Chapter Text
The Orb is a familiar weight in your hands.
You stare up at the House’s Gate, gripping the Orb tightly so your hands don’t shake. It’s been so long since you’ve seen it with your own two— your own one eye. Whatever. Point is, it’s been a while!!! Since you’ve been here!!! You used to tell yourself you’d never set foot back into this place, but. Well.
Here you are.
You present your Orb alongside the others and watch as they unlock the Gate. The doors creak open slowly, painfully, revealing the frozen darkness within. You don’t want to do this. You do it anyway.
You’re playing the leader again, so you take the first step in. And it’s… fine. It’s just a hallway. Frozen in time and with Sadnesses looming in the shadows, sure, but you’re used to that. Or you used to be, anyway. So you can just get used to it again! It’s fine.
This is only temporary. Just get it over with.
You indulge the Housemaiden — Mirabelle, her name is Mirabelle, you remember all of their names so you should use them — with the tutorial. You don’t need it, you’re not that far gone, but it makes for a decent enough distraction.
The Sadnesses on the first floor are weak, but they won’t stay that way. You think you can be forgiven a bit for stalling. After all, you’re running on no sleep, you’re out of practice, and you’ve spent so much time zoning out that you’ve forgotten how to be truly present. You can’t even look at the others without your chest aching, and you’re devoting so much energy to keeping your smile on that you can barely think about anything else. There’s no way this is going to go well.
You wonder how many times you’ll die before reaching the King.
In the spirit of being normal, you don’t immediately find the room with the key first. You veer off to the left instead, and poke around in the room with the supplies as if you’ve never been here before in your life.
There’s nothing particularly useful in here, but a normal non-looping Siffrin wouldn’t know that. You try to act surprised when the Kid — Bonnie Bonnie Bonnie — swipes the tonics from your hands. You didn’t even really want them; it’s just what you do when there’s tonics in the House. Siffrin’s the one who finds them, and Bonnie’s the one who keeps them safe. That’s just how it goes.
As usual, conversations follow. They’re all ones you’ve heard before, but the memories are distant, so you try to listen to them again.
…Apparently you made a ‘Super Potion’ once. You know it from the script, but you have no memory of it ever actually happening. Does your stardust remember? Or is it gone for them, too?
You’ll drive yourself crazy asking these same questions over and over, but you suppose you passed that point long ago.
In the other room, you just so happen to find the key! Wow! What a coincidence! You don’t ask about the circles on the keychain. You don’t think you could handle it. You move on swiftly, ignoring the broken statue of the Change God that lurks menacingly in the corner of your vision, and head back out into the central room.
The convenient little star you made to assist your stardust is still there, glowing softly in the middle of the room. You still don’t know how exactly you did it— only that the Universe led you to, somehow, with the powers it lent you from your wish. A save point wasn’t really what you had in mind when you begged for help, but you brush your fingers against it anyway as you pass.
It’s warm. Gentler than you expected. You’ve hardly taken any damage yet, but it heals you anyway, and you can feel the world settle into place in a way you can’t quite describe. It feels… safe, almost? You suppose that’s why it’s called a save point, whatever that actually means.
How lucky, for your stardust to have had access to this the entire time! If it weren’t for you, they’d have to struggle the same way you did, never knowing how much easier it could’ve been. A little appreciation would be nice, but it seems all you get is a knife to the chest instead. Figures.
You’re pretty much done here, so you unlock the door, walk through the hallway, and—
“W-WAIT—”
—!!!
(YOU FEEL A TUG ON YOUR HEART.)
◃◃
…You were crushed by a rock.
. . .
“Ah!” Mirabelle startles. “S-Siffrin, what are you laughing at? What’s so funny???”
You don’t answer.
You can’t answer, because you’re too busy wheezing, doubled over yourself as you laugh hysterically. The trap!!! You forgot about the blinding trap!!! You made fun of your stardust the first time he died to it, and laughed about it privately to yourself any time they forgot about it in subsequent loops— and now you’ve gone and done the exact same thing!!! Stars!!!
It’s hilarious. It’s slapstick, a perfect dramatic irony! You have to laugh about it, because if you don’t, you’ll have to think about how blindingly stupid you are!!! It’s your only option!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!
“Sif?”
Haaahh… Okay, that’s enough. Pull yourself together.
You straighten up, wiping tears from your eye. Whoopsies! That’s not normal~!
You’re met with stares and confusion from the others, but the Fighter — Isabeau!!! — just grins at you. “Thought of something funny, Sif? You want to share with the class?”
Quick, think of a joke!!!
…You haven’t told a joke in so long, you’ve forgotten how to do it. You can’t think of anything.
Steal one of his lines instead. “I’ll tell you later~,” you say with a wink. You won’t, obviously, but he’ll never tell you anything either, so it’s fine.
(Ignore the way he blushes at the wink. It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know.)
(You hate yourself, but you hate your stardust more.)
“This is dumb,” Bonnie announces. “You’re dumb. Come on come on let’s go!!!”
“You heard the preteen,” Odile says. “Let’s stop wasting time.”
Finally, someone agrees with you. You move on.
When you re-enter the Death Corridor, you see it immediately. The sparkles are impossible to ignore, twinkling brightly in the corner of your eye over the pillar that you know has the switch, okay, you know, you’ve done this hundreds of times more than he ever did— and you’re certain he’s doing it on purpose. Your little sparkles were subtle. Helpful. These are petty and obnoxious.
But hey, that means they’ve figured out how to use your star powers! The ones they stole from you! Awww. You’re soooo proud of him.
Stars. It’s not like he never forgot about the trap, either. You Siffrins are useless at remembering things. He should know that by now!!! As if the entire reason you’re back here isn’t their blinding fault in the first place—
Breathe. It’s fine.
You smooth your glare back out into a smile and flip the switch.
There’s a House to explore.
It would be easy to zone out through the rest of the first floor — though you haven’t been here yourself in an eternity, the only thing you really need to worry about is keeping Isabeau from walking into any Tears — but there is something here you need to see for yourself. Something you were never able to do in your own loops.
You don’t even know if it’ll work. Knowing the Universe and its apparent disdain for you, you’d be surprised if it does, but—
“Stostorage roomoom,” you mutter. The door clicks open.
You rush straight to the bookcase, scanning the titles. There’s the books in Vaugardian, Poterian, Mwudu, and…
There. Your breath catches in your chest.
Wish Craft: Theory and Application, by… someone whose name you can’t make out. But you can read the title. It’s written in your language, and you’ve never been able to read it before, but you can read it now.
Your hands shake as you take the book off the shelf and start to flip through it. You still can’t forgive the Universe for all it’s done to you, but… for this, perhaps, you can make an exception.
Thank you, you mouth silently. Thank you. Thank you.
“Siffrin? What are you looking at?”
Having an audience is starting to get exhausting. You turn to the Housemaiden, forcing your hands to still. “It’s a book on something called Wish Craft,” you say with false cheer. “I think it’s what gave the King power over Time Craft! Doesn’t that sound useful?”
The Fighter jolts. “Oh crab!!!”
“Really?” Her eyes widen. “That… would be very, very useful, yes!!!”
“Interesting…” The Researcher — ODILE — holds out her palm. “May I see?”
She won’t be able to read it, but you hand it to her anyway.
Her eyes squint as she examines the book. “…How are you even reading this.”
“Letters bad,” Bonnie says, peeking over her shoulder.
“I can’t read it at all,” Isabeau agrees.
“I’ve never even heard of Wish Craft. Are you sure it’s real?”
It’s not your line yet, so you stay silent, but you can’t help but bristle. What do they know? You don’t belittle their languages or cultures. Why is it only different when it’s yours?
…You know why. But that hurts too much to think about, so you push it down. You’ll forget about it soon enough, anyway.
Keep smiling, Siffrin.
“—translate you what you can, Sif?”
Ah, you almost missed your cue! You nod and flip back to the first page.
Translating a text like this is more difficult than you’d expected. There’s a lot of technical Craft-related terminology here that you don’t recognise, so you couldn’t even begin to guess at their Vaugardian equivalents; you’re able to stumble your way around them with context clues, but it’s clumsy. It’s a miracle Odile and Isabeau are able to follow at all.
The essay isn’t particularly long, but it is dense. It takes you a while to get through it all, and a little while longer for Odile and Isabeau to summarise it in layman’s terms. None of it is entirely new information at this point, but…
Rituals and intent. Those have to be the key, you know they do! There has to be some connection you’re missing. Maybe if you find those other books on Wish Craft, read them for yourself… Maybe you can find something your stardust didn’t?
The chances are slim, but you might as well give it a try while you’re here. You’ve got nothing but time.
The rest of the first floor goes as expected. You fight the Sadness to get the Star Crest, go down to the kitchen for the key, bump into the stupid blinding counter and make a stupid blinding noise and definitely don’t have a crisis about it, and then you go across to the other side. You pick up the sharpening stone from the armoury, but you’re careful not to acknowledge any weapons or equipment you come across. The Kid already has their wok. The Housemaiden already has her sword. You can’t let them notice anything amiss.
The candlemaker’s bedroom has a Craftonomy book you’d like to read. It doesn’t have anything about Wish Craft, but it does have a section on Time Craft. You get Odile to read this one too, just to brush up on the basics.
Crafting time… Stopping it, like the King does, or rewinding it, like you do. There are other possibilities, like speeding time up or slowing it down, but… you don’t know how any of those would help you here, even if you could find some way to wield it.
You know that Wish Craft is what allows you and the King to use Time Craft without dying. If you’re understanding it correctly, you’re not using your own Craft to loop, but rather channelling the Universe’s. Is that why it hates you? Did you take too much? Its power should be infinite, but that doesn’t mean you deserve even a fraction of its eternity.
Trying to wish for even more control over Time Craft would probably just lead to even worse consequences. You’ve been too greedy. The Universe led you here, yes, but you must have followed it wrong, and now you’re stuck here. Wishing again won’t get you out of this!!!
Still, learning more about it won’t hurt, right?
…It hits you when you enter the next room.
Learning more about Wish Craft and Time Craft might be useful to you, but it’s also useful to the Researcher. The more she knows about it, the closer she’ll get to figuring out the truth. And you!!! REALLY don’t want to deal with that right now!!!
So, even though it’s a waste of time, you don’t go straight for the key in the drawer. You make a show of looking around the room, inspecting everything one-by-one, starting with the articles about the King. You want to tear them to shreds, but… doing it yourself, without any kind of warning, would only make you look even more suspicious.
You turn to the Kid instead, holding out a page with a large illustration on it.
“Hey Bonnie,” you say. “Want to practice beating up the King?”
Their eyes go wide. “CAN I?!”
You hand them the page. They crumple it up, then rip it into pieces and throw them on the floor, stomping on them violently. The other adults in the room watch on fondly as the King articles are thoroughly destroyed.
Ha. Yeah, that’s satisfying.
One key and several scripted-as-usual conversations later, you’re finally done with the first floor. The Sadness behind these doors will be your first real test to gauge how rusty your combat skills have gotten; all the others you’ve encountered so far have been far too weak.
The Sadness with the big ball head comes into view. You don’t even remember fighting this one yourself, but although it’s nothing compared to the King, it’s still tall and intimidating enough to pose a decent threat. You get into formation with the others, ready your attacking stance, and…
…And it’s fine. Easy, even. The Sadness barely puts up a fight before it’s over.
You breathe in, and out.
You timed it well enough that the others shouldn’t notice, but your attacks are still so much stronger than theirs. In some ways, this is a good thing; it means the gap between you and your stardust isn’t as big as you thought it was. You’re not back to square one! Your fighting experience is distant, but you haven’t forgotten it all. All you need is a little more practice, and you’ll be ready.
But.
You… don’t like how weak everyone else feels to you, now. It isn’t right. It forces you to remember: You aren’t one of them. You’ll never belong with them again.
You aren’t theirs.
The House is cold. It’s frozen only in time, but it feels like there’s ice clinging to your bones, settling in your lungs and freezing you inside out.
You rub at your chest. It doesn’t help.
Keep moving.
You pick the onigiri at snack time. The apple filling isn’t particularly appetising, but when your other options are plantain chips and cookies, you don’t really have a choice. You’ve had enough sweetness to last you a lifetime, and the chips just remind you of seeing your stardust’s brains splattered on the ground. Gross.
At least the rice is tasty. If you make sure to eat it separately from the apple, it’s not a bad snack. Still tastes familiar, though.
. . .
‘We’re not friends, we’re associates… Allies at best,’ Odile had said. Your stardust is such an idiot. He should’ve known better than to take those words at face value. It’s so obvious, seeing it now, that this is simply her idea of a joke. And in a way, it is funny, isn’t it?
(You should’ve known better than to take them for granted.)
The script doesn’t really care if you talk to everyone afterwards, so you avoid Isabeau and Bonnie. Their conversations here are too emotionally fraught. But you tell Mirabelle the botched plum joke to cheer her up a bit, and Odile… you need to check. She’s always the first one to notice if you’ve acted too weird.
…She’s worried she offended Bonnie. Thank the stars. You can hardly believe it, but you’ve somehow managed to avoid her suspicions thus far.
Onto the second floor.
You spend far too long in the Head Housemaiden’s mess of an office, only to turn up nothing your stardust hasn’t already found. The room is an absolute disaster; for every useful piece of information, there’s at least a dozen more that are utterly irrelevant, and none of it is organised in a way that makes any kind of sense. You’ve never met this woman in your life, but between her office and the flashes you’ve seen of her through your stardust’s eye, you’re really beginning to hate her.
The secret library, thankfully, has a little more to offer.
First, the book on Wish Craft rituals. This one’s much easier to translate than the essay, since it’s written in plain— OW, your head— since it’s written in your language plainly, without any overly-technical terms you were presumably too young or too dumb to have ever learned.
It details a variety of ritual methods, most of which seem pretty obvious to you. From rituals for granting small wishes, like plucking four-leaf clovers or blowing out dandelions, to more potent ones, like making an offering to a wishing well or calling out to a shooting star… You’re intimately familiar with the latter. The book doesn’t mention that starlight tastes like molten sugar, and you’re not going to bring it up, but you know! You know.
And then, of course, the one that started it all. The reason you’re here. Your salvation, your prison, your grave.
“Favour Tree what now?”
“THE FAVOUR TREES CAN GRANT WISHES?!?!?”
“FAVOUR TREES LIKE THE ONE IN DORMONT?!?!”
“THE ONE EVERYONE ASKED THINGS TO?!?”
The very one!
You put on a mask of surprise to match the others. Pretending to think for a moment, you ask, “What did you all wish for?”
The usual answers follow. Odile wished to win a coin flip — which she apparently lost this loop, though you weren’t paying attention — and Bonnie wished for their sister to be okay. Mirabelle wished for Vaugarde to be saved, just like the hundreds of others all around the country. And Isabeau…
“I, um, didn’t wish for anything,” he admits.
As always.
He made a wish in your stardust’s final loop, though. You were there for that. He wished to find them, to help them, to save them— and he did it wrong, so it’s no wonder he didn’t make it in time. Even with your help, they were all too late in the end. So even if he had made a wish this time, you doubt it would’ve made a difference.
He doesn’t know that, though. “Yeah, I’m kinda bummed I didn’t wish for anything now,” he laments. “Why didn’t I clap my hands and wish for something…”
And there’s your line. Act surprised. “Clap your hands?”
“Uh, yeah? That’s how you ask a favour to the Favour Trees,” he says. “You look at the tree, and clap your hands once, and say aloud whatever you ask for…”
The others affirm this, even though it’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. So, copying your stardust’s words, you explain.
“You choose a leaf, to represent yourself.”
You think… it was a small one, you’re pretty sure. Curled up a little at the edges. Why can you remember it so clearly…?
“You breathe your wish into it, to make a link between you and whatever you’re wishing to.”
You hadn’t thought of the Universe by name at the time, but even back then, you knew it was listening. You just didn’t think it would hate you the way it does now.
“You repeat your wish three times…”
It could have been any number, but threes always felt best to you. Solid, stable. Did that make a difference? Should you have picked something else?
“…And then you fold the wish into the leaf, to tether the link between you and the wish.”
And seal the door to your own cage in the process.
When Odile eventually asks what you wished for, your answer is easy. You never went to the Favour Tree this loop, so you didn’t wish for anything! As far as she’s concerned, anyway.
But it’s far from the real truth. You did make a wish, a long, long, long time ago. The Universe knows, and it keeps its score.
You don’t remember exactly what you wished for at the Favour Tree. You vaguely remember the options you’d narrowed it down to, though: to keep travelling with Mirabelle, to wear clothes made by Isabeau, to visit Ka Bue with Odile, to see Bonnie reunite with their sister. Your stardust went with the latter, so maybe you did too? Or maybe your paths had already diverged by that point, and you ended up picking a different one… But it doesn’t really matter. The gist is the same, and you wanted them all equally. You just wanted to stay with them.
And then you gave up on that wish! Destroyed it as thoroughly as you destroyed yourself! And what was the point in keeping it, anyway? None of those pitiful little wishes came true. They all hinged on a future that would never arrive.
(Didn’t they…?)
It doesn’t matter. You have a new wish, now. You just need to get it back.
Hopefully this next book can help you with that.
You find the section on Craft skills and look through the shelves carefully. You don’t get far before Odile interrupts.
“Siffrin? Are you looking for something in particular?”
Ah, yes, you remember how this part goes, too. “How do you Craft shields?”
“Like, shields in battle?” Isabeau asks. “To protect ourselves? It would be useful, wouldn’t it… We have skills to boost our defence, but a shield would be cool.”
“I-I was thinking about learning! And I feel like I’m close to getting it!!!” Mirabelle says. “But... I’m not there yet. Sorry.”
Bonnie points at the shelf, right at the book you need. “This book here is just called ‘Shields,’ and it’s super dusty. Dusty books are good, right?”
“Well, that’s not how it works, but…”
She takes the book from their hand and starts to read. You try to take a look over her shoulder, but… you don’t understand anything it’s saying. You see the CARROT method mentioned, but that’s about the most you can catch.
Mirabelle seems to make sense of it, though. “Wait… Wait a second. THAT’S ALL?!?!? THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT?!??!”
“Ah.”
“Oh, this sounds fun.”
She mumbles under her breath for a while, until finally she says, “Okay, so… Siffrin, do NOT move. I’m about to try a highly volatile Craft Skill on you that I’ve never tried before.”
You already know it’ll be fine. Obediently, you hold still.
A warm feeling settles over you gently, like a blanket being wrapped around you. Ah… So this is what her shield spell feels like. You’ve never felt anything like it, but it’s nice! It feels safe. You aren’t used to that.
And then Bonnie punches you in the stomach.
“…Owie,” they say.
Everyone stares at you.
“Siffrin, did you feel something…?”
You didn’t! You knew you weren’t going to, but it’s still a strange sensation. Not unpleasant, though. You give a thumbs up.
“CRAB YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!”
Your little Housemaiden now knows Adorable Moving Shield, your brain supplies. It’s just a memory; you don’t hear anything from your stardust. Is he watching, you wonder? Probably. You doubt they have anything better to do. You certainly didn’t.
Now that that’s sorted, it’s your turn. “So how does it work?”
“Oh, that’s easy!” Mirabelle says cheerfully. “It’s all about—”
She bombards you with technical terms, which you barely even bother listening to. You saw the book already. You know you don’t stand a chance.
“—and that’s how you do it!!!”
“I did not understand even a little bit of this,” Odile says.
Isabeau hums in thought. “I couldn’t Craft a skill like that myself, but… but it’s just about using the CARROT method, right?”
“Is it? I guess that makes some sort of sense…”
“It is!” Mirabelle says. “They actually mention it in here too!”
Bonnie frowns. “What’s the CARROT method.”
Odile smirks at them. “If you don’t know the CARROT method, you don’t need to know the CARROT method.”
They pout. Under your cloak, you clench your fists.
“But wouldn’t it be useful if more than one of us could Craft a shield?” you suggest, keeping your tone light. It’s not in the script, but you need to know. “I’d like to learn, too!”
“Um…” Mirabelle pauses. “Well, I could try to teach you, but if you’ve never used the CARROT method before it… might be kind of hard???”
“Yeah, even if you know the theory it’s a pretty specialised skill!” Isabeau says. “Like, I know how it’s supposed to work, but I could never get the hang of it. Actually Crafting something like that is a lot harder than it looks!”
“And it would require a lot of practice to learn from scratch… That’s time that we don’t have,” Odile agrees.
But it’s time you have! You can practice it over and over and over, as many times as you need!
“I’m a fast learner,” you insist. “Just… tell me what the CARROT method is, at least?”
Mirabelle looks to the side. “Well, um… it stands for Craftonomical Application of Reflection, Refraction, Obstruction and Transmutation. It’s about cycling the Craft through yourself as a conduit, and then…”
She’s still talking, but you can’t focus on her words. They might as well be gibberish to you. You know Vaugardian, don’t you? It’s not your first language, but you always considered yourself fluent in it.
You feel so stupid.
“…I can sense we’ve lost you,” Odile says. “I’d offer to help, but I only know the Ka Buan terms for this branch of Craftonomy, so I doubt you’d find that any more useful…”
Isabeau smiles at you. It’s probably meant to be reassuring. “Don’t feel bad though, Sif! Like we said, this stuff’s pretty specialised, it’s perfectly normal not to get it!”
“Why do you need to learn, anyway? Belle’s already got it,” Bonnie says.
They don’t understand, they can’t understand!!! You aren’t worried about the King. You know Mirabelle’s shield is enough for that, but she won’t be there when you take your wish back! You need to do it yourself, and if you’re not strong enough, he’ll just kill you again, so if you could just figure out the blinding shield, then—
Mirabelle bites her lip. “…Siffrin, I know I’m not the strongest, b-but I promise, I’ll be able to keep you all safe—”
Stars. Now look what you’ve done. Stupid, useless, disgusting.
“It’s fine,” you say. Remember to smile. Don’t upset her any further. “We’ll beat the King with your shield, Mirabelle! I’m sure of it.”
She looks back at you, wide eyed. Finally, she says, “…Okay.”
The stupid useless shield book gets put back on the shelf. It’s not fair to call it that, not when you’re the one who’s too dumb to get it, but you don’t care.
You leave the library. Nothing more to do here.
You pass the gardening room again on the way back, and decide it would be too risky to skip it. You’ve deviated too badly from the script now; you can’t act like you know where you’re going.
As you pass through the narrow squeeze, you’re so, so careful. It’s close, but no one touches you.
Like you’re not even here.
Before long, you’re at the next crest Sadness’s room. The Nostalgie. It doesn’t put up too much of a fight, but even so, it makes you uncomfortable. You can’t describe why. Something about it just puts you on edge.
You kill it anyway, get the crest, and side with the Beauty Alliance to go down for the key. You make sure to grab the extra key from the classroom, too. Can’t forget about that!
And then finally, blessedly, you’re done.
Past the dual boss Sadnesses that lie behind the locked door, you sit in the safe room with the others as the Kid prepares some snacks.
Isabeau asks about grave rituals. You aren’t sure how to answer. Bonnie is listening.
“I’ll never die,” you decide on. It’s true; the Universe won’t let you. “None of us will! We have Mirabelle’s shield skill, don’t we? So we’ll be fine!”
Hm. You had meant for it to be encouraging, but now she only looks more anxious.
Stars, you’re bad at this.
When the snacks are ready, you take the fish head. It still tastes like how you remember… it’s comforting, somehow. Your eye gets a little blurry as you eat, but you manage to stop any tears from falling. You’re lucky no one notices.
The conversations with everyone afterwards aren’t an issue. You remind Mirabelle to stop biting her nails, get teased by Isabeau, and make sure Odile still isn’t too suspicious of you. It’s all the same scripted lines, and none of it means anything, so it’s fine.
As for Bonnie, though…
…You should talk to them. Even if it hurts, even if they won’t remember when all of this is over— you can’t leave them worrying like this. You had urged your stardust to talk to them, so you’d be a hypocrite if you didn’t do it too.
You sit down next to them. They pretend not to notice.
“I meant what I said back there,” you tell them.
They look away, a half-eaten pineapple slice gripped in their hand. Deadly juice drips through their fingers.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they say. “I wasn’t listening, earlier.”
“Sure,” you allow. “But, even if you were… You should know that adults can be dumb, too. The others are just worried. But they don’t need to be.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I do.” When they glance back at you, you make sure to give them your best, fakest smile. “No one’s getting hurt today! No one except the King.”
You’ll kill him, you’ll kill him, you’ll make it hurt.
“You promise?”
“Yes.” You take a deep breath. “I super duper promise, Bonnie.”
They pause. “…Okay,” they say. They grin at you, determined. “Okay! If you promise, it’ll have to come true!!! So don’t break your promise, Frin!!!”
Hah. “I won’t,” you say.
You stand up, brush the dust off your cloak. See? That was fine! It’s not so bad talking to them all, as long as you pretend.
All too soon, you’re out of time. Everyone’s beginning to stand up and gather their things; you can’t stall anymore.
It’s time for the third floor.
You remember the House’s third floor from your own loops, but your memory of it is so, so different from the reality you see in front of you now. It had confused you for the longest time, to the extent you’d started to question your own sanity. Why was it so different? Did you just remember it wrong? Or did your wish destroy more than you thought it did, forcing the Universe to rebuild itself from the ground up? You always tried not to think about it, but it was hard to ignore.
It wasn’t until you saw your stardust’s solo trek through the House in that last, awful loop that you’d started to develop a new theory.
There were little signs all the way along: the Sadnesses appearing on the wrong floors, the ghosts, even the equipment glitching out of existence after he’d picked them up. The longer they looped, the more the Universe broke apart, piece by piece, until even the layout of the House started to twist and distort into something new. It was like what the King had done, but in slow motion— changing reality a little bit more with each loop, pushing the Universe to its limit.
Is that what you did? Did you spend so much time looping that you twisted the world into something unrecognisable, so slowly you didn’t even notice it happening?
How long were you really trapped there…?
You suppose it doesn’t matter. It seems all the damage has been reset now, so it’s fine. This floor barely resembles the prison you remember anymore.
The King’s hair blocks the way forward, as always. You wonder if the Change God will give you the Keyknife to cut it with, or if you’ll have to find a source of fire to burn it like you used to.
You guess you’ll find out! Is that exciting…? No, you don’t think it is, but you’ll take what you can get.
First up is the mirror room.
You squint at the floor as you approach, looking for the key. You know it has to be in here somewhere… Ugh, no, it’s way too dark in here. This won’t work. You’ll need the light from the mirror to spot it. As always, the script doesn’t tolerate changes.
The scene is already playing out. Everyone talks as Isabeau gets into position, poking around for the switch. You need to pay attention.
You look up.
The others are peering at the mirror curiously. You can see their faces reflected back at you, everyone perfectly in frame. The Kid, the Researcher, the Fighter, the Housemaiden; Bonnie, Odile, Isabeau, Mirabelle.
And there, standing in the middle—
Oh. Hm.
This is weird.
When you first met your stardust face-to-face, it had surprised you how wrong they looked. You kept catching yourself thinking their eyepatch was on the wrong side. It never was, of course; you had only ever seen that face in a mirror, so you weren’t used to seeing it the way everyone else would have.
But now…
. . .
When Odile hands you the picture, Siffrin’s face is the right way around again. It seems the mirror corrects for it when it Crafts the photograph. Isn’t that nice?
You pocket the photo.
Now that you can see where the key is, you take it and cross back over to the other side of the floor. You remember to grab the bomb piece from Mirabelle’s bedroom, take the angry key from the Changing room, and…
Yeah, why not. There’s no real reason to do this, but you think you deserve to see it yourself, just the once.
You lead everyone up to the big star door.
Back when you were simply watching from the Favour Tree, you were never able to make out what the text above the door said. You were always curious, but even after your stardust had learned to read it, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.
But you can read it now.
…It’s asking a question. You answer it aloud.
The door opens.
“Huh…? What did you say, Sif?”
“I couldn’t hear it either… Did you say something…?”
You go inside.
Phew, the dust is thick in here! You can hardly breathe. Barring time loops, it must be the first time anyone’s opened this door in at least ten years? Or was it twelve? Fifteen? a long time.
There’s an object in the centre of the room. You walk up to it. It’s so dusty…
“What is this?”
“It has lots of balls attached to it.”
“And there’s a lever, here… If we turn it, seems the balls will move around this big middle ball.”
You drag a finger through the dust. It leaves a deep line in its wake.
“Does it represent something? It looks familiar somehow…”
“Yes, I feel like I’ve seen something like this before…”
He’d called it an orrery.
…You don’t want to explain it. You move on.
The starry hat is back in the drawer. Maybe Siffrin’s equipment got reset because you weren’t the exact one who picked them up, this time? You never bothered checking, but you don’t seem to have the garden scissors either. Not that it’s your preferred weapon to use anyway…
You put the hat back in the drawer. Don’t need it. You’re still getting reacquainted with this one.
Mirabelle’s looking at the old diary, and you realise with mild alarm that you really, really don’t want to hear that story right now. The idea makes you feel kind of sick, actually! So you agree with Odile when she insists you don’t have time, and leave the book safely behind you.
There… isn’t really anything else to do in here. The books on the shelf are too old and fragile to touch, and the telescope is broken, and…
“Huh, I guess there’s nothing sharp in here we can use!” you say to your audience. “Oh well! Let’s keep going!!!”
Was that too out of character? Whatever, you don’t care. You zone out as the others respond, leading them away from the dusty room. The air is clearer out in the hallway, but your lungs don’t feel any lighter.
What a waste of time.
The rest is painfully simple.
Fight the Sadness, get the crest. Don’t think about the stench. If you never smell anything sweet ever again, it’ll be too soon. Ignore the pain it radiates, push back the faded memories at the corners of your brain, forget you ever felt the ache. Its name is Nostalgie, and it knows you well, but you won’t fall for it. Not today.
Pick up the crest. Don’t take it to the observatory, don’t take it to the observatory, don’t take it to the observatory—
You use the crest on the correct row of tears. Of course you do. You’re a stars-damned professional.
Proceed to the next room. Pretend it was mere coincidence you found the key you needed on the previous floor. Unlock the door, pass through the hallways, defeat the Sadnesses as you pass. Hardly even notice the effort.
With every step, get a little bit closer to the end.
…But first, bathroom time.
The Fighter Isabeau needs to go, as always. You go in, too. You don’t actually need to, of course, you never do, but…
Finally, for the first time in hours, you’re alone.
Your smile drops. You lean against the stall’s door. You’re not going to monologue, you’ve done more than enough of that today— but there is something that’s nagging at you.
It’s a dumb idea, but you do it anyway. It’s not like you have anything to lose!
You make the fourth Craft sign, holding it up to the side of your head with your thumb by your ear and your pinky by your mouth. There was a joke to this, some secret cosmic knowledge that the Universe had lent you, but you can’t remember what it means anymore. You wonder if your stardust would know, now.
Speaking of stardust…
You sure wish you could talk to them right now!
The Craft rings out. After a brief moment, you hear his voice in your head.
[Hello hello, your helpful sponsor speaking!]
You hate when they steal your lines.
“Have you been watching?” you hiss.
[While you’re in the bathroom? No, that’s gross.]
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
[…Of course I’ve been watching,] he says. [That’s my job now, isn’t it?]
Not for long it isn’t. “Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed the show, stardust! It’ll be the last time you’ll ever see it!”
[…Pfft. Sure, Loop.]
[Good luck against the K—!]
You hang up before they can finish.
…Well, now you know that still works! Cool! Great! Super helpful! You don’t know why you’d ever use it, but now you know, at least!!!
You breathe in and out, forcing your hands to still. Your head feels like it’s on fire, but that’s fine. You’ll be able to use that anger soon.
You exit the bathroom.
You pass through the final hallway, and finally arrive at the unbroken statue. Everyone closes their eyes and sends the Change God their prayers.
You do the same, at least outwardly. You don’t know if there’s any point in wishing, and you’re sure the Change God must know how much you hate them by now, but still, you hope they’ll give you the knife. It would be so much easier than looking for an unfrozen flame to burn the hair with. Their help isn’t strictly necessary; you always managed without it. But it would be nice.
And so you wait.
. . .
(You still can’t help but wonder.)
(Why did they help him and not you? Did they used to and you just forgot, and then stopped when you weren’t changing enough to satisfy them? Or did they simply like your stardust better than you from the beginning, for some reason you’ll never be able to understand?)
(Does it matter? Does it matter? DOES IT MATTER?)
(THEY AREN’T YOURS.)
The knife appears in your hands.
You’re teleported back to the gate, which is convenient, you guess. You take out the sharpening stone and drag it down the knife’s blade.
“Please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp,” you mutter. The others join in, too. You wonder how many other little habits you had that relied on Wish Craft, without ever realising it. You wonder how many of them are lost to time forever.
Once it’s nice and sharp, you cut the hair with a satisfying slash. The blade doesn’t break. Stars, that’s so much better than using the fire! You can add burning hair to the slowly-growing list of things you never want to smell ever again.
Mirabelle takes her anger out on the giant Sadness behind the door, and so do you. It still isn’t difficult, but you like how this one takes longer to kill. Violence is cathartic! You missed being able to just break things! You never really got the chance under the Favour Tree, so it’s no wonder your stardust was able to beat you so easily. Not anymore, though!!!
The Sadness falls. You feel stronger.
‘Loop learned the Craft skill…’
…You can’t think of a name for it yet, but a new skill idea does come to mind. It’s been so long since you’ve learned something new… You’re looking forward to trying it.
You’ll get the chance soon enough.
Mirabelle cries when she sees her roommate. You’ve seen a few different variants of this scene now, but the beats are all the same. No matter which tiny details change, it still hurts.
There isn’t really anything you can say here to comfort her. No one else says anything, either. That’ll come shortly, but for now, in this moment, you’re all useless.
You find the secret ingredient in the roommate’s hand when she’s done. At least that part is new to you. You give all the bomb parts to Isabeau to assemble, and keep moving.
You arrive in the final snack room, and then—
“Let’s keep going!”
“Belle, wait a sec—”
“Mira, wait!”
“NO!!!” She spins to face you all, face hardened. “I can’t wait, we can’t wait!!! We have to move on!!! Everyone is waiting for me!!!”
“They can wait a little longer,” Odile says. “Let’s calm down and—”
“I can’t calm down!!!” Mirabelle shrieks. You’ve seen this before, but still you’re frozen, watching helplessly. “The Head Housemaiden… She’s so close! I can feel her! I need to help her!!! She needs my help… Everyone in Vaugarde needs my help!!! I… I…!!!”
She breaks down, sobbing.
You still don’t know what to say.
Isabeau moves to her side. “Mira.”
“…I…”
He smiles gently. “Do it with me, okay? Just like Sif does!”
“Oh… Haha…”
Isabeau takes a deep breath, in and out, and Mirabelle follows a beat later. They breathe in sync, together.
You don’t think about anything.
“Phew… I… I’m okay,” she says, finally. “But Isabeau, you don’t understand. The Head Housemaiden…”
She goes on to explain how the Head Housemaiden was the one who blessed her, who chose her. It was never the Change God. You already knew this, of course. You don’t know why you ever believed otherwise. Change is a lazy, useless god who laughs at the misfortune of others; of course they’d never give their loyal followers any kind of blessing. You’re shocked they even gave you the knife.
At least the Universe listens, even if it hates you. You know which one you’d rather follow.
When your cue arrives, you recite your lines. You don’t dare deviate. In these high-stakes moments, if you say the wrong thing, if you mess up, if you try to skip forward— you’ve seen what can happen. And you don’t want that! You just want to get to the end. You’re so close, now.
You don’t have to say much. The others do the bulk of the comforting, and soon enough, Mirabelle’s feeling better. It’s like you’re not even here at all! Hahaha! But that’s fine. The important part is that she’s not upset anymore, and you didn’t make it worse.
Odile’s stomach rumbles, so it’s snack time. Excitedly, Bonnie presents the options:
Leftover samosas. These are the ones they burnt, filled with potatoes and lacking cheese. You ate these last night, so you can still remember the taste vividly.
Palmiers. A crunchy Vaugardian classic, prone to getting crumbs everywhere. It’s been… a long time… but you think you remember how these taste, too.
And then…
“Malanga fritters, please,” you say when it’s your turn to pick. They beam.
It’s the polite thing to do! They don’t always admit it, but they made these for— well, maybe not you, specifically, but for Siffrin. And you’re the only Siffrin here right now! So it’ll make them happy if you eat it. Who would you be to disappoint an innocent kid?
(Sure, Loop. Keep telling yourself that. Does it make you feel better?)
The smell of burnt sugar still permeates everything, but there’s a new scent in the mix now… or perhaps a very, very old one. You raise a fritter to your mouth, and take a bite.
It
tastes like
home? But you—
They look satisfied. You aren’t sure why, until you reach for another fritter and find your hands empty.
Ah.
Well, at least you’re in character.
Mirabelle brushes crumbs off her skirt. She looks up at all of you. “…I’m sorry, everyone. Being upset now… I shouldn’t have… I should’ve kept it together.”
“Mira, it’s fine,” Isabeau says. “We’re all different kinds of upset right now. It’s a stressful day!”
“Do you feel better now that you’re eating?”
She smiles. “I do, thank you Bonnie! And I’m less upset now, more… Angry.”
“At the King?” Odile asks.
“Yes. I feel more confident, too. We’ll definitely kick the King where it hurts.”
“Ooooh!!!!”
“And where’s that, Mira?”
“His… His… HIS STUPID CRABBING BUTT!!!”
“YEAH!!!!!!!!”
A growncrab lady indeed.
She’s right. You will kick the King’s butt. It’ll be fine. You’ve done it before, and with the shield it practically looks easy. But first, you…
You should talk to everyone. While you still can.
You make Mirabelle laugh. She doesn’t touch you. You talk about breathing exercises with Isabeau. He doesn’t hold your hand. You talk to Bonnie, and they say they think Mirabelle must be doing better if she ate some food, because “it’s when you can’t eat that you’re not doing well at all.”
You think about the rice and fish and fritters in your stomach. You’re still hungry.
You thank them for the fritters, and they insist they didn’t make them for you. They slip at first, but correct themself quickly. You already know this.
They seem embarrassed after that, so you leave them alone.
Finally, Odile.
“A lot of emotions being expressed right now, aren’t there?” she says. “…I feel bad that I didn’t notice Mirabelle wasn’t doing well. I should’ve paid more attention…”
“I’m glad Isabeau’s here,” you say.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Neither of us is very good at this ‘feelings’ thing, and Boniface is a child still learning how to manage theirs… So it’s good we have at least one person who knows what they’re doing, emotions-wise.”
He is the best at it out of the lot of you, but you’ve also seen him fail to confess a thousand times over. The bar is pretty low, you think.
“So. In the spirit of being a person good at this ‘feelings’ thing… How are you feeling right now?”
You smile. Is it convincing? “I’m fine!”
“Hm. You do seem to be doing better,” she says. Oh? “You were acting a little strangely when we first entered the House, but… well, I suppose that’s understandable given the circumstances. I’m glad you’re feeling better now, Siffrin.”
…’I’m glad you’re feeling better’…?
“…Ah. Looks like I spoke too soon.”
No, no, no! You ruined it! It’s fine, dummy, the Housemaiden Mirabelle has a shield now, so—
Quickly, you paste your smile back on. “N-No, really, I’m fine!”
She squints at you. What did you do?! You ruined it!!! You were doing so well, this whole time, this whole blinding awful time, and now—!!!
“If you say so,” she concedes, shrugging. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of our victory, I suppose you can feel however you want.”
…She hasn’t asked. You weren’t expecting her to. You haven’t been acting weird enough to warrant it, even with this last slip-up, so why would she? That’s not how this part goes. But if she did, and you had to tell her one thing that bothered you… not the thing, but just one thing…
You think you’d tell her you’re scared.
And she’d probably say something like, Of course you are. We’re about to fight the King, it’s perfectly normal to be scared. This is an extremely stressful situation. But you’ll be fine, Loop Siffrin. You’re doing fine.
…Or maybe she wouldn’t say that. Maybe she’d just call you an idiot. Because that’s what you’re being, right now.
Either way, it’s fine. There’s no reason to be scared. You’re ready for what comes next.
The Knifekey is sharpened. The bomb is assembled. Mirabelle’s shield is at the ready.
You’re going to kill the King.
You’ll make it hurt.