Chapter Text
You kill the King with your own two hands, and it doesn’t save you.
A part of you knows the second his body hits the floor. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, you know it isn’t over. But you’re stupid, and you’re desperate, and you think you might be losing your mind, so you push it down. You ignore it. You tell yourself: you’ve done it. It’s over now. This was it, right?
This has to be it.
His blood pools around your feet, thick and dark. It smells sweet. For a second, you think you see a shade in it that shouldn’t exist — that visceral colour that heralds something breaking — but then you blink, and it’s gone.
He disappears slowly, his body dissolving first into light and then into nothing. It was always faster when Mirabelle killed him. She’s probably just better at it than you are. But it doesn’t matter— you’ve killed him yourself now, all on your own. Surely that was what the Universe wanted?
You’re
alone.
…You aren’t sure why he disappears when he dies. Maybe when the Wish Craft leaves, it takes all of him with it. When you finally die for good, will it take you, too?
Maybe it already has. You suppose you wouldn’t know.
You’re still covered in blood, the dark stains stark against your once-bright cloak and hat. They were ruined before you even entered the room. You can’t tell where his blood starts and yours ends.
You wipe your dagger against your cloak, darkening it further. It’s not like it matters. There’s no one here to see it, anyway.
…Ah. Actually, there is one person. You’d forgotten.
After all, it’s not over until you talk to her.
You stagger to the rooftop, slowed as if by Craft. You can hardly feel your legs; they carry you forward, led by the Universe, shaking. You don’t— You don’t want to talk to her. But you have to, don’t you? It’s not over until you talk to her, and it has to be over. Stars. It has to be over.
The sky outside is… wrong. This scene calls for daylight, but beyond the House of Change’s walls, the sky is an inky lightless void looming endlessly above you. You can’t even see the stars anymore.
The Head Housemaiden waits with her back turned, her hair bright like a beacon in the darkness. A long time ago, you were told you walked silently; you can’t do that anymore. Gravity betrays you, and your stumbling footsteps are too unsteady. She hears you coming.
She turns. Her eyes meet yours. And then—
“Oh,” she says, a hand over her mouth.
“Oh no,” she says, and the sky flashes a shade that isn’t bright or dark but visceral, broken, impossible.
“Oh no, no, no, no, no…” she says, and your stomach sinks, and you—
You… don’t need to hear the rest. You know how it goes already. You know, you know, you know.
You almost want to laugh.
Of course. Of course it isn’t over. Stupid. This is what the Universe wants!!! You, alone, suffering for all eternity!!! A perfect cosmic tragedy!!!!!!!!!
Loop was right. Of course they were. They knew all along.
It will never end. It will never stop. You will be here forever.
Stars.
You close your eye.
“I just hope that one day… You might learn to forgive—!”
(YOU FEEL A TUG ON YOUR STOMACH.)
◃◃
…And then you’re back.
(You can’t do this anymore.)
You
get up.
You ignore the housemaiden as you enter the village. You don’t even bother listening to her lines. You already know the important ones: You’re not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.
She doesn’t try to follow you.
The Change God statue watches you as you pass. You’re not looking at it, but you can feel their eyes burning into you, judging you. Not yours, not yours, not yours.
If the Universe is in the audience, It doesn’t make Itself known. But that’s fine. You know how to make It listen, now.
You need to go to the Favour Tree.
…Ah. That’s right.
You need to go to the Favour Tree, but the fighter is in the way. You stare at him until he leaves. Sure, he tries to talk to you first, but why should you listen? He never tells you anything that matters. He’s never been able to, and he never will. And so you wait.
You don’t actually have to wait that long. He’s a coward, after all. Eventually, he gives up. He always does.
And then he’s gone.
You walk up to the tree.
Loop isn’t looking at you. Their hands are clenched tightly in their lap, a poor imitation of their usual pose, and they refuse to meet your eye.
“You were right,” you say. They flinch. “I killed the King myself, and it didn’t work. Just like you said.”
Their fingers twist. “Stardust…”
“You knew.” You take a step forward. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you? You’ve always known.”
You asked them this before, in your last loop, but it’s different, now. At least then you still had one last thread to hold onto, one last thing to try, one last useless hope. Now you’re left with nothing.
“You knew about the loops. Even before I knew what was going on, you knew,” you continue. “You knew where all the keys were, and where all the switches were, and which paths led to dead ends.”
You take another step.
“You knew about the equipment, that it would loop back with me once I found it. You knew the others would never remember. You knew, and you chose not to tell me, that defeating the King wouldn’t end it. Because you didn’t have the heart to.”
You’re right in front of them now, close enough to touch. They still won’t look at you.
“You knew that watching them die would make me loop,” you say. “You knew that being loved wouldn’t save me—”
“No!!!” They finally look at you, their eyes flying up to yours, wide and desperate. Their hands fall to their sides as they grip the tree root. “I didn’t know that, I— I told you, I wanted that to be the answer! I really did! I don’t know what stops the loops, but there has to be something, or else…!”
They stop suddenly, freezing in place. Then, slowly, they sit back, looking away again.
Your voice stays even. “‘Or else’?”
“…I was sent here to help,” they say, quiet. “If there’s no way out, why would the Universe bring me here…?”
The star over their chest flickers. Their fingers dig into the bark. You realise, in a detached sort of way, that they’re afraid.
Ha. They should be.
“No,” you say. You take one final step forward. Your body looms over theirs. “There’s no way out, Loop. There never was. And you knew it all along.”
“…Stardust, I—”
You don’t let them finish.
Anger is a strange thing. It comes in different forms— sometimes in firey heat, sometimes in frigid cold. You can’t remember a time you weren’t angry.
When you last spoke to Loop, your anger was like a burning star in your chest, blazing outwards and consuming everything in its path. Now, all that’s left is ice.
Cold. Numb. Empty.
You grab Loop by the shoulders and throw them to the ground.
“AH—!”
They fall onto their back in the grass with a yelp, landing roughly. You jump on them before they get a chance to recover.
“What else is there?” you demand, pushing them back against the dirt. Your face hovers inches from theirs, their light searing your eye, but you don’t dare avert your gaze. “What else aren’t you telling me?!”
They don’t answer. They’re breathing heavily, though you’re not convinced they really need to— if you thought they did, your hands would already be around their neck. But they’re angry, trying to push you away, so you grab them by the wrists and wrestle them down, until they’re pinned to the ground either side of their head.
They struggle, of course, but you don’t budge. Your hands are like iron clamped around their wrists. They stare back at you furiously.
They still haven’t answered you.
You lean in closer, gritting your teeth. “Tell me,” you hiss. “I know you’re hiding something. I’m not blinding stupid, Loop! What else is there?!”
“Curse you, stardust, you don’t just get to—”
“WHAT ELSE?!”
They shudder, the light of their head flaring. Their hands curl into fists.
“…I don’t know,” they say. “I don’t know how to break the loops. I don’t even know if it’s possible. I wanted to believe it was, but…”
They’re looking away from you again. You tighten your grip, digging your nails into their strange, starry flesh. You hope they can feel it through your gloves.
“…But there’s another way out, isn’t there.” You’re not asking. It isn’t a question. “Because you found it, didn’t you, ‘Loop’? You didn’t ask the Universe to bring you here for my sake. You did it for you.”
You’ve suspected it for a while, but you’d always tried not to think about it. You don’t think you can ignore it, now. It dawns on you slowly, your heart sinking with realisation and dread. You don’t want to be right. But—
“You just wanted out,” you breathe. “You were trapped too, weren’t you?”
They squeeze their eyes shut. It’s enough of an answer for you.
Stars.
You breathe slowly, in and out. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.
It’s not a way out of the loops. But it’s a way out of this role, isn’t it? It’s still some sort of escape, isn’t it? If it was enough for Loop, it could be enough for you, too.
And… if they were trapped like you, if they… were you… but now they’re not, and now you’re here, you’re the one suffering instead of them, because of something they did, because of something they wished for, then…
Then that means this is their fault. You’re here because of them.
They did this to you.
Slowly, you let go of their wrists. They don’t try to move yet, just watching you warily.
“Stardust…?”
You remember a dream you had once, a long time ago. Back when all of this started.
The star over their chest pulses like a heartbeat.
“…What are you—”
You take out your dagger.
Their eyes widen immediately, their body tensing beneath you. Their hands fly up to shield themself as they try desperately to push you away, but you ignore them. You place your other hand over their collarbone and force them flat against the ground.
“No, no, no, stardust, don’t—!!!”
They kick their legs, they tear and claw at your arms, but you won’t let them escape. Not now.
You stab the knife into their chest.
And they scream.
It’s an awful, wretched thing— a primal roar that hardly sounds human. The light of their head burns bright and blinding like a supanova, until you can’t even see their eyes anymore. You don’t let it stop you.
You drag the knife down. There’s no blood, just a deep, glowing cut left in its wake. The resistance isn’t quite what you’d expected; it’s like carving through clay.
They’re still screaming. You feel nothing.
Your dagger traces the outline of the star slowly, carefully separating light from dark. You ignore their futile attempts to pry your hands away. They’re getting weaker now, in any case. You guess that’s just what happens when someone carves out your heart.
You draw the dagger through their chest with steady force, until finally, it finds its way back up to the star’s first, northern point. That should do it, you think.
Satisfied, you discard your dagger, flinging it aside to keep it out of Loop’s reach. And then—
They grab your hand.
“P-Please, stardust,” they whisper, breathless. Their voice is ragged. “Don’t… Don’t do this.”
You pause.
You can see their eyes again, no longer hidden by blinding light. They’re starting to dim now, as if they’ve burned themself out. Their hand trembles as it grips yours, and their eyebrows are pinched together with pain, but that expression… They’re not afraid. Not of you.
They’re trying to warn you.
. . .
You’ve had enough of this.
You rip your hand out of theirs and plunge it into their chest.
Once more, they try to fight you, but it’s hopeless. You’ve already made up your mind. Your fingers wrap around the star, the light warm and tingling against your fingertips, and you hold onto it tightly. You hardly even notice the way Loop gasps as your fist clenches around it.
You brace your other hand against them, holding them steady. You breathe.
And then, in one clean, decisive motion—
You rip the star out of their chest.
Loop falls limp.
…They’re not dead, you don’t think. Not yet. You’re not sure how, but you can tell.
Their skin still sparks and fizzles, but their body is motionless, like a puppet cut from its strings. Their once-bright head darkens into a featureless, lightless void. It reminds you of… something. You don’t remember.
It doesn’t matter.
You hold the star gently in your cupped hands, watching it glow and flicker. It’s not entirely solid, but it’s warm. Alive. There’s something so familiar about it…
…Ah. You understand, now.
This is a star, it’s Loop’s heart, but it’s something else, too.
This is a wish in your hands. It whispers:
Please let it be over.
Please get me out of here.
Please, someone, help me.
Please help me.
Please help me.
Please help me!
Someone, anyone, please!
I wish someone would help me!
You open your mouth, and swallow it whole.