Game Over  •  Act 4

The once-sweet metropolis of Gladglub was a warzone nightmare.

Grumbling thunderheads swirled above, and harsh winds howled through the city. Spark’s little flame of courage almost went out at the sight of the burned-out buildings and cratered streets. Tubby vehicles littered the scene, upturned and smoldering. Cowering frog-people screamed at the sight of her and fled, and those too injured or too weak to run pleaded for their lives. Every frightened glance and cry physically hurt Spark, like thorns jabbing into her intestines.

She couldn’t stop to try and placate the denizens, however. She hurtled toward the city center, where a familiar figure stood on a rooftop, gloating over the view. Spark summoned all her bravado and chucked a firebomb toward her duplicate. Her aim sailed wide, but the shade jumped and whipped toward her.

“Time for lights out, Evil Spark!” Spark said, alighting on the rooftop and advancing toward her copy. The wind dragged at her long pony tail, sweeping it behind her like a banner. “I know what you are. And you’re toast.”

The shade planted her hands on her hips in a sassy pose Spark had so frequently taken herself. “‘Evil Spark?’” the shade jeered. “That’s so lame! How about…Ignite?” Her hands lit up with arcing flashes of electricity and fire.

“Ignite?”

“Yep! That’s my superhero alias. Like it?”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense! You’re supposed to be trying to be me!” Spark said.

Ignite let out a sputtering, flabbergasted laugh. “What? Why would I want to be mistaken for you?” She zipped around the rooftop, landed beside Spark, and squashed her in a one-armed hug like an old buddy. “I mean, just look at what you’ve done to this poor city,” Ignite pouted. “How could you be so brutal?”

“Bu—I didn’t do this! YOU did!” Spark snapped, trying to shove herself out of Ignite’s hold.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Ignite said, feigning realization. Then she grinned, gesturing down to the city below. “But they don’t know that. Hahahahaha!”

Spark tore away from her with a snarl and pelted her with a barrage of firebombs, but they were hardly more than fizzles. Ignite hopped out of the way and pitched a blast of her own. The explosion slammed Spark against a wall on the opposite side of the street. She fell straight down, barely catching herself in time to land safely on her feet, where she had to brace her weight on her knees to try and catch her breath.

Two frog-people who had taken shelter behind an overturned flower cart wailed and ran. Spark grimaced as pain raked through her insides. She forced herself upright, only to stagger again as Ignite floated down before her.

“Not much longer, now,” Ignite said. She tapped Spark between the eyes, and Spark felt a new patch of disintegrating blackness bloom from the spot, radiating out across her face. Ignite’s unblinking eyes gleamed.

“Looks like your little spark’s about to go out.”

Vahaadi’s heart raced as he heard the clanging and scraping of Chronos’s armored form crashing down into the inescapable pit, but his eyes never left Mr. Sabo’s face. Sabo leered at him as he flicked golden blood off his knife.

“Well, look who’s making airs about having a change of heart,” Mr. Sabo laughed, but there was no amusement in his demeanor. He used the head of his cane to lift the lamp from the ground, careful not to touch it. “What’s the matter, Thrall? Didn’t think I’d come through?”

“You didn’t come through,” Vahaadi spat. “I’ve had to watch her waste away for days. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I agreed to, and you know it.”

“Oh, you wanted something quick and painless? I don’t recall you ever specifying.” Sabo swaggered toward Vahaadi. The lamp rattled on the head of his cane. “Really, I’d have thought a little suffering would have pleased you.”

“Let me save her. Let me stop this. Then, whatever you ask—”

“You really don’t learn, do you?” Sabo said. Vahaadi was dismayed when the large man clapped a heavy, menacing hand on his incorporeal shoulder, somehow reaching through to the void of the aetherealm, where Vahaadi had no power to retaliate. Sabo leaned into Vahaadi’s face and spoke slowly, relishing. “You, of all people, should know better than to make deals when you’re in no position to bargain. I’ve already won.”

His grip tightened painfully on Vahaadi’s shoulder.

“But don’t worry. You may find I’m a very merciful master. In fact, I’m going to indulge you. I’ll let you see her one last time…” Mr. Sabo’s voice intensified to a snarl, and he shoved Vahaadi’s shoulder, throwing him to the ground. “And watch her die!”

With a deft motion, he tossed the lamp from the cane to his hand, and Vahaadi’s form jumped to the physical plane. Vahaadi had no sooner drawn a startled breath when Mr. Sabo hurled the lamp up and swung his cane at it.

Vahaadi’s collar jerked so hard that he felt his neck snap. Stars exploded in his vision as his nerves severed in his spinal cord. But his contract repaired the damage before he even stopped moving, and he jolted back into awareness to find that his surroundings had changed. His lamp rocketed over a tall building in Gladglub, dragging Vahaadi with it across the roof. It skittered to the edge and fell, and Vahaadi plummeted after it, but he managed to catch a jutting pole. He swung himself up onto it. Shaky gasps racked his body as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The lamp ricocheted and spun to a rest on the cobbled street two stories below.

The sound of an explosion caught Vahaadi’s attention, and his eyes darted to find Spark hovering in midair, aiming a fireball into the square beneath her. He looked to see her target, and nearly fell from his perch at the sight.

There were two Sparks firing shots at each other: one in the air, and the other on the ground, looking exhausted and badly charred. What in the world was going on?

That one, try killing that one! he willed himself in a hasty gamble.

He vaulted from the post and used his magic to blink as far out as his lamp would allow. Still another ten yards short and in midair, he conjured and chucked a dagger at the levitating Spark. His body obeyed the impulse, without interference from his contract.

Throwing had never been a mastery of his, and the blade was torn away by the wind without coming close. Still, that he could levy an attack at the Spark look-alike at all was enough to identify her as a fake. She wheeled on him in surprise as he landed hard on the ground.

“Vahaadi?” said the two Sparks at once. They both looked shocked.

“What are you?” Vahaadi demanded, staring up at the duplicate.

“Your best friend, remember? Before you tried to get me killed!” The duplicate’s voice broke into an inhuman shriek as she unleashed a firebomb at him.

The other Spark ran and dove in the way, crossing her arms to shield her face from the blow. There was no question then—only the real Spark would throw herself into danger to protect someone like him. The dismay hurt more than the impact of her full weight as the blast flung her back into him. He barely managed to catch her as she crumpled, her powers snuffed out.

“Spark!” Vahaadi gasped, staring at the black patches swallowing the girl’s face. Even her eyes were black.

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it,” Krissy sobbed.

Vahaadi swept his hand, conjuring his carpet beneath them both. He aimed it toward one of the bombed-out storefronts within reach of his lamp and drove them inside for cover.

“Spark, what’s going on? What is that thing?” he said, cradling her against him.

“H-her name’s Ignite, but she’s turning into me,” Krissy whimpered weakly, trying to push herself out of his arms. He didn’t fight her. “I’m dying, Vahaadi. You win. I’m dead. I’m dead. I can’t do it.”

“You’re not going to die. You can’t die. I need you.” Vahaadi sounded as frantic as she did.

“What?” Krissy asked, her black-blotched eyes scanning his.

Vahaadi let out a rueful sigh. Too ashamed to look at her, he dropped his gaze. “I…I wanted to know…if Stunbeam ever forgave PurpleX.”

Krissy’s brow furrowed in wonder, but, just then, the shop exploded into an inferno of shrapnel. Ignite emerged through the flames. Her face split into a malevolent grin.

“Time’s up for hide and seek!” Ignite sang. “And look at that, I’ve already found you. I guess that makes you it!”

A ghostly tendril shot from her hand and lashed into Krissy’s chest, dragging her from beneath the counter where she and Vahaadi had taken refuge. Krissy went limp, and the blackness bled over every remaining patch of skin, and even over her clothes and hair. Vapor poured from her mouth and eyes, and her entire figure began to crumble in large chunks of cinders that pulled along the current toward Ignite.

Vahaadi swore in horror. He skidded to Spark and threw his arms around her, as if his embrace would keep her in one piece. Ignite laughed cruelly.

“Aw, come on, Vahaadi! Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Vahaadi reached out and grabbed at the tendril. A fiery pain shot through him as he tried to close his hand around the spectral thread. He flinched away, but set his jaw and tried again, grappling the tendril and twisting it around his hand to secure it. He pulled with all his might.

Ignite’s laughter shifted to a scream of anger.

“Let go!” she railed, pulling counter to him. The tendril tightened around his hand, drawing blood where it cut right into his flesh.

“Come on, Spark, come on!” Vahaadi gasped through gritted teeth. “Please, Spark. I have to know!”

Krissy drew a slow, rasping breath. Her hand drifted up toward the thread and rested around Vahaadi’s. Her fingers curled around his. Her grip tightened.

And she pulled.

Ignite howled as the cord snapped in a blast of light that threw her out into the street. She collided with a lamppost with such force that the sidewalk cracked beneath it.

The connection was broken. The cinders of Krissy’s disintegrating body flurried back into her, reforming into flesh. Krissy stood, swaying unsteadily as she watched the shroud slough away, felt it withdraw from her tortured mind. Its retreat left a bone-deep weariness, but her will to fight sparked back to life. She began to laugh, her voice breathy and slightly delirious, but determined.

“Oh, you are so going down, Ignoramus!” she said, and she punched her fist into her open palm. Her superpowers lit up like a sputtering firecracker.

Ignite gave an animal snarl and pushed herself up. Though she still resembled Spark, her physical form wavered and shifted now, and black ashes flittered from the edges of her body.  “It’s Ignite!” she spat, and she launched herself at Spark.

“Oh, sorry, what’s that? I’m ignoring you!” Spark said as she darted out of Ignite’s path and charged out into the square. Vahaadi followed at a run.

“Spark, get the lamp!” Vahaadi called to her. Spark doubled back, swiped the lamp from the cobblestones, then grabbed Vahaadi’s hand and raced up the street.

“What’s the plan?” Vahaadi asked. “Back to the arcade?”

Spark shook her head. “No, the apocrypha’s gone!” she puffed through her ragged breathing. “Besides, I don’t think she counts as a distortion anymore! Elweyn brought her back to the library thinking she was me, so she might be reconciled or whatever they call it!”

Ignite skirted into view ahead of them, her fists ablaze. Spark and Vahaadi slid to a stop.

“Going somewhere?” Ignite hissed. Her flames popped.

On instinct, Spark and Vahaadi split. Spark charged to the right, and Vahaadi ran to the left, subliming to smoke as he went. Ignite slung explosives after each of them, then focused her attention on Spark when Vahaadi vanished. He reappeared at her side an instant later, mid-swing. Ignite leaped into the air to dodge his scimitar. Before she could retaliate, Spark gave a roar and unleashed an explosive at her. Vahaadi jolted to the aetherealm to avoid the blast, which hurtled Ignite down the street and into the collapsed remains of an antique shop.

Spark growled through her teeth and lunged after her, and Vahaadi pursued.

Ignite shook splinters and dust out of her hair, looking around in an expression of panic. Her copy of Flicker glimmered on her finger. An old book tottered on the broken shelf above her, glittering with a strange orange light.

“Ack, Vahaadi, she’s going to loretread!” Spark yelped.

Vahaadi teleported to try to close the distance in time, but it was too late. Ignite elbowed the display case and the book flumped over the ledge and onto the floor nearby. She lurched toward it, and, with a flash of brilliant orange light, she was gone.

Vahaadi snatched up the book, but had no idea what to do with it. He rifled through its pages, then turned to look at Spark, only to find that she had dropped from the sky. He rushed to her side and caught before her legs gave out beneath her. Her powers extinguished.

“C-c’mon Vahaadi, we gotta stop her!” she rasped.

Vahaadi held her.

“No, Spark. You’re too weak,” he said. “We’ll have to let the other loretreaders deal with this.” To himself, he muttered venomously, “Mr. Sabo knew this would be too much for you.”

Krissy slumped into his arms, a vague smile appearing on her face. “Naaaaaah,” she drawled. “Nothing’s too much for me.”

Vahaadi tsked, but she just looked blearily up at him with that same dazed smile. “…’cause I have you,” she said.

The frustration faded from Vahaadi’s face, his shoulders drooping.

“Oh, Spark.”

He lowered himself to the ground, easing Krissy down with him as her strength all but melted. He didn’t know what to do, how to help—he’d only ever excelled at inflicting injuries, not tending them.

“He did, you know,” Krissy murmured.

“Hm?”

“Forgive her. Stunbeam. PurpleX.”

“Ah. That is…a relief to hear.”

Krissy held up her hand, inviting their signature “high-five.” Vahaadi moved to meet her hand with his, but hesitated. He extended his pinky toward her instead, mimicking the gesture he’d seen her offer to Anthem. Krissy giggled, languid, and interlocked their little fingers. Too fatigued to pull away, she left her hand coiled in his as her arm wilted. Vahaadi stroked her hand with his thumb, weighing his next words.

“After you’ve had some time to rest, I have a story to tell you,” he said. “It’s about a very brave girl…and a very stupid djinni.”

“I think I know this one.”

“I’m not sure you do, actually. There were some parts you…missed.”

“Like deleted scenes?” Krissy’s eyes sparkled, over-bright in her exhaustion. “Are you gonna give me the director’s cut edition?”

“Something like that.”

“Can I do the sound effects?”

Vahaadi’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Krissy cooed in satisfaction, then fainted dead away, her head lolling against Vahaadi’s chest. He swallowed.

“Sabo, I know you’re watching,” Vahaadi growled to the air. “The deal is off, do you hear? If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”

A grumble of thunder punctuated his words.

He felt Mr. Sabo’s presence before he saw him. Vahaadi lay Krissy down and rose to face the man who stood several paces away, an intimidating shadow in the gloom. The wind rippled his half cape. He wore his usual grin, but it was more predatory now than ever.

“Is this little girl really worth your freedom, Vahaadi?”

Vahaadi’s neck prickled at the sound of his name. He clenched his fists.

“You don’t have the power to free me,” Vahaadi said. “No one does. You just wanted to trick me.”

“Bah! That’s your excuse? You would throw away your only chance for freedom for the hope that I’m lying to you? And for what? A stupid child that treats you like some kind of pet!? Stop this foolishness and I will uphold my bargain! Once I have what I need, I’ll have no further need of you, and I will release you from your curse!”

“You wouldn’t be the first to lie to me, Mr. Sabo.” Vahaadi’s sword appeared in his hand. “Come one step closer and I will end you.”

Sabo snorted, spreading his arms wide. “Think of what you’re risking if you’re wrong!”

“It isn’t worth the risk if I’m right. You’re as much a fraud as that duplicate!”

Mr. Sabo threw his head back and laughed. Vahaadi’s skin crawled. Sabo’s laughter had two voices: one, much like his speaking voice, was booming, harsh, and greasy; but the other was a high, feminine titter. The two wove together in a grating cacophony that bounced around on the buildings and sent sensations of revulsion into Vahaadi’s stomach. On and on Sabo laughed, and Vahaadi’s revulsion began to twist into rage.

“Stop it!”

He lunged at Mr. Sabo, swinging his blade around with all his strength. Mr. Sabo made no attempt to engage him, and Vahaadi closed the distance between the two of them in a breath. His blade connected with Mr. Sabo’s neck and swiftly, brutally, relieved him of his head.

The laughter did not stop.

The head clattered to the ground and rolled, but the body swung wildly in the air, suspended from the joints by strings. Vahaadi had managed to sever a few with his swipe, leaving half of Mr. Sabo’s body upright while the other half dangled like a wooden doll. Vahaadi leaped back, following the arcing path of the hanging corpse with a look of horror.

“A puppet?!”

“Not so unlike yourself, Thrall,” said a soft voice.

Vahaadi whipped around.

A tall woman stood holding Krissy draped limply across her arms. The woman had hard, glossy skin as pale as the moon. Gaily colored silks and ruffles adorned her person. Her expression was frozen in a serene smile: full lips puckered into a benign pout, one eye squinted closed with mirth. Her other eye was missing, along with a large chunk of her face—in its place was a large jagged crack, which opened onto gaping darkness.

“Put her down,” Vahaadi said slowly. His words were both a plea and a threat.

“I will not hurt her,” said the woman in a light, eerie voice. “Despite what you may think, I am not your enemy.”

“Who are you, then?”

“If all of existence is merely a story, I am just another character. Though I do not write the story, I know its course, and guide my fellow players along. You might say I play the role of a Narrator.” She dipped into a jerky bow. “You may call me Toymaker.”

Vahaadi narrowed his eyes at her, but waited for her to continue.

“The distortion has caused many stories to change course, to intertwine, and some, even, to end prematurely. Your release, Thrall, was one such…alteration.”

“Alteration?”

“The fate you sealed with your own hand changed, Vahaadi. Yours, and many others.”

“My fate?” Grim understanding flashed in Vahaadi’s eyes. “You—you were trying to set my ‘story’ straight by getting me sent back to the pit,” he said. Anger edged his voice. “You wanted me to betray the loretreaders so that they would imprison me again. You used Sabo to provoke me!”

“To some extent, that is correct.”

“To some extent?! Why, then? Why this masquerade?” He gestured toward the wilted Mr. Sabo. “Why didn’t you return me from the start?!”

“It is not my charge to enforce nor defy consequences, only to provide choices. You might have spent eternity in the oblivion of that pit. But coincidence provided you a second chance. As a protector of the Path, I was sent to test if you deserved it.” She approached Vahaadi, still cradling Spark. “I’m pleased to say: you passed. Not even the promise of freedom was enough to completely turn you to your old ways.”

She held Krissy out to Vahaadi. He took her into his arms, but he still stared at Toymaker.

“What happens now?” Vahaadi asked.

“Well, that is up to you, isn’t it?”

“I’m a slave,” he said bitterly. “What I do is never up to me.”

“That’s where you are so very wrong. You did not have to trust Mr. Sabo. More importantly, you did not have to choose to save this girl.”

“And for that I will never be free.”

Toymaker held up her hand, and the key to Vahaadi’s shackle materialized between her slim fingers. With a snap of her wrist, the key transformed into a playing card.

“Even the right choices have consequences.” Toymaker tilted her head, and though her expression didn’t change, her manner seemed both sorrowful and inquisitive. “Do you regret your decision?”

“No.” Vahaadi looked down at Krissy. “No,” he repeated, more softly. “Only that I didn’t make it much, much sooner.”

“What is done is done, and while I don’t laud your hesitations, your Path has been long and harrowing. No one changes in an instant. But everyone can change, Vahaadi. Remember that.” Her blank smile looked shadowed. “For good, and for ill.”

Vahaadi nodded, mute. He sensed that something distant had overtaken the strange being’s thoughts, but he didn’t dare ask.

She returned to herself, giving a minute shake of her head that made her curious garb rustle and tinkle.

“I must go. There are a great many other calamities this distortion has wrought, and while I must rely on the loretreaders to attend to the physical upheavals, the burden rests with me and the other Narrators to address the new stories. Take heart; she will be fine,” Toymaker said, gesturing to Krissy and answering Vahaadi’s question before he could ask it. “She will not be unscarred by this, but, with time to rest, she’ll be ready to fight again. I trust you will be at her side to fight with her.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Good,” Toymaker said. She gave a delicate chuckle. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a rather cross eidolon to retrieve from a certain inescapable pit.”

“Chronos.” Vahaadi blinked. “He survived that?”

“It takes more than a shank in the neck and a long fall to kill an eidolon, especially an exalted one, trust me,” Toymaker said, but her voice, to Vahaadi’s alarm, was Mr. Sabo’s.

“Ah. That’s good to hear, I suppose,” Vahaadi said, unsettled.

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Toymaker tittered in her normal voice—as normal as a voice could be, coming from an animated porcelain doll. Her impish demeanor warmed, and she lay a gentle hand alongside Vahaadi’s face.

“I am so proud of you, Vahaadi,” she whispered.

Vahaadi’s brow knit. His throat felt tight, and he didn’t know why. He was both sorry and relieved when Toymaker’s otherworldly gaze shifted from his face to Krissy’s.

“Farewell to you, young one,” Toymaker said, stooping to stroke the bangs back from Krissy’s forehead. “I will torment your dreams no more. It appears you were right to dismiss my warnings, after all.”

She straightened and turned, then hesitated. She pivoted back toward Vahaadi and held out the playing card in her fingers. “I feel you should have this,” she said thoughtfully. As Vahaadi’s arms were full under Krissy’s weight, she slid the card into his breast pocket. “When you are ready, you will understand.”

She took a last, long look at Krissy, and then at him. “Take care of her, Vahaadi. A corrupting evil brought you two together, but, if you choose, together you may be a beacon of light.”

Toymaker curtsied, and then she and the puppet of Mr. Sabo were gone.

Vahaadi let out a slow breath and sank to the street, adjusting Krissy more comfortably across his lap. There would be time to tell this whole strange story to her when she woke. But for now, he could only hold her, close and safe.

And, for the moment, that was everything he could have wished for.