Scene 1

Fish and merfolk are bustling about their business, as the days of Spiral past are once again brought forth and made great again. Between the traders going about their business, fisherspouses chasing after young children and the folks just trying to make their way, a viperfish, cuttlefish and surgeonfish huddle together in front of a rather plain looking front door. They look young – children, perhaps. Nothing about them draws any attention.

As the three cautiously approach, the door bursts open – a clownfish rushes out, a koi in hot pursuit. They rush around the street, the clownfish holding something in one of its fins, as the koi dashes after – crying out. Passers-by are alarmed, and as the koi tackles the clownfish and the two tumble together along the street, the koi sits atop the clownfish with a grin on their face. A small group, including the three strangers, gather around them.

“Gotcha! Give it back!”

Despite initial alarm, the crowd eases as the clownfish grins and laughs, rolling over to throw the koi into the muddy street.

“It’s mine, it’s mine! Can’t catch me!”

The koi looks exasperated as the clownfish dashes off again, and the two do a couple of laps through the now-dispersing group before dashing back into the small house – the door slamming behind them.

“Urgh, those two. Can’t separate ‘em, to be honest. But you’ve got to love ‘em for it,” chuckles a nearby cod to the three – noticing their interest in the scene.

“Haha, really? Are they well-known round here?” asks the viperfish. Something about the way the question is phrased feels odd coming from a child.

“Well-known?” The cod looks incredulous. “Not unless you’re a resident of Slime Alley like us, I s’pose, but you’ve got to back your own – they might be terrors, but they’re our terrors. Don’t s’pose you three have got your own parents to be running off to, have you?”

The viperfish gives a small chuckle, though the other two seem a little too distracted to notice the conversation going on around them. The cod looks slightly taken aback – as though confused by this behaviour.

“You new ‘round here?”

“No, not really. Are you?” continues the viperfish.

“Nah, nah, don’t worry. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Thought yous was older than you are, but my mistake, my mistake.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it all the t- ow!”

The surgeonfish, against all odds, elbows the viperfish in the ribs.

“Huh?” the cod looks a little confused.

Some frantic whispering goes on, though the cod seems to lose interest and moves on. The cuttlefish, seemingly not paying any attention whatsoever, makes their way towards the front door – though pauses before knocking.

“Don’t worry – I’ve got this in hand. I think it might cause us more harm than good if all three of us approach them at once, but I’m happy to set the scene here. Do my bit to make friends – like we agreed, remember?”

The viperfish and surgeonfish back off, as though keeping guard. The door is opened halfway by a clownfish, though this one is markedly older – and female. She looks sceptical.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“We’re not interested in helping out any children who aren’t ours. We’re poor enough as it is. Go back to your own family!”

“Oh please, miss! Please! I just wanted to play with the Fool!”

“And how do you know their name?”

“Well, I saw them playing on the street, miss, and I just wanted to join in! But I was nervous – I haven’t got many friends!”

The clownfish’s face softens, and the door is opened wider.

“Oh, come on then. Just this once!”

“Thanks, miss!”

Once inside, it becomes apparent that this is a true clownfish home: anemones grow on the walls, their tendrils drifting curtain-like over the windows, while the coral walls and shell furniture give the one-roomed house a real homely feel. The older clownfish introduces the cuttlefish to the younger clownfish and the koi – both looking slightly nervous on a playmat over to one side of the room – while a second older clownfish potters about in a makeshift kitchen, pots and pans bubbling on the stove.

“This is cuttlefish. I want you three to play nicely, okay? Remember, it’s always good to make new friends, okay?”

The cuttlefish wanders over cautiously, while the other two watch them.

“Hey,” begins the smaller clownfish.

“Hey,” responds the cuttlefish, “what’s your name?”

“I’m the Fool, and this is my best friend: the Magician. Want to play?”

It looks like the two have been stacking shells on top of each other, and then pulling them out one by one and stacking them higher.

“You know how to play Jonga?” asks the koi.

“No? How do you play?”

“Well, watch!”

The koi takes out one of the shells towards the base of the small tower, which then wobbles a little and then topples over. They burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” the cuttlefish continues, “let me help!”

At this, the cuttlefish starts rebuilding the tower – gently encouraging the koi to join in. Tears stream down their face, though gradually they start to help as the tower begins to take shape again. The clownfish joins in, and the three of them rebuild it as it was before.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to cry – I know it’s tough sometimes. I struggle sometimes too when things don’t go the way I want, but we can always go back and do things again, can’t we?”

The koi gives a weak smile, and the three begin playing the game once again.

A little time goes on, and the three of them play a few more games together: Guess Jo?, BuckaJo and Jonopoly – though after an hour or so they start to get bored. “So I should probably tell you a secret,” says the cuttlefish, a little sheepishly.

“Yeah?” asks the clownfish.

“Well, I actually saw you two playing outside earlier. It’s why I knocked on the door, ‘cause I wanted friends to play with.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet! I’m really glad you did!” says the koi with a smile. The two have really taken a shine to each other.

“Yeah! Me too! But I did want to ask you something, ‘cause you seemed to be chasing each other over something?”

Both the clownfish and the koi look at each other, guilty expressions on their faces.

“Was it something secret? It looked important!”

The cuttlefish’s voice seems to slip, slightly – becoming a little less child-like, as though with anticipation.

“Well, I don’t really want to t-”

“They’re going away soon, on a journey. It’s a picture of my parents. They took them in after, you know…”

The koi blushes bright red.

“Don’t tell them that! I don’t want to talk about it!”

The clownfish looks down, guiltily. For a second, the cuttlefish looks disappointed – though this is quickly replaced by a look of sympathy.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to. Will you still be my friend?” pleads the clownfish.

The koi, sniffing a little, embraces them in a hug.

“You’re still my best friend.”

“But I’m still better than you at Jonga!” laughs the clownfish.

“No you aren’t!”

The cuttlefish, looking on, takes out a strange, egg-shaped object out of their pocket – pulling a pin out from it. After a few seconds, a pulse happens, and the scene begins to move faster and faster around them – though they remain seemingly unaffected.

The scene around them flashes at lightning speed, figures moving in and out in bursts, and the gently swaying tentacles on the walls twitching and writhing so fast as to be imperceptible. The figures rarely seem to change much, despite being a blur, though over time the small clownfish and the koi seem to grow larger and larger, and the games they play – both indoors and out – change along with them.

The fast-forward scene begins to slow, gradually braking back to normal speeds. During all of this, the cuttlefish has made their way back out onto the street. Somehow.

As the scene reforms, it’s obvious that some time has passed – though it’s not clear how much. The light and heady feel of past Spiral has become darker – more familiar, somehow – and the atmosphere of those still bustling about has lost some of its charm and optimism.

The younger clownfish, rather than playing outside with their friend, is now at the end of the street at a small, wooden stall – hawking merchandise.

“Get your landfolk figurines here! Any and all supermarine, terran and earthen dolls! Fill all your fantasy needs! Perfect for children!”

A forced grin on their face, they hold up a couple of dolls – looking very out of place with their legs, hands bulbous heads. A couple of children laugh at spectacle. Something about the figures looks familiar. Jo-like, even.

“Ewww! Their eyes point in the same direction!” shouts one.

“And they’ve got four fins. It’s so creepy!” pipes up another.

“Well, now, not quite,” begins the clownfish. “They’re called legs, not fins, and-”

But the children aren’t listening, and the Fool’s shoulders slump in a dejected sigh.

The trio have been watching, and the viperfish – taking pity – approaches.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, what do you think? No-one wants any of my stuff. And who can blame them? Look at the quality on this thing… Oh cuttlefish,” they continue, “it’s so good to see you. Are these your friends you’ve brought?”

As they say this, one of the dolls’ heads snaps off, and begins floating away, unnoticed.

“Of course, of course – these are viperfish and surgeonfish. We met recently. I’m sorry to hear things aren’t going so well at the moment. But it’s good to see you, old friend.”

The clownfish perks up a little.

“Business hasn’t been great, though. I’ve not sold any all day!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry… that’s terrible,” simpers the viperfish. “Well, I for one am happy to buy a few if that’ll help?”

“Ahem, yes. Me too,” adds the surgeonfish – a noticeable awkwardness in their tone.

The clownfish gives a weak smile, though their eyes then widen in wonder.

“Magician! Magician!” they shout.

At the end of the street, a sleek, golden koi has just turned around the corner. Something about them is important – noble, even – and not the kind to be slumming it round here. Though they seem oddly comfortable with the place.

The koi takes notice, and swims over in a smooth swish.

“Oh, it’s you. I wondered if you’d still be here.”

“How’s it been? I’ve heard you’ve been on adventures outside the city! What’s it been like? Tell me everything!”

“Oh, you know. It is what it is. I do what I must. I wouldn’t really want to bore you with the details, Fool.” There is a noticeably posher edge to their accent.

The clownfish is unmistakably disappointed.

“I serve the city, and if that means grand adventures outside, then so be it! I don’t want to seem immodest, though.”

“Well, can’t you tell your best friend what you’ve been up to? I’m sure these folks would be keen to here – and cuttlefish and I have really missed you so. Don’t you want to meet our new friends, too?”

The Magician looks at the four with an imperious expression – their expensive clothes flashing in the light shining down from above. They open their mouth to speak, but before they have a chance-

“Aren’t you two supposed to be best friends?” demands the viperfish.

Taken aback, the koi opens and closes their mouth a couple of times.

“Yeah – isn’t that right?” adds the surgeonfish. “I mean, me and viperfish over there – well, sometimes we couldn’t seem any more different, as I’m sure you can see, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have each other’s backs.”

“Well, yes, that does sound about right. I’m very happy for you…” mutters the koi, a little abashed.

“Think about it, though! When I’m off exploring, making grand discoveries – as, I’m sure you know – is a very common occurrence around these parts,” the surgeonfish continues – falling, effortlessly, into a monologue.

“Though not quite as well as me, I have to say,” glints the viperfish.

“Well, ahem,” the viperfish regains their posture, “that’s to be debated, of course, but when I’m off making grand discoveries then I always remember those at home who I’ll come back to one day. Don’t you? It’s only natural, isn’t it?”

“Well, I, uh, I suppose so. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” retorts the Magician.

“That’s right, yes! But you didn’t really make much of an effort to seek the Fool out, did you? Didn’t really seem like you were pleased to see them. After all, what’s home for, if not friends?”

“You can talk…” interjects the viperfish. “It’s not like you come and see me – though we both know that’s downright jealousy, of course,” their voice barely audible.

“Downright jealousy? You’re not the one who-”

“Alright, alright, enough! I get your point! Look, I’m sorry, Fool. I’ve been away far too long. I really did come back to see you, but when I spotted you I just couldn’t bear to put aside my pride when I saw what had become of you. I’m sorry.”

Tears in their eyes, the clownfish rushes forward and embraces the koi.

“I’m sorry too. I should have warned you before you left that this might happen. I always knew it would!”

“Oh bravo! Bravo!” congratulates the surgeonfish. “I knew you both could do it!”

Pulse.

Once again, the scene around them begins to flash and blur, getting faster and faster.

Scene 2

The streets are completely deserted, apart from the five gathered outside the front door: the viperfish and surgeonfish, as well as another clownfish, lobster and an old, gnarled turtle. The yellow glow of the surrounding gaslamps casts a reassuring light over the otherwise pitch-black streets, and small silverfish dither around them casting a flickering, ever-shifting gleam. The viperfish makes for the door, and knocks three times with a solemn rhythm. The silverfish jostling round the nearest lamp scatter, leaving a trail of bubbles in their wake, though none take notice.

The door swings open, and a rather haggard, male clownfish is revealed behind it.

“Thank you all. We cannot express how grateful we are that you accepted our invitation. All of you. Please, please come in. Hurry. It’s urgent.”

Ushering the gathering inside, the five are met by a second, female clownfish, who embraces the first, and a third – sat over in the corner, seemingly preoccupied with a book. Where before the place had felt homely, the dim light and floating anemonic tentacles feel deeply wrong – casting shadowpuppets. The coral walls and shell-like furniture feel alien, unwelcoming.

“Fool, I’m sure you’re wondering why we invited over these guests today,” begins the father.

The youth looks up from their book, nervousness masked by their feigned indifference.

“Not really, no. Look, father, I’ve been far too busy with-”

“Look, child, we really need to speak. There’s something that the two of us have kept from you for a very long time, and we can’t keep it a secret any longer,” begins the mother.

The Fool’s expression is undoubtedly confusion, mixed with fear.

“W- what do you mean? A secret? What have you been keeping from me?”

“Well, that’s why we’ve invited these five over. Together we’re going to explain it to you. Please, don’t worry. It’s nothing to worry about – not yet, at least.”

“Not yet?”

“Never mind, child. Let us finish,” continues the father. “Listen.”

“In the days of the Youth, there existed a darkness engulfed by nothing but waves and its own formless void below. The salty sea pressed downward, where no light from the sky could reach, and yet the Youth pressed ever onwards. Down, down down. In the empty darkness, it was not possible to tell which way was up, or which way was down.

“This was the Abyss. The water and darkness were but one, and it was a sea of stars. The Youth was protected from the crushing depths, and the darkness carried her voice as smoothly as in the sky above. This was the primeval place, where all was made one with itself.

“The Youth preoccupied herself with naming that which found her: that which wrapped itself around her arms felt as a snake, and so it was so. That which perched on her shoulder felt as a dove, and so it was so. All were named, and all floated upwards, becoming what they would be. Yet when the Youth gave a name, it was lost to her, and she could no longer recall the word she had uttered. She sealed her lips, giving no more, clinging onto what she could remember.

“But the Youth was not the only one who inhabited those depths. Sinking ever deeper, ever darker, the Abyss went ever onwards, a kaleidoscope of labyrinths, stretching, growing, extending in impossible geometry, into ever darker and eternal nothing.

“Yet at the bottom there was something. Something forgotten. Something eternal. Something hungry. The Youth never reached it: it had no name. Yet, within the Abyss, it schemed. Hating those with names and coveting the power it conveyed them. The Nameless One it was, and in secret sought to control them. The Youth was nowhere to be found, and her story is not this story. The Nameless One raged, and the waters shook. The Abyss was evermore given form: it was no longer nothing.

“The Nameless One, angered at this trick, was evermore known as the Named One, for we do not fear that which we know and can control. Yet they sought revenge. The void was now something, and with this form the Named One created a weapon: a tool with which it could master that of which it had been forced to become a part.”

The Fool’s eyes are wide, though they don’t speak. At this, the mother continues.

“Into it the Named One poured all of the Abyss under their domain: a never ending monument to their power and malice. With this tool, the Named One hoped to bring everything under their dominion, wielding the very power of Nothing against Everything.

“Yet there was one thing the Named One had not anticipated. Their power was absolute: eternal, unchanging and indomitable. As they forged their weapon from the Abyss, in their rage and hate, its power was concentrated beyond that of all understanding. So much so, that the Named One allowed the weapon to forge itself, drawing in the Abyss around it, becoming deeper and blacker. It was everything from nothing.

“The Named One plotted, their covetousness growing as their weapon forged itself in the waters of the Abyss. Nothing would stop it. Nothing could stop it. And the weapon became as black as black could be, and the draw of the Abyss within became so strong that the Named One felt fear. It had grown beyond their own power.

“In desperation, the Named One fled from the depths, ever upwards. Their consumption must begin. And yet the Named One, being named, was consumed by it. Their own name betrayed them to their weapon: consuming all which had form and was not void. The weapon, black and eternal, was lost.

“At least for a time. The weapon had but one weakness: a name. After the Named One fell, from their great plight out of the Abyss, the weapon fell upon the most unlikely of people: a Dancer. Pirouetting through the Abyss, a shade that existed only because the Youth had given them form. Yet the Dancer was not new; not naïve. They had long drifted through these waters, though few paid much attention.

“The Dancer thought to themselves, and to the one with which they had the deepest connection. The weapon glowed black, and the Dancer felt the end of the void. Existence. That which had given them form. They named it the Jword.

“Their humility saved them from the power of the Jword. They were not consumed, for the danger of the Jword comes from acknowledgement and power. The Named One had given power to the Abyss, and therefore it and they were consumed. The Dancer, being merely themselves and seeing that as enough, was safe. The Jword was not satisfied with this, and consumed that which was around them which lacked humility and drew power to itself.

“But there was one thing the Jword had not counted on: the Dancer swam upwards. Away. Out of the Abyss. Away from where the Jword could feed. Its power was reduced until nothing, to where the innocence of the world would protect and be protected from such a dangerous weapon. Only nothing can defeat temptation.

“Upon reaching the world, the custodians of the Spirits were granted the Jword, and would keep it – being blameless, and lacking any desire for power.”

“Yet,” and this is a new voice – the turtle, “this would not last. The world of the Youth would not remain; could not remain. The Spirits’ vision of what was to be was corrupted and changed by those they created and guided. Their custodians were changed by the merfolk of the city. Their Pearlescence became too much: too tempting. They gained desire.”

“Yet there was a great irony. As the merfolk changed the world with their Pearlescence, their desire for the Jword also grew. This corruption of the custodians further increased the clamour for the Jword to be reclaimed: as much as for safety as for its power. Much that was once known was ignored. The Jword was taken, and the scriptures dictated that the custodians be kept fed to sate their new addiction; their new lust for power.

“One custodian above all: Jocqueline. She led the custodians in their new-found quest for Pearlescence, and fought against the merfolk of Spiral over the Jword and the control of that silver substance. Above all, she holds a great power, also passed down, though its nature has never been revealed. She is a great threat.

“And yet the Jword remained dangerous. And so did the other custodians, filled with their longing. The Jword would destroy them and free the city, yet could not be wielded by any who held such power themselves. They must be entirely selfless and full of humility, or be destroyed. And so the Jword could be wielded by no-one: only those who lacked the will to use it could do so.”

The viperfish joins in.

“But there was a prophecy. A tale told of two orphaned siblings, whether by birth or fate, who would one day be united and divided because of the Jword. A clownfish and a koi, ever together and yet ever apart: neither complete without the other, and yet Spiral may only be saved when it is finally rid of the Beast, which they are destined to endure together.

“Only when one truly understands their destiny will the Jword finally be claimed by one who may wield it.”

“And,” begins the mother, “we believe that day has come. We need to be honest with you – completely honest. We’re not your real parents. Not really. We’re your Jodparents.”

The Fool’s eyes widen with shock, and tears well in their eyes.

“Please, don’t cry. We will always love you, and you will always have a home here on Slime Alley. But the time has come. Your parents died doing what they could for this city – an empire, once – but the Beasts destroyed them, as they have countless others.

“The Magician, your oldest friend, cannot endure them alone.”

“No, they can’t”, says the Fool, dejectedly.

“Their adventures have jaded them,” continues the father, “driven them away from Spiral. They are not what they once were. It is your destiny to save Spiral by fulfilling the prophecy. Do what you must.”

The tears streak down the Fool’s face, overwhelmed with both sadness and longing at the knowledge of their lost parents and the fate that has been wrought upon them. At this, the mother emerges with a long, wooden box, hooked tentacles etched into its surface. As she opens it, everyone’s vision is drawn to a darkness blacker than deepest black: its absence of light filling the space. There is a silent intelligence that lingers there, somehow.

“Take it,” encourages the other clownfish. “It has been passed down from generation to generation through your parents, their parents and so on. Though they have all been humble, none has had the humility and the courage to wield it; not until you, the one who was prophesied.”

The Fool picks up the weapon, which glows menacingly in its darkness. After mere seconds, those within the room feel themselves and others being physically drawn towards it – summoned, even – though the Fool appears unaffected. Seeing this, they hastily put the weapon back in the box and close it. The strange force stops.

“Thank you. I’m humbled,” they say.

Scene 3

The central square of Spiral is near-deserted, though it is littered with the remains of the revolution: barricades, discarded torches and banners thrown aside – seemingly forgotten in the face of larger threats. Where once people had marched against the palace, now only a few hurry back and forth on urgent errands – not enough have stayed behind to attempt a clear-up, but instead the Empress is holed up in her palace: attempting to lead a city of which she is so out of touch.

Though the revolutionaries and Imperial Guard are nominally fighting together against the Beasts, Spiral itself suffers the consequences – few remain within the city to ensure its vital administration and services continue, and it festers in their absence. The Empress, questioning her decisions, holes herself up in the uppermost chambers – speaking only with her most trusted counsellors. Though only the High Priestess now remains, as well as a few trusted administrators. They bicker around her, harrying the Empress, as the High Priestess looks on in serene silence

There is a knock on the door, and the Empress calls for the person to enter. It opens hesitantly, and a lobster peeks through – an expression of awkward discomfort on their tiny face. The advisers cease their bickering, and wait for the Empress to speak.

“Uh, yes, hello. Empress. Your highness. I wanted to bring word to you from the battle with the Beast,” begins the lobster.

The Empress raises an eyebrow.

“Yes? What news?”

“I suppose I should explain in full, but forgive me if I summarise first, if you will? The Beast is not one Beast, but many. The Fool and the Magician both left to fight it, as I am sure you are aware, and several brave heroes trekked out to assist them in your quest.”

“Thank you – that is good news.”

“But that is not all,” the lobster trembles, tears welling up in their eyes. “Though they seemed to be holding the Beasts back, and reinforcements were brought from the city to assist them, something terrible happened. A figure emerged from the Beasts – as though it was the embodiment of all of them. It spoke. The Beasts…” the lobster pauses. “The Beasts are not Beasts, but custodians of the world.”

“Custodians?” the Empress looks sceptical. The administrators stunned. The High Priestess looks on, stoney-faced.

“Custodians, yes. Created by the Spirits. They had been changed by Pearlescence: when we reshaped the world, it touched them. It changed them. It made them hungry. And when we were great, and stood as a great empire across the ocean, that was enough. But when Spiral began to fade to the mere city it is today, that was not enough for them.”

“They will consume us, if we do not stop them,” interjects the High Priestess, speaking for the first time. “We did not feed them as we should. The scriptures were not enough. The Hierophant failed.”

“The Hierophant is dead,” snaps the Empress.

“Perhaps,” continues the shark, “but that which they were tasked with placating did not disappear. In our own greed for Pearlescence, we did not consider those who wanted it more, and who were more able to get it. The Spirits knew this. They warned us. We ignored them.”

“It is too late for hindsight, High Priestess. The situation is what it is. Lobster, what else did this Beast-figure say?”

“They are nothing without Pearlescence. It is all they crave, and they cannot change. The Magician offered them the world above to save Spiral, but,” at this, a single tear rolls down their cheek. “But the Beast revealed that the Magician was one of the Beasts. The very thing that threatens to overthrow our city and destroy us. We’re doomed.”

Before anyone has a chance to react, there is another knock on the door. As the Empress answers, it opens to reveal a rather officious sea-squirrel, accompanied by two merfolk.

“Temperance! It’s so lovely to see you! What are you doing here? Are you well?”

There is a child-like tone to the Empress’ voice – she seems more comfortable, relaxed. As though seeing an old friend for the first time in many years.

The mermaid steps forward and embraces the Empress, who lost all decorum and has begun giggling and laughing with her.

“My oldest friend – it’s wonderful to see you again,” continues Temperance. “I knew you were in trouble, and I wanted you to know that I’m here for you. Always.”

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

The administrators gawk in sheer confusion – even the sea-squirrel and merman look taken aback.

“Look, look. I must introduce you. Finn you must know, naturally. (Though you must tell me how you met.) This is, well, uh – this is my council. Or at least, what remains of it. The High Priestess, my administrators, lobster (I think? Is that right?), and, uh, the, oh. Well, that’s it I suppose.”

She points out each member as she goes round, though her enthusiasm fades into nervous sheepishness as the reality of her situation is drawn into sharp relief.

“Who’s your other friend there? I don’t think I’ve met him?”

“Herbert. But there’s no time, no time,” continues Temperance. “Look, all three of us are here to help you.”

“I’m going to be straight-up with you, Empy,” continues Temperance, with a more serious tone in her voice now.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve always called you Empy.

The Empress looks stern, but does not respond.

“I think we’ve all got to admit that the current situation just isn’t working,” Lorem continues.

“Well, obviously,” interjects Finn. The Empress gives him a hard stare, and he goes quiet.

“But I mean more than that. Not just all this stuff with the Beasts and the revolution, because that’s obviously not great, but you’ve got to admit that the Wheel probably did have a point, you know? It’s not completely fair for you to hold all of the Pearlescence between you and a few of your closest friends – though I do appreciate it.”

“Well, I suppose,” responds the Empress. There is a childish sullenness to her voice at this.

“Oh, come on. Think about it. Remember that time when we played PicJonary, many years ago? How you didn’t enjoy it at first – didn’t want to enjoy it at first?”

“Yes. What’s your point?”

“Well, it’s all about knowing what you have, isn’t it? It’s all very well storing up all this Pearlescence because it’s useful and you like having it – and there’s no doubt that it makes you the most important person in Spiral, which I suppose you’re entitled to call yourself.”

The Empress taps her foot.

“But you don’t really appreciate what you have, do you? You just… sit on it. Using it when you want because it makes you feel special. It’s like all those hundreds of games that you never played, and didn’t really want to play even if someone else made you. But then when I made you play, then you actually enjoyed it, didn’t you? You actually appreciated what you had.”

“Okay, okay. What’s your point?”

“Well it made you want to play other games, didn’t it? It made you value them not for the fact that you owned them, but for the fact that you gained something from them. You even opened ClueJo and we played it with Nursie, remember?”

At this, the Empress flushes red.

“Okay, okay,” Temperance takes a step back, hands in the air. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, but you realised their true value – and not merely as things to collect, never satisfying you no matter how many you had. And after that point, did you play every game often?”

“Not really, no.”

“And is that because you never opened them?”

“Well, sometimes. And some of them just weren’t very good.”

“Right, and that’s because you didn’t have time, isn’t it? But if you’d given those games away for other children to play, perhaps they could have got something out of them? Enjoyed them themselves?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” responds the Empress, resignedly.

“If I might interject,” asks the sea-squirrel. “While this is all very touching, and I think I can see where this is going, I think I’m going to spend some of my time doing actual work in the administration of this city. Or rather, undoing all of the damage that the Reaper did. Is that acceptable, Empress?”

The Empress pauses for a few moments, seemingly torn. Though she nods at the sea-squirrel, who then bustles out of the room.

“May I speak, also?” asks Herbert.

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, I think what Temperance is getting at here is that not only is it probably a good idea for you to start sharing your Pearlescence with everyone, but that actually it’s better if we all work together to our own needs. It’s all very well talking about games and toys and sharing them with other children, but the city really is under threat – and if we share out the Pearlescence then you’re going to have to accept the very real fact that you’ll no longer be the supreme authority within Spiral. Or at least, you won’t be able to fight back if anyone challenges you on that.”

One of the advisors attempts to interject, and is shushed with a motion from the Empress.

“Are you… are you really asking that I step down Herbert? And why should I listen to you? We’ve only just met.”

“Frankly, yes. It’s the only thing to do. And let’s be honest – your council is shrunken precisely because of the factionalism of the city. It’s no longer functional, and the whole place is falling apart. Look out of your window – the towers are crumbling, and the people are in terror from both outside threats and their own comrades. No offence, but you’re failing.”

“Now, look here-”

“I think what Herbert is trying to get at here,” Temperance shoots at look at the merman, “is that stepping down and disbanding the institutions of the city is the only way in which we’re going to come together to defeat the Beasts. Is that correct, Herbert?”

“Y- yes. That’s correct,” he affirms, with a nervous glance at Temperance.

“The Spirits have willed it,” begins the High Priestess. “The nature of the Beasts is to destroy – to consume. And we have made them what they are. We must remove the Beast from ourselves if we are to overcome it, or we will simply be fighting with ourselves.”

At this, the Empress appears to lose her balance and falls into her seat. A couple of advisors rush forward, but she waves them away. She is deep in thought.

“I… I suppose you are right. It’s the only way. Yes, you’re right.”

Her voice, shaky at first, builds in confidence as she commits to this new path.

“Have you heard the news from the lobster of what is happening on the battlefield?”

“I don’t believe we have,” answers Temperance.

The lobster repeats the news to both, explaining the dire situation. Temperance and Herbert listen, with increasing horror on their faces.

“This is very grave news,” Herbert begins. Though before he has a chance to continue, the Empress interjects.

“I owe you both an apology. You’re both right. I must give up Pearlescence. Not merely because of the people and to defeat the Beasts, but stepping down as Empress is the only way in which Spiral can become what it needs to be to survive. My pride got in the way, and for that I am sorry.”

Temperance smiles.

“Thank you, Empress. I am glad we could both be of help. Finn has also got to work in dismantling the Reaper’s dangerous bureaucracy: hopefully it will be enough.

“And you, High Priestess, will you fight?” she continues.

“What is there to fight? I only commune with the Spirits. They are neither good nor evil – they simply say what has been, what is and what will be. They are the creators of the world, but there is no intent behind the desires: or at least none that I can influence.”

The High Priestess brightens a little, however. “Though we should take heart from this. They are not a malice which we must fight, and nor are they of much help beyond that which they wish to reveal. I have spent too long wondering how I might overcome this problem, when long should I have realised to simply accept them for what they are and used them in whatever way we can: no more, no less.”

The High Priestess smiles, and relaxes a little. “I will help you however I can. Though I may not be able to fight, I can provide guidance to those who need it.”

“And on a more practical note,” continues the Empress, her old demeanour returning, “though I am happy to release all the Pearlescence in our stores for the battle – who will carry it to the battle? Too many have already left, and we can’t do it ourselves!”

Though just as she finished her sentence, the sound of a great horn blasts outside. The gathering peer out of the window, to see a large army gathered in the now-cleared central square. Rows upon rows of merfolk and other sea creatures are lined up, seemingly prepared to fight. A panic spreads throughout the room, before a voice calls up.

“Empress. I’ve got an army to help you. Would you like our aid? Would you like us to leave?”

It’s one of the merfolk, who bares a striking resemblance to Victoria.

“Well, I suppose we’ve got our answer then.”

The Empress raises her voice, and shouts down.

“Thank you, thank you. I will take things from here. You are to transport Pearlescence en masse to the battlefield against the Beast, do you understand?”

At the Empress’ command, the army begins preparing for battle, while a few are held back on secondment for the rebuilding efforts under the efforts of Finn. The Empress orders them to transport the city’s reserves of Pearlescence to the battlefield, and will accompany them along with Temperance, Herbert, the lobster and the High Priestess.

After a lot of hustling and bustling, the army finally begin to move out, though Victoria seems nowhere to be found.

Scene 4

The Fool has drawn back towards their city – their previous confidence shattered when it was revealed that the Magician and the Beast were both the same. How could they have betrayed them like that? Wracked by indecision, hurt and despair, they have sought solitude while combat rages on.

Though they are not quite alone. A small number have sought them out, either by chance or – perhaps – knowing that this is where they are most likely to dwell: on the cusp between their home and safety, and their destiny and destruction.

A cuttlefish, viperfish, surgeonfish, squid and a merfolk solider: each seemingly wanting to bring their own experiences to bear.

“Hello? May I be of assistance?” asks the squid.

The Fool moves, slightly, though hardly looks up.

“Look, I know things are difficult at the moment. The Magician isn’t who they said they were. I understand,” the squid continues.

“What do you understand?” asks the Fool. “What could you possibly understand about this situation?”

“Well, I suppose you’re right. I don’t. How could I? I’m not you. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand why it’s important that you don’t give up now.”

“Of course I’m giving up now,” slumps the clownfish. “It’s impossible. Why me?”

The merfolk soldier steps in. “Hey, hey, I understand. I know what it means to fight, you know?”

“I suppose, but how can I fight when my best friend and worst enemy are the same?” answers the Fool.

“Well, what is it that you’re fighting for?” continues the soldier.

“Spiral, of course. And my friends. And myself.”

“Your friends, yes? And you’ve said that the Magician is your friend?”

“My best friend,” continues the Fool – a note of indignance in their voice. “But how am I supposed to fight if I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do?”

“Well, if you love them why fight them? Why not merely defeat the Beasts and save your friend?” asks the squid.

“I… I don’t think that’s an option. I was always destined to fight the Magician. Only one of us may win. It was prophesied.”

“Do prophecies always come true?” asks the soldier.

“Isn’t that what they’re for?”

“Are they? Do they come true if we choose not to follow them?”

“I don’t know. How am I supposed to answer that?”

“Well, if you refused to fight the Magician, and the Magician refused to fight you – wouldn’t that stop the prophecy from ever coming true?”

“I… yes. But I don’t know if they would do that.”

“How can you know if you do not try?”

The Fool sits, steely-faced.

“There is one thing that I have not yet been able to bring myself to use. It was given to me for this purpose, but… I’m worried. The prophecy said that me and the Magician are destined to endure the Beast together. I don’t know what that means anymore. Before, it was obvious: we endure them by fighting, but now does it mean that the Magician must endure it by becoming the Beast? Containing them? I just don’t know what to do.”

“Come, Fool. If you don’t speak to them, there’s no way you’ll ever be able to reach the answers that you seek,” reassures the squid. “Perhaps there is time yet for them to be rescued.”

The Fool pauses for a moment, though resolves themselves into a posture of determination.

“There is one thing you should all know: a weapon that I have kept secret. One that may only be wielded by one who is humbled and innocent – not corrupted by power or selfishness. I did not deem myself worthy to wield it before, for I believed it would consume me as it does all those who have those vices, but I believe that now – at last – I am ready. Take me to the Magician – I want them to know what our friendship really means to the both of us.”

Accompanied by the squid and soldier, while the other three hang back, the Fool marches out into the battlefield and towards the Beasts – still fighting off in the distance.

By this point, the scene has changed rather dramatically. Where before there had only been a ragtag band of heroes working with the Fool and Magician, now an army is lined up facing the tentacled Beasts. The seriousness of this opposition has stopped them in their tracks – at least for now – though the Beast-figure is nowhere to be seen amongst them.

The Magician stands defiant, opposing Spiral’s forces. Their face of laughter fades a little as they see the Fool’s newfound strength of will.

“Back already, Fool? I already have more than enough Pearlescence to achieve my bigger plans. What would I want with you? Spiral is merely a token, to me.”

“So why bother?” the Fool responds.

“Because I can.”

“I see your hesitation, Beast. I see your reluctance. If you truly did not care, you would have tried to destroy us already.”

At this, the Magician hesitates slightly. They shrink a little from the vast, bulbous mass of masked faces, as though their confidence were deflating.

“We need to talk, friend. And I mean that. You are my friend.”

“Your friend? Really? You still believe that? I have always been better than you. I was always superior.”

“Well, prove it. Come down and talk – that’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Or don’t you remember our conversation? First conversation after you began your adventures? You’d begun to lose your way even then. You struggled to put aside your pride. But you knew what was right.”

The Magician hesitates.

“I’m giving you a second chance, friend. A chance to redeem yourself. A chance to be what you should always have been. My friend, fighting against the Beasts: not with them. Remember – we both have to endure the Beasts. Is that really what you’re doing by embracing them?”

Wordlessly, the Magician returns to their old form – becoming a koifish once again. They swim down towards the Fool, and embrace them.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I’ve lost my way. I was… I was tempted. Going out into the world, I saw life outside of Spiral, and I saw the destruction that we wrought on those who weren’t lucky enough to live within the city.”

“But does that entail destroying them? Becoming the very thing that you hated?”

“It isn’t that easy. Fighting against them is… well, it feels impossible. The Beasts are the custodians of the world. They want to keep it as it should be – or at least, as the Spirits told them it should be. Is that so wrong?”

“Not on its own, no. But the corruption has changed them – they’re no longer benign guardians, but seek all power. They don’t want to keep the world as it was: they want the world to be at their mercy – to be shaped as they see fit.”

“Is that not what we are?”

“Perhaps, yes. But do we claim all that power to ourselves?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Though not any longer,” proclaims the Empress. “Pearlescence has been made available to all, and no longer kept in the hands of a select few. Spiral is changing – no longer will it be hierarchical and controlled, but rather subject to the will of its people.”

“That’s all very well,” retorts the Magician, “but what about those outside?”

“They threaten us with destruction,” implores the Fool.

“Yes – for the mistakes that the city has made in the past. Should they go forgotten?”

“But that isn’t right. They want to destroy us because we have any Pearlescence – not all of it. We are not the same as them, and that is the difference between us and them. They consume – we survive. And we learn from our mistakes.”

At this, the Magician pauses.

“You are right. Yes. I understand now. You have made me understand what I should have been all along: your best friend. I am sorry. Truly.”

“So will you fight with us?”

“Absolutely.”

There is a resounding cheer that goes up between the merfolk and the surrounding people – the Magician and Fool embrace, before they turn to face down the Beasts together. The Empress begins making commands towards the army, who prepare to fight.

The Fool draws a weapon of pure blackness: a glowing, monstrous blade that draws those around it. It pulses, menacingly, and though eyes are pulled in its direction there is a sense that the weapon has its own focus: the Beasts. There is a silent intelligence there.

“The Jword!” cries the Magician. “So the legend is true? It does exist? I… I scarcely dared believe it.”

“Indeed it does,” replies the Fool.

The Beasts writhe and shift – seemingly unsure how to respond to this new development. A beautiful sense of optimism rushes through the forces of Spiral, invigorating them all with a newfound sense of power.

Just as the Empress is about the order the army forward, a single voice cries out.

“Enough!”

All movement stops – the optimism dies, the soldiers cease their preparations and the Fool and Magician both freeze. Even the Beasts reduce their writhing, somewhat.

A figure, hazy and undefined at first, wanders out from behind the Beasts. The Beast-figure. Tiny in comparison to the monstrosities that surround her, she emanates power and will in a way that no others on the battlefield come close to.

“This is a complete waste of time. We have already been over this – need I repeat myself?” she demands. “What can you possibly hope to achieve in fighting that which can never be satisfied? We who always hunger – we victims of the Pearlescence that you wrought upon the world? You are but a steppingstone to our designs on the world – and beyond. What hope you do possibly have?”

“Oh, shut up already,” comes a single voice from behind the army. “The destruction that we wrought upon the world?”

A clownfish swims out into view, their voice more annoyed that defiant.

“Fool, what can you possibly hope to achieve?”

“Fool? I am no fool. I am no-one. I am a person. I am myself. In short: I hold no authority, and I hold no claim to power, Pearlescence or anything else that this whole ridiculous fight has always been about. I have come here with all that I can to save myself and what I love,” at this the clownfish holds up a chainsaw.

A cheer.

“You claim to be unchanging: behaving as you do simply because you have to. I call bullshit. The very premise of what you told us relies on you having changed once you came into contact with Pearlescence: you turned from custodians to Beasts!”

At this, another cheer.

“Perhaps without Pearlescence you will die, and I really hope that we have not caused that in the past. But I do not think that is what you really want: you wish to devour the entire world, and we are only the first step to that. Nothing will ever be enough for you, will it?”

The merfolk whoop, bashing their weapons against their shields.

“Enough! Enough,” the Beast-figure shouts them down. “As you wish: I will tell you my full story, if that is what you wish. Though it is only delaying the inevitable.”

Silence, once again.

“As you know, we custodians were not always so monstrous; not always so hungry for the Pearlescence that you kept from us. We even have names: I am Jocqueline.

“Though we had been created by the Spirits, just as the merfolk had been, we shaped the world as we saw fit and then guarded it in its goodness. This was always how it was supposed to be.

“And yet Pearlescence changed that. It allowed the world to be reshaped, changed and moulded according to the whims of the merfolk. Those who had been blessed with intelligence but lacked wisdom. They did what they wished, with no care for those that dwelt on the world with them. They stole what was ours from us. They usurped our very nature.

“But it was not always this way. We custodians once lived in peace with the merfolk. Not only when we were sated by your sacred scriptures – fed on scraps of your power. No, before then. We held great power, passed down from generation to generation. Knowledge of that power was lost, though all we knew is that it was dangerous and unpredictable, and we sought to protect its misuse from those who covet such power. From the merfolk.

“And so it passed down, always the same tale being told to generation after generation of custodians. It was never used, because of the immense power and destruction we feared it would unleash. And yet we never have, as the situation has never been dire enough, even when you abused your power over and over.”

An ominous silence now passes over the gathered crowd. The prior optimism gone.

“But now, in our desperation, I sense that now may be the time to use it. We are on the cusp of victory – of obtaining all the Pearlescence that we could ever want. Your Magician offered the entire world as sacrifice to save the city. Irrelevant. We will take both.”

“And what of becoming what you accuse us of? Are you not hypocrites?” asks the clownfish, hope fading from his voice.

“If you had never wielded such power, we would never have been forced to act as we have. You made us what we are. You brought this on yourselves. The world will be what it was always destined to become: we custodians will tender it as we see fit.”

At this, the Fool pipes up once more.

“And what of the Jword, Jocqueline?”

She laughs.

“It will consume you long before you reach me, Fool. Don’t you know what it is? You know not of what you wield.”

“Try me.”

“Beasts, move out!”

At this, the great lumbering monster begin to flail and undulate, moving forward with thrashing motions – bearing down upon the army below.

Scene 5

At the Empress’ command, the army begins to move out – sticking to a tight shield wall in the face of the thrashing, toothed appendages flailing on all sides. Spears jut out in even rows from these tight formations, and the army provides substantial cover for the numerous others darting around it.

Jocqueline has vanished, merging back behind the Beasts as soon as she gave the order to attack.

A ringing sound of trumpets cries out above the din of the battlefield, and the troops begin to rally in the face of the horrors.

Though the Beasts are concentrating the majority of their force on the merfolk army, due to sheer numbers, it is not clear exactly what is going on at all times due to myriad things happening at the same time.

The vampire squid that had been lurking towards the front of the army on one side dashes forward and begins making headway in taking down the nearest Beast. Hacking and slashing, his movements are a perfectly synchronised blur – almost programmed, rather than coming from a living, breathing fish. Though the Beast they’re up against is proving a formidable foe, the squid is carving great gouges into it, and it roars in pain and frustration as the squid is always too fast for it to see.

Though for just a moment the squid hesitates, and the Beast takes its chance – slashing down and severing one of the vampire squid’s own. They let out a cry of pain, and withdraw to a safer haven behind the army to recuperate. Hurt, but not killed. The lobster, which up until this point had been lurking off to one side and drawing no attention to itself, dashes off around the side of the battle – seemingly scouting out whatever is going on with the Beasts. After a good while of looking – always remaining at a safe distance – it makes its way back towards friendly territory and onto the Empress’ platform.

“Empress, Empress. I’ve spotted Jocqueline. She’s behind those three Beasts right at the front. Obviously I don’t think there’s much chance of us being able to actually get to her – especially not me with these legs – but she seems like she’d be quite easy to lure out don’t you think?”

“Oh, that’s an excellent idea, actually,” responds the Empress. “Obviously we don’t really want her using her power if we can help it – but then what’s stopping her? She must have some kind of plan.”

“Probably, but I have no idea what it is if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Of course not. I’m just musing.”

“Perhaps,” interjects Temperance, “we could pull back on one flank here, allowing the Beasts to get closer to Spiral there.” She points to the map of the battlefield in front of her. “Jocqueline is likely to think they’ve broken through – especially if we then taunt her while pretending to show weakness. She won’t be able to resist.”

“Plus,” adds Herbert, “if we use the Fool and the Magician she’s bound to come forward. She’s already furious with them.”

The clownfish which had given the speech now lets out a rip-roaring cry and revs the chainsaw up – creating a whir of angry, mechanical noise. He leaps for one of the Beasts tentacles, slashing here and there, before letting out a shout as he plunges the chainsaw straight into a tentacle.

“You’re fucking hungry? Eat this.”

Again and again the clownfish hacks at the Beast, and it lets out cries of pain – never managing to land its own hits. Clouds of blood spew out from it, as the clownfish lobs the chainsaw straight at it: spewing flesh and blood in a catastrophic cloud of gore. Taking his chance, the clownfish leaps up the side of the Beast once, twice, three times. Reaching its enormous, bulbous head, he plunges his weapon straight down into its head.

It lets out a moan, almost like a weep. Its screeches scraping against your eardrums; shaking your insides. Its eyes go wider and narrower with its wails – they’re no longer focused on anything at all, as with one final shriek the Beast is snuffed out.

A great cheer rises up from the merfolk army – the Beasts can be defeated. That’s all that matters. Its vast body lulls to one side, drifting across the battle as though a hulking wreck; its skin writhing with bumps and bubbles as some horrific death throes occur in its interior. Its body collapses in on itself, imploding into a dark mass of nothing – snuffed out at last. But barely a moment later, another Beasts fills its place – just as great and terrible as the last.

A shrill laugh comes from amidst the Beasts: Jocqueline is clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The clownfish and the vampire squid both dive back into the fray, rallying the troops once again. Though you can’t help but wonder what’s going on with the Fool and the Magician – neither seem to have got themselves involved in fighting just yet. In fact, they just seem to be stood over to one side – deep in discussion. Are they doubting each other once again?

It looks as though the Empress is calling them over, and giving them some kind of peptalk? Seems a little pointless after all that buildup. A couple of seahorse messenger beeline for the troops on the frontline while the talks continue. After a short while, you notice the right flank of the army start to give way – allowing the Beasts a route through.

The Fool and the Magician, rushing forward as though under orders from the Empress, make a clear beeline for the now-empty right flank. There is an immutable determination radiating from them – though it is difficult to tell whether it’s confidence or resignation. The Beasts – not yet noticing them – make for the vulnerable walls of Spiral, thrashing at the weakened stone, and making the ground shake.

The city, never in such a perilous position as this before, looks oddly steadfast in the face of this existential threat. As though this were always destined to happen. Finally noticing the approaching duo, the Beasts descend on them: a mere clownfish and a koi. The Fool draw their sword, and the Magician their staff, a moment of tension crackles and spits over the scene as they prepare to strike together. The all-consuming void of the Jword pulls towards the Beast, which flails in a circular motion around the Fool, who swings the weapon round in a sweeping arc just as a calamitous fulmination of blue light strikes at the monster in seven places at once.

There is a flash, and the scenery around appears to disconnect from itself. As though multiplying and out of focus, there is a crackling jolt every few seconds as colours flicker between red, blue, green and those previously unknown. The Beast, struck by both the Fool and Magician at once, writhes as the Jword consumes part of it – the pure power and desire of the Beast proving a magnet to the weapon, feeding its ever-consuming desire for more. And yet, the Fool remains unhurt – as does the Magician. Only the selfless and humble may wield the blade, or even remain near it. Is the Magician truly redeemed?

The scene jerks, and artefacts appear in places. The Fool winks in and out of existence. Replaced by… the Protagonist? No, it can’t be. The two flash back and forth, faster and faster – though the scene settles once again where it should be. The Magician does the same with the Trickster – though their expressions, body poses and the occasional snatches of words seem… off? As though they don’t quite match up? As though they don’t match up at all, in fact.

The corruption spreads, with sparks out white noise and scenes around some kind of Pit – humans, not merfolk, fighting around it. The sight of Dave, Tek, Morta, Brink, Jack, Morgana and others – all in quick succession. Nothing syncs. It’s wrong. Deeply wrong.

The Magician and the Fool continue fighting, though the degrading scene is starting to take its toll – their coordination is fading, while both the Jword and the Magician’s lightning are missing or jerking – though the Beasts are suffering the same fate.

Jocqueline steps forward. Her voice is distorted; almost broken.

“Is th̕is̷ i͏t̨, ̸F̷o̶ól? ̧I̸s̀ ͝th̶i҉ś y҉o̧u͟r͘ last s̷t̨an͡d? Br̀o͜ke҉n̡ ̕a̡t̢ ̕l͠a̕st ҉–̕ y͘oúr ͠ųļti̕mat͠e we͞ap͠on̨ de͡feat́ed ͡by͘ the v̵e͏ry ͝rec̢o̶ncil̵ia͠t̴i̧on͘ ͢y͏ou͢ ͝h͢óp͢e͞d w͞ơúld he̛l͘p͝ y͟o̶u͢.̧”

“I̴ hav͢e no̵ i̷d̡e͏a͡ ͢what y͜o͡u’̛r̸e ̵t͢alk̛ing ab́o͜ut.”

“C̴a͜n’̷t̢ ͘you̷ ͡tell̴? We͟ ąre ͜c̶o͟r͘r҉úp̕ti͢ng. T̶h̛e Na̵r̷r̀at͝ive̡ i͝s͘ ͜d̵yi̵ng͘,̧ b̕eca̵ųs͢e͠ yo͘u ̶h̡a̵ve͢ m͠a̷ḑe ͏t̵he ͢wro͠n̢g̴ ̨cho̶i͞c͝e͜. T͢h̕e ̷ch̕oice̸ ̷t͝h̶a͞t yo͡u ҉h͘a̡d̷ al͢wa͠ys̀ ̸a͡v͞o̵i͜ded́ – ̢a̵l̴w̨ay̕s͏ ̵pr҉ete͟nd̴e̡d̸ ͏you͠ ͡w̛oưld ne̸v҉ér͜ ̧hav͜e̕ to ͘ma͟k͠e̢,҉” she continues. “D̶o̷e̷s̵ ͡t̛hat ͏sa̸ţi̛s͡f̀y ̷y̸ou̧,̡ ͡F̶oo͟l? ͜Yo̵ur͟ ̡pro҉phe͞cy h̨aś ̡b̕e̸en̸ ̛fulfi̴lle̴d,͞ but at wha̶t̢ c͞os͡t to̴ ̨the ̴r̀es͢t̴ of́ ̧us?”

“Y͡o͘u.̵ Wi̕ll̛.͠ N͏e͝v͜e͟r. Bea̵t͟.͝ ̴U̢s.̢ Do͟wn̵!” roars the Magician, lightning spewing forth at Jocqueline, though it artefacts to one side in an instant.

“But I̵ ͘d̢on̡’t ne͘ed͡, ͡to̢,͞ Magic͢i͞an̢.̶ F̧o͞r t̨h͜at̀ ̢was ne͡ve҉r ̷ýou͠r r͏ea̶l҉ n͜a҉me.́ ͟Y͜ou̵ ̨ąlwąýs̕ w̨e̵r͝e th̢e ̧B̡eas̡t, ̶w̸he̶tḩe̛r͜ y͞ou̸ ̶w̕a͜nt҉e͠d ͠t́o͝ b̶e or ̢n͘ot.̶ You̴ and҉ ̨I a̕r͝e̴ o͞nę:͜ o̡ur͡ ́fatęs̷ n̵o͘ţ ̡me͡r̸ęly͠ in̨ter͏twi̕n͞ed ͏bu̢t̷t̡h̕e͘ same.”

“Ǹe͢v̵e͡r̴! ͡Never ̕never n̨e͢ver!” the Magician shouts, a spark crashing outwards on each word. All to nothing.

Jocqueline laughs again.

“T̢h̕is͏ ̶is ́i̷t̡, F͟o͘o̵l͏. ̕Th͘e҉ final s̨ta̡te̴.͘ D̡òn’t ͜you̢ ̶ge͜t ͝i͠t̡? T͡h̷e ͠ćh̴oi̸c̸e̵ that͡yo̢u҉have ma̢de. ̶F̛or҉ ̧y̸ou̡ ̧al͘way̶s had͏ ̶o̡ne:̡ fulf̡i̢l ͠t͝h̛e p̶r͟o̷p͠h́ec̀y ̷b̧y̧ ki͘llin̵g͡ ͢yǫur͘ ̵Be͢(a̵)͢st ̛F̵r̴iend a̷n͢d e͏n͝d҉íng̛ the thŕeat̀ to t̸he wo̴r͞l͠d͟,̕ o͏r şave ̕t̸h͟e͘m by de͞s̕t͞r͡oyi̵ng͢ t̴he Na̶r͢ràt͢iv̢e ͜a̧n̨d l͜ív̕i̸ng ͞i͡n ̵an̸ ̛e̴ndle̵ss ̸e͟cho͘ ͏of ̧yo̷ưr̴ f̨iǹa̸l ̕vic͝tóry –͠ ҉a͡l͝w͘ays̷ ̕out͞ o̵f r͡eách.͘ ̴Y̢ou ́must̛ ̴e͘n̸d͠ure͟ ͡th͜e B҉èas͠t ̛t́o̵g͞eth͜e̴r̛.͏ ͝Yòu͝ al̷wa̢ys̸ kn̷ew̛ t̀hiş, ̕t̡h͠óugh̸ ̴p͏e͠ŗha͏p̢s ̨ǹo͘t in ́w̶h̨at ͞wa͠y.͟

“T̡h͝e w͡o͟r͏ld ͞i͏s bi҉gger̛ t̀ha̵n ͞y҉ou, ̛Fool. ̨I͟ş ̵thís r̴e͏a͢l͟ļy wh̶at ҉you ̵w͝a̛n̴t t͡ǫ d̨o̡ ̴to ̨t̨h̴e̢ rest͝ of̴ us͘?͟ ͞And̡ ̢y͠oų ͡h̴a͞v̨e͟ ́the ̕audac͝įt͝y̡ t͏o ̕clai͜m t͡ha̕t͡ ̷I’͜m͟th̷e ̶s̀el͏fish̶ ̕o̶n̨è? T͟ha̷tIw͠a͜nt̷ t̨o̶ c̛o̴n͘súm̀e eve̶ry͜t͞h҉i͝ng?͝ Yo̵u ͘we͡re̶ ̢a̶l̶waỳş ̢w͏rong, ͏Foo͠l.͡ Y͜ǫu ͟alw̕a͠ys̛ would̛ ̧m̴ak̕e͟ ̧th̡ę ͘w̛rong͠ ̷c҉ho̢ìce. T͢ha̵t̕’s w͘he̷re yo̡u ̷got ̕yóur ͜na͡m̸e͡.͢ P̛r̢op̶h͟e͟sied ̛t͟oo, rem͟e͡mber̀?”

There is a ripping sound, though not from any particular direction. From within. As though the world itself is starting to rip itself apart: the stresses and strains of the Narrative Dissonance finally taking their toll on everything around them.

The Fool stands frozen once more, the Magician beside them with imploring eyes. Neither fighting the Beasts any longer – neither with the willpower to know what to do.

“We͟l̕l ̸̡I c͢͠͏a̶҉n̶̛̕ ma҉ķ̷̕e͞ ̨t҉̡h̀͞ę̀̀ ͡͞c̀͏̢h̴̵̛o͢ìc̶͏e҉̀ ̡̧f͏̸o̶̕r̨͢ ̴y͢͏ơ͏u̷̕͡, ͜͝F͠͡o͞o͡l.͝ ̡͞F͟o̧̡r̢ ́͝I͢͏ wi̡̛l̶l̵̕ ̛͠u̢͟͟şe̛͢ ̵͠m̛͜ỳ ̵̵̕p̴o͘͝we̡r at̨ ̶̨l̨a͘͜s͘҉̀t͢҉!̧”

There is a shriek, as Jocqueline begins to glow silver; the distortions and corruptions create a horrifying vision of her form as it warps beyond all recognition. A great power within them builds, as though Jocqueline herself were a cork stopper for a dam.

The Fool’s eyes grow with horror, and then their brow narrows. Knowing at last what they have to do, they draw the Jword high into the air. The Magician falls to their knees and looks upwards – begging both to live and die. Begging to do what is right.

Jocqueline’s form writhes, her face brutalised into hideous shapes – a formless mass of void. The silver becomes blinding white, shining ever brighter. Silhouetted against this, the Fool plunges the Jword into the Magician’s heart. They cease to exist, as though never there. As though they shouldn’t have been there.

Immediately, the flashes and jerks cease, and the world restores itself to normality. What remains of Jocqueline is now a vast, silver ball – a miniature sun approaching supernova.

“We cannot endure something that does not exist. The prophecy has been fulfilled. I am no Fool.”

A silence that feels like an eternity.

It implodes with a great synth wave, the floor falling out of your ears, as the waterborne shockwave that follows cascades across the battlefield and Spiral – destroying anything without a foundation. Those on the battlefield are blasted outwards in all directions, smashing into each other in the chaotic currents. The shattering of windows can be heard in quick succession, as the wave extends outwards.

From this, a vast sea of silver flows outwards from Jocqueline’s form – gushing in all directions as the sheer volume rushes to fill the available space. It is pure Pearlescence.

As it flows over the Beasts, it envelops and consumes them – their depraved forms unable to take the sheer power of the silvery substance now in such abundance. Giving off low moans, their tentacles stop moving one by one, as their masses are calcified. Fossilised monstrosities, at last given singular form.

As though unable to take this even in death, they shatter into nothingness. A blackness as black as the Jword: the true void from the Abyss. No longer named. No longer extant. No longer a threat. Nothing.

The Fool, seemingly unmoved by all of this, falls to their knees: their face held to the sky, begging. No sword comes to them.

To come.

To come.