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then laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis
E. E. Cummings
* * *
You’ve spent the end of the loop here a few dozen times. It’s your favorite for when you’re in this mood; Ember Twin, where the sun burns impossibly close, where the air hums with heat and dread. You sit too close to Chert’s fire, listening to the sand cascading down from Ash Twin like a slow-moving clock- relentless, inevitable, grinding everything down.
It feels right, being here at the end. It’s near instantaneous this close to the sun, with little anticipation. You barely even have time to perceive the explosion before you’re gasping awake by the fire. You’re used to it by now, or at least you’d like to think you are.
You lean forward suddenly, the heat of the fire oppressive, “I don’t know what to do now, Chert.”
“Hmm? What are you talking about?” They tilt their head up from their charts, “You’re on your first flight, aren’t you? There’s so much to see! You’re allowed to go wherever you want.”
You almost laugh at that-at how easy they’re making it sound. But you say nothing. It gives Chert pause.
“You’re being awfully cryptic today,” they say, brushing sand off their notes, “Say, have you noticed anything unusual about the stars lately? Something seems... um... off,”
Their hands are steady, but you see it: the slight tremor at the edge of their movements. “I’ve seen ten—no twelve supernovae in the last 20 or so minutes... this can’t be right...”
They’re muttering now more to themselves than you, “There must be an explanation, something we missed? There’s something we...”
The sun, like it always does at this point in time, bulges and boils, glowing redder and hotter by the minute, as if it’s listening. This time, it fills you with a growing sense of fury.
“It's really over,” you think aloud, your hands shaking as you load up a marshmallow onto a stick, the action so familiar it's become automatic, “and I can’t stop it Chert. I’ve been to every corner of every planet. I’ve died a hundred times, a thousand times to try and stop it.”
Chert pauses, their fingers going still, “What?”
You think about telling them everything-about the loop, your deaths, the inevitability of what you must do. You’ve tried it all before, it never satisfies you. Instead, you watch as their confident mask crumbles into confusion, and then something worse, denial.
“What are you talking about?” Their voice rises, cracks, “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t… I won’t! I won’t believe it!”
You hate it when they get like this, the painful denial before acceptance rolls in.
By the time the sun finally bursts, shrinking and exploding into a stream of glorious blue light, Chert has gone silent. You stare straight at the explosion, and for one, blazing instant you think: I wish it hurt more.
* * *
Five useless loops later you realize something is growing within you. A rage so red-hot and scorching you wake at the fire with a roar, making Slate jump with surprise. You give them no pause before you're up in your ship and careening into space.
You crash down through the swirling storms of Giant’s Deep, slamming into the atmosphere, recklessly dodging spires of water before landing onto Gabbro's island, pieces of your ship flying off comically. This is exactly where you need to be, the crashing lightning, the whipping winds, the miserable miserable soggy wetness that seeps into your suit and weighs you down.
Gabbro is sitting cross-legged at the fire, poking at the flames with an air of calm that flings your fury into the stratosphere.
They look up as you approach, “Hey again, time-buddy! How’s it hanging? You’re looking... intense.”
You stop, clenching your fists, shoulders heaving. “How,” you seethe, “how can you just sit there?”
Gabbro seems taken aback; you’ve never approached them before when you feel like this.
Before they get a chance to speak, you begin again, “The sun is dying,” the word falls from your mouth slowly, as if you can barely say it aloud, “The universe is dying, and everything, everyone-and you’re here- what? Roasting marshmallows? Meditating? Why aren’t you helping me fix this?”
They meet your anger with a lazy shrug, as though you’ve told them about bad weather, not the death of everything. “I’m...uh-- not sure what you want me to do about it. Frankly, this all seems a little bit bigger than me and you, than any of us. Nothing lasts forever, right?”
At this, you realize, the thing inside you is a cancer, a growing mass that pulses with a rage against your skin. It makes you feel weightless and wild.
“You could at least try,” you spit, your voice growing louder. “You could pretend like it matters, like anything matters, like what I’m doing matters! I’m trying to save us.”
They slump, “Look, I get it, you’re mad. I’m mad too! But maybe, I’ve realized, there’s nothing here to save. Like, I just think, this is the way it is, and there’s nothing you or I can do to stop the world from ending. Have you maybe considered this is the way things are supposed to go, that the universe is supposed to-”
“No.” You sneer, cutting them off “It can’t end like this. I refuse to end like this.”
They look down at the crackling fire solemnly. You heave an angry breath and storm away.
You walk back to your ship with heavy, wet schleps. The cancer is all-consuming now, starved and demanding with claws and teeth and malice. It snakes tendrils down your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and darkens the edges of your vision. You stumble onto the ship, every movement feeling like a fight against the claws raking through your chest and the winds howling outside.
* * *
You waste another 20 something loops slamming your ship into things, as hard and as violently as you can. The sensation of 50 Gs of force, your body breaking through the glass of your ship, feeds the angry animal that has grown inside you.
The towers of Ash Twin explode the ship beautifully, instantaneously, with fire and a crash so loud it makes your broken bones hum. The death is painful and fast and wonderful.
You fling gleefully into the gaping maw of Dark Bramble and see how far you can get before the angler fish’s pointed fangs close around you. The Sun Station takes a considerable amount of skill to hit it just right, and missing into the fires of the sun only makes the fury burn hotter.
One horrible loop, you push full force into Timber Hearth village. You see your home for a split second and the faces of everyone you’ve known flash before your eyes. The death is fast, like all your other crashes have been, but the guilt and shame cling to you for hours afterwards.
Each crash, you feel the ship crumple like paper, the glass slicing your skin, bones shattering with a chorus of sickening cracks, and then, oblivion. It’s visceral and sharp and painful and agonizing and you relish every second. The adrenaline floods gloriously through your system every time and as you peel yourself up again beside the fire, you think you could do this forever.
Once, you barrel into the Hanging City so hard it crumbles into the black hole from the force alone. You’re ejected and sucked in along with it, but you realize with painful clarity as you’re warped through the black hole, it’s only part of you.
I’m still alive, you think with growing horror.
Floating into the void of space, the white hole glowing behind you, you look down. Blood and viscera float into a red painting against the backdrop of stars on your helmet. It’s kind of gorgeous you think with a calm understanding that only shock can conjure. It doesn’t last for long though, and instantly a searing red-hot pain blooms across your body and you scream. With terror you realize the force of the crash ripped your entire right arm off and the auto-seal clamped agonizingly down around it. The bottom half of you is numb, which is odd, you think, because your legs are grotesquely bent at every angle.
The scream turns into a visceral wail as your mind gives way to an animalistic panic. You gasp for air, it feels like you can’t breathe. The light from the sun turns foggy as you claw at the stump with your remaining arm, spinning aimlessly in nothing. You haven’t felt a fear like this before, a pain like this before, and the angry animal inside you shrivels.
The hole it leaves is vast and endless; it leaves you feeling smaller, weaker, more afraid.
Your death this loop takes what feels like hours, and by the time the sun explodes you welcome its embrace.
* * *
You wake to the fire with a half-choked wail. The Quantum Moon flashes in and then back out of view in between your furious blinks.
“Whoa hatchling! Take a breath!” You blink away the wetness from your eyes to see Slate putting their hands up placatingly, “It’s gonna be okay!”
You sit up and hug your limbs close to yourself, swearing you can still feel the ripped open hole in your right side. The phantom sensations linger, even though your body is whole again. This time, you don’t instantly jump for your ship, instead peeling yourself up, meeting Slate’s wide-eyed gaze.
“You look really shaken there kid, are you sure you’re ready for this?” they ask, concern lining their face.
“I’m.... fine.” You reply softly and pull your limbs in closer, just to feel them there. The beast is quiet now, shrunken and hollow inside your chest. “I’m ready for this.”
“That’s what I like to hear! You’ll need to get the launch codes from Hornfels at the observatory before you can lift off. Just bring those here once you’ve said your goodbyes or whatever."
The line is familiar, and it sends a painfully nostalgic ache through you. How many loops has it been now? It used to feel so energizing before, the chance to start again, to try something new. Untouched corners of your galaxy to explore, and all the time in the world to dissect them. All the time in the world to learn how to stop this. And then, even before this, a normal life on Timber Hearth, family and friends and learning and love; the time before the loop feels galaxies away. You have all your awful answers now, and an impossible decision to make.
Before you can follow that train of thought too long, you leap to your feet and launch toward the ship.
* * *
The galaxy that once felt so large and endless now feels like a cage trapping you inside it, suffocating. This one galaxy, these five planets, a handful of moons and the dying sun. How long has it even been, really? Weeks? Years? Twenty-two minutes? You feel as though you’ve lived for centuries.
You spend the next few loops feeling aimless and empty. You shoot away from the sun with the full force of the thrusters, pushing away from it all. You’ve done this before, you know there is no escape from what is coming, but you go anyway. Staring at the dash of the ship, at the buttons and controls before you, you hit EJECT before another thought can cross your mind. The ship flings you into empty space, and you relish the weightlessness that holds you.
You stare at nothing and everything, the gorgeous glowing expanse of stars and galaxies light years away. They make you think of Chert, behind you somewhere, watching the stars, oblivious for now. None of them have to remember, none of them get to. Would they choose to know each loop as you have if given the option? Would it have been better to live in blissful ignorance? Do their lives have meaning at all at this point?
Am I just delaying the inevitable? You think.
You shut the thought down before it can fester and press your jetpack to push you through the emptiness faster. You notice from the corner of your eye in the expanse of stars, an explosion, a supernova, the first of many. It is glorious from here, golden and glittering, horrible and gorgeous, even as it destroys itself.
That thought tickles you somehow, and you burst out laughing. A cacophonous roar of chuckles that echo around your helmet and bounce back, feeding into more laughter.
“What,” you manage through gasping cackles, “what am I even doing?” The words bounce back at you, muffled in your helmet. “Every death, every loop- I can’t die, I can’t live! Not unless -everything- everything comes down with me!” You’re hysterical now, “I’m the universe’s own crash-test dummy! A professional corpse! A sick fucking experiment.”
It hits you then, the weight of it all.
That's when the laughter cracks, breaks into something raw, shaking and desperate. You force your mouth shut, trying to hold it together.
“I didn’t ask for this,” you hiss softly, voice cracking, hot breath fogging the glass. “What is the point?”
Something flickers at the edge of your vision. You turn your head slowly, as though there’s no point rushing. It’s nothing new. You’ve seen this show before, after all, how many times has it been? Another star, forever away, folds in on itself before bursting into a glorious light show. Another follows, and then another, a cascade of brilliant golden fireworks. The supernovae light up the void like an elegy, their beauty sharp and final.
You tilt your head and for a second, you feel infinitesimally small. Not trapped, not suffocated. Just… small. A single cell in a body of trillions.
That’s when your oxygen warning light flashes, the alarm blaring in your ears suddenly, and you begin to suffocate.
A manic, wild laugh shakes loose from you, choked and painful, as the oxygen depletes and your vision darkens, and you die.
* * *
Something feels different the next few loops when you gasp awake by the fire. You find yourself exploring with no real destination, you end up anywhere and everywhere, the Attlerock, the scorching volcanoes of Hollow’s Lantern, the horrifying scene on the Vessel. You end up on the Quantum moon and kick a rock, before blinking and watching it disappear. That’s when it hits you, a plan, something ridiculous and gleeful, and you collect some shards into your pack and ship off.
* * *
“Hey Gabs!” you're grining wickedly, like you’ve just won a bet.
They glance over, surprise flickering over their face that quickly settles into bemusement. “Hatchling? You’re looking unusually... chipper.”
“Oh, I’m great,” you say casually leaning into a tree, “How’s the hammock?”
Gabbro’s four eyes widen in confusion, and they turn to the spot where they were stringing the fabric between two trees. “Uh... wait, what the-” They stop, realizing the entire spot is now a splotch of bare sandy beach.
“Uh, buddy, did you... uh... quantum my hammock? That’s new. Congrats, I guess.”
You double over with a chorus of laughter, “Took me three loops to figure that out! Worth it!” You pump your fist triumphantly.
Gabbro smirks and settles comfortably down by the fire and pokes at it lazily with a stick, “Hey, you got me, fair and square. It’s nice seeing you, uh, not trying to punch the universe. But, um... you doin’ okay, buddy?”
Your laughter is cut short at that, slightly taken aback. “Yeah, I’m doing fine.”
Gabbro gives you a skeptical look but says nothing further. They offer a stick and pull over a tin of marshmallows.
“Well, I can’t complain about a little quantum entertainment, can I?" They gesture to the spot next to them, “You might as well join me for little while you're here”
For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence over a round of marshmallows, and then Gabbro pulls out their flute. The hammock and trees reappear in between blinks, and it makes a round of chuckles begin all over again. You laugh along to the soft melody Gabbro plays as the storm howls around you.
* * *
You try everything you can next, just to see what happens. The emptiness inside you is still there, gnawing at your ribs, but now it makes you feel almost euphoric.
* * *
One loop you end up on Ember Twin, and with as serious a face you can manage you say,
“Chert,” You drop to one knee by their campfire, “I’ve loved you for a thousand loops. The stars might be dying, but my feelings for you burn eternal.”
They practically throw their drum at you, wonderfully flustered and awkward, their four eyes blinking furiously under their helmet. “What- What are you doing?!”
You laugh and laugh and laugh, deep, roaring cackles that shake your ribs and make your shoulders tremble
* * *
“Are you sure you want to drink before your first flight?” Porphy asks you quizzically, their eyes squinting.
“It's just for the road Porphy, give me as much as you can.” You smile bright and toothy.
It’s not just for the road. You get so sloshed before boarding your ship you only make it as far as the grove, upside down, hanging from your ship stuck in the trees. You manage to cut yourself from the seat, fall into the river and drown.
* * *
You stare at the Nomai statue in the museum, a bottle of sap-wine on your hip, and mind already a little fuzzy. It’s stupid goat-ass face seems to be mocking you somehow. So, you grab a rock and start swinging.
“What are you doing?!” Hal intervenes, running in to grab you as you get in a third hit.
Their hands pull you away, surprisingly strong for their small size, you fight back until somehow the battle goes to blows.
“The statue started it!” You scream, swing and miss Hal entirely, hitting your head hard on the edge of the pedestal.
You wake up by the fire next loop, with a pounding headache and a foul taste in your mouth. How does that even happen?
* * *
It’s meant to be funny, you insist to yourself in the aftermath. You wanted to see, you just, wanted to see what would happen, if you lured an Anglerfish straight to Feldspar’s camp. It was supposed to be funny, but you can still hear their horrified screams when you wake up, see the jaws of the Anglerfish closing around a broken half of Feldspar’s body, and you mention it to no one.
* * *
It comes to a head on Giant’s Deep: You’re hurtling again towards Gabbro’s island, not even trying to steady the ship this time. You let go of the controls and let the ship slam onto the highest point, the impact is deafening over the roars of the waves. The ship crunches like a tin can against the rocks and shards of metal spray everywhere. Your body is flung with such force that your helmet cracks against the console, and for a terrible few seconds you feel it all--the broken ribs, the slick warmth of blood pooling in your suit, jagged glass slicing your skin. You think you hear someone shouting over the roaring of the storms and the ringing in your ears but it’s too late, your vision turns dark, and you die.
When you return the next loop, you approach Gabbro’s camp with a smug smile and a hearty laugh, “Hey time-buddy, how’s the clean-up going?” You lean with crossed arms against a tree.
They look up from the fire they're tending to, a flat expression dulling their face.
“Oh. It's you.” They respond flatly, no trace of warmth or friendliness left in their voice
You frown, confused, try to brush off their reaction. “What's wrong?” you scoff, “I’m fine, it reset, you don’t even have to actually clean anything up.”
A haunted expression falls over their face and they go quiet for a long while.
“That was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” They finally say, softly.
The storm rages.
“You scared me,” Gabbro speaks again, voice hollow “You are scaring me.”
The words slice through you more sharply than the glass of the ship, and your smile falls. You open your mouth to say—what? That it resets? That none of it matters? That you’re fine? The words wither in your throat.
You say nothing and slump down by the fire, and eventually Gabbro finishes their camp set-up. The flames flicker in your vision, the island gets flung into space, and you say nothing. Gabbro plays their flute, and you watch as the fire flickers down, the sun bulges, explodes, and you burn.
You don’t come back to Giant’s Deep for a while.
* * *
You decide to hang out with Riebeck for a few loops. It’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t know anything about anything, someone who doesn’t know what you’ve done, who can’t know, who is just as curious about this world as you used to be. They remind you of yourself a few hundred or so loops ago.
They’re someone who is still scared of space, of what it can do to them, of all the horrible, awful ways they can die in this world, and that death still matters to them.
It keeps you away from the place you know you need to go to finish this, and for that you love them.
You sit around their fire, listening to them talk about anything and nothing. You aren’t really listening, but their voice is nice, and you appreciate the cyclical way Brittle Hollow’s crust falls into the black hole.
"The crust!” They’re saying as you burn a marshmallow, “It’s crumbling down like a pastry flaking apart. It’s uh... terrifying honestly. Don’t you think?”
You barely glance up from your sticky charcoal mess, “Yeah. It's always like that.”
They laugh nervously, “Always? You mean like, metaphorically?”
When you don’t respond, Riebeck keeps talking, “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to fall into you know what. I wonder if it would kill you instantly, or would it, like, pull you apart?”
You snort and load up another marshmallow, “Neither actually, you’ll just float into the void of space.”
They laugh again nervously, as another chunk of the planet crashes down.
“Well, I don’t know how you know that, but it doesn’t actually sound that bad.” They say.
You look up from your stick and stare at them quizzically.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, it's not that bad.”
Your marshmallow lights on fire and slips into the flames.
* * *
When you find yourself back at Brittle Hollow, late in the loop, a crumbling piece of the crust crashes close to the camp.
Riebeck tenses and hesitantly asks,
”You seem so calm, despite it all. How do you do that?”
You used to wonder about these things too, about how it would feel to be crushed into a black hole, drowned in sand, swallowed by a fish. You were terrified of dying back then. Now, it's just... routine.
They keep talking, fidgeting nervously with the strings of their banjo, “I think the scary part, it’s not the dying, it’s the meaning of it all. Like, did I do enough? Did I learn all the things I wanted to?”
“It’s not the dying that’s scary,” they say again, softer “it’s the not knowing. And the wondering if any of it ever mattered. And then, it’s also, what happens after, you know? Where does it all end up? Will anyone remember me?”
You stare at the fire silently, letting their words hang in the air. You would’ve once scoffed at their fear, dismissed them as naive. Now, it feels painfully familiar.
“What if it doesn’t matter?” Riebeck asks softly, turning to look at you with wide, frightened eyes.
Their words strike a quiet chord inside you, banging up against the cancerous growth still clinging desperately inside your chest. You remember the countless deaths, the countless lives you’ve gotten to live. The heat from the fire licks against your gloved hands, you don’t move them.
“Maybe it’s not supposed to matter,” You speak softly, “Maybe it’s just supposed to... be.”
Riebeck looks at you confused as you stand up quickly and turn away from them, away from their fear and their questions. You have things to see before this ends.
* * *
You sit with Chert for a few loops, quietly listening to their chatter about the stars. You don’t assuage their fears, but you don’t add to them either, as realization dawns over the twenty-two minutes. You look up at the dying sky by their smoldering fire.
“Oh, my fellow traveler. Let’s sit together and watch the stars die,”
They laugh softly, hollow and sad, “We only get so much time, don’t we? Ah, there was still more I wanted to do...How unlucky to have been born at the end of the universe.”
The sun bubbles and bursts and you sit with them through it all, it’s warm and the light is brilliant, and for the first time you don’t think about what comes next.
* * *
You spend another dozen or so loops on Timber Hearth, sitting on the banks of its gentle rivers, savoring the feeling of mist on your skin and the sharp smell of the trees. You trade jokes with Hornfels and Hal, play round after round of hide and seek with the kids, their laughter warms you, makes your heart sing, pulls at the weight inside your chest.
You let yourself careen up, up, up, from the deep caves into the sky from blasts of the geysers, laughing manically as they shoot you far from your home’s gravity and into space. It is a joyous time and when the sun swells a searing white-hot blue, you find yourself waking up peaceful.
* * *
You lie on your back, floating on the crashing waves of Giant’s Deep, watching the mesmerizing swirl of the tornadoes spin round and round. The storms rage, the waves crash, but here, at this moment, the water feels calm. The planet‘s rhythms rock you like a cradle.
For what feels like forever, you do nothing. You let the water support your weight, the roar of the winds muffled by the waves cradling your head. You think about how this place used to feel like violence, and you think about the pain, your body shattering, the sweet release it had been to lash out against the inevitable.
But right now, you think, this... this is better.
You close your eyes and let yourself drift.
* * *
You wake up by the fire with a deep breath, and orbiting Giant’s Deep, like you’ve seen it do countless times, is the Quantum moon.
Something about the way it watches you tugs in your mind, pulling you towards it, like it has a will of its own. You fly to it and the thought strikes you:
Maybe some things aren’t meant to be understood. Maybe they’re just meant to be seen.
As you push into its misty surface, the noise of the universe fades away. The mist curls around your ship like it’s inviting you in, and the tug in your mind goes quiet. You’ve made this pilgrimage before, it’s older than you, older than the stars themselves. The reflected planets are familiar underneath your boots, as your flashlight flicks on and off and on again. You move carefully, deliberately.
And then you’re there, the sixth location, warped jagged stones, unlike anything carved from the natural processes you know of, spill out under your feet like oil slicks.
And there she is. Solanum is waiting, as if she had been expecting you just at this exact moment. You suppose she has. Her masked face is expressionless, but you feel her gaze settle on you, soft, kind, like she can see the weight you carry. She tilts her head in quiet acknowledgement, as if she just knows.
You don’t say anything. Instead, you stand beside her in the mist and you both look up at the swirling eye above, the way it spins endlessly, its grey dance older than memory itself. It doesn’t explain itself; it doesn’t need to. And it's here, next to this ancient being, stuck between life and death, you realize, that for maybe all your searching, all the fury and fear, understanding was never the point. You’re okay with not knowing. For now, it's enough to witness.
* * *
You careen past the sun, and it strikes you to hit EJECT, so you do. You drift into the familiar void, watching the familiar stars that feel closer than they ever have before. You watch as one explodes and fades into the blackness—from this distance, in your eyes, it is a soft, quiet end.
“Nothing lasts forever, right?” You whisper to the stars in front of you, and as you speak the words, you think you believe it.
You’ve spent so long trying to fight this, putting it off, pushing it away, trying to save it. But it was never about that, was it? The universe doesn’t need saving, it’s lived its life, just like the Nomai, just like the stars, just like you. It’s okay to let it rest.
* * *
You sit across from Gabbro at the fire, the storm raging quietly around you. They look at you for a long moment, their usual smirk gone.
“You’re different,” they say finally. “Calmer”
“I think I’m ready,” you admit. The words come out quietly, but they feel right.
Gabbro nods slowly. “Endings aren’t so bad, buddy. They mean we got to live’”
You smile faintly and look up at them from the fire. “Yeah. We did.”
“So, what now?” Gabbro asks, fiddling lightly with the keys of their flute.
You stand up and look back at the flames of the campfire. “Now... I finish it.”
* * *
When you wake up this loop, your breath is even and deep. The fire crackles next to you, like it always has, and you spare no glance at Slate. You can’t- not this time. Giant’s Deep looms over head, its clouds swirl like a storm that’s already passed. You ignore it. There’s nothing left to linger on.
This has to be the one, you know exactly what you need to do, exactly where you need to go.
As you hurtle towards Ash Twin, everything feels still. The stars seem quieter, the hum of your ship softer, the weight of the moment settles into your bones. You think this is what it all was for. Every miserable death, every somber realization has brought you here. It’s all shaped you, steeled you into something capable of doing this one thing.
It doesn’t even feel like a choice anymore, or a fight. It feels like a promise you’ve always been meaning to keep.
You land on Ash Twin with steady hands. The sand feels slower and for the first time, you watch it, patient. You don’t fidget, you don’t pace. You stand there still as the stone beneath your boots, and you wait.
And then you’re in. You haven’t been here since the very first time, and the spinning core feels as hollow as it did then. But you’re not the same. You reach out for the core, and, for a moment, the faint hum it gives off reminds you of something alive, like its breathing with you. You hesitate just for a breath and reach forward.
The core is warm, impossibly light. It feels like holding the universe itself, small and fragile, in your trembling hands.
You don’t look back.
Dark Bramble is waiting, and you glide into its white void without flinching. You’ve ended your loops hundreds of times in their jaws, crushed by the metal of your ship, sliced in half by their teeth. You know the pain of it, intimately. But there’s no fear in you now. Just a resolute stillness, a powerful calm, and you push toward the vessel.
The long white corridors of the Vessel welcome you inside. The Nomai skeletons that litter the space feel like your witnesses, like they know what you’re about to do, that their mission is now complete.
The warp core slides satisfyingly into the pedestal. You enter in the coordinates; you memorized them long ago.
And then suddenly—
you warp.
You feel—weightless, not like zero-g, or being underwater. There is no atmosphere here, no gravity to pull you, no forces left to act upon you. You are untethered from physics and yet the ground unfolds beneath you. A grey oil surface spills under your feet—the shape is familiar to you, but you can’t quite remember why or what about it—
and then you’re walking, walking endlessly. It seems to take hours, you’re not even sure you’re the one pressing forward this time—and you’re not even sure where the boundaries of you are anymore—and suddenly there’s lightning and trees and stones and it all flashes into existence with each burst of light, and there’s a wailing coming from somewhere that drones again and again and again. You think it might be coming from somewhere inside you—
But then you’re looking up, there’s the Eye for real this time, swirling and calling to you and its slow spin burns into you an urge to see it, to witness, so you step off into the grey swirling cloud—
And then you’re, falling, falling, falling. Existence expands around you into tunnels of light and dark and time—It all stretches, you feel yourself distort, every particle of your being smears across the fabric of time—
And then—
You’re at the museum.
You’re you again, hands and feet and four eyes. Back home, on Timber Hearth. The Nomai statue stands in front of you. You see the map, think about your home, and for a moment, there’s Hal’s laugh, Gabbro’s voice. The crackle of the fire.
Suddenly your mind cracks,
swells,
expands.
And then—
You are everything.
And nothing.
You’re not sure what you are, where you are—if you are. Boundaries dissolve. You try to grasp yourself, your thoughts, but you slip away like sand—
And finally, you witness.
You shatter. You see atoms—perfect and complete. Electrons orbiting protons, their exact position. The quarks that make them up. You feel the shape of each one.
But then they’re not particles, they’re molecules—matter—solids, liquids, gasses. You feel every bond, every collision between them, but they’re not molecules, really, they’re collapsing into stars, and then planets and then galaxies—
You see it now, it’s the sun, your sun, your resplendent life-giver, it’s here with you, and it
collapses, again,
like each time before
and the light grows and swells until there is nothing, but the searing, white-hot light, consuming you, folding you—
And then it’s quiet.