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Killing him didn't improve the quality of his advice much, but fine! You're doing it. You just feel like you're going to fall on your face. Like you're missing something important. Before he fell, Ellery looked. You look. It's still you. It's always you. It has your eyes— eye. If you close your bad eye, you can see Casey's strings, approaching fast. They're seriously weird-looking: an organic-ish tangle, but a hollow one, with something brighter coiled inside. To your side, Everard's strings have dulled and untwisted. Yours are normal, as far as 'normal' can be applied to them. A little sun, and a twin sun below, right at your feet.
Wait, what? It's in the puddle. Your strings are being reflected, same as you are. Is it an illusion? Surely it is, unless your reflection is you already. Or could be you, or will be you, or... um... look, this isn't your area. It seems meaningful, is what you mean. Could Ellery see something like this? Richard?
«You said he had no eyes.»
Yes.
«Then yes, I'd believe so.»
Right. Okay. If your strings are in there, you're in there. If you're in there, there's nothing impeding you from joining you. Or something. You're not quite sure. But you don't need to be, you think, you hope, and Casey's footsteps are loud, and his light looms large, and you look into the spiral of your own eye and hold your breath and tilt forward.
*
You don't fall on your face. So that's good. That's a win. Your standards aren't high right now.
>[+1 ID: 4/14]
Otherwise, there's mirrors here. What were you expecting? Actually, you know what you were expecting: the underground hallway, but all backwards, and with Ellery instead of Casey. And you could've gone right up to Ellery and surprised him, and then you would've... um... alright, your plan ended there. But still! It would've been easy to deal with. Instead, there's mirrors. Mirrors and mirrors and mirrors and mirrors, everywhere, at all angles, floor and ceiling and walls, and you're in all of them— your reflection is. Or maybe just you. You're worried about looking at the strings, since you don't want your eyes to explode. You stretch back, into infinity, everywhere.
You already feel lost, and you haven't moved an inch. Where's Ellery? Is Ellery reflected infinitely anywhere? Of course he isn't. Just Charlottes upon Charlottes. Not all the same, either. Almost the same. Mostly the same. But as you look (and they look), you begin to spot oddities. There's one in your old peacoat, the one the gooplicate stole and wrecked. There's one with her hair up. There's one with two good eyes. There's one that's a giant white lizard-thing.
Wait, that's not— that's not you. That's a lizard-thing. Your dream-crasher. The grand high Herald of the whosit-whatsit. It's <span class="mu-i">here?</span> In real life? Okay, not real life, but... not a dream? Maybe you're inventing it. You blink. Your reflections blink. The Herald does not. As you watch, it turns and plods away.
(Choices next.)
