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You face the King for the last time. He talks, and talks, and talks, and not a word of it matters even if it is different. He attacks. It means nothing. When he strikes , it hurts, but that means nothing, too.
He tries to freeze you, to slow you. Blind him. You’re going to kill him!
Your Craft tears into his armor and he collapses in front of you as you lunge forward knife first. You stab into the cracked openings in the armor, again, again, reveling in the way his blood is forced out of the wounds to make room for your dagger, the way it wells, the way it makes him choke and sputter. It feels so good to make him hurt.
You can’t tell if he’s trying to talk – still, even now, just talking – or just letting pained gurgling slip past his throat as he gags. Either way, the noise is useless.
With one last wheeze, the King stills.
...
...
...Is he...?
...
A bark of a laugh escapes you. He’s dead! You pull your dagger from his chest, and he doesn’t react. You laugh again, harder, longer this time. Oh, stars, you did it! He's dead, by your hand! You did it, you’re done, it’s over! The House comes alive around you, thawing in time, just like you will, too. Your laughter lifts high into the air, fills the room. Bounces off of itself.
You breathe out one last hah! then sigh. Release the tension, relax.
Alright. You come back into your body and– oh, you're shaking. Your legs can’t hold you; your dagger falls from numb fingers. You drop to your knees onto overgrown hair sticky with blood. Your hands would be sticky as well, if not for your gloves. You breathe in, and out. Steady.
You suppose it took a lot out of you to get here, to fight, to loop back in fits and starts. More than you realized.
You want to stand up. You have to go see the Head Housemaiden and take your final bow. But you’re exhausted, so you just... sit, for a while. She can wait for you. She always does.
You wait for your limbs to stop trembling.
You watch the blood on the ground thicken.
You wait for your head to stop buzzing.
You stare at the shattered star on the shattered chest plate.
Okay, that’s enough. You push against the king’s corpse to help you stand. Ignore the static that fills your vision for just a moment. You have a monologue to listen to, one last time.
You climb, slowly, over the bleeding metal husk. In the way.
...It’s hard to walk. You lean against the doorway to catch your breath. This shouldn’t be this difficult. You were fine a moment ago, weren’t you? You could fight, you could breeze through the whole blinding House, cutting through Sadnesses like they were water. You’re still fine. You just need a second.
The hall is filled with something visceral. A shade streams in through the windows, not light or dark. That color that shows its face when something breaks. What's breaking? You?
No, no, this is good! The loops are breaking! It’s working, it’s working!
You take a step. Then another. Find the rhythm. Step, balance, shift. Step, balance, shift, step, balance, shift, step, balance, balance, shift, step, balance, shift, step...
The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as you are hit with the sudden, intense feeling that you are being watched.
You whirl to face whoever is watching you play your part, your blinding audience– but there’s no one. Another ghost, then. Trying to taunt you with the faces of the family that won’t follow you.
...Why aren’t they here?
Stupid. Of course they’re not here, not after you were terrible to them. Not after you showed your true shades. How could you? And then you have the gall to cry for them to stay. Selfish, disgusting, disgusting.
At least now, when you complete your final loop, you won’t be manipulating them anymore. They know who you really are. Your heart twists.
Keep moving. You’re fine, you’re almost out, don’t think about it. You’re almost out, after all.
You start to speed up, but your weak legs drag, stumble, give out underneath you.
It takes you a second to reorient yourself. Ah, you’re on the ground now. That’s fine. Get up again. You’re so, so close.
Your hands lift and press against the smooth floor when you feel it again.
Who's there? Stop looking, stop, blind you, you’re not on stage anymore, go away!!
No one. There's no one there, no one followed you, they didn’t follow you, you’re alone, you’re blinding alone–
You get to your feet. Make your way to the Head Housemaiden.
She’s not where she’s supposed to be. She’s staring out the window at the colored sky with her back facing you. She hears your footsteps and turns.
“Oh...! Traveling one, what...”
New words, she’s talking to you, she thinks you’re real! You grin at her and take another clumsy step forward. “I killed the King! It’s over!”
“Over?” She looks back at the sky. “You say you’ve defeated the King? I had put my faith in young Mirabelle... Did something happen to her?”
“She’s fine, I’m just faster,” you rush to explain. Your giddy words tumble over each other. “The color – that shows that something’s broken. Wish Craft put me in a time loop until I defeated the King myself, instead of her, and I did it, now the loops are breaking, so, so–! It’s all okay, now!”
“Something’s... broken?”
You nod furiously.
“Something’s broken, something’s failing, rotting!”
Oh.
Oh, stars, no.
“No, yes, I’ve fixed it, it’s okay,” you plead. “The wish is fixed, I, I’ve found how to make it work.”
She turns back to you in a jerk. Like a puppet on strings, she gets dragged into place with her hands clasped in front of her, back bowed, eyes brimming. “I can’t fix it on my own, not before it all ends...”
No, no, no... “But this was supposed to be it!”
“If only I had noticed sooner! I should’ve seen it, prevented it!”
That was all you had. Defeating the King on your own was supposed to...
“It’s my fault you have to suffer like this.”
The air fills with the choking smell of burnt sugar. “ Why?! ”
“I just hope that one day... you might learn to forgi–”
Tug.
You wake up in a field in Dormont.
You scream.