[Mysterious ringing and echoey cracking sounds.]

Narrator M: Unfathomably high in the cosmic reaches, a tiny triangular black sloop winds carefully up a narrow, rough, crystalline shaft, 

Narrator S: a dark spearpoint against the oppressively shining brightness of claustrophobic mica. 

Narrator X: A tenuous tether of liquid-crystal dark mica snakes beneath the sloop, the only thing connecting it to the Ship, far out of sight, far below.

S: They have left the wind-blasted blizzard of the upper void, rising through a crystalline channel of almost shocking stillness and peacefulness. 

M: The shrieking wind and the cracking of mica do echo up the shaft, but distantly. 

S: Here in this passage of light, all is calm. 

X: And that beautiful, hypnotic ringing grows ever louder.

S: Aboard the sloop, we have Merlin– 

M: seeking scientific breakthroughs and new discoveries. 

X: The Granddaughter – seeking Realization, feeling a sense of metaphysical compulsion. 

M: And Cleo –

S: seeking…novel experiences? Fun, maybe? Pride? Who knows. 

X: These three are the most distant, high-altitude people in the entire cosmos, as far as we know.

S: Certainly as far as THEY know. Voices from Control transmit up the winding umbilical, piping from a speaking tube here in the sloop’s interior. Abel Bowie’s voice calls up tinnily, 

X: (Bowie) “Looking good down here. Plenty of spare mass left. The tether can still reach a good distance. Merlin, what are you seeing up there?”

S: Merlin, operating the sloop’s minimal mechanical flight controls to maneuver them up, up, up, relates some science-geology-cosmology observations back to the Ship. 

M: (Merlin) “Mica is looking extremely fresh up here. The faces, at least, are very sharp and smooth, not pitted or worn down like we might see at lower altitudes. It’s also getting increasingly bright,” Merlin says, tapping the opacity control value of the sloop up just a little further, “which seems to imply that the shaft we’re passing through could just be one extremely dense piece of mica on its own.”

S: Cleo and the Granddaughter sit still in their seats, 

X: gazing at the celestial scene passing outside.

M: (Merlin) “I would have expected the storm to be blowing up here as well, to some degree, but, not unlike the oasis, this passage is uniquely calm.” 

S: He taps a bank of dials.

M: (Merlin) “It’s still colder than the thermocubocumeter can read outside, but I think… I think we’re okay. Right now, I’m just trying to keep moving up the shaft with as much lateral clearance as we can manage.”

S: The singing tone is playing through Daggle’s device, nestled now in Cleo’s arms, but it can also be heard – and felt – through the walls of the sloop itself.

X: Wherever this particular tone is coming from, it is directly up THERE, up this crystal shaft. 

S: The passageway is narrowing, narrowing. 

M: Tighter and tighter. Winding directly up, up, into the brilliant, flaring light. 

X: The sloop continues to ascend.

S: Seeing the way Dot is squinting, Cleo offers her pink heart-shaped glasses one more time. 

X: Dot at last accepts them, 

S: much to Cleo’s surprise.

M: It really is horrifically bright, and Cleo seems to have acclimated to it better than Dot has. 

S: Cleo’s baseline of comparison is merely the twilight bioluminescence of Ebonreef, not a pitch-black dead-silent monastery for witches in training.

X: The Granddaughter gazes up, the harsh blue-white radiance slightly warmed and softened by the pink heart glasses. 

S: It’s a good look. All-black cape, hat, and gloves…and the pink heart shades. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Thank you, Cleo. This does help.” 

S: (Cleo) “No problem. So, what do the Mothers believe is up here, Dot? What do YOU believe?”

X: (Granddaughter) “The Mothers don’t really concern themselves with the Upper Un. At least, they have not before now, and I’m not aware of any…theories. Um, what about you?” 

S: (Cleo) “Gosh, I’m not sure! People in the Baronies don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about stuff beyond the Fold either. In the Princess Shiny comics, there’s a palace in the Firmament at the very top of the cosmos. Wouldn’t that be a surprise?” 

X: Cleo is chatting in her usual charming way, but it is starting to take on a slightly nervous quality, as though she needs the patter of mundane conversation to soothe her, to distract her from the overwhelming comprehension of nearing what could very well be the uppermost extremity of the known fucking universe.

S: Mood.

M: Merlin is focused on his instruments with a feverish intensity. (Merlin) “At this rate, I’m not inclined to discount any theory, even Princess Shiny’s palace.”

S: (Cleo) [laughs] “Well, it’s not HER palace – not until later in the series, anyway. I almost brought one of the books with me. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be up here… If you’re interested, Merlin, I’d be happy to lend you one of the books when we get back. But I’m way too excited to read right now. Kind of…jittery. Actually, full-on nervous. Scared, even! What about you two?” 

X: Ooh, this is an interesting question for the Granddaughter. They sit in their chair, eyes lidded, apparently totally tranquil, to the best of anyone here’s knowledge. (Granddaughter) “I am not afraid,” they lie, again. You know how it is now. “A very significant portion of my training has been to…master my emotions, my thoughts. I am at ease.”

S: (Cleo) “Oh, of course you would be. You are so cool! This is so scary, and here you are, cool as a crucrumber. I am so jealous of you right now!”

M: Merlin takes a moment to check in briefly with himself. He’s only been having coffee for the last several days, but feels this powerful…thrill, this excitement, that has just been building for days and days, the closer and higher they get, this new uncharted territory. Well, what he tells Cleo is, (Merlin) “I’m great. Better than great. I just am terrific. I feel fine.”

S: (Cleo) “This must be really exciting for you. I mean, it’s exciting for me, too – it’s exciting for everyone.” 

X: Ah, just three friends exploring the highest known limit of reality, feeling totally fine and totally normal. Ah, gotta love it. 

S: Cleo is bouncing in her seat, jiggling one of her legs with a fidgety energy. 

X: And the Granddaughter is looking up quietly, light glaring off their pink glasses as they fall, well, even more silent than usual – which is saying something – and murmur, (Dot) “What’s that?” 

S: (Cleo) “Huh?” Cleo squints upward. “Oh, it, um, it looks like…” 

M: (Merlin) “It’s an opening,” Merlin says. 

S: Just perhaps a few hundred feet above, the shaft appears to reach an end, a hole, an aperture, into…a clearing? 

X: A tantalizing open space, a large void above.

M: But they can’t really tell from down here. They would have to go up and see. (Merlin) “Fascinating,” 

S: says Merlin, squinting intently at the sight. 

M: (Merlin) “If that is what I think it is, it goes against every trend we’ve been observing so far – the constant constricting of mica, tightening, closing in.” 

X: He leans to the umbilical speaking tube beside him.

M: (Merlin) “We’re getting close to the top of the shaft. It looks like there might be a larger open space up there, bigger than anything we’ve encountered for days. We’re – we’re going to take a look.” 

X: (Rawfield) “Take it slow,”

S: Dr. Rawfield comes back. 

X: (Rawfield) “That level of brightness up there is going to take its toll sooner or later. How are you all doing? Any headaches? Dizziness? Nausea?”

S: Well, to be fair, they – all three of them – are experiencing a slight headache and nausea, to some degree. 

M: (Merlin) “I feel absolutely normal,”

X: Merlin lies, 

M: and he glances intently at the other two passengers. (Merlin) “I believe we’re ALL good to continue, yes?”

S: (Cleo) “Oh, absolutely,” says Cleo.

X: The Granddaughter nods.

S: They continue to ascend. The light around them, especially from the opening right above, is no longer just bright. That word doesn’t really suffice anymore. It’s lost all meaning. 

M: The mica here seems fresher, cleaner, sharper, more luminous, making mica at lower altitudes seem almost dull by comparison. 

X: The little sloop winds higher, higher, and increasingly, through the aperture above, they’re seeing…

M: What the hell?

S: It’s insanely, agonizingly bright. But through the pinhole of the opening, it almost looks like…

M: (Merlin) “Am I…imagining things? Is that…”

[Sudden silence.]

S: Everyone looks at each other in confusion.

X: Whatever was making the sound has stopped making it.

M: A colossal silhouette moves over the aperture above, blocking the blinding light from overhead, casting a pillar of dust-speckled shadow down the crevasse.

[A muffled rhythmic whooshing sound, gradually intensifying.] 

S: (Cleo) “Uh… what is that?” says Cleo, looking upwards towards the shadow above, black bruises blooming across her face and neck. 

M: (Merlin) “I can’t quite make it out,” says Merlin, inky fluid leaking from his eyes.

S: Shanamarian’s voice comes over the speaking tube. 

X: (Shanamarian) “Oh – oh shit, Artifice! Artifice! Somebody, somebody support his head! Get Rawfield! Doctor Ra–”

S: (Cleo) “I feel a little bit funny,” says Cleo, ink-like sweat beading on her cheeks like the stained plasma of a fresh tattoo wound, little droplets lifting from her skin like the wax globs in a lava lamp, rising into the air, evaporating into dark mist, siphoning up toward the silhouetted shape. 

M: (Merlin) “I do too,” says Merlin, gazing upward, a strange expression on his seeping face. 

X: The Granddaughter looks down at their gloved hand to see black droplets oozing out through the material of their clothing, aerosolizing as they rise. (Granddaughter) “Oh no,” they say, their eyes going wide.

[A bad sound.]

M: The thing plummets straight down at them like a skyscraper hurtling into a train tunnel, dive-bombing toward them with merciless, incalculable weight. 

S: Even in his strange delirium, Merlin has just enough presence of mind to slam the control stick down. The sloop goes down fast – very fast, holy shit – but Merlin’s eyes are still on IT, a vast, twisting thing plummeting down the shaft, driving straight at them like a freight train, cracking the shaft wide, tunneling towards them, burrowing through the mica as though it were silt.

M: Wisps of darkness whip from the black crystal surfaces of the sloop, leaving bare white mica spots, like the dry ice of a snow cone drained of syrup.

X: The sloop dives fast, titan shadow closing in, almost upon them, and then, whatever the fuck it is shears sideways into the wall of the mica shaft with a vast seismic splintering of crystal – and disappears, a rain of loose mica fragments and dust showering down, pinging and glancing off the sides of the sloop.

S: Strange silence. Bright light shines again from above. The sloop is still dropping fast. 

M: (Merlin) “Hello? C-come in?”

X: Merlin is on the speaking tube. Dark haze billows out of his mouth with each word. 

S: No response from the Ship. The umbilical beneath them is patchy, blotches of white spreading along it. That’s not good. 

M: There’s a woozy lightheaded feeling as the strange shadowy vapor continues to steam out of them, collecting like dew on the peaked ceiling of the sloop before somehow leaking even through THAT to continue its journey upward, drawn by a force as fundamental as gravity.

S: (Cleo) “Where’d it go?” Cleo asks dreamily. The constant dribble of black mist steaming off her body –

M: off of all their bodies – 

S: is beginning to drip diagonally, then slightly more sideways, then fully sideways, like candle smoke sucked horizontally into a draft, towards an otherworldly attraction no longer above them, but increasingly…beside. Increasingly– 

X: (Granddaughter) “It’s trying to get beneath us, it’s in the mica.” The Granddaughter shrinks back from the windowed walls of the sloop, a very new form of panic this time, something quite novel flooding through them. 

S: They look urgently to Merlin, who, uh…

M: Merlin has directed his waning focus to his own self, wiping weakly at the black matter siphoning from his flesh. (Merlin) “Is this…fold?” 

S: He dizzily shakes his head. 

M: (Merlin) “How…can this be?” 

S: (Cleo) “Hello? Is anyone there?” 

X: Cleo is going limp in her chair, the whites of her eyes turning black, seeping bruises spreading down her arms. 

M: Her bioluminescence, nearly impossible to see in this blinding brightness, is strobing with a fluttering, erratic rhythm.

S: (Cleo) “Merlin? Dot? Granny?”

M: (Merlin) “C-Cleo, you’re…”

S: Merlin reaches for her, but then seems to forget what he was doing halfway through the gesture. 

M: (Merlin) “I, uh…” 

S: He looks at the Granddaughter, the light fading from his eyes, ink beading on the pores of his face. 

M: (Merlin) “I should have turned us around sooner.” 

X: A sudden gush of dark mist from their bodies, a sweating of inky liquid dripping directly sideways out of their skin to puddle, to cling impossibly to the wall of the sloop like ferrofluid drawn to a powerful magnet outside.

S: The dark mica of the sloop itself is turning increasingly white and opaque in splotchy patches like frosted glass, its inky impregnation of fold evaporating.

X: The passengers’ vision swims and begins to dim, and the Granddaughter begins to feel… well, something they’ve been yearning for, 

S: striving for, 

X: but have never really known. 

[Sudden silence.]

M: Tranquility. 

S: Quiet. 

X: A growing silence. A clearing of their thoughts. An evaporation of emotion. A sense of their messy, flawed humanity being scoured out of them like dirty dishes in hot, soapy water.

[The sound begins to return.] 

S: (Cleo) “This is nice,” 

M: says Cleo quietly, smiling as she slumps out of her chair. 

S: (Cleo) “Wow.”

M: (Merlin) “Yes, it is…” 

S: Merlin agrees vacantly, an eerie contentment in his eyes, in his voice, as he loses his grip on the controls and collapses to the floor.

M: (Merlin) “I should…write this down…”

X: Without Merlin at the helm, the sloop lists into the mica wall, grinding to a standstill. 

S: The all-consuming sound outside, resonating within the walls of mica, is coming straight for them. 

M: An enveloping summons, an invitation, an inevitability. 

X: Is this Realization? It feels like it might be, but the Granddaughter doesn’t know if they like it.

S: They can’t decide. 

M: They’re not sure. 

X: They don’t know. And in their fading consciousness, a distant echo, a recollection of Artifice’s words: 

S: You will know when Realization appears before you. It will not be unclear. 

M: And in that instant, it is clear. And the Granddaughter does know.

X: This is not Realization. This is death. 

X: (Granddaughter) [panting] “No… No… No…”

S: The Granddaughter deliriously flings themself at the controls, slamming the dive lever, and the sloop plummets just as the mica shaft beside them explodes in a maelstrom of movement, and a vast form backlit by maddening light erupts titanically into the space where they just were.

[Loud shattering sound.]

M: Merlin and Cleo barely notice. They are almost insensible. 

X: Dot has no clue how to fly this thing. The sloop bangs and scrapes against the walls, descending violently as the gigantic silhouette emits its call directly above. 

S: The tone resonates. Fluid steams from everyone’s bodies. 

M: The sloop sweats ink from its crystal hull and increasingly does not respond to the controls.

S: (Cleo) [yawning] “I’m gonna take a little nap,”

X: Cleo murmurs. She has fallen sideways out of her seat and is now lying on the floor like a limp doll in her ridiculous gossamer skirts, with a vacant smile on her lips, 

M: black dewdrops clinging to her eyelashes, staring up at the approaching thing through the patches of dark mica translucence that still remain on the pyramidal ceiling of the sloop.

S: (Cleo) “Sweet dreams, Merlin. Sweet dreams, Dot.” 

M: (Merlin) “Yes, a little…shut-eye, I think…” 

S: Merlin whispers, eyes closing. 

X: The Granddaughter reaches for them. (Granddaughter) “No, wait, don’t go!”

S: Whatever is being drained out of their bodies is something they all desperately need to hold on to, every bit as much as blood or breath. 

M: The shape above is calling for it, summoning it out of them. And for the Granddaughter, the sound is bringing with it that total tranquility, a banishment. 

X: The clamoring thoughts, the fear and doubt and self-flagellation and criticism usually so deafening in the Granddaughter’s mind…is silent, gone, their consciousness draining away. They don’t have to fake it anymore.

S: They really are at peace, with a mind effortlessly vacant of thought and feeling. 

M: Like every Granddaughter seeking Realization is supposed to be.

S: Congrats, Dot! You’re transcending. It’s a wonderful feeling. Too bad it’s killing you.

X: (Granddaughter) “No!” they cry out, shaking themselves, black sweat wicking from their chin. “No, no!”

S: They’ve been fighting their whole life to FIND the silence. Now they have to fight AGAINST it? 

X: Yeah, this is not Realization. This is a bad dream. 

M: They all have to wake up. If they don’t… 

X: (Granddaughter) “How do I fly this? Merlin!”

M: His eyes flutter. He barely moves, a gruesome dark fog misting from his skin. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Merlin!”

S: The titan form swirls above, the song oscillating into impossible overtones. Dot’s vision tunnels. Cleo twitches, black foam bubbling at the corners of her mouth. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Cleo, please wake up! Merlin!”

M: Neither of them respond, and fear surges in the Granddaughter’s dying mind. 

S: Rising, fighting to resurface, overpowering the quieting influence of the celestial song.

M: The sloop is descending poorly, its dark mica coloration nearly gone now, mostly white, 

S: and the black liquid crystal umbilical below is calcifying into a rope of white, chalk-like, dead mineral. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Merlin, you can write new books about this. Merlin!” 

M: He’s barely breathing. 

X: (Granddaughter) “I want to know more about the cosmos. I wish I could take your cosmology class!”

M: He barely seems to stir. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Merlin! Uh… All your s– uh, all your science is wrong!” 

S: Merlin jolts. 

M: (Merlin) “What? That’s not true.” 

S: Oh, thank god. 

X: (Granddaughter) “No, it’s true. Mother Artifice told me he wants to throw all your papers overboard!” 

M: Merlin’s eyes flutter. (Merlin) “I, I don’t think that’s very appropriate of him. I labored greatly over those documents.”

S: He’s still not exactly home, but it’s better than before. Anything to prevent him from letting go.

X: (Granddaughter) “And the Bocular Man is…not impressive!”

M: (Merlin) “I’m going to have to ask you to see me after class.”

S: The bottom of the crystal shaft is coming into view below, the blizzard still swirling like a whirlpool beneath them, the Ship barely visible somewhere in its tempestuous depths.

M: Dot fights the controls, but the sloop is slowing, slowing. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Cleo, tell me about Princess Shiny!” 

S: She’s not moving.

X: (Granddaughter) “I’ll tell you more about the Coenobium if you tell me about your family!”

M: She’s not breathing.

X: (Granddaughter) “I’ll tell you more about me!” 

S: She’s not… 

X: (Granddaughter) “Cleo, did you know that you’re really pretty? You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen and talking to you makes me incredibly nervous!”

S: (Cleo) “Really?” 

M: A tiny voice, barely there. Her eyes flicker. 

X: (Granddaughter) “Oh, n-no, I mean–”

S: The sloop fails entirely, trembling to a stop just shy of the bottom of the mica shaft. 

M: Clouds and ice whirl in forceful torrents below, just out of reach.

S: The sloop controls do not respond.

M: Merlin and Cleo are fading again. 

X: (Granddaughter) “No, please! Come back, I don’t know what to do!”

S: Waves of cascading energy, like the focal point of sunlight through a magnifying glass, hammer the Granddaughter specifically now, 

M: gnawing at them, drawing from them, seeking to consume them. 

X: The primal fear is fading from the Granddaughter’s mind, siphoning from them, and the dead, empty stillness is once again taking its place.

S: The Granddaughter’s legs buckle. They fall to the floor of the sloop beside Cleo and Merlin 

X: as the titanic presence settles directly above, and the dying light radiating from the now-dead white mica of the sloop begins to fall upon the surface of the silhouette. Dot’s blackening eyes widen,

M: as they begin to see…

S: Oh god, as they begin to see…

[Fade to silence. Then, a metallic thump.]

X: A sudden impact from below. The sloop jolts and twists, and then is wrenched downward out of the shaft, the dead umbilical shattering. 

M: The three aboard slide violently on the floor, and suddenly the sloop is engulfed in gale-force wind, clouds, and flashing mica debris. 

S: The red dart of the Stagecoach arcs in the air above them, mica shrapnel sparking off its hull, the sloop swinging at the end of its cargo lariat.

[Heroic music.]

X: The huge black arrowhead of the Ship looms out of a cloudbank just below. 

M: Daggle’s acoustic device skitters against Dot’s legs, squawking, shorting.

S: (Micky) “Everyone okay in there? We gotcha.”

X: Oh, thank god, it’s Micky calling from the Stagecoach. 

S: (Micky) “We’re towing you in. Hang on.”

X: The Granddaughter casts about in the cloudscape above for the shadow in the storm, for the hole above, for the thing coming after them. But they don’t know where it is anymore. They can’t see it. 

M: IS it still coming after them?

X: (Granddaughter) “Shoot the tunnel.” 

S: (Micky) “What? Hello?”

X: The Ship’s hangar door yawns wide. The sloop and Stagecoach dive for it. (Granddaughter) “Shoot the tunnel, shoot it and run!”

S: (Micky) “Control, uh–”

X: (Granddaughter) “Shoot the tunnel and run! Shoot–”

S: (Micky) “Uh, shoot the tunnel and run! Control! Control!”

M: The sloop and Stagecoach slam into the hangar. Dot hears the wind-up of the Ship’s dorsal laser, the deafening screech of a shot being fired upwards into the shaft above. They distantly hear cracks and shifts like a glacier sloughing, like the first moments of an avalanche as the passage above is obliterated. Will it matter? Will it be enough? 

S: Voices from outside the sloop echoing in the hangar. Shapes moving beyond the splotchy frosted glass. 

X: Rawfield, Shanamarian, working to get into the sloop as the hangar doors shut and the whole Ship dives down into the clouds, getting the fuck out of here. 

S: Inside the sloop, all is still. Dot lies alongside Cleo and Merlin, breathing shallowly.

[Music fades.] 

M: Merlin’s eyes flutter. 

S: (Cleo) “Granny…” Cleo murmurs.

X: The voices of the crew outside the sloop sound worried. But why? the Granddaughter wonders. There is nothing to worry about. There is nothing…