After a bowlful of surprisingly chunky stew, Duster leads me into his guest room.
"Come, m'chap, y' can sleep here tonight. You're a guest in m'home, so you're more than welcome to ask for anythin' you need."
"Of course." Bemused by his kindness, I smile. "Thank you."
"Don't worry y'self," Duster says, waving a hand. "It's no trouble at all. Sleep well tonight, 'n' I'll keep an ear out for the Dead Alive."
When he's gone, I lean back against the woollen pillow. It's not the softest thing ever, but it's much better here than sleeping under someone's doorway. The room is pretty, filled with the faint scent of oak and sunflower oil. There's a painting on the wall that could have been painted by a child. A basket on the floor suggests a dog slept here once.
Staring into the innards of the thatched roof allows me to finally collect my thoughts. Of all the places to end up, Tazmily wouldn't be my favouirte, considering Porky's plan and the oncoming Onett armies. Even worse, it puts me in a moral dilemma; I know what's coming, and I know what's at stake. Does that mean it's my responsibility to help?
I've always been a man who took on the roles he was given, but this is a new type of challenge. I'm not a saint, nor am I going to be a martyr. I can't fill out a form to make the terror go away, and then there's the issue of the Dead Alive, which, as far as I'm concerned, has very little to do with Porky and his ideas. Tomorrow, Porky will be here in the village, and maybe that'll be my chance to decide what to do. I don't know how he's brainwashed these people, but I'd guess he's built up some sort of heroic persona. As if he's their saving grace.
A newspaper sits on the bedside table.
Onett Declares War on Tazmily.
It seems his plan has officially begun.
.
.
.
~~o00o~~
Chapter 17: Night Terrors
(Ness)
~~o00o~~
.
.
.
—~0o0*### ###### #############
####### ######## ##*0o—- ###############
It's coming. The Cloak is coming.
It's slow, but don't let that fool you. It's there, always and forever; closer than you expect. It never gets faster, never gets slower. It will not die, it will not wax or wane. It will not give up, not until it has won. No matter where you hide, no matter where you run, it will be one step behind you.
It gets you when you catch your breath. It gets when you turn your back. When it wins, that is the end .
So don't stop running.
Because you'll be running for the rest of your life.
—~0o0*### ############## ##
#### ###*0o—##### ####
—-~~o00o0*##### ##
(Ness)
###### ### #####*0o—~—
—~0o0*######### ####### ##
—-~~o00o 0*######## ### # ##### ###~
In an instant, I'm somewhere else.
There's an almighty crash.
Three knocks. The wardrobe. A Future Human, crying into its hands.
I shudder, trying to understand where I am, where I've been taken. How I moved so far in such a short amount of time...
#########
Suddenly, I wake, panting, and so does Lucas. It takes a while to find myself, but I manage, swimming in the throes of the night.
Lucas's hand grips mine.
Three knocks.
There was nothing when we opened the door. The thought shouldn't have invaded my mind, but it has; something dark and monstrous is on the horizon, I can feel it. Lucas feels it too, I can sense it in his twitches and his eyes, darting like frenzied fish. He's so alive with movement, with paranoia. I never knew I was so tuned in to the smallest elements of his character, but I see everything. Is it wrong to observe him? Am I trespassing?
No. I'm guarding him. Danger surrounds us — closing in like an ungodly mouth.
Lucas pulls the covers from our bodies in a trance-like turn. Something's set him off. He gets like this sometimes, full of little premonitions about this and that. They often turn out to be correct.
On the train, Lucas went rigid. He knew something was wrong, and then the Face appeared.
Last night, Lucas demanded we search the room, and then there was a Future Human.
He's funny. Funny peculiar. Yesterday, I kissed him.
That wakes me up. Damn — yesterday, I kissed him!
"Sensory check," Lucas whispers in my ear, lurching me into reality.
Everything is dark. The smell of blueberries lingers from the candles, but otherwise, nothing is out of the ordinary. All I feel is Lucas's warmth and tiredness. A lot of tiredness…
As if pulled away by some hidden force, I dissolve back into the night.
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.
.
########
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When I next wake, light is streaming through the curtains. Lucas's head is sound against my chest, his mouth very slightly open. Red lies sprawled out on the floor, while Villager's body rises and falls against the morning light.
Toon Link is nowhere to be seen.
Concerned, I shift, letting Lucas's weight fall onto the bed. He moves in his sleep, wrapping his arms around the pillow and hugging it tight. I worry he's having a bad dream, but still, I tiptoe out of bed, being careful not to wake him. He's inhumanly cute when he sleeps — but no! No. I cannot think those thoughts about him.
He's just my friend.
Chills trickle down my spine as I hurry into the corridor. Toon Link is a little way ahead, walking with purpose, deliberation in his footsteps. I follow, not wanting to interrupt him quite yet, but on the stairway, he turns.
His hand flies to his heart.
"Ness! Did you follow me?"
"Yes," I say quietly. "What are you doing?"
"Insomnia." He rubs his eyes. "I had to get out, I just had to go… anywhere else."
"Did you get any sleep?"
"Not really."
"Why not?" I ask. It feels like a childish question.
"Nerves, I suppose." He looks sheepish.
Nerves? So, perhaps his thing for Villager is a little more than that. I'm not sure what to say, though, so I hold my tongue.
"It's 6 a.m.," he mumbles, shaky with exhaustion. "Why're you awake?"
"Strange dreams," I say. "Aren't you tired? You won't sleep if you are wandering."
"I won't sleep in there, either. I'm just gonna go to the music room. You should go back to bed."
"Want to jam?" I ask.
"Jam?"
"You play the percussion, I play the harp. Professor Shulk said art is a catharsis… or something to that effect."
He shrugs. "Let's do it."
And so, I follow him to the music room, taking my position by the harp. I let my fingers glide over the strings, following my instincts. It works wonders, creating sweeping melodies that fill the space with vibrance. Toon Link comes in with the percussion, a steady bass-heavy beat that accentuates every note I play.
A while later, we return to the dorm. It's all just as we left it, Lucas tucked up, Red on the floor, and Villager sleeping in Toon Link's bed.
"You've got no cause to be nervous," I say as Toon Link slips under the covers, a little closer to Villager this time. "He respects you. He has no issue with you being there. He wouldn't judge."
"Right you are," Toon Link says, smiling a little bit. "It's why I like him, I suppose. Goodnight, Ness."
"Goodnight," I echo, and he disappears beneath the blankets.
I move to join Lucas, but something tugs at my subconscious.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
They keep replaying in my mind. Why won't they leave me?
Perhaps something's happening.
Buttercup, please, not now. I just want to go to sleep.
Perhaps you are not alone.
No, that's ridiculous. Nobody came in.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
But I have to search. If I'm to guard Lucas, I need to be certain, I need to check every bed, in every nook and cranny. And suddenly, as I stand, it's as though I know I'm right, that this feeling is real, that I'm not alone in the slightest.
I step forward in trepidation, every hair standing on end. Dread pools in my stomach. Certainty, now, that something else is here, looms.
Even worse, it's as though I know exactly where to look. Under the wardrobe, it's summoning me like a bell.
Heart pounding, I crouch down, casting my eyes under the oaken structure. There's an object, small, glittering, out of place. I reach out, my breath catching in my throat, and then—
That's the last thing I remember.
I'm somewhere else, somewhere far away from the school. Marble arches stretch like crescent moons above my head. Pillars pile up towards a domed roof. It's like a cathedral, infinite and fearsome.
The object is here with me, and I pick it up. It's an egg, golden, smooth, and cold. My chest tightening, I pinch myself, trying to return, but nothing happens.
I don't know where I am.
I'm alone. The thought slices through me like a hot knife through butter. Usually, Lucas is by my side, my voice of reason, but without him, I'm lost. I screw my eyes tight shut, praying I'll open them and be back in the school.
But I'm not.
Fear dives, bombarding me all at once. The air around me is cold, thick with terror. Through the cathedral windows, there is nothing, just endless emptiness. Something whispers in the distance, and I clamp my mouth shut, afraid that someone is listening.
How did I get here?
The thought is impossible and yet, there it is. The boundaries of what we know are slipping away, have been slipping away for days. In a frenzy, I feel the egg all over, desperately hoping it might reveal something, but nothing happens. I bite back mounting dread, trembling from head to foot. What if I cannot ever get back? What if I die here?
There's only one thing I can do. There is a door ahead of me, one that may not have been there before. I start moving towards it, heart pounding, my head racing.
All I know is that I touched the egg, and now I'm here. Someone must've thrown it into the room. While we were so busy examining the Future Human, there had been that thud. I should've known. I should've seen it.
I close my eyes. What would Lucas do?
But all at once, there's a voice in my mind that causes stars to fill my vision and my head to throb. I almost lose my balance, catching myself on a pillar, gasping from the sudden pain.
'I'd keep walking.'
I shudder. I clutch my head, rubbing it hard. But yes, keeping walking seems like the wisest thing to do.
I stride through the cathedral, stopping short before the doorway. It's majestic, with tapestries of fruit hanging from the tallest rafters, impossibly tall pillars soaring into the ceiling. But something tells me this is just the beginning; beyond this entrance will be so much more.
'Something's wrong.'
The throbbing pain returns, so powerful, almost excruciating. But I freeze. I could swear, I'm hearing a voice. An actual, human voice, speaking into my mind. It's different to Buttercup, it's softer, yet... it causes this awful pounding. I stumble against the wall, closing my eyes, frustratedly probing inside my mind.
Feeling like a lunatic, I speak inside my head.
"Hello?"
There's a short pause, and then a response reverberates my skull.
'Hello?'
I throw my eyes open, thoroughly panicked. What the hell?
"What is happening?" I speak out loud, this time.
'Ness — it's me, Lucas!'
I almost fall over. Everything here is so far beyond my comprehension. I've finally cracked. Is this some elaborate trick played by Buttercup, some trick to destroy me further? Am I asleep? My skull burns, and I blink back tears of pain.
"How can you be in my head?"
'I don't know, Ness. How did you get there?'
"I don't know! There was a golden egg. I touched it, and now..."
'A golden egg?' Lucas's voice sounds concerned. How can his voice have tone? It's in my mind!
"What can you see?'" I ask, frightened by this.
'I can see you, but at a distance. I don't think I have a body? I'm following wherever you are going...'
I push open the door, trying to process this new information.
"Lucas," I say. "I'm glad you are here."
'I know, Ness, So am I.' His voice is quivering, sounding like a faulty recording. 'I don't understand it, though. It's all — this is all so impossible.'
"What should I do?"
'I think you should explore. I don't know what'll be here, but I'll stay with you, okay?'
And just like that, his voice falls quiet. My head clears. Deciding it's best not to stay here much longer, I tread carefully down the corridor I've unveiled. The floor is smooth, slippery, and it takes a lot of skill to keep my balance.
There's a door on my right with the number 'one' written on a placard. I open it, and it leads me to an empty room. The silence inside presses like a pair of eyes, just a small, square place, utterly devoid of anything. Blank walls, no windows, but there's still light.
I blink.
Suddenly, I'm plunged into darkness. So much for light! I back away in haste, but I cannot see a thing. I panic, slipping, yelling, blundering into a wall, falling down…
"Ness."
A mangled voice seeps from the dark, wrapping all around me, echoing horribly across my form.
"Ah!" I yelp, falling abruptly onto the hard ground. My voice comes out high. "Wh-Who's there?"
"Aha - ahaha!" The cackle ensnares me, practically pinning me down. "Ness. It's so good to speak to you."
'Ness, it's all gone dark!' Lucas says. 'What is that voice?'
"Who's there?" I call again, sounding braver than I feel. I probe around on the floor for anything I can hold onto, but it's bare.
"You know who I am."
"What is this place?"
"Let's play a game. I love games."
The voice is childlike, petulant yet terrifying, scrambled beyond recognition. I hold myself in the darkness with bated breath, still trying to sound brave.
"What is the game?"
"Let's play hide and seek!"
"I don't want to play your game," I say, inexplicably reminded of Porky. "Where am I?"
'Ness, don't move,' Lucas probes. 'Anything could be around you.'
"Can you find me, Ness?"
I can hardly speak as the light floods back into the room and I'm left alone, limp, on the ground. Glancing up, I again try to process it all, aware that I've been sweating and my shirt is stuck to my chest.
Crash.
I jump. Suddenly, I'm not alone anymore. Of course, there's always a monster — I scramble upward, eyes wide, hand trailing the wall. The creature is robed in a ragged, white cloak, with no visible face or body. Its cloak ripples ominously as it approaches, and webbed, grey claws reach from its folds. An obnoxious grinding noise fills my ears, my lungs wither, and I shudder as it comes closer and closer, grotesque and awful. I shrink back and back, yet still it glides, with no signs of fear or, or mercy—
'Ness, run!'
I'm jolted to attention. Taking a risk, I duck past the claws, sprinting out of the room and into the corridor, slamming the door shut behind me. I turn the key that appears to be in the keyhole, trapping whatever it is inside. I lean back against the door, breathing heavily, infinitely relieved.
I compose myself.
'You know who I am,' the voice had said.
I close my eyes.
"Lucas, what now?"
'Keep exploring, I think. Find a way out. If you can get in, you can get out.'
"But what if I'm trapped here?"
'I know you are scared, Ness.' His tone softens a little, and the pain in my head lessens. 'But try to keep strong, okay? I'm scared for you, too.'
I open my eyes again, rubbing my cheek, and — the creature — it's there! It's here, coming through the wood, and it's too late, I scream, backed against the opposite wall, screwing my eyes shut tight…
'NESS!'
"L-Lucas! It's—"
'SLIDE!'
Slide? Slide!? Has he gone insane? The creature looms, bearing its claws, taking a ragged breath…
'NOW!'
Oh — slide! My eyes fly open. The damn floor — wildly, I shove the wall, pushing off of it like a maniac. My body rushes from beneath my feet, and I glide beneath the folds of the creature's cloak, slipping from under its impending reach...
'RUN!'
My pulse races. I sprint down the corridor as it twists and turns into a labyrinth of paths. But the creature isn't chasing — it's not coming for me, it's gone — I check behind me. I'm safe?
'You did it!' Lucas's voice exclaims, and pain shoots through me.
"Indeed," I say, a little bit giddy.
'Keep going. Don't stop.'
"But how? What is that thing? It walked through wood, Lucas!"
'I don't know. Just keep exploring. There has to be a way out somewhere.'
He's got to be right. I stare down both directions of the corridor I've found myself in. The walls shine a brilliant white, with glittering chandeliers hanging sequentially across the ceiling. There's carpet, some awful maroon and bottle-green pattern, terribly out of place with the gothic architecture from before. It's almost reminiscent of a hotel, the ones that rich sorts stay in on their city tours. As soon as I think this, I notice maroon doors embedded across the walls, all numbered… had those been there before?
Perplexed, I begin walking. There's another slight chill in the air, but there always seems to be a chill in the air.
I come to the end of the corridor, and I turn right at a T junction. The new corridor continues the same as the last, and, slightly unnerved, I continue. I take another right, and another. I realise that should lead me in a square, but there doesn't seem to be any—
'Ness, stop!'
"What is it?"
'That door had your name on it.'
I freeze, turning back. Surely not? But he's right; on a placard, where the room number should be, it reads, Ness.
Curiously, I test the door, and it swings open.
It's just a normal bedroom. I enter. There's a double bed, two bookshelves on either side of it, a neat wooden desk to my left, and a wardrobe to the right. There's nothing special about this place. So, why was my name on the door? I exit the room again, swinging the door back open, and I reread the placard.
You Will Never Escape, it now reads.
I shiver.
Crash.
The fear hits. It comes out of nowhere, catching me like a storm of darkness. I stagger backwards, coughing, a roaring in my ears — I'm sure I hear the call of a rook — I dizzily plunge back into the room, the sensations starting to fade… what the hell? Questions burn in my mind, endless questions, desolate answers.
'Ness, you are really rigid, be careful!'
How can Lucas be inside my head? I collapse onto the bed, feeling foreign pressure rising inside me. I'm going to burn, going to explode, this isn't right, this is impossible, this is, this is—
I break into bizarre, empty shakes, curling up on top of the patterned quilt. My mind, my emotions, my body, they all feel so far removed from one another. I can hardly think for the rushing noise, the pressure, the cold, everything that threatens to pile up at once. I cannot tell if I'm scared, lonely, or sad, and in that one awful moment, my emotions are not my own.
My face plunges into the white pillows, my body vibrating like a leaf. Caught in the darkness, I think I feel another hand.
'Ness, I promise, you'll get out of here.'
"How? It's a prison. I'm not supposed to."
'Because you are Ness, my best friend. You are wonderful.'
"It's because I'm a sodomite. That's why I've been put here."
A wave of nausea overcomes me, and the light in the room disappears.
'Ness, you are not a sodomite. Don't say that. I don't understand any of this either, but you have to stay courageous.'
'How?'
'I'm here with you, Ness. I'm trapped too. You are not alone.'
'But it's my fault, Lucas!'
Lucas's voice disappears momentarily, but it comes back with more force than ever.
'Ness, it's not your fault! I wish I was there to tell you that it's all going to be okay, because - because I believe it will be. Because hope is one thing they cannot take away, so you have to hold onto it, all right? Something's making you want to give up already, but we only just got here. There's time. Ignore it, please. For me. I'm here.'
I'm silent. My thoughts combine, my body alive again.
I open my eyes.
"Ness."
The mangled voice speaks. With no light in the room, I stay still, listening intently for a cloak's hem sweeping the ground.
"Neeeeeeeessss! Can you hear me?"
It's taunting me. I'm funny, I'm stupid and emotional, but I'll let it think that if it wishes. Lucas is right, I'm not alone. I feel the golden egg in my pocket, pressing against my thigh.
"Come on, you are no fun. Why don't you want to play my game?"
"QUIET!" I scream, surprising even myself. My heart pounds, and I find myself standing up. "Explain why I'm here, or I won't speak to you again."
"Well! Temper, temper. You are so fun to play with, Ness."
"I'm not your toy."
"You are. Now, play! Find me."
"I don't want to play with you."
"You have ten hours, Ness. If you fail, you will never escape this prison. If you find me, I may let you go."
I refuse to answer.
"Would some music cheer you up?"
Awful, discordant organs start blaring out of who knows where, pounding into my skull, clouding my thoughts, scraping like nails against a chalkboard—
"Stop it!"
"Much better." The voice is loud, even over the cacophony. "Good luck. Oh, wait. I hope you fail horribly!"
"Wait!" I cry as light fills the room. "Where is this? Tell me more — tell me where I am! How did I get here?"
But there's no response, and as the room glows with colour, the music stops. However, spurred on by the voice's taunts, I stand. I will get out of here. I will find them… and I will make them pay, not for mocking me, but for taking my precious Lucas. In stoic defiance, I kick at the desk, breaking its leg and taking it for any other horrors I encounter. I have to be strong. But how do I find this person? What would Lucas do?
'Search. This room is important, I think. Try the books on the shelves.'
I turn to the bookshelves, and with a striking realisation, I realise that every book is the same. I grab one; it's entitled 'The Cloak.'
I open it up.
#######
It's coming.
It's slow, but don't let that fool you. It's there, always and forever, closer than you expect. It never rushes, never slows. It will not die, it will not wax or wane. It will not give up, not until it has won. No matter where you hide, no matter where you run, it will be one step behind you.
It gets you when you catch your breath. It gets you when you turn your back. When it wins, that is the end.
So don't stop running.
Because you'll be running for the rest of your life.
#######
Shuddering, I turn the page. There is a picture of the creature I encountered earlier. But I look closer; even in the image, the hem sways, the hand reaching further and further forward. I grip the pages, entranced, and I feel something brush against my shirt.
A finger.
I scream, throwing the book against the wall. From it, a webbed claw reaches out, grabbing wildly at the vacant air. It's followed by the sweep of a cloak, and, clambering from the tiny book, the entire creature emerges, emitting a terrible scream.
It's here.
White in the face, I grip the desk leg, holding it over my back. A stack of books tumbles to the floor with an almighty crash, the thud of the egg playing again in my mind. My breathing quickens. The Cloak writhes forward, and I hold the leg like a cricket bat, wildly standing there like some cannon fodder soldier. I haven't played cricket in so long, not since Father demanded it of me, not since the big final against Twoson Primary.
But the match comes back to me in an instant. I'd scored the winning run.
I'd been a hero.
The book said: It will not die.
That doesn't mean I cannot hurt it.
It all occurs in a blinding sequence. I duck, I swing, I strike, and bang! Then, I'm throwing the door open, running, hurling myself into the corridor, and the Cloak is turning, but ever so gradually. It's slow. I'm fast! I sprint, finding a downward stairway, and of course, I'm out of breath already, but I don't care. I laugh. I laugh, despite the fear, despite this place. How do you like that, malicious voice?
'I did it, Lucas!'
'That was brilliant!'
I thunder down the stairs. I know the voice's owner is watching me from somewhere, so perhaps I need to use that to my advantage. Ha, I'm thinking like Lucas! Good. He's clever. I want to be more like Lucas. I look around, thinking hard… what to do next? Where to go? I'm still in the hotel-esque corridors, but I cannot possibly try all these rooms. There must be a clue.
I take a moment to catch my breath. Everything's changed so fast. One minute I'm in school: maths competition, Bayonetta's party, Business Plan, The Face, Future Humans, friends, chaos, virus, war declared on Tazmily, but then, I'm plunged into this world. It's a world of fear, a world where the only way to survive is to run, with no fighting this thing, no knocking it out, but so long as Lucas is here, I've got stamina, enough to last a lifetime. I turn a corner and to my surprise, I'm met with the open sky.
I breathe in the fresh air. But it's peculiar. It seems to be some sort of garden, and certainly not a nice one.
Thistles and weeds climb up every available post or pole, seeking to snag onto anything they can. The trees are leafless and barren, and the space is surrounded by a mountainous stone wall. There's no hope of scaling it, not when there's so little traction… I scramble over the weeds, inquisitive. There still may be an exit among it. I notice a dark protrusion amid some ivy, and I pry apart the leafy constraints, finding… a shovel?
"What is this? Gardening?" I shout. There's no reply.
'Quaint,' Lucas says.
I turn back, dropping the desk leg, replacing it with the shovel in case I need it. But something has changed about the garden; an abrupt red cross has appeared, seemingly painted onto a specifically barren patch of grass. X marks the spot. So, following my instincts, I ram the shovel into the soil and dig.
And I dig.
And dig.
It takes half an hour or so, but eventually, my efforts are rewarded with the prize; a little box, buried six feet deep in the dirt. I'm quick to open it, and I take out a tiny placard.
Room 47.
It's one of the placards from the doors. Perhaps… I need to find that room? Perhaps that's where the owner of the voice is hiding! Keenly, I close my eyes and explain my theories to Lucas.
'That sounds good! I'm keeping my eyes out for you. Stay safe, Ness.'
I smile. Progress. I close the box, and I pocket it. It might be useful later, I reason.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I meander back into the building. Again, the corridors stretch out lazily, sprawled everywhere I look, like some sort of hive. But it should be a simple matter of counting the rooms. I look at the door closest to me, Room 617. Okay, that's quite far away from 47. So, I check the room next to it. Room 358.
Oh.
The doors aren't sequential. That's okay, though. Possibly. Probably not. I'll, I'll — I don't know, I'll just wander along. It cannot be too arduous to find it. Thinking intelligently, I dash back outside, grabbing fistfuls of grass, shoving it into my pockets. I'll leave a trail, so I'll know not to go back on myself.
And so, I begin my hunt.
.
.
.
.
.
An hour passes. All right, no luck so far. I fall into a rhythm of sorts, dropping grass by every door I come across and travelling down the corridors I've left empty. But every corridor looks the same, and I'm rather sure some doors have appeared more than once. There haven't been any signs of the entrance back into the cathedral — I have the mildly unnerving feeling that these halls might actually move. I haven't seen The Cloak, though, so I must be moving faster than it is. And if I have a whole ten hours to search this place? There's no chance I'll fail.
So long as I don't stop running.
.
.
.
.
.
Two hours have passed. Every ten minutes, a large crashing noise sounds, telling me how long I've been here. I'm feeling a little tired, but I know I cannot rest, or The Cloak will catch me. My repetition theory has been proven now; I've seen Door 70 multiple times, leaving grass next to it on every occasion. Every time I come across it, the floor is bare.
One time, Door 70 appeared next to 71, but on other occasions, it's not been next to any rooms at all. I'm certain that the corridors, or the rooms themselves, are moving. I never see them do it, though.
The Cloak has only been observed once, at an intersection when I stopped to think things through. I managed to get away by hitting it with the shovel. Lucas keeps me company, telling the occasional joke, giving moral support. Reminding me of the simple fact:
I must not stop running.
.
.
.
.
.
Three hours have passed. I'm tired, and my feet are heavy. I want to stop, I want food, but there is no sustenance for me. I have to keep running, or I may never get out. I've seen doors 46 and 48 countless times, but still never 47. The highest number I've seen yet has been, ominously, 666, but other than that, it's just the same old random digits.
I don't quite know what I'm doing anymore. My concentration often lapses, and frequently, I have to go back on myself to check on the number I just read. Even more frustratingly, my grass has run out, so I could possibly be going over trodden paths.
But I must not stop running.
.
.
.
.
.
Hope disappears so fast.
Eight hours. My thighs burn. No water, no food. Cloak. No 47. Numbers. Fading away.
The halls are evil, and I detest them. The voice is wicked, and I will send it to Hell when I find it. Sometimes I hallucinate steak, luscious and medium-rare. It's never real.
Each time I hear the ten-minute clatter, I allow myself to scream.
I must not stop running.
.
.
.
.
.
Nine and a half hours have passed.
I'm weak. My legs shriek with every step. I've been walking without a break for so long. I've tried to keep talking to Lucas, but our conversation dissipates so easily. Moral support has become meaningless. Everything has become meaningless. I've seen The Cloak multiple times. I think it's catching up to me.
I fall to the floor, almost ready to resign. I'm imprisoned here. What if this is my life now? Eternally hiding from The Cloak, never sure of its location, always searching for a room that likely doesn't exist.
This dry monotony can only last so long. Ten hours is my limit. Ten hours, or I'm trapped here forever, for good. I'm stifled by the blinding reality that this might be my eternal battle, this may be where I spend the rest of my days, all because I'm a sodomite. Everyone at school will easily forget me. I'm not special, I will disappear, dust to dust, ash to ash, just another missing student for the records, another disappearance, surplus to all requirements. I am lost, lost in a cold sea of hopelessness, drowning in the depths of time itself, I—
'Ness?'
"Yes?"
'What if Room 47 is inside a different room?'
...How on earth did it take nine whole hours for either of us to think of that? Buoyantly, I stand, swinging open the nearest door, door 502. I step inside with renewed hope.
It's just another hotel room.
I turn to leave, but to my horror, the door has disappeared. The light flickers, and suddenly, lumps start rising from the carpet — something's coming through the ground! Panicked, I throw open the wardrobe to hide, but a swarm of bats fly out, surrounding me, and I scream. The organ music starts again, even louder than before, and the lumps in the carpet form figures, figures with hands and vicious faces — they're going to get me — they're going to kill me!
Their eyes are glassy, and they're writhing around, and they're rising, and they're all floating towards me, and there's screaming and roaring, and I turn back in horror — the door has returned! I force it open, throwing myself out, panting, slamming it shut behind me.
Everything stops. The organ music, the bats, the rushing noise, it's perfectly still. Hesitantly, I take a glance through the keyhole, and I see that the room has, somehow, become just as it was before.
'That was insane,' Lucas says. 'All these clues, everything being so dramatic… it's as if all this is for show.'
"The voice said it liked drama," I say. "I'm its toy. I'm entertaining it."
'Then we need to get into its head. They've set out clues. They want things to be dramatic. Each room probably has something terrifying inside it. But if that thing kills you, that's the end of their fun. So… I'm guessing whatever's inside the rooms won't kill you. Or, at least, it'll take its time to get you.'
"Reassuring."
'Just watch out for The Cloak. It could appear when you are not looking.'
I open my eyes again. If Lucas is right, then the only thing to do is try more rooms.
Room 58 — I open it. Again, it appears as normal. I step inside, staring around, expecting something to happen, and it does. The desk suddenly collapses, the roof starts descending, and fear strikes me yet again — I'm going to be flattened! Images of the rockfall slice into my mind, images of Dark Pit; the ceiling lowers, and I lay flat on the floor, trying to turn for the exit, but the ceiling is below the door handle. I shout, spinning around, and I see a space in the wall — I slither through, out into the corridor, breathing hard. Another impossibly narrow escape.
I'm not sure I can face many more of these rooms. What if I make a mistake in one and I die? Panic builds, and my lungs burn. I want to cry, suddenly worrying about the time limit. How many rooms can I even conquer? What happens when the time is up? I look down the corridor, devoid of hope, and there's The Cloak again, gradually floating towards me. Perhaps I can do something clever to get around it, but I cannot think, I cannot think clearly, so I turn and I run.
I'm sick, sick and tired of this dreadful place. This prison. It's like a torture chamber. Everything is designed to hurt me, to exploit me, to torment me. And I've been here so long — for hours! I want to see my mother and sister. I want to see Lucas's beautiful face, I don't even care if I want to kiss it anymore. It feels like the walls are closing in, my chest compressing, there's a rising feeling inside me, desperation. The claustrophobic thoughts batter me senseless, and I try not to weep with despair.
'Ness, you're doing it again.'
"Doing what?" I cry.
'Giving up.'
And so what if I am? It's a lost cause! I drag myself into another room. Perhaps this time, I shouldn't leave. This time, I should let the horror kill me. My eyes are so glazed over; everything is tinged with purple… I stagger, this has to be the end. But nothing happens, there doesn't seem to be anything horrible in this room; why not? There should be! I glare up at the wall. A clock glares back at me, but it has nine hands, spinning rapidly around. I don't understand. I haven't understood for so long.
Crash.
The hands spin as the clock strikes 9:40. Seemingly, this is what chimed the ten-minute warnings. I feel so faint; I'm thirsty, I'm hungry and exhausted. I step further into the room, I turn back to face the door, and…
It's… my family? Mother, Father, Tracy, all just standing there.
I freeze. What are they doing? Why aren't they moving? But suddenly, The Cloak reaches through the door, and I stand with alarm.
"Watch out!" I cry, but I'm too slow. I dash forwards, and The Cloak reaches out a greying hand, plunging it into Mother's chest. She collapses to the floor.
"Mother!" I scream, but The Cloak turns, gliding towards Tracy.
"Tracy!" I yell, but she doesn't hear, and The Cloak reaches forward, the clawed hand grabbing her neck. Her face lights up in momentary terror, and she collapses to the ground.
"Father," I sob as The Cloak turns once more. I try to still the bitter sting of tears. "Father, get away from it!"
"There's nothing there, Ness," he says.
"Yes, there is!"
"You are a liar." His face turns purple. "You are a liar, Ness! You disappointment. You've failed me. You've failed me time and time again, and - and—" The Cloak cuts him off, pressing a hand to his chest. He falls to the carpet, where he dissolves into nothingness. The Cloak turns to me, and I step back, dropping to the floor, screaming from the horror of it all. Tracy. Mother. I want to be sick, but it's coming, it's coming for me, I... but I want to die. I should let it get me, I should allow it to catch me, I...
'Ness!'
But Lucas.
My lip trembles as I face the creature backing me into the corner. Something else is by my side, a wooden door with a missing placard.
Room 47.
I force it open, tumbling inside and kicking it shut behind me. My hands shake. My body convulses.
'Ness, you should sit down.'
"No!" I exclaim.
'Ness, please, I understand it.'
"I don't care!" I screw my burning eyes shut. "My family is dead!"
'Ness, just listen!'
The Cloak's outstretched arm starts to come through the door, and I back away, my vision blurring.
'The clock, the light without a source, the unending passageways. Where have you seen all of that before?'
"I don't know," I cry, tears stinging my cheeks. "I don't know, Lucas. Just tell me!"
'It's a dream. You've been trapped in a dream, you have to be!'
I'm silent for a few moments. Lucas's voice comes once again into my mind.
'Every bit of this is impossible, Ness.'
"It feels real," I say, hoarse. But if it's a dream, my family is still alive. They cannot be dead. It must be a dream. I won't let it be any other way.
My hysteria reduces as I step away from The Cloak. I turn to see what is in this Room 47. It's a grand-looking space with a golden throne at one end. In it, there's a hooded figure.
I swallow the lump in my throat, and I dry my eyes. Now is the time to look strong. I feel Lucas's calming presence in my mind.
'I'm here.'
"I know."
I surge forward.
When I reach the throne, the figure stands, their robes draping purple and gold on the tiled floor. There's some sort of intake of breath as they advance, and I stand firm, gripping tightly onto the shovel's handle.
"I know what this is," I say, mustering all the courage I have left. "This is a dream."
"Oh, clever Ness, who's a clever boy?" sneers the figure. Their voice is steadier here, less searing. It fills me with more confidence.
"Let me wake," I demand. "Keep your end of the deal."
But they shift, gleeful. "I thought you'd say that. Unfortunately, no can do."
"You said if I found you, you'd let me go."
"I said I might. Which means I might not!" They come forward, their hood rippling. I try to make out the figure beneath them, but it's well-hidden. "You are at my mercy, Ness. Everything you see is mine."
"That's not fair," I snarl. "This isn't your dream. Who are you, Buttercup?"
It's a shot in the dark. The figure laughs, cruel. "No. Of course not."
"Then who?"
They laugh again. I can just about make out pale white skin.
"Full of questions today, Ness... for the time being, you can call me the Dreamlord. Now, check your pockets."
"That's not your real name."
"Pockets, Ness!" The Dreamlord sweeps forward, ignoring the question. "Names come later."
"This?" I draw out the golden egg, now ice cold, glowing with some sort of radiance. Angry as I am, I'd still like an explanation.
"That's right. My invention," The Dreamlord says, rubbing gloved hands together. "When you touched it, it breached your mind. It put you to sleep, allowing me to fabricate a dream suited just for you."
"That's a lie," I say stubbornly. "That's impossible."
"Nothing's impossible when you are a genius. And it worked so well on you! All the darkness, all the misery, all the trouble in your mind… making you so susceptible to new horrors."
The Cloak's grinding sounds louder behind me, but I stand my ground. I hold my own before the figure, raising the shovel in menace.
"You should've done your research, Dreamlord. I may be susceptible to horrors, but I'm also susceptible to solving my problems with violence. Tell me who you are!"
"Oh, Ness, I forgot how overdramatic you can be." He laughs again. "You know who I am."
"Just tell me," I say, advancing. "And then set me free."
"Well, I could," he cackles, throwing himself onto his throne. "But the best thing about being incognito? Not. Telling. You."
He claps his hands, and the shovel, my only weapon, vanishes. I feel my courage beginning to wane.
"Why me?" I demand. "Why pick on me? Why send me here?"
"Because, Ness…" His voice darkens. "I detest you."
"Why?"
"Why?" The Dreamlord growls. "You don't know? Your suffering… it scarcely makes up for all you've done!"
"But I haven't done anything!"
"Ness." He spits on the ground, pointing a shaking, accusing finger. "Even now, You are so deep in denial. You are wicked, Ness. Twisted."
There's a horrible silence. Only Lucas's presence in my mind brings me back to courage.
"Why won't you tell me who you are?"
"That's no fun, Ness." He waves an impatient hand. "I like to keep it a mystery. You deserve to play my games."
Suddenly, the grinding sounds again, much louder than before. I turn, seeing The Cloak only metres away.
"What is that — beast — then?"
"Oh! Another idea of mine." The Dreamlord laughs, twisting keenly on his throne. "I thought it would keep you on your toes. And it did! And it will, for a very, very long time."
"You are going to trap me here forever?"
"I think you've earnt that much, don't you?"
'Ness, ignore him.' Lucas whispers. 'I don't think he knows about me. He doesn't know I'm here.'
Drawing courage from Lucas's words, I stare at the Dreamlord, trying again to see who's really under that hood.
"Before you trap me, tell me more about your golden egg."
"Why should I do as you say?"
"Well, you seem awfully proud of it. It's such an impressive creation, after all..."
"It is." He draws himself back, puffing his chest out a little bit. "It's rather ingenious. It sends a signal to your brain, connecting me to everything you experience. I can imagine the scene and dictate everything that happens. It's built here in this fictional world. I get to control every little thing you see. I can torture you forever, Ness."
"Very clever," I say, drawing the golden egg back out of my pocket. "But why is the egg still in my hand?"
"Aha!" He gives a mad little laugh. "That's because it contains a lovely surprise."
I shake it. This time, it makes a noise.
"Another game," I say, scowling.
"Sadly, the egg cannot be used for dream creation more than once." The Dreamlord stands again, sweeping matter-of-factly across the room. "It happens to make a good storage compartment, though. Good luck opening it up."
"That's clever," I say, trying to get my wording just as perfect as it needs to be. "But have you ever invented anything else?"
"Well!" He cackles for what might be the millionth time. "You and your little friend Lucas would know that better than anyone. I've invented the future of humanity itself."
"Future Human. It's you who's behind them."
"I take partial credit. Others... had a hand in proceedings."
"Who are you?" I ask again.
"I'm not telling you. Why should I?"
"How about The Face? Did you make that too?"
"The Face? I don't know what you mean."
'Don't ask about the grave,' Lucas says suddenly, urgently. 'We don't need to give him any more information.'
"Are you someone at school?" I ask.
"Naturally."
"Why do you hate Lucas?"
"I do not hate Lucas, thank you very much." He looks furious at the idea, and I glare.
"All your Future Humans go after him and him alone."
"I send them after him."
"Why?"
"Questions, Ness! Too many questions. I'm not telling. In fact, that's quite enough information. I'm not telling you anything else."
"Well, neither am I," I say, giving him an impassive look. He stops still, turning abruptly to face me.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not telling you anything either."
"And what would you have to tell me?"
"Nothing at all." I fold my arms, almost daring him to ask more.
I sense his anger.
"What is it?"
"If you must know..."
"I must!"
"You really are a fool, you know that, right?" I glance behind me again, sensing The Cloak just inches away.
"Explain yourself!"
"It's my dream, is it not?" I bring my voice down. "And you told me exactly how to work this place."
"What do you mean by that?"
I take in the Cloak, and I close my eyes, imagining the scene barren, lifeless. I open my eyes and it is gone.
"I mean that you've made a big mistake, Dreamlord. You are not the only one in control here."
"Impossible!" He growls, coming forward, but I close my eyes again, bringing the shovel back into my hands. I envision the space next to the throne, and I imagine Lucas, standing right there. I open my eyes and there he is.
"No! Stop this at once!"
I envision a million daggers, all flying towards the hooded figure. They encircle him, evil, sharp, and menacing.
"Ready to set us free quite yet?"
"You, you…" He shakes with rage. "You are no fun, Ness! I will get my revenge. I will come for you! I'm gonna get you BACK for this!"
"That's what you said earlier," I say. "But know this, Dreamlord. Whoever you are, I will keep Lucas safe from you. You won't be able to hurt him again."
"Then you will die!"
"I don't think so," I laugh. "Release us, or I may just put you in a pit of lions… and I'm guessing if you die in here, you die in the real world as well. Or do you want to find out?"
"Grah — just get the hell out of here!"
And all at once, the room begins to crumble. The Dreamlord dissolves into mist. Lucas dashes forward, grabbing my hand, and the throne cracks down the middle. White pieces fall, blemishless and divine, fading away into nothing. Then, the floor disappears from beneath our feet, and we plummet into the light.
I open my eyes on Toon Link's floor.
Thud.
The egg drops from my hands. Lucas sits up abruptly from his bed, and Villager opens a sleepy eye.
It seems that no time has passed at all.
"Ness!" Lucas jumps out of bed, and he grabs me, pulling me into a hug.
"Lucas?" I breathe heavily, my mind flooding with relief. He's warm. I missed that.
"You did it, you got us out!"
"No, we did it," I say. "You kept me sane in that place."
Villager grumbles something incoherent, his head falling back onto the pillow. Lucas hugs me tight, and I hold him close. I cannot even bear to let him go.
"How do we share dreams?" Lucas asks quietly. "How do these things keep happening? It's impossible."
"I've been wondering…"
"Wondering what?"
"Ryu's ideas of magic. Everything's been insane. It may sound like lunacy, but what if magic is real?"
Lucas thinks for a moment, running a hand through his hair.
"You know, that would make sense. Those books I got you for Christmas, we should read them. To see if dream-sharing is mentioned."
"We should!"
"And who is the Dreamlord?" Lucas presses. "They seemed to be a man, right?"
"I have no idea. But we've other matters to deal with first."
"Huh?"
My stomach growls. "It's been nearly ten hours since I've eaten. Would you stand to get some food?"