The Final Voyage: Part ???

The Adulterine Castle, One Final Time

Everything that isn't here has melted away, like snow on a spring morning. The castle that doesn't exist is all that remains of existence. And all that remains within the castle (for its twisting passages and spiraling spires are not here) is the yawning absence of an Anchoress.

Enter the cell, and end it
The Anchoress is not within.

Game Instructions: This will not consume your Immaterial Material and give you a Destiny that increases your Steward of the Discordance skill.

The cat sits on the sill of a tiny barred window. No light – nothing at all – can be seen outside. "Ah," it says, through broken teeth. "I was counting the days until your arrival. But it seems I ran out of days before you got here."

You'd sit on a chair if there was a chair; there isn't.

"It's funny." There's no humour in its voice. "Our conversations always were one-sided, weren't they?"

You'd look it right in the eyes, if there were eyes; there aren't.

"But that was then, and then didn't happen. I suppose now isn't really happening, either."

You'd smile, if you had a mouth; you don't.

No future.

"So many laws and you went and found that one." You open the mouth you do not have.

A law is enacted:
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No! No! No! No! No! No! No! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

You made a promise.

(no.) You do not will your mouth shut, for you do not have will, for there is nothing left of you. "Ah, so you are here." Its broken teeth chitter as it speaks. "I was wondering when the real you would arrive."

It knew? "If I remember correctly, I told you that this would be the grandest thing ever witnessed." it smiles, "So yes, of course I knew."

"In that single moment of oblivion, everything that you are, everything that you were, and everything that you could ever be, was destroyed." It leaps from the windowsill, to walk with no legs toward you. "But even a Judgement cannot destroy that which Cannot Be." it tilts is head, still smiling "In this moment, we are more alike than we are different."

A single thread appears in front of you.

A thread is created.

A new thread. "Of course, your job isn't done yet." It speaks, "That thread is all that you have left. Follow it, and bring about the ending you so desire."

The thread in your hand does not lead forward. It does not fray in this impossible future. It is as solid as any of the threads you have touched in the Loom of Irem. It is more real than anything you have ever touched.

But it does not lead forward.

"The present is what happens when the future leaves Parabola. In which case: have you ever wondered what the past is?"

Tug on the thread
And witness what the Black once did.

stars

An egg hatches. From within, a light so blinding that the stars themselves pale in comparison. A cry, a laughter, a warmth that fills a parent with unbridled joy. A single flame is born, burning beautifully in colors never seen before.

A betrayal, the enactment of a law: forbidden birth. The flame ceases to Be, and the parent shrieks in dismay. A law is enacted: punishment for the perpetrator. The parent, too, shall cease to Be.

The parent became broken, its light turned inward, inward, inward, until it was no light at all. There was nothing left of the parent.

But a flame is light, and light is law. The flame endured, the flame grew, the flame outlasted. A baby's cry became a howl of defiance. A law was enacted: All that Is-Not shall Be of Me.

And that flame, that singular flame, now calls to you.

It's ???
Welcome to
The Flame at the Heart of Parabola,
delicious friend!

Welcome home.

Home

You see yourself as a child, frolicking alone in the beautiful landscapes. You see yourself pulling flowers made of candy and branches made of silk. You see yourself making a new home each day, and a new friend every seventh. You see yourself spreading your wings wide as you glided to the ground. You see yourself crash and cry. You see yourself accepting the ground's apologies. You see yourself trying again, and falling on a comfortable cushion.*

You see yourself wandering, wanting to explore every nook and cranny of this beautiful world. You see yourself hopping rapids that turn into gentle streams. You see yourself swinging from rotted branches that are as sturdy as iron. You see yourself never wanting for company, or food, or rest. You see yourself happy.

And you see yourself enter a cave, a cave full of pinprick points of light. Dark as the blackest night yet as beautiful as the brightest star. You see yourself laughing, and jumping, and living.

Go deeper into the cave
A growing light at the end of the tunnel captivates your attention.

What Shall Be, Was

You see yourself walk deeper. You see yourself find a light. You see yourself approach it. You see yourself find a flame. A flame that flickers weakly, yet stubbornly. A flame that captivates your attention. A flame that burns with no heat. A flame whose light creates no law. You see yourself seeing yourself. You see yourself gazing upon your past - then future - and becoming horrified. You see yourself running away, the flame of time burned deep within your heart. You see yourself deciding that this was all just a nightmare luring you. But it was not.*

The flame called you then, just as it called you now.

What Was, Shall be.

What Is, Was, And Shall Forever Be

This is the very heart of Parabola. The Flame that ushered its creation, the Flame that expanded itself until it could touch all points of reality. The Flame that defined what Is-Not, so that the Judgements could never fully destroy that which Is. The Flame is Parabola. Parabola is the flame.*

*The present is what happens when the future leaves Parabola. But here, here at Parabola's very heart, every past, every present, every future; it all condenses and compresses into a single moment. Here, there is no difference between then and now, between yesterday or tomorrow. Between the beginning of the universe, or its final moment. In the Flame, everything is as one.

In the Flame, you see another
Another who gazes into its heart.

Two Futures, Endlessly Circling

You see a man born in a city far removed from Amarna. (You see a Curator meet a human thousands of years ago.) You see a child unwanted and neglected by his parents. (You see a Curator who has a human as part of their collection.) You see a son taking whatever freedom it can find. (You see a love slowly blossom between the two.) You see a child cast away by his parents. (You see a birth impossible outside the Is-Not).

You see a betrayal that brings the son low. (You see a separation forced by the laws of the Wilderness). You see a climb back to glory. (You see a happy child raised by dreams.) You see an opportunity for vengeance. (You see a teen take to the stars.) You see a complete lack of remorse. (You see an adult branded a criminal.) You see a burned letter. (You see a heavy heart weep openly.)

You see great schemes come to fruition. (You see a planet called Axile.) You see a game be played. (You see an outcast be accepted.) You see a Heart's Desire be fulfilled. (You see a loving found family.) You see a future be decided. (You see the Messenger arrive to strike a bargain.) You see great deals and great sacrifices. (You see the breaking of a contract.) You see a deep yearning for ideals. (You see the outcast leave his family, so he could better protect them.) You see the Seventh City. (You see the First City.)

You see the final preparations of a plan. (You see an Ambassador try to end a war.) You see the taking of forbidden candles. (You see attempts to help whoever he could.) You see the learning of a Knock. (You see the purchase of the Second City). You see the creation of a Law. (You see the scornful eyes and hating scowls.) You see seven escapes sealed, and seven crises created. (You see their plotting, their coming betrayal.) You see them go to their Final Reckoning. (You see him go to his Final Reckoning.)

You see (a fellow Curator) who understands (you better) than anyone else (ever could).

The Final Moment of Acceleration

The Improbable Collusion of Two Unrelated Perils

Threads appear upon your hand. (He plucks each one, discarding them all.) Only one is left when you're done. (He holds the opposite end of your thread.) You gaze upon it, to see the ending on the other side. (You gaze upon his eyes, to see the plan forming on his mind.)

"We are both Curators. Let us strike a bargain."

(Speak, then. Let us see what you propose.)
"The only option we both have left.

An Exchange Of Burdens

"Tomorrow, I go to my Reckoning. Today, I see you facing yours." (I have already failed mine.) "Time is flexible in Parabola. Here, even more so." (There is nothing left of me.) "Enough to be here, where everything that Is-Not converges." (What I seek to do is deemed impossible.) "Parabola is the place where the impossible becomes possible." (What do you propose?)

"I have the means to save you from your Reckoning." (What means are those?) "I will weave for you a new fate, one where you can succeed." (Is that even possible outside Irem?) You tug on the thread. (You feel the tug come from the other side.) "With the aid of the Flame, even your task should be easily achieved." (And what is your price?)

"A promise." (I cannot save you from your reckoning.) "No, you cannot. All my futures converge upon tomorrow." (So what can I do?) "You will find a way to undo my fate." (There will be so very little left of you.) "More than there is left of you." (Less than either of us needs.) "More than we will have otherwise."

The only option you both have left.

The Last Hour With A Friend

You have no hope (without each other).

(Accept the bargain.)
"Become Fire, Rather Than Be Burned"

(Discard this thread.)
This choice will lead to the immediate and irrevocable deletion of your account. There is no unique text beyond this point. To do this is to render everything you have done so far pointless. The only winner in this future, is the White.

Writ Upon the Heavens

You sigh in relief. "Thank you. Now I can face tomorrow without regrets." (You know that is not true.) "It isn't." (I will save you, I promise.) "Thank you. Thank you." You cannot help but weep.

You have made a promise.

The Last Hour With a Friend

You wipe your eyes on your fur. "Thank you." You repeat. "May I... May I have your name?"

(You may know my name, yes.) You laugh; someone who's also dealt with the Fingerkings. (Thoroughly.) You smile. (But if everything goes to plan, then I intend to change my name one last time.) "Ah, of course. How about you tell me your new name when we next meet?" (Of course, but we are Curators; what do I get in return?)

You grin.

Weave their fate
Fulfill your end of the bargain.

"runtery, aberration"

The light on the edge of sleep is mine. I am Mr. Candles.

And I am glad I met you.

ASCEND NOW TO YOUR PLACE IN THE SUN

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. That was the promise.

And you intend to keep it.