Aaaahhh! I'm sorry for posting so late in the morning, guys. I totally forgot today was Friday.

Thank you for reviewing!

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Chapter 158: the Architect's Gate

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"The price today is weapons," said Pandora, straightening after reading the small sign beside the door. Ellie thought she sounded a little sour. Well, Ellie would be, too. Those spears were works of art, for all that some of the woodwork had gotten a little ectoplasm-stained these last couple of days. Actually, the battle-stains only added to their appearance.

"I don't like the sound of that," said Abderus. "What if there's an ambush on the other end?"

"In the Goblin Market?" asked the navigator. "Not likely. Bad for business."

"Everyone has a price," opined Abderus, "and it's lower for merchants."

"Merchants are people, too, Abderus," said Pandora, "and they have their own pride."

"They'd have to bribe the people who run the Gate, too," said Cynosura, "and if anyone found that out, well, guess who wouldn't be getting their research materials."

"Who does that anyway?" asked Ellie. "Run the Gate, I mean."

"Excuse me?" called a person behind them. "You're holding up the line."

"Very well. Abderus, as you are concerned, you may go first."

Abderus nodded grimly, and pulled a long, wicked knife from... somewhere. He fed it into a slot by the side of the door, and stepped through as it opened. It snapped shut quickly behind him.

"What did you mean, research materials?" asked Ellie, as Pandora motioned another Elysian forward.

Cynosura shrugged, an expressive movement with four arms. "I assume that's what they use all this stuff for. Consider where we are, after all."

"I guess," said Ellie.

"Maybe not the energy, though," said Cynosura, contemplatively. "They have to power this somehow, don't they?" She shrugged, clearly dismissing the problem from her mind.

Ellie then realized a problem.

"I don't have a weapon," she said. Not unless she counted herself, anyway.

"I have spares," said Pandora. "A number of them." She handed a knife, small, but well made, with interesting patterns running up the blade, to Ellie.

"Thanks," she said.

It seemed Pandora intended to go last, because she sent in all the other Elysians, then Iceclaw and Danny, and then Ellie. It made sense. Although making sure they were in control of what was going on in front of them was important, vitally so, at the moment an attack was most likely to come from behind. There really wasn't any reason to expect them to go to this way, after all.

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Oh, how Issitoq wished he could attack the abomination and its spawn in the Goblin Market. Technically he could, but Pandora would be right there and Issitoq didn't need visions of the future to tell him how that confrontation would go in his current state of agitation.

He needed something foolproof.

His long existence told him there was no such thing, but, whatever he did, it only needed to be foolproof up until that thing died. Issitoq could improvise from there. Surely they would all see the wisdom in it, then, see that it was better than the consequences of the rule of something so unclean, so monstrous. If only they saw now.

The thermos waiting in the vaults of the Panopticon...

No. That was desperation. He could see it now. He ought to have left it with Clockwork, except that Clockwork, in his infatuation with his creature, might have set it loose. No. Better to have it be under the watchful eyes of the Observants.

Perhaps- Perhaps he could disrupt the portal, trap Pandora on the other side of it. Then he could have a freer hand with what to do with the others. The Elysians and the merchants would be a sad, but necessary, sacrifice. It wouldn't take much. He just had to-

The door of his workroom burst open, disrupting the hold he had on the portal, and uselessly expending a few precious grains of the hourglass's sands. He whirled, furious. He had given specific, very specific, instructions to his subordinates that he was not to be disturbed.

"My lord- My lord," said the Observant cowering in the doorway. He was a young one, probably not even in to his fifth decade. There was a look to the young ones- An odd way of movement. Halting. Cautious. They hadn't yet mastered the art of seeing with a single, long, perfect perspective.

"What?" ground out Issitoq.

"The- The containment device you brought back," said the young Observant. "It's failing."

"What?"

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Dan was thinking about escaping. Only thinking, at the moment. He was thinking... He wanted to be victorious, powerful, feared! But... What did victory mean, in the here and now?

He'd had a long time to think. A long, long time. He wanted to escape. But for what?

To do what?

He'd wanted to make his younger self follow in his footsteps, to make it so that everything he had done would be done, to ensure his existence. Because it had to be done, and it might as well be him. Might as well be a monster like him. Someone already damned and doomed.

It had to be done, even if it was evil. It was for the best. He knew that.

So why were his thoughts so... muddy? That was the word. He had been full of purpose, clarity, and hate, but now he was confused, and distracted. Lost. It was from being stuck in here for so long, from being trapped. It made him lose sight of what really mattered.

He pressed against the sides of the thermos. This was all Clockwork's fault, that old meddler. Snatching him away just when he was about to be done. Just when he was about to be able to stop. It wasn't fair.

His lips curled. He was worried about fair, was he?

It was like he was trapped in his own personal hell. Having to do this again, and again, and again.

(And, if it was just him, it would be fine, wouldn't it? He deserved it, if anyone did.)

He growled. He had kept out thoughts like this for so long, shut out his emotions for so long- He shouldn't be thinking of things like this, no, no, no. As soon as he got out, he would do it all again, and it would be better, and he'd be done, and he'd be too powerful to touch, this time around and this time-

This time he could send him on, his younger self. Get rid of him. Kill him. Because now he knew, they weren't really the same person. Divergent timelines. He existed separately, now. He could do it, and it would be a mercy. It would all be a mercy.

He continued his push against the walls, and smiled savagely as he heard them squeak.

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Issitoq silently stared at the thermos, at its bulging sides, at the not-quite-cracks. This was Clockwork's fault, that rebellious brat. He didn't know how Clockwork had sabotaged it, but, surely that's what had happened. Trying to make him look bad, trying to destroy him... Treacherous slave, how dare he, how dare...

Issitoq forced himself to still. He had to regain control of the situation. He blinked slowly, thinking. He couldn't see the Panopticon being destroyed by the thing in the thermos, not immediately, so whatever he did, it must work.

Perhaps he could set this one on the abomination after all. They would destroy each other. It would be the neatest solution. Yes.

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Clockwork watched the scene through one of his many temporal lenses. He was in his youngest form, curled inwards, with his tail wrapped securely around himself. He was alone in Long Now. He'd sent Oleander away, back to Libra, and Nephthys had been forced to leave to deal with a rogue portal halfway across the Realms.

Now that the principal players had left the Digressed Tower, Clockwork could see the future clearly again. He was even able to trace backwards to see what had happened, in the Tower. It wasn't good, but Clockwork hadn't expected it to be.

As for the futures, those many, branching, futures, so many of them depended on what happened there, now, in that room. What Issitoq said didn't matter, not really. But what he did, oh, there was a fork in the tree, a great and terrible one, and no doubt Issitoq was blind to it. Curse the Observants for their singular perspective, their refusal to see things from other points of view.

Issitoq could still choose the path of sanity, he could still pull back from this. He could bring Dan back to Long Now, and Clockwork could repair the thermos. There was still a chance, however slim, however small.

But if Issitoq didn't make that choice, then whether he chose to let Dan out or not, the paradox would be free in a week.

The paradox... Clockwork could stop this, even now. Dealing with Dan, ending Dan, was well within the constraints set him by Issitoq. But... Clockwork followed the thread of time onward. No, that wouldn't do, that wouldn't work. Not the way he wanted it to. Not in a way that would be good for Daniel and Danielle. Not in a way that would be good for the worlds.

He would have been biting his nails if it weren't for his gloves.

Would Issitoq choose sanity or madness?

Would he- And there it was. Issitoq had finally made his decision, his real decision, and the immediate future coalesced. The Observant in the lens reached out to touch the thermos, and it disgorged a column of blue-white light. A shape, more slender than it had been when it went in, but still imposing, formed, shadowy, behind the light.

Madness it was. Clockwork made a small, noise, like a wheeze, in the back of his throat. He wasn't sure if he didn't prefer this outcome, but he hadn't had enough time to work on Dan, not nearly enough at all. The choices he could make from this were multitudinous, and there was no way for Clockwork to rule out a choice. He splintered the timeline as badly as Daniel did, now that he was free.

But that was a good thing as well as a bad thing. It meant Dan could make a choice, that he might make a choice.

Clockwork watched, seconds slowing down to nothing and infinity. This would be the first choice of many. What would it be?

Would Dan strike Issitoq down? He hadn't destroyed him in the other timeline, the one that didn't exist, instead preferring to torment him. Clockwork supposed he had a right to it, considering that Issitoq had sent the ghosts that killed his family and friends in that reality. But he had done the same to any ghost that had even so much as inconvenienced him in life, while killing those who he had never met.

Would Dan cooperate with Issitoq, despite his hate? If he saw something he wanted, perhaps. He was more than ruthless enough. He had done similar things in his past. He had done so with Fright Knight, all the while planning to betray him.

Would he flee? And where would he go? What would he do when he got there? There were places where he would never be found, should he wish it, places where he could build up power. Would he go after those he had killed before, those he had tried to kill before? He could do that, too.

He could do one thing, and then the other, even. That would be most likely, if Clockwork made his guesses based on his behavior in the other timeline, but he had changed. Clockwork just wasn't sure how much.

The blue-white light died down, Dan's fiery hair took over the task of illuminating the room. He looked down his nose at Issitoq. Without all the extra bulk, his resemblance to Danny was much more pronounced. He barred his teeth in disgust, and vanished.

Truly vanished. Dan had the ability to teleport. He was no longer in the Observants' Panopticon. Issitoq was left, furious, but alive.

The tension in Clockwork's body eased, slightly. Dan's motive for leaving had yet to be revealed, but he had left without violence.

There was hope.