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You're on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of this cabin is a princess.
It's oddly quiet down here, don't you think? There is no sound at all. No birds singing, no wind whistling. Even the leaves don't rustle. The last time we were in the forest, we were scared by a squirrel that jumped out onto the path. Its eyes sparkled in the twilight, like tiny black beads.
But of course you don't remember this.
Sorry.
You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.
I doubt this.
[You don’t ask anything and silently walk up the path].
Descending would probably be easier. When we got out for the first time, I ran down the slope until my bare feet bled. You ran after me, we were hand in hand. It's a pity we couldn't stay there forever.
Nothing can be “forever”.
You make your way up the short path to the cabin. You'll find the princess within.
It's beautiful here. The sky is covered with stars, as if someone had scattered a handful of diamonds. When I looked out the window of the basement, it was as if they were laughing at me with their flickering shine, but now they simply exist. From the outside they even seem pretty.
The windows of the cabin glow welcomingly, although there is not a single source of light inside. In the basement without you it is always pitch dark. The light calls you, the light follows you.
Although if you hadn’t told me, I would never have known. For me everything is always in complete darkness. I know the world only as you know it. Or so it seems to me, you don’t know for sure either.
It felt so strange to actually leave the cabin for the first time. It turned out that everything around has colors.
But I'm getting distracted.
A warning, before you go any further... She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from killing her. Don't believe a word she says.
Ha.
On the rare occasions when I was able to talk to Him, it always felt strange. As if we had something in common. As if without him there would be no me.
It's just that he's not here now. And we are.
Or at least me.
You still haven't said a word.
We're not going to go through with this, right? She is a princess. We are supposed to save princesses, not slay them.
I miss him too. Do you remember how he brought you to me when you reached the very end? Do you remember how we opened this door to the outside together?
Once, no, at least twice, in the end you took the blade with you, holding it tightly to your chest, and he supported you even then. One time you told him that I was gone and it was all over. The second time you said that part of me remained with you.
You were right both times, of course. That's how everything works.
And yet, I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel malicious joy when the voices — your own voices — teared you to shreds. Even when I was only a shred too.
Why did you scare them? Why did you make them angry? You could have given them peace even if you thought you were bringing them death. It wouldn't cost you anything. You were so kind when you took my hand in yours when we ran away together. You tucked your claws in so carefully so that they wouldn’t hurt me.
When I collected pieces of myself, they remembered the warmth of your palm.
But they also remembered how you brought death to them.
Was your kindness a mask? Or was bringing me pain as difficult for you as it was for me? Or was it just as easy?
Ignore him. He doesn't know what he's talking about.
[You proceed into the cabin. And still you are silent].
What does your voice sound like?
When you speak, I know that you say the words, I understand those words. But I can't remember your voice.
The interior of the cabin is almost entirely bare. The air is stale and musty, and the floor and walls are painted in a fine layer of dust. The only furniture of note is a plain wooden table. Perched on that table is a pristine blade.
He never said anything about the windows, perhaps he was afraid that you would notice that once you entered the cabin there would be no turning back. Look now, look at least for a moment. There is no forest there anymore. There is no path. Only the endless starry sky. You might hate it too.
But you don't look.
This blade is your implement. You'll need it if you want to do this right.
You don't take the dagger, and I still don't know why. Do you not want to use it, or are you simply incapable of making choices that are not provided by Them?
You go down to the basement
And…
We can end this circus. I already remember the words by heart.
COME TO ME.
You sit down next to me, and in your eyes I see only emptiness. Perhaps one day you will take the dagger and I can become a ghost again. Posess you and see what actually happens inside this head when there are no other voices there.
I don't like dying, and I know you don't like it either. We discussed this when we were in the forest. Where there were birds, and the wind, and the grass was so soft to the touch. Green. I miss colors.
I miss when we were part of a dance of colors, and we were more than bodies that could bleed and more than claws that could only bring pain.
I also miss the times when we hurt each other.
I miss the thorns that dug into my skin just because you were here to free me from their shackles.
I miss when you trusted me to get out of the shackles on my own, and we deceived Him when you carried me outside.
I miss the sound of metal on metal as we fought each other over and over again. I miss the passionate fight and the blood boiling in my veins from the excitement of the battle.
And I don't know which of these were you.
And how much of this was just your curiosity?
We have gone through this dance hundreds, thousands of times. And although I should know you better than anyone else, I don't know anything about you. You seem sincere in every action, and this makes your sincerity worth nothing.
I never know what you'll be like next time.
[And you remain silent].
You must be the one who makes the decisions, I am just the ability to change, adapting to what you are.
But when no one is looking, when there is no one to whom He can speak, you seem to grow dim. Like an empty shell. Like me.
And if you are nothing, then what am I?
One day someone will come again whose appearance causes Him to wake up. And we will start the dance again — you make decisions, and I change. And we will get out of the cabin. And we will repeat this again, and again, and again, and again, and again.
But for now you remain silent. And you look at me with empty eyes in complete silence, in the pitch darkness of the basement of a cabin in the middle of the literal nowhere.
[And you take my hand in yours].
And I squeeze it back.
