"Willow, please, I must do this."

"No, I-"

He wrenched the divining rod from her grip.

With a firm click it became one with the lock.

The ground began to shake violently; they heard laughter, unknown vibrations traveled in waves past their ears…

Willow's eyes went wide as she and Wilson looked down at the rumbling ground below them. Slowly the king's chair ceased into nothingness…

…And then the throne that once belonged to Maxwell was no more; he was the one who laughed at them.

"I'M FREE!"

Laughing, so much laughing-

"I'M FINALLY FREE!"

Willow fumed with anger and disbelief towards the scientist. Wilson's mouth opened to apologize when a shrilling, blood curdling scream interrupted him.

The puppet master's skin and flesh was stripped from his bones; both Willow and Wilson gagged at the revolting sight.

Maxwell's skeleton dissipated into dust that drifted into the darkness, and he was gone. Dead silence arose throughout the barren court.

In the empty space formed a new throne; bigger, darker, sharper.

Then They took Wilson. They purged and manipulated his memories. They rid him completely of his past life.

What was left of Willow was disregarded and sent back to the Hell.

They found a new ruler for Their kingdom; oh, how delighted the feeling was! A fresh, new start for more victims.

They moved around, eyeing him with satisfaction. He was deemed worthy by Themselves alone.

Wilson stared down at his lap, stricken with shock and grief, as he sat stuck to the throne.

All the while the creatures in the darkness cheered on.

Deep in the shadows chants could be heard, "All Hail the King!"

Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of its characters.

Chapter 3. Doors

The Gentleman Scientist was gone when she woke up, just as she predicted he would. His coat was missing from the lab table she set it on; she knew that would happen, too.

Willow felt groggier than usual, perhaps by sleeping exposed in the wilderness with an empty stomach and without proper warmth. She focused on clearing its queue when it grumbled. Eating vegetables didn't taste so bad when you're starving, she esteemed as she took bites of her stale, unfinished carrots from the previous night. She was going on an adventure today.

Risky as it seemed she was bored, and she was rather cold, and if she were to be bored and cold in a place of refuge than it might as well be in wilderness with new sights, because it didn't matter to her here. The risk of dying wasn't an idea much less a thought in her mind.

She packed a weeks worth of food into her backpack along with fire-starting materials and other necessities that could be important while gone. The weight of her bag felt a tad under heavy and it tilted her spine due to the weight. If she could just hunch her shoulders so that she wouldn't develop back problems in the near future, then everything would work out just fine.

Today, Willow rolled the dice and headed out in a different, obscure direction. Her hunger for new sights excited her to see scenery that wasn't just an endless snowstorm. She thanked herself for remembering to bring winter hats and a cozy thermal stone for the journey ahead. It wasn't like her to remember little things, especially since…

She frowned and stopped thinking. There was no reason to go on.

The further she traveled the more the snow grew deeper and it was harder for her to walk. She had to take giant steps in order to avoid falling over, and the snow felt incredibly cold around her ankles. Her boots weren't meant for trekking, after all. It was like walking with Popsicle sticks.

Willow didn't know exactly what she was expecting to find in the woods. Food, more grass and twigs, maybe. The run-of-the-mill essentials. She was in a completely different forest than the one her base was settled in. This one was far more thicker and consisted of evergreens that grew branches so elongated it draped over her head. She sneezed when a blanket of snow fell on her from above, and she grumbled something in complaint.

She walked and walked, muscles burning, until a structure stopped her in her path. Curved stone with markings on the slab. She swallowed the knot in her throat; it was a gravestone. With shaky, nervous hands she slowly uncovered the snow from its rough, chalky surface. The crooked words slathered on made her sick.

"Hey, that's my name…"

Written on the headstone was the name Willow, spelled exactly letter by letter in cursive, childlike handwriting.

This had to be one of Wilson's jokes, she was sure of it. Anxiously she chuckled, stood up, brushed the snow from her hands. Dark humor made her giggle.

"How funny, Wilson! You sure got me there!"

No reply.

The longer she stared at her name the more lost she felt. It sent tingles up her spine. Cold, sharp winds sliced at her cheeks and her hands unconsciously moved up to rub at her arms. The thermal stone in her backpack must be running out because no longer did she feel the secure warmth on her back. Time was running out.

It was with the remaining strength she had left that was used to keep on traveling.

"This is such a bad idea, why did I do this?"

Willow felt as if she were possessed – as if her mind was leading her to someplace. Like she was playing the role of a puppet with someone telling her where to go, what to do. But she couldn't stop herself. Nothing in her head told her that going out in the middle of the winter was a good idea.

Walking, walking, walking, on and on until every limb succumbed to the cold and she could not feel them any longer. Where was she going?

Now she was in the more somber portion of the woods. Willow lost track of where she was hours ago. Trees with faces welcomed her to their domain, mimicking like guardians of the forest. Devilish versions of once effervescent flowers scattered around like hungry ants in a nest, everywhere, driving her slowly insane. And she grew tired of it - wanted to stop and rest forever so her bones would stop complaining.

Then finally he came to her from the shadows, smiling with innocence, taking pleasure from her pain on the sly.

"My my, look who we have here? If it isn't my dear Willow. Say pal, y-"

"You don't look so good," she finished with gritted teeth.

Over his shoulders was the coat he once lent to her, and she couldn't help but admit how nice it fitted on him. Then she remembered how it once belonged to Maxwell and she frowned. More fuel to rage her anger towards him, she guessed.

"Oh love, angry are you? Let out your fire; I have a gift for you and now is no time for such emotions. We need to celebrate!~"

Her brow raised, "Celebrate for what?"

Wilson pulled a conveniently lit pipe from his pocket and inserted it into his mouth.

"For your little adventure, of course! Can't you feel the excitement coursing through your veins? This is such a great opportunity!"

He puffed smoke into her face and she coughed hysterically. She had to take a couple steps back to remove herself from the cloud of tobacco she was trapped in. The aroma almost made her gag.

With misty, irritated eyes she glared at him, "An adventure? What adventure?"

The man of science rolled his eyes in a sarcastic manner, "You'll see soon enough."

"But why not-"

"Enough questions!" He snapped suddenly with sharp, baring teeth, "We don't have much time, and with you asking so many frivolous questions we'll never get on with it!"

He put the pipe away once his needs were satisfied. Her silence let a grin slip across his lips.

"Good. You see, my dear, I was the one who led you here."

That explained why she felt so manipulated.

The puppet master gestured with his hand for her to follow as he walked through rows of pine trees. Willow pursued after him, his entity somewhat sparking her interest.

Her hair constantly snagged onto the leaves and she growled as she tugged on her twin tails with impatience. If her guest wasn't here, she would have burnt down the forest by now. At the hinting of her lighter, she grazed her fingers over her pocket and then sighed in relief – the bulge in her pocket was still there.

After converting through the leafy mess, the pair stood in a desolate cirque. Well, a cirque not quite so empty.

In the center stood a door or a portal of some kind, resembling a familiar face on its design. An abundance of evil flowers crowded around it, and surrounding them was a tight circle of trees. If it weren't for Wilson she doubted she would've found this place.

"What's this?"

"This," he said with a widening smile, "is the answer to all of your questions."

"This…thing?"

"My door, to be precise."

Mind full of hesitance, her hand reached out to stroke the wood of the machine; she fingered the metal that lined up in some spots and studied the intricate designs closely. This seemed all too familiar for her to comprehend. Perhaps she'd been here before. Visited this place in a dream, maybe.

He didn't let her finish examining the foreign structure; with an urgent voice he spoke, "Come, Willow, you must do this."

"This could be a trap," she declared and stepped back.

Wilson already tricked her once, who said he wouldn't trick her twice? Even if he seemed soft as a pillow one moment and hard as a rock the next, he was still the ruler of this island. Nothing he said could be trusted. For all she knew he could be leading her to her demise.

"You want to go home, don't you?"

His question saved her from her raging sea of thoughts and shielded her against the waves.

"…Home?" The word tasted sweet on her tongue.

His lip curled ever so slightly, "Pull the lever and find me."

Willow gulped, eyed the crank as if it were poison, slowly approached with caution. Manipulation and puppetry was what he was coveting for.

"Do it!" his voice urged.

She was not aware of what would happen if she pulled it, nor what was beyond this door. But if Wilson wanted her to find him then she would not back down from his challenge.

Carefully, the fire starter pulled on the lever. The machine whirred with life, and the puppet master laughed maniacally.

"See you on the other side!" He bowed down sarcastically and then vanished in smoke.

"What?! Wilson? Where did you go?!" She began to panic; he tricked her!

"Come back!"

She clenched her fists, and her thoughts soared with what consequences were to come.

Then something grabbed her.

Their dark, shadowy hands reached from the earth and clung to her limbs, digging deep into her flesh, pinning her down towards the ground.

"No! No!"

The will to fight slowly diminished as she slipped into darkness.

There was no use in struggling. She was already gone.

Falling. She was falling.

Gravity pulled her into an endless abyss, dragging her through a pitch black void, feeling like nothing for a matter of minutes.

Whether her eyes were opened or closed it didn't matter. There was nothing to neither see nor hear. Was she…dead? No, she couldn't be.

Finally Willow's body found purchase and a huge breath of air escaped. The last of the oxygen in her lungs disappeared from the fall; she couldn't breathe. She laid there similarly to a dying animal, with her chest barely rising, and sores aching from her head to her toes. There were a countless number of things she felt, but alive was not one of them.

And everything stung like bug bites - her organs could have been mashed together into a bloody, gooey consistency and she wouldn't know.

Ouch.

The pyromaniac opened her eyes, only to be blinded by the greeting of the morning sun. Then a shadow cast over her; a man peered down and studied her features with glee.

"Thank Newton, I'm glad you made it! You had me worried there for a second! It took you a long time to get here, you know."

She tried to move but every bone felt chopped endless.

"A-Agh…"

She prayed she didn't break anything. Now that would be extremely unfortunate.

"You know, you look a bit troubled." His eyes glinted with a sadistic curiosity, "Let's see if you can handle this thing called a challenge, shall we?"

Wilson's smile broadened at her pain. What a pitiful creature! If his plan worked out perfectly, then all of his time studying her, taking notes of her strengths and weaknesses, would be worth it. It was now her turn to finish the puzzle he started.

"Find four of my special things and you'll be rewarded." He turned back to leave, then added quietly, "If you survive, that is," and retreated without another word.

After Wilson's departure, she felt free again. Her body didn't ache like it did minutes ago. It was like his presence pinned her to the ground, and so when he left the power that was controlling her left with him.

She flexed her fingers and then sighed in relief – they still worked. Willow sat up and took in the world around her.

Then suddenly her eyes flew open and she scrambled back; a single spider, lurching to take a bite out of her. With her heel she crushed the arachnid's skull with a single blow. Guts and slime oozed onto her shoe and splattered onto her leg.

"Disgusting!" She pinched her nostrils at the putrid aroma that lingered in the air.

However, that wasn't the only spider. There were hundreds more, producing, colonizing. Everywhere she turned - humongous dens towered over her, drenched in clumps of silk and sludge.

Surely she couldn't survive in a world with such hellish conditions. Wilson must be insane to have simply tossed her into a world where the chances of survival were slim and starvation was a key factor.

Well, he did do that anyway.

She tried her best to ignore the homes of hundreds, perhaps thousands of spiders as she explored the vicinity she was spawned into. All dens sat in a gathering with a ring around a center piece. The smell was almost unbearable. Even when she wandered away was it no different than standing right next to it. They were everywhere.

Willow hiked aimlessly through the woods, picking up twigs and grass along the way. She still had her lighter though; she could feel it beating in her pocket. Maybe Wilson pitied her and let her have her prized possession in these times of darkness.

Ugh, I wish I knew what was wrong with you, Wilson.

She flicked on her lighter and began burning down clumps of trees.

You seem so familiar to me sometimes, and I don't know why that is, but I promise that I'll figure this all out.

She used one of her flint to make an ax. Every chop made a withered tree scream as its charcoal fell onto the floor.

It's like you have two sides and I don't know which to believe. You can be so confusing at times, you know that?

Willow collected its remains and continued on her quest.

I see you stare at me from the corner of my eyes and you're different – can you sense the familiarity too?

A shake of her head followed. Dusk was about to arrive soon.

She struggled to fit all of her items into pockets, so she gathered them within the hem skirt.

You're in pain. It doesn't take an expert to tell. I wish I knew what was wrong with you.

Willow used what daylight she had left to gather food and other materials, but flint seemed to be the least adequate. There would be one here and there, hiding behind trees and rocks, but she figured it was part of the puzzle.

She huddled by the fire, small and boring, with eyes darting anxiously around her. The fear of a loose spider leaping from the darkness and biting her made her cringe. She could hear hisses off in the distance – it made her skin feel itchy.

Unbeknownst to her, a spider bite was going to be the least of her worries.

A couple arachnids weren't enough to do major harm to her, right? The mammal-sized creatures here were unlike anything that ever existed back in the real world. And she didn't even want to get started on the warrior-specified ones.

Then out of the blue, there was a beep

Then another, and another, coming from a bundle of items on the ground.

"What's that?"

She dug through her inventory, her brow raised as it examined a divining rod. It must be making some kind of noise.

"Weird, I don't remember picking this up…"

The noises coming from the speakers were soft and weak. To her, it looked like a Voxola PR-76 radio head attached to a stick. She swore she saw the radio before, but the thought was shrugged off. After a long day, Willow was tired. She forgot all about the arachnids swarming the land. Soon she succumbed to sleep as the tiny fire crackled beside her.

...If only these foreign things were to explain themselves to her.

She supposed she could only ask them when the time was right.