Without further ado, I present you with the final chapter of Long Live the King

Disclaimer: On the off chance that someone skipped right to the end and never saw any of my previous statements, I don't own Don't Starve or any of the characters

An eternity ago, a deal had been struck. A deal between a man craving knowledge above all else, and a shadowy figure who could promise him his greatest desire. Lured in by the siren's call, the man plunged headfirst into the path he believed would see that dream realized.

It was a story as old as humanity. One of the simple overwhelming need to know that which nobody else can possibly know. For as long as there had been people staring up at the sky in wonder, there had always been those willing to do whatever it took to unravel the mysteries of those awe-inspiring celestial bodies.

It was a story, but more than that, it was Wilson Percival Higgsbury's reality.

There was no slow rise into consciousness this time. No waking from a dreamless slumber brought on as his mind collapsed inside of the nightmarish rollercoaster that was Maxwell's doorway. Indeed, the ride this time was so short and sudden that he didn't even have time to lose himself in the turbulent eddies of whatever plane of existence the portal flung him through. One minute he was being pulled in, and the next he was forcibly spat out like a piece of rotten cuisine.

In his tumble, the scientist hit the ground hard. The brutally solid floor beneath him did nothing to soften the blow. Unlike the dirt or grass he'd been expecting, the first taste of this world that he received was cold, unforgiving, marble tiles.

Momentarily dazed by the impact, Wilson shut his eyes and struggled to fight against the splitting headache that was now centered where the back of his skull had met the floor. With a groan of discomfort, he reached one hand up to tenderly probe the area and look for any signs of serious damage.

The gesture sent a sharp tinge of pain through his head, but came away dry. No blood. That was a good sign, but no guarantee of safety. Blunt force trauma didn't have to break the skin to give him a concussion.

Pushing away the cheerful thought of possible internal hemorrhaging, the scientist opened his eyes to look up at a vision that was all too familiar.

Total darkness.

With a start, Wilson sat bolt upright, moving too quickly and causing his head to spin. He shook off the unwanted daze to the best of his abilities, looking around in a panic. They couldn't still be in that world. They'd gone through the door. They couldn't still be in that nightmarish land of darkness and living death.

As his heart rate started to slow, he realized that, though very similar, this was not the same world he'd just left behind. Four large pillars topped with fires that didn't seem to require any visible fuel burned around him in a square, illuminating the small area he was laying on. Faded chessboard tiles adorned the floor, hard and slightly rough to the touch. Though he couldn't see for more than a couple of yards past the blanket of light, he got the distinct impression that he was inside a building rather than outside in the wilderness. It had been so long since he'd actually inhabited one that the lack of ambient noise and moving air was slightly disconcerting.

More than that though, he knew this world had to be different because of the shadows that surrounded him. The earlier world had been oppressive and hungry. Darkness looming over his frail form in an attempt to break in and smother him. This one was different. Not benign by any stretch of the imagination, but less… aggressive. It was distant. Expectant. Observant. Instead of feeling like it meant to do him harm, it almost felt as though it was watching him with the rapt attention of a diligent scientist observing a subject.

Something was off. Wilson knew that immediately. It wasn't just the change in atmosphere or the total stillness of the world around him. Something important was missing. It took him several moments to figure out exactly what it was, and when he did he could hardly believe he hadn't seen it sooner.

He was alone.

Jumping to his feet and whipping around in place, the gentleman scientist cast his gaze into every dark corner, growing increasingly desperate as the knowledge of his isolation became more and more apparent.

"Wendy?" He called, hoping against hope that the others were nearby, but simply out of his range of view. "Wolfgang!? WILLOW!?"

With each name, his voice continued to rise. He repeated those three words several times until his throat was hoarse from shouting. Silence was his only answer. Not even an echo responded. It was as though his voice had crumbled away to dust the moment it had left the confines of his lit stage.

Swallowing the urge to lose himself in fear, Wilson did what he always did when faced with a new problem. He approached it scientifically.

The last he'd seen of them, they were being pulled into Maxwell's doorway at the end of the last world. Though Wolfgang had seemingly sacrificed himself to save them, Wilson had seen the flash of darkness that had shot out from the doorway and plunged into the lake below. He had to imagine that its goal was to drag the strongman to safety.

They'd all been pulled in. If Wendy's previous remarks about rules and regulation had been correct, that meant they would all have progressed to the fifth world together. Logically speaking, that meant that, for whatever reason, their group had been split up before being deposited. All he had to do was find them again.

Wilson didn't allow himself to think about the fact that his assumption was entirely based on Maxwell being bound to certain restrictions. He couldn't afford to let himself worry about the 'what-ifs'. The moment he started thinking about those, his goal would become infinitely more difficult.

Shutting his resolve in place with mechanical precision, the scientist turned to take better stock of his surroundings.

Darkness on all sides. Four beacons of light around him. They didn't seem to be natural fires, so he couldn't be certain how long they'd burn for. Their flickering flames were far quieter than they should have been, being so subtle that he'd have been hard pressed to hear them had the rest of this place not been entirely silent.

The floor beneath him was bordered off in a sort of path, edging the designed tiles with duller, less impressive ones. He could only imagine that it was the way he was meant to go, but he had no torches left on his person. At some point during the mad dash away from the undead, one of the risen corpses had torn his backpack away and taken all of his supplies with it.

A challenging obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. A quick pat at his side assured him that his knife was still in place. That came as both a reassurance and a concern. In the worst case scenario, he could don the shadow armor and try to brave the darkness while under its protection, but that would have to be an absolute last resort. Something about this world left him feeling like drawing on those powers now would be a very bad idea.

That left him with few other options. Taking a step forwards in an attempt to get a closer look at the pillars, Wilson nearly tripped as his foot bumped into something lying on the floor. He stumbled, only just managing to avoid tipping over, before casting his gaze towards the ground to see what the offending object had been. Hopefully something he could use.

It came as no small surprise when he laid eyes on something that was very familiar. Still and silent, the divining rod was placed in the center of the floor, looking for all the world like it had been waiting there for him.

Part of him wondered just how the device had escaped his notice, but a much larger part already knew. He'd grown so accustomed to the constant noise given off by the object that its current soundlessness tricked his subconscious into believing that it simply wasn't there. For a long while, Wilson simply stood there, looking down at the odd radio with no singular thought in his mind. Seeing it like this just looked so… out of place.

Very slowly, he drew back to his present predicament. The divining rod couldn't light up the dark, nor could it lead him down the right path if it had fallen silent. It had served its purpose, so taking it with him would do nothing but weigh him down. He knew that. He knew it with absolute certainty. It was the logical conclusion to draw. And yet, even with that undeniable truth, he still picked it up regardless.

"Just what are you anyway?" Wilson pondered aloud, eyes drifting over the wooden construct. Predictably enough, he received no answer.

Sighing in resignation at his own sentimentality, he shouldered the product of his addled mind and turned back to focus on the matter at hand. The darkness remained as solid and passive as ever, standing tall and motionless beyond the small wall of light. The scientist took another step forwards to get closer-

-and very nearly jumped out of his skin when two more flame holding pillars sprung to life. With a startled cry, he tripped backwards, landing heavily on his rear and scrambling away from the unexpected objects. No sooner had he done so than the flames sputtered out and plunged the area they'd been illuminating back into the shadows.

Taking a moment to recover his senses, Wilson blinked back the shock and realized what had just happened. There were more marble structures in the darkness to light his path. He'd just freaked out over something that was supposed to help him. Despite fearing for the safety of his companions, the scientist was grudgingly grateful that nobody else had been around to see his blunder.

Rising to his feet once more, he paused to dust off his clothing before turning back to the direction he was meant to follow. Edging forwards, he was once again greeted by two new flames blazing up and driving back the shadows before him.

Right. He thought. This isn't meant to be another challenge world. This is the end. This is where we confront Maxwell.

Even so, he still kept one hand on his knife in case the torches suddenly disappeared and left him standing alone in the dark. One couldn't be too careful when dealing with the two-faced creations of their sinister host.

With some measure of confidence restored, Wilson set off into the unknown. Pairs of newly lit pillars would appear in front of him at regular intervals even as the ones behind him faded. Their softly crackling embers were the only sounds that could be heard in the vast expanse around him besides the tapping of his shoes against the tiles. It was a strange sound to the man who'd grown used to striding through grass and dirt for so long.

Every so often, the main path would have two smaller trails diverging from it in opposite directions. He'd tried examining them in the hopes he could find out what they were meant to lead to, but the torches remained fixed on the path he'd been walking and no new ones came into existence for the alternative routes. Not wanting to test his luck in the dark, he opted to continue on his way.

As he walked, the scientist became increasingly aware that this could be a trap of some kind. Perhaps it was meant as some final test to lure him into a false sense of security. Such a devious turn of events could spell disaster, but at the same time he couldn't do much besides walk right into it. If he tried to stay in one place and wait, he'd likely end up starving to death long before anything beneficial happened. There were no supplies around here, and the only breaks in the chessboard tiles were occasional patches of dirt with dead bushes and sticks poking out of them.

Despite himself, Wilson actually found that he was growing board as he progressed. One could only keep up a sense of mortal terror for so long before it began to lose its potency. After that, it would take more and more to get a rise out of them. Though suitably ominous with its shroud of shadows, this world was hardly the most sinister of the ones he'd gone through, and he was having a hard time staying tense. It was actually rather tame when compared to the harsher ones like the world of winter or the one he'd just left.

With a shake of his head, he dismissed those distracting comparisons from his mind. Now wasn't the time to be worried about such things. All he had to focus on at the moment was putting an end to this madness once and for all

Try as he might, he was only partially successful in remaining alert. With so little to look at and so few noises to keep him centered in the present, his mind would inevitably start to wander without him knowing it. Each time, he would force himself to leave any stray thoughts behind. Each time, he would soon slip back into the same unwanted haze.

It was due to this constant difficulty that he didn't notice the change at first. When the light touch of sound reached his ears, he dismissed it as another creation of his wandering mind. Try as he might though, this one refused to leave.

It took a whole five minutes before he finally realized that the sound wasn't coming from inside his head. Grinding to an immediate halt, his head perked up as he recognized something he hadn't heard in the longest time.

Music.

It was distant and difficult to make out, but it was unmistakably music. It was something that none of Maxwell's previous worlds had contained. In all his time spent foraging and surviving in the wilderness, he'd never realized just how much he'd grown to miss the sound of music.

With something tangible to latch onto, Wilson quickened his pace considerably. Music was the sound of human development. Civilization. Community. It didn't simply appear in nature. Someone had to compose the notes and shape the instruments necessary to play them. Hearing it meant that he was very near to other people.

Very near to getting home.

Now practically running, he could hardly keep his excitement in check. This could still be a trap, but his mind refused to slow down long enough to worry about that. His goal was simply to find the source of the music.

The closer he came, the more this anticipation grew, but a sense of warning came with it. Something wasn't right. With each step, it became increasingly clear that the source of the disturbance was in fact the music itself.

Having previously been too far away to make it out, Wilson had only been aware that the drifting sounds had been music of some kind. Now close enough to hear it more clearly, he could tell just how strange it really was.

Slightly off key, and corny in the extreme, his ears were assaulted by the sound of a composition just good enough to be called a song while still being highly irritating. It had the warm crackling feeling that only came from playing out of a gramophone, but far from adding to the music, its weighty notes only served to make it all the more annoying to listen to.

It was so unfitting for the palace of darkness at the center of Maxwell's domain that all of Wilson's paranoia came rushing back to him. Either the cruel man had entirely lost his mind, or something was very, very, wrong.

His trepidation waxed as he made his way forwards. Each step brought the source of that cheesy music just a little bit closer, and he had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what he found.

Without warning, a dozen different flames sprung into existence, momentarily blinding the scientist. The music was very near, and as he recovered from the unexpected brightness, he saw that it wasn't the only thing.

The tiled pathway extended outwards into a sort of chessboard stage. Dominating the center of this area was a large stone statue of Maxwell himself. Contrary to what Wilson might have expected, the man was depicted in a rather dramatic sweeping gesture that angled up towards the invisible sky.

Flanked on all sides, the statue was surrounded by four large chess pieces. Pawns. Each adorned with a different symbol at the top. A flame. A weight. A gravestone. And finally, a beaker. They all stood at equal distances away from the statue. Had it been a piece as well, it would have been impossible for it to safely move to a position where it could escape capture. It was-

"Checkmate."

Wilson exploded into movement at the sound of the voice. Whipping the knife from his belt without a moment's hesitation, he dashed past the strange assortment of sculptures to face the one person who could possess that voice. The very same person he desperately wanted to settle the score with.

"Maxwell!" He shouted, rushing forwards. "It's over! You've… lost…"

His determined statement drifted off as he witnessed the true face of his host. He'd been ready for some terrifying confrontation. A conflict of epic proportions in which he did battle with whatever last ditched plot the madman could come up with. He thought he'd been ready for anything.

He'd been wrong.

A dry, humorless chuckle shook Maxwell's gaunt frame at Wilson's words as a wry grin spread across his face.

"That it is." He drawled, his voice sounding like sandpaper running across a patch of rocky gravel. "Looks like you've got me beat after all. You'll have to forgive me for not standing up to congratulate you."

Maxwell, the absolute ruler of this twisted world, the one who'd torn apart the laws of reality and dragged them all into a living hell, sat before him as the perfect image of a ravaged prisoner. Threadbare clothing hung upon a wasted frame which suffered from terrible atrophy. His arms and legs were shackled to some kind of throne that grew from the darkness, looking to be both solid and incorporeal at the same time. His seat was placed in the center of several stone walls, with the only opening facing forwards and letting him look out upon a world of nothingness.

The scene was broken up by two objects. Off to Wilson's left was a gramophone, playing the same grating ditty that had been bothering his senses this whole time. To his right was a peculiar looking wooden construct in the shape of a circle. It had some sort of opening in its center whose purpose the scientist could only guess at.

Even as his eyes drank in the sight, Wilson found himself unable to fully comprehend it. He'd come all this way, fighting for his life and the lives of his friends, against the man who looked even worse off than they'd been.

"What happened to you…?"

It was the only question he could think to ask. The only one he wanted answered in that moment.

Another bitter chuckle sounded from the trapped man as he gave the closest thing he could to a shrug. The gesture strained against the cuffs holding him in place, causing the surface of the shadow throne to ripple and hum.

"I suppose I got tired of playing Their game." Maxwell said. "Or maybe They got tired of me. Heh. Took them long enough."

So many thoughts raced inside Wilson's mind, cramming against one another in their haste to be spoken aloud. So many unknowns. So many things he didn't understand. But before he could even start to make heads or tails of this situation, there was one thing he needed to do first.

With careful, calculated movements, Wilson made his way over to the gramophone and forcibly wrenched its needle away from the record, effectively silencing the blasted music. As soon as the noise ceased, Maxwell gave a visible shudder of relief.

"Thank you." He sighed, leaning back into his chair heavily. "I've been listening to that song for an eternity."

"What's going on?" Wilson demanded, turning back to the trapped man. "How did you…? What are you…? I…"

"Are you going to be finishing any of those thoughts, or should I just start talking?" Maxwell questioned, not looking the least bit concerned with his growing distress.

Taking a deep breath in order to steady himself, the scientist forced his roiling emotions to calm down. Anxiety and confusion were pushed away in favor of calm logic. He needed to stay on top of things. This was a test, just like all the others.

"Where are my friends?"

Maxwell simply shook his head.

"That's not a question you need to be asking right now." He stated. "They're still alive. Probably. But you've got something else you need to focus on."

Though his frustration burned with the force of a raging inferno, the scientist subdued the urge to scream. He took one final moment to collect himself before continuing.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice now level and even. Though he could still feel the turmoil of the sheer repulsiveness of this situation, none of it showed on his face.

"Finally." The gentleman remarked, shifting slightly in his chair. "It's a story I'm sure you've heard before so I won't bore you with the details. To put things simply, I flew too close to the sun and, like Icarus before me, my wings were burned away. They took a hold of me. They trapped me here and made me their plaything."

He cast a meaningful gaze to the scientist who was listening quietly.

"There was nothing here when I first arrived. Just dust. And the void. And Them. I built everything up with my own will. I created every world you passed through, and so many more besides them. I did all of that, and yet I remain here. Unable to so much as stand. Even a king is bound to the board."

Wilson's mouth had gone dry as his heart hammered in his chest. None of this made any sense. He'd believed he knew all this time who it was he'd been struggling against, but now, standing before the man who'd dragged him here, he was no longer sure. His world had been turned on its head and he had yet to make any sense of it.

"Who are 'They'?" He asked at last.

"They are They." Maxwell replied simply. "Beyond that, I haven't the slightest idea. I don't know who They are, what They want, or why They exist. They just sit and observe. Unless… of course… you happen to get too close…"

A shudder went through the puppet master's body at that as something almost resembling fear flickered across his features.

"Why do you think I stay so dapper? This suit isn't just for show."

"Why did you bring us here?" Wilson questioned. His voice had lost much of its strength, and his words came out far less steady than he'd have liked. "What was the point? Why did you do this to us?"

A vaguely pitying expression took shape on Maxwell's face. Not the kind of pity one shows an injured animal, but rather that which was given to a fool who couldn't see how dull they were being.

"To escape."

Those two words hit Wilson so hard they nearly forced him to his knees. They were the same words he'd been clinging to all this time. Hearing Maxwell say them now… Everything was wrong. The world was wrong. This was wrong, wrong, wrong!

"I did what I could to shove you in the right direction." Maxwell continued. "I think They even took a liking to you. Didn't make a difference in the end though, did it? Now we're both here. Stuck in this place. There's no getting out of here. I've tried everything."

Unconsciously, Wilson's hand tightened around the knife in his grip. He'd entirely forgotten he was holding it. A dark part of his mind told him that there was one thing he could do to free his trapped enemy.

Seeing the small gesture, Maxwell actually chuckled again. A bitter, tired sound that dispelled the violent urge which had been growing in the scientist's heart.

"That won't work." He remarked idly, as if the threat to his life was of no concern. "They won't allow it. I'd know. I've tried many times."

Disturbed by his own train of thought, Wilson cast his eyes downwards. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd considered killing Maxwell. He'd thought about it many times in fact. But now… He simply couldn't. Not here. Not like this.

His gaze was soon drawn to the strange circular device on the opposite side of the chair. With a frown, he considered the seemingly pointless wooden object.

"What is that for?"

"Hmm?" Maxwell asked, sitting up just a bit from his slouched position.

"That. There. What is that for?" Wilson repeated.

He spared the construct only a brief examination before shrugging once again.

"Don't have the slightest idea." The imprisoned king answered. "That's been there since I first got here. I never found a use for it. I can only assume They made it for something, though can't say what."

That couldn't be right. Wilson had no clue just what kind of beings 'They' were, but to have something with no purpose simply didn't make sense. If it had been here longer than Maxwell, it had to serve some kind of function. Taking a step closer, he peered into the small hole in its center.

"You might as well make yourself comfortable." Maxwell said. "There's no going back now. You'll be stuck here just like me. But hey, at the very least you turned off that damned music. That's already a massive improvement."

The scientist wasn't paying attention. His focus was on the wooden device. He felt oddly drawn to it. Another step closer, and the pulling sensation grew exponentially. He knew, absolutely knew, it had to be something vital. He couldn't say how he knew, but it was an undeniable fact burned into his mind.

"Don't feel like talking anymore, eh?" The jailed manipulator remarked. "I don't blame you. Go ahead. Look around. Once you get bored of trying to break out, maybe you can come back and keep me company. It gets terribly boring here at times."

Wilson was beyond hearing at this point. With an almost reverent gesture, the scientist slowly lifted up the divining rod and positioned its handle over the hole in the device. Had he been more concerned with his surroundings, he might have felt a familiar urging pushing him forwards. He might have seen the invisible hands pulling on his strings. He might have known that the shadows were working on his mind once again.

He knew none of this. Only that the device in front of him was important, and that he had to figure out how.

The divining rod descended. Its handle slid into the hole like some long lost piece of a grand machine. Without so much as a fraction of an inch to spare, it locked into place perfectly. It was impossible, and yet it was happening. The object he'd thrown together in a fit of insanity was somehow connected to this structure.

A deafening blast of white noise exploded from the radio on top of it, causing both Maxwell and Wilson to jump in shock.

"What did you do!?" The trapped man demanded, all traces of calm gone from his face. Wilson didn't get a chance to answer.

The whole world shook as a massive tremor rumbled underfoot. With a sound like enormous slabs of stone slapping together, the two humans felt a sudden shift as though reality had been turned inside out and rapidly replaced.

Before Wilson's awe-struck eyes, the shadow throne fizzled and dissolved away to nothing. Maxwell collapsed to the floor in total disbelieving shock, his weathered limbs struggling to hold up his frame.

For an endless moment, nothing moved. Nothing existed. The two of them held in an unbroken silence as the sheer enormity of the utterly illogical occurrence sunk in.

"Free…"

Maxwell's voice broke the spell with a single, terribly soft syllable.

"I'm free…"

A disbelieving unsteady smile spread across his face as he gazed down at his unchained limbs.

"I'm free!"

He repeated those words as a breathless laugh echoed from deep inside his time-worn chest.

"I'M FRE- GAH!"

His declaration was suddenly cut off with a pained choke as he doubled over. A series of strangled cries tore themselves from the newly released king as Wilson looked on in helpless confusion. Maxwell convulsed heavily as his limbs buckled and a terrible scream poured from his mouth.

His mind finally catching up to his eyes, the scientist started forwards in an attempt to do something, but what came next stopped him dead in his tracks.

Before he could so much as reach out, Maxwell's skin began to fall away like crumbling parchment while his keening wail echoed into the surrounding darkness. As if blown by some unfelt wind, pieces of the puppet master broke apart and were swept aloft in a gruesome typhoon. Flesh, muscle, and organs were stripped away, his agonized cry never fading even as the parts of him required to make it were lost. For one terrifying second, all that was left of Maxwell was a screaming skeleton before even his bones were wiped away and all traces of the man were scattered into nothingness.

Wilson couldn't move. Couldn't even comprehend what he'd just witnessed. While his mind struggled with the sickening image he'd watched, he didn't notice as the shadows began to move.

Dozens of midnight-black limbs latched around his limbs as the scientist stood dumbstruck. His shouts of surprised protest fell on deaf ears as he was forcibly dragged to the very spot that Maxwell had been occupying only moments ago. Easily subduing his struggling form, the shadows wrapped around him in a smothering blanket. Wilson could feel unnatural restraints forming around his limbs, and the understanding of what was happening finally dawned on him.

He could feel them now. The creatures in the dark. The same ones that had been present in his blade. They were all around him. They were everywhere. They'd been playing him this entire time, evaluating his worth and finding him to be adequate for whatever twisted purpose They wanted him for.

Maxwell had just been another part of the game. The players, the unseen lords of this world, had been using all of them.

They…

They…

They…

As Wilson's mind slowly faded into the dark and the irritating music once again began to play, he could almost hear voices speaking from the endless darkness.

The old king is dead!

Long live the king!

The first thing that greeted Willow as she opened her eyes was a bright, sunny sky. To her addled senses, it was one of the single most beautiful things she'd ever seen. No more endless night. No more crippling cold. Sun. Sky. Warmth. Light.

Then she remembered. Remembered why they were here, and she practically flew to her feet. Euphoria blossomed in her heart as her shout of triumph tore through the open air. They'd done it! They'd escaped! They'd-

Wait.

It became immediately apparent that something wasn't right.

They'd beaten Maxwell's world hadn't they? That was supposed to be their ticket home. They were supposed to escape! Why were they back here!?

Before Willow's shocked eyes, the sight of their half-built camp lay sprawled in the same position it had been the last time they'd seen it. The pigs were gone, likely having departed when their human companions didn't return, but the log buildings were unmistakable.

They were back where they started.

They were back…

At the start…

They'd escaped…

But they…

Were back…

At…

She wanted to scream. To scream so loud and so much that the reality of this situation would rewrite itself to what it was meant to be. They couldn't be back here. They couldn't! This… It wasn't… They couldn't… No…

Shuffling at her side drew her attention to the others. Both Wendy and Wolfgang were recovering from their ordeal, blinking against the sunlight sky, only to have their expression go slack upon seeing what Willow had already been subject to. Nobody spoke. Nobody said a word as the three of them stood in mutual disbelief.

"Wilson… What happened…?" She asked, her voice pained. In all likelihood, he would be as surprised as she was, but some part of her clung to the vain hope that he might have some explanation that would make this all less torturous.

No reply came.

"Wilson?" Willow questioned, turning to look for him. It was then that she realized that he wasn't right beside them.

"Wilson!?' She cried, her frantic motion stirring the other two up so that they also began looking around for their missing friend. "Where is he!? Where did he go!?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him if I were you."

No.

"He's a bit indisposed at the moment, but that isn't important. I'm sure you'll see him again someday."

Willow froze. That voice could only belong to one person. It was with trembling, slow motions that the fire starter shifted her gaze around to find its source. When she did, her whole world came crashing down.

"Now tell me, what do you people do for fun around here?" Maxwell asked with a grin. "I've just stretched my legs for the first time in ages, and I feel like celebrating."

What will happen to the survivors now? Will Wilson be trapped forever? Who are 'They'?

All these questions and more will be addressed in the sequel to Long Live the King. I don't have a current release date planned, so I can only say that it will be coming sometime after they reveal the rest of the Don't Starve story (considering it is still technically in a beta). If anything I've written so far ends up contradicting the lore, I'll just have to get creative.

Here are some things you can look forwards to seeing:

New characters

New enemies

Giants

The underground

Maxwell being Maxwell

And likely much more

I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has been along for the ride. You guys/gals are great. It's been fun, and will hopefully continue to be fun when the next one comes out.

Until then, this is Disciple of Ember signing off.