The World That Never Was

That went better than expected.

I'm not sure WHAT I expected really, but as I've never entered a portal on the trail of a techno-necro cleric with a panache for downplaying and a Brooklyn accent before.

Jesus Christ, my life is weird.

I knew a bit about this Path of Black Leaves, starting back when a certain Robert Sagel spoke about it, and survived a trip there. Consider it a dimensonal shortcut between places if you will.  You step into it, you have a destination in mind, you walk a considerably shorter distance, you end up there.


Now, before you raise an eyebrow, I assure you this is actually a thing that several people have done in their lives. That's not to say its a /good/ thing to do. Hell, it can easily kill a person due to exposure to...something.

Surprise, surprise, I happen to be a bit more tolerant than most people. That is because I met a most unfortunate end, you see.... Let us take a step back, shall we?




There on that night, I knelt upon the roots of the Bleeding Tree, jamming bones into its eyes, screaming wildly that it has to die here, because I had to do /something/ worthwhile before I died. I sat there, just out of view of those giant head-sized eyes, as it thrummed and vibrated against me...like its own aura was capable of killing.  I had covered myself up to avoid skin to bark contact, to avoid whatever nastiness those root tendrils were hoping for.


And then I had a terrible thought. That if twelve ulnas wouldn't do the job, then perhaps thirteen /would/. I savaged myself with the broken blade of a piece of shit sword in order to fulfill what I considered to be a saving grace.


I had to share my success to the world, as I lay slumped there, dying of blood loss, and shock. I sat there, relived and willing to just...let it all go.


It is a funny feeling to feel so vindicated, so righteous into death. That you could simply ease into that sweet embrace of death, a smile on your face, and the knowledge that you did the right thing.


I didn't quite get that experience. No angels sang me to rest. My last moments were spent watching a giant branch shift and unfurl from the top of the tree, moving downward, bending down much like an arm. And this branch, unlike so many others, was empty.

In my catatonic bliss, I wondered why that could be, before I died.



As I understand it, others had spotted me in the tree later, the Messenger for one, if I recall. Jack herself had seen me, Konaa too, as I understand it.

I suppose in death, I served a warning of caution, of hubris, of reality crashing into damn fool idealistic dreams.


I woke up on the Path, completely disoriented and unable to think, to move. An inordinate amount of time later, I found myself able to move, and a compulsion to walk. Senses muted, my mind foggy, I walked, and walked, and walked.

Have you ever had a fever dream that was so realistic, that it may have well been reality? Picture yourself walking into an endless abyss, and just knowing that there was no hope ahead of you. Cast about the gloomy haze, there was nothing but the occasional corpse to remind you of the others that have gotten just as far as you...and died.


The Path was /my/ fever dream, my punishment. I expected things to go right back how they were, if I were to ever end up there again, that whatever power it had over me, it would exert it again, and I'd face another million years of hopelessness and misery, stuck on a quest that could never end.


So that night, after Twenty-Six left my side, and implied that she had a good amount of answers for me, I froze. For that was the place I could not tread.


And it wasn't a newfound spirit of courage that put me on my feet. It wasn't some drive to find answers, like a noir private eye who had the stuffings knocked out of him.



It was fucking grim acceptance.


I looked around that room, knowing the death on my hands, knowing that there was an investigation, knowing that Paperclip was no doubt involved with the Police by now.

I knew any chance I had at doing this thing 'right', was gone.

There are no rewind buttons on life, even when you manage to get an extra life.


So, Kelevra, This wasn't some angsty self-sacrificing play of mine, to 'finally win', whatever that means.

Thanks for that, by the way. The worst part about it is that you normally would've been right. So fuck you too.

Anyway.

I decided that if that was the fate that awaited me, a million years of endless anguish and despair, then maybe I deserved it. Maybe I deserved every damn punishment I've ever been given, every snide comment, every 'I hope you die' remark, every little ounce of hate.

Maybe I just fucking deserved it all, and that the world would be better off without me.

I entered that Path, having decided that if that was how it was going to go, then maybe I'd just let it roll, and spend the rest of time alone.

Where I couldn't hurt anyone else.