall being whined.

         "Simple. They're a smart cookie." said the short being, "They solved the puzzle fair and square."

         "But... but..." the tall being stuttered.

         "But... favors for favors." the short being finished.

         "Nyeh-heh! That's right!" said the tall being.

         "That means you still owe us one more favor, buddy." the short being explained.

         "One more puzzle!" the tall being declared, "Sing us the perfect song with the perfect voice!"

         "And it's gotta be the voice of choice." the short being added.

         "Then will I be able to leave?" you asked, a little annoyed at this extra setback.

         "...Yes." said the tall being, in a less enthusiastic tone.

         "Cross our hearts--oh, wait, we don't have any. Whoops." said the short being, prompting the tall being to sigh in irritation.

    With that, you were off once again. You swear to God, this better be the last time.

Chapter Text

     During your (hopefully) final "quest", you decided to pay a visit to the nutcracker one last time, wondering why he wanted you to come back. You crossed over to the west side of the basement and down the stairs to the "movie room", only to notice that the nutcracker had moved away from the wall he stood in front of, revealing a gaping hole behind him.

          It could move? you wondered to yourself.

     You passed by the nutcracker and climbed through the hole, and found yourself in another hidden room. The walls were still the same, but the floor was made of birch hardwood instead. Towards the bottom-right corner, you found the strange faceless being that gave you the egg earlier; standing next to a chicken who sat on a blue-green cushion (presumably where the being got said egg).

     In the top-left corner, there was a potted plant that actually looked real this time, and also looked like it had been freshly watered. Next to the plant was another indoor lamppost, and next to that was a simple upright piano. There was also another window with fancy red curtains (like the ones you saw in the minimalist "study" upstairs) located towards the left side of the east wall, but you saw nothing out there--though to be fair, you were in a sub-basement level.

     As you observed the piano, you noticed that it was playing a melody all on its own, without anyone visibly there to press the keys. It was a rather peculiar sight. But as you listened more closely to the melody it played, you found yourself beginning to pick up on it. Then finally, you memorized it.

        a-e-G-C-B-G-d-e
        e-f-G-f-e-d-c-e

     But though you have a song now, you wondered if you should sing it to the strange pair. You were used to your little "tra la la"s, "tri li li"s, and "hum hum hum"s, but to outright sing? Would it even be the answer you were looking for?

     ...Only one way to find out, you suppose.

     You went back upstairs, to the main basement and spoke to the strange pair once more.

          "Can you? Can you sing me the perfect song with the perfect voice?" the tall being asked.

     You nodded, trying your hardest to keep your composure. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm your nerves, you attempted to sing the song you learned with your own voice. Queerly enough, yet unsurprisingly, it sounded nothing like the voice you've been speaking with this whole time. While your "normal voice" sounded rather strained as you spoke, the voice you sang with sounded soft, gentle, and lilting. The very sound of it even made you flinch a little in surprise.

          "Hm! A fine song indeed!" the tall being remarked.

          "Not to be rude or anything, but... your voice sucks." the short being cackled.

          "Right you are, brother!" said the tall being, "That was the perfect song... but far from the perfect voice! And honestly, was that even your voice we heard?"

          "It sounded too... girly." the short being remarked.

          "Try again, friend." the tall being dismissed.

     You let out a frustrated sigh as you crossed over to the east side of the basement.

          “Say, has anyone seen my snowman?” the short being asked out of nowhere.

     You sheepishly pretended not to hear and headed down the stairs into the laboratory once more. Upon entering, you saw and heard that open journal flipping pages again, prompting you to read what it said now.

          "FEBRUARY 7TH, 1918

          I was finally given the honor to take an afternoon excursion into their back garden.
          And... if I am to be honest, I found the little grove rather terrifying in spite of my fascination.
          Unimaginable beasts, lurking about in the shadows, piercing my very SOUL with their leering gaze... it filled me with the utmost paranoia.

          And yet, the flora that take root there... they are far beyond my wildest dreams!
          They may seem ordinary to the naked eye, but their properties are, I daresay... magical.

          For example, the ruddy rosette extract emanates incredible warmth, even in the most bitter cold!"

          The fairy clover concentrate appears to sharpen one's mind, allowing them to read long-forgotten tongues!"

     It was the exact same words as last time... until you noticed an addendum that you haven't seen before:

          "And the essence of moon violet even boasts the power to bring small critters back from the dead!"

     Below that was another addendum you found rather odd:

          "I must leave this place with ample samples as soon as possible. The mistress of the house is queer enough in her own right, but truth be told...

          It's her demented progeny that frightens me most."

     The entry stopped there, as the remaining pages were blank. It almost unsettled you, as if something terrible happened to the author.

     You went over to the chemical area and took the last test tube from the rack. Knowing that the red chemical was the "ruddy rosette extract" and the green chemical was the "fairy clover concentrate", the blue chemical must be the "essence of moon violet". You took the blue chemical and poured it into the test tube.

          Got BLUE POTION.

     You looked around the room, wondering what kind of "deceased critters" you could use. Then, you suddenly remembered there was a dead yellow bird hanging over one of the cribs by the fireplace. You went over to find the poor little thing exactly the way you left it, and took it into your free hand--noticing that the critter was a teensy bit bigger than you initially thought. With the bird cradled in your gangly palm, you carefully poured the potion onto its body. The potion's delicate, ethereal aroma wafted into the air as it was absorbed into the little one's feathers.

     ...The bird was resurrected!

     You watched as its sullen, faded feathers seemed to brighten up to a more vibrant shade; its glazed eyes blinking to life. The bird then began chirping in distress as it attempted to struggle free from its string. You untied the string, allowing the bird to flutter up into the air, chirping happily. Then you watched as the bird flew into your arms, nestling itself in your hands with an affectionate tweet.

          "Well, I guess I'm taking you with me, then."

     Got BIRD.

     As you carried your new avian friend across the laboratory towards the exit, it suddenly began to flap its wings and let out a string of urgent chirps, as if it were trying to get your attention.

          "Hm? What is it?"

     The bird fluttered out of your hands to land on the long shelf with the open journal and bubbling chemicals, pecking at the first of the four drawers underneath.

          "Do you need something in there?"

     The bird flapped its wings as it chirped in response, continuing to peck at the drawer until you went over and opened it. Inside the drawer, you found a bunch of random handheld tools. They looked like they were made for a wide array of things, though, not just for building or repairing. Some of them even looked like they were used in crafting things (namely woodwork). You were confused as to why the bird wanted you to see these contents, but as you gazed at them, you couldn't help but feel like they made you... remember something.

     But the bird's chirping snapped you out of your "trance" as it began to peck at the second drawer of the row, and you decided to humor the little bird's insistence. Inside this drawer, you found various seed packets used for gardening. Some were unopened, while others appeared to have had some usage. You began to wonder if this laboratory did indeed belong to a phytochemist; as implied by the notes written in that journal as well as the nature of those chemicals.

     Maybe these seeds were used to grow the plants that these chemical samples were extracted from? It might be so, as you noticed that some of the used seed packets were labeled "ruddy rosette", "fairy clover", and "moon violet". As you looked at them, they, too, evoked a feeling you couldn't quite recognize.

     But the bird kept moving along, flapping and pecking at the next drawer. When you opened this one, all there was in it was an old, broken baby rattle. The object was divided into three faded colors--pink, cyan, and orange; with a faded white ribbon tied around the top of the handle. As you picked up the rattle to examine it, you gave a confused glance at the bird, who only cocked its head in response.

          "What are you trying to tell me?"

     The bird went over to peck at the fourth and final drawer. You put the rattle away in the drawer that was already open, before going to examine what was in the next. Inside this one, you saw a dusty old photo album. You picked it up and blew the dust off of its cover before flipping through it. Inside were photos of people you didn't recognize; most of them skeletons. The photos seemed to follow some sort of "timeline" in terms of age, as they started in sepia, then to black-and-white, then in-color. The progressing type of attire worn by the people in each photo further proved that they were indeed arranged as such.

     As you flipped through the album, you notice that a lot of the "newer" ones seem to depict the same-looking couple. There was even some that appeared to have been taken on said couple's wedding day, as well as what appeared to be them in front of a recently-bought house that looked strangely identical to this one. These photos must have had a significant enough need to be included in this album, as you didn't recall seeing any other kind of photos like them in the earlier pages--you did find it odd, however, that they were the only ones who had their faces obscured by some kind of photographic glare.

     Then, when you reached the end, a blank, sealed envelope fell out and hit the ground. You put the album aside before picking up the envelope.. As you traced your finger against the back, you noticed that the adhesive holding the paper flap shut was rather loose. You looked at the bird, who bobbed up and down as if it were urging you to open the envelope.

     Carefully, you took your finger and pried the envelope open. Inside, you found a folded piece of paper. The texture appeared wrinkly, as if it were previously crumpled before being smoothed out. After removing it from the envelope, you unfolded it and held it in the faint glow of the nearby fireplace so you could see it better.

     You saw what appeared to be a child's drawing, depicting a family of three skeletons. It looked to be drawn by a child slightly older than expected (a second-grader at least), as the drawing did not only seem more detailed, but also had the clear usage of colored pencils instead of crayons.

     The father, who stood to the left, was drawn wearing an olive-grey suit jacket with a light grey turtleneck sweater, and a pair of dark grey dress pants. The mother, who stood on the right, was drawn wearing a jade green sweater with a white collar, and a long ruby-red skirt. You also noticed that the couple's faces were obscured by something dark and opaque smudged over them, making it impossible to tell what their faces actually looked like.

     The child, who stood in the middle, you suddenly recognize as Arial. You recognized her hat and dress, along with...huh? What's this?

     You looked closer, squinting.

     Is that... a blue pearl necklace?

     You stared at the drawing, speechless and confused. Then after a few moments, you resolved that Arial must've once had a necklace just like yours and simply lost it somehow, leading to her running of with yours because it looked just like her original one. That had to be the reason, right?

     But as you went to fold the drawing back up and put it back in the envelope, you spotted something written on the back of the drawing. A part of you somehow expected to see a message like "don't forget" or whatever. But instead, you saw this, written in dark red:

          M O R T I S
          E L E I S O N

     Your obscured eyes widened for a moment, before squinting in confusion. You glanced at the vanilla drawing on the front of the paper, then back to the strange written message again.

          What does this all mean? you wondered.

     But as much as you'd like to dig deeper, you felt that you wasted enough time already. You folded up the drawing, returned to its envelope, put the envelope back inside the photo album, then put the photo album away in its drawer. The bird looked at you as if it was confused at your action, as if it were expecting you to act differently.

     You reached out to collect the bird into your hands again, before continuing towards the exit. But as you passed by the mirror, it happened again. Even though the bird didn't seem to notice, you could've sworn you saw yet another momentary glimpse of a greyscale being following you in the mirror. Though this time, it was hard to tell whether it was a sprouted face or a large bird-shaped creature. You didn't even know if the being was truly there, or if it was just your paranoia. All you know is that you had to get out of this awful place--and this bird might just be the key.

     After exiting the laboratory, you decided to bring the bird down the west stairs into the "movie room"--specifically, the hidden section with the piano. As you trudged across the main basement to the west side, you felt the bird let out a shivering chirp as it fluffed its feathers.

          "Cold, little one?"

     You held the bird closer, allowing it to huddle against your breast. You may not provide much more heat, but it was better than nothing.

     After you went down the west stairs, you were in the "movie room" once again. It was strange how it was slightly warmer down here despite being a sub-basement level--though then again, unlike the corridor that directly led you down to the the main basement, this was a fair distance away due to the decent length of its stairs.

     As you passed through to the hidden room beyond the hole in the wall, you caught a closer look at the golden plaque that hung on the wall. It read:

     For some reason, those engravings sent a chill down your spine.

     As you crawled through the hole in the wall, you were met with the familiar melody of the self-playing piano. Not long after, the bird began to flutter eagerly in your hands.

     The bird seems to like the song, you noticed.

     You approached the piano and held the bird closer so it could hear better. Before long, the bird memorized the melody, singing its rehearsal in the loveliest voice you've ever heard.

     But as you were about to leave, you caught a glimpse of something within the space underneath the piano. Getting down on your knees, you put the bird aside and reached in to pull the object out. It was slightly rusted, blue steel box with a combination lock. What could it possible hold inside, you wonder?

     Then, you happened to recall that number code you found on that slip of paper hidden with the board games.

     2-7-1-8.

     You tried the code on the lock.

     ...It worked!

     After removing the lock and setting it aside, you opened the lid of the box to see what it held within.

     Inside was a strange golden key with an arabesque bow that resembled the clubs card suit, sitting on an indigo-colored velvet cushion that filled out the bottom half of the box. You slowly picked up the key, watching it twinkle in the room's lighting.

     Got CLUBS KEY. 

     Was this... one of the "four arcane keys" that went to that mysterious door? If it was, then the other three must be somewhere else. 
     After putting everything away and retrieving the bird once again, you returned through the hole in the wall to find that the nutcracker was gone without a trace. You wondered where he could've possibly gone. But regardless, you kept moving forward.

     Then after you returned to the main basement, you brought the bird to the strange pair.

          "Can you? Can you sing me the perfect song with the perfect voice?" the tall being asked once more.

     You nodded and allowed the bird to fly into the air, singing its song. The haunting melody drifted through the air, bringing a tear to the strange pair's eyes.

          The short being sniffed. "Man, that's the most beautiful song I've ever heard."

     Suddenly, he pulled out a flintlock pistol, and aimed it at the bird.

     Bang!

     You let out gasp of horror as you watched the bird plummet to the ground, its motionless body staining the snow with blood.

          "Dead things should stay dead, shouldn't they?" the tall being asked in a rather unsettling tone.

          "Let dead things die." the short being agreed.

          "My sentiments exactly! Nyeh-heh-heh!" the tall being cackled.

          "Heh heh heh." the short being cackled.

          "Well, congratulations! You've won, my friend!" said the tall being, "But didn't we all have a smashing good time?"

          "Yeah, what's the rush?" the short being agreed.

          "Why leave so soon?" the tall being asked.

          "After that lovely tune?" the short being added.

          "Say! Why don't you stay awhile?" the tall being asked.

          "Yeah, stay awhile!" the short being agreed.

          "We think you're... cool!" said the tall being.

          "Super cool, too cool for school." the short being added.

          "Well? What do you say?" the tall being asked, extending a hand.

     You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the firestorm they were about to receive.

          "Now hold on just one second." you said firmly, "First, you locked me in here against my will. Then, you forced me to
          perform all these silly and pointless 'favors' in exchange for my freedom. Then, you made fun of my singing voice. And then,
          you shot an innocent bird to death, after we worked so hard to sing you that damned song in a way that satisfies you!"

     You took a few steps forward, which made the two beings shrink back a little.

          "I may be a 'lousy guest', but you two are even lousier hosts." you finished, speaking with such venom in your words that it even surprised you.

     The pair looked at each other for a moment, struggling to respond.

          "So... you won't be staying?" the short being asked.

          "...No." you bluntly replied.

          "No?" the short being repeated in disappointment.

          "You really must go?" the tall being asked.

          "Man, this blows..." the short being muttered.

          You sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can't play anymore. There is someone I need to find, and I refuse to waste any more time with your silly games."

     The two beings stood in crestfallen silence.

          "...Well, we did promise, didn't we?" the tall being asked.

          "Yeah, we kinda did." said the short being.

          The tall being sighed. "You will be missed, my dear friend."

     The two stood in further silence.

          "The door to the outside..." the short being began.

          "It's open now." the tall being finished.

          "You can skedaddle if you want..." said the short being.

          "If you want..." the tall being repeated.

          "...Thank you. Goodbye." you said, turning to leave.

          "Farewell." said the tall being.

          "Catch ya on the flip." said the short being.

     You take the initiative and headed towards the entrance door, stopping to look back at your fallen comrade for a moment.

          I'm sorry, little one, you sadly mused.

     After returning to the door, you tried the knob. To your relief, it was indeed unlocked as promised.

     With that, you finally left the basement, shutting the door behind you.

Chapter Text

    As you re-emerged into what you'd thought would be the freezing cold passage leading back upstairs to the foyer, you instead found yourself in a stretching hallway that seemed to go on forever, with various gaping holes all the way across the floor. The walls and flooring looked just like the basement's, as if you had never left at all.

        This isn't familiar, you thought.

    In spite of it, however, you tried to continue forth anyway. After all, you were quite a nimble being (if you say so yourself). You remember going out early in the morning after breakfast to jump across the enormous rocks that lay embedded in the river, getting some exercise in before heading out on the job. Jumping over those holes shouldn't be that much different, right?

    You tried leaping over a nearby hole. As expected, it was hardly a problem. Feeling brave, you continued leaping over more holes with graceful agility. As you made your way across the corridor, you eventually encountered "Picture Kid" again. They stood before you, on a rather hole-less section of the floor.

        "P-Picture?" they asked.

        You nodded.

    The camera flashed, followed by a new polaroid scrolling out of it.

        "They won't... let you go... you know." they muttered, in a rather ominous fashion.

        "What do you mean?"

    "Picture Kid" did not answer, which only added more tension to the already uneasy air that rouse from their previous words alone. You decided to keep pushing forward, though, leaving them behind. But then, as you continued your "holey parkour", the world around you seemed to jump-cut into a darkened, unknown space. It was so dark, you could barely see a thing.

    As you wandered forth a little, a faint twinkle of two different lights caught the corner of your eye. Turning your head to the direction of whence it came, you saw the shadow of what appeared to be two lanterns on the ground. The lantern on the left was illuminated with an aqua-blue light, while the lantern on the right was illuminated with a pink light. It looked like you were being presented with a choice between the two. After a moment of thinking, you decided to choose the pink lantern. You went over and bent down to take it, picking it up by the handle. It wasn't a heavy lift, which was a plus.

    Got LANTERN (P).

    Holding the lantern up as you continued on, the light reflected against what appeared to be an unknown corridor; with walls and flooring that looked strikingly like that of the old sub-basement laboratory you went into earlier. Confused, you kept walking until you reached a dead end.

        Damn, what now? you wondered.

    You turned around, facing the other way. Looks like you had no choice but to turn back. If you encountered that strange pair again, maybe you could ask them what the hell was going on.

    Proceeding back down the corridor, your obscured eyes drifted around the empty void of darkness out of your lantern's reach. Other than the sound of your echoing footsteps, and the faint creaking of your lantern as it gently swayed in your grasp, there was silence. Absolute silence. An indescribable kind of anxiety began to swell in your chest, and continued to rise as you kept walking.

    Or, to put it simply: you had a bad feeling about this.

    But what you knew for sure, is that it wasn't anything like how you felt when you encountered that strange man upstairs. That was mostly fueled by anticipation, even though the being did not seem hostile in any way. Even though you tried to flee before he had a chance to notice you were there, having no doubt he still heard your footsteps rushing down the stairs... he did not pursue you. He did not attack you. And once that realization came to be, your fears were silenced and you carried on.

    But this was different. This feeling kept rising and rising. It almost felt like... a presence in the air, that grew stronger as you walked back down the corridor. One that felt... angry. Malicious. Hateful.

    Then after a while, you were stopped dead in your tracks. There was something in the shadows before you. As you slowly approached it, the light of your lantern gradually brought it into view.

    ...A crib?

    It was a rather large one, enough to fit at least two occupants. It looked to be made of metal, though incredibly weathered and rusted from age. It was lined with what was once pale white sheets, now soiled and rotted from neglect.

    Suddenly, you heard the sound of a phone ringing. It sounded like it was coming from inside the crib. You carefully approached, and peered inside with the aid of your lantern. Laying nestled in the middle of the rotted bedding was a worn cellphone--and it was still ringing. You looked around for a moment, before slowly reaching into the crib to answer it.

        "...Hello?"

        No response, but eerie-sounding static.

        "Hello?"

        Still no response.

        "Is anyone there?"

        No response, yet again.

        "Hello?"

    Finally, you began to hear something buried beneath the static. It sounded like the voice of a small child, but with a rather... unsettling quality to it.

        "...Why?" the voice garbled.

        "...Why did you leave us?" garbled another, slightly higher-pitched voice.

        "We barely had a chance." garbled the first voice.

    Thinking it was a prank call, you tried to hang up. But it didn't work. The static grew loud enough to hear from the distance that the device currently was.

        "Why did you leave us?" garbled the second voice.

        "We barely had a chance to live." garbled the first voice.

    There was a pause. You thought you heard a noise that sounded like a dial-up modem trying to connect to something, but only for a brief moment.

        "...Why did you leave us, ▋▋▋▋▋?" garbled the second voice, "Why, why, why?"

    The static screeched at that one word the voice spoke, as if it were forbidden to say. But for some reason, it made that awful feeling in your chest drop into your stomach.

    There was another pause.

        "...It's your fault, you know." garbled the first voice.

        "Why did you leave us?" garbled the second voice.

        "Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?" the two voices repeated over and over in unison.

    The phone suddenly emitted an ear-splitting screech, causing you to drop it. You were startled so badly, the lantern you held was dropped as well! It fell to the floor, followed by a loud metallic thud and the sound of glass breaking. The pink light had been snuffed out upon impact, leaving you in the dark once more.

    Then the world around you suddenly fuzzed out and jump-cut back into the hole-filled corridor,  except now the atmosphere was an angry, burning red. The lantern you held had disappeared, but the cellphone was still on the ground before you. You suddenly noticed an unnatural heaviness in your chest, causing you to absentmindedly clutch it. Peeking beneath your spindly begauzed fingers, you saw a strange blue light glowing within your chest.

    You realized that it was your SOUL.

    Your MONSTER SOUL.

    Just then, you obscured eyes darted towards the sound of the dropped cellphone shaking violently. You stepped back as the phone then began to crack and break apart. Then after a few moments, you let out a startled gasp as a pair of large, white, amorphous blobs burst out of the device. The blobs looked like they composed of several nondescript faces, fused together into a horrifying mass of nightmare fuel; bearing a strange scent that vaguely reminded you of batteries. For some reason, you dared not get any closer or even allow physical contact with them.

    You took another step back as the two blobs moved closer to each other, before fusing together as one. This new singular mass began to slowly expand until it was large enough to tower over you, glowing a blinding white. Then, the glowing turned a bright neon red as it morphed into a skeletal shape. You watched as four giant, boney arms sprang out, hands striking the ground with a loud "boom!". Then finally, the glowing subsided to reveal an enormous, partially-melted skeletal creature with sharply-toothed mandibles. It glared down at you, eyesockets radiating a ghastly white glow as they dripped with an inky black substance, piercing your weighted SOUL.

      "Don't leave..." it growled in a voice that sounded like a tone-deepened amalgamation of those two strange beings, "DON'T LEAVE!!!"

    The creature then let out a thunderous shriek as lunged it after you, prompting you to abscond posthaste to get away from it--however, the strange weight in your SOUL gave you some difficulty. You leaped over each hole you came across as fast as your legs could carry you, dodging the creature's furious grasp as it clawed after you. The thing was surprisingly fast despite its larger and bulkier stature. You continued leaping across the holes, adrenaline coursing through your body.

    Narrowly dodging getting slammed to the ground by one of its massive hands as you leaped over another hole, you began to wonder how long this corridor was, and how far the exit was... that is, if there was one at all. Then suddenly, you saw strange bone-shaped obstacles that glowed with an eerie reddish aura emerge from the holes ahead, popping out as if this were a game of "whack-a-mole".

      "Oh, you've got to be kidding." you muttered under your hastened breath.

    But luckily, you were somehow able to jump over these "bone attacks" by focusing said jumps so that they were high enough to bypass the issue.

    You then spotted something in the near distance. It looked like a door.

    The exit!

    Your could feel your SOUL practically leap in excitement as you bolted towards it, only to nearly stumble as an unseen forced stopped you dead in your tracks (though there luckily weren't any holes that you could've fallen in), and pulled you away.

    No! So close!

    You grunted and strained in resistance, desperately trying to reach for the door. But the force was much too strong, making the struggle much too difficult. After a moment of confusion, realization suddenly hit you. This was the work of that creature. It was using blue magic--the signature ability of the skeleton race. That's why your SOUL was glowing blue, why it was feeling heavy. That's why you had to jump over those "bone attacks" on the way here. And now this thing was using it to drag you right into its hideous clutches. It cackled with malicious glee as it then proceeded to reach for you.

    Suddenly, the corridor darkened. The angry, rumbling atmosphere was silenced. Both you and the creature looked around, confused and unnerved, before simultaneously looking toward the foregone hallway. There was an obscured, humanoid shape standing on a substantially hole-less floorspace. The patch of darkness behind them was so deep, nothing beyond it could be seen.

    Just then, the person raised a hand, followed by a row of ceiling-high bones that glowed a strange purplish aura appearing from the floor, separating you and the creature. You nearly stumbled again as your SOUL was suddenly released from its hold; your obscured eyes darting around in confusion as you backed away before making a beeline to the exit.

    Without hesitation, you reached for the knob and opened the door as the trapped creature screeched after you.

    In the white void of your consciousness, you heard the voices of two young boys speaking in unison.

        "Don't forget us...
        Even if you don't like us anymore.
        Please, don't forget us."

    You were finally standing in the welcomed sight of the grey passage that led back upstairs. The atmosphere strangely didn't seem as cold as you remembered, but it was a comfort nonetheless. Sighing with relief, you leaned against the door for a moment's rest. Your legs were aching, your chest was sore, and your head was still swimming.

    What in God's name was that all about?

    After collecting yourself, you began to walk down the passage... until you 
were faced with a familiar sight.

        "Arial!"

    The girl was simply standing there, back turned, head lowered.

        "...They didn't like me anymore." she said.

    Silence.

        "...Ever since those two were born. The twins." she explained, "...Mommy and 'Dings didn't seem to need me anymore."

        Further silence.

        "...So I left." she continued, "...That's why the twins are mad."

    Even further silence.

        "The twins... Mommy and 'Dings... they all died." she uttered.

    The silence grew ominous.

        "...I killed them." she finished, before walking away into the shadows.

        "Hey! Wait!" you called after her, but she was already gone.

    Before you knew it, the world around you faded to white, and you found yourself back outside in the front yard.

        "Arial..."

    You stood there for a moment, silent in thought.

        ...I need to get those pearls back, you resolved.

    You bravely began to march back up the porch steps. Despite everything you've been through thus far, despite what is surely yet to come... you had to get those pearls back. You had to.

    Opening the front door, you entered the house once again to reclaim what was yours.

[ END OF ACT I ]

Chapter Text

     After you re-entered the house, you stood on the welcome mat, looking around the foyer. Empty, quiet, and deceptively ordinary, just as you left it. But you knew better now–and you had the inky black stains to prove it. The golden key you found was still in your inventory as well, with supposedly three yet to be found. Though your main concern was finding Arial and getting your sacred pearls back, maybe… if chance allows it, you’ll find the other three keys and unlock their supposed hidden treasure.

    You skimmed across the first floor in search of the little skeleton, but without any luck. She couldn’t have gone in the basement, either, since the trail of footprints were gone now (and there was no way in hell you were going back). A part of you wanted to check upstairs again, but another part worried that the strange man was still there, blocking the way.

    Though… it wouldn’t hurt to try.

    Taking a deep breath, you slowly climbed the ascending staircase. Once you were near the top step, you peeked around the corner.

    The strange man was gone.

    Slowly and cautiously, you stepped up and entered the hallway. It had a decent-sized length and width, with walls and flooring that were about the same as the foyer’s. A long, complementary-colored rug with a geometric pattern laid draped along the floor; nearly all the way across to the other side. The row of three doors across the north wall were white, pretty much like every other door in this house that didn’t lead outside). And then across the opposite wall were four large windows with rosy-brown curtains, who showed only the dark void of night outside just like the others.

    You decided to check the first and nearmost door–the one that strange man was previously standing in front of. After passing by another artificial-looking potted plant that sat in the corner across from the staircase, you stopped in front of the aforementioned door. Out of courtesy, you decide to knock first.

        “Arial?”

        No answer.

        You knocked again.
        “Arial, are you in there?”

        Still no answer.

    You reluctantly decide to enter the room to see if the girl was inside. Luckily, the door was unlocked, and you quietly proceeded to open it.

    You find yourself in what appeared to be a child’s bedroom, with walls that bore a seashell-pink color. In the middle of the floor was a square-shaped, pastel-colored rug that looked like it belonged in a daycare center. In the top-left corner, you saw a small bed with pink sheets. On the wall above the bed was a small wooden shelf with some stuffed animals on it, and to the immediate right of the bed was a little indigo nightstand with an illuminated lamp.

    Directly south of the bed, in the bottom-left corner, was a small wooden desk and chair. On the desk was a simple, pearly-silver desk lamp; alongside a small, candy-purple cup filled with patterned pencils. One pencil you found was covered in a pattern of green clovers and rainbows, while another was orange with a black bat pattern on it, one with a candy-cane pattern on it, and one with a pattern of holiday lights on it. It was quite a collection, you’d say.

    In the center of the north wall was a small bay window with frilly pink curtains. Within it was a small nook with some comfy-looking pillows; likely used for reading. And speaking of reading, there was another fancy-looking bookcase to the right of the window, except this one was significantly smaller than the rest and had a pearly-white color. It was chock-full of children’s books, three of which who popped out to you for some reason:

    First was a classic story titled “The Wizard of Snoz”.
        I used to love this book, you thought.

    Second was a book titled “A Gyftmas Carol”.
        It’s by a famous man with a famous name, you noticed.

    Third was a popular children’s novel titled “Through the Looking-Closet”, sequel to “Alice in Darkland”.
        I wonder where the first part went, you mused.

    To the right of the bookcase was a little white door covered in a wide disparity of stickers. A closet, it seems. Outfits and dresses were hung inside with pristine care; below some storage shelves filled with toys and childish knickknacks on display. Looking down, you noticed a pile of scattered jigsaw puzzle pieces and playing cards littering the closet floor. The puzzle pieces had colorful yet strange faces on them; while the playing cards, bearing a green and blue color motif, depicted rather unusual creatures as its face cards. Hating to see such a big mess, you decided to “help” by tidying the items up and putting them away (so long as no one minded).

    You managed to find their respective boxes and brought their respective contents inside after you neatly gathered them together. However, there was one playing card missing from the deck that you couldn’t seem to find anywhere–the Ace of Diamonds. But oh well, at least the closet floor was cleaner now. After you put everything back in their boxes, you set them in an empty space on one of the storage shelves, and closed the door.

    In the bottom-right corner, against the east wall, was a large, multi-functional, wooden crib that looked like it was still in good condition; with a gently rotating solar system model hanging above it. As you gazed at the piece of furniture, you couldn’t help but feel a solemn weight in your chest.

    Strewn about on the rug were some toys, such as a small set of rubber duckies, a plastic stacking toy, a small toy xylophone, and a bunch of colorful wooden letter blocks. You noticed that one set of the letter blocks spelled out “M-O-M”, while another spelled out “D-A-D”. There was also a pink rabbit doll with a darker pink ribbon tied around its neck, looking rather ragged and dusty from age.

    You began to surmise that this room belonged to Arial and her two alleged siblings. But it still begged the question: who was that strange man, and why was he “guarding” this door? Did he had any relation to the children? Could he possibly know where Arial was? Maybe you’d gather the courage to ask him if you had another encounter–if he truly was as docile as he seemed.

    Once you were out in the hallway again, you decided to check the other two rooms. As you passed by towards the middle door, you spotted a large portrait hanging on the wall. Though the portrait depicted a family of skeletons: a mom, a dad, their daughter (who stood in the middle between them), and their two young sons (one held in either parent’s arms). All of their faces (except the daughter’s) were obscured by some sort of weird photographic glare, however, making it hard to see what they really looked like.

    But as you looked closer, you suddenly recognize the couple and the girl from that strange drawing you found in the sub-basement laboratory earlier, as they bore the same appearance and attire as was depicted. The only difference was the addition of the little twin boys; dressed in striped shirts (light blue and orange, respectively) and denim overalls. Thus if the girl was indeed Arial, then the couple were indeed her parents–and the two boys, her little brothers. However, while Arial’s face was the only one visible, you couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t smiling for some reason.

    You approached the second door in the row, and politely knocked on it. No answer, yet again. You knocked once more, but still no answer. The door appeared to be unlocked, but you were getting rather tired of being a snoop, so you decided to just skim the room instead.

    Behind the door was what appeared to be another bedroom, with walls that bore a muddy-grey color. There was a large bed with purple sheets on the left side, and another large bed with jade green sheets on the right side. Each of the beds bore a vaguely familiar smell, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. In the middle of the north wall was a large, fancy window with red curtains; yet another display of the void-like night outside. Under the window, between the beds, was a large indigo nightstand with another illuminated lamp on it. There were two more illuminated lamps mounted on the wall; one above each of the two beds. But seeing that nobody was inside, though, you promptly left the room and closed the door behind you.

    As you passed by towards the third and final door, you spotted another family portrait that looked the same as the last one, except the child in the middle (Arial) was blacked out for some reason. There was also another potted plant in the corner by the third door that looked just like the one by the first, adding symmetry to the hallway. After reaching the third door, you tried the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. Though for some reason, the knob felt very warm to the touch, as if it were being heated from the other side. You also saw a faint orange glow leaking through the space beneath the door, and even could’ve sworn you heard the distant sound of steaming, working machines.

        What in the world is going on up there? you wondered.

    You decided to go back downstairs and pace about, stumped on what to do now. But then, by some stroke of luck, you happened to spot a new trail of muddy footprints that seemed to lead out the back door in the living room.

    Curious, you went up to it and tried the knob. It was unlocked.

    Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself as you slowly opened the door, and went through.

    You find yourself standing outside in the backyard on a simple stone path.The area appeared to be some sort of garden. The grass, as well as the leaves on the trees, had a strange blueish tint to them. But strangest of all, despite having seen nothing of the outside while in the house, the sky seemed perfectly normal out here just as it was in the front yard. The stars were twinkling above you, just as you left them.

        “Arial?” you called.

        No answer.

    Suddenly, you heard the door shut and lock behind you.

        Not this again, you sighed.

    After walking down the path a bit, you saw “Picture Kid” again. They were standing off to the left side, in front of a tall wooden pole with two wooden arrow signs. Residing off to the right was a weird-looking she-monster with white fur, sleeping on a fancy blue cushion atop a tall, white pedestal. She resembled some kind of a mix between feline and canine, with cat ears on top of her head and dog ears on the sides. She also had shoulder-length dark grey hair, and wore a light blue Eastern-style shirt with yellow accents. You decided to leave her be for now, and talked to “Picture Kid” instead.

        “P-Picture?” they asked.

        You nodded.

        “Wow! Th-thanks!” they said, holding up their camera and pressing the button.

The camera flashed, followed by a new polaroid scrolling out of it.

    You looked up at the arrow signs mounted on the pole, wondering where they could be pointing to. After squinting a little, this is what you read:

        North –> Pond
        South –> House

    There’s a pond up ahead? Guess you’ll have to check it out.

    As you went further into the garden, you found yourself observing an ethereal mix of a craggy and marsh-like landscape; the likes of which you had never seen before. It was almost like something out of an ancient fairytale. The craggy walls that surrounded the area seemed to be made of wavy blue sandstone (much like that of the crawlspace under the kitchen sink). Some areas of the walls seemed to be encrusted with beautiful blue and pink crystals, glittering in the starlight. Among the blue-tinted grass and trees, you also found what looked like small bioluminescent mushrooms, some patches of blue-tinted sea-grass, and strange bioluminescent flowers here and there as well. The flowers especially caught your attention, as you could’ve sworn you heard the faint sound of whispering voices emitting from them.

    As you walked a bit further, you found what seemed to be the aforementioned pond. The edges were surrounded by blue-tinted reeds, seeming to be everywhere you looked. The dark water that filled the pond was littered with pink-budded aquatic plants; the only plant life  you’ve seen so far that had a normal green tint instead of blue. You then suddenly notice a flat, metallic, arabesque-looking platform before you that looked like one of the hands of a giant clock; forming some kind of bridge across the pond. You decided to try walking across, wondering where it lead.

    Taking a careful step, then two, you were relieved to find it was safe. You continued walking across, minding your balance, and ended up on what seemed to be an “islet”, as well as the other “hand” of this “clock” (seeming to be pointing at 12:30). In the middle of the “islet” was a giant tree with a twisty, silver-white trunk and blue-green leaves.

    Sitting up in the tree, you saw what looked like an arachnid she-monster with pale purple skin and loose, close-cut black hair. She was wearing a lilac-colored kimono with a purple-and-maroon sash, as well as a white mask depicting a feminine face wearing makeup. You saw her hanging from the branches, sitting in some kind of swing or hammock made of spider silk. She clung to the silk with her topmost set of arms, while the other four rested in her lap.

        “Ahuhuhu~” she playfully chuckled, “Back again, dearie~?”

        “…Pardon me?”

        “Come, have a seat.” she beckoned, “I’ll put on the kettle~”

        You blinked your obscured eyes.
        “I’m terribly sorry, but… who are you?”

        She cocked her head.
        “Who am I? Why… hm.”
        She sat there, shifting her posture in thought.
        “Who am I…?”

        “…Have you seen a little skeleton girl dressed in pink around here?”

        “Oh, do you mean little Arial~?” she asked.
        Though you couldn’t see her face, you could sense her demeanor become more solemn.
        “No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her since the accident.”

        “What accident?”

        She didn’t answer, seemingly too lost in thought. You heard her sigh.
        “I’m so worried about my poor colony.”

        “Your colony?”

        “That thing that’s been plaguing this garden… it’s taken my colony, keeping them prisoner in these awful glass jars! It even chased me away from my own web!” she tiraded, “It’s been making a nuisance of itself ever since–!”

    She stopped herself and took a deep breath.

        “Would you please be a dear and free us of that nasty intruder? I would greatly appreciate it~” she sweetly requested, “Just head east from here–you can’t miss it~”

    You stood there in silence as she sat about, humming to herself for a moment.

        “…Oh? Back again, dearie?” she asked, “Have a seat, won’t you? I’ll put on the kettle~”

    You were beginning to question if this spider lady was “right” in the mind, but decided not to worry about it too much. You had some folks to rescue, and a “thing” to get rid of. You cross the bridge to the other side and saw “Picture Kid” again, along with another one of those weird she-monsters sleeping atop a pedestal. You approached her.

        “Ah… excuse me.”

    She stirred awake with a yawn and a stretch, before sitting up on her cushion with an excited grin on her face.

        “hOI!! i’m temmie!!” she cried, “can u tell tem the tim??”

        “The… ‘tim’?”

        “yAYA!!” she replied, “iz it lunch tim, tea tim, dinner tim, or bed tim??”

    Oh, she meant “time”! You were a bit confused because of her… speaking mannerisms.

        After a moment, you answered: “Tea tim…?”

    You heard a loud, metallic, revolving sound in the near distance for a few moments before it stopped.

        “mMM!! goes gud with tem flakes!!” the Temmie proclaimed, before going back to sleep.

    You went down to investigate what happened, and saw the hands of the clock-bridge have shifted to 3:00.

    Huh! So that’s what the “Temmies” were for.

    You curiously crossed the bridge to see where it led. Walking down the path, you encountered “Picture Kid” and another Temmie on a pedestal yet again. Then finally, after a little more walking, find yourself in a small open clearing, covered in spiderwebs.

    Looks like you found the spider colony’s den.

Chapter Text

    The spiderwebs were skillfully weaved around the trees in several forms of construct, almost like a little village. But just as that spider lady said, the establishment seemed to be occupied by an enemy force; as you suddenly saw several glass jars full of spiders lodged here and there between the trees’ branches. The poor things looked terrified, as they were frantically scuttling about within their glass prisons in a vain attempt to escape.

        “HEEEEEEELLLLP!!!” you suddenly heard someone shout.

    You turned toward the direction of where it came from, and saw an animate flower-like creature with a white face surrounded by six pearly-white petals with rosy-pink edges, planted in a pale mauve ceramic vase. It was stuck on a large web towards the heart of the clearing; though not by a wrapping of silk. The surface of the web seemed to have been sticky enough to catch the creature alone, though it seemed to be an unintentional mishap on the spiders’ part (you weren’t even sure that they preyed on talking flowers anyway).

        As the flower-creature struggled, you finally caught its attention.
        “Hey, you!” it shouted.

        “…Me?”

        “Yeah, you! Creep! Get over here!” it barked in a rather rude manner.

    You found a large tree stump that seemed intended to be climbed on, and used it to walk across the web to the hapless creature stuck to it–thankfully it was strong enough to support your weight. But what you found rather odd was that webbing only stuck to you a little bit; not enough to trap you like the angry talking flower. Maybe your boots had traction stronger than the silk? Who knows. But anyhow, you made it to the talking flower with relatively little effort.

        “Get me outta here!” it cried.

        “Ah…”

        “Are you stupid or something?” it cried, “Hurry up! Before they come back!”

        “Who do you mean by ‘they’?”

    Then suddenly, you heard something descending at an alarmingly fast rate, and landed on the web hard enough to jostle it. You turned around to see four humanoid beings conjoined from the waist down, holding themselves up by their hands. The one directly in front of you had pale skin with short platinum blond hair, wearing a silver-white hanbok outfit with a snowy branch pattern; the one facing east had light skin with long red hair, wearing a pink hanbok dress with a lighter pink flower pattern; the one facing away north had darker skin with curly brown hair tied in a bun, wearing a light green hanbok dress with a leaflet pattern; and the one facing west had light olive skin with short wavy dark brown hair, wearing a brown hanbok outfit with an maple leaf pattern. You couldn’t see what their faces looked like as they were obscured by wolf-shaped masks that matched the color scheme of their respective attire.

        “Awooooo!” the one in silver-white howled.

        “Hey, guys! Look who decided to join the fun!” the one in pink declared.

        “You got a lot of nerve, showin’ your face 'round here.” the one in light green sneered.

        “Finally, I’ve been getting tired of squashing spiders and talking flowers.” the one in brown muttered.

        “Ah… are you… humans?” you asked.

        The one in silver-white busted out laughing.
        “Bah-ha-ha-ha! That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard!”

        “Are we humans, they ask!” the one in pink jeered.

        “Of course were are, dummy.” the one in light green huffed.

        “What’s the matter, aren’t you a human, too?” the one in brown asked.

        “Pffft, obviously not!” the one in silver-white said, “Why would they ask if they were one of us? They aren’t one of us, they’re one of them!”

        You sighed and straightened your back. “Excuse me, but would you mind releasing these spiders and that… flower… thing… here?”

        “Thing?!” you heard the flower-creature interject.

        The one in silver-white turned towards the one in pink.
        “Yo, Daisy! Do we mind releasing those dumb spiders?”

        “I dunno, Noel.” said Daisy.
        She turned to the one in light green.
        “Hey, Julia! Same question!”

        “You’re freakin’ right we mind!” said Julia.

        “Hey, anyone else wanna see if this monster can bleed?” the one in brown asked.

        “You shut up, Hunter.” said Daisy.

        “Yeah, can’t you see we’re in the middle of somethin’ here?” Julia added.

        “Oh, yeah? Well, your dress looks stupid!” Hunter protested.

        “Hey!” Julia shouted.

        “Uh…” you trailed, “I thought humans weren’t conjoined together…?”

        “You better freaking believe it!” said Noel.

        “It was that lousy, stupid Sphinx!” said Daisy.

        “I told y'all she was magic!” said Julia.

        “So bored…” Hunter muttered under his breath.

        “We used to be free humans, man!” said Noel, “We went where we wanted, did what we wanted, whenever we wanted!”

        “But that gosh darned, liver-eyed, yellow-bellied hag of a Sphinx stitched us together!” said Daisy, “And we’ve been forced to drag ourselves around this stupid garden ever since!”

        “I told y'all she was trouble!” said Julia.

        “THAT’S IT!” Hunter shouted, “I’ve had it up to here with you three! Do you dummies ever shut up?!”

    As you watched this “human amalgamate” bicker amongst themselves, you heard the talking flower discreetly attempt to get your attention.

        “Psst! Hey, creep!” it whispered.

        “…Yes?”

        “Tell them you’ll go ask the Sphinx for a cure!” it said, “It’s our only chance for escape!”

        You stood there in silence.

        “What? You don’t believe me?” it complained, “Fine, it’s not like I want to be saved by a creep like you, anyways!”

    After a moment of consideration, you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to try. Steeling yourself, you approached the still-bickering humans.

        “I’m sick of you idiots dragging me down!” Noel complained.

        “You’re one to talk, cracker!” cried Daisy.

        “I never liked any of y'all!” Julia shouted.

        You cleared your throat.
        “…Excuse me.”

        “Whaddaya want, monster?” Hunter grumbled.

        “…I can ask the Sphinx for a cure.” you offered.

        “…You’ll do what?” Noel asked, surprised.

        “Are you insane?!” said Daisy.

        “She’ll tear you to pieces, man!” said Julia.

        “Yeah, that’s our job!” Hunter added.

        “But… bein’ free of these idiots would be nice…” Noel conceded.

        “Very well.” you said, “However, in exchange for my help, you must free the spider colony, leave this garden, and never return. Deal?”

        “…Fine!” Daisy grumbled, “Just go talk to the Sphinx!”

        “But you’d better come back.” Julia warned.

        “Or we’ll dust you.” Hunter added.

        Oy! What about me?!“ the flower creature cried in the background.

        "We’ll be keepin’ this here too, 'til you come back.” said Noel.

    With that, you walked back across the web to the tree stump. As you passed by the “human amalgamate”, you looked back for a moment.

        “Don’t you dare ask us how we go to the bathroom.” Hunter remarked.

    You uttered a small grunt as you climbed on the stump and jumped down. You cross back over to the “islet” in the center of the pond, where the spider lady resided, and noticed that she was now hanging upside down with her lower body wrapped in what you’d assume to be her own silk–which was rather odd. You heard her sigh as she dangled there.

        “All day, we wait…” she muttered, “Wait all day for daddy to come home.”

    You crossed over to the north side, in front of the Temmie again. Since up here in the north was what looked like the entrance to some sort of blue-tinted hedge maze, the house being in the south, and the spider colony’s den in the east, then the Sphinx’s location must be in the west.

        “hOI!! i’m temmie!!” said the Temmie after you woke her up, “can u tell tem the tim??”

        This time, you answered: “…Bed tim?”

    You heard that familiar metallic revolving sound again for a moment, before it stopped.

        “but tem don’t wanna go 2 slep!!” the Temmie complained… before going right back to sleep.

    You then notice the young, caprine-looking monster that had been “guarding” the entrance to the maze, wearing a fancy red suit with white cuffs, white collar, and white jabot; his face completely obscured with a large, horned animal skull. It almost made him seem as if he were undead, for some reason, though it was uncertain to tell due to the white gloves he wore with his suit.

        “Grrr… I’m so angry.” he grumbled under his breath.

    You decided to leave him be, and headed down to the clock again. The hands have shifted to 9:00 now, forming a bridge to the west side of the garden. You took a moment to quell your uncertainty over what’s to come before crossing over the bridge, passing by “Picture Kid” and another Temmie on a pedestal again. The walk was surprisingly pleasant, in spite of your lingering worry of how the visit would go. The Sphinx didn’t sound like someone you’d want to cross, to say the least. But on the other hand, if she was able to “stitch” those humans together, she clearly was a magic user–and if she was a magic user, then she must be a monster just like you. Surely a fellow monster could reason with her, right?

        Then suddenly, you heard a cheerful, feminine voice call out to you.
        “Hello!”

    You turned your head to the right, where you heard it come from, and saw a bivalve she-monster standing there. She had a light blue “shell” with lighter blue edges; surrounding a grinning, golden-yellow “pearl” for a head. On top of her head was a small, light green “leaf” attached to it, making her head almost look like a piece of fruit. The majority of her body was the same light blue color as her “shell”, with a (barely exposed) neckline of the same golden-yellow color as her “pearl”. She was wearing a blue short-sleeved changshan dress with lighter blue accents, matching the garden’s oriental motif.

        “Where you off to?” she asked.

        “I’m off to see the Sphinx.”

        “Ah, is that so?“ she asked, "Have you met her before?”

        “No, I haven’t.”

        “Hm… well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It seems fate found a way to guide you to her anyhow.” she said, “In life’s grand scheme, she may be the reason why you came to the garden in the first place.”

        “What does that mean?”

        “That’s for you to find out, my friend.” she cryptically answered, “Well, good luck!”

        “Ah… thank you. Goodbye.”

    With that, you continued on your way. But as you walked on, you heard a strange giggle from behind, followed by an equally strange sound that reminded you of someone teleporting. You turned around to see what happened, and noticed that the she-monster you just talked to was gone, as if she was never there.

        Okay, this is getting too weird, you thought.

    You kept walking down the stone path for a bit longer, until you reached what appeared to be a meadow of tiny glowing flowers. The flowers were glowing a brilliant scarlet color; a rather unusual sight compared to the blueish tint of the garden’s other flora. A massive black tree with bare branches stood rooted in the middle of the meadow, surrounded by a blueish-purple stone block edging. The soil around the tree was littered with reddish-pink leaves, presumably having fallen from the tree’s own branches.

    As you looked around, you noticed a small building that looked like an old shrine with a rotting wooden exterior, located  north of the big tree. The outside of the shrine was illuminated with the soft glow of red lanterns hung over either side of the doorway, leading to the wide-open entrance inside.

        This must be where the Sphinx lives, you thought.

    You slowly approached the entrance of the shrine, standing on the doorstep for a moment. Then, steeling yourself, you went inside.

    The interior of the shrine was rather minimalist. Its walls were made of old white bricks, with old hardwood flooring that was mostly covered up by a large tatami mat. In the top-left corner was a painted folding screen, though you couldn’t tell what was behind it. A few feet south from the screen was a vase with flowers (but also, uh, without) sitting on a small table. A large red lantern hung overhead, providing light to the shrine’s interior. Standing near the top-right corner, across from the folding screen, stood a big, tall, caprine she-monster. She wore a red floral kimono with a purple-and-white striped sash, and matching red eyeliner that highlighted her piercing gaze. Indeed, she had the air of great elegance, but also great power.

    With mindful caution, you approached her. She greets you with a pleasantly surprised smile, as if she were expecting your arrival this whole time.

        “Ah… ze girl returns.” she said.

        “’Returns’? What do you mean?”

        “Oh? Ze girl does not remember?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

        “Ah… I’m terribly sorry, but… I don’t believe I am who you think I am.”

        “Hm… perhaps ze woman is mistaken.” she conceded,  "If zat is so, zen… what does ze guest call zemself?“

        "I’m… the… riverman.”

        “Ah.” she said, “And has ze 'riverman’… come for ze woman’s SOUL?” she asked in a midly amused tone.

        “…Er, no.”

    This was the second time somebody incorrectly assumed you have come to take their SOUL. You were but a simple riverman, not the Grim Reaper.

        “Are you the Sphinx, by any chance?”

        “Some call zis one zat, yes.” she affirmed, “But zis one calls herself… ze woman.”

        You simply stared in silence.

        “Now, ze riverman has come to ask if ze woman will separate ze humans, no?” she asked.

        “How did you know?”

        “Ze woman knows many things.” she explained, “However, she cannot honor ze rivermans’s request.

        ”…Why not?“

        "Vile creatures, humans.” she said in cold tone, “Zey must pay for what zey have done.”

        “What exactly did they do?”

        “However…” she said, ignoring your question, “It has been too long since ze woman has seen a red snail.”

        “A what?”

        “A red snail!” she repeated, “Nothing would make ze woman happier. If ze riverman brings ze woman a red snail, then perhaps ze woman will separate ze humans.”

        “…Okay, where can I find a red snail?”

        “Ze riverman can find ze red snail if zey enters ze hedge maze. It should be in ze northern part of ze garden.” she explained, “But bewarned! Ze riverman may not come back out. Now off zey go!”

    You promptly left the shrine and walked back down to the clock bridge and across the “islet” once again, passing by the spider lady.

        “Mind the flowers, dearie. Some of them don’t like being stepped on.” she said, “Don’t get lost now~”

    You could’ve sworn that silk around her body was covering more of her, but you decided to ignore it. However, as you start to cross over to the north side of the garden, you heard one of those strange whispering flowers utter something in the spider lady’s voice:

        “Doctor Alphys says I’m not well.”
        “Doctor Alphys says I’m not well.”
        “Doctor Alphys says I’m not well.”

    Hearing the message, you began to worry if the spider lady was okay. She was acting rather strange (well, even stranger than before), and it made you worry that something was wrong with her that she’s not telling you. But you still had a spider colony to save, and a conjoined group of humans to expel.

    You went up and found what you surmised to be the entrance to the hedge maze. The caprine boy with the horned skull was gone now, leaving the entrance free to enter. As you approached the maze, “Picture Kid” noticed your presence.

        “A-Are you going in the hedge maze?” they asked.

        “…Yes.”

        “Y-You shouldn’t.“ they said in a mildly nervous tone.

        "But I must. I made a bargain with the Sphinx that I must fulfill.”

        “Oh… okay.” they conceded, “Just b-be careful in th-there, ha ha.”

        “I will.”

    You approached the entrance of the maze, stopping for a moment. It looked enormous inside. In spite of your doubts, though, you refused to let that stop you and stepped in there anyway. You are a person of your word, after all, and you are not one to break it.

Chapter Text

     The maze seemed a lot bigger than you'd thought it would be. Lush, winding walls of blue-tinted leaves were all around you, everywhere you looked. You also saw tiny flowers that glowed red, yellow, and violet-blue here and there; some growing in close patches. Heeding the spider lady's warning, you tried not to step on them as best as you could--though it proved to be difficult because of how frequently they appeared.

    As you traversed the maze, you encountered a large pearly-white snail with a dainty flower pattern on its shell hanging out in front of a dead-end.

        "Mind the flowers, dearie." it said, "Or else you might get lost."

    You turned back and wandered around some more, growing a bit frustrated at your lack of progress. After a little while, you found another snail that looked identical to the first one, hanging out in front of another dead-end.

        "The young master has quite a temper." it said, "He wants to fight... But he runs away instead."

    You wandered around a bit more, and encountered yet another snail that looked identical to the first two. It sat in the middle of a path between two dead-ends.

        "I used to be beautiful." it lamented, "But now look at me..."

    Suddenly, you heard an eerie wailing noise. Peeking around the corner, you saw some sort of white "bedsheet ghost" with big, wide eyes floating around nearby. Though it seemed harmless, you didn't want to take any chances. After all, why was it moving back and forth like that? Was it patrolling the area? Was it there to guard something? Either way, you tried to avoid it just to be safe.

    As you now began to sneak through the maze, you stumbled upon a little wooden sign posted in a right-angled corner of it. It said:

        “You told me I was sick.
        You didn't mean it.
        Did you?”

    You didn't mean it.
    For some reason, those words echoed in your mind.

    The "bedsheet ghost" nearly got in your way here and there as you continued to sneak about, causing you to duck behind one of the hedges. You peered from behind your cover, and sighed with relief when the ghost floated away. That damned thing seemed to be everywhere, as if it has been teleporting around looking for intruders. But that didn't quite seem to add up, however, as you were only going by vague recollection.

    So what was really going on here?

    You pondered for a moment, before your gaze drifted over to a nearby patch of glowing flowers. After putting two-and-two together, you facepalmed. The flowers! Of course! They were teleporting you around the maze! That's why the spider lady and that one snail told you to be careful! That's why your progress had been taking so long! How did you not figure this out sooner?

    You took a deep breath. It's okay. Don't panic. You can figure this out. You just need to memorize things you have seen in this maze, and use them like how people used landmarks to find their way while they drive around an unfamiliar area. The snails, that wooden sign... sigh, even those stupid flowers--anything could help. You just had to remember where they were.

    Come on, you can do this.

    You were filled with TENACITY.

    So you braved the twisting and turning corridors of the maze, trying to backtrack so you could make mental notes of where things were. You remembered that the snails were sitting in front of (or between) dead-ends, and that wooden sign in a right-leaning corner of the maze. You also manage to recall that those "teleporting flowers" were usually (if not always) in patches of red and yellow, and kept reminding yourself of that as you went about.

    But then, as you passed by another corridor, something caught your attention--something stuck inside one of the hedges. You went over to reach in and pull it out, wondering what it was.

    It was a faded piece of ribbon.

        Where did this come from? you wondered.

    You turn and saw something else caught in a nearby hedge, going over to pull it out as well.

    It was a toy knife made of plastic.

    As you continued walking about, you found even more odd items stuck in the hedges.

     A bandanna that looked like it had abdominal muscles drawn on it.

     A worn pink glove with five fingers.

     An old tutu.

     A pair of ballet shoes.

     A cracked pair of cloudy glasses.

     A dirty torn notebook.

     A stained kitchen apron.

     A burnt frying pan.

     A battle-worn cowboy hat.

     An antique revolver gun with no ammo (not the same as the one that your poor bird friend had been shot with).

     And last but not least, what looked like a little golden heart locket that said "Best Friends Forever" inside.

    These items seemed to have been stuck in those hedges for quite a while, with no apparent rhyme or reason. But then again, maybe they, too, can help you keep track of where you've already been. It would be no use to take them with you anyhow, since you wanted to have room in your inventory for things you actually needed.

    Although that locket... there was something peculiar about it. You pondered about it for a moment, before deciding to make an exception.

    Got HEART LOCKET.

    Then, at long last, after what seemed like an endless trek from hell, you reached what appeared to be the heart of the maze. Guarding it was that caprine boy with the horned skull you saw earlier, who had originally guarded the entrance to the maze itself. He stood firm in your way, absolutely refusing to let you pass.

        "Grrr... I'm so angry." he grumbled.

        "Ah, hello."

        "Grrr..." he continued.

        "Ah... the Sphinx sent me to--"

        "What?" he interrupted, "The Sphinx sent you?"
        He clenched his fists in anger.
        "I... HATE... HER! GET OUT!"

    A little put off by the boy's outburst, you took a deep, patient breath and tried again.

        "...Do you know where I can find a red snail?"

        "Nobody is seeing any red snail without a password!" he declared, "You got the password?"

        You cringed as you tried to think of an answer, but ended up shaking your head.

        "Grrr..." he grumbled, "I don't have time for this."

    You walked off to pace a bit, wondering how you could possibly figure out the password to get through. Come to think of it, this sounded quite similar to one of those "favors" you did for the strange pair in the basement, where you were requested to tell them the name of that one dog. And to do that, you had to go search for clues in another part of the area. There was those three snails hanging out in the maze, so... maybe you could ask them for advice?

    ...Aha! That's it! You'll consult the snails!

    You sneaked around the maze, avoiding that "bedsheet ghost" that patrolled through the lush corridors as you went looking for each of the three snails again. Eventually, you did.

        "He really misses her, the poor boy." the first snail mused.

        "You want to know the password?” asked the second snail, “I'll give you a hint. Everyone has one."

         "”The billy-goat son, he writhes; He retains the snails; As women rest hither.’” rambled the third snail, "Ooh, I got it all mixed up! If only I could remember..."

        With all the hints you gathered, you took a moment to use them to figure out the password you needed. When you think you had the answer, you returned to the heart of the maze, where the caprine boy blocked your path.

        "You got the password?" he asked again.

        You took a moment to go over the hints one last time. Then finally, you answered:
        "Is it... 'mother'?"

        The boy's hollow eyes flickered with shock, before he crossed his arms with a pout.
        "Humph, you're smarter than the humans." he conceded, "...But I'm still not letting you through!"

        You put your hands on your hips. "And why would that be?"

        "You gotta give me something, too." he replied, turning up his snout in a haughty fashion.

        "Like what?"

        "Like... I dunno... a heart locket~?" he replied.

    Aha! Good thing you grabbed that item when you did.

        "Actually," you said as you pulled the locket out, "I have one right here."

        The boy's hollow eyes widened, mouth agape.
        "Give it to me!" he demanded, holding his hand out.

        "I will," you replied, "If you promise to let me through."

        "Fine, fine, just give me the locket!" he insisted.

    He swiftly took the item from your hand the moment you lowered it toward his reach, holding it up in the air.

        "Yahooooo! I got it! I finally got it!" he shouted victoriously.

    With that, you watched him clutch the locket greedily, before vanishing away.

        "Smell ya later!" you heard him say.

    You passed through the now open entrance to the heart of the maze, and found what lied within the heart of the maze at last.

Chapter Text

    After reaching the heart of the maze, you found yourself in an open area. There was a small, ornate pond (that looked rather deep for one of its kind) with a peculiar-looking face at the bottom; and with lily-pads floating on the water. On either side of the pond, there was a tall pillar, each with an intricately-made jar sitting atop them. You noticed that the jar on the left looked significantly larger than the other for some odd reason.

    Then, as you passed by the pond, you saw it. A snail that looked just like the ones out in the maze… but red.

    You found it! You found the red snail!

    The poor little gastropod appeared to be trapped within a birdcage-like prison, seeming like it had been there for a while.

        “She locked me in here, she did!” it cried, “Please, help me!”

    To the left of the cage, there was a stone birdbath without any water in it. And to the right of the cage, there was another wooden sign. It said:

        “Fill with just four.
        No less, no more.”

        Do these things always have to rhyme? you sighed.

    Turning around, you looked over at the jars sitting on their respective pillars, before going up to examine them.

        Maybe I can do something with these, you thought.

    You go over to pick up the smaller jar. Oh dear, it was quite a cumbersome lift! Nearly straining yourself, you looked inside. It looked like it could hold three quarts of water. You put the smaller jar back and went over to the bigger one. Steeling yourself, you picked it up.

    …Oof!  

    Nearly groaning in discomfort, you peered inside the larger jar to see how deep it was so you could get it back on its pillar already. It looked like it could hold five quarts of water. You put the jar back on its pillar, sighing with relief from the burden. However, it seemed that neither of the jars could hold the amount of water that you needed–which is four. How on earth are you going to solve this?

    You took a few steps back, observing the two jars on their pillars. Phew, okay. You can do this. You’re a smart cookie. You can figure this out.

     After a few moments of pondering and calculating, you came up with a plan. First, you took the smaller jar and filled it with water from the pond, then you went over and poured its contents into the larger jar. You refilled the smaller jar and poured its contents into the larger jar again. Only one quart remained in the smaller jar this time, as larger jar was full now. You put the smaller jar back on its pillar, then emptied the larger jar. You put the larger jar back on its pillar, before grabbing the smaller jar again to dump its single quart of water into the larger jar. You then filled the smaller jar again, and poured its contents into the larger jar one last time.

    Now you should have four quarts of water to fill the birdbath!

    You put the smaller jar back on its pillar and took the larger jar full of water. Hoping that your mathematical thinking paid off, you heaved the nearly-full jar over to the birdbath, and dumped the water inside it.

    …It worked!

    You heard a metallic click, and the cage over the red snail lifted. The emancipated snail slither out into the open, before stopping to face you.

        “Thanks for freeing me!” it said, “She locked me up because she said I was stupid.”
        Its eyestalks swayed back and forth.
        “Well, I may be half as bright…”
        Its swaying eyestalks stopped and “springed” happily.
        “…But I’ve got twice the heart in this shell of mine!”
        It slithered closer to you.
        “Hey, are we friends now? I love you!”

        “Ah…” you trailed, “…Sure, why not?”

        “Yay! I’ll never leave you, best friend!” the snail cheered, “Let’s go!”

    You picked the snail off of the ground and set it on your shoulder, where it nuzzled you with one of its eyestalks.

    Got RED SNAIL.

    You put the jar you were holding back on its pillar. But as you did, you saw something glittering from somewhere inside the pond. You went over to lean closer. There was something small and shiny sitting in the bottom. Dipping your hand into the water, you leaned closer to reach for the object (being careful not to fall in).

    After you finally succeeded in grabbing the object, you pulled it out of the water to see what it was. There, laying in your wettened hand, was a partially dirty golden key with an arabesque, heart-shaped bow. Another one of those “four arcane keys”, it seems.

    Got HEARTS KEY.

        “Ooh!” the snail remarked, “I wonder what it’s for?”

        “Well, I supposed we’ll have to find out.” you replied as you used your sleeve to clean the key off, before putting it away.

    You then finally exited the area and back into the maze. While you made your way through the winding walls of leaves, the red snail remained seated on your shoulder, humming to itself contentedly. You decided to visit the other snails one last time, since you probably won’t be seeing them again.

        “I wonder… Does she miss him, too?” the first snail mused.

        “You’ve found it! You’ve found her heart!” the second snail cheered.

        “…I remember now!” said the third snail,The answer is ‘mother’.”
        But you had already figured that out by now. Whoops.

    Finally, you found your way back out the entrance and into the garden. As you re-emerged, with the red snail on your shoulder, you saw “Picture Kid” standing there, mouth agape in surprise.

        “You… you made it!” they said, “C-Can I take a  p-picture?”

        You nodded.

        “Wow! Th-thanks!” they said, and held up their camera to press the button.

    The camera flashed, followed by a new polaroid scrolling out of it.

        “Ooh! I love pictures!” the red snail remarked.

        “Huh? Who s-said that?” asked “Picture Kid”.

        “Oh, this is my… new friend.” you explained.

        “Hiya!” the red snail greeted to them.

        “I’m taking it back to the Sphinx per her request.” you said.

        “Oh, w-well then, have f-fun, ha ha.” said “Picture Kid”.

        “Bye-bye!” the red snail called to them as you brought it with you back to the clock.

    As you passed by the spider lady’s tree, you noticed that she wasn’t there anymore. All there was is a giant silk cocoon hanging from the branches, with a vaguely humanoid form inside. You wondered how the spider lady was going to go home and reunite with her colony if she wasn’t even here–but on the other hand, she couldn’t do so anyway until you got rid of that “human amalgamate”.

    You proceeded across the clock-bridge back to the shrine, bringing the red snail inside, where the Sphinx was waiting for you.

        “Ah, ze riverman returns!” she said, “Do zey bring ze red snail?”

    You nodded, reaching to pluck the scarlet-shelled gastropod off of your shoulder to show it to her, leaving a small amount of slimy residue on your shoulder.

        “Oh? Give ze snail to ze woman.” she said.

    You set the snail on the floor, watching it slither up towards the Sphinx’s feet.

        “Hello!” it greeted her, “How do you know my friend?”

        “Ahh, a fine color on zis one!” said the Sphinx, “Follow ze woman, please.”

        “Have you met my new friend?” the snail rambled, “Aren’t they just the greatest? I love them!”

    You watched as the snail followed the Sphinx behind the folding screen, wondering what she intended to do with it. Once the two of them were behind the screen, all you could see were shadows. The air fell dead silent as you watched the Sphinx’s shadow turn to face the snail.

        “…Hello?” you heard it call to her in an uneased tone.

    Watching the shadows, you saw the Sphinx pick up the snail with her massive paws. The atmosphere began to pulsate with an eerie red color. A pounding, rhythmic sound, in unison. It almost felt like you were inside a beating heart.

    The Sphinx continued holding the snail at eye-level.

    The snail began to squirm in her grasp.

    The reddened pounding in the air grew faster.

    After a few moments, the Sphinx began to open her mouth. Her jaws, spreading wider.

    The pounding grew even faster.

    And then, before the snail could react, it was shoved into the Sphinx’s gaping maw; swallowed whole in one, big, squelching gulp–shell and all.

    The reddened pounding finally cut silent.

    Stiffened with horror, you watched as the Sphinx’s shadow doubled over as she took a gasp for air, panting in exhaustion from the feat. She slowly re-emerged from behind the folding screen, still breathing heavily, clutching her chest and belly. Wiping the excess snail residue from her muzzle, she calmed down enough to speak again.

        “…Zis woman abandoned her heart long ago.” she muttered solemnly.
        She let out a quiet, yet audible sob.
        “…Ze resolve of a woman must be strong.”
        She let out another sob.
        “Ze woman is so sorry… Ze woman is so…”

        You simply stared at her.

        “Ze resolve of a woman must be strong!” she said again in a more determined voice, “Now! Ze riverman has done as zey were asked, no? So! Ze woman will honor ze deal.”

    She hands you an ancient-looking scroll with a bright red ribbon tied around it.

        “Here! Zis magic scroll will remove ze curse!” she said.

    Got MAGIC SCROLL.

        “Surely… yes, surely.” the Sphinx said thoughtfully, “Ze humans… ze humans must know better.”

    Gazing at her in silence for a moment, you left the shrine and returned to the clock-bridge. Crossing over to the north side, you woke up the local Temmie and told her that it was “tea tim” again. Then, with the scroll in hand, you crossed the bridge and returned to the spider colony’s den.

Chapter Text

     Once you were back in the familiar sight of silk-covered trees, you found the big web again and climbed onto it using the stump. The angry talking flower and the “human amalgamate” were still there, waiting for you.

        “Back, are ya?” Noel rudely greeted, “What took you so long?”

        “Didja talk to the Sphinx?” Daisy asked.

        “Pffft! No way!” Julia huffed.

        “Nobody messes with the Sphinx and comes back in one piece!” said Hunter.

        “We did…” Noel lamented.

        “Yeah, we dusted her kid and look at us now! Sittin’ pretty in one piece!” said Daisy.

        “Actually…”
        You held up the magic scroll and showed it to them.
        “She gave me this to remove your curse.”

        “…She did what now?” Julia asked, surprised.

        “Hey, maybe you monsters aren’t so bad after all!” Hunter cheered.

        “I always believed in them!” Noel added.

        “Now set us free!” said Daisy.

        “Ahem!” the talking flower interrupted.

        “Alright, alright, we’ll let the demon-plant go.” said Julia.

        “But only after you set us free!” said Hunter.

        “Okay…” you breathed, collecting your composure.

    You took a few steps back, and untied the ribbon from the scroll. Then after opening it up, you took a long, deep inhale and began to read it out loud:

        “Frustration, Cowardice, Dishonesty, Irresolution,
        Cruelty, Vengeance, and Spite,
        The seven fallen angels shall pull ye apart,
        And set ye free unto the fate ye deserve.”

    Upon finishing, the atmosphere began to glow an eerie red color. Then, you saw a pair of mysterious glowing symbols (喇叭) appear above the “human amalgamate”, followed by an unseen force slashing through the conjoined segment of their bodies.

    Everything suddenly cut to black for a moment, and you heard the Sphinx’s words echo.

        “Ze humans must know better.
        Say goodbye to ze seasons.”

    Then, as the world began to fade back into view, you heard the four humans groaning in pain and displeasure.

        “Ugh… That stupid Sphinx…” you heard Noel grumble.

    Then, after everything fully came back into view, you were standing in front of the four once-fused humans laying on the web, separated… but with no legs. You stood there with the scroll still in your hand, shocked at the sight of what you had done.

        “You… You… did this to us…” Noel growled.

        “Now’s our chance! Hurry up and get me loose!” the talking flower cried.

    You put the scroll away and went over to pull the flower up from its silky prison, then took it over to the stump, putting it down.

        “Ha ha ha, sucker!” it shouted with glee as it hopped down and out of sight.

    You turn around to face the four humans, who were still laying on the web, groaning.

        “You… did this.” said Noel, before fading away.

        “We should’ve dusted you… when we had the chance…” said Daisy, before fading away as well.

        “We… trusted you.” said Julia, before fading away like the other two.

        “That stupid Sphinx… I’ll dust her if it’s the last thing I do…” said Hunter, before fading away last.

    The web was now empty. The enemy occupation had finally ceased. The garden was finally safe at last. Now all that was left was freeing the spiders from their glass prisons.

    One by one, you took the jars and unscrewed their lids, gently dumping the spiders out on the ground. Some of them jumped straight down, while others drifted down with a thread of silk. After you unscrewed and dumped all of the jars, the spiders gleefully scuttled about their lair, happy to be free at last.

    Then suddenly, you watched as a large group of spiders scuttled together to weave something in front of you. It looked like they were spelling something out (like in that one book about a spider and a pig). When the spiders were finished weaving, this is what their little “message” said:

        T H A N K

        Y O U !

        ♥

    You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture.

        “You’re very welcome, little ones. Stay safe, alright?”

    You waved goodbye to the spiders, some waving back with their little front legs, before leaving to return to the clock-bridge. Now that this ordeal was over, you can hopefully get back in the house and look for Arial.

    When you finally returned to clock-bridge, you talked to “Picture Kid” one last time.

        “P-Picture?” they asked.

        You nodded.

        They held up their camera and pressed the button.

        The camera flashed, followed by a new polaroid scrolling out of it.

        “Y-You have to leave, n-now…” they warned, “H-Hurry, before sh-she comes…”

    You went over to talk to the Temmie, but she wouldn’t wake up from her slumber.

        “D-Don’t worry about T-Temmie,” said “Picture Kid”, “She already s-set the clock for you. Now h-hurry!”

    Heeding their word, you promptly went down to cross the bridge and over the “islet” back to the house. You noticed that the clock’s hands were set to 3:30, giving you an easy out just as “Picture Kid” implied. As you passed by the spider lady’s tree, you noticed that the silky cocoon was empty now, leaving behind a trail of nasty, slimy, greenish-brown substance.

        Ugh… whoever left this cocoon sure made a mess, you thought.

    Then, you found something glittering inside the husk. It looked like it was a little key. Reluctantly reaching into the icky residue, you grabbed it.

    Got DOOR KEY.

    You hurried across the clock-bridge back to the house. Neither "Picture Kid" nor the Temmie that sat upon the pillar were there. Without hesitation, you went to use the slime-covered key on the door to get back inside before--

        “Arial?!” called a hideous-sounding voice from the near distance. It sounded like a fusion of the spider lady’s and the Sphinx’s; overlapping with one another.

    You turned around to see the big, scary-looking, shadowy form of an unknown creature scuttling by. Though it was hard to tell what it looked like by your current angle, you could vaguely make out the shape of the Sphinx, but with a strangely bulky lower body that seemed to make the figure a bit bigger and taller than the “original”.

    The creature continued scuttling into your line of sight, seeming to be looking for something–or someone.

        “Do they see Arial?” it called out, “They say they miss you!”

    The creature then noticed you standing there, and scuttled up to you. After finally seeing it in a clearer angle, you nearly gag in horror.

    The creature did indeed look like an amalgamation of the Sphinx and that spider lady, only much, much more hideous. She had the upper body of the Sphinx, except with fur of a more purplish tint, and having the short black hair of the spider lady. She has five creepy purplish-black eyes with long eyelashes; her drooling muzzle protruding with several ugly, crooked fangs. Her lower body seemed to be that of a giant spider’s, bearing a dark purple color with six black legs. The creature was indeed quite a bit bigger than her “original components”, seeming to stand at least two heads taller than you.

    You watched her warily as she stood there, clutching the key behind your back.

        “Are you Arial?” she asked, her five eyes blinking in succession.

        Your SOUL pounded nervously as you struggled to keep your composure. Then, taking a deep breath, you said:
        “…No.”

        “That’s right!” she boldly agreed, “You don’t look like Arial at all!”

    You watched as she continued on her way, letting out a small sigh of relief.

        “Arial… why did you leave?” she called out in an almost disheartened voice, “They wanted to hold you. They loved you very much.”

    They loved you very much.
    For some reason, those words echoed in your mind.

        “Arial, where are you?” the creature wailed as she disappeared from sight.

    Standing there in silence for a moment, you turned back to the door and tried to use the key to unlock it.

        The key fits, you sighed in relief.

    After hearing the sweet, sweet click of the lock opening, you finally entered back into the house at last.

    In the white void of your consciousness, you heard a woman’s voice.

        “Even if you look a little different…
        I hope…
        That I don’t look so different to you.”

    You found yourself within the familiar scene of Arial standing with her back turned to you, except now in a narrowed version of the entrance into the living room.

        “Make sure you take good care of them.” you heard her say, “Those are the most special blue pearls in the world.”
        She turned around and began to approach you.
        “By-the-by, what’s your name?”

        You didn’t answer.

        Arial stepped closer.
        “What’s your name?” she asked again.

        “…My name?”

        Arial stepped closer, stopping right in front of you.
        “What’s your name?” she asked once more.

    You stood silent for a moment. Then, your slowly reached up to take hold of your face-obscuring hood. Then hesitantly, you lowered it; revealing a feminine, skeletal face much like hers, but older and much more haggard. You also revealed that you didn’t have two-eyed vision, but one; as your left eyesocket was wrapped with the same kind of gauze as that which wrapped around your hands and arms.

        Staring at the girl with a listless gaze, you replied, in your true, feminine voice:
        “…Arial.”

        “Arial? That’s…”
        She suddenly turned greyscale and empty-eyed, smiling sadly.
        “…A lovely name.”

    The world glitches out for a split second. You watched as “Arial” disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then, before you knew it, everything faded to white again, and found yourself standing in the front yard once more.

    Silently gazing at the house, you took a quiet, yet deep breath.

        …I need to get those pearls back, you instinctively resolved.

    You walked up the porch steps, approached the front door, and entered the house once again…

    …with your true name finally known.

[ END OF ACT II ]

Chapter Text

      You stood in the foyer, observing everything around you. A faint flicker of light, returning to your hollowed gaze. It made sense now. The reason why nobody seemed to mind you entering and snooping around this house, is because it's (apparently) your house.

      You still didn't know what was going on, though, or why you were experiencing these events. All you wanted was to get your pearls back and go home--though technically, you already are.

      You wandered aimlessly around the house in a half-hearted attempt to jog your memory, but everything just seemed like a vague blur. You felt that you knew why you were here, but at the same time, you were at a loss.

      Just then, the phone outside the kitchen doorway suddenly began to ring.

      Oh, hell no.

      You tried to walk away and ignore it, but for some reason, you couldn't. Somehow, in spite of your... past experiences with answering a phone, you just couldn't ignore it. Thus, with a sigh of reluctance, you went up to the ringing phone and apprehensively picked it up.

        "...Hello?"

        No answer.

        You sighed in irritation.
        "I swear to God, if it's you two bastards again--"

        "The man upstairs." a mysterious voice interrupted.

        "...What?"

        "The man upstairs." the voice repeated.

        “He has what you're looking for." said another.

        "Come and see." said another.

      With that, you heard the other party hang up. After the signature cue of the disconnect tone, you looked at the device in your hand for a moment before hanging it back up on the hook. What the hell was that all about? Sure, there was nothing that exploded out of the device and tried to chase you this time, but still.

      Just then, you heard a wooden creaking noise in the near distance. Turning around, you saw a new trail of muddy footprints. This time, they seemed to be going up the ascending staircase. You promptly followed the trail up the stairs and into the second floor hallway. There, you kept following the trail. It seemed to lead under the third and last door--the one emitting strange heat and strange mechanical noises.

      When you finally reached it, you tried the knob once again.
      It was unlocked now.

      Slowly, you opened the door. There was another ascending flight of stairs leading up to another white door. The walls inside appeared to be made of pipes, valves, gauges, and other machinery. You felt the orange glow of heat radiating against your frame as you listened to the humming of motors and the pneumatic hissing of steam as it flowed through the works.

      Well, that solves that mystery.

      Taking a deep breath, you carefully began your ascent up the stairs, mindful of touching the walls to avoid any potential burns. Uncertainty grew in your ribcage as you went up each step, having no idea what to expect this time. You've faced two creepy skeletal men in red suits that forced you to do menial tasks, a talking life-sized nutcracker king, a weird spoon-like entity that gave you that egg you have, a hideous skeletal abomination that chased you down a hole-filled corridor, a kimono-wearing spider lady with apparent dementia, a (rather rude) talking flower, a quartet of delinquent human children that were conjoined as punishment for their misdeeds, a powerful sorceress who "abandoned her heart" in grief, what appeared to be the sorceress's undead child guarding the maze you had to go through, a "bedsheet ghost", a bunch of talking snails, and a twisted amalgamation of the spider lady and the sorceress that was blindly looking for "you". Lord only knows what's going to be thrown at you now.

      Finally, you reached the door. As you hesitantly reached for the knob, you took a moment to steel yourself for what you were about to faced with next.

      And then, you opened the door and went through.

      You have entered into what appeared to be the attic--though to be honest, it looked more like a yellow-hued cathedral with a fancy red carpet lining your path. There were massive pillars bordering the left and right sides of the area, with tall mosaic windows in the wallspace between them. The windows were the only thing (aside from the carpet) that weren't exclusively a yellowed hue, but a wider disparity of colors. White light shone through these windows, leaving multicolored refractions on the floor.

      Ten closed caskets laid across the floor on either side of the carpet, in two rows of five. They looked to be made of light grey marble (though it was hard to tell due to the lighting), with a golden, arabesque pattern surrounding an upside-down heart-shaped symbol across their lids, as well as matching golden plaques displaying the persons' names.

      And who do you see standing before you? The strange man.

            "...!" he grunted, his masked gaze fixated on you.

            "Ah... hello?"

            "...!" he grunted, seemingly returning your greeting.

      You spotted something familiar in his hands.

            "Oh, my pearls!"

            The strange man came a bit closer, holding them out to you.
            "...!" he grunted eagerly.

            "You're... giving them to me?"

            "...! ...!" he grunted, nodding.

      You carefully reached out and received the necklace from him, slipping it back around your neck vertebrae--openly displayed over your cowl this time.

      Equipped BLUE PEARLS.

            "Thank you."

            "...!" he grunted.

      Suddenly, a mysterious voice echoed through the area.

                        "(They are magical pearls.)"

      It sounded like the voice of a man, though it seemed like he was speaking in some kind of symbolic gibberish that you somehow understood. You didn't know why, you just... did.

            You looked around in confusion.
            "What was that?"

            "...!" grunted the strange man.

                        "(If you wear them, you'll always be safe from harm.)" said the voice.

            You blinked at him in disbelief.
            "Was that you?"

            "...!" he grunted.

                        "(Just like when you're with your dear old Wingdings.)" said the voice.

            You stood there, staring at his masked face in silence.
            "Who are you...?"

      Though you couldn't see his expression, you could sense him growing disheartened, as if he were expecting you to know.

            "...!" he grunted softly.

                        "(Please...)" the voice beseeched, "(Please, remember.)"

      With that, the strange man disappeared from sight, leaving you standing there alone among the caskets. You looked around the area in quiet bewilderment, before slowly turning to head back out the door. You got your pearls back, so what reason did you have to stay? Well, the answer was simple: the door was locked.

      Should've known, you sighed.

      Having no choice but to go forth, you decided to check out the plaques displayed on the ten caskets, wondering who had "fallen down".

      On the first casket in the left row, the plaque read: "Here lies Cambria".
      It was locked shut.

      On the first casket in the right row, the plaque read: "Here lies Goldy".
      You noticed it was unlocked, and opened it.
      Inside was a slightly dirty goldpiece.

      CHA-CHING! Got 1 G.

      On the second casket in the left row, the plaque read: "Here lies Klaus".
      You noticed it was unlocked, and opened it.
      Inside was a small figurine of a snowman.

      Got SNOWMAN FIGURINE.

      On the second casket in the right row, the plaque read: "Here lies Gigi".
      It was locked shut.

      On the third casket in the left row, the plaque read: "Here lies Sans".
      It was locked shut.

      On the third casket in the right row, the plaque read: "Here lies Papyrus".
      It was locked shut.

      On the fourth casket in the left row, the plaque read: "Here lies Wingdings".
      It was locked shut.

      On the fourth casket in the right row, the plaque read: "Here lies Mother".
      You noticed it was unlocked, and opened it.
      Inside was a small bouquet of red roses, wrapped in pink paper and bound together with a small white ribbon.

      Got BOUQUET.

      On the last casket in the left row, the plaque read: "Here lies G.K.".
      It was locked shut.

      On the last casket in the right row, the plaque read: "Here lies Muttler".
      It was locked shut.

      You then notice an entrance to somewhere north of the area. Above it was a row of three stained glass windows; the one in the middle being significantly larger. The middle window depicted a strange, runic insignia of some sort--one you felt like you've seen before, though you couldn't quite remember where. Mounted up on the wall, at either side of the entrance, was a statue that vaguely resembled an angelic being.

      But as you were about to see where this entrance led, you stopped for a moment. There was something... off about that strange man that you had noticed during your encounter with him a few minutes ago, and it wasn't his concealed visage or his generally mysterious demeanor. Something that no other denizen of this place had--or rather, didn't have.

      It was a shadow.

      He didn't have a shadow.

      The very recollection of this fact hurt to even think about, so you decided to forget about it and go through that entrance already.

    You find yourself in the lobby of some kind of old-timey theater. To the north of the entrance was a large ticket booth, between the left and right entrances to the theater itself. On either side of the lobby was a red velvet staircase, though they both appeared to be inaccessible due to being blocked off by an individual theater line rope.

    Above the ticket booth was a white panel sign; which said, in big black letters:

        NOW SHOWING
        STRAY SKELETON CROSSING

    Standing around the lobby appeared to be most of the beings that you've encountered up to this point. For example, the short being from the basement, who was standing in front of the right staircase; the life-sized nutcracker from the sub-basement "movie room", who stood off to the left side of the ticket booth; the Sphinx, who stood to the side of the left staircase; and the angry caprine boy that guarded hedge maze, who stood in front of the left staircase. However, the difference was that instead of their bright (and primarily red) color palette, they were all greyscale and white-eyed just like your good pal "Picture Kid". And speak of the devil, you happened to find the little monster standing towards the bottom-right corner; next to a large, white, dog-like entity with a gaping black orifice.

    Over to the left, you see a concession stand that sold popcorn--a few different varieties, it seems. Beside the classic golden-buttered flavor, there was also caramel-flavored, chocolate-flavored, and even berry-flavored too!

        Looks good, you thought.

    Operating the stand was a neurotic-looking, feline he-monster with light orange fur; wearing a red and gold theater uniform with a small hat.

        "Popcorn! Get your popcorn here!" he called out, "Popcorn for only 3 goldpieces! That's a steal, man!"

    Realizing you don't have enough money, you politely refuse.

        "I ain't movin' enough corn!" he lamented.

    With seemingly nothing else to do, you decided to see what the waiting patrons were up to. You started with the greyscaled Sphinx, who was busy staring a thousand yards away.

        "Wingdings's children put on the strangest plays..." she said thoughtfully.

    Noticing how solemn she looked, you offered her the bouquet of roses. She looked at the bouquet for a moment, before turning her head away in refusal.

        "I can't stand roses." she said.

    You then went up to talk to the greyscaled caprine boy, who was busy pouting to himself.

        "I'm bored! This play is stupid!" he complained.

    Wondering how to raise his spirits, you rummaged through your inventory and pulled out the snowman figurine. Everyone likes snowmen, don't they? Maybe giving him something to look at will entertain him?

    ...Apparently not, as he only sneered at the offer.

        "What's this?" he asked, "A stupid snowman? You're boring."

        Ugh, rude! you huffed to yourself as you put the snowman away.
        Why doesn't anyone want to accept your generosity?

    You then saw the left entrance to the theater and curiously tried to get a closer look, but was intercepted by one of the two mouse-like monsters standing that stood in front of them, whom you could guess were supposed to be ushers. They both wore little red-and-gold theater uniforms, with little mouse-sized hats, and tiny white gloves over their paws.

        "Oy! I'm the doormouse! 'alf door, 'alf mouse!" the one intercepting you said, "Ain't no bloke gettin' in wifou' a ticket!"
        They looked down at your hands.
        "Wot's that? You ain't got no ticket? Then you ain't gettin' past the doormouse!"

    Stepping away from the entrance, you went back down toward the bottom-right corner, where "Picture Kid" and their weird dog-thing stood. As you passed by this dog-thing, you tried to greet it.

        "Hello there."

        "Grrr..." it grumbled from its orifice.

        I don't think it likes me very much, you thought.

    Backing away from the cranky beast, you talked to "Picture Kid".

        "O-Oh, you're h-here! And y-you got your p-pearls back, too!" they said, "C-Can I take a p-picture?"

        You nodded.

        "Hold... st-still." they said, and held up their camera to press the button.

    The camera flashed, followed by a new polaroid scrolling out of it.

        "Have y-you come to s-see the play, too?" they asked.

        "The play?"

        "Y-yeah." they replied, "Wingdings i-is releasing his newest play t-tonight. It h-hasn't started yet, so th-there might still be time to get a t-ticket."

        "At the window in the ticket booth, right?"

        "Y-Yeah." they replied.

        "Okay."

    With that, you tried going up to the ticket booth to request admission. When you got there, you saw a long-nailed, hand-shaped silhouette with a finger pointing upward sitting behind it.

        "Excuse me, can I get a ticket, please?"

        "I'm sorry, ma'am, tickets are all sold out." the person behind the window replied.

        You sighed in defeat.
        "Okay. Thank you."

        You went back over to "Picture Kid".

        "Wh-What happened?" they asked.

        "They're sold out. I can't get in."

        "O-Oh..." they replied, "Th-That's okay, maybe someone else could tr-trade you theirs."

    You wondered who you could possibly trade with. Definitely not the Sphinx or the caprine boy, since you didn't seem to have anything they want. But who else...?

    Just then, you happened to see the greyscaled nutcracker looking down at the floor as he stood by the booth. Curious, you went up to talk to him.

        “The Sphinx... She is so nice..." he sighed dreamily, "But she looks sad..."

    Feeling bad, you offered him the bouquet of roses--even though the Sphinx probably still wouldn't take them if he gave them to her.

        "Ah, some roses... Will roses make her happy?" ho wondered.
        Reaching out with his stiff arms, he accepted the  bouquet from you.
        "Thank you..." he said, "Here, take this..."
        He reached into his wooden "pocket" and hands you a small, red ticket stub.

    Got TICKET.

     You kind of felt bad knowing that you were technically swindling him out of admission to the theater, though he didn't seem to care. He looked too busy pining for the kimono-wearing sorceress to worry about seeing the play.

     As you passed by the right staircase toward the theater's respective entrance, you heard an excited gasp. Turning toward the source, you saw the greyscaled short being staring at you with eager, glowing white eyes.

        "That... is that a snowman in your inventory?" he asked, "Aw, sweet! Can I have it?"

    Wait, how did he...?
    Ah, nevermind.

    You shrugged and handed over the snowman figurine.

        "Gee, you're the best!" he said, "Somebody ruined my last one..."

    You glanced to the side sheepishly, pretending not to know what he meant.

        "Thanks a million!" he continued, "Here, take this."

    Got TINY KEY.

    Then suddenly, you hear somebody announce over the intercom:

        "The play is about to begin.
        Please make your way to your seats."

    Before you knew it, everyone standing in the lobby (save for "Picture Kid" and their dog-thing) had seemingly vacated into the theater. Figuring it was time you did as well, you went back to the theater's left entrance, where you were intercepted by its respective doormouse again.

        "Oy! I'm the doormouse! 'alf door, 'alf mouse!" they said,  "Ain't no bloke gettin' in wifou' a ticket!"
        They looked down at your hands.
        "Wot's that? You 'ave a ticket?"

        You handed the ticket over to them.

        "Well then, right this way, miss." they said, and stepped aside for you.

    With that, you slowly proceeded into the theater.

Chapter Text

     The theater was quite big, with rows of comfortable-looking, red velvet seats across the aisles around you. A classic performing stage was established on the north side of the area, adorned with fancy red curtains. Nobody appeared to be sitting down, however, even though they have seemingly vacated the lobby. Did they go for a quick bathroom break? Who knows.

    Then suddenly, you saw someone angrily stomping towards you. He looked similar in appearance to the strange man, except his turtleneck was a faded red color instead, and his mask depicting a reddened, angry face.

        “(You!)” he barked, in more symbolic gibberish that you could somehow understand, “(Where the bloody hell have you been?!)”

        “…I’m sorry?”

        “(You actors have some nerve!)” he ranted, “(Don’t you know everyone’s been looking for you?!)”

    Wait… “actors”? You don’t recall being one of the actors. You thought you were just another patron, considering that you had to get a ticket like everyone else.

    You watched in confused silence as the man began to stomp off. After a few moments, he stopped and turned around.

        “(What are you doing just standing there?!)” he snapped, “(You’re on in five minutes!)”

    He came over and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him.

        “(To the stage! Chop-chop!)” he demanded, firmly ushering you forward.

    You glanced back at him as you made your way to your destination. Once there, you stood backstage waiting for the show to begin. There was a small group of other actors nearby, as well as a few stagehands shuffling about as they got everything ready. Due to the shaded darkness from the curtains, you couldn’t see what they all looked like very well, but from what you could see, they all had a strangely similar shape to that weird entity who gave you that egg in the sub-basement “movie room”–except with clothes.

        “Looks like everyone’s here.” said an actor with a masculine voice, who was peeking out from behind the curtain.

        “Ooh! I’m so nervous!” said another, with a feminine voice.

    Sitting on a large crate, twirling your pearls between your begauzed phalanges, you watched everyone else continue to shuffle about in preparation as vagrant thoughts drifted around your cranium. That angry red mask-wearing person (who you assume was the director) came up on the stage, giving you an unsettlingly long look as he passed by.

    But what was more unsettling was what you noticed about him.
    He didn’t have a shadow, just like that strange man.
    Anxiety rose in your ribcage as you recollected the moment.

        Just then, one of the stagehands showed up.
        “Alright folks, show time!”

    With that, the play finally began. There was a drumroll, followed by the curtains opening. Standing on stage was whom you surmised was the narrator. He (assuming that the being was masculine) was wearing a red-and-gold staff uniform with black single-leg pants, topped with a tall black-and-gold hat. A cheerful piano melody soon began to play.

        “This story takes place long ago. Twenty-five years to be exact.” said the narrator, “It is a tale of rue and woe. And this is the first act.”

    He shuffled over to the other side of the stage, and turns in your direction.

        “Pssst! Go onstage!” he whispered at you.

    Taking the initiative, you slowly made your way out on the stage to stand next to him.

        “This is Arial!” said the narrator, “She is seven years old!”

        You watched as he walked offstage, followed by a stagehand ushering in a small bed with pink sheets that looked strangely identical to the one down in the nursery. You then saw one of the other actors come onstage, looking like two of those weird spoon-like entities sitting on top of one another, wearing a red kimono strangely identical to that of the Sphinx (complete with a little headband bearing fake horns of the same likeness).

        “Arial! I am your mother! Time for bed, Arial.” she said, “Arial! Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

        You stared at her in awkward silence.

        “Ahem, Arial!” she repeated as she glanced at the audience, “Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

        You took the initiative this time.
        “Yes, I would like to hear one!”

        “Here! How about… A story about a mother goat and her son?” she asked.

        “Ah… yes!”

        “Okay.”
        She cleared her throat.
        “‘Once upon a time, there was a mother goat and her billy-goat son!’”

This was Mommy’s favorite story.

        ”'But one day!’" she continued, ”'A troop of humans came…’“
        She paused.
        ”'And killed her son!’“

    The audience gasped in shock.

        ”'Mother goat was very sad!’“ she continued,  ”'But also relieved!’“
        She paused one more time.
        "The end!”

    You heard the piano play its outro as the curtains closed before you.

        “We will now break for a short intermission.” the emcee’s voice announced.

    You watched as the stagehands cleared the stage of any props, while "Mother" returned backstage.

        “Great job, keep it up.” she remarked in your direction.

    After the stage was cleared and the audience returned to the lobby, you stood there alone. You looked around the now empty theater, wondering what that play was all about. Why was it so centric around you? Is all this supposed to be familiar to you? And who are these beings, really?

    You eventually decided it was time to leave the theater and join the others in the lobby, wondering what their own thoughts were. Once again, you started with the Sphinx.

        “What a strange play.” she said, “I’m sure they’ve worked very hard on it.”

    Then the caprine boy.

        “I don’t get this play!” he complained.
        Me neither, kid, you thought.

    Then the short being from the basement.

        “That sucked! Wingdings!” he whined.

    After that, you went to check up on the nutcracker.

        “The Sphinx… She’s so nice… But she looks sad…” he rambled, “I wonder if… It’s because she doesn’t like roses…”

        You cringed with regret.
        “Sorry.”

        “Ahh… that’s alright… ” he replied, “It was the effort that counts…”
        He looked up wistfully.
        “Ahh… I sure miss my dad…”

    Suddenly, you noticed what appeared to be a “secret” door going into the ticket booth. You tried to open it, be it looked like it was locked. But then you remembered the key that was given to you by the short being earlier, and tried to see if it worked. It did, in fact, but it broke in the process.

    You went through the door, and found yourself in a strange room. It was much larger than it seemed from the outside. The walls were a dark purplish-blue with a lighter-shaded, arabesque pattern; the flooring made of black-and-white porcelain tile with a fancy geometric pattern. There was also another fancy red carpet leading up to what appeared to be a grandfather clock. On either side of the carpet were a row of three giant carved-ice statues, depicting the likeness of those “snow angels” commonly seen during the Gyftmas season–but made of ice. As you walked down the carpet, you couldn’t help but admire their well-crafted beauty.

    After reaching the grandfather clock, you examined it. It looked like it was made of oak hardwood, with a standard clear finish. However, it was not moving, as it seemed there was a gear missing from it.

        Then suddenly, from your left, the strange man appeared.
        “…!”
                “(This clock does not work anymore.)”
        “…!”
                “(It has been frozen for 15 years.)”
        “…?”
                “(Arial, do you remember yet?)" 
        ”…?“
                ”(…No?)“
        ”…!“
                ”(Here, let’s try again.)“

    Before you knew it, everything faded to white, and you were back inside the "cathedral”. You simply stood there, looking around the area.

        What just happened? you wondered.

    The caskets that you opened were closed again, even though you recalled leaving them ajar after “robbing” them. With suspicion, you approached the casket with the dirty goldpiece and tried to open it. Not only did it open like before, but there was another goldpiece inside as well.

    You picked up the goldpiece, examining it. It looked just like the one from before.

    You looked in your inventory. The goldpiece you found last time was still there.

    Wait. Is this supposed to be some kind of time loop, but also isn’t? Did you miss something last time? What were you supposed to do now? What the hell is even going on here?

    With suspicion, you took the goldpiece from the casket. You checked the caskets with the snowman figurine and bouquet of roses, who were also there again, and took them as well. After that, you went back into the theater lobby, wondering if the patrons were affected by this “loop” as well–starting with the Sphinx once again.

        “Wingdings’s children put on the strangest plays…” she said thoughtfully, just like before.

        Huh. Does she even remember what happened before? What if you did something different this time? Guess there’s only one way to find out–you decide not to give her the roses.

        “The children…” she trailed, “They’re quite cute, aren’t they?”

    Huh. It appears your theory is somewhat correct. So maybe if you continue doing things different, you might get somewhere? Maybe through this, you’ll get to the bottom of the mystery? It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try–and maybe that’s what you’re supposed to do.

    So you went and traded your rose bouquet for the nutcracker’s ticket. Just after doing so, you went straight to the doormouse and exchanged it for admission into the theater. You were intercepted again by that angry director who ordered you to get to the stage with the other actors (though you really wished he would just chill out).

    Then, once again, the play began with a drumroll, the opening of the curtains, and a happy little piano tune as the narrator began to speak.

        “This story takes place long ago. Twenty-five years to be exact.” he said, “It is a tale of rue and woe. And this is the first act.”

    He shuffled over to the other side of the stage, and turns in your direction.

        “Pssst! Go onstage!” he whispered at you.

    You made your way out on the stage with him.

        “This is Arial!” he said, “She is seven years old!”

    You watched as he went offstage, followed by a stagehand bringing in that small bed prop. Soon after, you saw “Mother” come on stage.

        “Arial! I am your mother! Time for bed, Arial.” she said, “Arial! Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

        You didn’t answer.

        “Ahem, Arial!” she repeated, “Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

        You took the initiative.
        “Yes, I would like to hear one!”

        “Here! How about… A story about a mother goat and her son?” she asked.

        This time, though, you replied:
        “No thank you!”

        “Mother” gave an awkward look in your direction.
        “…No?”
        There was silence for a moment.
        “…Arial! Would you like some tea? Mother will… Put on the kettle!”

Doctor Alphys said Mommy was sick.

I thought it was because of the twins inside her…

        “…No?” she asked, “Of course! You must be tired!”
        There was a pause.
        “Arial! Time for bed, Arial!” she said, “Arial! Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

    You stared at “Mother” in awkward silence for a moment, before hearing the piano play its outro and watching the curtains close again.

        “We will now break for a short intermission.” the emcee announced.

    The theater cleared again as everyone returned to the lobby. As you stood alone on the stage, you wondered if you had made any more progress in this “story”. There seemed to have been some subtle changes, but was it enough?

    …Guess you’ll find out in the ticket booth.

    After returning to the lobby, you suddenly remembered that you forgot to trade your snowman figurine for the short being’s key. Thus, you hurried over to do so before you forgot.

        “I can’t go into the ticket booth anymore.” the short being lamented afterward, “Wingdings won’t let anyone in…”
        He paused.
        “Ever since she ran away.”

    Feeling slight discomfort from those words, you continued your advance toward your destination, when you caught a glance at the popcorn vendor as he continued his struggle to sell his stock.

        “Popcorn! Get your popcorn here!” he called out, “Popcorn for only 3 goldpieces!”

    He notices your approaching proximity to his stand, and immediately perked up.

        “Heeeeey there! Howzabout a fresh bag of popcorn?” he offered, “Only 3 goldpieces! It’s quite a steal!”

    Once again, you politely refuse. His hopeful face fell.

        “I ain’t movin’ enough corn!” he lamented, “I haven’t seen my brother in years, man! The Toymaker’s not giving him up cheap!”

        “The… Toymaker? Who’s that?”

        “Oh honey, darlin’, sweet-sugar-plum.” he replied through his teeth, “The Toymaker is a guy who makes toys, of course!”
        His eye twitched.
        “Ha ha ha… yeah, making toys.”

        “What did he do to your brother?”

        The vendor’s breathing quickened as he became more agitated.
        “Ha, I don’t even know, man! It’s been so long that I can’t even remember what my brother even looks like anymore!”
        He then proceeded to slump cheek-down on the counter, sighing.
        “Let me give you one word of advice, toots: if you have anything you cherish in life? Steer clear from that blue-masked creep.”

    With that, you awkwardly stepped away from the popcorn stand and went back to your initial destination. Using the key to unlock the door, you went inside (albeit at the cost of the key breaking again). After walking down the carpet, you tried checking the grandfather clock again, but it still wasn’t moving.

        The strange man appeared again.
        “…?”
                “(Arial, do you remember yet?)" 
        ”…?“
                ”(…No?)“
        ”…!“
                ”(Here, let’s try again.)“

    Before you knew it, everything faded to white once more, and you were back inside the "cathedral”.

Chapter Text

     You looked at the floor beneath your feet, then around the rest of the area. Wasn’t this the exact same spot as before, when the “loop” first reset? The repetition just felt so unnatural. It was clear that someone was pulling the strings here, and you had the sneaking suspicion that strange man had something to do with it.

    Reluctantly continuing this weird time-loop game, you went over to the casket that had those single goldpieces, you opened it to find yet another one. After taking it, you went over to collect the bouquet of roses as well. Then after that, you returned to the theater lobby.

    After exchanging the bouquet for the nutcracker’s ticket, you gave the ticket to the doormouse and headed inside the theater. Like clockwork, the ill-tempered director marched up to you and demanded your presence on stage.

    Then, once more, the play began. First the drumroll, then the curtains, then the piano.

        “This story takes place long ago. Twenty-five years to be exact.“ said the narrator, "It is a tale of rue and woe. And this is the first act.”

    He shuffled over to the other side of the stage, and turns in your direction.

        “Pssst! Go onstage!” he whispered at you.

    You made your way out on the stage with him.

        “This is Arial!” he said, “She is seven years old!”

    You watched as he went offstage, followed by a stagehand bringing in that small bed prop. Soon after, you saw “Mother” come on stage.

        “Arial! I am your mother! Time for bed, Arial.” she said, “Arial! Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

        You didn’t answer.

        “Ahem, Arial!” she repeated, “Would you like to hear a bedtime story?”

        This time, though, you outright replied:
        “No thank you!”

        “…Okay!” said “Mother”.

        Suddenly, you heard another voice.
        “Hello, Mother! Hello, Arial!”

    You saw another pair of those weird spoon-like entities sitting on top of one another, wearing attire similar to that of the strange man shuffle onstage, miming the act of holding something flat in his hands.

        “It is I, Wingdings!” he declared.

        “Hello, Wingdings!” greeted “Mother”.

He always wanted me to call him Wingdings.

    You watched as “Wingdings” shuffled up to you.

        “Arial! I have brought you a present!” he said, “Would you like to see it?”

        You took the initiative.
        “Um… yes!”

        “Here… a blue pearl necklace!” he said.

    He mimed the act of removing the lid off a box, then the act of taking something out of the “box” and “draping” it around your neck vertebrae. One of his spoon-like hands lightly grasped your actual pearls for a moment, before letting go.

        “If you wear it…” he said, “You’ll always be safe… from harm!”

Just like when you’re with your dear old Wingdings.

    You heard the piano play its outro and watched the curtains close again.

        “We will now break for a short intermission.” the emcee announced.

    After the stage was cleared, you watched as “Mother”, now with "Wingdings", returned backstage.

        “That is a pretty sweet necklace.” you heard “Wingdings” remark to her.

        “I know, right?” she eagerly replied, “I’m jealous!”

    Shortly after you were left alone, you suddenly notice the light filtering over an entry in the back, to what you’d assume to be the dressing room. Since you were one of the “actors”, you naturally assumed that you were allowed inside.

        So you did.

    Through the open doorway, you were led down a descending staircase to another brown door with a wooden, gold-painted, star-shaped sign nailed to it. Going in, you did indeed find yourself in some kind of dressing room. The arabesquely-patterned walls bore a purplish hue, with a similarly-hued hardwood floor to match. There were actors idly standing around, some you recognize and some you didn’t, as well as a few staff members shuffling about.

    A few feet south of the staircase, you saw the narrator hanging around. Directly next to the staircase, you saw “Mother” standing in front of a coathanger. To the right of the coathanger, there was a large, gold-trimmed vanity mirror (for vain people, of course). Sitting in front of the mirror, on top of a fancy red rug, was an actor dressed like your “young doppelgänger”. To the right of the mirror, there was another large nightstand that looked similar to the one down in the master bedroom. Nearby, you saw a stagehand frantically shuffling about. Then in the middle of the room, you saw “Wingdings” standing near a large, round coffee table with a few cushions around it. Sitting on some of the cushions were two more stagehands who didn’t seem to be doing anything in particular.

    Stepping down from the staircase, you began your exploration. You went up to speak with the narrator, looking like he knew a terrible secret.

        “The Toymaker doesn’t talk anymore.” he said to you, “Ever since his favorite toy left.”
        He slowly leaned forward, making you tense with discomfort.
        “Be careful…” he muttered, “Or else he might turn you into a toy.”

    Trying to ignore that uneasy feeling you got from the narrator’s warning, you went up to the two stagehands sitting at the coffee table.

        “Big sister!” the one on the left cried.

        “…Hi.” the one on the right muttered.

    You went up to the little actress who was busy primping herself in the mirror, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and adjusting her sunhat. Hearing your presence, she stood up and turned around.

        “Tell me I’m pretty!” she said.

        “Ah…” you trailed, “…Yes, you look great!

        "I know! I don’t need you to tell me that.” she replied, “I really want some popcorn, but I can’t get any  until the play is over. I wish I could have some now, though.”
        She clasped her spoon-like hands pleadingly.
        “Can you buy me some popcorn? …Please?”

        “We’ll see.”

        “Okay!” she said.

    After that, she went right back to primping herself in the mirror.
    You wandered over to “Wingdings”.

        “All this rehearsing has made me real hungry!” he said, “Do you have anything I could snack on?”

        Geez, everyone is hungry tonight, aren’t they? you thought.

    Shifting through your inventory, you pulled out the egg you received earlier and offered it to him. But he shook his head in refusal.

        “No, thanks.” he said, “I only eat sweets.”

    Letting out a disgruntled sigh, you put the egg away and wandered back the other way up to “Mother”.

        “Have you seen our brother?” she asked, “We sent him to collect eggs, but he never came back… That was a long time ago.”
        Then you saw her head perk up.
        “What’s that? You have an egg? You wouldn’t mind if we took it, would you?”

        You shook your skull, offering the item to her.

        “I knew he wouldn’t fail us!” she cried with joy.

    You handed over the egg, which she put away by sliding it under one of her sleeves.

        “We’re going to bake a pie!” she said, “You can come by later if you want some.”

    Then you went up to speak to that frantic-looking stagehand, wondering what he was so upset about.

        “Oh no, I lost it!” he cried, “Wingdings is going to be mad! Ohh…”

        “What did you lose?”

        “The script!” he replied, “I lost the script! We can’t finish the play without it!”

        “I see. Well, I’ll be sure to be on the lookout for it.”

        “Oh, thank you, thank you!” he breathed.

    Just then, as you continued exploring around the room, you found another brown door near the bottom-right corner. Nailed to it was a colorful, fancy-looking sign that said “TOYMAKER’S SHOP”, but underneath was a more crude-looking sign that said “KEEP OUT” in big red letters.

    Your mind began to reel with ravenous curiosity, but also suppressing apprehension. Should you go in? Would it get you in trouble? Would you be endangering yourself if you did?

    After a few moments, your curiosity won the battle and you decided to go in–though your apprehension still lingered enough that you didn’t barge in with careless abandon. Discreetly opening the door, you saw another descending staircase. Then, gathering your composure, you began walking down the steps, quietly closing the door behind you.

    Upon reaching the bottom, you were finally there. The colorful, childlike lair of this so-called Toymaker. The walls and flooring made this place look to be a rough replica of the sub-basement “movie room” (albeit a bit smaller). In the middle of the floor was another fancy-looking rug–with someone sitting on it, his back turned to you. It almost looked like the strange man, but you couldn’t really tell from this angle.

        "(Ee-eee-ee-eee-eee-eee!)" you heard him utter, in even more symbolic gibberish you could somehow understand.

    Clenching your teeth, your tried to quietly sneak around him as you began to explore the room. In the center of the north wall hung a large cuckoo clock, surrounded by wooden shelves on either side that displayed a variety of old-fashioned toys. Underneath the clock was some more wooden letter blocks, arranged in two separate rows. Like the ones in the nursery, these blocks seemed to spell something out as well.

    The left row seemed to spell: “C-O-M-E”.
    The right row seemed to spell: “B-A-C-K”.

    For some reason, the words unnerved you.

    To the left of the blocks, something odd caught your attention–it looked like a wind-up toy cat with lime-green fur, wearing attire that strangely resembled that of the popcorn vendor. It  was sitting on the floor, cowering.

        Why does it look so frightened? you wondered.

    To the east wall, you saw what looked like a worktable with a stool. There were several tools laying on the table, most of them covered by wood chips and shavings. Toward the bottom-right corner, you watched a wind-up toy soldier marching back and forth along the wall. And then across from the toy soldier, in the bottom-left corner, you saw an immaculately-crafted dollhouse of a rather familiar location on display.

        Where have I seen this before? you wondered.

    Peering behind your back, you had a clearer angle to see what the being who sat on the floor looked like. He did indeed have the semblance of the strange man–except his turtleneck was a light blue color, and his mask depicting a blue, saddened face.

    Wait. A blue mask…?

    Is that… the Toymaker?!

    You let out a soft gasp before stealthily juking back to the staircase. Peering from the safety of the entryway, you saw the being stop his ceaseless uttering for a moment to look around the room, as if he heard something. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you.

     But you noticed something about him.
     He didn’t have a shadow, either.

    Feeling that unease slowly turning into lowkey dread, you then suddenly remembered that you have 3 goldpieces now. You had enough money to buy a bag of popcorn for the little actress in the dressing room. With one last glance at this shadow-less Toymaker fellow, you made your way back into the lobby and up to the popcorn stand again.

        “Popcorn! Get your popcorn here! Popcorn for only 3 goldpieces! That’s a steal, man!” the vendor called out as he usually did.

        “I would like some, please.”

        The vendor’s eyes lit up.
        “Of course you’d like some! What flavor?”

        “Golden-buttered.”

        “Alrighty, that’ll be 3G.” he said.

    After paying, you watched as he grabbed an empty popcorn bag, shovels in some popcorn of your chosen flavor until it was full and handed it to you.

    Got POPCORN.

        “He says he’ll bring my brother back for 1,000,000 G!” the vendor claimed, “I’ve still got a long way to go!”

    By “he”, you assumed he was referring to the Toymaker.

        As you began to leave, you suddenly heard the vendor cry out victoriously.
        “Woo-hoo! I’m rich! I’m coming for you, brother!”

    He suddenly noticed the awkward look you were giving him.

        “Oh, ha ha…” he shrank with embarrassment, “Sorry ‘bout that. Enjoy your popcorn. Ha…”

    Hoping you still had a bit of time left, you went back into the theater and down into the dressing room to the little actress, who was still busy primping herself in the vanity mirror. Appearing to smell the popcorn, she turned around and gasped.

        “Popcorn! Is that really for me?” she asked.

        “Mhm.”
        You handed the bag to her.

        “Yay, popcorn!”
        She eagerly accepted the snack and began “munching” on it.
        “Oh, um, take this as thanks.”
        She pulls out a plain wooden block and gives it to you.

    Got WOOD BLOCK.

    Then suddenly, you heard the emcee over the intercom.

        “Act II is about to begin.
        Please make your way to your seats.”

    Before you knew it, the dressing room  was empty. You figured you should leave, too. As you went up the stairs, you saw the stage manager stomping down the stairs to drag you back to the stage. Now that you’ve reached “Act II” of the show, you wondered what would happen now.

        “…So when they bring the door in, you go up to it and pretend you’re eavesdropping, okay?” the narrator whispered.

        “Okay.”

    You heard the drumroll as the play began again. You were already standing onstage with the narrator, watching as the curtains opened, and listening as the piano began to play.

        “This is Arial!” said the narrator, “Arial! Are you excited about having little brothers?”

        You didn’t answer.

        “Ahem, Arial!” the narrator repeated with a glance in your direction, “Are you excited about having little brothers?”

        You took the initiative this time.
        “Ah… yes?”

        “Of course you are! It is only natural! Please go and… tell everyone!” said the narrator.

    You watched as he shuffled offstage. Then you turned around and saw "Mother" and “Wingdings” come onstage, followed by some stagehands bringing in new props–a door and two beds resembling the ones down in the master bedroom. The door was placed a few feet in front of you, while the beds were placed by “Wingdings” and “Mother”, respectively.

        Once the stagehands shuffled offstage, you took a deep breath.
        “Don’t get stage fright… don’t get stage fright…”

    You approached the door, as directed, and pretended to eavesdrop on a conversation your “parents” were having.

        “The twins are getting older…” you heard “Wingdings” say, “It might be difficult! To stay!”

Everything will be better when we move.

        “Mother! The capital is wonderful! It’s always summer there!” you heard “Wingdings” suggest.

Say goodbye to the seasons.

        “Wingdings! What about the house?” you heard “Mother” ask.

        “The house?” you heard “Wingdings” reply, “This house is just… a memory!”

        “Wingdings! I don’t want to leave!” you heard “Mother” plead.

I like the seasons.

I don’t want to leave them behind.

        “But Mother! The twins need more room to grow!” you heard “Wingdings” insist.

Why are you so selfish.

Why are you always so selfish.

What does family mean to you?

    Then, you suddenly heard a wooden creaking sound.

        “Wingdings! Was that… the door?” you heard “Mother” say.

        “Arial! Where is Arial?” you heard “Wingdings” say.

    Then you saw the narrator come back onstage.

        “All of this fighting! Between Mommy and 'Dings! Makes Arial very sad! And so! Arial decides… To run away!”

    Then you watched as the curtains closed.

        “What happens now?” the narrator’s voice muttered.

        “I don’t know! We lost the rest of the script!” muttered the voice of that frantic-looking stagehand you met down in the dressing room.

    The curtains open briefly, showing the narrator standing there. You were already standing backstage, watching the spectacle of sheepishness.

        “Um… the end!” said the narrator.

    The curtains closed again, seemingly for real. The piano didn’t even bother to play its outro this time, it just… stopped. After the theater was emptied once more, you decided to head back down into the dressing room. Sitting on the coffee table, there was a lone slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie sitting on a plate, still radiating with warmth. You went up to the table and took it.

    Got PIE.

    You went back up and exited the theater. To your surprise, the lobby was empty as well, save for the doormice, “Picture Kid”, and their dog-thing.

        Where did everyone go? you wondered.

    You gave a passing glance to the nearby doormouse, who gave you a nod of farewell.

        “ 'Ave a lovely evenin’, miss.” they said.

        “Ah… you, too.”

    Not knowing what else to do, you return to the ticket booth, surprised to find that the door was already unlocked and slightly ajar (just when you thought you forgot to make a trade for the key again). But just as you were about to enter the booth, your gaze happened to shift over to the the blocked staircase nearby. As you stared at it, you began to feel a growing sense of curiosity about what was up there. Why was it blocked off? What kind of terrible secret were they trying to hide? It was really becoming a bad habit of yours to stuck your nasal bone where it didn’t belong, so you might as well get this over with–that is, if you don’t get caught.

    Going over to stand at the bottom step of the staircase, you observed the blockading rope, wondering how you were going to get by it. You tried to move the object aside, but it appeared to be bolted to the floor. It appeared to be too tricky to step over (though that was kind of the point), and you were unsure if you could fit under it, either. As a skeleton, you barely had enough body mass to cause much trouble fitting through things, but still.

    As you thought and thought, you suddenly realized something.

    It was an open staircase.

    You facepalmed. Wow, you’re an idiot.

    Going over to the side of the staircase, you looked around the lobby for any possible witnesses. The doormice seemed to have gone into the theater to check something, while “Picture Kid” looked like they were idly sitting on the floor against their dog-thing, who appeared to be taking a nap. Seeing your friend and their beastly companion like this was somewhat cute, but you had stairs to “trespass”.

    You took a deep breath, before carefully climbing up on the nearest step you could access. With a small grunt, you lifted yourself up and stealthily absconded up the staircase, out of sight.

    As you continued your ascent, you found the stairway growing darker as you moved further away from the light of the lobby. There didn’t seem to be any sign of a light switch (not like you’d want to call attention to yourself anyway), thus you had to rely on the touch of your gauze-entwined phalanges as they traced the inner wall to your left.

    The trek wasn’t very long, however, as you appeared to have reached the top soon after.

    You looked around, trying to make out your surroundings. From the little that you could see, you appeared to be in some kind of rectangular space. The air had a light musty smell, just like a normal attic.

    But you knew this sure as hell wasn’t one.

    Tucked away in the shadowy corners of the room, you could just barely make out the silhouettes of boxes filled with stuff, as well large objects covered with sheets. The faint sound of wind blew eerily through the rafters, sending a light chill through the air. You cringed a little as the floorboards creaked under the weight of your steps, silently praying that nobody down below heard them–although it looked like no one had been up here in ages.

    Carefully making your way across the darkened room, you looked around. What were you looking for? You didn’t know. There were a lot of things up here, and they seemed to take up much of the floorspace. You narrowly avoid tripping over the ones in your path, grimacing every time. How big and how long was this place, anyway? Surely it couldn’t be any longer than the entry to the opposite staircase… right?

    Then, you foot finally hit an overfilled box covered in a sheet, nearly causing you to stumble. With an irritated sigh, you regained you footing before shooting a glare at the… huh?

    You suddenly spot a glint of something metallic that piqued your interest buried inside the box, sticking out from under the sheet. Curious, you bent down to jostle it out. It was a small, slim, metallic object with little ridges at the upper end. Observing the item as it glinted from the cracks of light from below, your jaw suddenly dropped in realization.

    Got LOCKPICK.

    Oh hot damn, why couldn’t you find any of these earlier?! They would've gotten you out of this hellhole a lot sooner!

    A grin of mischievous glee appeared on your viscerocranium, but it soon faded. Maybe… you should just hang on to this thing, at least for now. Can’t have anyone getting suspicious.

    Sneaking the lockpick into your inventory, you made your way back down the staircase you came from. Once you got close to reaching the lobby, you peeked out from the shadows. Looks like the doormice were still gone, and the “dynamic duo” over in the corner still seemed to be resting. You took the opportunity to sneak toward the bottom steps, hop down to the ground once you were close enough, and hurried over to the ticket booth.

    After walking down the carpet, more trepidly this time, you tried checking the grandfather clock again, but it still wasn’t moving. You subtly tensed when the strange man appeared again, hoping that he wasn’t holding any suspicion of your whereabouts.

        He stared at you in silence for a moment.
        “…?”
                “(Arial, do you remember yet?)”
        “…?”
                “(…No?)”
        “…!”
                “(Here, let’s try again.)”

    Before you knew it, everything faded to white once more, and you were back inside the “cathedral”.

Chapter Text

     The moment you stood within the familiar yellow-hued walls, you immediately reached to check your inventory. The lockpick was still there. You sighed with relief. Guess you got away with it after all. But how did you? How did the strange man not notice, when he seemed to be aware of everything that happened up here? Did you somehow traverse past the "loop", beyond his reach? Did he even know what was up there? Your cranium reeled with such questions so much, it began to hurt just thinking about it. But the real question was: how were you going to use it without anyone knowing? You sure as hell weren't going back to that spooky upper attic, that's for certain.

    Leaving the subject on the backburner for the time being, you went to claim the bouquet of roses from the casket marked "Mother", as per usual. Without wasting any time, you went into the lobby and exchanged the bouquet for the nutcracker's ticket, which you issued to one of the doormice to grant you admission. Once you were in the theater, you sighed as you saw the director marching up to you.

        Before he could speak a word, you cut in.
        "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

    You walked straight past him to the stage--on your own accord. In the corner of your eyesocket, you could've sworn you saw him watching you with stunned silence. It almost gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing you shot him down before he had a chance to fire. He may have had no time for this bullshit, but now it was your turn.

    The play began once again. Drumroll. Curtains. Piano.

        "This story takes place long ago. Twenty-five years to be exact." said the narrator, "It is a tale of rue and woe. And this is the first act."

    He shuffled over to the other side of the stage, and turns in your direction.

        "Pssst! Go onstage!" he whispered at you.

    You made your way out on the stage with him.

        "This is Arial!" he said, "She is seven years old!"

    You watched as he went offstage, followed by a stagehand bringing in that small bed prop. Soon after, you saw "Mother" come on stage.

        "Arial! I am your mother! Time for bed, Arial." she said, "Arial! Would you like to hear a bedtime story?"

        You didn't answer.

        "Ahem, Arial!" she repeated, "Would you like to hear a bedtime story?"

        You repeated the cycle.
        "No thank you!"

        "...Okay!" said "Mother".

        Suddenly, you heard another voice.
        "Hello, Mother! Hello, Arial!"

    "Wingdings" had arrived onstage once again.

        "It is I, Wingdings!" he declared.

        "Hello, Wingdings!" said "Mother".

    You watched as "Wingdings" shuffled up to you.

        "Arial! I have brought you a present!" he said, "Would you like to see it?"

        This time, you replied:
        "No thank you!"

    "Wingdings" simply stood there in silence for a moment, before dropping his mime-act and shuffling over to stand next to "Mother".

        "Mother! Let us prepare Arial's room! For the twins!" he said,  "Sans and Papyrus!"

        "Wingdings!" said "Mother", "Surely you must mean... Gigi and Cambria!"

        "Sans and Papyrus!" said "Wingdings", "They are coming soon!"

        "Yes!" said "Mother", "However... When Gigi and Cambria arrive... There may not be room for Arial!"

        "Right you are!" said "Wingdings".

    You heard the piano play its outro and watched the curtains close again.

        "We will now break for a short intermission." the emcee announced.

    During the intermission, you went down to the dressing room. The actors and staff were all there, just like last time. You spotted "Wingdings", and remembered that you got a slice of pie you found on the coffee table before the "loop" reset. Maybe he'd like it? Only one way to find out.

    You went up and talked to him.

        "All this rehearsing has made me real hungry!" he said, "Do you have anything I could snack on?"

        "Well... I do have this slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie."
        You pulled the item out of your inventory and held it out to him.

        "Pie! My favorite!" he cried with delighted surprise.
        He happily accepted your offering, taking the little fork that was sticking in the slice, and used the cutlery to take "bites" out of it.
        "Take this little guy. I found him flying around."

    Your gaze widened in surprise as you saw him beckon forth a familiar face. A little yellow bird, similar to the dead one you found in the sub-basement laboratory, whom you brought back to life only to have it shot to death by that short being. The bird landed on "Wingdings" 's spoon-like hand, before being offered to you.

        You stared at the little one as you welcomed it into your own hands.
        "Little Birdie...?"

        The bird tweeted happily as it flittered its wings.

    Got BIRD.

        "Thanks again for the pie!" said "Wingdings", before shuffling away to enjoy his new treat.

    You stared at the bird as it happily nestled into your gauze-covered palms, wondering if it really was the same bird. Though it seemingly responded to your little "nickname" for it, you saw no signs of blood, injury, or scarring. Maybe someone got another sample of that blue potion and used that to bring it back? Who knows. But ultimately you didn't think it really mattered, you were just glad to have a little feathered buddy again--because you sure could use some guidance right now.

    Shifting the bird over to one hand, the other pulled the wood block out of your inventory.

        "What should I do with this? Do I need to give it to someone?"

    The bird chirped while flittering its wings, seemingly in affirmation.

        "Who should I bring it to?"

    The bird turned and jumped down, hopping over to the door that led to the Toymaker's shop. It turned back to you and chirped.

        You cringed with unease.
        "Ah... are you sure, little one...?"

    The bird chirped as it hopped in place, flittering its wings once more.

        You sighed. "Alright, if you say so."

    After the bird came back to you, to perch on your shoulder this time, you opened the door and returned to the belly of the beast.

  You cautiously peered out from the entryway of the Toymaker's shop. The being was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees, just as you left him.

    "(Ee-eee-ee-eee-eee-eee!)" he uttered.

  You carefully approached him from behind. Then, with only a moment's hesitation, you reached out and tapped his shoulder.

    "Ah... excuse me."

    The Toymaker turned his head.
    "(Eeeee?)"

  Now that you had his attention, you steeled yourself once again as you reached into your inventory to pull out the wood block, offering it to him.

    "Can you... do something with this...?"

  The Toymaker stared at the wood block for a moment, before his demeanor lightened up.

    "(Eeee-eee-eee!)" he cried, "(Eee-eeeeee-eeee!)"

    He took the wood block and went over to his workbench. You and your avian companion watched from afar as he used his tools to chisel and carve the wood block into shape. Once that was done, he painted color and a clear coat of finish on it, drying it off before adding other embellishments. It was kind of amazing how fast he worked. Even the bird looked impressed. Maybe he was just eager to have something to do? Who knows.

    After the Toymaker finished, he returned to you and bestowed his new creation. It was shiny red toy soldier.

    "(Eee-eeee-eee-ee-eeee!)" he said.

    You slowly reached out to accept it, marveling at its craftsmanship.

    Got TOY SOLDIER.

        "Ah, thank you."

        "(Eee-eeee-ee-eeeee!)" he replied.

    But just as you and the bird were about to leave with his gift, you felt the Toymaker take hold of your arm. It wasn't in a harsh, "oh-no-you-don't" manner, like he was going to kidnap you and turn you into a doll or whatever and add you to his supposed "collection". It was more of a gentle, "hey-wait-a-sec" manner, like he just noticed something was up. You turned back to face him, wondering what he wanted. The bird chirped inquisitively, appearing to share the same sentiment.

    The Toymaker silently gazed at you, loosening his grip on your arm a little, then letting go completely. After a few moments, his hand slowly reached up toward your "bad" eyesocket--the one hidden behind its wrappings; the flicker of life in your other, "good" eyesocket darting to follow his motion.

    As his hand came in close proximity to the area, you preemptively flinched away from his touch. He stopped, tilting his head in confusion. His hand slowly approached the area again, barely grazing the fibrous surface of the wrappings. You flinched harder.

        "Nngh--!"

    Your own hand stopped his from coming any closer and gently pushed it away.

        "I'm fine, sir. Don't worry about it."

    You felt him, as well as the bird, look at you as if you were an addict that just dismissed partaking in an intervention. It was becoming clear that the Toymaker had noticed the implications of these wrappings, and those implications concerned him for whatever reason. He didn't seem bothered by the wrappings of the same material around your arms and hands, even though he undoubtly saw them when you accepted the toy soldier he made, so why your eyesocket? Did he somehow guess the difference between a superficial covering and an actual medically influenced covering? Did he think you were some kind of "broken toy" that must be fixed? Why did this concern him so much?

    Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the emcee announcing over the intercom.

        "Act II is about to begin.
        Please make your way to your seats."

    You turned to see that the Toymaker was gone now, leaving you and the bird alone with his disparity of other toys. The two of you looked down at the toy soldier that was still in your hands, then at one another. But just as you put the toy solider away in your inventory and began to head for the stairs, you noticed a glint of something shiny behind you, and saw it was coming from that dollhouse that was on display. Curious, you went up to gently unlatch it open to peek inside.

    There, sitting among the interior of even more uncanny familiarity, was a golden key with an arabesque, spade-shaped bow.

    Got SPADES KEY.

    Ah! Three out of four now! Now you had to keep an extra close eye out for the final one.

    Discreetly closing the dollhouse back up and returning to the staircase, the flicker of life in your "good" eyesocket rolled as you watched the director marching down the steps. But once he finally reached you, he simply stood there. No ranting, no chastising, nada. You gave him a confused look, wondering about this sudden change in attitude.

        After a few moments, he let out a frustrated sigh.
        "(Just get onstage.)"

    With that, he went back up the stairs. You promptly followed him, completely bewildered.

    The play began again. You were standing onstage with the narrator, just like before--except this time you had a little feathered friend on your shoulder.

        "This is Arial!" said the narrator, "Arial! Are you excited about having little brothers?"

    You didn't answer.

        "Ahem, Arial!" the narrator repeated with a glance in your direction, "Are you excited about having little brothers?"

        This time, you answered:
        "Ah... no."

        "Of course you aren't! It is only natural! Please go and... tell everyone!" said the narrator.

        You watched as he shuffled offstage. Then you turned around and saw "Mother" and "Wingdings" come onstage, followed by some stagehands assembling their "room" again. After that, you promptly approached the door, pretending to eavesdrop.

        "With the twins here... Mother has more company... when Wingdings is not home!" you heard "Mother" say.

        "But Wingdings is home! Right now!" you heard "Wingdings" retort.

        "Mother gets very lonely." you heard "Mother" lament.

All day, we wait all day...

For 'Dings to come home.

        "But Mother has... her garden!" you heard "Mother" say.

I feel like there are slugs in my skull.

        "That's right! Mother has her garden!" you heard "Wingdings" agree.

    You heard that wooden creaking sound again.

        "Wingdings! Was that... the door?" you heard "Mother" say.

        "Arial! Where is Arial?" you heard "Wingdings" say.

        Then you saw the narrator come back onstage.
        "All of this fighting! Between Mommy and 'Dings! Makes Arial very sad! And so! Arial decides... To run away!"

    Then you watched as the curtains closed.

        "What happens now?" the narrator's voice muttered.

        "I don't know! We lost the rest of the script!" muttered the voice of that frantic-looking stagehand from the dressing room.

        The curtains open briefly, showing the narrator standing there.
        "Um... the end!"

    With that, the curtains closed, and the show ended. After the theater was emptied, you let out an exasperated sigh. It was over. You played you part, you exhausted the dialogue options, but in the end, you barely got anywhere.

    You went and sat over the edge of the stage, slumping a little. What do you do now? Is this "loop" going to keep going forever? You got your pearls back, so why are you still forced to be here? Why can't you just go home already and hit the sack? You were absolutely exhausted from this and you just can't take it anymore.

    ...The lockpick!

    With a vigilant glance around the area, you secretively pulled the item out of your inventory, watching it glint under the light. Would now be a good time to use it? You still had one last golden key to find, so it would have to be downstairs anyway, right? Even though you felt a mildly worried look from the bird, you resolved that now was your best chance to get out of here--you just had to be quick and smart about it.

    Hiding the lockpick in your fist, you returned to the lobby. With a bid of farewell to and from the doormouse, you made your way out into the "cathedral". You didn't feel the need to be secretive this time, since this area was open to access. So long as nobody saw you out there with the lockpick, your mission will be easily accomplished.

    You strolled back out into the mosaic-tinged light that beamed through the windows, with a somewhat shifty gaze. Thankfully, the area was empty as it always was. No one but you, the bird, and marble caskets. But as you made your way closer to the door, the bird seemingly caught on to your intent and flew up in the air, chirping urgently while tugging at your sleeve with its feet, causing you to stop walking.

        You swiftly pressed a phalange against your teeth.
        "Shhh!"

    The bird somewhat obeyed, but its grip on your sleeve remained. The grip finally released as you reached up and gently guided the little one back to your shoulder.

        "We're just going downstairs for a few minutes, then we'll come right back up, okay? No one will notice we were gone."

    The bird looked at you for a moment, before letting out a tiny, whistling sigh of resignation. Once you finally reached the door, you discreetly took out the lockpick. With a quick scan around the area, you carefully stuck the tool inside the keyhole and began to fiddle with the inner mechanism. Since lockpicks were known to be fragile, your accuracy had to be as precise as possible--one wrong move, and you'll lose your chance. And on top of that stress, there was the unease of knowing you were probably doing something you shouldn't, adding to the difficulty of keeping your mind clear and your hand steady. But you were determined--determined to achieve freedom, even if it was for just a little while. It was time for this bird to fly. She will be held prisoner no more.

    Fiddle, fiddle...
    Fiddle, fiddle...
    Fiddle... fiddle...
    ...Click!

    You did it! The lockpick did break, as expected, but you did it.

    You slowly opened the door, and saw the familiar sight of heat and machinery. With one last scan around the area, you focused on the way ahead and took a deep breath.

        "Come on, Little Birdie."

    You slowly began your descent, shutting the door behind you.

    Jailbreak successful.

    At the bottom of the steps, you cracked the door open and peeked out. The hallway was darkened now, as it appeared someone had turned off the lights--but you were positive it wasn't you. It was probably one of those "entities" that dwelled in this place, one that was at least savvy enough to not waste electricity. But if that did indeed mean there was someone else down here, you had to be twice as careful now.

    Slowly opening the door, you stepped out into the hallway. The bird remained quietly perched on your shoulder, though you could still sense its questioning of your judgement. There didn't seem to be anyone else here, but you weren't going to take any chances by letting your guard down. You needed to quickly find a place to look for the last golden key, but where...? The first one was found in the basement, while the second one was found in the garden, and the third one was found in the attic. The first floor was already cleared without finding any of them, so that only leaves the second floor here.

    You quickly scanned through the potted plants and behind the window curtains, but found nothing. There were only two possible locations left: the master bedroom and the nursery. You decided to scan the master bedroom next, but found nothing there, either. Only the nursery was left now.

    Ducking into the little pink room, you took one more glance out into the hall 
before closing the door. You then proceeded to check every nook and cranny of the room for the last golden key. The bird fluttered about, seemingly to assist your search. Knowing that your freedom was on borrowed time only made your already tense mood worse.

    Where is it, where is it...?

    Having no luck, you let out a cry of frustration and slumped over on the bed, before laying down and curling up into a fetal position. The bird fluttered over to perch on the nightstand with a concerned look, which you met with a look of exasperation. You then watched as the bird proceeded to hop down and drag the pink rabbit doll laying on the floor over to you with its beak.

    Sitting up to retrieve the rabbit doll, you dusted it off and stared at it. In spite of its ragged and worn appearance, it brought an odd sense of comfort to you. If anything, its shabbiness was merely a sign that it was well-loved. You couldn't help but hug it against your frame as you laid back down. Maybe... a quick power-nap wouldn't hurt. You were pretty exhausted, after all, plus it would provide a feasible ruse in case you got caught down here.

    As you drowsily snuggled up with the rabbit doll in your arms, you suddenly noticed something hard inside it as it pressed against your ribcage. With a glance at the bird, who was sitting back on the nightstand again, you left the rabbit doll on the bed bed and look inside the desk's drawers for anything you could use to open it up. After a few moments of looking, you found a small sewing box hidden inside the middle-right drawer.

    Got SEWING BOX.

    Bringing it over to the bed, you sat down and got to work. The bird watched as you took the little scissors from the box, laid the rabbit doll on your lap with its back facing you, and carefully began to snip the center seam open. Once the inside was accessible enough, you put the scissors back and carefully reaching in and dug around until you found the hard object that was inside it.

    Carefully pulling the object out, you opened your hand to see what it was.
    It was a golden key with an arabesque, diamond-shaped bow.
    You and the bird exchanged a look of disbelief.

    Got DIAMONDS KEY.

    The bird tweeted eagerly as it fluttered in the air, seemingly in congratulations. You did feel a sense of pride in having found all four of these "arcane keys", but... what was so special about this last one? The other three were hidden throughout the property like a scavenger hunt, so why was this one hidden so damned well? You wouldn't even have found it if you didn't decided to crash on the bed for a siesta, would you? Your cranium continued to reel with such thoughts as you put the key away in your inventory, side-by-side with its other three "friends". Not wanting to leave the rabbit doll with a hole in its back, though, you took a needle and some light pink thread from the box and sewed the seam closed.

    There, all fixed!

    You then left the rabbit doll on the bed as you put the sewing box back where you found it, called the bird back to your shoulder, and went to head out the door. But as you passed by the crib, you stopped and stared at it in silence. That solemn weight in your ribs, returning. You looked over at the rabbit doll on the bed, then back at the crib. Then, as if your movement was switched to autopilot, you went back over to the bed and picked up the little pink rabbit.

    Got RABBIT DOLL.

    You slowly made your way to the crib with the toy in hand. Staring into the empty cot, you quietly placed the rabbit doll inside it. With a small, rueful smile appeared on your viscerocranium, you felt that weight in your ribs lifting a bit.

    Then, with one final glance at the now-occupied crib, you went to leave the nursery--for real this time. Minding your vigilance, though, you cracked the door open to peek out into the hallway before you exited and quietly hurried down the staircase into the kitchen. Opening the sink cabinet, you gently plucked the bird off your shoulder.

        "Ready to see where those keys go, Little Birdie?"

        The bird looked back out into the foyer, before giving you a reluctant nod.

    Bending down, you allowed your little friend to flutter inside the passage first, before crawling in yourself. After a few moments, you entered that weird space strewn with random objects again. The bird sat on the ground waiting for you, in front of the mysterious door. A faint aura of magic radiated from the lock and chains, as if in awareness.

    You slowly approached the door, and took a deep breath.

    The time has come.

    You took out each golden key and inserted them into their corresponding keyholes.

    Hearts. Spades. Clubs. Diamonds.

    With each key inserted and turned, the lock emitted a reverberant click. Then, after the last one was inserted and turned, the lock fell off and disappeared into a poof of sparkly dust, keys and all, with the chains soon following. The walls rumbled as the door slowly opened.

    Stepping inside, you found yourself in a slightly smaller room with the same indigo stone ground and wavy blue sandstone walls as the previous. The difference, however, was that these walls were encrusted head-to-toe in pink, blue, purple, turquoise, and white gems that glowed like stars. You absentmindedly expected to find some kind of life-sized, anthropomorphic cat doll in a frilly dress standing there. But instead, you find yourself before what appeared to be a large, floor-length mirror on the wall in front of you. It had a fancy, silvery-white frame with star-like adornments; its "glass" bearing a pale, pinkish-purple hue. On either side of the mirror was what looked like a dark blue streetlamp alight with a violet-colored flame.

    Curious, you stepped closer. The mirror radiated an aura of magic that felt... different, as if it were not of this world. You reached out and touched the surface of the glass, to see what would happen. Upon contact, it rippled for a brief moment, as if you were touching the familiar river waters you rode across.

    You softly gasped as you realized that this was no ordinary mirror.

    It was a portal.

    You turned around to find the bird now sitting on the ground nearby. For a few moments, you gazed at one another in silence. Somehow, you both knew that wherever this portal-mirror went, the little one could not follow. But it didn't seem afraid, though--quite the contrary. It must have figured that whatever was on the other side of the mirror was something you were meant to discover, thus you resolved that you will do just that.

        "Wait here, okay?"

        The bird nodded.

        "Okay."

    You shifted your focus back to the portal-mirror, putting on the bravest face you could muster as you steeled yourself.

    Here goes nothing.

    Reaching out to the mirror, it "absorbed" you as you passed through it.

Chapter Text

    On the other side of the mirror, you found yourself in a strange room. The walls seemed to be made of blue brick masonry; the floor beneath your feet consisting of a blue-and-magenta checkerboard pattern. Before you, there was four regular-looking doors–a cyan-tinted one with a darker cyan clubs symbol, a pink-tinted one with a darker pink hearts symbol, another cyan-tinted one with a darker cyan spades symbol, and another pink-tinted one with a darker pink diamonds symbol. Turning around, you saw that the mirror had a light yellow glow on this side, as well as two regular streetlamps on either side.

        Looks like we’re not in Kansas anymore, you thought.

    You looked down at yourself, and gasped. You were no longer wearing your plain purple-hued robes and your beloved string of pearls, but instead, a more indigo-hued set of robes with a flounced skirt and sleeves. The tiers of the skirt and sleeves had a repeating color pattern that started with a faded blue, then faded purple, then faded pink, and so on. That plain piece of rope tied around your waist was replaced by a gold ribbon sash; tied into a bow at the left side. Your weathered red rainboots were replaced by a pair of more fashionable ones that bore a dark violet color and more pronounced heels. Around your shoulders was a short, indigo-purple cloak with frilled edging; tied together by another gold ribbon into a bow.

    As you observed this sudden change of wardrobe, you were admittedly impressed. Whatever this place was, it sure has a good taste in fashion. But then you noticed that the gauze wrapped around your hands and arms was gone. They were now fully exposed, in their natural, skeletal glory. However, the gauze wrapped around your “bad” eyesocket was still there. You couldn’t help but wonder why this was, but decided not to worry about it–you had some exploring to do.

    You tried the door with the clubs symbol, whose knob felt cold to the touch. However, it was locked.

    You tried the door with the hearts symbol, whose knob felt moist to the touch. However, it was locked.

    You tried the door with the spades symbol, whose knob felt warm to the touch. However, it was locked.

    Then finally, you tried the door with the diamonds symbol. There was no particular sensation to the knob, but it gave you the most indescribable level of dread you have ever felt in your life. However, it was locked as well.

    Not knowing what else to do, you decided to go up and read the wooden sign that was posted in the middle of the room. It said:

    YOU’VE COME THIS FAR
    BUT NOW YOU MUST FACE
    THE DARKNESS WITHIN
    THIS CURSED PLACE

    You jump in surprise as the door bearing the clubs symbol began to glow brighter, followed by a reverberant click. Approaching it, you found that the door was unlocked now.

    Guess you’re going through this one first.

    With only a moment’s hesitation, you turned the knob, opened the door, and entered.

    On the other side of the door, you found yourself in a large, cyan-hued room that bore striped walls and checkerboard flooring (with a lighter-shaded clubs symbol on each of the darker tiles); the furnishings making it look like a quasi-replica of the house’s basement. Most of the floor was coated in a light snowdrift that seemed to pile up higher in the room’s corners.

    There was a lit fireplace in the middle of the north wall (except with blue fire instead of orange), a fancy-framed painting of what looked like a shut eye mounted above it, a bubbling chemistry set sitting atop a wooden table to the left of it, and a fancy-looking bookshelf to the right of it. Mounted above the chemical table and bookshelf was a fancy-looking glass sconce alight with a blue flame.

    In the middle of the room were two baby cradles with plain white sheets. Between the cradles, there was a flat wooden box on the floor with a clubs-shaped symbol carved on top of its lid. At the bottom-left corner was a crudely-decorated Gyftmas tree, and at the bottom-right corner was a crudely-built snowman. Hanging from the ceiling were glowing, star-shaped ornaments; as well as a shiny, star-shaped garland strung across the room’s entire perimeter.

    Hearing the snow crunch under your feet as you stepped further in, you decided to check out the bookshelf first. None of its contents seemed out of the ordinary as you scanned across them; mostly books pertaining to phytochemistry and classic literature. That is, until your trailing gaze crossed a book that was different from the rest. It was maroon-colored, sticking out like a sore thumb compared to everything else in the room.

    “Encyclopedia of Terminology”, it was titled.

    Curious, you took it off the shelf and began to flip through it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, until you came across a page with a deliberately bent corner, in which there was a definition circled with red pen:

        “EXP
        [acronym: Execution points]

        The amount of quintessential corruption gained through inflicting lethal harm upon others. When lethal harm is successfully inflicted, this corruption grows and multiplies. When enough corruption is gained, it leads to the increase of one’s LOVE.”

    Feeling your intangible stomach beginning to twist in knots, you reluctantly continued flipping through until you reached another page with a bent corner, with another definition circled with red pen:

        “LOVE
        [acronym: Level of Violence]

        The collective amount of quintessential corruption caused by gaining a certain amount of EXP. The more lethal harm one inflicts, the easier it is to accept the crossing of the "moral event horizon”. The closer to this crossing one becomes, the more bloodshed they will likely leave in their wake.“

    A harsh cloud of breath puffed out as you slammed the book shut and put it back on the shelf. You suddenly notice that the colors of the room had changed to a more purplish hue, which struck you as odd. Glancing up at the painting above the fireplace, you could’ve sworn you noticed that the eye was slightly open now.

    There was another strange book lower down on the shelf; more cherry-colored this time.

    "Skeleton Typefaces - A”, it was titled.

    You took it off the shelf and began to flip through it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just pages describing each known font spoken by the skeleton race that began with the letter “A”. There was quite a lot of them, actually, with many you had never even heard of.

    But as you reached the end of the book, your browline furrowed.
    Something wasn’t right.

    After a moment of pondering, you could’ve sworn there was one particular typeface that wasn’t among the list. Maybe there was some mistake? Maybe you weren’t paying enough attention? You decided to flip back through the pages–more thoroughly this time–to see what the deal was.

    A few dozen pages later, you suddenly chance upon a thin, jagged line of paper sticking out from the book’s inner binding. It looked as if a page had been torn out… but why?

    You absentmindedly reached to graze a finger against the jagged line, only to almost immediately recoil as you felt a sharp pain upon contact. After a brief grimace, you then suddenly notice that the room had now changed to a more reddish-purple hue. Glancing up at the painting above the fireplace, you could’ve sworn the eye had opened up a bit more.

    Trepidly closing the book and returning it to where you found it, you then noticed yet another strange book toward the bottom of the shelf. It was the brightest red you had ever seen; easily the most noticeable of them all. But there was something… else about it, noting the lack of a title on its spine.

    Removing it from the shelf, you then discovered why.

    It wasn’t a book at all, but a box shaped like one (like those you’d find at the local home decor shop). The “front cover” was embossed with the outline of a sinister-looking clubs symbol.

    With a dry gulp, you carefully opened it.

    Inside was a large knight chesspiece, as red as the brightest ruby, sitting nestled on a maroon-colored velvet pillow that molded to its form. You slowly reached in and picked it up, trepidly grasping it in your hand.

    Got RED KNIGHT.

    A vague sense of foreboding sank into your ribs as you continued to gaze at the object, before absentmindedly turning to look over at the box that sat between the cradles. Upon closer examination, you noticed that there was a circular notch on top of the lid that look roughly as big as the base of the chesspiece you were holding.

    Hm… maybe…?

    You tried to insert the chesspiece into the notch. It fit perfectly. Then, with a twist, you heard a click as the locking mechanism was released. You gently clenched your teeth in anticipation as you then proceeded to open the box.

    Inside was what looked like a “handmade” children’s storybook; consisting of several hole-punched crayon illustrations bound together by red yarn. On the cover were what looked like three crudely-drawn ducklings: the one in the middle was pink, the one on the left was light blue, and the one on the right was orange.

    “The Three Little Ducklings” it was titled, in reddish-brown crayon.

    You couldn’t help but notice that the pink duckling was slightly larger than its siblings, likely indicating that it was the eldest of the brood, though it still struck you as odd. Slowly picking up the book, you then began to read it.

“Once upon a time, there were three little ducklings.”

        The illustration showed the three ducklings sitting in their nest; with the pink duckling off to the left side, and the other two off to right. The other two were shown to be still partially inside their eggshells, indicating that they were just recently born. Above each of them were the numbers 1, 2, and 3, respectively.

“The three little ducklings went out to play,
Over the hills and far away.”

        The illustration showed the three ducklings waddling up the incline of a grassy hill. The pink was the first in the line, then the light blue, and then the orange.

“Mama Duck called out, ‘Quack, quack, quack!’”

        The illustration showed a jade-green duck with three bold lines near its head, indicating that it was speaking.

“But only two of the ducklings came back.”

        The illustration showed the jade-green duck now standing next to the light blue and orange ducklings, with a question mark above its head. Above each of the ducklings were the numbers 1 and 2, respectively.

“Papa Duck called out, 'Quack, quack, quack!’”

        The illustration showed a purple duck with three bold lines near its head, indicating that it was speaking.

“But one little duckling never came back.”

        The illustration showed a long-distance view of the two ducks and the two remaining ducklings standing at the bottom of the grassy hill.

        The next showed a close-up view of the purple and jade-green ducks looking at one another.

        Then the next showed the four ducks waddling up the grassy hill. The purple duck was first in line, the jade-green duck was second, the light blue duckling was third, and the orange duckling was fourth.

    A pit began to form in your intangible stomach as you continued on.

        The next illustration showed the duck family wandering towards a massive cloud of black scribbles.

        The next showed them beginning to walk into it.

        Then the next showed the cloud of scribbles beginning to engulf the four of them as they went further in.

    A sense of dread sank deeper and deeper as you continued on.

        …A void of black scribbles.

        …A long-distance view of the missing pink duckling standing in the void with its back turned.

        …A closer view.

        …The duckling begins to turn its head.

        …The duckling is now looking straight at you. It had bright, doll-like, scarlet eyes that dripped black; a third eye within its gaping beak.

    The room suddenly turned a bright red. The eye in the painting above the fireplace opened wide, showing a big, scarlet iris. Hundreds more of these scarlet eyes sprouted from the walls, leering down at you. You clutched your skull with both hands, dropping the book in the process, as you began to feel merciless psychological torment.

        UGLY DUCKLING UGLY DUCKLING UGLY DUCKLING
        UGLY DUCKLING UGLY DUCKLING UGLY DUCKLING
        UGLY DUCKLING UGLY DUCKLING UGLY DUCKLING

    The air smelled burning-hot. It was hard to breathe. You clutched your ringing skull tighter, wordlessly begging for it all to stop.

    …Eventually, it did.

    Releasing your grip on your skull, you noticed the room had changed even more dramatically. The entire place, every nook and cranny, was covered top-to-bottom in red. The flames that lit the fireplace and sconces were all out now. The snow–as well as that poor snowman–had melted, leaving naught but puddles. The chemical table had been knocked over, leaving a mess off broken glass and spilled liquids. The decorated tree was knocked over as well, littering the floor with broken ornaments. Several spots on the bookshelf were barren, as several books were laying scattered on the floor. The stars on the ceiling had fallen, and the garland had been mostly ripped down.

    You looked down at the cradles. They were laying on their side now, spilling out what unsettlingly looked like dust. A lump of terror caught in your intangible throat as you struggled to process seeing this massacre of red.

    But when you looked down at yourself? You were not.
    You were the one thing–the only thing in this room–that was not red.

    As you continued questioning how this could possibly be, you suddenly began to feel an overwhelming lightheadedness. That ringing in your skull returned as your vision began to blur.

    Then finally, you collapsed onto the floor and blacked out.

    In the void of dreams, you heard a strange voice. It almost sounded like… your own.

        “Look at yourself.
        You are lost.
        But what did you lose?
        Was it your innocence?
        But how did you lose it?
        Was it because you are 'ugly’?
        But what does it mean, to be 'ugly’?
        …
        Violence is ugly, is it not?
        Corruption is ugly, is it not?
        Commiting deeds of evil is ugly, is it not?
        …
        So look yourself.
        Deep down into your SOUL.
        A r e  y o u  r e a l l y  u g l y ?”

    You jerk awake to find yourself laying on the floor outside in the main room. Slowly getting up on your feet, you turned to examine the door you somehow returned from. It was now red instead of cyan, and wouldn’t budge when you tried the knob. Turning to the left, you also noticed that the lamppost in the nearby corner had gone out.

    That’s odd, you thought.

    As you continued staring at the now-unlit lamp, you suddenly note the drop in temperature since you were last here. It felt as if it dropped a good few degrees. Looking around in confusion, you then noticed what looked like black goop dripping from the mirror you entered this place through.

    What the…?

    You cautiously went up to investigate, squinting. There was, indeed, black liquid dripping from the mirror… but you had no idea what it was even made of. It wasn’t ink, or tar, or paint, or any other substance you could possibly think of–all you knew is that there was no way in hell you were touching it.

    Suddenly, you heard an audible click echo throughout the area behind you. It sounded like it came from the door with the hearts symbol.

    Going up to try the knob, you found it was unlocked now.

    And so you opened it and went through.

    On the other side of the door, you found yourself in a large, pink-hued room that also had striped walls and checkerboard flooring (with a lighter-shaded hearts symbol on each of its darker tiles). There were several exotic-looking potted plants and flowers covering the perimeter of the room, with what appeared to be blades of grass poking out from between the tiles; making it all look like a quasi-replica of the house’s backyard garden. In the middle of the room was an adult-sized bed with plain white sheets. Beside it was a small metal garden table with an oriental tea set sitting on top, alongside what appeared to be some mochi balls to go with it. On the floor in front of the bed was a flat wooden box with a hearts-shaped symbol carved on top of its lid.

    Stepping further in, you took a breath of ease. It was admittedly a lot more pleasant in here than the last room–but then again, looks can be deceiving. If there was a reoccurring pattern happening here, you were sure to soon find it.

    Thus, you began to explore.

    Wandering among the forest of plant life, you peeked around every corner. There was no bookshelf this time, so where were you supposed to look for whatever you were supposed to find? Well, it seemed the answer came in the form of one tile located toward the left side of the room jostling under your foot. Looking down, you jostled it with said foot again, then bent down and jostling it a bit more with your hands.

    What in the world…?

    Squinting in confusion, you dug your phalanges underneath the tile, removing it with relative ease. In the shallow space below where it once was, you found a gray-colored book. “Monster Biology”, it was titled.

        What’s this doing here? you wondered.

    Putting the tile aside, you picked up the book, blew the excess debris off the cover, and opened it up to read through it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a book explaining the many aspects of how monsters work, complete with explanatory illustrations here and there.

    That is, until you reached the segment about reproduction–namely, some particular lines of text that were highlighted in light grey:

        “Every monster that has walked the earth is, to put it simply, the living incarnate of the bond between their parents.”

        “Every monster soul contains a fragment from that of each parent, fused into one.”

        “Because of this, monsters can only reproduce so many times before they reach the point of infertility.”

        “The birth of every addition to monsterkind is, indeed, no event to take lightly.”

        “For when a monster loses a child, they lose a part of themselves.
        …Quite literally.”

    The moment you read those last few words, you began to feel weird sickness, almost like nausea. Putting the book back where you found it and replacing the tile as it was, you reluctantly continued exploring the room. As you passed by some of the potted plants, however, you noticed that they were looking a lot more dulled and dry–but decided to pay them no mind.

    Wandering near the right side of the room, you stepped on another tile that jostled under your foot. Stepping back to remove it, you found another book underneath--a darker gray this time. "Curses, Hexes, and Other Maledictions", it was titled. Opening it up to read it, you found exactly what was advertised on the cover--a comprehensive encyclopedia of curses, hexes, bewitchments, plagues, and "other maledictions". It seemed like a relatively normal book (in spite of the, uh, subject matter).

    Until–surprise, surprise–you found a particular listing that was marked with a bent page corner:

        “SOUL HOLLOWING

        An unusual state of being that deprives an individual of their former self without necessarily "losing” themself. Because of this, it is widely considered to be the middle ground between having a SOUL and not. It is done through a simple ritual, in which the individual recites the appropriate incantation in the appropriate setting. Once done, the individual essentially become a “blank slate”, severed from all ties to their previous identity–even interpersonal relations–with only their first name and natural abilities intact. It is not quite known what sort of magic this ritual derives from, though it commonly believed to be linked to the occult, as its power is so strong that no amount of magic in this day and age can ever hope to dispel its effects. It should also be noted that a hollowed SOUL is immune to absorption, as there is not enough of it left to do so.

        The reason behind hollowing one’s SOUL varies between each individual, though they all relate to an aspect of the individual’s past or person that they want to separate themself from. These reasons include, but are not limited to:

• Penance for a serious crime or other wrongdoing(s)
• Dissociation from relative(s) with a criminal history
• Emancipation from abusive or negligent parent(s)
• Were the product of an unplanned pregnancy
• Last-resort suppression of traumatic experience(s)

        Since there is no possible authority that can overrule the decision to hollow one’s SOUL, and no known way to reverse it, it is a decision that should always be taken into serious consideration–for, to put it simply, SOUL HOLLOWING is the death of identity itself.“

    As you read those last few words, that weird sickness came back–much stronger this time. Trying to hold it back as best as you could, you put the book back where you found it and replaced the tile, before getting up to wander around the room a bit more. As you did so, however, you noticed that the plants were looking even more dulled and dry, but still decided to pay no mind to them.

    Wandering about near the north end of the room, you stepped on one more "bad” tile–but instead of jostling, it outright cracked and crumbled under your weight. Startled, you pulled your foot away before bending down to dig through the embrittled debris of the broken tile. Inside, you found another “fake book”–black this time–embossed with the outline of a sinister-looking hearts symbol. Opening it up, you found another large knight chesspiece, as black as the blackest night, sitting nestled on a dark grey velvet pillow that molded to its form. Slowly, you reached in to pick it up.

    Got BLACK KNIGHT.

    Looking over at the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, you figured by now that this chesspiece was the “key” to unlock it, just like the last one. So you went, and found another circular notch that looked big enough to fit the base of the chesspiece. You then placed the chesspiece inside the notch and turned it, followed by an audible click. The chest was unlocked now.

    Opening it up, you found a rather oriental-looking storybook with a light green hardcover binding inside. Framed on the front cover was a watercolor illustration, outlined with ink, of a very important-looking woman wearing a colorful kimono and a mask that reminded you of that spider lady from the garden. She was holding what seemed to be a wooden watering can.

    “The Empress of Trees” it was titled, in thin, black letters; the hanzi translation underneath in smaller letters.

    Curious, yet wary, you picked up the book and began to read it. Every illustration was in the same style as that on the cover, with the flavor text handwritten in ink, just like one would on a scroll.

“Once upon a time, there was a lovely empress.”

        The illustration showed the titular character standing gracefully.

“However, she was also very lonely, for her husband–the kindly emperor–was always busy with his duties.”

        The illustration showed the empress sitting alone on a bench, in what appeared to be the courtyard of a garden.

“The only thing she had for company was the beautiful garden that she lovingly grew.”

        The illustration showed the empress watering some intricately-drawn flowers and plants.

“But one day, a stork came to the empress and gifted her with a single seed.”

        The illustration showed a flying stork dropping a seed from its beak into the empress’s open hand.

“With great curiosity, the empress planted this seed and tended to it with great care to see what it would grow into.”

        The illustration showed the empress watering the planted seed.

“After a few months, the seed eventually grew into a little flowering tree.”

        The illustration showed the empress with a delightfully surprised posture as she stood next to the aforementioned tree. The tree had a pearly-white trunk with blue-green leaves and small, pink blossoms. What was strange, however, was that there was also mask tied around its upper trunk that looked similar to the empress’s.

“As the empress continued caring for the little tree, its blossoms kept growing fuller and more beautiful.”

        The illustration showed the empress spreading mulch on the tree’s roots with one hand, while the other hand was holding her watering can. Meanwhile, the blossoms on the tree did indeed look much larger and more prominent than before.

“'What a lovely tree!’ she said, 'I simply must grow more!’"

        The illustration showed a close-up of the empress with her hands clasped together.

"And sure enough, the stork returned one day with two more seeds for her to plant.”

        The illustration showed a flying stork dropping two seeds from its beak into the empress’s open hand.

“After a few months, two more trees grew under her care.”

        The illustration showed the empress watering the two aforementioned trees. The pair of trees looked similar to the first, except slightly smaller and with different-colored blossoms–the one on the left’s being light blue while the one on the right’s were orange. They, too, had similar masks tied around their upper trunks, but with a more boyish appearance.

“But as kind and caring as the empress was…”

        The illustration showed the empress standing joyfully among the two trees, now with larger blooms.

“…She was also very forgetful.”

        The illustration showed the first tree from the beginning, now wilted and dry, with the petals from what was once its blooming flowers littering the ground.

    You were beginning to have a bad feeling about where this was going.

        …A closer view of the tree. The background is dark.

        …A slightly closer view. The tree’s mask is beginning to morph into something more frightening and ugly, complete with horns sprouting from its forehead.

        …The mask is now completely deformed, possessing two sharp horns, metallic eyes, and a leering mouth.

    You suddenly began to feel extremely weak and lightheaded. Fumbling to put
the book down, your vision began to darken. As it darkened, you noticed the room itself darkening as well, every plant and flower slowly decaying to nothing. The bedsheets slipped away, spilling an unsettlingly dust-like substance. With hastened breath, you struggled to continue sitting up, but to no avail. Your vision continued to darken and blur as your consciousness wavered.

    Then finally, you collapsed on your side and blacked out.

    In the void of dreams, you heard that strange voice again.

        “Look at yourself.
        You are empty.
        'Deprived’ of the love you craved…
        You threw your memories away.
        You threw your past away.
        You left everything behind.
        Leaping to begin anew, dancing to forget.
        You grew up, filling your life with everything you thought you wanted.
        But in the end…
        The only thing you were 'deprived’ of…
        W a s  y o u .”

    You stir awake to find yourself laying out in the main room again. That weird sickness you felt was gone now. Carefully sitting up, you turned to find the hearts-symbol door now colored black instead of pink, and wouldn’t budge when you tried the knob. You had also noticed that the lamppost in the top-right corner had gone out as well.

    Feeling the room temperature dropping further, you turned to see that black goop dripping from the mirror was now reaching toward the floor. Tensing with unease, you then heard the echoing click of what sounded like the spades-symbol door unlocking.

    Mindfully trailing over to it, you went to try the knob. It was unlocked now.

    Thus, with one last glance back at the mirror, you opened the door and went through.

    On the other side of the door, you found yourself in another large, cyan-hued room that had striped walls and checkerboard flooring (with a lighter-shaded spades symbol on each of its darker tiles); the furnishings making it look like a quasi-replica of the house’s attic. Each corner of the room was adorned with a long curtain, along with a carpet that ran straight across the floor, reminiscent of those you’d find at a theater. Across the upper walls was a network of pipes and valves, exerting steam and heat from within.

    Against the middle of the north wall, there was what looked like an old, 18th-century loveseat. On either side of the loveseat, there was a large display cabinet of various masks used in theatrical performances from all over the world. Stacked along the left and right sides of the room, there were what looked like ragged costumes, old theatrical props, and worn scripts. In the middle of the room was another adult-sized bed with plain white sheets. On the floor in front of the bed was a flat wooden box with a spades-shaped symbol carved on top of its lid.

    Stepping further in, you made a fanning gesture at yourself. The warmth in here wasn’t exactly comfortable (and that’s coming from someone with no flesh). Looking around, you wondered how you were going to find anything in this hoarder’s mess. It was going to take forever to dig through it all.

    But just then, you noticed that each of the two display cabinets had a large drawer at the bottom, and decided to check there instead. Starting with the left cabinet, you opened its drawer–and sure enough, there was an ecru-colored book inside. “Mysteries of the Occult”, it was titled. Picking it up, you proceeded to flip through it. It appeared to be some kind of educational textbook, describing the peculiar nature of occult magic and its relationship with monsterkind. As you continued to flip through, you stop upon reaching one particular excerpt that was highlighted in very faint yellow:

        “Over the course of history, there had also been reports concerning mysterious objects believed to be linked to the occult as well. The root of these claims derive from the apparent increase in paranormal activity when such an item is found present. Some even claim that they can open a 'door’ to other worlds, or manifest things out of a certain individual’s subconscious. The certainty of such individuals are not exactly known, though there is evidence that suggests that it is genetically predisposed. These factors range from species, to birth order, to ancestral inheritance.”

    As you read through these words, you heard a trickle of liquid dripping from the pipeline behind you. Turning around, you saw what looked like murky-black water dripping on the floor. It dripped for a few moments, then stopped.

    What in the world…?

    After your mild disquiet ceased, you proceeded to go and open the other drawer. Inside, you found a cream-colored book. “Fundamental Psychology”, it was titled. After picking it up, you began to flip through it. It appeared to be some kind of educational textbook regarding the many aspects of psychology. You continued flipping through to the section regarding memories, until you reached a particular excerpt, highlighted in an even fainter yellow:

        “According to research, the most prominent causes of memory loss stems from the experience of a traumatic event–whether mentally, emotionally, physically, or all together. Sometimes they serve as a temporary coping mechanism, while other times, the damage is much more extensive (especially in regards to physical trauma). When a traumatic incident occurs, it can affect memory in the short term and long term, in several areas of the mind, leading to dissociative amnesia. In severe cases, the process of memory retrieval becomes so fragmented that it completely warps the things we’ve done, the places we’ve been, and the faces of people we know…
Often beyond recognition.”

    As you read those last few words, you heard more trickling from the pipeworks behind you. Turning around, you saw more of that murky-black water dripping on the floor for a few moments, before stopping. Squinting in nervous confusion, you then turn to notice something bulging from under the carpet beneath the loveseat. Curious, you went over to the left side of it and got down on your hands and knees to reach for whatever was hiding under the carpet.

    Upon feeling your hand graze it, you promptly grabbed it and pulled it out into view. It was yet another “fake book”–white this time–embossed with the outline of a sinister-looking spades symbol. Opening it up, you found another large knight chesspiece, as white as snow, sitting nestled on a pearly-white pillow that molded to its form. You slowly reached in and picked it up, clasping it in your quivering hand.

    Got WHITE KNIGHT.

    Promptly bringing it to the wooden box in front of the bed, you wondered what sort of perilous tale you’ll have to read this time. You proceeded to insert the chesspiece into the notch on top of the box, turning it until it made an audible click to indicate it was unlocked.

    Opening the box, you found what appeared to be an old-timey storybook with a hardcover binding. Framed against the spine was a glossy illustration of someone wearing a familiar black suit with a familiar light-blue turtleneck; his face out of view. Between his familiar gloved fingers, there was a tiny pair of pink ballet slippers. He was against a brick-walled backdrop, surrounded by images of toys–though for some reason, it felt as if he was paying no attention to them.

    “The Toymaker’s Folly” it was titled, in bold, white letters.

    You slowly picked the book up and stared at it for a moment. Then, with a sigh of reluctance, you opened it and began to read. Each page had a glossy finish as well, making the book seem very well-made.

“Once upon a time, there was a kindly Toymaker.”

        The illustration showed the titular character standing in front of what appeared to be his shop, face still out of view, with his gloved hands calmly clasped together.

“He worked day and night to make toys for all the children of the village.”

        The illustration showed the Toymaker (face still obscured) now standing inside the shop, handing out toys to a group of various monster children wearing rustic-looking attire.

“One day, the Toymaker decided to make a very special toy…”

        The illustration showed the silhouette of the Toymaker at what appeared to be his worktable, assembling what appeared to be a small figure wearing a dress.

“…A pretty little doll.”

        The illustration showed a little six-inch doll with a uncannily skeletal appearance, wearing a short-sleeved, pink-hued dress with lots of frills and ribbons. Accompanying her attire were some white stockings and pink ballet shoes tied into bows in the back, as well as a pink, frilly ribbon tied around her “skull”. She stood in a graceful, ballerina-like stance on top of what appeared to be the Toymaker’s worktable, closely encircled by his gloved hands (perhaps to ease her balance so that she doesn’t wobble or fall over).

“Enraptured by his new creation, the Toymaker decided to keep the doll for himself and his wife; loving her as a father loves his child.”

        The illustration showed a side-view of the doll, still standing on the worktable, smiling up at the Toymaker as her little hand clung to his gloved finger.

“From that day forward, the Toymaker took pristine care of his little doll, showering her with handmade gifts every chance he got–including her very own dollhouse!”

        The illustration showed a montage of the Toymaker’s gloved hands interacting with the doll in various ways, either repairing her or giving her one of the aforementioned gifts (with the image featuring the dollhouse being front-and-center).

“Indeed, out of all the toys he had ever made, she was his favorite.”

        The illustration showed the doll sitting on the edge of a table, leaning against the Toymaker’s gloved fingers as they stroked the back of her “skull”.

“Until…”

        The illustration showed the doll peering out a window from inside her dollhouse.

“…She rarely saw him anymore.”

        The illustration showed a far-away view of the dollhouse’s exterior, with the Toymaker nowhere to be found.

“Whenever she did, she would call out to him–but he would hardly give an answer.”

        The illustration showed the doll standing outside her dollhouse, trying to get the Toymaker’s attention, but he continued on as if she wasn’t there.

“Puzzled, the doll went to see what he was up to.”

        The illustration showed a close-up view of the doll peeking out from a doorway.

“There, in his workshop, she found him making two new toys.”

        The illustration showed the Toymaker’s gloved hands assembling what looked like two toy soldiers (one in a light blue uniform, the other in orange) at his worktable, with the doll observing from the doorway.

“The doll was left all alone.”

        The illustration showed a close-up view of the doll, from the lower half of her visage, with a small tear trickling down her “cheekbone”.

“So she took a little boat…”

        The illustration showed the doll, with an expression of disheartened anger, pushing a toy sailboat across the floor of the shop. Her little ballet shoes were missing, seemingly left behind. Slung over her shoulder was what appeared to be a light purple, doll-sized blanket.

“…And became a little sailor.”

        The illustration showed the doll, now having left the shop, riding the sailboat across what appeared to be a lake. The blanket was now draped over her head and across her shoulders, resembling a cloak, held together by her tiny hand.

    But the story was not over yet.

        The next illustration showed the Toymaker, face still obscured, unlatching the dollhouse to look inside–only to find it empty.

        The next showed the Toymaker (face still obscured) now out in the shop, seemingly looking for the doll’s whereabouts.

        Then the next showed the Toymaker’s feet standing in front of a familiar pair of tiny ballet shoes laying strewn on the floor.

    You had a bad feeling about what happens next.

        …He holds the tiny slippers in his gloved hand.

        …He clenches them to his chest. The background darkens.

        …The lower part of his blue mask begins to show. The background darkens more.

        …His mask is almost completely in view now. A strange black liquid is seen leaking from the mask’s eyes. The background darkens even more.

        …His mask is completely visible now as he tilts his head upward, as if letting out a wail of heartbreak. The liquid is now pouring out from the mask’s eyes as well as from between its gritted teeth. The background is completely black.

        …Two feline he-monsters walk down the street outside, with an arm draped over one another in fraternal affection. The one one the left had light orange fur, while the one on the right had lime-green fur (plus slightly pointier ears); both wearing familiar red-and-gold uniforms.

        …Suddenly, a cloud of darkness descends upon them.

        …With fear in their eyes, the orange-furred one reaches out in distress as the green-furred one is dragged away into the shadows’ grasp.

        …The green-furred one, now a familiar-looking wind-up toy, sits within the obscured hands of what appears to be the Toymaker. His frightened eyes are completely black and dripping with pitch-black tears; his mouth dribbling with pitch-black drool.

    At that moment, blackish water began to pour from every open crevice in the pipeworks. Your vision began to become obscured by a thick cloud of white smoke. Coughing, you put the book down and stood up. You could barely see the room anymore.

    Just then, you suddenly notice what looked like a long, humanoid shape standing on the other side of the room in front of you. Among the sounds of spilling liquid and pneumatic billowing, you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of deep, rumbling breathing. You couldn’t tell if you were hallucinating because of the smoke inhalation, but it sounded like it was gradually getting louder.

    The smoke clears a little around the bed, blowing against the sheets to reveal yet another pile of that unsettlingly dust-like substance, before the smoke thickened again. Incoherent whispers began to drone within your skull as the shadow moved closer, seemingly getting bigger as well, extending an arm towards you. Your vision began to blur as the smoke continued making it harder and harder to breathe.

    Then finally, you collapsed on the floor, passed out.

    In the void of dreams, you felt like you were floating in midair. You were curled in a semi-fetal position, feeling small and vulnerable. From below, and all around, you felt as if some gargatuan being from the deepest abyss was reaching out to engulf you in its clutches.

    In the void of dreams, you felt something calling to you from the vast expanse of time and space.

    …But it could not reach you.

    You wake up on the floor outside in the main room, now noticeably dimmer than before, turning to find the spades-symbol door now colored white instead of cyan, and wouldn’t budge when you tried the knob. The lamppost in the bottom-left corner had gone out as well. Only one lamp remained.

    Feeling the room temperature dropping even further, you turned to see that black dripping from the mirror was now starting to spill across the floor.

    Dear God, what is that stuff?

    You heard the echoing click of what could only be the last door left to open–the one with the diamonds-symbol. The knob that emanated no heat, cold, or moisture, yet left you perturbed.

    Slowly going over to it, you tried the knob. It was unlocked now.

    You took a moment to stare at this diamonds-symbol painted on the door. Is this really the last one? What will lie beyond this time? What else could there possibly be?

    …Well, guess you’re about to find out.

    Thus, with a tensing grip, you slowly turned the knob and went through.

    On the other side of the door, you found yourself in another large, pink-hued room that had striped walls and checkerboard flooring (with a lighter-shaded diamonds symbol on each of its darker tiles). However, unlike the previous three rooms, this one was fundamentally different. It looked like some kind of hospital ward, with six hospital beds lined against the west and east walls (or three on either side). The sheets of the bottom-left bed was tinted light blue, while the ones on the bottom-right were tinted orange; the ones on the middle-left were tinted purple, while the ones on the middle-right were tinted jade-green; the ones on the top-left were tinted yellow, while the ones on the top-right were more of a plain off-white hue. On the floor in the middle of the room, there was a flat wooden box with a diamonds-shaped symbol carved on top of its lid. The air was filled with the faint rhythm of beeping electrocardigrams and puffing oxygen tanks, befitting the overall theme.

    Looking toward the north wall, you saw a little sidetable with a plain vase of six flowers sitting atop it. Like the sheets on the beds, one was light blue, another was orange, another was purple, another was jade-green, another was light yellow, and another was some kind of off-white. Above the table, you saw what appeared to be a framed poem mounted on the wall.

    Stepping closer to read, it said:

        “A dainty flower
        Upon each bed;
        To honor the blighted,
        Forgotten dead.”

    Furrowing your browline in thought, your gaze shifted down to the vase of flowers before you. The words of this poem appeared to be some kind of hint about what to do. It sounded like you were supposed to take each of these flowers and lay them upon their corresponding beds.

    Thus, you began by taking the light blue flower and placing it upon the bottom-left bed.

        A flower for brother.

    You took the orange flower and placed it upon the bottom-right bed.

        A flower for brother.

    You took the purple flower and placed it upon the middle-left bed.

        A flower for father.

    You took the jade-green flower and placed it upon the middle-right bed.

        A flower for mother.

    You took the light yellow flower and placed it upon the top-left bed.

        A flower for friend.

    Then you took the last flower and placed it upon the top-right bed.

        A flower for their friend.

    The flowers began to glow in unison, followed by a loud, metallic click.

        Praying for this nightmare’s end.

    Turning around, you noticed that the frame on the wall was cracked opened like a door. Behind it, you found a “fake book” once again–some kind of pale green this time–embossed with the outline of a sinister-looking diamonds symbol. Opening it up, you found another large knight chesspiece, the palest green you had ever seen, sitting nestled on a light seafoam-green pillow that molded to its form. In eerie silence, you gradually reached in and picked it up.

    Got PALE KNIGHT.

    The distant ambience of machines began to slow, filling you with mild unease. Proceeding to the wooden box, you inserted the chesspiece into the circular notch on top of its lid, turning it until it clicked. But upon opening it, you found no storybook. Instead, you found several sheets of aged paper of what looked like a childish scrawlings. With an expression of disquieted confusion, you decided to pick up and read each of them, one-by-one.

        “WELCOME TO THEIR SPECIAL HELL” said the first, scrawled in red. Below the words was a crudely-drawn picture of four familiar people, whose faces were completely scribbled over in black.

        “EVEN DEATH HAS FORSAKEN THEM” said the second, scrawled in dark grey (except “death” was in pink for some reason). Around the edges of the page were crudely-drawn pictures of those two strange beings from the basement, the Sphinx, and that strange masked man with no shadow.

        “THEY HAVE LOST SOMETHING - AND WE ARE PAYING” said the third, scrawled in some kind of mahogany-brown. Around the bottom edges were crudely-drawn pictures of a familiar yellow bird gettign shot with a gun, four familiar human children getting stitched together from the waist down, and a familiar wind-up toy cat trembling as it is lifted up by a pair of familiar gloved hands.

        “THIS STORY BEGAN WITH YOU” said the fourth, scrawled in dark magenta. Below the words was a picture of six white, upside-down hearts with black outlines (likely meant to represent monster SOULs).

        “AND WITH YOU IT MUST END” said the fifth, scrawled in dark magenta once again. Below the words was a crudely-drawn picture of what appeared to be the same six upside-down hearts from before, but now cracked in half.

        “REMEMBER THEM” said the sixth, scrawled in mint-green. Around the edges of the page were crudely-drawn pictures of six flowers that looked similar to the ones you put on the hospital beds.

        “BURY THEM” said the seventh, scrawled in mint green once again. Below the words was a crudely drawn picture of six graves, with each of the the six flowers from before placed on top of the disturbed dirt.

    Just then, the colors in the room began to fade to a sickly pale green, the ambience slowing to a snail’s pace. You watched as the box and its contents slowly disappeared; a tiny, pale pink ball of light emerging in their place. As if by instinct, you slowly reached to take the ball of light into your hands. It floated towards you, as if that was exactly what it wanted. You then proceeded to take that very ball of light and hold it against your ribcage. It flashed for a second, before you felt it absorbing into your SOUL until it disappeared completely.

    At that precise moment, you felt as if something deep inside you had awaken from a thousand-year slumber–a tingle, permeating throughout your frame.

    The room faded to an absolute hue of pale green.

    The ambience cut to a droning halt.

    Then finally, as this “awakening” was brought about within, the room around you vanished into oblivion.

    In the void of dreams, you heard that strange voice once more.

        “Look at yourself.
        You are broken.
        Your mind, your memories, your very identity…
        Shattered into pieces, like the surface of a mirror.
        After all this time, do you still not see?
        They have waited decades for you.
        Begging to be remembered.
        Begging for the mercy of Death itself.
        It is time to end this anathema once and for all.
        I t  i s  t i m e  t o  c o m e  h o m e .”

    You shuddered as you woke up on the floor in the main room, feeling the tremendous chill in the air–figuratively and literally. Sighing groggily, you then noticed that your hand was touching something wet and black, prompting you to let out a sharp gasp and hastily sit up. Staring at the black stain on your hand for a moment, then at the source of where it came from, your gaze traced it to that black goop dripping from the mirror–now a complete trail leading up to the door behind you. The dead air droned heavily within your skull, adding to the eeriness of this sudden change in atmosphere.

    Turning around, you saw that the diamonds-symbol door was now a sickly, pale green; refusing to budge just like all the others. The last lamp was out now. There was nowhere else to go, and nothing else to see. But what madness awaited you on the other side of that mirror, now that you’ve achieved this so-called “enlightenment”?

    Your gaze drifted back to the mirror, still glowing in the darkness among the two “regular” lampposts, despite that goopy substance spilling out and trailing from it. The unnaturalness of its presence made you reluctant to cross back over, but with nowhere else to go, you didn’t have much of a choice. Staying here would do no more good.

    Putting on the bravest expression you could muster, you slowly followed the trail of black goop until you reached the mirror. Your gaze drifted down to your stained hand one last time, before lightly clenching it into a fist for a moment, accompanied with a quiet sigh.

        I hope I’m not in too much trouble, you thought.

    Shifting your focus back to the mirror, you took one last moment to steel yourself, slowly reached out, and passed back through.

Chapter Text

     Upon emerging from the mirror to whence you came, you suddenly froze. Everything looked like a pitch-black void, save for the glow of mirror and the twin lampposts that still remained. You looked down at yourself to find that you were back in your original attire, pearls and all, confirming your return to whence you came–so what the hell was going on here?

    Your gaze drifted around the room (assuming that it still was), before realization hit you: the bird was gone.

        “Little Birdie?”

        No answer.

        “Little Birdie?!”

        No answer, yet again.

    Carefully making your way back out into the main space, you didn’t find the bird here, either. There was, however, a conveniently-placed lantern emitting a cyan-colored light sitting on the ground in front of you. Picking it up, you held it high in the air.

        “Where are you, Little Birdie?”

        Still no answer.

    Your fear of whatever was out there was pretty much overshadowed by your concern regarding the bird’s whereabouts now.

    Using the lantern to light your way through the blackened tunnel, feeling as if you were crawling through the throat of some abyssal beast, you reached the cabinet door under the kitchen sink and pushed it open. Once open, you crawled forth to find that the lights in the kitchen had gone out.

        What the hell…? you thought.

    Just then, the room began to shake violently, prompting you to take the lantern and duck under the table. In the near distance, you heard what sounded like something caving in. Then, after a few moments, it all stopped. Coming out from under the table, you held the lantern toward the still-partially-opened cabinet under the sink to find a few pieces of rubble scattered about nearby.

    Well, there’s definitely no way you’re going back now.

    Leaving the kitchen, you found that the foyer was not much better off, having its lights gone kaput as well. In fact, it seemed like the entire house was going through a blackout–but how…?

    As you passed by the living room, you heard the sound of the TV powering on. Peeking in through the doorway, you saw that the TV was indeed on (despite the apparent lack of electricity), showing colored bars among thin lines of static on its screen. Then, it cut to a blue screen with three flashing, vertically-aligned words that said “ALERT ALERT ALERT” in white letters; accompanied by a single, prolonged, droning beep.

    Seeing and hearing this, anxiety rose in realization: it was the emergency broadcast system. The system was implemented decades ago (alongside those outdoor sirens) to warn of incoming severe weather and whatnot. But why it was going off now, you hadn’t the foggiest.

    The droning beep stopped after a few moments, allowing the digitized voice that relayed each message to speak.

        “This is the Emergency Broadcast System serving the Ebott Valley area.” it said, “Please stand by.”

    After a few moments of silence, it cut to a white slide featuring what looked like a black, dotted outline of some kind of stick figure (like one you’d find on a bathroom sign) with a tiny black question mark in the center of its facial region; the words “MISSING PERSON(S) ALERT” flashing below in black letters.

    Huh, this is a rare one. You’ve only seen this a few times in the past, when someone in town–usually a child–was reported missing.

    That droning beep sounded once again, though more distorted this time, as the image on the screen flickered and rolled in a glitch-like manner for a brief moment before “fixing” itself. After that, the message finally began.

        "This message has been issued at the request of ▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋ and is in effect for the entirety of Ebott Valley as of ▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋▋." it said, "At ▋▋▋▋▋▋, an adult was reported missing in northwest Ebott Valley and is believed to have eloped voluntarily. Description: 27-year-old female skeleton, wearing purple robes, red boots, and a blue pearl necklace."

    Wait... what?

        “If you have any information,” it continued, “Please contact local authorities as soon as po-o-o-o-o-o–”

    The sound and picture began to glitch out horribly. The alert then began to play that distorted beep on repeat, in unison with an unusual and creepy message:

        “GO UPSTAIRS. HE IS UPSET. GO UPSTAIRS. THE CLOCK IS STILL FROZEN. GO UPSTAIRS. PLEASE HELP US. GO UPSTAIRS. GO UPSTAIRS. GO UPSTAIRS. GO UPSTAIRS. G-G-GO U-U-UPSTA-A-AI–”

    The deepened, malfunctioning voice began to draw out those last few words, before being replaced by the sound of screeching static. The horribly-glitching image on the screen displayed various odd symbols flickering in place of the alert title, letter-by-letter. The screen then cut to a split-second image of what looked like the blackened shape of a warped, ghost-like face with a gaping mouth against a dark grey background. The TV promptly cut to static and shut itself off.

    Hearing a resounding thud coming from upstairs, you stumble back out in the foyer in alarm. Then, you heard the phone suddenly begin to ring. Its ringing sounded much duller and lower-pitched than before, as if its battery was dying.

        Ugh, what now? you wondered.

    The ringing continued, prompting you to let out a sigh of frustration and reluctance before going to pick it up.

        “Hello…?”

        “Come back, you stupid bitch, and get in the attic!” a panicked voice shrieked at you amongst a rather noisy background, before abruptly hanging up.

    Put off by the anonymous person’s outburst (and calling you a rude name), you hung the phone back on the hook. Well, guess you’re going back to the attic. It’s not like you’re the kind of person that would turn down a request from someone in need–and besides, you had a feeling that whoever (or whatever)’s trying to contact you won’t leave you alone until you do, anyway.

    Just then, you heard a distant, familiar tweeting noise.

        “Little Birdie?”

    You heard more tweeting.

        “Little Birdie, is that you?”

    It sounded like it was coming from upstairs.

        “Stay where you are, I’m coming!”

    With lantern in hand, you approached the bottom of the ascending staircase. It seemed a lot darker up there than it was down here. God, ever since the moment you returned from that weird mirror-dimension, it felt like you stepped right into one of those horror games you used to play as a teenager. And worst of all, you could already feel the most unnatural, unholy presence looming in the very heart of your destination–and it was not happy.

    But you had to be brave. You needed to be brave, for your little feathered friend.

    You begin to walk up the staircase. The dead air within the quieted house thrummed like a tiny, perpetual breeze of wind. There was nothing else but your shaky breath, the faint, wooden creaking under your footsteps, and the metallic creaking of your lantern as it swayed about in your grasp.

    Finally, you reached the top step.

    You hold your lantern up higher as you slowly made your way down the hall, finding it odd that every shadow under your light, no matter how big or how far, was pointing toward the door to the attic. As you drew nearer to your destination, you heard what could only be described as the faint, ghostly moaning of something not of this world. It made that sinking dread in your ribs sink even faster, tying knots in your intangible stomach.

    Where the hell is that damned bird?

    You finally reach the attic door, noticing that its orange glow of heat was gone. Whatever was causing this blackout, this unexplainable phenomena, was just beyond the stairs above. This overwhelming presence, drawing every creeping shadow to it, was there–you could feel it.

    With a dry gulp, your cranium raced with every possible way this could go wrong. You almost wanted to bolt right back down those stairs, out the front door, without a second glance. But something, for whatever reason, kept you from doing it. Something always kept dragging you back, no matter how little reason you had to stay, no matter how much you wanted to get out of this godforsaken place.

    And now it was calling you into the pitch-black maw of the darkness on high.

    Your hand trembled as it grasped the knob. Through the wrappings around it, you felt the sharp chill of emptiness soaking down to the bone. With a short, silent prayer for mercy, your hand turned the knob and proceeded to open the door. Behind it, you found that the stretching network of pipes and machinery had gone dark. There was no heat, no steam, nothing.

    Gripping the handle of your lantern tighter, you began your ascent.

    As you walked up the steps, you could hear what sounded like the faint, distant bellowing of a horn or alarm, like one would hear at a power station when there was something wrong. It did kind of fit the situation, as things, indeed, have gone wrong–horribly, horribly wrong.

    You finally reach the door at the top. Taking a deep, shaky breath, your hand reached for the knob, and slowly turned it.

    Here we go.

    The “cathedral” was dark. Empty. Void of life. The rays of light that once shone through the stained-glass windows were gone. It looked as if it were the dead of night in here. As you stepped further in, you heard the door shut itself, follow by an audible click.

    Shit.

    Having no choice but to keep moving forward, you took a moment trying to calm yourself. As you made your way past the rows of caskets, you suddenly heard the sound of one of them clattering. Holding your lantern higher, you saw that it was coming from the one marked “Wingdings”.

    Now this whole thing felt like a horror game and a cheesy haunted attraction.

    But just then, you heard the most terrifying, blood-curdling howl you had ever heard in your life. It made your gaze deaden, bones rattle, and breath quicken. The howling continued, resounding through the area–but as you listened, you noticed something odd. It did not sound aggressive in any way, in spite of triggering your fight-or-flight response. It sounded quite distressed, in actuality. Almost… heartbroken.

    Rational thought came to quell your anxiety. You began to feel conflicted on what to do, wondering if whatever this thing was, was really as bad as it seemed. After a few moments, you came to a final resolve: proceed with caution.

    As you entered the dark, empty lobby, you were greeted by the relief of a familiar face.

        “Th-There you are!” the little monster cried as they scurried up to you, their dog-thing not far behind, “Where have you b-been?”

        “Ah…”

        You looked around.

        “What happened here? Where is everyone?”

        “They’re all d-down in the dressing room.” they replied, “They’re t-too afraid to c-come out.”

        “Why?”

        “It’s Mr. W-Wingdings…” they replied, “He… he…”

        Their tone of voice began to falter with anxiety.

        “Y-You have to go talk to h-him. Y-You need to r-reset the loop.”

    You saw their dog-thing’s ears go back and heard it let out an agitated whine as it looked over toward the theater’s left entrance.

        “But where’s the bird?”

    The answer came in the sound of a familiar tweeting noise, followed by the appearance of a familiar yellow bird as it hopped onto the dog-thing’s head.

        “Little Birdie!”

    The bird cheerfully tweeted in reply as it fluttered over to perch on your shoulder. You wondered how it got all the way up here, but you were glad it was alright nonetheless.

        “P-Please hurry!” the little monster implored, “Or else his darkness w-will swallow up th-the entire house!”

        “Where is he?”

        “He’s in the th-theater.” they replied, “Now h-hurry!”

    They and their dog-thing stepped aside, clearing your path. You weren’t as scared as you were before now that you were in familiar company, but tension still lingered in the air. You had no idea what that thing was capable of, thus your resolve still remained: proceed with caution.

    In the darkened, chilled theater, you observed a massive cloud of pitch-black shadows oozing across the rumbling walls. As you slowly made your way down the aisle, you felt the perching bird fidget a little. Its presence alone was enough of a comfort to you, though you remained vigilant against whatever was about to be thrown at you.

    Then, in the epicenter of it all, you saw a blackened, vaguely-shape figure laying about in the middle of the stage. It was comparably darker than all else, making it easily distinguishable. You flinch as you saw the mass shift, hearing it emit a gross squelching noise as it did so. Among the squelching were the sound of gurgling, croaking breaths. It looked as if the figure was enveloped by creeping shadows, giving them a rather wraithlike appearance.

    You looked over at the bird. Its gaze was fixated on the dark apparition before you, yet it seemed oddly unbothered by the sight.

    An eerie humming noise resounded through the area, followed by the figure rapidly twitching and convulsing, making it look as if they were “glitching out”. The humming “glitched” with them, affirming that the sound was, indeed, coming from them. It was absolutely unsettling.

    You jump as the being had a sudden conniption, hearing them let out a distorted, terrifying scream. It sounded like the cry of some abomination from the deep, or a hundred voices shouting as one. The being then slumped over, clutching their obscured face, letting out what sounded like a muffled, inhuman sob. They were clearly upset about something.

    With a dry gulp, you stepped closer, summoning the courage to speak up.

        “…Hello…?”

    The moment you spoke, it felt as if the entire universe came to a standstill.

    The rumbling stopped.

    The being’s vocalizations ceased.

    Everything fell silent.

    By the light of your lantern, you watched the accursed creature rise up, twisting its elongated neck, its sideways-facing head, to expose a mauve-colored, wrinkled, smiling mask.

    Your froze in horror.

    It was him.

    His posture straightened, allowing you a better view of his appearance in all its malformed glory. He looked much taller and elongated than you remember, not to mention that his arms seemed a lot longer than his whole body. It was quite apparent that his hands had “outgrown” those gloves, though you couldn’t really see what they looked like. You couldn’t really see his legs, either, as they seemed to be hidden under this dark shroud around him–that is, if they were even there at all.

    Dragging himself to face toward you, the rest of his body followed in a fluid, slug-like manner. The shape of his figure seemed to change with every position, from looking like your average hunchback, to looking as skinny as a beanpole, to looking as if he had a potbelly. You flinch as his mask suddenly began to outright glitch for a moment; between his own, the director’s, and the Toymaker’s.

    You knew it. They were all one in the same.

    As his gurgling breaths continued, you noticed that there was black goop leaking from underneath his mask. After a few moments, the mask lifted up, exposing a ghastly, skeletal maw with crooked, ugly teeth. His jaws split apart into a gape, as if he were about to lunge at you and swallow you whole–only to suddenly cough up a massive surge of black goop, which splattered all over the stage. The sight made you cringe in disgust a little.

    After recovering from the sudden emesis, his mask glitched again, before changing to the director’s.

        “(Ÿ̸̧̝̮̙̝̺̿̌̒̔̒͐͘Ȯ̵͔̹̅̑̒̂̔́U̶̳̞̼̬͂̋͊͘͝.̶̞̺̤̼̅̾̔̾̓͗̇̄́͒̍̐̔͜͝)”

    His voice sounded like an amalgamation of the strange man’s, the director’s, and (what you assumed to be) the Toymaker’s; the director’s voice seeming more prominent as his mask was the one on display.

        “(W̶̝͕̲̜̤̳̻̪̤͂̔̚͜H̴͈̜̻̠̭̳̓͐̃͑͋͆͋̐̋͒̅͜͝Ë̴̢̛̞̟̠̫͍̜́͗͛̇̈́̃̉̔͗̅Ȑ̴̙̉̀̓̃͒̍̊̎̚̚Ẹ̶̘͉͖̹͈̏̌͋͛̚ ̷͎̫͓͖̼͚̼̞̇̃Ḧ̴̹̜͚̝͎̰̮̥̤͗̒͋̆̆̚͠A̵̡̡͓̗̙͍̩̟͐́͛̐͋͆͒̆̂́̕͠V̸̯͍̦̣̱̭̫͕͖̎̋̿̒̔͊̅̍͆͝E̷̯͇̮̔̉̒̈́ ̵̛̣̰̻̱͖͕̹̥͈̌́͆̍͘Y̷̩̯͔͖̟̳͖͚̭̒Ơ̶̙̈́̎͆̒̑̆̇͑͂̄͝͝Ṵ̴̡̼̺̟̮̭̫̘̯͍̫͙̋̾͌̈́͂̃̽̍̊̐͗̃̚͜ ̵̼̰̺̠̞̠͓̭͋̓͂͑͗ͅͅB̶̡͓̜̬̱͖̫̲̮̦̋̋̎̇̕Ȩ̸̛̛͕̱͚͎̜̥͇̹̻͉͙̾̏͑̌̐̇͒͌̈̔ͅE̷̺͍͙͖͍̥̯̻̲̹͉̯̙̿̍̓̏̿̅̓̍̿̓̚͠N̵͙͓̫̖͆̓̀͊̈́͆̏̐̔͐͛̒?̶̺̤̖͙̭̫͙̤͈̘͖͉̦̗̾̐̋̀̈́́!̴̢̧̰̠͇̖̫̜͎̙̺̲͎͛͘͝)“

    He began to drag himself towards you.

        “(F̴̻̲̈́ͅƠ̴̧̜͚̱̳̱̼͎̮̻̦̠̝̂͊͊͛̂̾͆̚͝Ǫ̷̫͈͎̹̪̻̤̲̲̜̖̮̏̆̃͠L̴̥͇͓͇̖̹̮͚̻͉͈̲͓̄̓̋̚̚̕̚͠I̶͉̳̝͚̥̻̺̜̳͍͑̍̔̐S̷̢̧̠̪̫̻̳̲͙̪̽͒͑̾͂̚̕͠ͅH̶̢̜͎̫̣̠̥͓͌̅ ̵̮̼̘̣̙̼̯͕̱̳̤̃̌̓͗͆̋̀̆̈̕̕C̴̩̤̳̙̤̥͕͖̬͍̻͌̊͘͝H̷̺̙̝̗̭̼̦͖̣̙̰̋̀̽͒Ȋ̸̢̡͖̯̮͙͛̈̎̋͐̊̌̕͠͝L̷̘̥͒̽͛̈́̍̈́̀̆̂͋̃͒̆͠D̴̟̝̟̝͔̮̺͇̓̄̌̚͠!̸̺̩̻͓̝̺̺̭͍̮̻̥͈͆̌̅̈͂̋̄̓͝ ̶̞͙͋͊͂̓͗̕ͅW̷̧̺̲̽̐̓͐̑̎̔̽H̵͓͖̦͉̖̭͇̬̳̞̣̙͗͒͗̏̎͋̇̈́A̴̝̪̭͂̈̃̈́̌̓̐͘͝Ţ̵̮̹͈̝̼̤̲̭̼͇̱̖̆͐̒̎̆͠ ̷̛̪̰̱̯͕̮̳̲͚̈͊͋̀̑̊̌̆͜W̷̳̗̮͖̪͂̆́̀͒͆̈̒̀̚͝ͅȨ̶̻͕͓͖͖̜̭̠̮̺͎͇̮̏̐̈́͋̈̾͂̇͊Ŕ̶̢̺̩̦̤̲̘̠̋͋̉̃̄̚͘͠͠Ȇ̴̡͕̹͚̯̣͕̙̫͚̙̙̹͐̈́̎ ̴̡̡̣͎͙͚͖̯͕͚̘̦̈̑̈́̒̕Y̷͇̟͐̌͒Ǫ̷͔̙̽̌͐̄̋̚Ủ̸͔͗́ ̵̢̮̭̞̹̲̥̩̟͍̣̘̻̃̾̌͋̌̑̃̓͐̎͑̈́͝T̷̮̗̮͙͍̬͉̮͚̍͂͛͆͛̄͐̈̕͘̕̚Ḫ̷̳̱́͂I̸̧̦̼͙͐̃͆̿̽͒͛̅͠ͅN̶͈͍̅͐͌̍ͅĶ̶̨͙͚̭͇͈̦̝̱̮̼͎̓͜͝Į̴̲̲̣̏̿̈͊̆͌̈̏͗͑͑̆͋̊N̵͖͈͕̥̗̪̞̖̞͛͗͗̈́̎̈̿̚͜͜͝G̴̨̢͔̗̗̳̱͖̰̻̖͉͔͓͊͒ͅ?̷̡̺̱͂̊̋̓̆̓̈́̓̓̈́͐̅͠͠!̴͔̃̓́̉͊̎̆͛͊̕͝)”

    You began to inch away from him.

        “(Y̵̧̧̡̥̣̳̘̩͚̰͓͖̥̏O̷̯̩̩̳͉̗̽̇̈́̍͂͌̕̚͝U̴͔̼͔̓̎̏̓̇̑̋̐͘͝ ̷̢̛̼͇͚̦̰̲̮͖͉̰̙̖͉̤̍̍̂̓̊̊͋̽̽͐͌̚̕͘C̸̙̀́̇̔Ơ̷̭̗͚̌̓̽̈́̐̾̔̒̃Ư̷̩͔̬͚̫͙͕͙͇̫̌̃͂̊̑̇͘͜L̷̝̼͓͐̿͗͐͋̔̎͝D̷͕̻͉̐͌͋̌̆͑̕͜'̶̨̢̨̛̞̤̺̪̬͈͇͔̻̻̓̈͌V̶̮̩͎͓͉͍̕͝ͅĘ̵̞̱̟͉̠͓͈͈̈́̔̓̈̐̀̄̍̍̽̂̕ ̵̧͓̜̻̩̪͖͇͇̮̳͕̲̳͑̈́̈́̇̂̽͠G̷͚͕̪̿͠O̴̘̼͐̅͗̏̔̏͘̚̚T̵̥͕̘͓͓͙̩͓̘̟̯̭̼̙͆̆͒͑̓͗̈̾͗̃͋͒̓̚͝T̴̛͕̒̏̊̑̄͋͑̊̐̉̄̚Ë̵̢̛̹́͛̈́̄̇͋̒̃̅͝͝͠N̶̡̙͚̤̬͎̊̓̿̇̍̿̇̍̑͐̚͜ͅ ̵̮̤̔̈̏̀̓̚͝Y̶̞͌Ó̸͍̮̖̱̩̼͓̂̔̀͒͗̿̑͑͗̌̕͝͠͝Ữ̶̬͙̦̂̆̈́̌̈́̽͗͋̒̚͝ͅṞ̵̨̤̜̩̣̟͒̆̅͐̏̆͝S̷̻̘̭̭̔̋́̔̌͌̐͆͂Ē̸̩̮̰̖̜͖̜̞̼̮̙͙̹̈́̾͗͂̉͒̊̍̅̄̊̑̃͜͠L̸̲̣͈̹̔̿̈́̍̊̈́̉̍̓̾̂͌̚͝͝F̷̧̱̰̦̞͈͈̩̦̞͒͒̊̓̐̈̐̉̃͝͝ ̸̨̢͔͚̗̳͙̘̣̦̈́̾̒̀̌͘K̵̝̜̽̓̿́.̶̧̧̠̼̮̠͈͕̦͊̈́̃͒̈́̏.̵̨̹͇̞͎͖͇͕̘́̍͌̎̄͗͗.h̵̳͗h̷̭̩͌̋h̶̡̪̏.̸͉̩̐̽.̵̡̯̓͆.̸̻̝͒͝)”

    His re-hidden maw coughed up more black goop. You inched further away, intent on keeping your distance. His body twitched and convulsed once again, before his mask glitched to that of the Toymaker’s.

        “(W̸̢̠̝̘̣͇̭̻͗́̈́͘̚ͅḦ̵̢̛̫̰͎̥̬̣̞̥̹̪̫͍͉̗́̑̊͋͌͒̉͆̾̅̾͊Y̵̛̬̣͈̣͐͊͐͒̏̔͘͝.̸̧̧͈͎̹̩̺͆̉́̚͘.̷̧̛̙̙̟̻͇̖̭̲̉̅̿͋̏̈́͘͠.̴̢̢̨̥͚̥̝͙͖͚͉͍̣̯̯͗͝ ̴̜̺͍̙̐̒̓̒͋̀͂̐̂̓̓͠͠W̸͎͉͚̮̯͈͓̏̎̋̌͝H̷̡̳̲̺̫͈̙̳͇̤͇͉͚̞ͅY̴̧̫̫̹̜͙̪̎͆̑̒̈̑͝͝ ̴̥̖̄̔̊͊̅̋͒̂̂͘D̴̡̹̯̞̦͔̆̈̐͒͋̕I̸̜͉̅̐̑͋͂̚͝D̷̪͂͑̽̿Ñ̵̻̃̄͛͌̚̕͝'̴̻̯͓̠̲̠̰̞̜̘͖̹̤̈̿͛̈́̔̆T̵̡̰̩̳͔̰̲̝̑͛̇̀͆͛͐̌̒͐͌̃̕͝ ̸̡̛͍̺͓̗͖̯̮̦̤̂̒̐̂͆͜ͅY̶͉̺̱̙̙͕̍͆̿̕O̶̠̰̎̆̇̑̔͂̇̽̑̂̾͌͘͝Ư̷̛̮͚͕͙̞̪̙͕̅̃̓̊̿̓̀́̀͜͝͠.̸̤̞̱͊̾̌̐͘.̴͕͉̥͍͖̗̓̎́̏͜.̷͉͖̝͇̜̟͈̮͉̫̐̋͐́̈́̉̈́͋̍ ̵̳͂̈́͌̇̇̽̈W̶̨̼͎̬͉̞͇̫͇̜̔̔͝Ḣ̵͖͓̫͔͎̫͖̭̭̰͋̉̓̆̾̾͛̔̔͘͝ͅY̵̳͖͕̲̦͎͋̉̾̐͘͜.̴̧̧̜̞͎͔̟́̾̒̑̍̀̊̄͒̉͘̕͝.̶̛͍͖̉͗͗̓̓̽͐̓̾̚͝.̷̧̰̭͓͕͔̦̼͎̦̻̻͖̣́̆̈́̏̃̄̈́͗̓̆̕͠ ̵̢̩̻͇̖̇W̵̥̹͉͕͗͋͒͛̄̄̐̊͊Ö̷̦͕́N̵̢̡͔̯̞̲̘͖̭̗͍̮̝̺͂̉̔͂̊̓͊͂̋̏͌̅͘͝'̸̛͍̖̜̙͇̥͈̭̉͛́̒̈͘͠͠T̶̪̠̬̈́̿͋̋̈́̊̑̊͌͠.̵̡̢̧̛̙͇̱̭̥̉͌̄̿̑̓̾͂̐͆̏̈́͝͠.̷̨̖͕͕̘̀̌̾̄.̶͉͍͌͘ ̸̫̙̼̪̪͉͍͕̰̖̠̺̹͛̅̿̇͗̏̃̇̂̅̀̚͘͠Ẏ̷͉̪͍̬̥͈̟̓̽̓̓̌̈́͠͠O̷̡̭̤͖̤̻̯̜͙̗̬͑̏̊͗͑̀̉̌̚͠ͅU̵̧̡͔̱̣̎̓́̂͝.̵̧̯̳͖̱̟͈̪̬͉̑͋͌͛̀͐̋̆̀͝ͅ.̸̧̛̯̹̘͎̬̲̺̼͚͍̬͌̒͋̐̎͠.̷̢̦̯͚̗̣͚̹̮̽͋̑̽͜)”

    More black goop was coughed up.

        “(Ţ̵̨̢̡̡̛͚̻̱͇͚͎̤͇̄̒͊̆̋͊̈́̄͊̊̚͝A̵̡̛̱̞̞̠̙̣̹͕̩͎̬̅̿̌̂̌̈́̉̊͘͜L̸̻̩͚͇͕͇͈͎͙̦͚͕̪̘̰͛K̵̨͍̦̰̖̝̹̮̫͖̈́̚.̷̡̛̺̬͋͌̄̓͂̈̃̏͐͜͠.̷̨̞̗̝͙̘̭͐.̵͇͕͖͇̰͚͋ ̴̡͚̱͒̎̈́̂̑̇̿̂̓̓͜͝ͅT̷̢̞͚͍͑͐̽͒̉̂̍͑̄͠Ơ̶̩̱̗̎͂̋̐.̸͍͖͕͇̻̣͔̗̌͑́̈͐̃̇̔͝ͅ.̶̢̞̊͑͛̑̂̈́̓́̌̐̓̕͝͠ͅ.̶͔͇͇̜̦͗̿̋̈́͜ ̵̧̹̥̭͍̝̘̥̹̰̽̀̈́̑̄͌͗̑͂͗͝͝M̶̢̢̞̜̻̼͍̲͍̔̀̈̇̊͜Ē̵̢̛̦̝̙̹͒̍͆̊̚̕͠.̵͎̘̉̓̐͋̎͒̇̍͑͒͝.̸̜͓͚͈̙̭̄.̷̧̨̫̦͖̙̺͙͔͓͊̔?̸̤̘̥̞͙̅̈̓̽̈̓)”

    He stopped to let out another inhuman sob, coughing up even more of that black goop, stopping to catch his breath for a moment.

        “(W̶̧̦̲̪̯̬̥͓̭̰͉̝̭̅̍̽͐͆̑̀͝͝ͅH̵̛̙̬͕̆̍̂̇̿A̸͓̭̾̀͌͋͑̽T̸͕̫͉̜̼͙͍͇̽͝'̸͎̙̽̌Ŝ̶͖̫̰͚̮̳̘͚̽̔̊̾̐̈́̋͝͝͝.̷͇͙͍̝̯͇̯͖̺̰̫̩͔̤̿̂.̵͓͉͈̙̗̹̬͔͎̒̌̐̽͒̍̄̕.̷̠̭̟̺̯̾ ̵̨̹̜̦̳͍̙̰͔͈̤̥̰͈̇̎͌͑̄̂̍̿͊̈́̽͘W̶͕͍̱̺̰͛̂̇͒̑͊͂̔͊̄͝R̶̡̡͇̭̜̠̰̯̲̗͋̿͗̏̂͗̍͐̊̽̃͑͑̄͘͜ͅŎ̸̧̼̠̻̦͔͂̂́̈́̍Ṋ̶͙̗̮͚͙͂͒̌͗̊̀̈́̍͝͝͝G̸̢̛̥̤͚̯̤̙̩̈́̈̈́͗͋̋͝.̴̢̦͕̠̘̳͖͖̀̇͛͐͑̋͐̔͆͛͐̄͝͝ͅ.̴̡̡̩̫̩̤̤̝̰̟͖̓͂̀̎̓̔̑̇͂̓̍.̴̢̠̪̜̬͔͉̒͊̌͗́̈́́̕͜͝ ̵͎̫̥̙̙̯̈́̾̊̕ͅĻ̵̢̧̢͙̫̮̟͇̪̓̇̾̂͐͘͝I̵̺͒̐͑̅̓͐̌̈́̾̅͝͝Ṱ̵̭̹̘̼̞̦̘͚͚̩̯̖͊̓̊̈̑͛̊̔͝T̸̢̼̦̤̉́̈̅̓͗̀͆̆̓͠Ĺ̴̛͓͓͋̀̽͌̒̄͂̕̕͝Ę̴̧̳͉͇͉̰̹̮̣͕̦̣̥̥́͒́̽̎̑͝.̷̣̞̻̭͋̈̑̈́̾͂̊͂͗̕.̸̢̜̟͎̿͗.̷̛̠̓͗̽̿̋̈́͆̎͒̌̐͗ ̶̱̣̞͔̠͕̠̯̞̦̩̐̿̇̋͂͐͗͂͐͘Ḑ̵̺̜̣̝͚͑̈͛̑͂O̷̡̟͇̩͊L̸̡̛̝̺͖̘̱̼̤̰̠͕̫̘̝̿͜Ļ̷̛͒̊̊͐̅̂͂̌̀͝?̴̼̘̒͋͠͝ ̴̛͙͎͛͊̀͛̉̃̀D̶̡̧͚̥͍̘̫͎͙̭̓̽̌͛͒͊̕͘͜Ō̶̪͈̖̩̗̮̳̳̬͎̭.̷̤͙̟͈̻̲̜͇̞̗̱̐̂̂̏͌̒̅͒͋̆̚.̷̯̩̤̱̋̒̅̈́̀̃̽͌͂͒̽̎͝͝.̶̨̢̪̯̹̝̤̲̥̘͍̰̺̜̽̃͐̽̌͐̌́̓ ̵̫̖͈̙̝͔̘̞͚̳͊̓͌̅̽͘̚͘͠Y̴̛̺̬͍͗̃̀̒̅̎̏̚͝O̴̱͈̗̝̹̲̤͕͇̞̓̋̽̓̽̅́̏͌͘̕͠Ṵ̶̗̈́̓̽̉̃́̒̓͌̉̀͘͝.̴̨̹̫͓̣̉̐̔̄.̴̨̛͔̋̽͐͊̔̔̎̎͒͛͐̄͝.̷̟̮̰̼̝̣̦͓̲̬̾ ̸̨̞͈̩̦̰̤̞̭̞̊͜N̴̨͓̗͇̻̹̗̞͎̑͌̚͜Ȩ̶̯̜̞̗̪̈́̂͑̑E̶͕̲̟͓͛͐̋̅̈́͗D̴̨͈̹̞̭̩̪͉͍̩͓͎̟̩̼̓͊̋.̵̡̢̲͍̤̻͕̥̠̣̝͊̈́.̴̧͈͇̳̫̼̞̤͎͍̲̦̊̔̽͗͑̑̄̃̈́̏̿͆͋͜.̵̧̛͚̰͂̊̍͂́̎̉̂͒͘͝͝ ̷̩̈̌̊͒̊̓͆̏̍̔̕̕͠T̶̢̛͔̓̍̈̈́̊͊̈́̊̉̂̐͘͘͜Ǫ̴̧̨̘̱̝̙̟̮͔̭̻͒̅̋͊͋̄̾͒̚ͅ ̷̺̝̥̼̳̱̺̬̿̏͋̈́̀̋͛̓̒͛̽̂B̷̡̘͖͔̻̖̭͌̂͛Ȩ̷̨̢̦͓̬̘̮̱͕̘̳͉̠̜͌.̷̢̤̣̪͔̳̠͖̖͚̬̳̟̦̌͊̊.̷̛̝̝̟̱̑̉͌̿͒̀͑̎͒͜͠͝.̵̨̩̱͔͔̤͍̫͍̘̼̗̞̽̓͘ͅ ̸̡̢͚̩͕̞̘͇͇̜̹̮̝̃̄̽̈́̋̏̕͜͠͝ͅF̸̢̛̻̂͐̔̓̄̿͝Ị̸̢̢̛̛̙̣̝̥͉̘̤̀̃͂̔͑̂̚͜X̵̢̲̥̜̫̰̰̀̈́̆̏̐͐̐͋͊͛E̶̡͎̰̙̙̝̣̲͈̍D̵̡͖̝̼͇̪̳͚̮̝͈̝̉͂̋̃̈́͂̑̾̐͋͘͝͝.̸̝͉͓̝͋̋.̸̣̦̱̞̻̞̺̖̯̦̖̮̞͌̈́̍͆͑̌́̉̈̎͝.̴̡̡̼̣̖̲̫̮̭̪̹̌̑̊̒̕͜?̶̢̛̙̝̼̺̮͈̐̌̒̆̓̌̈̓̃̃̚͘ͅͅ)”

    Trying to comprehend his words was starting to hurt now.

        “(C̶͔̥̩͉̮̯̺̥̭͙͒̒̂̇̔̔̈̋̾̓̇͊̑͐ͅỌ̴̧̪̼̩͇͉̞̭̥͙̬̻̅̈͋̀̉̌̓͒͂͘̕̚̕͝ͅM̷̡̛͕͕͎̠̫̠̮̲͜Ḛ̸̬͎̿̉̓̈́̅̐.̵̬̼̙̔͆̈́͝.̵̛͈̞͔̱̹̺̓̆̈́̆̍̾͑̏̽͂̎̋̅̕.̶̹̳̌ ̵̻̪̓͌̀Ç̷̥͙̤̦̱̳̝̺̍̆͑̀́̾̄͐̀̋̊̕ͅĻ̵̠͙̞̏Ơ̷̧̢̻̳͈͇͈̮͎̾̑Ś̸̢̡̛̙̰͎̩̫̟̳̭͎͙͖̩̓͛̂͐͆̿̈̅̎̚̚Ę̵͚͎͍̺̪͙̉́͜Ŗ̵̩̩̱̼̣͔͚̰͓̖͖̫͆̃͜.̶̡̢̡̨̥̖̥͔͔̠̣̖̖͚̒̋͑̍͜.̶̛̱̉̈́͊̋̈́̊̊͐͋̌̉̚.̴̭̜̠̬̦̘̲̬̭̍̽͐̅̒̒͠͠ ̵̛̹̘̭̠͎̮̳̟̤͗̊̍͗̐̊̍̕L̵̡̧͕̫̬̫̟͙̝̳͕̭̓͑̎̈́͑̆̿̐̐͠͝ͅĘ̷͎͚̖̹̪̣̭͖̲̙̬͓̭͔͌͆̊̐̈͝T̷̡̧̞̫̥͖̺̯̏̊̇͒̉̾̽͋͗͂̉̑̚̚.̶̧̨̥̮̫̟͔̦̬̝̟͓̺̘͇̓̊͑͘͝͠.̶̧̾͆̀͒͋̎̀̄̈͂.̸̤̗̞̳̏͒̂ ̸͙͇̼̜̝͎̍͗̋ͅM̴̪̝͙̼̥͍̺̹̼̪̠͊̄̽Ė̴̛͖̟͈͖̟̫̻̬̯͙͕͎̉͒̏̆͆̒̒̎̊͒͝ͅ.̴̡̻͚̽̇̓̌̈́ͅ.̴̨̨̛͓̮̫̟̮̟̹̩͙͊̂̃͌͗̒͗̓̃͜͠͝.̸̧̝͖̬̰̫͕͖̞̠̐̂̈́͐́̾͊̉͐̚͝ͅ ̸̨̦̰̝̥̗̟̽̍̓̈̑͑̑͘͝͠S̸̨͔̔͆̽̓̔̇͒E̵̙̣̟̜̓̋͠E̸͔͖̒̃̈͊̾̐̆̅̒̈́̀̓̚͝͠ͅ.̴̞͎̹͕̥̅́̓̌͆̽̂͠.̶̼̣͙̲̠̤̺̲̝̄̍̈̚͠ͅ.̷̢̞̺̣͔̰̜͔̈́͜͝)”

    He began to reach toward you.

    That reawakened energy you felt in that mirror-world suddenly returned, coursing through your frame.

    As if by instinct, you thrusted your hand out.

    Ping!

    His SOUL, glitching with corruption, turned blue.

    Fwoosh!

    He was sent back a few feet by an invisible force, causing him to splatter bits of black goop. As he sat pinned against the side of the stage, his mask glitched back to the original smiling one.

        “(Í̴̻̲͓̙̱͐̂̆͗̒̂͗͊̌̆̄̎͗ ̶̣̔̾̄͐̐H̸̼̭̙̥͔̹̐̕A̸̝̯̮̣̩̱̠͐̒̊̾̃̒̒̈́̏V̵͉̖̽̓̐E̵͈̹̮͙͖̘̝͖̭̳͇̊̓́̈́̏͊̅̉̄̽̈͠ ̸͙̣͙͔̥͍̭̠͔͉̏̋ͅÃ̸̧̛̲͉̣̋͌̉̓̈́͠Ḯ̶̧̛̛̦̩̩̳̤̗̖͍̹̙̅̔̍͒̿̕͝D̵̝̮̞͔͇͎̝̈́͠E̴̢̟̱͓̺̩̘̪̹̮̖̜̪̽́̆͗͋̀̒̕͜ͅD̴̛͇̘̹͍͇͂̆̍̑̿̇̆̈́̊ ̸̨̩̫̫̜̗̮̹͎͌͛̑̈́͛͛ͅỶ̶͙̫̪̝̓̓̒̉̈́̆͊̉̋̍͠O̵̳͚̜̰̭̥̱̰͖̭̫̗̕Ų̸͕͎͔̬̯̦͇̃̐̎ ̴̗͕͍͎͔̳̭̀͌̋͐̔́̍̔͆̀͘T̶̜̩̘̮͔̖̊̂̈H̴̱̱̖̲͎͍̹̯̝͔̽̑̎͜͜U̴̞S̵͈̩̑͑̿̀̈͌ ̶̡̧̨̧̪͔̥̙̭̣̙̰̺̀̀̿̈́̌͘͘͝F̴̡̙̥͔̲̝͈̝̣̱͋͛̽̓̄́̒̄͠͝͠Ȃ̷͎̋̉R̷͍̟̮͈̭̺̐̅̐̿̉̊͒̎̅̾̓͘͜,̴̢̢̯̞͖͇͕͉̬͇̭̖̹͕̝̆̈̎̈́̋̿ ̷̙̰̭̗̘̆̈́̄͂̓Y̴̡̭̰̦͇͔͍̳̯̪̪̌̎͑̏̕E̵̢̮̞͖̹̩̺̼͇̰̅̓͊̽̂̂̀̆͆̇̈́̎͘͝T̴̨͈͕̖̹̯͈̮̪̥̙̙̘̹̒̿͂͛̈́͋͌̑͜ ̸̣̹̦̙̬̬̣̕ͅͅY̴̨̛̼͆̔̈́̔̇͛̐͠O̸̡̦̩̩̥̗̩͛͑̔͂̇̓͋ͅU̵͍͍̖̭̳͚̹͎̺͇̗̱̘͇͌͂̎̽̓͘͝ ̸̙̪̓͂̊̌̈́͗R̴̡̩͖̩̟̗̲̣͎̆͑͐͒Ȕ̵͈̘͙͚̲̠N̵̩̘̉̊̅̒̇͌͊͠ ̴̼̝͖̺̃F̶̡̤͚̜̈́͐͑Ŗ̸̰̲̠̥̦̣̲̲̞̦̘͛̏͛͂̀̿̑̓͋̓́̚͜͜͝Ơ̵̤̊̄̉̐̒̍͋̊̈́̕͠M̶̬̒̊̓̽̏̅͒͊̕͜ ̸̢̢̲̭͓̥̟̗̜͈̭͕̐̍̈́͘M̸̧̧̙̘̤̱̠̮̖̤̑̄͒͜E̵͙̯̮̻̪̳͖̓̾̾̾̒̌͝.̴̧̢͚̯͎͕͔͍̙͇̮̝̼̊̑̆̂̓̄̉̆̂̉̽͆̿̕̕͜ͅ ̶̠͔̫̼̘̳͉̘͉̥̽ͅD̸̛̖̥̦͌̉Ǫ̸̛͉͓̫̻̜̎̌̔͌͂͊͑̃͒͘͝ ̸̗̹̭̦̠̾̿̎̌̈́͂̑̂Ỵ̷̡̛̪͖̣͒͋͑̈́̽Ȍ̷̪͎̔̉̃̒͊̿̄̏U̴̡̼̤̫̹͐̉̅̚ ̴̨̯̎́̊͒͐͒̊̚͠T̶̠̦̤͖̭͉̋͒̂̅̽̓͋̿̓̏H̸͎̦͉͚̝͚̺͚̤͕̿̇͜͜I̷̧͔̩̣̻̽̾̂̽̊̔̌͘̚N̸̲̼͒̓̍̈́̈̉K̷̡̛̩̅̍̐́͌̃ ̴̨̮̥̣̯̝͕̍̐̊̊͂̓͂͝I̷̢̲̘̰̠̺̭͚͎̲̜͛͘'̵̖̪̦̫̰̘̲̅͆̇̊͌̋̕͝M̵̨̡̤̱͎̥̙̱̈̓͌̂ͅ ̴̯̬͗͑̎T̴̨̪͕͇̹͚̲̺̥͔͑R̶̢̨̝̫̺̭̝̃͆͌̽̚̚ͅỴ̶̘̥̺͔̩͙̱̲̮̰͖̅̾̌͝I̸̡̢̢͔͈̦̼̯̻̗̤̭͇̅̽̍̏̓͛͊̋͋͋͠͝ͅN̴̙̖̝̥̺̘̈̏̄̓̒̌͜Ģ̷̧̨͖͙͖̙̭̩̺̓̿̈́̃̐ ̸̧̝͍̼͇̝̯̙̉̿͋̉͗͆͋͝T̵̢̪̩̠̼̻̹̪̮͚̪̆͐̔͊͛̕͠͝Ó̴̲̠͙̝̙̪ ̵̡͕͖̖̞̝͙̓T̶̛̛͚͇̟͋͌̈́̇͘R̸̫̟̻͙̩̦̱͚̻͎̤̯̩̖͗̒̎͒͆͑͋͜I̸̘̣͎̖͎͉̬̦̝̒̂Ç̴̡̛̲̙̗̲̘̱̥̳̭͔͚̳̻̑̆̂̈́̍̽K̴̛̲̯͔̬͓̜̳̘̬͉̅̑̈́̆̈́̅̄͜͜͝ͅ ̷̢̢̣̗͉̗͉̬̲̤̍̓͛̄̏͐͜͝Y̶̡͙̦̬̯̱̫̰̦͐̊̅̊͛͋͑̃̃̕͜͝Ơ̴̧̘̤̫̘͙͛̂̀̑̃̈́̔̈̕̚Ự̵̖̆͑̽̋̓̄̕͘͘͝?̴͎́͐̐́̑̈́͌̑)”

    You quietly gulped, refusing to answer. A sharp pain began to twinge through your broken eyesocket, causing your “hold” on his SOUL to slip.

        “(A̵̬̹̻̪̰̲̥̓̄̓̐̉̓̈́̾̊̚͠Ŗ̶̩̙̫̤͓̩̠͙͓̻̖̳͎̿̉͊̈̆̓͝Ȋ̵̡͖̤̲̹̮͖̝̥͈̪̝͍̥̔͜Ą̴̨͈̰̜͔̺̜̘̈́̔͆́̄͆͜L̸̨̗̻̺̻͔̘̺̦̏͐̑̀̈̈́̒͘͝?̷̡̡̨̨̠̩̟̭̯̭̻̪̳͓̆͂̆̂͊͆́͊͆̓̊͘͝)”

    The pain started to become distracting.

        “(S̴̜͕͇̠͋̑̇͊͐͠Ţ̸͛̉́͆́̐̐̃̉͂͋͝͠Ơ̵̢̬̟̖͙̭̲̟͉͚͔̔͂̈́̄͛̓̾̊͌̚͘͝P̶̧̰͖̼͔̦̹̞̋̑͆͂̓̀ͅ!̶̧̛̛̲̠̮̬̫̰̻͉̥͗̓͗͛̅̑͗̌̔̓̚)”

The shadows began to stretch further.

        “(Y̸̡̖͖͍͙̲͖̫̙̒̓̓̏́̍̈́́̂̚͜͠͠O̷̡̹̝̪͔͚͖̺͙̼͓͇̯̗̪͐̅͐̏͆͆͘Ŭ̵̱̮̭̮̞̦̻̙̘̟̟̜̜̆̀̾̈́̈̋͂͊͘͝͝'̸̧̛͚̠̘͔̃̅̆̋̄̄͛̒̉͛̃R̸̺̜̈̽̑̆̋̕͝Ę̷̛͉͇͚͍̞̗̘̉̀͆͘͝ ̷͖̼̝̭͓̥͉͗̌͐̍́̽̀͑̕̕͝ͅĢ̸̡̡̛͓̯̰̞̰̖̟́̐̈́̇̑̋͊͛̔͘O̴̻͚͇͑̓̐̌̕I̶̮̮͌̅́͘N̴̹̪̟͇̜̼͒͊̅́̇̐͌̓͗̉̿̽͝G̵̳̤̭̳̬͈̺̓̈̏͒̌̓̈́̏͂̽̈́͆͛͝ͅ ̷̞̭͇͐͂ͅT̷̢̧̥̫͈̦͍̞̙͙̱̈́̏̋͌͌͋͐̂̍̋̒̔̈͜O̴̠͚̍̓̽̌̽ ̵̢̪͎̳̮͈̣͖̦̾H̶̨̨͓̮͓̙͈͔͉̞̺͍̠̀Ǘ̶̳̱͇̩̻̭̭͈͇̊R̴̼̩̖̬̈́̓̎ͅT̷̟ ̸͎̣̖̹͎̬̟̮͂̑̽̆̈́̍̍͌̈̂̇͊̉̓͜͝ͅY̴̨̩̟̤̹̯̟̦̺͖̜̟͑̊̃̆̚͝O̸̜͍̮͑̽͂͌͛̑̿͊̈́̃̏͘͠U̷̼̅̾̕R̵̛̪̱̦̰̍͋̾̀̒̿̐͑̀̓̓̏̕Ş̴̨̺̯̦̠̖̻̰͈͕̌ͅĘ̶̨͓̽̑̏͊̐͒̐̃͊̆L̴̢̨̨̛̠͎̲͓͖͙̳̃̔͒́F̷͇̬̈̉̽̌͂!̶̧̥̤͍͎̟͛̔͂̈̈́̌͘͝)”

The pain started to become excruciating.

        “(S̵̢̨̺̬̙͉̲̥͉̳͛̀͐̃͒͜͝͝͝ͅͅT̸̨̡̻̭͇̪̈́̓́͌͗͑͒͐̏͌̕͠Ő̶̜̠̩̱̒͌̈́͛͌ͅP̷̨̛͎̙͙͉̲͍̒̈́̉̾̀̄̽̐͆̄͆͘͝ͅ ̸̢̧͙̙̺̲̗̾̆͘͘ͅI̵̧̨̡̠͙͖͌T̷̻̩͎͚̻͉̠͒͌͋̀!̸̢̯͈̳͚̺͙̠̓̌̑̅̐̎̋͘͘͝!̴̢͖̼͇̫̎͐̔̿̃̓̈́̎͌̕͜͝!̸̛͎̭̟̱̼͒̔͒̈͊͌͊̏͌̽͘͠)”

    You finally collapse onto your knees, hand covering over the area of your broken eyesocket. The lantern flickered as you dropped it on its side with a thud. The bird tweeted in alarm as it jumped to flutter in midair.

    Consequentially, the release of your “hold” on the dark entity’s SOUL, released him.

    Upon being freed, he began to drag himself back down the aisle toward you. But before he could reach you, you jerked into a backpedalling position, blindly thrusting your hand out once again. A row of tall, bone-shaped bullets with a pinkish aura sprang up between you, blocking him off.

        “Stay away! Don’t touch me!”

    He simply sat there, appearing confused. He looked down at the row of bones before him, then back at you.

        “(A̶r̸i̷a̸l̴.̶.̶.̶ ̷y̸o̸u̴.̶.̸.̷ ̷y̷o̵u̶ ̸e̶v̷e̸n̶ ̴r̴e̶m̶e̵m̷b̵e̸r̷ ̷h̸o̷w̷ ̴t̵o̴.̴.̸.̶?̷)”

    His voice seemed a bit different now. You heard only one voice, though layered enough to still sound inhuman. It didn't hurt as much to comprehend his words anymore. As he continued to speak, you could hear his tone falter.

        “(T̶h̴e̶n̵ ̵w̶h̸y̷ ̶w̸o̶n̴'̶t̴ ̸y̴o̸u̸.̸.̵.̵ ̸r̸e̶m̸e̷m̶b̷e̸r̵ ̸u̵s̴.̷.̴.̴?̶)”

    He lifted a hand toward you, seeming quite upset about the situation.

       “(A̷r̸i̸a̴l̴…̸ ̴w̶h̸a̶t̸ ̵h̷a̵p̸p̶e̸n̵e̶d̸ ̸t̴o̸ ̴y̸o̸u̵…̴?̵)”

    As you listened to his words, you stood up, growing frustrated.

        "What... what are you talking about? How do you know who I am? Why are you all keeping me trapped here against my will? I just want to be done with the day and go home!"

    His demeanor saddened more.

        "(B̷u̷t̸.̴.̴.̷ ̴t̸h̵i̴s̸ ̷i̷s̶ ̵y̵o̸u̷r̵ ̷h̶o̷m̸e̷.̸)"

    You clenched your fists.

        "No it isn't! And even if it was, it isn't anymore!"

    He lowered his hand, tilting his head.

        "(T̸h̸e̷n̶ ̵w̵h̸y̸ ̵d̸i̸d̶ ̴y̵o̷u̵ ̶c̷o̵m̵e̷ ̸h̵e̸r̷e̵?̴)"

    You clenched your fists tighter.

        "Because some brat stole my pearls and led me astray into this hellhole!"

    His head straightened as his demeanor became more calm.

        "(B̶u̶t̷ ̴i̸s̵ ̴s̷h̵e̷ ̵n̸a̶u̵g̸h̶t̴ ̸b̷u̶t̶ ̵a̴ ̸f̵i̷g̴m̷e̸n̸t̷ ̶o̶f̵ ̷y̷o̴u̴r̵ ̶o̷w̵n̶ ̷i̷m̵a̸g̶i̷n̸a̶t̸i̵o̶n̷?̴ ̶A̵ ̴k̸e̸y̸ ̴p̸i̸e̷c̸e̷ ̵o̴f̷ ̴t̷h̸e̸ ̴l̷i̸f̵e̷ ̶y̸o̷u̶ ̴l̷e̶f̷t̵ ̶b̵e̴h̵i̵n̷d̷?̷ ̴S̸u̸r̶e̶l̴y̵ ̶y̵o̸u̸ ̶c̴a̵n̵'̵t̷ ̴b̴e̷ ̸i̸n̴ ̷t̷w̷o̴ ̵p̸l̷a̷c̷e̴s̴ ̸a̵t̴ ̷o̴n̷c̸e̸,̷ ̶m̵y̸ ̸d̴e̸a̶r̵.̷)"

    You scoffed.

        "So? That doesn't give you the right to keep me trapped in this place! I got what I came for, now let me go!"

    He faltered.

        "(B̶u̵t̶.̴.̸.̶ ̴w̷e̵ ̵n̵e̸e̶d̵ ̵y̴o̴u̷ ̸t̶o̵ ̵r̸e̴m̴e̷m̸b̵e̷r̶.̴)"

    His words eradicated your patience.

        "Remember what?! I don't even know who you are!"

    There was no answer from him this time. It seemed you had struck a nerve. You watched as he silently gazed down at the row of bones separating him from you. After a moment, he proceeded to sweep them away, letting out a cry of pain as he did so. You watched as he doubled over for a few moments, letting out gurgled, labored wheezing, before dematerializing into a giant puddle of black goop that launched itself down the aisle.

    Fearing that you've angered him, you scooped the bird into your hands and made a run for the exit. But the darkness quickly caught up to you, crushing the lantern under its weight in the process. Blinded by the lack of light, you quickly found yourself shielding the bird as the mass overwhelmed you and swept you up into its engulfing clutches. Letting out a cry of alarm, you struggled and squirmed as the being's form rematerialized, and you found yourself trapped within the embrace of this masked wraith. You gasped for air, finding it hard to move or breathe.

        "(B̷e̵ ̸s̵t̶i̶l̷l̸,̸ ̴c̵h̷i̵l̴d̶.̵ ̸Y̶o̵u̶ ̸a̴r̶e̴ ̸i̸n̵ ̷n̶o̴ ̴d̴a̷n̴g̸e̸r̵.̶)"

    His voice, as inhuman as it sounded, was soft and calm. In spite of your stubborn resistance, he showed no hostility, nor was he hurting you. It was enough to ease your struggle, albeit tentatively. In the pitch-black darkness, you couldn't see a thing, only feel the sensation of the bird fidgeting in your hands; your captor holding you cocooned in his arms as if you were a frightened toddler during a bedtime thunderstorm. Amidst the melding of smooth fabric and amorphous consistency, you felt the pressure of a solid frame deep within his form.

        "(S̴h̶h̷h̷.̵.̶.̴ ̶s̴h̶h̴h̸.̴.̵.̵)"

    A large hand gently stroked the back of your cranial region. Perhaps it was your weary mind playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn the hand felt... skeletal, with what felt like a hole cut through the middle of the palm. It roused a feeling that you couldn't quite describe. As he continued holding you, his overwhelming aura of shadows lessened. It was easier to breathe now, though there was still difficulty in free movement due to the firmness of his hold. It wasn't tight enough to cause pain or discomfort, but not loose enough to allow you to run away, either. He seemed really fearful of "losing" you again.

    Your cheekbone pressed against his chest as you began to feel a ghostly warmth radiating from him; breathing in a vaguely familiar scent. It was strangely comforting. Sensing no hostile or malicious intent, you finally allowed yourself to relax. The bird didn't seem to sense any danger, either, as you could feel it nestling within your hands. As you and your little friend's consciousnesses began to drift, you could feel and hear the breathing of this shadowy apparition begin to grow unsteady with emotion.

        "(Y̷o̸u̶ ̷a̴r̷e̸ ̴n̴o̸t̶ ̵t̶h̵e̸ ̷o̴n̶l̸y̶ ̷o̴n̸e̶ ̶w̶h̶o̸ ̴i̴s̸ ̸t̶r̴a̴p̵p̴e̷d̸ ̵h̸e̸r̴e̵.̶ ̵T̴r̴u̵t̴h̸ ̴b̸e̶ ̶t̴o̶l̶d̷,̷ ̵n̴o̵n̴e̷ ̴o̴f̵ ̸u̸s̶ ̴a̸r̶e̸ ̷s̵u̵p̶p̷o̸s̵e̸d̴ ̷t̸o̷ ̵b̴e̵ ̷h̷e̷r̷e̴.̶ ̴W̴e̸ ̶s̷h̵o̷u̷l̶d̷ ̸h̷a̸v̵e̶ ̶p̷a̶s̵s̵e̶d̷ ̷o̸n̵ ̷t̶o̵ ̸t̷h̵e̸ ̴n̷e̵x̸t̶ ̷w̷o̴r̸l̸d̴ ̷a̴ ̷l̸o̴n̴g̶ ̴t̵i̴m̴e̷ ̷a̶g̵o̷.̸)"

    He paused for a moment.

        "(.̴.̷.̵B̷u̶t̶ ̴s̶o̴m̵e̵t̴h̴i̴n̴g̵ ̶b̷r̶o̸u̴g̷h̸t̶ ̶u̵s̸ ̸b̸a̵c̵k̴.̶)"

    He took a deep breath.

        "(A̵h̷.̶.̸.̸ ̴y̶o̶u̷'̸v̴e̴ ̷b̸e̶e̶n̵ ̸t̵h̷e̷r̸e̸,̵ ̶h̸a̸v̷e̵n̵'̸t̵ ̷y̶o̸u̴?̸)"

    His grip began to tremble.

        “(T̴h̶e̷n̸ ̷p̷l̸e̴a̵s̶e̶.̵.̷.̴ ̵I̷ ̶b̷e̴s̸e̶e̸c̶h̵ ̵y̴o̶u̵.̴.̸.̴ ̵h̴a̷v̷e̵ ̶m̸e̸r̶c̵y̷ ̴o̶n̷ ̸u̷s̴.̶.̶.̶)”

    He pressed his masked cheek against the top of your cranium.

        "(P̸l̵e̸a̶s̸e̶.̵.̸.̵ ̶p̵l̴e̷a̴s̵e̴.̸.̶.̷ ̵h̵a̸v̷e̸ ̸m̵e̴r̵c̸y̷.̷.̵.̴)"

    Those last few words struck you as odd, but still didn't stop your thoughts from drifting further and further apart. You sensed the shadows peeling and shrinking away, allowing the light to return.

    Then, soon after, you passed out.

    In the white void of your consciousness, you heard the strange man's voice, back to normal.

        "(...Arial, do you remember yet?)"
        "(...No?)"
        "(Here, let's try again...)"
        “(...One last time.)"

        "Arial."

    You stirred as a familiar voice called out to you.

        "Arial!"

    You felt something--or rather, several somethings--sniffing all over you.

        "Arial, w-wake up!"

    You finally jolt awake to find yourself laying curled up on your side, in a familiar yellow-hued area, to "Picture Kid" and their dog-thing standing in front of you. Your little bird friend was there as well, perched on top of the blind monster's head, tweeting happily in greeting.

        "Oh! Thank g-goodness! Are y-you okay?" asked "Picture Kid", upon witnessing your arousal from slumber.

        "Nnngh..."
        You groggily sat up.
        "What... what happened...?"

    "Picture Kid" exchanged a look with the bird, already prompting your concern.

        "...Y-You broke the loop." they replied.

        You blinked.
        "W-What...? It was a loop?"

        "Uh-huh." they replied with a nod, "Mr. W-Wingdings created it, mainly t-to encourage you to k-keep progressing through the p-play."

        "How?" you asked.

        "Through seeing wh-what would happen when you s-say either 'yes' or 'no' in each p-part." they replied.

    Huh. Guess you got that right after all. Exhausting the dialogue did seem to be the only way you progressed further through the show. Of course, it always had to end before the third act because that one staff member lost the rest of the script.

        "But how exactly did I break this loop?"

        "...You l-left the attic without a-asking." they replied, "Mr. W-Wingdings noticed you were t-taking a while to get in the ticket b-booth, so he went l-looking for you, and..."

        They trailed off for a moment.
        Oh boy, here we go.

        "...He found a b-broken lockpick out here by the d-door." they finished.

        You went dead-eyed.
        "Broken... lockpick?"

        They nodded.

        "Ugh..." you sighed as you rubbed your bony temples.

        "Wh-Why did you d-do that?" they asked, "He was r-really worried, you know. He was in a l-lot of pain, too."

        "Well..." you began, "I found the lockpick in the 'secret space' up those stairs in the lobby, and it led me to find the last of those 'arcane keys' hiding around the property, and they took me to some kind of mirror-portal to some kind of alternate dimension where I found all these--"

        "Wait." they interrupted, "You m-mean in that space u-under the kitchen s-sink?"

        "Yeah...?"

        Their expression lifted.
        "Oh! Th-That place! Did it h-help at all?"

        "Eh... sort of? I'm still having trouble... 'remembering', though."

        "Picture Kid" lowered their head in thought for a moment.
        "...W-Well, since you're back, m-maybe you can help finish the p-play?"

        You shrugged.
        "Might as well."

        "Then l-let's go. Everyone's w-waiting inside." they said.

    With that, "Picture Kid" and their dog-thing returned to the lobby. You stood up as the bird fluttered off of the little grey monster's head and back to your shoulder.

        "Let's go, Little Birdie."

    As you began to make your way down to get the bouquet of roses needed to trade for the Nutcracker's ticket, you noticed that the casket marked "Wingdings" was leaking with that familiar black substance. Curious, you went over to investigate further; reaching down to gently poke it. It reacted to your touch, but all it did was gently cling to your begauzed phalange.

    You then began to feel that presence--his presence. But it felt more comforting now. It felt like the watchful eye of a guardian as it looked after its charge.

    ...Wait. "Guardian"?

    Putting two-and-two together, you gasped.

    The basement.
    That terrible beast that tried to kill you. 
    That person who blockaded the creature as you made your escape.
    It was him that saved you.
    He was on your side from the beginning.

    With this revelation, you truly began to feel guilty. All of this effort to help you, and you evaded him as if he were no different from those terrible monsters. You forced him to suffer through that painful transformation, yet he didn't seem care. All he wanted was for you to be safe.

    God, you really are a shitty person, aren't you?

        Clutching your pearls, you let out a remorseful sigh.
        "I'm sorry I doubted you, sir."

    The goop clinging to your phalange gently crawled up to trace the back of your hand, as if to console you. The bird seemed to join in as well, giving your cheekbone a sympathetic nuzzle. You return the gesture with a grateful smile, leaning into its feathery contact.

    After retrieving the bouquet of roses, you went into the lobby. Everyone was standing around in their usual spots, as if nothing had happened.

        That is, until you heard a laugh of joy coming from the popcorn stand.
        "Brother! You're back!"

    You turned to see the popcorn vendor tightly embracing what appeared to be that toy cat from the Toymaker's shop, but now seemingly back to normal.

        "How... how did you escape?" the vendor asked.

        "Well..." his brother replied, "See, there was this skeleton lady with a yellow bird on her shoulder that came by the shop, asking the Toymaker to build something for her, and I guess he started focusing his interest on her instead. And then he never came back to the shop after the show was over, so I guess that somehow turned me back to normal."

        "Ah, who cares how it happened? I'm just glad you're back!" the vendor said with a grin, "Now I don't have to worry about scrounging for money by selling this lousy popcorn anymore!"

    The vendor caught a glimpse of you standing there, and greeted you with an exhilarated wave and a pointing gesture down at his brother. You politely return his greeting with a smile, before going to exchange your bouquet for the Nutcracker's ticket. After that, you gave it to one of the doormice and entered the theater.

    However, the director wasn't there to march up and yell at you this time. It felt strange, but you had a feeling why. Regardless, the show couldn't start without you, so you promptly went backstage with the other actors.

    The play went as it usually did, with the drumroll, the opening of the curtains, the piano beginning its tune, and the narrator starting his intro. Then you were prompted onstage, and the tale began once again. You said "no" to hearing a bedtime story from "Mother", and "no" again to seeing the present "Wingdings" had for you. The last lines of dialogue were spoken, and the piano played its outro as the curtains closed.

        "We will now break for a short intermission." the emcee announced.

    After the theater was emptied, you rummaged through your inventory and pulled out the toy soldier, showing it to the bird.

        "I think I know what to do with this."

    You returned to the lobby and approached the caprine boy.

        "I don't get this play!" he complained once again.

    You offered him the toy soldier, watching his hollow eyes widen in surprise.

        "Cool!" he said as he took it, "Mommy, look! Look! Look at me!"

    Then, you saw the Sphinx turn to speak with you.

        "Ah, he is so much better behaved now." she said, "Thank you."
        She handed you what looked like a stack of printed papers stapled together, labeled "Act III".
        "Here, maybe he won't need this anymore."

    Got SCRIPT.

        "The little one found that on the floor." she explained, "Maybe you will find it useful."

    Aha! There it is! You let a silent cheer of triumph as you put it away in your inventory. But as you began making your way back to the theater to return it to that staff member, you spotted the short being from the basement, looking more sad and mopey than usual. You and the bird exchange a look of concern, before approaching him.

        "That sucked! Wingdings!" he whined.

    You watched him in silence, wondering what could possibly cheer him up. You looked over at the bird again, who met your gaze for a few moments. Then, it fluttered down to your hands, prompting you to cup them under its body. It looked up at you, with clear intent: to be given to the short being.

        "Are you sure?"

        The bird nodded.

        "Okay..."
        With a deep breath, you offered it to the short being in front of you.
        "Would a lovely bird soothe your woes?"

    The short being looked up, his red eyes immediately brightening at the sight, and eagerly scooped the bird into his hands.

        "Aw, yesssss! I'll cherish it forever." he said, "Thanks for the favor, sis."

        You gave him a chastising glare.
        "You'd better not shoot it this time."

        His eyes widened for a moment, before letting out a sheepish laugh.
        "Eh... Wingdings... kinda took my gun, anyway."

        "Good."

    There was a moment of awkward silence. You looked down at the contented little bird as it perched inside the short being's hands.

        "Well, I... guess this is where we part ways, my friend."

    The bird chirped sweetly as it flew up for a moment to give you a "kiss" on the tip of your nasal bone. Giggling, you cupped your hands under it and returned the gesture with a kiss on its forehead, before returning it to its new master.

        "See you later, Little Birdie. Thank you for everything."

        The bird chirped its returning farewell.

    As you made your way back to the theater to bring the script back to the staff, you heard the bird sing out the first half of that "perfect song" you learned together; prompting you to respond by singing out the other half.

        "C'mon, guys, you're gonna make me tear up." the short being remarked.

    Giggling to yourself, you smiled solemnly as you went into the theater. You then went down to the dressing room to speak with that frantic stagehand.

        "Oh no, I lost it!" he cried, "Wingdings is going to be mad! Ohh..."

    Gently tapping his shoulder, you offered him the stapled papers given to you by the Sphinx. His eyes widened in shock.

        "That's... that's the script!" he cried, "You really found it? Thank you! Now we can finish the play!"
        He eagerly accepted it from you.
        "You're not half bad!"

    There was a moment of silence as his excitement subsided.

        "My brothers might be rude to you." he said, "But they don't hate you."

    They don't hate you.
    For some reason, those words echoed in your mind.

        "I know!" he decided, "I'll give you something cool after the play!"

    Then suddenly, you heard the emcee announce over the intercom:

        "Act II is about to begin.
        Please make your way to your seats."

    This is it. No turning back.

    The play began again. You are back onstage, standing next to the narrator.

        "This is Arial!" said the narrator, "Arial! Are you excited about having little brothers?"

        You didn't answer.

        "Ahem, Arial!" the narrator repeated with a glance in your direction, "Are you excited about having little brothers?"

        "Ah... yes?"

        "Of course you are! It is only natural! Please go and... tell everyone!" said the narrator.

    You watched as he shuffled offstage. Then you saw "Mother" and "Wingdings" shuffle onstage; the assembly of their "room" soon after. Once again, you went up to the door and pretended to "eavesdrop" on the two.

        "The twins are getting older..." you heard "Wingdings" say, "It might be difficult! To stay!"

Everything will be better when we move.

        "Mother! The capital is wonderful! It's always summer there!" you heard "Wingdings" suggest.

Say goodbye to the seasons.

        "Wingdings! What about the house?" you heard "Mother" ask.

        "The house?" you heard "Wingdings" reply, "This house is just... a memory!"

        "Wingdings! I don't want to leave!" you heard "Mother" plead.

I like the seasons.

I don't want to leave them behind.

        "But Mother! The twins need more room to grow!" you heard "Wingdings" insist.

Why are you so selfish.

Why are you always so selfish.

What does family mean to you?

    You heard that wooden creaking sound.

        "Wingdings! Was that... the door?" you heard "Mother" say.

        "Arial! Where is Arial?" you heard "Wingdings" say.

        You saw the narrator shuffle back onstage.
        "All of this fighting!"

Ever since we heard the twins were coming, and thereafter.

Mommy and 'Dings fought a lot.

        "Between Mommy and 'Dings!"

They only talked about the twins.

Or moving away.

Or Mommy's illness.

        "Makes Arial very sad!"

...
Mommy stopped reading to me at bedtime.

...
'Dings stopped giving me presents.

        "And so!"

And so...

        "Arial decides..."

That night, you decided...

        "To run away!" the narrator concluded.

    The curtains closed for a few moments. Another drumroll sounded, interrupting the music, as the curtains opened again. You were standing next to the narrator again, against a familiar street backdrop. The music started up again.

        "This is Arial!" said the narrator, "She has run away from home! She is very sad."

    You watched as the narrator shuffle offstage, wondering what will happen next.

        Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.
        "M-Muttler, slow down!"

    At that moment, it all came flooding back.

    Meanwhile, in the white void of your subconscious, you heard the same voice speaking to you directly.

        "Hey, A-Arial?
        D-Do you still remember m-me?"

    It was a dark, chilly, early autumn evening. You had just run away; now all alone on the street. With a sniffle, you looked back. There was no one out looking for you. This further cemented your decision, as you continued wandering down the street.

    Then suddenly, you saw a reptilian monster about your age walking down the street, with a large white dog by their side. The young monster had a pale yellow body with pale orange spikes on the back of their head; wearing a plain, sleeveless, white medical gown with aqua-green polka dots; as well as a brown polaroid camera around their neck. Their eyes were wrapped in medical gauze, indicating some kind of visual impairment (which was probably why that dog was there).

        "M-Muttler, slow down!" the blind kid cried.

        "Bark! Bark!" said the dog.

        "W-What's that?" they asked, "A g-girl?"

        "Um... hello." you greeted.

        "Uh... uh... hello!" the blind kid replied, clearly struggling to figure out where you were until you gently "ahem"-ed.

        "I like your dog." you remarked.

        "Th-This is Muttler." the blind kid introduced, glancing at the large canine.

        "Bark!" said Muttler.

        "He h-helps me see." they explained.

        "You can't see? What's wrong with your eyes?" you asked.

        "Th-They got burnt up in a magic incident, ha ha." the blind kid replied, "But D-Dr. Alphys said she can fix 'em!"

        "You know Dr. Alphys, too?" you asked.

    The blind kid didn't really answer. They looked aside for a moment, thinking.

        "Um... C-Can I take a p-picture?" they sheepishly asked.

        "Of me?" you asked.

    Meanwhile in the present, "Wingdings" and "Mother" are back onstage; pretending to be driving around in a car-shaped prop made out of cardboard.

        "Arial! Arial! Where is Arial?" called "Wingdings".

        "Wingdings! You are driving too fast!" said "Mother".

        "Arial! Where is Arial?" called "Wingdings".

        "I take p-pictures of everything." the blind kid explained, "So once I can see again, I'll know all the p-places I've been! Wanna see?"

        "Sure." you agreed.

    One by one, you watched as the little monster pulled out various polaroid photos, laying them in front of you.

        "We're looking for this little white dog!" they said, pointing out one photo in particular; showing  a blurry silhouette of a small canine-shaped critter.

        "...These pictures are all blurry." you bluntly remarked.

        “What?" they asked, confused.

        "It's because you keep moving back and forth." you said, "Here, hold still."

    You walked up to stand behind the little monster, and gently positioned them to stand in pace. Then you walked back in front of them.

        "Now take a picture." you requested.

    The little monster bopped the snapshot button of their camera with their snout. There was a flash, followed by a freshly-printed polaroid of yourself scrolling out of the device.

        "Now it's not blurry!" you said.

        "Wow! Th-Thank you!" the blink kid cried in gratefulness.

        "Bark! Bark!" said Muttler.

        "M-Muttler wants to know your name." the blind kid requested.

        "My name?" you asked, “...My name is Arial.”

        "A-Arial?" they repeated, "L-Like the font?"

        "Uh-huh." you replied, nodding.

        "O-Oh! S-So you're a s-skeleton, right?" they asked.

        “Yup." you replied with another nod.

        "C-Cool! N-Nice to meet you, A-Arial!" they said, "M-My name is--"

        "Bark!" Muttler interrupted.

        "W-We should head back soon. It's startin' to get late, ha ha." said the blind kid, "Shouldn't you go home, t-too?"

        You shook your skull.
        "...I ran away from home."

        "Wh-Why?" they asked, sounding concerned.

        "Mommy and Daddy... They don't want me anymore." you quietly explained.

        "...Th-They could be looking f-for you." said the blind kid, "Th-They must be w-worried."

        "I doubt it." you remarked, looking away coldly.

    Suddenly, you spot a small white dog trotting down the other side of the street without care.

        "Look! A little white dog!" you cried.

        "A d-dog?" the blind kid repeated as they frantically looked around, "Wh-Where?"

        "There! Crossing the street!" you pointed out.

        The blind kid finally notices.
        "A stray. Just like you."

        "...Just like me." you muttered.

        "Oh! P-Picture." the little monster remembered, "Hold  st-still..."

    They snapped a picture of the little dog. A new polaroid scrolled out of the camera, with an image of the dog on it. Their quest had been finally completed, thanks to your help.

        You observed the stray canine for a moment, deep in thought.
        "Maybe it's lonely too... just like me."

        "Huh?"  said the blind kid, sounding confused.

        You began to approach the little white dog.
        "Here, boy..."
        You began to step across the street.
        "What's wrong? Are you lost?"
        You got a bit closer.
        "It's pretty late... Do you know where your house is?"
        You got a bit more closer.
        "I can take you home if you want."
        You summoned a small bone bullet and offered it to the dog, in an attempt to lure it over.
        "C'mon, boy... c'mon..."

        "Bark!" you heard Muttler say.

        "Arial, there's a c-car coming." the blind kid called out.

    You turn to see a familiar car zooming your way. The moment it appeared, you heard a familiar voice.

        "(ARIAL! NO!)"

    The loud drone of a car horn sounded as the car swerved away from you...

    ...right into the blind kid and their dog.

    Screams. A loud yip. An explosive collision. You were sent flying; the force striking  you directly in your left orbital region. Landing crumpled among the reeds, your senses were dulled by searing, excruciating pain.

    It hurt so much. It wouldn't stop.

    A few moments later, as your consciousness blurred, you heard nearby residents coming over to see what was going on. One of them came to your aid, but you could barely comprehend what they were saying. You then heard another one dialing a three-digit phone number and requesting something. Soon after, you thought you heard an outdoor emergency siren activating in the distance; going off three times. A few minutes later, you thought you heard the approaching sound of emergency vehicle sirens as everything faded to black.

    In the white void of your subconscious, you heard the familiar voice of "Picture Kid".

        "Hey, A-Arial.
        D-Do you still remember m-me?
        You c-came back.
        I knew you would.
        Th-That's why I waited.
        Th-That's why we all waited.
        Th-Thanks, Arial.
        Thanks for coming back."

    You were kneeling on the stage, catatonic. Slowly, you reached up to graze the wrappings around your broken eyesocket. Then finally, after years and years of emotional constipation, you let it out. You let it all out. You sobbed hard in your hands. You sobbed and sobbed, until there were no tears left to sob.

    Then suddenly, you felt a spoon-like hand jostle your shoulder. It was the stagehand that you retrieved the script for.

        "Hey... the show is over!" he said, "Thanks for finding the script for us! Now we can win all the awards!"
        He reached into his coatpocket and pulled out something small and shiny.
        "Here, I think you should have this."

    Got GEAR.

        "Wingdings would want you to have it." he said quietly.

    There was a moment of silence.

        "...Bye bye!" he finished, giving you a little wave before shuffling away.

    The lobby was completely devoid of life when you emerged. Everyone was gone. "Picture Kid" and their dog-thing were gone, too. You silently made your way into the door to the ticket booth, the door left ajar as usual. You went down to the grandfather clock, observing the empty spot within before taking out the gear and inserting it.

    ...It fit perfectly.

    As the clock slowly stirred to life, you felt the shadowy presence of the strange man sink from the ceiling into his usual spot, manifesting as his "normal" self (well, as "normal" as he could make it), returning your silent gaze.

        "...!"
                "(It wasn't your fault, Arial.)"
        "...!"
                "(We don't blame you, Arial.)"

    He paused for a moment.

        "...!"
                "(There are millions of Daddies in the world.)"
        "...!"
                "(Millions of girls get to have a Daddy's love.)"
        "...!"
                "(But only little Arial gets to have Wingdings's love.)"
        "...!"
                "(That's why I wanted you to call me Wingdings.)"

    You sensed his demeanor soften with yearning.

        "...!"
                "(Arial...)"
        "...!"
                "(You remember now... don't you?)"

    You gazed deeply into his masked face.

        "...Dad?"

    He slowly began to fade away.

        "Wait! Don't go! I never got to say goodbye!"

    You felt him give you a solemn smile.

        "...!"
                "(My child...)"

    He slowly reached out, caressing your cheekbone.

                "(We already said goodbye... a long time ago.)"

    You felt his hand lay against your broken eyesocket, feeling an aura of relief. Leaning against his touch, you gazed at each other one last time before he finally disappeared.

    Silently gazing at the now-operating clock for a moment, you proceeded to slowly make your way down the carpet and out of the room. But instead of coming out the door of the ticket booth and into the lobby, you found yourself in a strange black void filled with what seemed to be endless, monochromatic rows of your young doppelganger.

    You approach one.

        "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." she muttered over and over.

        "It wasn't your fault."

        "But it was my fault..." she replied, "My fault... My fault..."

    You approach another one.

        "My fault... My fault..." she continued. "I ran away..."

        "You couldn't have known."

        "But I did know..." she replied, "I knew it would happen... I knew they would come find me... Come find me... Come find me..."

    You approach another one.

        "Come find me... Come find me..." she continued, "I wanted them to..."

        "You didn't mean it."

        "I wanted them to... I wanted them to look at me..." she said, "Look at me... Look at me..."

    You approach another one.

        "Look at me... Look at me..." she continued, "They wouldn't look at me."

        "They loved you very much."

        "Very much..." she repeated, "That's not true... They hate me... Hate me..."

    You approach another one.

        "Hate me... Hate me..." she continued.

        "They don't hate you."

        She looked down.

        "I've talked to them. All of them. The twins. Mom. Dad. Even the kid with the camera."

        She hugged herself.

        "They'll forgive you. As long as you don't forget them."

        She slowly looked up at you.
        "...They'll forgive you. As long as you don't forget them... Arial."

    With that, they all disappeared at once. You continued going down, and finally got out into the lobby. "Picture Kid" was standing there, waiting for you.

        "Y-You fixed the clock!" they cheered, "Time isn't f-frozen anymore."
        Their demeanor then quickly grew serious.
        "This house... It's only a mem-memory. It's fading."
        They began turning towards the exit.
        "Y-You need to leave! F-Follow me, please!"

    You watched as "Picture Kid" began absconding out of the lobby, nearly tripping over themselves. As the lobby began fading to greyscale, you promptly followed them out through the "cathedral" as it faded to grey as well, following them down the stairs to the second floor.

        "Hurry! Th-This way!" said "Picture Kid", as they scooted down the hall.

    As you ran after them, you stop upon seeing a vision of watching your younger self and your "real" parents bringing your twin brothers into the nursery; the others' faces obscured by clouds of white pixels. Snapping out of it, you went downstairs as the second floor faded to grey.

        "Hurry! Almost th-there!" you heard "Picture Kid" call out.

    As you pass the kitchen, you see a vision of your brothers as toddlers waddling along and asking your mother something while she was cooking on the stove.

        "Come on! You have t-to go!" you heard "Picture Kid" call out.

    As you passed by the living room, you see a vision of you and your parents watching your brothers playing and jumping around without a care in the world. But you quickly snapped out of it and proceeded followed "Picture Kid" out the door; just as the rest of the house faded to grey.

 [ END OF ACT III ]

Chapter Text

     You and "Picture Kid" ran into the front yard; bending over trying to catch your breaths. It was a relief you two made it out in the nick of time, otherwise you might've faded away too. After a few moments, you both stared up at the house--whose exterior was still "normal"--in silence.

        "I... I'm a memory, t-too." said the little blind monster, "Ha ha..."
        They looked up at you, quiet for a moment.
        "Arial... I know it's hard, b-but... D-Don't forget me again, okay? P-Promise?"

        "...Promise."

    You link a pinky phalange with the tip of their tail, which coiled around it. After a moment, you let go.

        "Wait!" you interjected, "I don't think you ever told me your name."

        "My n-name?" they repeated, "It's--"

    Before they could finish, you helplessly grasped after them as they faded away. Soon after, the house's exterior faded to grey. The house then suddenly began to crack like the surface of glass, before shattering and disappearing into thin air; leaving an open, empty lot in its place. As you stood there, you noticed something--your broken eyesocket was feeling different. Curious, you slowly reached up to unwrap the wrappings; viewing the uncovered sight in a nearby puddle.

    What was once a cracked, gaping hole in your left orbital region was a reconstructed eyesocket; completely normal-looking--save for the small crack down the middle as well as its perpetually hollow look. The sight in this eyesocket didn't seem to have returned, either, but it was still progress. Progress down your road to recovering from this horrible trauma. A small vestige may always remain, but... at least it didn't hurt anymore.

    You stood there for a few more moments, before you began to walk away. Taking one more look at the now empty property, you pulled your hood up and returned to your boat, shoving off into the starry night.

    You rode your boat down the calm river, singing and humming your merry little shanties by the glow of your vessel's lantern. You had no idea what time it was, or how long you were in that "phantom house". Things looked relatively the same; as if time really was frozen during your little adventure.

    And what about all those strange beings and entities who dwelled there? The red-eyed duo from the basement, the wise and powerful Sphinx from the garden, the mysterious masked man from the attic... were they really supposed to be your family? What about that blind monster kid and their dog? How did they come to be that way if they died in that car wreck? You thought that, upon death, monsters turned to dust and their SOULs leave this world--that's it. You didn't think it was possible for monsters to actually come back from the dead (in a sense), if what you witnessed was even real. Was it real, or just a dream? You didn't recall going home and to bed last night. Was it still "last night"? Your senses were so messed up that you couldn't even tell anymore.

    You hear an outdoor emergency siren go off as you passed the area where the Ebott Valley fire department was--three times, you counted. The siren was a common sound you heard in your daily life, so you hardly paid any mind to it.

    As you rode along the river, you began to wonder more about your family--or rather, those "avatars" of them. Why did they look the way they did? Why were your brothers portrayed by a pair of red-suited, malefactorious gentlemen? Why was your father portrayed by a masked, shapeshifting void cryptid? Why was your mother the only one of the four who had "avatars" of completely different races? Your father and brothers at least retained a semblance of your shared species, but not her. What made her so different? Was it because of her supposed illness? Was this symbolic of the interpersonal alienation you felt toward her? Maybe. But your biggest question of all: what was the deal with all of those greyscale monsters?

    Your train of thought was temporarily disrupted by the incoming sirens of a first responder vehicle as it passed by. It looked like it came from the fire department; headed in the same direction you were going.

    Clinging to your pearls, you ruminated about the fate of your family, your blind friend, even the bird. Were they really gone? Will they ever come back? Will you ever see them again? You were kind of morose that you couldn't say one final goodbye to the bird before the house disappeared--but on the other hand, maybe it was for the best. The bird was already dead when you found it, so perhaps it belonged among the other residents within the premises. In other words: let the dead stay with the dead.

    Your train of though was interrupted once again by the sound of a wailing fire engine as it passed by--in the same direction as that first responder. You were getting a little concerned now, but you figured it was just a small residential fire that got a bit out of control. Surely there was nothing too much to worry about.

    ...That is, until a wailing ambulance followed in the truck's wake not too long after.

    Growing a little more unnerved, you tried to ignore it as you continued ruminating. To think that, after all these years of repressing those traumatic memories, it would somehow come back to bite you. It took like, what, two damned decades? You wondered how the forces of the great beyond somehow decided that you needed to face your past after denying it for so long.

    But in the end, how do you really feel? Well... it didn't seem to really matter. It's no use crying over spilled milk. You're a big girl now, and you've turned out just fine (all things considered). As the only survivor of your siblings, it was your duty to carry the torch for the sake of your family's legacy. A legacy that you learned will never go away--no matter where you run, no matter where you hide, no matter how much you've changed.

    At the same time, however, you were your own monster. Your past and its connections were but a mere chrysalis. A chrysalis you can finally shed, once and for all. It was time to move forward, to live life as you intended it; with destiny as your guiding hand.

    Nonchalantly humming to yourself, you could've sworn you saw that tall being from the house's basement idly standing in the reeds as you passed by. A few moments later, you could've sworn you saw the Sphinx standing in the reeds, daintily gazing across the river. Then a few moments later, you could've sworn you saw the strange man--no, your father--standing in the reeds as he yearnfully watched your vessel riding along the water. Surely it was all in your head, a subconscious peace of mind that your family was finally free of that cursed place, however it happened. It was time to move on, for them and you.

    ...But then, in the midst of your rumination, you caught an orange glow amidst rapidly flashing blue-and-red lights in the corner of your eyesocket. People were shouting. Pressurized water was being sprayed. The sound of a gurney's wheels as it is brought out.

    Slowly, you turned to see what was going on.

    Out there, in the middle of the street, were emergency services responding to a fiery car collision.

[ THE END ]