Descent

[ >Past Ross: Recap for us, wouldn't you? ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6R8GCX_wSs ]

[ You hate the Underworld. Just. Fucking can't stand it. It alternates between soul-achingly repetitive, terrifying, and just plain /eerie/. ]

[ Therefore, there is only one solution: strive to finish this particular game sequence as fast as possible. ]

[ And who better to help with that process, than your future self who's already done this before? You're not too proud to take your own advice. ]
[ And why alone? Well. *You* know you'll be just fine. This way, no one else is at risk. ]

[ Like Ockzel asked, you're heading for the...well, you /think/ it's the nearest exit. The Second Iron Law prohibits music in the Underworld, lest it attract the attention of the Host. So you cannot summon your golden horn to play Clockwork Contrivance, and check. ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JA5rc4M-YrA ]

[ So you walk. And you keep walking. You're not sure how long it's been; the little part of you that ticks off the seconds and minutes and hours has fallen silent. There is no day, no night, and no sleep, here. There cannot be, when the Angelic Host still swarm about the Heart. ]

[ > Ross: Squint up at the Heart of the Land. ]

[ Little blurry gray spots, silhouetted against the thrumming, pulsing, Heart of your Land. But not too many, and not much longer. Hopefully. If you can find the last ruin. ]

[ There's something in the distance. A difference in the way the visual distortions of Snow Pollen shimmer. ]

[ A ruin. And not one you've Desecrated before, there's no Heart-and-Gear etched in stone or doorframe to mark it as already explored. ]

[ > Ross: Enter ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-1SsMn67m8 ]

[ It is dark inside, but here and there are concentric rings cut into the ceiling, allowing enough wan light to explore by. Your footfalls echo at the wrong time: slightly before, or slightly after, your feet touch stone. ]

[ You follow a path deeper into the temple complex, passing by frescos of hooded Players with scratched-out eyes, passing by alcoves with stone slabs and gears etched upon, hopping over bone-dry sluiceways and aqueducts that will never carry water. It is against the Law to drink water in the underworld more often than every four hours. ]

[The Question of Self]

[ An open-air courtyard, the light of the false sun shining down like late afternoon, were it not for the silver sheen to the light. ]

[ Three mystic urns stand on three black stone shelves, projecting from the opposite wall. Each, like a canopic jar, is topped with a head and partial bust. Each bears Ross's face: one young, long-haired, and hatless; one with signature cap, the beginning of lines around his eyes, and shoulders showing the detail work of the very longcoat he was wearing; and one with hood pulled low over his eyes, and only a few wisps of greying hair showing. Past, present, and future. ]

[ > Ross: Consult the time-traveller's favorite friend: your notebook. ]

[ A line in silver pen, in your own handwriting, pricks at your intution. ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M72X-mXd-kA ]

[ 'Proceeding ever-towards the future, we must inevitably destroy our pasts. How else is one to escape the grim specter of regret and despair? How can we become who we are meant to be, how can we realize our true potential, if we are mired in who and what we used to be, what we once were?' ]

[ Well. That's straightforward enough. You retrieve your pipe of choice: The Piezoelectric Pipette, hewn of solid quartz and thrumming with the resonant frequencies of the Beat. ]

[ > Ross: Bring it smashing down. ]

[ Everything is wrong. ]

[ Everything is wrong! The sky goes black and red and the *thump* *thump* *thump* of the Heart of the Land of Sand and Caverns thunders in your head and the walls bleed blood no eyes no no eyes with which to see every soul that can peer must be blinded————

[ Everything is fine. The Law remains unbroken. ]

[ > Ross: Peer up at the Heart. ]

[ A few more of the silver-winged Host are missing. Good. The way is clear. Let's proceed to the next room, shall we? ]


[The Hall Of Sleep]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srJYQESO34g ]

[ Beds pack the room, a vast and low-ceilinged space that stretches out into the darkness, the opposite wall hidden in gloom. What should be singular objects of raised prominence are jammed together in an ugly fashion. Like a sprawl of discarded bricks, the stone slabs are shoved tightly against each other at uneven and random angles. ]

[ > Ross: Carefully navigate the snarl of beds. ]

[ Sleep is not merely forbidden in the Underworld; it is impossible. ]

[ It would not be good to touch the beds. ]

[ > Ross: *Very* carefully navigate the snarl of beds. ]

[ There are mosaics on the wall, bordered by the ever-changing glyphs of the underworld that spell out cryptic messages your future self will have already deciphered. Figures of Players are asleep, underwater or deep underground. The eyes are scratched out. There are no entrances and no exits. ]

[ > Ross: Reach for your notebook ]

[ As you do so, something catches your eye. Each stone is marked with your ideograil -- Time, that is, not Heart -- but each iteration of the symbol is...different. A little malformed. Or melted. With edges burnt away.

[ In the distance, however, one bed has... something different yet again.

[ > Ross: Carefully approach the marked bed. ]

[ > In rust-red dust, imposed over the carving of a gear with holes meled through, is a perfect outline of the true symbol of the Hero of Time. ]

[ > Ross: Peer under the marked bed. ]

[ A secret door. ]

[ > Ross: Descend. ]

[The Cloister]

[ An open air courtyard, with sparse rows of bone-white columns that point up into empty air. Some are broken partway up, or completely toppled over. There is a portico around the edges of this space, more columns holding up a roof ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctqDMg7l9Qo ]

[ And there is an angel. ]

[ There is an angel, twice Ross's height and shimmering pearlescent with holy awe and dread and creaking with horrible static whalesong. It skims low over the ground, rippling up and down to follow the little humps and hills of the terrain. ]

[ Back and forth, it glides, over the grass and stone. It's pacing, waiting. Searching. ]

oh fuck

oh fuck

oh fuck

[ Ross presses himself against the back of the column. He's exhausted, he doesn't want to, *can't* fight, that /thing/ shouldn't be here——whyisit*here*—— ]

[ He doesn't have any choices. ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJHABPMb7Uw ]

[ Before his eyes, the exit is closing up, bricks of the stone archway are extending. Solid marble grows inward to fill an empty space as if a living thing, reaches out to fill the aching void. There will be no returning to the hallway, no climbing up the short ladder that leads to the safety and refuge of the Bed Room. ]

[ Ross Eberhardt doesn't get any choices. ]

[ The only way out is through. ]

[ So he grips his weapon tightly, steadies his breathing, and tries to recall. Skye did this, Ross. If your sister can, so can you. ]

[ Ross does not wait long to strike. He rounds the column to see himself appear from mid-air dropping out of the sky to fall upon the angel. ]

[ Initiative won, many-against-one is the Time Hero's favorite tactic. Ross charges, skipping in and out of visibility as he moves in in fast-forward, trusting that as many others of himself as necessary will join in the initial strike. ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Opbrn8FNpI4 ]

[ Striking blows against an angel's gleaming white body sets his crystalline weapon to vibrating, a buzzing, thrumming, tone that cannot nullify the Angel's song, but it is something else to focus on, the battle-rhythm of the Beat instead of the static scream of anger. ]

[ Two, four, of Ross pin the shining Host down with staff-length pipes and hooked ends, a fifth batters at its back and wings, slamming crystal into flesh. His arms are pistons powered by terror. Tears begin to collect on its body, like dew coalescing. ]

[ Angels have tails. It lashes out, curling and throwing the trappers away, searing a trail down Ross's face and body that ʙᴜʀɴs, burns like music and sacrifice and the physical ache of separation and then blessed, blessed, numbness. ]

[ The collective Eberhardt circle around it, the angel's form blurring with heat haze, as if the silvered ᴛᴇᴀʀs it dripped were evidence it was melting. ]

[ If only. ]

[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M72X-mXd-kA ]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ sɪɴɢs ғᴜʀʏ

[ White fire limns its winged form, and it flickers forward into the mass of mages, striking out with tail and wings. Ross screams and claws at his eyes. Ross clutches at burning limbs. The chime of crystal echoes in the courtyard as weapons fall from insensate hands. ]

[ Ross stands atop a pillar. He is, he has decided, Doomed. But one last strike, to buy himself some time, and a rewind backwards to Alpha, to warn himself away... ]

[ It will be worth it. ]

[ With a whisper-quiet rustle of bells, Ross appears beside himself. He's wearing white hooded robes, with long, triangular sleeves. An unfamiliar weapon is in his hand. ]

[ "We're far from doom, Ross. Miles and miles, years and years from death and sleep and rest." ]

[ You don't remember this conversation. ]

[ Ross offers himself a weapon, a length of metal etched with fine silver filigree and warm to the touch. "Use this to slay the Virtue, Ross. I'll support you from here." ]

[ The white-robed one throws out his arms, and Ross, trusting his future self, vaults off the pillar. ]

[ Time warps, speeding Ross downward in perfect striking position. Time slows, the battlefield below becoming a diorama, ticking forward as if struggling through gelatin. ]

[ Ross Eberhardt plummets onto the back of the angel, piercing straight through its neck with the leaden pipe etched with silver feathers. It shrieks a final time, in its death the note transforming into a paean of unearthly beauty. Beneath him, the pearlescent form ripples, and dissolves into tears. ]

[ Everything is clear. There is no doubt, no uncertainty, and perfect, shining, understanding chimes through your mind. The others will need to know. Let's go, shall we? ]