Chapter Text
There are a few moments in time that feel more tangible than the rest of your half-formed slurry of memories.
The words, “I’ll see you soon.”
Then, “Hey. I love you.”
Then a knife in your heart, and the blissful repose of ignorance. Less blissful, the more you think of it. The déjà vu seeps in—slowly, like water through the cracked foundations of a basement, not the glaring double-take you did whenever He tried to convince you this wasn’t your second or seventy-thousandth time on a path in the woods.
“All these shards of broken glass on the floor… are they also supposed to be you?”
That one was far harder to spot amongst all the noise—was it less important? less recent? less common?—but the flare of indignance you feel leaves an impression on you, even though you can tell there was no malice intended. Or maybe it’s sadness you feel. Worry? The words fade from your mind as quickly as they materialize, leaving only a sticky unpleasantness in your chest that lasts longer than you would like.
“Ever the passive player, always reacting and never acting. But it’s woven into your nature, isn’t it?”
What did that mean? You did act, sometimes. You grabbed the knife or you didn’t; you killed her, you set her free, you walked away entirely. Or was that only in reaction to what she did, or what He told you? But wasn’t she also always reacting to what you thought of her? That particular contradiction spins your head more than most of the contradictions that make up you and Her.
It’s her eyes—not Her eyes, not the Shifting Mound, but the princess—that pull you out of your reverie. You can see the question behind them: what are you thinking about? No suspicion, no urgency, just a question. Perhaps an invitation to share, not even a request. It makes you feel both warm and afraid at the same time, because there is no answer to give her—the thoughts, memories, whatever it was that had pulled your attention away from this moment drifts from your mind like falling leaves. Still she waits, patiently, the pristine blade held in both of her quiet hands.
“...You’ve been standing here a long time. I think she’s waiting for you to say something.”
Hero’s voice startles you, so drowned in your own thoughts that you forget he is among them. Except he isn’t really, is he? He didn’t see or hear any of your aimless, dreamy stupor. To him, you’d just been some temporarily silent presence in the head he called a home. More questions. Does he have thoughts of his own that you aren’t privy to, and he only offers his advice to you once he’s thought it over in his own mind-within-a-mind? Or is every little fraction of him brought to your ear as soon as it comes into existence?
“Hey. What’s going on up there? Talk to me.”
You shake your head, blinking, trying to stay grounded. Too many thoughts, too many questions, pulling you away from the reality of this moment. Except, even this moment still feels vague and familiar. Is this moment real, or is it just another—
Stop it.
You clench your fists, talons digging into the flesh of your palms. Pain. Pain was grounding, at least.
“Ow! Stop… what? Are you alright? Can you still hear me?”
Yes. Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.
“Well, then who were you talking to? Is He here? I thought I was supposed to be able to hear Him too, if He’s here with us.”
No, he isn’t here. I just got… lost in my thoughts. I’m trying to stay focused, but it’s hard.
“I mean… what else is there to think about right now? This is it, this is the moment you were working towards for so long. Are you having second thoughts? Tell me what’s going on, let me help if I can. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”
But is he? Is that all he is, some voice that exists solely to help you? Is he—
You dug your fingers in deeper, wetness pricking up around your claws.
“Ow! You know I can feel that too, right?”
I think I’m unraveling.
There’s a pause before he speaks again. “...Okay. Unraveling. What does that mean?”
You look at the princess once more. There’s an understanding of some sort in her eyes. Patience. She lets her arms rest, the blade held lightly in one hand resting against her thigh rather than tightly in both hands, poised for a lethal strike. Gratefully, you close your eyes.
Unraveling. One subject to contemplate, one question to focus on.
I think I know too much. I think… I think I’ve been here before. I think I remember being here before.
“And that’s… not supposed to happen, given everything we just talked about. We’re supposed to forget everything, go back to the beginning beginning. Even if we have been here before.”
Yes.
“Okay. Then you know a little more than I do right now. How do those past lives affect how you see this moment, right now? What sort of context do they give you?”
I don’t know! I know too much and it’s still not enough. I can’t… I can’t kill her. But I don’t think I can let her go. But—I don’t know, I don’t know! It feels like every time I come here I’m even less sure about what to do.
“Okay, okay, breathe. I hear you. This is… an incredibly tough position to be in. And a lot of responsibility to put on one person. Even a god,” Hero says, voice soft and soothing. You chuckle a little, in spite of yourself.
“The princess’s plan buys you more time to figure it out. Maybe, if you remember enough when you start up again—you can talk about it with me, and the others when you find them. Maybe having a couple more heads in on this can help you straighten everything out. Though I suppose He might be able to listen in then, but… I don’t know how much that really matters at this point. Might be annoying, but I think we can stomach that given the situation.”
You aren’t sure having more input will help at all, but right now you’re so dazed and unsettled that the thought of being back on a simple, familiar path in the woods sounds like paradise.
“I’ll see you soon.”
The words slip unbidden from your mouth, almost involuntarily. You open your eyes to see the princess nod and raise the knife.
“Hey. I love you.”
Then, all too clearly, you have a terrible realization. For this to work, you have to believe that she can make you forget. And you don’t, if your bleeding memory is any indication. You don’t believe anymore.
But you don’t have time to contemplate the consequences of that realization. There’s an agonizingly familiar, piercing pain in your chest; then everything goes dark, and you die.