Singillatim

January 1st, 2017

Did you remember the power you could summon?
It flowed through the wires, a ghost in the machine.
A Trojan horse; our glory, our servant, our doom.
Where were you when the lights went out?
How far will you go to survive?
— Raphael van Lierop.

Another year draws to a close. With the lack of daylight, or ways of telling them date, let alone the time, Interlopers across the Northern Territories turn in for the night. They curl up beneath blankets or by firesides; whisper to sleeping companions or simply lie in the silence to listen to the wind blow. Some stay up late, keeping vigil on the world outside and the many dangers nature and other forces bring.

A new year comes, the third turning of the year since they first began arriving in this Quiet Apocalypse. All is calm, and quiet. One year slips into history, another steps into the present — looks to the uncertain future.

After all, you remember, much has told you, insisted: this is the ending of all things.

Sleep comes to all, and soon enough a dream comes to. From out of the heavy, peaceful dark: sharp images form. Disjointed, nothing more than mere seconds before the record skips — but you pick out some images:

a flash of bright green light, a shadow looms — a girl before a burning house, chaos, a woman screams: what did you do?! — a dead baby bird, half-frozen, fallen from the nest, hands reaching — the sting of a slap against the cheek, a split lip, a black eye — a fork in the road, a street sign: south is Silverpoint, you turn away — hunger that makes your stomach burn — never again, never again — the sky squeezes itself like a muscle, grasping — flames flickering at your fingertips — the blink of a light on the horizon, in the distance, the churning of machinery — a chorus of screams, agony and sorrow — never again, never again — a knife, carving into an open palm, the blood hot and slick — a thunderous boom, and you feel to earth shake around you —

Silence: this is the ending of all things.

The world snaps into view: Enola kneels in the snow in the midst of a burnt and dead wood. The Aurora shivers in the sky above you. She is pale and exhausted, her hands and furs are stained with blood and although she smiles at you warmly — there’s a weighted look in her eyes.

“We don’t have much time. I can’t do this much longer.” she tells you gently. “It’s coming. I thought— I thought I was keeping it under control.”

The air quivers around you, the ground trembles below your feet.

She holds out her arms, her hands open palms to the skies. Slowly, tendrils of colour drift from the skies downwards and softly spill into each of her palms. They pool there, amongst the blood, swirling softly and glowing—

There’s another thunderous boom in the background, and Enola’s breath shifts — tense, agitated.

One glows pale blue, the other glows pale yellow: “Choose one, if you wish, or if you can.”

Picking the blue light will give the Feat of Cold Fusion, picking the pale yellow light will give the Feat of Efficient Machine. Enola will give you a few moments to choose. If you do not or cannot choose, the lights will dissipate. Her hands drop to her sides and her eyes close for a long moment.

“It’s coming for you.” she warns you. “I can hold back the worst of it. The Darkwalker has been waiting, the solstice has only just come but it doesn’t intend for the light to return.”

Somewhere, in the near-distance, a monstrous sound: low and long and ancient.

She reaches forward in the snow, with the blood on her palms she begins to etch a shape into it: a rune.

“Use this, when the time comes. It will help keep it at bay.” he stares down at the rune in the snow before her gaze moves up to meet yours. “You have power, never forget that.”

Another boom, closer now. Enola turns her head back to look. The ground below you trembles harder, the shaking grows too much and you find yourself trying to catch your balance.

The Aurora above you goes dark, Enola’s head snaps upwards — darkness washes over the pale grey, an impossible void. She gets to her feet, unsteady but ready.

“Go. Now. Run.”

It is too late. This is the ending of all things.

The ground cracks and splits in two, sending you both tumbling into the dark, open expanse of earth. You see Enola for a moment, but then she is lost and you are alone, falling through the dark. And as you fall, you realise you are not alone: a breath rattles through the air, a wicked laugh.

There is the slow churning sound of bones and scattering of earth. Out of the darkness appears the violent green of three glowing wolf skulls, impossibly enormous and rising and rising and rising — growing huge and no matter how much you fall it is still there, watching you.

The Darkwalker. The wolf skulls snarl, their jaws pulling into terrible grins. The center of its skulls opens its maw, dripping emerald mucus. It twists and circles you, like a beast circling prey. You feel like a bird trapped, a goldfish in the bowl.

A gigantic skeletal claw rips emerges from the darkness, makes a grab for you.

If the Darkwalker manages to catch you, it may leave a twisted gift behind: the Darkwalker’s Revenge. If you manage to escape it, you’ll be spared from it. There is a deafening sound, like something splitting open. And then you fall and fall and fall and fall—

When you awake, it may be with a shudder, a cry, a scream. The world around shudders, like some kind of lingering aftermath of the dream — only it’s real. You are disturbed, and you will find your surroundings in disarray. Something has happened. You wonder if it might be another quake. The sky is calm outside, but there’s an eeriness that hangs in the air.

Interlopers who were caught by the Darkwalker will feel sick to their stomach, exhausted. Perhaps even feverish. They will not be able to rise from their bed, spending an entire day sick with some unknown illness. By the evening of the second day, they will begin to improve and feel… stronger, somehow. Revitalised. The night is long and bitter, but they are not afraid of the dark. But do they understand the price?

Interlopers who chose the pale yellow light will feel content, like one does after a large meal. That pleasant kind of sleepiness that comes with it. They do not realise that this day will be the last time they ever feel this kind of satiated. There’s something within them that understands: they are blessed, perhaps by Mother Nature herself.

Interloper who chose the blue light will feel that despite the temperature, they are completely cosy and warm. They do not feel the slightest chill. It is perhaps only once they are around others that they truly notice the difference — they are cold to the touch, lacking the heat they once had. An understanding comes: they are at one with the cold, it will not beat them, it will not cause them agony. Winter is at peace within them.

It is a new year, and this is the ending of all things. The world is different, more open. You'll understand how in time.

You are now much closer to the end.