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(align:"=><=")[''All the Stars are Out of Place''] It is the Bronze Age in Asia Minor. You are not a hero or heroine, not a great princess or grand general. You’re a simple farmer, a young woman from a village—one of many scattered around the ancient city of Zephyrion. The village you were born in has no name; to its inhabitants, it is simply ‘home.’ It’s a small collection of stone huts, placed far up in the hills, nestled between high cliffs, surrounded by farms and a small copse of fruit trees. Here, you've spent your youth working in the fields and tending to a collection of particularly recalcitrant goats. Back when your parents were still alive, you were a dreamer. You'd fall asleep each night and fall into worlds right out of old stories. When you woke, you'd run to your father and mother, who'd laugh and listen as you told them about trips to golden palaces or watching gods battling demons high up in the sky. They'd clap their hands with delight as you stood in the kitchen, acting out your adventures from the night before. Then they died. Without them, life crushed you down. The other villagers tolerated you in the way they might a stray dog, feeding you but demanding you work from sunup to sundown. When you mentioned stories, they'd frown until you learned to stay silent and keep your head down. For a time, you imagined that one day you'd escape this fate, that you'd leave one day and walk out into the world, that you'd find a new, better life somewhere. Yet, at fifteen years old, you already feel the weight of your life crushing down around you, heavier by the day. Your hands are already thick with calluses, your feet worn to strips of leather. Your back aches. When you fall onto your pallet at night, you still daydream despite your exhaustion—but such dreams are fleeting and vanish as soon as you wake. Then you sigh and get ready to work, such childishness forgotten. You are an adult, after all, and such fancies are best left to the young. These are dangerous times, after all. [[Learn more about the setting]] [[Begin Your Journey]]

You've been in the fields for hours, working to gather what's left of the millet harvest. It's late afternoon, but the heat remains—so warm it's almost unbearable. It presses down on you, a smothering blanket that makes each breath a struggle, drenching your tunic and turning your hair into a matted rope plastered against your neck. You grimace and try to ignore the weather. You focus on swinging your arm again and again, concentrating on your task as best you can. The world around you is quiet—just the thwack of the sickle as it hits the stalk, and, further off, the hum of insects and the occasional trill of a bird. Far off, towards the village, you hear the sound of two women arguing. Even their angry voices sound tired. "Hard time of it?" You look over and see Old Cora passing by along the path leading up towards the village shrine—half blind and bent but independent as ever. "Eh, needs doing," you shout back. "Come to my house later. I'll cook you something." You wave as she walks on, knowing how poor she is, yet always willing to share what little she has with you. You always liked Cora. Next to you, one of the local dogs rolls over and whines. "Think we can find something for her? Maybe forage up something once we're done?" The dog tilts its head upward for a moment as if considering the idea. Then it yawns and hunkers back down into the dirt. "You're no good," you chuckle. "Wish I was a dog. You lot have it easy—just sleeping, chewing on a bone or two, chasing a cat when the fancy takes you. Why, I... agghhh!" Too focused on the hound, the next swing glances off the stem and nicks your hand. "Gods curse it!" [[Grit Your Teeth and Keep on Cutting]] [[Stop For a Moment and Catch Your Breath]]

**Being a Brief Overview of the Events of the Early Sunken Age** Some 4,300 years ago, during the Bronze Age, something happened across the Mediterranean, Africa, Asia, and the Americas. In the space of a few decades, almost all of the world's empires fell, thrusting civilization back into a dark age that persisted for centuries. In the years leading up to the disaster, a change in the climate had led to shifts in previously stable weather patterns. Texts from every continent record an unmatched series of droughts, followed by plagues that further weakened the populations. Throughout most inhabited regions, trade faltered and eventually ceased. As food supplies fell, unrest followed. City turned on city, neighbor on neighbor. Those who had the strength to raise an army did so, and thousands died in battle, fighting for whatever scraps were left. Empires burned. Entire towns were put to the sword. For a decade, almost all cultural activity ground to a halt. Worse was to come. The writers began to speak of the arrival of "Sea Peoples"—strange invaders who appeared and fell on the survivors like wolves. From every corner of the Earth, we find story after story bemoaning this new foe. From ancient Egypt: *"My father, behold, the enemy's ships came here. My cities were burned, and they did evil things in my country. Such evil things. Does not my father know that all my troops and chariots are lost? That my people are but as meat for their altars? Thus, the country is abandoned to itself."* Another account from the Harappan Kingdom speaks of sighting strange ships that appeared and ravaged their coastline. *"They come forth like vultures, following the devastation. Sailing out from beneath the sunset, their sails paler than the brightest marble, their skin and hair whiter still. The whirlwind is at their backs, filling all who see them with dread. The men march forth against them but are seized with such a terror that it enters their bodies and takes hold. Everywhere, our legions are thrown down and overwhelmed. Their hearts are taken away; their souls are torn away. Their weapons lie scattered in the sea. The victors smile, their teeth stained red."* Finally, a simple poem from the Shang Dynasty bemoans the state of the world: *"Ravens caw without end, dogs are heard howling. Dead people cover the ground, their bones slowly decay. The sea floods across the land, bringing the pale ones. They look like ghosts, yet ghosts flee before them."* While modern readers will immediately understand the meaning behind such descriptions, one can only imagine the horror and fear our ancestors felt, confronted by such events. All they knew, all they took comfort in. The traditions and dominance of mankind was vanishing, never to return. (align:"==>")['Being a Universal History of the World: Book Three, pg. 129-131 - Lady Elizabeth Elstob'"] [[Begin Your Journey]]

For a moment, the air seems still. Then, below you, something begins to shift. You feel it in your muscles first—a trembling that vibrates up through your feet and into your gut. Small at first, so light, your first thought is that it’s nothing but exhaustion. Then the sensation grows. The earth shakes, groaning in agony. You stagger, trying to keep your footing on ground turning liquid and loose. Around you, the millet field shifts, rolling in great waves, then thrusting the plants up and dragging them back down. Seed pollen scatters in the air. Dry plants lash at you as they break and whip everywhere. There’s a sound—a moaning, guttural roar. Louder and louder. A titan imprisoned in the rock, screaming beneath you, clawing at its cage. You might be screaming back, but it’s impossible to know. Your voice is too small, too weak. You’re flung down on the ground, sent sliding through rocks and dirt, half-buried as the land claws at you, threatening to bury you alive. It goes on and on. (If: $Hasdog is true)[You hug the dog, clutching at its fur, feeling its muscles writhing as it tries to wriggle free.] Then, just as quickly as it started, it stops. Again, there's silence, just for a moment. You stare up at the sky, panting and covered in filth, too exhausted to move and too afraid of what you'll see when you stand up. A moment later, you hear someone screaming. Then another, and soon a chorus of voices all wailing together. [[Get Up and Run to the Village]]

You shake your head and focus on your work. Your village needs this done. Thwack. Thwack. You take satisfaction each time the blade hits the stalks, the crunch and crack as seeds fall loose. There are too few of them. The drought has ravaged the fields, and what’s left of the crop is dry and withered—far less than last summer. Your belly tightens at the thought of another day of hunger, but you grit your teeth and keep on with your task. You only pause when you realize that across the valley, dogs are barking—dozens of them, howling in short, frantic bursts. You look down, but your own has fled, leaving only a dusty impression on the ground where he'd slept. You call out to him. Nothing. You take a step deeper into the millet, about to go looking for him, then shout in surprise and pull back. Around you, a swarm of starlings rises—a cloud so thick and dark that the sunlight above you dims. Wings brush against you, and then they have flown past, winging their way up the mountains towards the west. The sickle hangs loose in your hands, and your mouth is agape. Then you feel it. (set: $Hassickle to true)//You have gained ''A Sickle''. It's a simple, curved blade made of bronze with a handle of wood and leather. Sharp enough to make a decent weapon if the need arises.// [[The Ground Shakes]]

You throw the sickle down in disgust and collapse beside the dog. “Screw this. It’s too hot. No one should work on a day like this, should they?” The hound wags its tail but otherwise ignores you, keeping its eyes closed even when you stroke its neck. You breathe for a moment, feeling the frustration fade. “I’m too hot. I need water. Bet you’d like some, eh? Tell you what, we can head to the stream, drink, and finish this off in a little bit.” You’re about to say more when you pause. Something’s off. It takes you a moment to realize the cicadas have stopped singing. Their sharp little clicks have ceased, as have the buzz of nearby bees. Puzzled, you listen for sounds of animals. But there’s nothing. Even the birdsong you heard earlier has vanished. Bar the ongoing argument, the world around you is silent. Next to you, the dog begins to growl. You look down in confusion. It’s wide awake and on its feet, barking now. Far off, towards the village, you hear the sound picked up by another of the village hounds, then more until all of them join in. Even further away, you hear the unmistakable howl of wolves echoing down from the hills. Before you can react, the sky overhead erupts with a blur of wings. Hundreds of starlings are flapping frantically towards the east—a swarm so thick they look like smoke as they fly across the sun. Then you feel it. (set: $Hasdog to true)//Your hand is on the dog's neck and prevents it from fleeing. You have calmed the beast. The dog has coarse white fur and a protective disposition. It regards you as its family and will follow you for the rest of the adventure. You have gained ''A loyal Dog''// [[The Ground Shakes]]

You race into the village, then stop in shock. When you left, the village was a cluster of small, square houses made of limestone and plastered smooth with yellow clay, bleached by the sun. Wooden doors opened, leading to cool, dark interiors ready to provide a respite from the day's heat. Now, most are shattered. The stout walls have collapsed, many cracking and then falling inward. Ash is everywhere, rising high into the sky and turning the sun's rays thick and amber-gold. In the square, several women and one elderly man stand, coated white with chalk dust, their eyes red and wide with horror. Then you begin to hear voices pleading for aid, for help shifting the buildings and finding the trapped, for food and water. You wonder if anyone's bothered to look for Cora. She has no family; she might be injured and no one would notice. You pause, uncertain what to do. [[Aid Survivors]] [[Gather Materials]] [[Hunt for Cora]]

You grit your teeth and set to work helping the survivors. Too many of the older women and children were inside when the earthquake hit. Many of those died. A dozen of you pull away rocks and bricks, only to unearth another corpse, their eyes staring blindly toward unknown horizons. Too many have suffered injuries, ranging from twisted ankles to broken bones. You help as best you can, applying poultices and splints, or simply talking to them as they scream in pain. But despite the devastation, there are a few moments where the gods seem to smile on the village. You help unearth a baby from the ruins of a house—not dead, just asleep. He yawns sleepily as his mother screams with joy. Later, another pair of children presumed lost return. They arrive back, wide-eyed and fearful, and admit they were off playing when the earthquake struck. They flinch, guilty as cats, as their mother rushes toward them only to sweep them up in a warm embrace. As dawn creeps in, you finally drop down, exhausted. You've done what you can. You can't help but wonder what you're all going to do next. [[Decisions]]

Woods are dark (If: $Hassickle is true)[You hold the sickle in front of you, comforted by its weight. For a moment you're sure you see eyes blinking at you in the dark, then something shuffles and runs off.] (If: $Hasdog is true)[The dog growls at the bushes, the hackles on its neck rising. For a moment you're sure you see eyes blinking at you in the dark, then something shuffles and runs off.] You hurry and gather water from the stream, as well as soft leaves that can act as bandages. You're on your way back when you stumble upon a thorned thicket, heavy with berries. It's not much, but given how little food has been available, it's a welcome discovery. [[Think of the Village]] [[Think of Yourself]]

The survivors gather in the remnants of the village, discussing what to do next. Most of the homes are ruined, as are the fields. Valuable food stores are crushed, and even the stream that runs down from the hills flows thick with dirt. Worse, with all of the men gone and many of the women injured, there are too few hands to attempt repairs. After some discussion, it's decided that your only hope is to send a group down to the city of Zephyrion. Your village sits on the land of a minor family of nobles. Each season, you pay them a tithe—a measure of what little wealth and food you've gathered. Now, facing ruin, all you can do is turn to that family and beg for aid. The question becomes, "Who? Who will go?" Everyone looks worried when the question is raised. The roads were dangerous a week ago. Following the quake, things are going to be worse, with many roaming the land looking for food. Old Cora grunts and raises a hand. "I'll go. Not much I can do round here anyway." The villagers give her a relieved look. "Anyone else? Preferably those without family who need 'em." Hibi stands up. An orphan like yourself, cursed with a cleft palate and a bad stammer. So frail she looks ten, although she's your age. "I'll h-h-help." She struggles, as ever, with the weight of words, blushing before sitting back down. "And that's two. Got a third?" The other girls shift nervously. No one wants to volunteer for something so dangerous. Several women look at you, and the prettiest, Elya, smirks. //She never liked me did she?// you think, gritting your teeth. "What about you, $name? "You were always a bit of a mooncalf, talking about travel and seeing the world with all those stories of yours. Now's your chance." Elya smirks as she suggests this, and you glare back. [[Keep silent]] [[Volunteer]]

Fearful, you huddle down with the others and say nothing. The next day, Cora and Hibi leave, taking a single donkey with them. You never see them again. More die, some succumbing to their injuries, but most to famine and fever. Those left wait for days before realizing that help isn't coming. One by one, the others slip away, vanishing down the road or higher up into the hills. You are one of the last to go, so thin by then you can barely walk. One night, you sit among the wreckage of your village and stare up at the sky, wondering why you're being punished—why the gods have chosen to inflict such trials upon you. (If: $Hasidol is true)[From time to time, you run your hands over the little idol Cora gave you. Feeling its baleful gaze upon you. Its eyes burning at you from above the mass of roots. Cruel and pitiless in its distain. You think Cora was right. The Gods don't care at all.] Above you, the stars are impossibly bright, each like ice in the night sky. Your heart flutters as you stare upwards, struggling to breathe. You look for the constellations you watched as a child, seeking some comfort in the sky—for the North Star, the Lion, the Chariot. You see none of those. There are so many stars above, yet none are where they should be. You blink, and they blur, then dim. "How strange," you think as your head grows light. "I don't recognize the sky anymore. I..." Then everything is darkness. //'You have died and been lost to history. Would you like to try again?'// [[Begin the Story]]

You gather your meagre belongings and head off the next morning. You and Hibi walking, leading a donkey with Cora riding on it. (If: $Hasdog is true)[Ahead, the hound races forward, stopping from time to time to glance back, making sure you're following.] As you leave, you hear Elya's voice muttering with the others. "A blind woman, a stuttering idiot, and a fool. They won't survive out there." Another woman shrugs. "Better them than us." Then, seeing you listening, they smile and wave before turning away. You grimace and set to walking. The pink of dawn gives way to golds, then brightens until the limestone cliffs nearby seem set ablaze. It's slow going. There are signs of the earthquake everywhere. The path is broken, covered in debris, and rent apart by cracks that often split it in two. You frequently pass fallen trees—some small, a few so large they block the path and force you to detour through thick underbrush. The three of you chat at first but soon fall silent, too exhausted to do more than trudge forward as you stumble across and around the debris, focusing on little more than placing one foot after another. The further you get from the village, the thicker the forests grow. They press in around you, turning the path into a tunnel broken only by a few rays of sunlight. From time to time, the trees part just for a moment. Then, you see distant hills covered in gorse and, once, a glimpse of the ocean, far off and gleaming on the horizon. More often, you move along the floor of the valleys, wending your way ever westward. You rarely pause, and then only to pass water or grab a bite to eat. Even after sundown, you press on, lighting a torch and stumbling through the dark. "Just a bit more," you tell each other. "Just another mile and we'll rest." You've been traveling in the dark for what must be hours when, ahead, you see an orange glow coming through the trees. A campfire? Is someone there? Cautiously, you move forwards. (If: $Hassickle is true)[You pull out the sickle, taking comfort in its weight. At least you've some sort of weapon.] [[Approach]]

As you approach, you see a campfire and, next to it, the shape of a man. Even from this distance, you recognize him as Mutallu, a local peddler—a man who'd swing past your village most seasons, selling tools and clay pots or looking for work. You remember him as a cheerful, friendly fellow: plump, despite his life on the road; fond of gossip; and hard-working. That man is nothing like the hollow-cheeked wretch before you. This man is gaunt, almost skeletally thin. What's left of him has sunk down into torn, sweat-stained cloths. He sits upright, back rigid, eyes fixed on the flame, chewing on what might be a piece of dried fish. So far, he doesn't seem to have seen you. Old Cora jerks awake as the mule comes to a sudden stop. "What's happening?" When you describe the camp, she grimaces. "The way you're telling it, he looks rabid." She spits with a grimace. "We should keep going. Go around him if we can." Hibi chews at her lip, her face pale with exhaustion. "But we know him. It's M-M-Mutallu. B-B-Besides, we can't p-p-pull a mule through the woods. He'd hear us. And we n-n-need to rest at some p-point." In the moonlight, her eyes plead with you, willing you to take her side. Cora turns to you. "What d'you think we should do?" [[Sneak around]] [[Call Out to Him]]

"Hey, friend!" As you call out, the man turns and stares towards you. As he shifts, you see a long knife resting on the ground next to him. //Shit// You raise your hands and move closer. [[Talk to the Peddler]] (If: $Hasfood is true)[[Offer him some supplies]]

You think for a moment. "Cora's right. We're better off going around." Hibi nibbles on her lip for a moment, then nods in agreement. "I g-guess s-s-so." The three of you move off the road, skirting the camp. You're almost past his camp when the mule whines, the bray echoing through the trees. The Peddler jumps to his feet. "Who's there?" [[Peddler stands up and pulls out a thin knife]]

The man stands as you approach. "Who's there?" You inch closer, hands raised. "Just travelers, friend. We're from the settlement to the east, down here looking for help." "Won't find it here." His voice is flat, thick with hostility. "I'm thinking you should just turn around and go back the way you came, before something bad happens to you." Cora growls. "Fine way to talk to a woman who's traded with you for decades, Mutallu." He blinks. "...Cora?" When she nods, he steps back, shaking his head. "Sorry. Sorry... ah... didn't mean nothing by that." There's something in his voice, something sharp. You think maybe he did mean it. And if he hadn't recognized the old woman, you'd be in real trouble. He beckons you over. "Here, sit down. Rest for a bit." [[Sit at the Fire]]

He looks surprised at the offer, nods, then exhales and settles back down. He beckons you closer, peering at the three of you as you approach. "Hey there. I... know you, don't I?" "Damn right you do, Mutallu. Been trading with me since you were a boy!" The peddler blinks at Cora, then giggles. "Right, right. Sorry. It's been a hell of a year." He shakes his head. "Bad enough that the road's no place for three women, especially after dark. What are you all doing out here?" "T-t-the quake t-t-tore through our village. People got hurt s-s-so we were s-sent t-to get help." Hibi ducks behind you after speaking, but the man doesn't seem to notice. "Fair enough. Fair enough." You offer him the food again, and he smiles but doesn't reach for it. Instead, he waves you down. "Sit. You must be exhausted." [[Sit at the Fire]]

The three of you glance at each other. Then Cora shrugs. "Just three travelers. Women. We don't mean any harm." The man is a black shape against the flame. "I know you?" "Aye. That you do, Mutallu. Been trading with you since you were a boy." The shape freezes for a moment, then the man grunts and slumps back down to the ground. "Old Cora. From the settlement up the hill. Right." A pause. "C'mon over. You can rest here. I won't hurt you." //Like saying that ever means anything// you think. Then sigh. "Figure we should go over. But at the first sign of trouble, we run, alright?" The others nod. Nearer to the camp, you see him, even worse than he looked at a distance: shrunken, so thin you'd swear you were looking at a corpse for a moment. As you draw closer, your nose wrinkles at the reek of him—all sweat and day-old piss. If he notices your disgust, he ignores it. Instead, he makes a noise that might be laughter. "Nice t'see you." He giggles once more and gestures for you to sit down. The three of you glance at each other. Something's very wrong with the man. [[Sit at the Fire]]

You all sit, him opposite, the three of you huddled together. The mule collapses behind you with a weary bray. "Thanks." The man shrugs and returns to staring at the fire. The silence stretches long enough that the three of you begin to give each other worried looks. //Maybe we should have listened to Cora,// you think. //Too late now, though.// "Were you traveling when the quake hit?" The fire pops and crackles for a moment. You think he's ignoring you when he speaks. "Yeah. I was returning from Zephyrion along the old coastal road. Tried to sell some tin there, but... the market was dead. All people wanted was food." "Drought's hit there too?" "It's hit everywhere. You're lucky you've been tucked up in the mountains away from the ports. There's been riots, arson... worse stuff." He chews again on the strip of meat, worrying at it with decaying teeth. "Armies marching. Ships vanishing before they reach port. Half the priests in Zephyrion spent the summer standing outside their temples, screaming about the end times." "Well, we're going t-there. T-t-to t-the city. We have t-to find help." Mutallu looks up at Hibi when she speaks, staring at her for a moment. "Oh, are you? Figure the city will help you out?" He chuckles, a flat, humorless sound. "Something funny about that?" He glances over to you, then giggles. "No, I, ah... I don't think you want to go there." Cora cocks her head to the side. "People there not in a welcoming mood?" He pauses, then shrugs. "Well, that, I guess. But... look. Just... be careful. Not sure what's left of it after last night." "The quake?" He looks towards the west and shivers. "And what came after." [[Ask What He Means]]

You fall into a fitful slumber, your dreams full of waves and darkness. You wake as a sharp pain jabs into your gut, opening your eyes in shock to see the peddler's face inches away, tears streaming down into his beard. "Forgive me. Please. I can't let you go down there. Just trying to spare you all." The pain grows, and you try to scramble away, but your hands barely move and slap against something sticking out of your gut. //Oh, he's stabbed me. Oh... oh, I've been murdered// you think, wailing. The sound alerts the other two women, who stumble up in shock. You nod, whisper for them to flee, and your last breath is a sigh of relief as you see them fleeing into the darkness. //I hope they're safe. I hope...// Above you, his head is a black shape, outlined by light from the campfire. Beyond, the stars are impossibly bright; each like ice in the night sky. Your heart flutters as you stare upwards, struggling to breathe. Looking for the constellations for comfort. For the North Star, the Lion, the Chariot. You see none of those. //How strange,// you think as your head grows light, //I don't recognize the sky anymore. I...// Then everything is darkness. //'You have died and been lost to history. Would you like to try again?'// [[Begin the Story]]

As soon as the peddler falls asleep, Cora fumbles her way towards you. "We need to get out of here. Now." Behind her, Hibi nods, her eyes frantic. You agree. The three of you wait until he starts to snore, then flee. Glad to be away from him and the madness you see beginning to bloom under his skin. You hurry away from his camp, not pausing until the fire from his camp has vanished and he's a mile or more behind you. "Th-there was s-s-something w-wrong with him." Hibi glances up at the sky as she speaks. "Never s-seen s-someone th-that s-s-scared before." Cora glances at you without replying. Not wanting to say anything to upset the girl, but you can guess what the old woman is thinking. You felt it too. //Scared? That, but dangerous as well. The worst kind of person to meet out here in the dark. Whatever happened to him, the friendly peddler of yesteryear is gone.// [[Walk Through the Night]]

By sunrise, the three of you are exhausted. Behind you, Cora slumps on the mule, snoring softly. Hibi walks beside it, one hand on the reins, eyes half-closed, so tired she stumbles with every step. Only you are wide awake, so it’s you who first sees the ocean. As you leave the forest, you see it spread out before you. The peddler hasn’t lied. "Hells." Behind you, Cora is awake, her face pale with shock. "Tell me it's just my eyesight making it this bad." Hibi's voice is quiet. "It's not." The coastline is a ruin. What must have been fields, a road, and a strip of white sand is now shattered and scourged of life. The trade road you hoped to use is gone, washed away and replaced with pools of bracken. Debris is strewn everywhere, floating in the surf or lying in the mud, salt-caked and baking in the sun. Occasionally, the wind shifts, and the sweet smell of rot makes you gag, but you can't see any signs of life. No bodies, no survivors picking through the rubble. Nothing. "We can't go down into t-that." Her voice is almost hysterical, and you nod, patting her arm, at a loss for what to do next. "The city has to be okay. The walls should have protected people." Any confidence in Cora's voice flees. "Won't they?" You stare down at the devastation and stay silent, unsure what, if anything, there is to say. Finally, Cora grunts. "C'mon. Let's find a place to rest. No point making a decision when we're this tired." So you walk some more, keeping to the road, walking until your legs give way. Then you crawl into shade beneath nearby olive trees, lying still as the afternoon air presses down on you like a blanket. Despite the horror of the past days, exhaustion takes hold, and you're asleep in moments. You sleep. And you dream. [[The Dream]]

"We need to look. There might be someone who can help us." "Or someone who could stab us." Cora grumbles but doesn't protest when you begin to lead the mule and her forward. Behind you, Hibi scuttles in silence, her eyes fixed on the walls as they loom larger and larger with each footstep. As you approach, the devastation grows. Close to the ocean, most of the land has shattered into plates, jagged chunks that rise and fall until the earth resembles broken pottery. Some pieces thrust high up, others drop down sliding into mud and salt-water. Everything stinks; a miasma of brine and rot, smoke and fat that fills your nostrils and lingers at the back of your throat. Your journey slows to a crawl. For every step forward, you slip back another. The city is close now, near enough that you can make out the broken gate but the ground sucks at you, mud clinging to your skirts and sandals. "You need to leave me." Cora seems to creak as she dismounts, looking older than you've ever seen her. "But staying on your own is dangerous! We need to..." "No buts. I can't. Just can't. And this poor creature's finished as well." The mule makes a little noise then slumps down onto its knees. //Think it agrees with her.// "I can s-stay with her?" Hibi looks withered as well, her features blurred beneath a mash of dirt, streaked with sweat trails. //Can't blame them. Neither of them can go on// You realise this and try to smile. [[Leave the pair and carry on]]

You scrabble forwards. (If: $Hasdog is true)[Behind you, the hound barks and whines, racing back and forth at the edge. Before either of the women can grab it, it launches itself into the dirt and begins to scrabble after you.] The ground is so loose, it crumbles beneath your feet. Each step you take sinks into the earth, and threatens to send you tumbling down the slope. You're forced to slide forward, clutching at the ground with your hands, Within a few minutes you're filthy. "Oh, be careful!" Hibi's voice is so high you can almost feel her terror. You turn, wanting to reassure your friend. Then the ground you're standing on gives way, crumbling around you. You scream, flail with one hand. (If: $Hasdog is true)[The other grabbing the dog's neck, trying to avoid its frantic paws.] You grab a root and, miraculously, are able to hang on. //This is insane// Below you, the earth is flat and soft. You could slide down it and try your luck on the ground. Ahead, almost out of reach, you see the rest of the path. Further away but intact. [[Let Go And Risk Sliding Down]] [[Push On to the Other Side]]

You proceed quietly, heading away from the market and into the wealthy quarter. If anyone survived, surely the rich might have. The streets are wider, the buildings grander. Yet all are still dark and lifeless. You're about to give up and flee, when you see a small light burning on the porch of a temple. Survivors? If anyone's alive, surely they'd gather in a place like this. [[Head into the lit temple]]

"Hello?" Your voice echoes down the streets, muffled and flat against the debris. For a moment there's silence. Then you hear something. The slow, repetitive thump, thump of a drum. You follow the noise. Away from the market and down to the ruin of the docks. [[Head Towards the Sound]]

You step out onto the docks. The moment you do, the drumming stops. Ships once moored here. Sailors must have come from a dozen ports with boats laden with goods. Now, the few that remain are shattered. Some have sunk into the water and float hull-up like great dead fish. Others lie beached on the stone jetties, thrust upward and shattered by the tide. The water is thick with debris. With mud and wood mired so thick you'd swear it was solid if the surface didn't undulate in the moonlight. The smell of rot is overpowering but, as before, you don't see any bodies. "Hello?" Out across the ocean, something stirs. A man is sitting on the ruin of a ship with his feet in the water. The moon is a great disk behind him, throwing his face into shadow. Dark wet hair forms tendrils around his neck. His body is beautiful, perfect in a way that makes you feel lumpen and ugly. You approach. Stop where the jetty dips down into the waves. He's only a dozen feet away. This close, you see something odd about him. There's something wrong with his skin. He's beautiful, but... bloated. He's shaped but not muscular. Sleeker and smoother than anyone you've ever seen. As you draw closer, you see the water around his feet ripple. As your eyes widen, you watch the vibration flow up his legs before fading out below his knees. //He's not human. He's... liquid. It's like he's the ocean given form.// "Or'azath. Ymg' ah nafl ah'lloigshogg ya like cahff?" His speech is the wet slapping, of dead fish hitting rain-soaked planks. "I... I'm sorry. I don't... I don't understand you." He gurgles. It might be laughter. "Come closer." You remember the stories. Of unwary travellers meeting Djinn on desolate islands. "W-what do you want?" It shrugs. "The question is what do YOU want? You cried out to us while you slept, after all. We answered." //You remember falling, flinging yourself back. Screaming for aid and those odd bubbles rising around you.// Incredulous, you blink. "You... heard me?" The man-thing nods. "We could hear you from leagues away, little dreamer." The voice sings with delight. "Your dream was... very rich. A chorus for those who could hear it." He stretches out a hand and you hear the drumming again, growing louder and louder. "Come into the water. Come and join us." (set: $IsCthulhuServant to true) [[Join it in the water]] [[Attempt to Resist the Song]]

Inside, it's dark, the only light coming from torches that burn around an altar at the other end. In the shadows, incense burns in braziers, sending clouds of smoke up across walls heavy with carvings of gods and monsters. "Y' ah nog gof'n ot shuggoth. Ah nafl ah'lloigshogg ya" You nearly shriek as something speaks then rises up off the altar. A woman, you think. Or a young boy. Nude beneath a diaphanous sheet of yellow silk that covers them from head to toe. Their silhouette is a black shape within, smooth hipped and sleek. So graceful, you feel awkward and sluggish in their presence. They uncurl. Cat-like and acrobatic. Drawing their legs up till they're kneeling, limbs moving slowly as if dancing to a distant tune. "Or'azath. Ymg' ah nafl ah'lloigshogg ya like cahff?" Their words are alien, unlike any you've heard before. Musical too, each syllable chiming like a bell. "I... ah... I...." You stammer, frozen in place. "Or'azath. Ymg' ah nafl ah'llo...fear us like the others of your kind, do you?" It might be smiling. The language is more familiar but there's still something... wrong about it. The words purr, each a rough cold lick inside your skull. You remember the stories. Of unwary travellers meeting Djinn on desolate roads. "What do you want?" The thing laughs, its voice joyful. "The question is what do YOU want? You cried out to us while you slept, after all. We answered." They tilts their head to the side. //You remember falling, flinging yourself back. Screaming for aid and those odd bubbles rising around you.// Incredulous, you blink. "You... heard me?" They nod. "We could... hear you from leagues away, little dreamer." The voice sings with delight. "Your dream was... very rich. A chorus for those who could hear it." You stagger, feeling drunk and loose tongued. It might have noticed because it chuckles. "Now, you called and we came. Will you accept our gifts?" (set: $IsHasturServant to true) [[Nod in Acceptance]] [[Try to Push them Away]]

You nod, and they sigh in pleasure. "Listen." Far away, you hear a piping, echoing out from the shadows. It never pauses. The piper never draws breath. Soft and haunting, the sound of wind whistling down from some plateau, high and very far away. //It's beautiful// you think, and again, they laugh. They move towards you and around you, the torchlight shining through the yellow gown, turning it translucent as amber. Inside, their silhouette seems to writhe, seems to dance. All arms and legs, breasts and thighs, shifting with each step. What might be jewellery wrapped around wrists and ankles chimes. The incense in the room seems thicker now. RIcher. A heady scent, richer than fermented honey and far sweeter. You feel your head spin and stumble, falling to your knees. They're a blur of fabric, now, moving faster and faster around you. So quick, the smoke billows with their movements, forming vortexes which spin out behind them. They sing as they move, and the torches in the room flicker and dim with each word: (align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXX=")["Odd is the night where strange stars rise, And golden colours burn throughout the sky. Then a final song shall that doomed court sing, Luring dreamers down to the Halls of the King"] Abruptly, they stop. And there is only darkness. [[Your Mind Opens]]

You turn and flee, running away from the torchlight and into the darkness. Racing to get back to the door and onto the street. And yet... No matter how hard to try, you don't seem to be moving. The archway leading outside is there, in front of you. Yet no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to reach it. All around you, the shadows spread, lapping at your heels until you're lost within them. Spun round and send crashing against something made of stone. Fabric brushes against you, silken and light, tangling you as you push against it. You tear at the veil, trying to rip it off the dancer and escape. Their voice is close, and drips with malicious glee. "Oh dreamer, we're not wearing a veil." You feel the stuff shift in your hands, collapsing across you like silverfish, like insects slithering into every crevice in your body. And you begin to scream. (set: $IsInsane to true) [[Your Mind Opens]]

They lean close, bending down until their lips are next to your ear. You hear a sound—a sliding, slithering cracking—like bone and meat unfolding and refolding again and again. You want to turn your head. You... "Don't look at us. Keep your eyes fixed straight ahead." Their voice is different. Looser, as if their tongue is splitting apart with each word. "Now. We will speak. And you... will... see." They begin to whisper to you, strange words in a language you've never heard before. But you have. You know this, deep down. You know these sounds. You've heard them before, in a dream. The speech bends and warps, slithering inside you and caressing the curve of your skull. There is a liquid solidity to each syllable—not just the words, but also the space between them. The pauses and silences no human can understand. For the moment, you simply stand there, hearing those terrible sounds from beside you. You think of the gods, considering praying for them to protect your soul. The thing beside you laughs, its voice cruel. It doesn't speak again, but you hear it in your head, the words tolling like bells. //Do you really think they're up there? Trust us. They're not.// And you know it's true. The fearful, small deities of mankind don't exist. But something does. Something is out there, in the dark, grinning. //Shut your eyes, little dreamer.// (If: $Hasdog is true)[Far away, you hear your dog whimper, feel it's terror. Feel it shiver and jerk as it tries to escape. //Don't worry.// The voice is soothing. //We like hounds. This one will be safe.// It chuckles. //Now, close your eyes.//] Despite your fear, you obey. You close your eyes, and look into nothing. //Now... see. See the truth.// And then. The nothing. Looks. Back. [[Look Deeper]]

"Can't see how it can get much worse." Cora raises an eyebrow, then shrugs and laughs, her voice bitter as wormwood. "Maybe you're right. We're still here, after all. Any day you're above ground is better than one where you're below it." Despite the horror of the day, there's truth to that. "I thought by your age you'd made peace with the thought of dying." "Fuck that. When the Lord of Dust comes for me, he's going to have to take me kicking and screaming." You find yourself grinning. You always liked Cora. "Besides, not like I'm eager to meet any of that lot." She nods behind her, indicating the remnants of the village shrine. [[Follow her Gaze]]

"Suppose so." You pause. "Think it's going to get even worse?" Cora's lips purse. "Drought, war, men grabbed for some pointless fight, and now this earthquake? Yeah, I reckon so. In my experience, these things have a way of compounding. You get one, you get another, and another. Get enough of them, and things just... break down." "The gods must hate us." She looks behind her at the remnants of the village shrine. [[Follow her Gaze]]

Behind her, the sanctuary is a mess. A great crack divides the wall. Debris and dust litter the alcove, smothering candles and knocking over many of the small stones that represent the gods. Only the ones at the back are untouched: Arinna and her consort, thundering Tarhunt; mighty Anu, lord of the sky; and fickle Hepat, queen of heaven. Next to them is a small statue you've never seen before—ugly and gnarled, carved from wood rather than stone like the others. Cora catches your eye. "Noticed that one, did you?" She picks it up and drops the thing in your hands. The wood is cool against your palms, and its surface gleams. "It's mine. Figured if I was going to curse the gods, I'd include the one I kept at home. Just to be safe." It's odd, a twisted little statuette, unlike any idol you've ever seen. Hunched over into a ball, with what might be wings tucked over its arms. The front is unfinished, face and chest collapsing into whorls and tendrils that once anchored the wood into the ground. "Who's this?" She shrugs. "Don't know. My husband brought him back from a trip to the city years ago. Said a sailor sold it to him." You both stare down at the baleful thing. "It's hideous." "You ain't wrong there. I hated it from the second I laid eyes on it." Puzzled, you look up. "Why didn't you just get rid of it?" "I was two seasons married, and my husband gave me a gift. Didn't have the heart to say no." She shrugs, and her eyes darken. "Also... it's a god, ain't it? Figured throwing it away would only anger it." "You just said they didn't pay attention to mortals." Cora licks her lips and shrugs. "... Maybe this one does." Then she pats you on the shoulder. "Tell you what. You can keep it. Maybe it'll bring you luck. You want to throw it away or leave it here? You go on right ahead. Now, c'mon, girl. Let's go down and see what everyone's decided to do about all this mess." "But...!" She's gone before you can protest further. You look down at the idol, still cold in your hands despite the warmth of the evening. You frown. "Y'don't scare me." Then you tuck it away and run down the trail after Cora. //You have gained a ''A Curious Idol''. Perhaps it will bring you luck, or perhaps you'll regret accepting it.// (set: $Hasidol to true) [[Decisions]]

You pause for a moment, feeling your stomach tighten and saliva swirl in your dry mouth. You could keep them for yourself—just eat them now or save them for later when you're alone. You'd be full, even if your neighbors would starve. These are tough times, after all. Then you sigh and begin plucking the berries, adding them to a pile. It might not be much, but sharing a bit of food should lift people's spirits. [[Decisions]]

You look down at the berries, then glance back toward the village. Barely a handful, and too many who need feeding. You need to look after yourself. You carefully wrap what you've gathered and hide it in your tunic. You'll have something to eat, if nothing else. (you gain ''A Secret Stash of Food'') (set: $Hasfood to true) [[Decisions]]

For a moment, you think he's not going to answer. Then he begins to speak. "I was... down near the coast, about half a day west of here. I'd left the city that morning and was glad to be back on the road. There was a... mood. A real nasty one, like I told you. Everyone angry, everyone on edge. Like the place was a single stone's throw away from erupting." "Seemed like half the world was on the march. The line outside the gates stretched way back. Villagers like you trying to bribe their way inside, figuring they'd be safer. Those that couldn't get in camped nearby, figuring they'd try their luck later on. And there were more of those. By dusk, the beach and nearby fields were peppered with hundreds of fires and clusters of tents. All these people, all with the same haunted look." "So you stayed there?" "Nah. I didn't trust any of 'em. Didn't want to tempt fate and risk being robbed or murdered in my sleep. So I moved inland. Kept walking for a while and set up camp high in the hills, all on my own." He chews, silent for so long that the three of you begin to shuffle in discomfort. “Normally, I wouldn't risk walking in the dark, but last night... it was bright. I remember thinking that. So bright, the path in front of me was lit clear as day. I could make out every rock and pebble, every hole or bump. So bright, when I finally stopped and looked back, the water looked like a sheet of beaten silver." His eyes drift as he speaks, lost in the memory. "Never seen anything like it before. Above me, the moon leered down, and the stars around it were cold. So cold, so... sharp. All swirling in a mass of colors like nothing I'd seen before. Terrified the shit out of me." //Leered down.// You don't like the phrase. When he says it, you imagine the orb grinning and growing larger and larger. You look up, but all you see above is a canopy of thick branches. "T-the s-s-sky scared you?" His tone grows defensive. “I know how that sounds, but... it's hard to describe. As I made camp, I was suddenly struck by how... hungry it looked. I... I know that sounds like a queer thing to say, but that's how I felt. When I looked at it, I felt dizzy. Like I was about to fall upwards. Off the ground and into all those stars, each one like teeth waiting to chew me up." He pauses, then giggles again. A high, unsettling sound that makes you shrink back. Cora was right. There's something off about this one. You wish you'd kept walking. The peddler keeps talking, ignoring you. Almost as if he's muttering to himself. "I remember falling to the ground, clutching at the earth. Convinced that if I let go, I'd tumble upwards and be lost forever." Next to you, you can feel Hibi shiver. “You m-m-must have been in s-s-shock. We all felt s-s-strange after the earth s-shook…” Her voice falters as he glares at her. “Wasn’t that. I’ve fought before. Been stabbed more than once and felt my blood drain out. This was... something else. Something felt wrong with the world. Wasn’t just the earthquake or the drought making me lightheaded. It was something else." His voice is so soft now, it's almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire. "I recall lying there, all afraid. Then a moment later, I forgot all about the sky." The peddler shivers. “Right in front of me, the sea began to vanish." His voice cracks as he speaks, getting higher and tighter with every word. "The water began to move. Like the tide was receding but fast. Faster than I'd ever seen. I heard this rushing sound, kind of like swallowing. Like as if some leviathan rose up at the edge of the world and was drinking down the sea.” “Then, far off on the horizon, something rose up. Something dark that ate the night sky and raced towards me. It was a wave. Such a wave. Small at first, but it grew and grew till it was higher than the tallest tree. Higher than any temple or palace I'd ever seen." "I heard voices echoing up from the beach. Men and women. Children. All of them screaming and crying. Then that wave fell across them and it stopped. Everything vanished. All those fires were extinguished and covered in a darkness that washed towards me. If I hadn't been up there on that hill, it would have taken me too." He pauses with another soft giggle, then falls silent. Then he peers at you, really noticing you, perhaps for the first time. His face is puzzled and hyena-feral, eyes tinted red by the campfire. (If: $Hassickle is true)[You grip your sickle, clutching it so tight the blood drains from your knuckles.] (If: $Hasdog is true)[Beside you, the dog growls, lips trembling and teeth thrust out. Even when you stroke it's back you feel the tension in the animal. It doesn't like this man.] Then, before you can react, he crumples back down and begins to cry. [[Go to Sleep]] [[Wait till he Sleeps and Flee]]

In the dream, you're young again, no more than five or six. A child, walking through a great palace built of marble and blackest onyx. Its walls and doors are so grand and imposing, they seem to crush down on you as you wander past. This isn’t a place for humans. You know this, somehow. It’s not even a place for royalty, but for something greater. Gods, you think, then dismiss the idea. Something tells you even your gods don’t live here. The gods are afraid of this place, you whisper, knowing, with the logic of dreams, that this is the truth. There is no furniture, save for dry fountains and silk curtains that hang everywhere, billowing softly as you approach. When you brush your fingers against one, the fabric crumbles in your hands, soft as rotten moth wings, and you draw back in revulsion. Occasionally, you spy another child, far off. Once, you spy a girl walking past on a high balcony; another time, a southern boy stumbling down a staircase that spirals into darkness. You call out to a third, a tiny child with pale skin and scarlet hair, whom you spot at the end of a great gallery, but he doesn’t react. A moment later, they turn a corner and vanish. After a time, you find yourself in a great hall, so tall the ceiling is lost in shadow. Lined on each wall with huge statues of cats—sitting, then stretching, then, as you walk further on, leaping off their pedestals and fighting their neighbors, forming an archway of claw and fang above you. Beyond those, through a tall doorway, you find steps, each the height of a grown man, leading downwards. [[Go Downwards]]

Without the others you're able to move at a faster pace. The city is above you now, silent save for the waves and the cry of birds. Everywhere, you see objects. Carts lying on their sides. Jars of wine or oil, shattered and bleeding their contents out onto the earth. Coins of copper and silver, scattered everywhere. You find clothing, weapons, tools.... everything but people. At first you gather a few, snatching them up with a guilty look. But the feeling grows as you walk that the people who owned these goods aren't. coming back. That something awful happened to the inhabitants of Zephyrion. Why else would they leave their valuables behind? The city is in a similar state. Her gates are open, almost torn off their mountings by the earthquake. The walls of the city are broken, riddled with cracks. Some so wide Cora could have ridden the mule through. Beyond, the streets are dark and full of rubble. Market stalls lie overturned. The lamps are unlit. A smell hangs over the place, all sweet rot and brine, laced with the smell of cooking oil. So strong it makes you gag. You consider fleeing. Then curse, as you remember your duty. Not even to the village, but simply to the pair waiting for you. You should try to find help if you can. [[Call Out]] [[Proceed Quietly]]

“There's nothing for us there. Let’s go back.” Cora stares at the hulk of the city. “That bad, eh? Well... your eyes are better than mine. If you say it’s dead, it’s dead.” “W-what are we going to do now? We c-can’t go back t-to the village. We s-s-still need to get help!” Hibi twists her hands together, looking at each of you in turn. //She wants someone to tell her everything will be okay.// All you can do is pat her shoulder. What else can you do? “Look, we’ve still got some supplies. Let’s head back and stick to the hills. See if we can find another settlement. It’s risky, but better than walking into who knows what.” So the three of you backtrack and avoid the coast, fearful of strangers and the ground rumbling. You stick to sheep trails, tracks so narrow you walk in single file, your footsteps sending pebbles careening down to valleys hundreds of feet below. Hoping to find a friendly village or at least a safe place to rest, each of you remains silent, lost in your own thoughts. Two days later, towards dusk, even that trail ends. The hill before you has collapsed, the earthquake turning once firm rock into a field of soft debris. Far away, on the other side, you see the path again, but one look at your friends tells you they’re in no shape to make it across. You sigh, too tired to go back, every bit of you wanting to sit down and give up. Your friends are in worse shape and that, alone, is enough to drag you forward. “Wait here. I’ll see if I can make my way across.” [[Make Your Way Across the Incline]]

You go down, pulled by some force towards a light that shines up past a final set of curtains. Through a great chamber, miles across, you descend one of thousands of stairs that curve through space, heading towards a platform in the middle. It’s a web, you think. There’s a spider waiting for me when I get there. You feel wind against your skin and hear a noise from far away—the sound of a single flute, each note richer than wine. And you’re terrified, worse than you’ve ever been before. The sensation grows as you descend, enough that you scrabble at the stone, trying to stop yourself from moving. But you can’t. A voice whispers inside you, saying, Come and see. You stop at the edge of the platform. In the middle is a slab of stone, covered in rugs, pillows, and rose petals. On it sleeps a beautiful boy, his face surrounded by golden curls, his skin the color of warmed honey. Lying on his side, so still he could be a statue if it weren’t for the methodic rising and falling of his chest. "This is not a dream. This is reality." The speaker is dark-skinned, her flesh so black she was lost in the darkness until she spoke. She emerges from the shadows, and they flow off her like ink. A giant of a woman, a dozen or more heads high. Her hair is straight and brushes against her heels, her limbs wrapped in gold-threaded silk and a kingdom's worth of jewels. You duck down, hiding behind the curtain, thinking with a moan, This one eats children. But if she notices you, she gives no sign. She just brushes her nails across the boy's forehead. "Your world is the Dream. Simply a projection, a light flickering through the Gateway of Yuggoth, down from the many-angled realms." The second speaker is a shape—just as tall as the woman but hidden beneath a tattered robe. His voice is hollow and cold, broken occasionally by the rattling of a cluster of great keys that hang at his waist. It’s not a man... not a man. Around you, at the edges of the platform, you see other shapes—small silhouettes. The other children? There are dozens, hundreds perhaps. All listening, like yourself. The woman smiles down at you, and her teeth—her teeth are blackened glass, row after row of them. Shark-sharp and voracious. Her mouth is encrusted with blood, and the gore runs down her chin, over her neck and belly. And it’s growing dark. The light is fading until all you see is the face of the sleeping child. Then even that is gone, and you are standing alone in the darkness. Nearby, the dark queen whispers, "Rejoice, Arch-Dreamers of Earth. Tomorrow, something wonderful is about to happen. One dream ends, and another begins." Another voice, his, far off like wind blowing down through a canyon: "The key turns in the lock. The doors to the theatre swing wide. On the stage, the musicians tune their lutes and pick up their drums. The Chorus holds its breath. The actors take their places. Across the world, the Grand Play is about to begin." Then both of them, together, right next to you: "We can’t wait to see what happens next." In the dark, something rushes towards you. [[Fling yourself into the Darkness]] [[Cry Out, Begging for Someone to Save You]]

The other women don't ask you what's wrong. Each has their own haunted look, and you imagine you're not the only one troubled by nightmares. You rise (If: $Hasfood is true)[eat the last of the berries] then press on. One foot after another. Walking through the ruins of your world. As dusk falls you finally see the walls of Zephyrion, that grandest of cities. You saw it once before, when you were a child. Then it gleamed, a thousand lanterns hung along her walls, streets teeming with life, merchants shouting, and workers rushing this way and that. The noise was so loud you’d heard the echoes from miles away as you approached. Now? It lies silent—a dark shape against the horizon, half sunken into the waves. The dying light rims her edges, tinting shattered walls crimson. Here and there, a trail of thick smoke rises up into the sky. On a few roofs, flames still burn. Above, hundreds of birds circle—black dots that whirl and dive. Beyond those, there is no sign of life. “Everyone’s d-dead!” Hibi stands next to you, hands clutched over her mouth. “That... can’t be.” Cora’s voice is low, shot with horror. “It’s Zephyrion! There should be survivors. People all around the walls!” You say nothing but remember the dream. //One world ends and another begins.// You remember that inhuman voice and shiver in the dying light. [[Approach the City]] [[Head Back Into the Hills]]

You find Cora high up in the hills, in a cave the villagers use as a shrine. Despite the damage outside, the place is intact. The old woman kneels at the back, next to a tiny altar carved into the rock. Hunched down, shapeless in the torchlight, she's muttering, tongue licking at her toothless mouth. You sit beside her, watching her pray, then realize she's cursing the gods. "Fuck you, Tarhunt, Lord of Storms. Y'ain't done nothing for me." "Fuck you, Inara, Huntress. Ain't worth squat." Your eyes widen, but you can't help grinning despite the exhaustion. "If I were one of the gods, I might be offended by you saying that." She stops and glances back at you, eyes thick with cataracts. "Eh. If you were a god, I doubt we'd be in this situation. This lot?" She jabbed a bony finger toward the cluster of statues. "They don't care about us. Or maybe they just like seeing us suffer for their amusement." You think of the drought, of the men being led away, and the earth opening up. It's hard to disagree. "It's been a tough season." "I've been alive long enough to see bad ones. Really dark years. Times when misfortune seemed to stalk us, ravenous as a wolf. I've seen wars—lost my husband and all five boys to one. I remember seeing bodies, not fruit, ripening in the orchard. I've lived through disease and starvation. I've buried my share of friends when I was too exhausted to cry." Then she sighs. "This one smells worse, though. There's a real hardness to it. Hardest I've ever seen. This quake? This drought? Everything in my bones tells me it's going to get worse." [[Disagree. It has to get better.]] [[Nod in Agreement. You Think this is Just the Beginning.]]

Cora and Hibi wait for the rest of the night, until the sun rises, and then more, until it sinks again and plunges the land back into darkness. "S-s-she's not coming back, is s-s-she?" Cora shrugs, eyes downcast. "Well, she's a clever girl. Reckon we can wait a bit longer." Hibi sighs, then nods. "I guess s-s-so. I..." She never finishes the sentence. A woman in white is walking towards them, gliding over the land. Her skin and hair shimmer in the darkness. So bright, looking at her is like staring into the sun. "Goddess," Cora hisses, all lack of faith forgotten in an instant. She falls to her knees, pulling Hibi down beside her until their foreheads press against the mud. The being stops, her bare feet inches from their faces. She laughs, and the sound is birdsong and wind-chimes in spring. "Get up, both of you. It's me." They stare up into the face of what was once their friend. Above them, $name smiles, so white-hot they're blinded. "How... What..." The smile widens, cruel, but there's a kindness in her eyes—at least towards them. "Magic." She holds out her hands. "Join me." And they do. [[Epilogue 2]]

''(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXX=")[Eight Hundred Years Later - Athens.]'' The festival to the gods was in full swing, and the city writhed. Everywhere, revellers raced through the streets, chanting, laughing, drinking wine, and grabbing at strangers. Many wore masks—carved things of wood or bone in the shape of their patrons, each made monstrous in the light from the emerald lanterns that hung from every doorway. Others played pipes or banged drums together and the noise carrying up the hill to where the Temple squatted like a great black toad. A young Athenian philosopher walked past them, smiling as men and women ran past, some pleading with him to join them in their revels. He bowed and laughed but carried on, past the crowds. Through gates and upwards until the city sprawled before him, a maze of buildings and streets, all twisted together like a coral reef. The place he'd come to was silent—olive trees lit only by torches laid out along a path that wound upwards towards a small cave. In front of it crouched what might have been a man and a woman. Or not; it was hard to tell. Both were clad from head to toe in voluminous leather rags, with heads encased in featureless silver helmets. The philosopher paused and bowed. The pair didn't react, just stayed silent—a pair of hunting dogs waiting to pounce. "I... ah... I come on this sacred night seeking stories. Tales of the true history of our world." A hand, withered and with nails almost as long as the fingers, thrust out towards him. The other made a threatening croak. "Pay or be payment." He bowed again, trying to swallow down the fear, and placed a small coin in the palm of the creature—one so old the iridescent metal had been worn down to the thickness of a child's fingernail. A single coin that had cost him the entirety of his fortune. And he still wasn't sure it was enough. "A... a Tula Coin. Said to be from R'yleh itself. It..." "We know what it is." It rolled the coin over in its hands, weighing it and him at the same time. //Please be true. Please don't be a forgery. If it is, my story ends here. Right now. Shit, why is it taking so long? Is it fake? It must be. I need to get out of here!//His panic grew, and he shuffled back, wanting to flee but knowing how pointless that was. Then, abruptly, the thing on the threshold stepped aside. "Enter." As he breathed in relief and stepped forward, the other growled, "On your knees." The young man obeyed, crouching down and crawling forward into the darkness. Across sand littered with what might be bones, he crawled until the floor beneath him was illuminated by a soft, silver light. He smelled blood, myrrh, cardamom, and the perfume his mother—dead for over a decade—used to wear. Above him, something chuckled. "Look at us." The voice echoed around him, loud as a lion's roar, vibrating down into his bones. Despite the fear, he peered upwards. The trio sat together, entwined around each other like tree roots—ancient and terrible. Each was so beautiful that he knew their features would haunt him for the rest of his life. Almost naked, clad only in bands of silver, their flesh pierced with thin needles of gold, their hands encrusted with dried blood. One had a veil over her eyes. One a veil across her mouth. Only the face of the third was bare and she looked down on him, her gaze pitiless as the mid-winter moon. (If: $IsDrowned is true)[Her eyes like pearls, her hair damp. Her lips part as she spoke and it was the the mouth of the drowned, salt-crusted and leaking sea-water.] (If: $IsBeast is true)[This one was half-animal. Horned. Hair-legged and hoofed. Radiating a musk that caught in his throat.] (If: $IsBurnt is true)[Smouldering, smoke still rising from ancient burns that covered her thighs and arms.] (If: $IsInsane is true)[Then, abruptly, she looked away, blinking as if confused. As if was elsewhere and has forgotten about him. //Something's wrong with her mind// the philosopher thought, before one of her sisters hissed and fear made him bow his head again.] "I am—" "We know who you are. We... dreamt of you long ago. Of you kneeling right there, just as you are now." Next to her, the blind one whispered something that made the others laugh. "Then, I am just reminded, we spent the next hundred years deciding what to do with you. One of my sisters wanted to talk to you. The other, well..." The eyes of the other flashed with what might have been amusement. Or hunger. It was impossible to know. "And, um, did you? Decide, that is?" The woman grinned and her teeth were sharp and very long. "We did. And we'll grant you what you want, young philosopher. We'll tell you the story of the world that was. One that, when you write it down, will ensure your name endures throughout history." "A tale of R'yleh. Of how it sank beneath the sea, as its last servants fled to the four corners of the world. Of how their magic spread into ones like us and then into the blood of men like you. How mankind's weak, soft gods fled in terror, never to return. And how the Earth was given over to the Old Ones, to wait for a time until the stars were right once more." He still trembled but the worst of the fear was gone. Replaced by a hunger for knowledge. For the truth of things. "This tale, which is of great length, begins as follows..." And as she spoke, Plato's eyes grew wide. [[Notes from the Author]]

Everyone agrees it’s been a bad summer. The year had begun with drought, with dry winds that brought dust up from the desert—dust that smothered the land and caused each breath to burn. Even when those winds died down, the sun rose high and hot, burning the fields beneath it and turning once verdant forests brittle. Great patches of millet died, and much of what grew was snatched by soldiers from the city, leaving little behind. Worse, when they returned, they took the men—the healthy ones, those able to hold a spear. A month ago, your two brothers and father were marched away to war, and you’ve heard nothing from them since. So now you forget flights of fancy, and you survive. You tighten your belt and grit your teeth. You make do. What other choice does someone like you have? Yet, last night, you remember dreaming of something grinning at you. Something with teeth, whispering that everything is about to change. And as you wake up, you shiver despite the heat. (set:$name to (prompt:"Please tell me your name: ", "Yazmur")) Welcome, $name Shall we begin? (set: $Hassickle to false) (set: $Hasdog to false) (set: $Hasidol to false) (set: $Hasfood to false) (set: $IsCthulhuServant to false) (set: $IsShubNiggurathServant to false) (set: $IsHasturServant to false) (set: $IsCthughServant to false) (set: $IsDrowned to false) (set: $IsInsane to false) (set: $IsBurned to false) (set: $IsBeast to false) [[Begin the Story]]

Around you, the trees are gnarled and twisted. A path leads westward, towards the sea. Through a cluster of paving stones, and what might a ruined wall. Remnants, perhaps, of an abandoned village. You stagger into the clearing then your legs give way. You slump down by the stones, leaning against them. //I'll just... catch my breath. Just rest for a moment.// The evening wind picks up and for a moment you think you hear a note behind it; a single whistle that reminds you of the one in the dream. (If: $Hasdog is true)[As the note rises, the dog whines and hunches low to the ground.] You look around, wondering where it’s coming from, then realize someone is moving down the road. Far off, along the road, a figure is walking towards you—gliding, blurred by the afternoon's dying heat, little more than a dark slash outlined against the sinking sun. Approaching faster than anyone could walk, jumping closer each time you blink. At the other side of the clearing, the figure pauses. It's a woman—heavily pregnant, her belly and breasts swollen. Her face is hidden, buried beneath a hood and thick grey veil. Something glints inside the darkness that might be eyes. Might be... The woman steps again and seems to blur towards you. Then she's inches away. You scream, stepping back until the stones are pressed against your back. "Y'ah nog gof'n ot shuggoth. Ah nafl ah'lloigshogg ya." You blink in confusion. Something is wrong with the speech. Not just the alien words but the way she speaks—muffled, as if her mouth’s full of dirt. One moment the woman towers above you, the next she’s crouched over you. So close you can feel her breath on your face. You smell spice and mother’s milk, blood and birthing oil. She holds up a sickle in front of you, the blade sharp against her navel. If it bothers her, she doesn’t show it. "We greet thee." You remember the stories you heard when you were younger—of travelers meeting Djinn as they walked along desolate roads. "W-what do you want?" Something under the veil laughs. "The question is what do YOU want? You called to us while you slept. Begged us to save you. We answered." She tilts her head to the side, so fast the cloth blurs. The hem of her robe is wet, and for a moment, something beneath it shifts and scuttles before settling back down. You remember falling, flinging yourself back, screaming for aid, and those odd bubbles rising around you. "You heard me?" She nods her head. "We could hear you from across the ocean, little dreamer." The veil trembles with what might be mirth... or anticipation. "And we have been searching for ones like you." The scent is stronger now—raw, all animalistic and earthy. If she notices your fear, she ignores it. "Now, embrace me. Come into me." "W-why?" Her voice is very gentle—dirt being flung on a coffin. "Come and see. Come into us and see." [[Attempt to Flee]] [[Submit and Embrace Her]]

Despite your fear, you inch closer. Opposite you, beneath the hood, the mouth of the thing cracks open. It croaks again in its alien tongue before slipping into your own language. "We greet thee." You remember the stories of children meeting Djinn on desolate roads. "W-who are you? What do you want?" It chuckles, dry as sand. "What do WE want? You called to us while you slept. We answered." The burnt man tilts his head to the side. He cracks when he moves. His cloak crumbles into ash that drifts upwards. //You remember falling, flinging yourself back, screaming for aid, and those odd bubbles rising around you// "You heard me?" Lipless teeth gleam in the light. "We could... hear you from leagues away, little dreamer." Its voice is thick with something—mirth, perhaps, or maybe anticipation. "Your dream was... very rich. Perfect for our needs." "You called, and we came. Now, come here. Come to us." (set: $IsCthughaServant to true) [[Flee]] [[Walk Closer to the Fire]]

(If: $Hasidol is true)[Far away, your fingers slide across the odd little statue you were given. Feeling the curve of its face, the bulge of its eyes. That coldness that emanates from it, as if its been underwater for an age.] You're flying through the storm, racing away from the coast, your feet dancing as they're dragged across the waves. Away from the land of your birth, out past islands and peninsulas, out until the water grows dark and cold and the waves grow higher than mountains. Then, before you, is the City. The true City. Eons old, its foundation stones laid before your kind ever existed. All spires and obelisks, temples and roadways that wind like snakes. Above it, the sky burns and the stars coil, slowly circling around a gap, a maw in the heavens into which the cosmos tumbles. And you shriek, feeling your mind come loose. //It's terrible. It's wrong. So wrong the world around it ripples in revulsion. It shouldn't be here.... But... deep down, you know that's just fear speaking. The fear of a small animal blind to the world around them.// //Look// Whispers the thing beside you. //Open your dreamer's bright eyes and see.// You do. And begin to laugh. // The City isn't terrible. It's beautiful. It's a home for gods. The True Gods. The Old Gods who mankind had forgotten. You want to scream in adoration at the sight. To fall to your knees and never get up. To fall into it and dwell there forever, till your bones turn to dust.// And you're in the City now, still flying. Past great walls, a mile high, against which the water laps. Up steps, each the height of three men. Through archways and past pillars, each so tall they scrape against the clouds. And there, at the center, is an enormous plaza, dominated by four great buildings. The citizens of the City are gathered there—hundreds and thousands of them. Part men, part something else. Something aquatic and ancient, all scale and claw and lascivious curves. Some seem to wave at you as you pass; many begin to sing, to dance and claw at each other, screaming with joy. Everywhere, flowers are falling—petals in every color, tumbling down on the crowd as they cheer and chant. Loud at first, then fading, drowned out by the sound of water rushing from behind you. You turn. There is a wave on the horizon, taller than the world. So large, even the City is dwarfed by its mass. As you watch, slowly, almost as if time has slowed, it washes down and over everything. Around you, even as the sea rushes in the chanting and laugher continues. You tumble, your gaze drawn towards one of the four buildings and what lies within. Before you, (If: $IsCthulhuServant is true)[in the darkness of his abode, the great pool of water bubbles for a final time as water washes across it. Within, the Slumbering Lord folds his wings and coils around himself, embryonic, his many eyes closing. Slipping into slumber. Great Cthulhu dreams and you feel his thoughts wash across the world. Remaking it. Remaking you. Breaking you down like rocks before the tide. Turning you into something bright and terrible. The first of his servants, the one who will keep the magic alive until the Stars align and he wakes from death once more. As your skin comes apart and your eyes shine like pearls, you begin to laugh and laugh.](If: $IsHasturServant is true)[bronze doors swing wide as the water rushes in. The sea pours through golden halls, washing away thrones, statues of amber, and piles of spice. Scrolls of papyrus come apart, their secrets lost forever. And beyond, in the centre, the Yellow King shifts for a final time on his bed, then lies still. What passes for breath grows long and heavy, then stops altogether. Hastur dreams and you feel the silken thread of its thoughts leer out across the world, remaking you, breaking you down and crafting you into something terrible. The first of a new breed of humans, carrying out its will until it wakes once more. As his song echoes through your bones, you begin to laugh and laugh.] (If: $IsShubniggurathServant is true)[doors of black stone swing open for the final time and water floods down ancient steps in a torrent. In the birthing caverns and hatcheries, her handmaidens slow and sink to the ground, each still and silent. Beyond, in her boudoir, the Black Goat shifts and preens for a final time. Mouths open along her flanks, whisper, then close again for good. Around her, the last of her young yawn and burrow beneath her skin. Then all is silent. Shub-Niggurath sleeps, and her dreams worm outwards, burrowing through the earth. Infesting it. Changing it. Changing you, solidifying you into something hard and cold, stronger than marble and far more glorious. You feel your blood slow, feel life bloom inside you and you laugh and laugh.] (If: $IsCthughaServant is true)[The Highest Tower in the city ignites for a final time. Glass and metal melt as the servitors inside whirls upwards to roost at its peak. The great lanterns within dim, one by one. The braziers smoulder and go out, leaving only a scent of incense behind. The waters rush in and the Ever-Burning One, The Living Flame sighs and flickers out. Then all is silent. Cthugha sleeps, and his dreams rush outwards, racing like fire across the Earth. Burning it. Burning you, changing you. Leaving you scorched and aflame. You feel heat build within you. Feel your veins set alight and smoke roar from your mouth. And you laugh and laugh.] The stars are not right. The Old Gods sink, and R'lyeh sinks down with them. Still, her inhabitants chant as the water claims them, singing as their home descends, dragging them down with it. Down into the depths, into the crushing dark. There to wait for an age, until their time comes once more. For their kind never truly die. They simply slumber and dream. You open your eyes, and light blazes forth. Laugh and the words ignite on your tongue. Above you, the night sky is ablaze. "How... peculiar. I never realized there were such colors above us." These are the last words you will ever say as a human. (If: $Hasdog is true)[In the corner of the room, the thing that was once a dog unfolds itself from between angles and watches you, patient as the final changes takes hold. As it sits there, panting, its skin dissolves into smoke and reforms with each breath. It doesn't seem to mind its new form, though. After all, it has all the time in the world to get used to it.] [[Epilogue 1]]

You pause for a moment, looking across at the man. Looking at the water between you, thick with debris. //But no bodies// You think again. //No men, no women. Not even fish. Where is everyone?//. His legs ripple again. You walk into the waves, stumbling slightly as the slime on the rocks turns each footstep trecherous. The water is cold, despite the heat of the evening and you gasp as it reaches your waist. Another step and it's up to your neck. In front of you, he's nothing more than a shadow, framed against the moon. You take a breath and step forward for a final time, slippiing beneath the waves. Below, it's dark. The only light a glimmer from above. You stretch your feet out, trying to touch the bottom. But there's nothing. Panicked, you flail upwards, trying to reach the surface. Nothing. No matter how much you kick, you don't move. You float, slowly sinking into the abyss. Your lungs burn, screaming at you. You need to inhale. To breathe. To... Before you is a head. Pale and round. Floating in the water inches away from your own. The face of the man who spoke to you. You can't make out anything else. No neck, no torso, no limbs. Just the mask of his face, serious and still, with black holes where his eyes should be. //Come and see// You hear his voice in your head, each word as cold as ice. //Come and see the dreams of the dead// [[Your Mind Opens]]

For a moment, the drums have you and your mind goes blank. You take a step forward. Feel the water running across your feet. Then blink, free from the spell. //Oh no... no, no, no// You turn, running back into the port. Trying to escape. Something growls and rises up behind you, like a wave. Then the water falls across you and you're yanked back and down. Into the sea and into the dark. The impact knocks the air from your lungs. You breathe in, and swallow. Spasm as salt water burns down into your lungs. You're drowning, lost in the silt. Washed away with the tide. //You should have been braver. If you were, you wouldn't have to remember this moment for the rest of your long life.// And the voice in your head is the voice of the night's tide, sliding back and forth on a rocky beach. (set: $IsDrowned to false) [[Your Mind Opens]]

You fling yourself back, off the platform and out into the void. Fall, into the darkness. Above *** Cora ran her hands over $name. "Her skin's cold. She's dead." Behind her, Hibi wept. "But... s-she was fine! S-s-she was just with us hours ago! What happened?" The old woman shook her head. "Don't know... It's like her heart just gave out." //'You have died and been lost to history yet maybe, just maybe, escaped a worst fate. Would you like to try again?'// [[Begin the Story]]

"Save me!" You scream into the void as you fall. Above you, the platform shrinks to a pinpoint and then vanishes altogether. A wind tears at you, sending you tumbling. You flail, knowing you're going to die—that you're going to be lost in this dream and never wake up. Then something is there with you. Bubbles rise around you, each so pale they gleam in the darkness. They break around you, popping in clusters. Each time one pops, you hear your own voice calling back to you: "Save me! Save me!"—a chorus that grows and grows into a babble. Behind you, you feel hands—first one, then two, then dozens—snaking across your back and around your limbs. Slowing your fall until it ceases and you float, suspended in space. "We will, oh dreamer," something hisses in your ear. Something else makes a trilling noise that might be laughter. Then teeth bite down into your flesh, tearing through skin and bone. And you wake, screaming, flailing until you realize you're still on the road, with only Hibi and Cora staring at you in horror. [[Push On]]

The woman moves across you, and the darkness beneath her hood swallows you whole. You feel arms wrap around you, holding you rigid, as if the world is pressed against you. You feel her belly, taut against yours. What might be skin is cold to the touch. "Don't be afraid." Her voice is the softest of whispers, sand falling onto rock. "You wanted this, after all." //What's happening?// "A change of sorts. A birth." She laughs. "Something wonderful." [[Your Mind Opens]]

"No!" You scrabble back, trying to get past her, trying to run. The clearing seems to stretch, growing longer with every step. You look back and she's still crouching by the rock. Little more than a shape in the dusk light. (If: $Hasdog is true)[You hear the dog bark. Once. Twice. Whining in fear.] Then she's on you. You feel her cloak flap around you, your limbs tangled by something that feels like linen but is cold, almost frozen and muscular. The hood lunges over you, and her voice whispers, "The worms crawl in..." You scream and push back against the woman, but she crumbles at your touch, giving way like rotting wood. You feel that horrible strength, then something like soft earth. You feel her fall across you, dirt smothering you, burying you alive. The thing on you kisses your forehead. "...then the worms begin to feed." And they do. (set: $IsBeast to True) [[Your Mind Opens]]

You take a step back, then stop. In front of you, the flame seems higher, flaring up into a pillar a dozen feet high. Behind it, the stranger is an indistinct blur—a dark shape that shifts and coils, snaking up into the sky. You watch, hypnotized. All thoughts of escape are forgotten. [[Walk Closer to the Fire]]

The flame is a tower before you, blue-hot. So strong you can feel your skin begin to blister as you approach it. (If: $Hasdog is true)[Behind you, the dog whines in fear but it's far away and drowned out by the roar of the fire.] The thing gestures again. "Come to us. Come and See." [[Walk Through the Flame]] [[Resist and Walk Around the Fire]]

That animal part of you resists the whisper, fearing the pain. You stumble forward, trying to move around the fire to avoid touching it, only to see the flame catch the hem of your tunic. You stare down in shock, watching the fire spread. //Huh. I don't feel anything. I...// A moment later, you begin to scream as your flesh ignites. The stranger stands above you, the flame at his back, watching as you writhe and roll on the ground, screaming for aid. He draws closer, and you smell the scent of a cremation—ash, incense, and human fat. "You should have been braver. No matter. Pain is... instructive." (set: $IsBurned to True) [[Your Mind Opens]]

"Come to us." Not around, but straight through the fire. //He says this and you know, instinctively, it's a test.// You think of the Dream, of the strange night sky blossoming above you. You hold your breath and step into the flame. Your tunic ignites, burning away. The fire races up it and across your skin. But you're not consumed. You stare in wonder as it dances across your arms and hands, blossoming like spring flowers. Each flame delicate as a butterfly's wings. You feel... wonderful. Feeling the ecstasy of the moment. //This is magic.// You think this and remember the stories you longed for as a child. The fire is on your face now, and you breathe it in, exhaling smoke and crying molten tears. All you see now is the fire. You wonder if you're dying, if you're nothing but a burnt corpse. Then you hear his voice again. "Such bravery. Rare for your species." You feel his hand on yours, cracking and coming apart. The remnant of a log from an evening's fire, all ash, charcoal, and dust. "Come now. Come and see." And you do. [[Your Mind Opens]]

"Boy. That escalated. That escalated really fast." This was a variant of an idea I had for an alternative history of the world. One which replaced the Greek myth of Atlantis with R'yleh, Lovecraft's haunted, sunken city. Once I had that initial idea, the world wrote itself. When did it happen? As mentioned in the setting bit, 1200 BC was a perfect period. Something (we still don't know what) caused the old empires of the middle-east to roll over and die. In the space of a few decades. And, luckily for a writer, a group called 'The Sea People' is linked to the collapse. I imagined surviviors (or their servants) fleeing the city and spreading out across the world. When they mated with humans? They created bloodlines. Men and women capable of manipulating reality; magic with a generous helping of Old One nastiness. Magic that's akin to radiation - powerful but boy... can it gobble you up. I spent a few weeks playing a game of 'what if?'. I'd studied ancient and medieval history in university- from there I picked key points where things flipped as time moved forward. Did Rome fall? (no) Would any religion exist or would everyone worship Cthulhu and its ilk? (the latter). What would the first Emperor of China be like? What would the Aztecs carve on the steps of their pyramids? Which led to a few of those refugees spreading out and mating with humans. Magic would exist, but it was strange, eldritch and demonic. Most religions would eventually be consumed by churches to Cthulhu and Hastur. That kind of thing. Creatures and beings who appear in the story are based on, among others, Shoggoths, Nyarlatotep, Yog-Sothoth, Deep Ones and others. With less focus on horror and more on the awe they inspire. It's inspired by a few things including, among others: * Civ 6 Ethiopia source pack that added Secret Societies to world history. * Neil Gaiman's 'A Study In Emerald' (Twisted lovecraft version of Sherlock Holmes) * Lovecraft's Call of Cthulhu and his Dreamland cycle * Michael Moorcock's stories of Melnibone - a somewhat forgotten fantasy series that used to be popular. * A picture by Iain McCaig of the Little Mermaid; one that's beautiful but also alien, like some deep sea variant with great black eyes and phosphorescent skin. One day I might write this into the first chapter of a fictional 'History of a Strange World' with each chapter being a different historical event such as the Fall of Rome or the Mongol Invasions. Chronicling the spread and slow delusion of magic, the rise and fall of empires and the Old Ones, still slumbering beneath the waves. [[Begin the Story]]

You let go. Then immediately think, //This was a bad idea.// You hear someone shout in horror. Then you're sliding downwards, faster and faster. Trying not to fall head over heels, you feel your clothing tear, rocks slash at your skin, and bruises form on your back and thighs. The valley floor rushes towards you. You fall through shrubs, smash past overturned trees, and taste blood in your mouth. For a moment, you’re flying, tumbling through the air. Then you hit the ground with enough force to leave you lying there, breathless and gasping. So bruised, even the smallest movement hurts. (If: $Hasdog is true)[Next to you, the dog slides to a stop and shakes dust from its fur. Licks your face and races off with an excited bark. //Well... one of us is fine.// The thought makes you laugh, each one agony for your bruised ribs.] It's almost sunset by the time you get to your feet. [[The Clearing]]

You breathe in and out, then move on before your muscles give out. Step after step, not looking down, you finally reach the other side and collapse onto the path. You turn towards your friends, wave, and signal that you'll be back soon. They wave back, might have shouted something, but night is falling and the wind is rising. Whatever they said is indistinct. So you press on, along a strip of rock, then up again until you're walking along cliffs. Far below, the water breaks on rocks. Above you, the heavens whirl—cold, dark, and impossibly wide. You stare up for a moment, and the expanse makes you feel dizzy. You think of the Peddler and his talk of a 'Hungry Sky,' then shudder and concentrate on walking. After some time, you see what looks like a pile of stones on the edge of the cliff. As you draw closer, you realize it's the ruin of an old lighthouse. Damaged by the earthquake but still intact, with an odd blue light flickering inside it. //Blue? That can't be right.// You blink, sure your eyes are tricking you. You walk towards it before slowing. //Who lit it?// (If: $Hasdog is true)[The Dog growls, its haunches bristling with fear.] Inside, the stones are clean, as if the area has been scourged. In the center, a flame is burning, rising from the stone floor like vapor. No logs, no fuel—just fire, blue. Behind the fire, a man is sitting cross-legged on the floor. At least you think it's a man. He wears a long cloak that covers him from head to toe, leaving only bony arms and legs jutting out. It might be a trick of the light, but each limb seems longer than a man's should be. His skin is burnt, covered in old scar tissue that shines in the light. "Um... hello?" "Y'ah nog gof'n ot shuggoth. Ah nafl ah'lloigshogg ya." His voice crackles, each word harsh. "I... I can't understand you." The man shrugs and gestures for you to approach. [[Enter the Lighthouse]]