Part 52 "The Wager"
A waking nightmare, a confrontation, a grand finale...
In the Season 5 finale of Malevolent, Arthur & John are at the mercy of the gods that toy with them. With Kayne's mission in their mind, finding the Blackstone, and Lilith's desires unclear the two must confront the end of their journey once and for all. It's all led to this, what comes next... no one knows.
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PART FIFTY-TWO: THE WAGER
Transcripts made and edited by jack
CWs: unreality, mention of maggots, illness, body/eye horror, vomiting/coughing, murder/death (parental, filicide), corpse mutilation, discussion of suicide, extended sounds of torture, amputation, gore, and blood
(BEGIN Part 52.)
(A click, followed by static. The scene pauses.)
(Blowing wind. A slow melody. John grunts groggily, and Arthur wakes with a sharp inhale. He pants for breath. Shifting dirt.)
JOHN (out of it): What… What happened?
ARTHUR: Where… John…?
JOHN: Arthur?
ARTHUR: What… w-where are we?
JOHN: The… the edge of the swamp, still.
ARTHUR: Where… where… where we sat? The fire?
JOHN: Long since burnt out. It’s day. We made it to morning.
ARTHUR: Morning? Antoine…
JOHN: L-Laying by the water. Breathing, shallow! Still. (Arthur sighs.)
ARTHUR: Lillith…
JOHN: I don’t see her, any trace.
ARTHUR: The last thing I remember… she wanted…
JOHN: The chest! Do you think she – (Shifting dirt. Arthur grunts in exertion.)
ARTHUR: I don’t know. Where is the…?
JOHN: Behind us. The carriage is over –
ARTHUR: Wait, wait!
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR (quieter): Wait, wait, wait wait.
JOHN (impatient): What, Arthur?
ARTHUR: What was the last thing you remember?
JOHN: Lillith, standing over us. I was staring at the… starlight. A-And she… she said she would…
ARTHUR: Do it herself.
JOHN: Yes. So we should check… to see if she’s gotten the Stone!
ARTHUR: Yes. O-Only, Antoine is still breathing?
JOHN: Yes, it seems so.
ARTHUR: Let’s check on him first.
JOHN: Why?
ARTHUR: He survived the night. He may need water, or…
JOHN (confused): Okay? He’s to our left. Laying where we left him, next to the edge of the swamp. Here.
ARTHUR: Antoine. (Quick pats. Antoine wheezes shallowly.)
JOHN: His breathing is shallow, but steady. There’s a pinkness to his cheeks that wasn’t there yesterday. Or perhaps the sun just brings the color out again.
ARTHUR: Antoine! (More pats. Shifting dirt.)
JOHN: He stirs!
ANTOINE (weakly): M’lord? (A sad melody begins.)
ARTHUR: Antoine, are you okay?
ANTOINE: Yes, m’lord. What…
JOHN: He’s okay! His eyes open… painfully viewing the morning light!
ANTOINE: What happened, m’lord? (Shifting fabric.)
ARTHUR: You’re okay? You feel…
ANTOINE: I still feel very weak, m’lord. But I do not understand…
JOHN: Neither do I.
ARTHUR: It’s day. We survived the night.
ANTOINE: Lillith, m’lord. Was that… Was that who I saw last night?
ARTHUR: Yes, you had nightmares, like Alia.
ANTOINE: I did not receive such dreams as Alia, m’lord. These were nightmares, but they too are gone now. Thank you, m’lord. You saved me.
ARTHUR: I…
ANTOINE: But the Blackstone… is it safe?
JOHN: We need to check!
ARTHUR (quickly): Yes, it is.
ANTOINE: It is?
JOHN: Well, we don’t know yet, Arthur.
ARTHUR: It’s safe. Right where we left it.
ANTOINE: You sure?
JOHN: Arthur, w – you don’t know that! There’s no –
ANTOINE: How could you know? Did you check?
ARTHUR: Yes, before you woke.
JOHN (aghast): Arthur, w-why are you…
ANTOINE: I was awake, hearing you before, m’lord. I-I did not hear the carriage open.
ARTHUR: I was quiet.
JOHN: I-I don’t understand.
ANTOINE (desperately): Please, m’lord! Can you check again? (Shifting dirt.)
ARTHUR: Of course.
ANTOINE: Thank you.
JOHN: Arthur, if Lillith has the Stone, we need to know. There’s no… why aren’t you moving?
ANTOINE: M’lord.
ARTHUR: I need the key, Antoine.
ANTOINE: Of course. (Clinking metal.)
JOHN: Arthur, grab it.
ANTOINE: Here it is, m’lord.
ARTHUR: How do you know Alia’s dreams… were different?
ANTOINE: M’lord?
ARTHUR: I said you had nightmares, like Alia. You said… you said you didn’t have dreams like her. Like she did.
JOHN: Antoine’s face… falls, slightly. His expression of sincerity… melts away. (Confused.) Arthur, what… what is going on? I…
ARTHUR: We’re still in our nightmare.
ANTOINE: Oh, m’lord. (Noises of cracking stone. His voice shifts to Lillith’s.)
ANTOINE/LILLITH: Even I get confused about what lies I’m telling. I can’t imagine how tough it is for you.
(Suspenseful music.)
JOHN (scared): Arthur, what the fuck is going on!
ARTHUR: Oh, Scratch. You’re going to need to try much harder than that.
LILLITH: Oh, worry not, my favorite! I plan to. (Lillith growls and laughs. The sounds of something snapping and stretching.)
JOHN: Arthur! The roots from the swamp! (Arthur grunts in exertion and pain.) The ones that grabbed Alia… they grow around us! (More snapping.) Arthur, Antoine is grabbing us and rolling into the swamp! (Arthur inhales sharply. A great splash, and sounds of water. They surface with a gasp.) Arthur, what the fuck is going on?
ARTHUR (panting): Where are we?
JOHN (shocked): You’re laying on the witch’s table! (A sad melody begins.) The slab, like when you were dead! We’re… we’re in her lair again.
LILLITH (at a distance): Poor little Artie!
JOHN: What is going on?
ARTHUR: John, I don’t think she can hear you.
JOHN: Why am I here? Last time… last time I wasn’t in your nightmare!
ARTHUR: You need to try and look through my eyes in real life. I don’t know why. Something is different, I can feel it this time. (Lillith cackles.)
JOHN: Mother Darkness. The spell she cast on you… perhaps it…
LILLITH: Lost in a sea of nightmares… (Slow footsteps.)
JOHN: She’s approaching.
LILLITH (growing closer): Last time, your playthings were different. I needed Hattie out and fed upon your fear greedily. But I no longer need that to satisfy. I only need… you.
(Metal scraping.)
JOHN: It’s Lillith, Arthur. (Arthur pants in fear.) We’re in the hag’s den again. On the slab. Can you move?
ARTHUR (straining himself): I can’t move!
JOHN: She approaches with a large blade.
LILLITH: We can spend all the time in the world together… my favorite. A moment here can last… forever.
ARTHUR: Is that so?
JOHN: Arthur, I’m… (Frustrated.) I’m trying to look outside, it’s difficult! To see beyond this… nightmare. This is nothing like what I experienced with Horig! (Footsteps.)
LILLITH: I know you weren’t privy to what she did to you previous! (Fake piteously.) Cutting you open and shoving maggots inside… so unfair! This time… you can be awake!
ARTHUR (defiantly): You can do whatever you want to me! I will not get you that Stone.
LILLITH: You still think the Stone is for me? (Lillith chuckles.)
JOHN: Wait, wait! (He gasps. A delicate melody begins.) I see it! Embers of firelight, maybe! Beyond this… through your clenched eyes, I-I see something!
LILLITH: Let me know if you can feel this. (Arthur pants in fear. Lillith stabs him. Arthur screams in agony. More stabs, and sounds of gore. Lillith starts to laugh.)
JOHN: Arthur! Arthur, it’s not real! None of this is real! You can fight it! Moreso than ever before! I-I can… sense it. I-It isn’t just that Mother Darkness hindered her –
LILLITH: And now, the abdomen! (Lillith stabs him. Arthur screams in pain. Sounds of gore.)
JOHN: But she… gave us some kind of gift! We have a connection to Lillith, I-I can feel it! (Metal scraping.) Look beyond the nightmare. (Arthur starts to hyperventilate.)
ARTHUR (high-pitched): I can’t, I can’t!
(Sounds of ripping.)
JOHN (eagerly): You can! You’ve done it before. None of this is real. Hear my voice! We are still by the fire.
LILLITH: You can’t what?
ARTHUR (tearfully): I can’t…
JOHN: And..
.
ARTHUR: I can’t…
JOHN: I can see…
ARTHUR: I can’t… I can’t…
JOHN (in awe): I can see the stars!
ARTHUR: I can… I… (Softly.) I can see them, too.
JOHN: You can.
ARTHUR: I can see them. (Lillith huffs.) How?
LILLITH: What?
JOHN: Now. (Commanding.) Sit up!
(Mild audio distortion. Arthur grunts in pain. Something continuously creaks.)
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: You have control here?
CONDUCTOR: Next stop, Goatswood!
ARTHUR: Where are we?
JOHN: You can’t see.
ARTHUR: I could see, for a moment! The stars were… what happened?
JOHN: I-I don’t know! I think I was helping you, somehow.
ARTHUR: I don’t have control.
JOHN (insistent): You do.
ARTHUR: No, I hear you, but I don’t have control over where we are. Just what I can do.
JOHN: Right. Right, i-it looks like a train.
ARTHUR: A train? I… I’ve been on a train before, in the last nightmare. From when we met the Butcher.
JOHN: No, this isn’t like that. This train is… odd, crudely made, almost. All the same, light wood, there are no passengers! Outside, it looks like we’re passing through a forest, though the trees are massive and faraway! (A whoosh. Crinkling paper.) O-Oh. You’re holding a piece of paper. A letter!
ARTHUR: What does it say?
JOHN: It’s from Oscar. It says… (Reading.) ‘Arthur…’
(The voice switches to that of Oscar.)
OSCAR (bitterly): ‘I thought you were my purpose. How wrong I was. I put everything I had into trusting you. I lost everything. We all lost everything.’
ANTOINE: ‘My life.’
LORD EVRARD: ‘My castle.’
DETECTIVE NOEL: ‘My job. And everything that could’ve come after.’
OSCAR, ANTOINE, EVRARD, AND NOEL: ‘You have ruined our lives.’ (Lillith’s voice joins in.) ‘Everything you touch rots.’
ARTHUR: Enough! (John makes a noise of surprise. Ripping paper.) We need to get off this train.
JOHN: Arthur, the cabin is filling with smoke! (Arthur coughs.) Everywhere!
ARTHUR: Smoke?
JOHN: We need to get off. (Arthur keeps coughing.) Get up! (A whoosh of fire.) Flames, Arthur, everywhere!
ARTHUR: I can feel the heat.
(Metal groaning.)
JOHN: The train is moving. (Arthur groans in exertion. Metal creaking.)
LILLITH: You burn his train out of jealousy…
JOHN: Arthur, hold onto something!
ARTHUR: I’m trying!
LILLITH: He had what you didn’t –
JOHN: It’s turning upside down!
LILLITH (cheerfully): What a friend you are!
JOHN: We’re falling, Arthur, the train! It’s falling! (Roaring.) Hold on!
(Arthur shouts. A brief silence, followed by an impact. John and Arthur make noises of pain. More impacts. The sounds of silt falling. Lillith whispers at a distance.)
LILLITH: Is this a fire you wish to keep alive, as well?
ARTHUR: Where are we?
LILLITH (faraway): Arthur.
JOHN: The chasm, from the Dreamlands. Where we fell and killed that large creature.
ARTHUR: I remember. (Shifting dirt. Something squishes.)
JOHN: Arthur, if Lillith can’t hear me… maybe we have the advantage here. Perhaps… Perhaps we can kill her.
ARTHUR: How?
JOHN: I don’t know. In the real world, it’s clear that she’s powerful, able to shape-change, manipulate. But perhaps here she’s more vulnerable.
ARTHUR: Can you still see the stars? (A short pause.)
JOHN: No, I only see darkness.
ARTHUR: Are we –
LILLITH: In a memory. (An eerie melody begins.)
JOHN: Lillith walks out from behind a large pile of viscera. She’s bathed in the glowing light from the fires that surround this area.
LILLITH: I’m impressed you managed to fell such a beast as a Gug. In the Dreamlands, no less!
ARTHUR: Dropping all pretense, Lillith?
LILLITH: This really only works once. You’re onto my little game, Arthur. It makes it difficult to trick you.
ARTHUR: So let us leave. Let us wake up.
LILLITH: That’s not exactly what I had in mind.
JOHN: She steps aside. (A mild audio distortion.) Revealing a chest behind her.
LILLITH: I suppose relying on old tricks was foolish, anyway.
ARTHUR: If you can simply make me open it… why bother with any of this?
LILLITH: For all your cleverness, you are still… only… human.
ARTHUR (realizing): You can’t make me get the Stone. Just like Kayne couldn’t.
LILLITH: You think…
ARTHUR: Let me make it perfectly simple for you. I will never get you the Stone. No matter how long you torture me. No matter how many tricks you attempt, no matter how many memories you make me live through. I will never… get you what you want.
LILLITH: Oh, Arthur! I know.
ARTHUR: You know.
LILLITH: Yes. I just needed to keep you busy… so you couldn’t stop Antoine.
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: What? (A mild audio distortion.) Arthur! Arthur, she’s gone! She – (Arthur gasps. Another audio distortion, a rumble of thunder, and falling rain.) A-Arthur. Arthur? (Arthur pants.) We’re… we’re by the fire. The stars… they’re gone, they… the rain is back, and…
ARTHUR: A-Antoine. Antoine. Is he…?
JOHN: He’s gone! From his bedroll! (Suspenseful music starts.) Are we awake? For real, this time?
ARTHUR: Yes, yes. We need to stop him. Quickly! (He grunts in exertion.)
JOHN: Get up! Run, Arthur! (Quick footfalls. Arthur pants.) The carriage behind us, move!
ARTHUR (calling out): Antoine!
JOHN: The door is open and someone is inside! (Wooden thumps.) Here, here! It’s… Antoine!
ARTHUR: No! You’re dreaming, Antoine, wake up!
JOHN: He’s holding the Blackstone, Arthur! (Antoine breathes with difficulty.) He has it in his hand.
ARTHUR: No!
JOHN: His eyes are closed, but he holds it out… like a trophy!
ARTHUR (shouting): Wake up!
JOHN: Arthur, what are you –
ARTHUR: Putting it back.
JOHN: Yes, grab it!
ARTHUR: I am! (A soft impact.)
JOHN: There, from his hand! We need to put it back in the chest, quickly!
(Metal clicking.)
ARTHUR: It’s locked.
JOHN: The key is in the lock, turn it! (More metal clicking.) There, it’s unlocked. Open the chest. Here, here! (Wooden creaking.) There. It’s open. And… Why did you stop? Put the Blackstone in!
ARTHUR (quietly): Why was the chest locked?
JOHN: Oh… Arthur… you’re… you’ve… (Antoine’s heavy breathing turns into laughter.)
ANTOINE/LILLITH: I always knew… you were my favorite. (Cackling.)
JOHN: The guise of Antoine… melts away. And reveals… (More laughter.)
ARTHUR: God… damn.
JOHN (in horror): Lillith.
LILLITH: I’ve always known you were my favorite.
ARTHUR: Antoine…?
LILLITH: Still sound asleep, outside in the rain. (Lillith laughs.)
JOHN: The Stone you’re holding… is just an ordinary rock.
ARTHUR: Fuck. (A hollow impact.)
LILLITH: Don’t beat yourself up, Arthur.
ARTHUR: You…
LILLITH: You’re only human.
JOHN: She cranes her head in the direction of the door outside, as if… waiting. (A short pause.)
LILLITH: It’s still raining.
ARTHUR: Of course.
LILLITH (quietly): Why isn’t he here?
ARTHUR: What?
LILLITH: Touch it!
JOHN: Arthur, I…
ARTHUR (insistently): No.
LILLITH: Arthur!
JOHN: Arthur, t-the box… it’s empty. There’s nothing inside.
ARTHUR: The chest is empty. (Heavy footfalls.)
LILLITH: What?
ARTHUR: It’s… empty. (Arthur starts to cackle wildly. The sound of rummaging. Quick footfalls, a heavy impact against wood, and noises of pain.)
LILLITH (demanding): Where is it!? (Arthur continues to laugh.)
(More loud rummaging.)
JOHN: Arthur, she’s thrown us to the back of the carriage with incredible force!
ARTHUR: I felt it!
JOHN: Arthur, when Lillith threw us back… a piece of her fell off.
ARTHUR (still laughing): What?
LILLITH: Where is it!? (Arthur laughs harder.)
ARTHUR: Who knows!? Probably back at Castle Kerringford, frankly.
JOHN: She turns to us, vitriol in her eyes!
LILLITH: We’ll see. (A mild audio distortion. John gasps.)
JOHN: Arthur, she’s… she’s gone. (Arthur chuckles.) She’s gone. Where is the Stone?
ARTHUR: I have no idea. Genuinely. Maybe, maybe all of this was a way to dupe us. (A soft ringing.) What… What is that sound?
(It emanates a soft, otherworldly noise.)
JOHN: That’s the piece of her.
ARTHUR: What… it fell off her?
JOHN: I don’t know. It looks like a small… black… nail, almost. But it hit the ground heavily.
ARTHUR: A piece of her? She’s falling apart.
JOHN: Clearly the act of throwing us back took a lot out of her. Perhaps why she didn’t just force us to open the chest in the first place.
ARTHUR: That, and I don’t think she could actually open it.
JOHN: Should we take it?
ARTHUR: Yes. Yes…
JOHN: You think?
ARTHUR: Yes, where – where is it?
JOHN: Here. (The hum grows louder. Arthur grunts in exertion.) On the floor of the carriage. It… rings.
ARTHUR: I hear it! But not with my ears, I…
JOHN: No, it’s… it’s as if it exists in another space. The piece itself…
ARTHUR: You said a nail? Like a metal nail, or…
JOHN: Almost. (A thoughtful melody begins.) Lillith’s projection of Scratch… whatever material she is in this world is fluid, almost. It came from the ground, from the mud, at first. Earlier tonight, but… it’s… not stable. Her whole body… her skin reacts with her speech, spiking and curling as her words do. O-Or… did.
ARTHUR (grim): Oh, she’ll be back.
JOHN: This looks like a hardened black… spike that has fallen from whatever skin she has. I believe it fell from her hand when she swatted us away. From… one of her elongated fingers.
ARTHUR: A spike.
JOHN: It’s right there.
ARTHUR: Alright. (Quick tapping, and an otherworldly whoosh. John makes noises of fear. Arthur pants.) Oh my – oh. Oh! What… what… was…
JOHN: It’s gone! It…
ARTHUR (breathless): What?
JOHN: It was… y-your hand, i-i-it… it absorbed it?
ARTHUR: Absorbed it!? Is it… can you see it? (Rustling.) In my hand, i-i-in my…
JOHN: No. No, it’s gone. When you touched it, it… it almost… came alive. The way it first crawled up Lillith, i-it attached to your hand and… disappeared. Do you… feel anything? Any different?
ARTHUR: No. No, I… I don’t think so.
JOHN: That may have been a bad idea.
ARTHUR (sarcastically): Oh, add it to the list. (He grunts. Wooden tapping.)
JOHN: Where are you…
ARTHUR: Antoine. She said he was outside. Sound asleep, if… if he’s alive…
JOHN: The carriage door. Here, here. Here. (Wooden creaking. The rain grows louder.)
ARTHUR: Antoine! (Shouting.) Antoine! Anything?
JOHN: I don’t… his bedroll is clear. She must have moved him.
ARTHUR (shouting): Antoine! (Footsteps.)
JOHN: Check behind the wagon. (Dirt shifting.) There! There. By the front wheel. Antoine. He’s propped, sitting up against the wheel! (Antoine struggles for breath.) Here, here, here!
ANTOINE: I-I tried to call, m’lord.
ARTHUR (gently): Stop, stop!
ANTOINE: I could hear you inside, thinking she was…
ARTHUR: Stop, it’s okay.
ANTOINE: I tried t-to call… (He coughs and spits.)
ARTHUR: Relax, it’s fine!
JOHN: His face is deathly pale. Blood stains his chin and neck of his shirt. He’s drenched from the rain. No protection on this side of the carriage.
ARTHUR: C-Come, let’s get you back to the covered side of the carriage. (Dirt shifting.)
ANTOINE: No, no. No, m’lord. I cannot.
ARTHUR (urgently): But you must! You cannot give up on me now.
ANTOINE: There’s no time left, m’lord.
ARTHUR: There is always time! We keep moving. Remember, we keep pushing forward.
ANTOINE: No, there is no more forward for me. And you must –
ARTHUR (insistent): Yes, there is. Lillith has gone for the moment to Castle Kerringford, but perhaps it will take her some time, at least. To travel there, to search the premises, perhaps a day, I-I don’t know.
ANTOINE: N-No, m’lord! It is gone.
ARTHUR: Evrard even may have a way to slow her –
ANTOINE: It is gone, m’lord! (He coughs wetly.)
ARTHUR: It is… what is?
ANTOINE (whispering): Castle Kerringford.
ARTHUR: Is… is gone?
JOHN: He nods.
ARTHUR: How? How could you know that?
ANTOINE: It was one of the last things Alia shared with me. Evrard knew it was only a matter of time. There was no… if. Only when its walls fell. (A wistful melody begins.)
ARTHUR: So the Stone isn’t at Kerringford.
JOHN: He shakes his head ‘no’.
ARTHUR: And Evrard?
JOHN: He stares at us… blankly.
ARTHUR: Is dead as well.
ANTOINE (tearfully): I’m sorry, m’lord.
ARTHUR: Don’t. Don’t be sorry for me! What are you… (Passionately.) You are the one that… (Falling apart.) Why are you… what is it that… I… am sorry, Antoine. I’m the one that’s sorry. You’ve given so… so much. You’ve done so much. For… (He sobs.)
JOHN: He looks… tired. Ready to die, Arthur.
ANTOINE (shivering): The rain is so cold, m’lord.
ARTHUR: Here. Here, here. (Dirt and fabric shifting.) Come here. Come here. Here. Just…
ANTOINE: I cannot feel your warmth.
ARTHUR (tenderly): Just rest. Just rest, okay?
ANTOINE: I’m so tired.
ARTHUR: I know. I know. You’re always… worrying about other people. Just… may I share something with you, Antoine?
ANTOINE: M’lord?
ARTHUR: I’ve known you… before.
JOHN: His eyes remain still, fixated on a point in the distance.
ARTHUR: Well, after. I-In actuality. After this. Beyond all of this, I… I… can’t explain how, but I know you. W-We never met, um. But I saw the man you were to become.
JOHN: His eyes flick towards us. His eyelids flutter weakly, but… remain open.
ANTOINE: Who was I to become?
ARTHUR: A great man. A passionate, loyal man. Devoted to a cause… unyielding, uh. And u-unapologetically true to yourself. You… You did… wonderful things.
ANTOINE: Was I kind?
ARTHUR (chuckling): The kindest. I’ve heard. Compassionate, yes, uh. Caring… loving…
ANTOINE: Loving? Did I have… love?
ARTHUR: The purest kind. The love of your friends.
JOHN: He smiles.
ARTHUR: A friend’s love can carry you through the worst of life’s trials and tribulations, and you had… mountains of it. Just… mountains.
ANTOINE: I was kind?
ARTHUR: Very. Very.
ANTOINE: I was loved?
ARTHUR: Unconditionally. (A short pause. Shakily.) Rest, Antoine. Rest. (A long pause. Quieter and quieter.) Antoine? Antoine? Antoine?
JOHN: His breathing stops.
ARTHUR (sniffing): Yeah. Yeah. (Dirt shifts.)
JOHN: What now?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. I don’t know.
JOHN: The Blackstone?
ARTHUR (sighing): I have no idea.
JOHN: If only Antoine had…
ARTHUR: Oh, his mind was adrift. Nightmares from Lillith, I… I can’t imagine the strength he had throughout that.
JOHN: I don’t blame him for not telling us. But now how are we to protect it?
ARTHUR: Yeah. I-I don’t know. (He breathes shakily.)
JOHN (realizing): The talisman!
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: The talisman, A-Arthur! We could…
ARTHUR: Oh. Oh, John, I don’t know, that’s –
JOHN: Antoine. He’s the only one left who knows where the Blackstone is!
ARTHUR: He’s dead, John.
JOHN: He doesn’t have to be.
ARTHUR: I… I-I don’t know. I don’t know.
JOHN: This may be our only chance, Arthur. The only way we can find the Blackstone. (Shifting. The sound of metal clinking.) There. Yes. It brought you back. We can do the same for him.
(A hopeful melody begins.)
ARTHUR (quietly): No. No, we can’t. (John sighs.) He’s earned his rest, John. He’s earned it.
JOHN: I understand. Then why are we still holding onto it?
ARTHUR: You’re right. (Metal clinking. A soft impact.)
JOHN: We should… move him out of the rain, at least.
ARTHUR: Agreed. (Sounds of shifting.)
JOHN (urgently): Be… (Normally.) Please be careful. Don’t touch his skin.
ARTHUR: I-I have the prince’s gloves on, remember?
JOHN: Right. Right.
ARTHUR: I don’t want you to relive that, either.
JOHN: Thank you.
ARTHUR: Alright. (He grunts in exertion. Sounds of shifting.)
JOHN: Wait, wait. Arthur.
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: The… collar of his shirt. It’s come undone.
ARTHUR: Okay?
JOHN: He’s always kept it tightly buttoned. It looks like there is something… below his neck.
ARTHUR: Below his…
JOHN: Unbutton his collar. (Fabric shifting.) What…? H-His…
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: His chest.
ARTHUR: What about it?
JOHN: It’s… covered in… tattoos. (A suspenseful tune starts.)
ARTHUR: Tattoos?
JOHN: Intricate, detailed lines of black ink that seem to cover… tear his shirt! They cover his torso, I think! (Tearing fabric.) Jesus.
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN (shocked): Arthur, they cover his entire body beneath his clothes! Writing, as well. In a language I don’t… I-I can’t…
ARTHUR: What? Why on Earth is Antoine – ?
JOHN: But his chest! Beneath the tattoos are deep red scars!
ARTHUR: Scars?
JOHN: Deep wounds, healing over! Strips of iron pinch the skin closed. A sickly pale liquid has pooled in the deeper recesses of these gouges. Arthur, it looks as though Antoine has been… torn apart! And sewn back together.
ARTHUR: Why! Why on Earth would he… would he hide his… hide these…?
(A short pause.)
JOHN (realizing): It couldn’t be.
ARTHUR (realizing): All this time.
JOHN: Alia said… a safe place.
ARTHUR: Antoine.
JOHN: He must’ve done so willingly.
ARTHUR (sadly): Oh, Antoine.
JOHN: The Blackstone is in – (Metal clanking.)
YORICK (fiercely): No!
ARTHUR: Yorick!
YORICK: Master, you mustn’t!
JOHN (angry): How dare you! For weeks you’ve said nothing!
ARTHUR: I mustn’t what!?
JOHN: You think you can suddenly speak and expect us to listen?
ARTHUR: What, Yorick?
JOHN: You –
YORICK: You must not –
JOHN: Have you known this whole time?
ARTHUR: What, Yorick?
YORICK: No, I did not. John! You must –
JOHN: The Blackstone is inside Antoine.
(Yorick exhales.)
ARTHUR: We’re not going to take it out. I know touching it is dangerous, th…
JOHN: Antoine’s tattoos must have kept him… safe. Perhaps Alia wrote these words.
ARTHUR: It was here all along. The whole time. (Frustrated.) Yorick, where the fuck have you been?
(The sound of rain lessens.)
YORICK: It is too late.
ARTHUR: What is too late?
JOHN: We’re not taking the Stone out. We’re –
YORICK: He has… heard us. (Thunder booms.)
ARTHUR: Who has heard us? (A quiet piano melody begins.) Is that…?
JOHN (in horror): No. No.
YORICK: He has found… his prize.
ARTHUR: No. Is this… are we dreaming?
JOHN: No. The trees are still around us. Though I don’t think we’re in the woods anymore. The rain has stopped. Antoine is still here… and so is he. He sits at a grand piano, like he did when we first met him. His back to us. (Shifting dirt. Arthur grunts in exertion.) Where are you…?
ARTHUR: You know the only way is through him. (Footsteps. The piano grows louder. Wood creaking.)
KAYNE: What do you think? Do you like it?
JOHN: He stays with his back to us, playing the piano.
KAYNE: I’ve been practicing. I call this… ‘The Wager’.
ARTHUR: ‘The Wager’.
KAYNE: Mh-hm. It’s a bet, darling.
JOHN: He knows what a wager is. (Kayne cackles.)
KAYNE: That – That’s good, that’s – that’s funny.
ARTHUR: You already made your wager, didn’t you?
KAYNE (drawn-out): Mmmmm?
ARTHUR: When you gave us your dagger?
KAYNE: Oh, good memory, Artie! Yes, I did. Though! That wager paid off.
JOHN (dangerously): Did it?
(Wood creaks.)
KAYNE: Big time, are you kidding!? My Stone is over there in that little peasant’s chest and all I have to do is get it. But no no no no no. (The piano continues.) This… wager. This is a new one.
JOHN: A new wager?
KAYNE: Oh, yes. This one’s for all the… (A faraway otherworldly whoosh. The piano stops.)
ARTHUR: For all the what? For all the – (Kayne shushes him.)
KAYNE: I’m afraid I’m gonna need to borrow that hand of yours, Arthur.
ARTHUR: What? (John reacts in shock. Fabric shifting.)
JOHN: Arthur! The Hand of Malevolence! It –
(Arthur gasps for breath.)
YORICK: No! Master, stop him from –
ARTHUR: What?
KAYNE: Give it here, now!
JOHN: He’s somehow removed it from our bag! (Kayne cackles.) Without approaching!
YORICK: Master!
JOHN: It’s drawn to his hand like a magnet.
YORICK: You must stop him –
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: Kayne holds it and –
KAYNE: One moment, Artie. I just need to –
LILLITH: Kayne.
KAYNE: Sorry, no time to talk, my dear.
LILLITH: You want a –
(Sudden silence. Kayne sighs in satisfaction.)
JOHN: He’s lit it.
KAYNE: That’s better.
ARTHUR: What? What the fuck is – ?
JOHN: Scratch appeared from nowhere, returning from Castle Kerringford, but… but Kayne lit the hand of Malevolence. She’s standing by the treeline, almost… frozen.
KAYNE (annoyed): Oh, lose the get-up, honey. (Mud shifting.)
JOHN: Her flesh melts away, revealing… Lillith, once again. Her thin, pale form marred by long black nails… claws on her hands and feet. Her eyes look… furious! But she doesn’t move.
KAYNE: Oh, how wonderful, we’re all here!
ARTHUR: The hand! How did you know we – (Footsteps.)
KAYNE: Had it? Made it? Used it? Oh, come now, Arthur. I’ve had an inside horse this whole time. Surely even you have put that together by now.
JOHN (realizing): Yorick.
KAYNE: Don’t you remember who told you to give that little guy a voice?
ARTHUR: I… Yorick.
YORICK: Master.
KAYNE (exaggerated): That little rapscallion thought that shutting up would prevent this from happening! Didn’t you, little guy?
YORICK: I had no other way. I could only hope, knowing my words could cause more harm.
ARTHUR: Harm? (Footsteps. A bittersweet melody begins.) You said… you told me you were different. Something new, you… you thanked me.
YORICK: I… had no choice.
JOHN: From the beginning?
KAYNE: Oh, don’t blame him, boys! Believe you me, he really doesn’t have a choice. He’s just a messenger. You should shoot me, really.
ARTHUR: And so the Hand…
KAYNE: Well, that I wanted for you… (Footsteps.) Daughter.
JOHN: Lillith is still frozen inside the silence of the Hand. Her anger has not subsided, but… her eyes are red… with tears.
KAYNE (passionately): So much fury, so much anger! I had my suspicions about you, Lillith. Once I thought someone was fucking with me, I only needed one guess.
ARTHUR: Fucking with you? How?
KAYNE: Giving you help, Artie! Guiding you, shaping, manipulating, giving you a way to survive! Remember? All your other versions couldn’t keep it together.
JOHN: She has not been helping us.
KAYNE: Oh, please. The only person who loves playing with mortals more than myself is the fruits of my loins.
ARTHUR: She wants the Blackstone.
KAYNE (incredulously): She doesn’t want the Blackstone! (He cackles.) She wouldn’t know what to do with it.
JOHN (sternly): She does.
KAYNE: No, sunflower. She wanted… me.
ARTHUR: You?
KAYNE: Yes. She wanted me here. Anywhere, really. So we could talk. But I know better than to let this one speak.
JOHN: To talk?
KAYNE: To talk, to destroy me. What’s the difference?
ARTHUR: And so?
KAYNE: And so, I had my good little soldier make the Hand of Malevolence for me. (Patronizingly.) So I could make sure she held her tongue like a good… little… girl.
JOHN: She seethes by the treeline.
YORICK: I am no soldier.
KAYNE: Oh-oh! Aren’t you?
YORICK: I had no choice.
KAYNE: No choice!? Please! We all have a choice. We learned that lesson. Right, boys?
JOHN: I…
KAYNE: Oh, come now, sunshine! You haven’t trusted him from the get-go. Don’t tell me you believe these lies now. At the end. (A slow melody begins.)
ARTHUR: I believe… Yorick. When he realized. He is entirely his own.
JOHN: Me, too.
KAYNE: Oh, how charming, that’s the – that’s the line, you… wonderful. Just, awh. Here, here. Yorick, come here.
ARTHUR: No.
KAYNE (fiercely): Come here! (A whoosh. Metal clanking.)
YORICK: Master!
KAYNE: You were such a good little soldier! But you are not entirely your own. Otherwise, I couldn’t do this. (Metal clanking. A small thud.)
JOHN: He’s dropped Yorick to the ground.
ARTHUR (screaming): No!
KAYNE (lightly): Bye-bye!
YORICK: Master, I am sorry – (A crunching noise. Kayne cackles.)
JOHN: You fucking…
ARTHUR: Damn you, Kayne! God damn you!
KAYNE: Relax! (John growls.) No one’s getting out of this one alive. Least of all your boy over there. Antoine, was it? Mm. I have to say, good call on not bringing him back. It would’ve made this part all the more difficult for you.
ARTHUR: This part? (Footsteps.)
KAYNE: Getting the Stone. (Arthur gasps.) Oh, heck! I'll let you choose. You want to dig it out of him? Or do you want to let me get my mitts in there? (Theatrically.) Fair warning! I tend to make an awful mess. Your choice.
ARTHUR: No. (A quiet melody begins.) If you can do it… you can do it yourself.
KAYNE: Hm.
JOHN: Yes, Arthur. (Footsteps.)
KAYNE: Hm. You know what? On second thought… why don’t you do it anyway?
ARTHUR: I said no.
KAYNE: And I said… yes! (Arthur sighs.)
ARTHUR: You can’t make me. And I don’t think –
(Thunder booms.)
KAYNE (aggressively): Oh, yes I can! And what’s more, just because I can… now you can do it while he’s alive.
(A fingersnap and otherworldly whoosh. Antoine, at a distance, begins to cough.)
JOHN: Arthur! Antoine has opened his eyes again! (Arthur reacts in fear.) He’s…
ANTOINE (at a distance): No…
ARTHUR: No.
JOHN: He’s breathing. (Kayne cackles.)
ARTHUR: No! No, no!
KAYNE: Arthur, I don’t think you get it yet! (Footsteps.) I will bring everyone out here you’ve ever loved and make you dig through each and every one of their innards if I want to, just… for… fun! (Antoine continues to cough and choke.) You don’t have a choice in this. Either get me my Stone from his insides, or next I will bring out your daughter… and have you start with her.
(Arthur starts to hyperventilate.)
JOHN: Arthur, I…
ARTHUR (panicked): Okay, okay, okay! But please… please… (Whispering.) Please. Not alive.
KAYNE: Of course. (A fingersnap. Antoine’s noises quiet. Arthur and John gasp.)
JOHN: Antoine is… gone, again. He… he’s…
KAYNE: See? I’m nothing if not merciful!
JOHN: He’s…
KAYNE: Now… go?
JOHN: He’s… his body is back where we left it. By the carriage.
ARTHUR: Right. Right. (Footsteps. Arthur breathes shakily.)
JOHN: Ahead, Arthur, it’s… it’s just ahead of us. Here, here. (Arthur sighs. Fabric shifting.) The body lay with… its back propped up against the carriage. His head slumped down to his chest.
ARTHUR: How is…
KAYNE (at a distance): Best not to think about it too much, Artie! (Eagerly.) Just… dive in.
JOHN: I… I suppose… he should be flat.
ARTHUR: Right. Um…
JOHN: Pull his… ankles so he’s…
ARTHUR: Right, right. (Sounds of exertion.)
KAYNE (spectating): Ooh, watch the head, watch the head!
JOHN: Can you just leave us to this?
KAYNE: Right, sorry. (John growls.) Where did I leave that bag of Gardettos? (Footsteps.)
JOHN: Do you… would you like me to… (Fabric shifting.)
ARTHUR: No, no. This is my doing.
JOHN: Your doing? This is not your doing, Arthur. This is not your fault.
ARTHUR: Isn’t it?
JOHN: No! How can –
ARTHUR: I never should have opened that damned book.
JOHN (taken aback): My book? But then… we never would have met. None of this would have happened.
ARTHUR: Maybe that’s a good thing.
KAYNE: I hear a lot of talking. (Stage whisper.) But not much stabbing!
JOHN: Antoine is…
ARTHUR: No. It’s just a body now, John.
JOHN: Just a body. (Fabric shifting.)
ARTHUR: It’s just a body.
JOHN: Right. Use… use the dagger. (Fabric shifting.)
KAYNE: How is that old dagger of mine? She’s still treating you well?
JOHN: Ignore him. (Metal scraping.)
ARTHUR: It’s just a body. (Arthur grunts in exertion. An impact. Repeated sounds of gore.)
KAYNE: Artie! Have you done this before?
JOHN: The… it’s…
ARTHUR: S-Something… something’s catching.
JOHN: The metal staples. They’re snagging on the dagger. You need to… cut around them. (Ripping gore.)
KAYNE: Wow! I feel like the Butcher still lives on, Artie! (He cackles. More ripping.) Are you planning on saving anything? It is an open casket, after all!
ARTHUR: Shut up! (Kayne cackles.)
JOHN: Just keep going! You’ve almost opened… it up. (Ripping.) There! There.
KAYNE: Now just reach inside… (Arthur grunts in exertion. Squelching noises.)
JOHN: I feel it! It’s… pull it out! (Arthur and John breathe heavily. Kayne exhales in satisfaction. ‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) The Blackstone. It’s large. It’s elongated, with a top and bottom ending in soft points. The texture of which… it feels almost like… melted wax running down the Stone in long rivulets, piled upon each other, as if it’s almost… o-organic. It’s impossibly black.
(An otherworldly whoosh. Footsteps.)
KAYNE: There it is! You’ve done so well, Artie.
ARTHUR: And?
KAYNE: And.
ARTHUR: And once I give this to you…
JOHN: Lillith is still back by the piano. Her eyes flick to us. An odd sense of… pleading exists behind th –
KAYNE: Shush, now. Once you give it to me, I’ll restore everything you’ve ever wanted. Your daughter, your friends! Do you want that little carved turkey behind you sewn up and ready to mingle once again? It’s done. It’s yours. Hell! You want arms for Oscar, I’ve got bags full of them! And that insolent detective that had beef a-plenty with the King? I can tell you where he is. (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.)
ARTHUR: Where?
KAYNE: Oh, he’s still alive, Artie. I don’t even have to bring him back. I can just tell you where he is.
JOHN: Noel?
KAYNE: Oh, he’s somewhere familiar. Somewhere awfully close to home. (Footsteps.) Let’s just say… he’s standing at the… threshold? A-wink.
ARTHUR: Suddenly you want this of me. You want me to give this to you. With such promises… where’s the stick?
KAYNE: Maybe I feel bad about before! Maybe I don’t want to be that kind of being. (He cackles.) I mean, look at the way she looks at me. (Exaggerated.) Her own father!
JOHN: Lillith’s eyes haven’t drifted from us. Or the Stone.
KAYNE: Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she does want the Stone after all. So much anger, so much hate! (Condescending.) Do you want it because Daddy does, honey? Or do you want it for yourself? Mm. Maybe you should choose, Artie.
ARTHUR: What?
KAYNE: Maybe you should choose! Do you want to give it to her… or to me?
JOHN: You can’t be serious.
KAYNE: As serious as a crushed skill!
ARTHUR: I…
KAYNE: But, before we do that… I wonder if my dear daughter told you why you are her… favorite.
ARTHUR: Why…?
KAYNE: Oh, I bet you know already, Artie. In your heart-of-hearts.
ARTHUR: No, I…
KAYNE: No? You don’t remember… anything?
ARTHUR: Remember?
KAYNE: Mhm. Think back. Think hard. You don’t remember seeing it?
ARTHUR: Seeing what?
KAYNE: Warped glass… around the house?
ARTHUR (whispering): What?
JOHN: Warped glass?
KAYNE: With such a distaste for cultists! One must really question your upbringing. Why such a powerful and angry distaste for devotees?
ARTHUR (whispering): No.
KAYNE: No? Hm.
JOHN: He raises his hand.
ARTHUR: Don’t.
KAYNE: Hmm.
JOHN: He presses his fingers together.
ARTHUR: Please.
KAYNE (more high-pitched): Hmmm. Let’s see them again, shall we? (A fingersnap and otherworldly whoosh. Arthur gasps.)
JOHN: A-Arthur… we’re… oh. I recognize this room.
KAYNE: Tell him, Johnny!
JOHN: When you were… a baby.
KAYNE: Mhm!
JOHN: But… you’re…
KAYNE: Just a little older. Well. A lot. Now down the hall! (A fingersnap and otherworldly whoosh. Arthur gasps.)
JOHN: We’re in another room. In the same house. Down the hall, I think.
KAYNE (pleased): Oh, that’s right.
JOHN: It’s your…
KAYNE (sing-song): Tell him.
JOHN: Parents. They are…
ARTHUR (tearfully): Dead.
JOHN: Arthur.
KAYNE (passionately): Dead! Oh, dead dead dead dead dead! Oh, so dead. How many years… (Fake-tearfully.) How many sad poems did you have to write to understand why they did it!
JOHN: Arthur. Don’t… (Kayne shushes him. Footsteps.) A figure heads down the hall.
KAYNE (sing-song): Follow the footprints. (A door opening at a distance.)
JOHN: It entered the room we just exited from. Your room, and –
(A fingersnap and otherworldly whoosh.)
KAYNE: Why walk?
JOHN: You’re… You’re still sleeping. In your bed. Down the hall.
KAYNE: I don’t think you need to wonder why they did it, Artie. (Arthur exhales.)
JOHN: She… Lillith… is standing over you.
(Rising suspenseful music.)
KAYNE: Because, well… here’s the dirty little secret.
JOHN: She’s whispering in your ear.
LILLITH: My… favorite.
KAYNE (whispering): They didn’t. (Footsteps.) She did.
ARTHUR (gasping): She…
KAYNE: Mom and Pop Lester were just like all those other devotees.
ARTHUR: No.
KAYNE: Trying to worship what they couldn’t understand.
ARTHUR: Shut up!
KAYNE: And Lillith was just the one to give them everything they ever wanted.
ARTHUR (furious): Shut the fuck up! You…
KAYNE: I will not. She spared you, Artie. (Arthur starts to cry. Unintelligible whispers in the background.) What kindness! (A fingersnap and otherworldly whoosh.) So! Now that you are well informed and have all the information…
JOHN: We’re back. In the woods. Dawn is breaking. (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) Lillith… Lillith still stares angrily at us.
KAYNE: Now that you are educated… who do you want to give the Stone to? Lillith… or me?
ARTHUR (exhale): We’re going to give it to Lillith.
KAYNE (outraged): Lillith? After all we’ve been through, oh, Artie! How stupid are you? Do you think I’d send you back in time, to another dimension no less, to give you all the tools to create a powerful artifact that will ensnare my daughter… to do all of this for the Blackstone, just to let you choose to give it to her?
ARTHUR (calmly): No. I didn’t.
KAYNE: Well, good! ‘Cause that would’ve been stupid.
ARTHUR: So why ask?
KAYNE: Oh. To see if you finally got the memo.
ARTHUR: What? Memo?
KAYNE: It’s okay. You didn’t want to honor your deal… I won’t honor ours.
ARTHUR: What?
KAYNE: Oh, you heard me. Now! Bring it here. (Shifting.) Wait wait wait wait wait! This is… this… this is quite the occasion! Let’s have a little fanfare, no? Boys! (Snaps. A magical zap. Orchestral instruments play in the background.)
JOHN: Oh! Arthur, an orchestra has appeared, surrounding us!
KAYNE: That’s right.
JOHN: The players are all… they’re all…
KAYNE: Tell him.
JOHN: You.
(Kayne cackles.)
ARTHUR: Me?
KAYNE: Oh, different yous, failed yous! Don’t worry about it. (Facetiously.) It took us a long time to practice! Anyway. Okay. We’re ready. Strike it up! (Multiple taps. The orchestra starts.)
ARTHUR: Wait, wait.
KAYNE: What? (The orchestra stops.)
ARTHUR: If I give you this… do you promise not to let Azathoth out of his cage? (Kayne huffs.)
KAYNE: Cage?
ARTHUR: W-Well, not cage, but… whatever he’s held in. I know everything ends.
(Muted whispers and chuckles in the background.)
KAYNE: Hold on, Artie. Azathoth isn’t in a cage. He’s sleeping.
JOHN: Sleeping?
KAYNE: Yes. And everything you know, see, touch, smell, everything that exists… everything everything everything… is his dream.
ARTHUR: His dream?
KAYNE (sing-song): And when he waaakes… it allll stops.
JOHN: Arthur, I… (Multiple taps. The orchestra starts.)
KAYNE: Now. Bring it to me.
ARTHUR: Wait. (The orchestra stops.)
KAYNE (angry): What?
ARTHUR: Promise you… promise me you aren’t going to awaken Azathoth. (Kayne huffs.)
KAYNE: Bring me the Stone or I will…
JOHN: Arthur.
ARTHUR: I can’t –
KAYNE: We both know that you don’t have a choice here! Don’t fuck with me any longer.
ARTHUR: Okay.
KAYNE: Ahem. A-boys? (Multiple taps. The orchestra starts.)
ARTHUR: Here.
JOHN: Arthur, the Blackstone. It… Kayne reaches for it and… and he… he… (Whispers rise.)
KAYNE (happily): Ah. (The orchestra quiets.)
JOHN: Has it. He has the Blackstone.
KAYNE: Like it was meant to be.
ARTHUR (annoyed): Well?
KAYNE (dreamily): Hm?
ARTHUR: Promise me you aren’t going to wake Azathoth.
KAYNE: Ah, right! Artie. I promise you. I am not going to wake Azathoth. (Arthur sighs.)
JOHN: Oh.
ARTHUR: Thank you.
KAYNE: I… am going to kill him. (An ominous melody swells in the background.)
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR: Kill him? How can you –
KAYNE: Oh, it’s really quite simple, Artie. See, I’ve gone around and killed every single one of my selves, through each and every dimension! Through places you couldn’t even imagine, to realms torn right out of fairytale, to worlds where I am as soft as a daisy, to realities I’ve already destroyed. Every single one of them is dead. And I had to think to myself… well. What happens if I kill Azathoth now? Then I’m the most powerful being in existence.
ARTHUR: You’re mad!
KAYNE: Mad!? On the contrary, my dear. I’d argue that I’m seeing this thing clearly. More than anyone has before.
JOHN: There’s no guarantee! You could be ending everything! Destroying existence. Yourself, included.
KAYNE: Oh, I know! One could say it’s… quite the wager.
ARTHUR: That’s it. That’s your wager! That killing the god of this reality… of all realities will leave you the most powerful being in existence.
KAYNE: Bingo! And what’s more… I can start fresh.
JOHN: Kayne, this is madness. I was… I am the King in Yellow. I understand the need for power, for growth! But this is insane. You won’t succeed.
ARTHUR: He’s right, Kayne. Do not do this. Listen to me. Please. Whatever sick pleasure you’ve gotten from toying with me all those years, through all these dimensions… you’re risking that. Not just risking, you’re throwing that away! I know I can’t change your mind through my life, or – or anyone I know, but… but this isn’t just… it’s not just people, it’s… god, it’s everything! Nothing would remain. Not even… hope!
KAYNE (not buying): Hope?
JOHN: Hope, Kayne! Over the past few months, I’ve come to understand what humanity can be. What it can feel like. It’s so much more than what we thought, a-as gods. As immortals. I took it all for granted, but the limited nature of it… the fact that it ends… it makes it all the sweeter.
ARTHUR: Kayne. You are not a fool. I have underestimated you in the past, I regret that now. You are a malicious, evil, conniving being, but you are not a fool and this! This is a bad bet. It’s a foolish wager. And you are smarter than this.
KAYNE: You think?
JOHN: Think about it, Kayne. What more could you even want?
KAYNE: Oh, boys! You aren’t seeing the big picture. I get to rebuild life… in my image.
(A dreamy tune grows in the background.)
ARTHUR: In your image?
KAYNE: Imagine it now! A clean slate. A world without the limitations, the restrictions put upon us by Azathoth! One that requires no path to walk. Forget these idiotic worlds with water and dirt… playing host to personified viruses! We can truly be free, boys. Limitless piles of sinew… writhing across my canvas… consuming forevermore! (He sighs.) Pure… pleasure. (Voice shaking.) Not of the mind, or the loins, or of the stomach… but of the soul! Joy until the end of time… and nothing… in between. (He sniffs.)
JOHN: He’s… crying.
KAYNE: And you! Daughter.
JOHN: He’s turned to Lillith. (The music quiets.)
KAYNE: Wanted to stop that! (An ominous melody begins. He grunts in exertion. An impact, and the sound of gore. Unintelligible whispers.)
JOHN: Arthur! Kayne has reached into the sphere of silence that held Lillith and torn into her forehead with his fingers!
ARTHUR: Jesus.
KAYNE: How could you do that to me?
ARTHUR (quietly): Oh, god.
JOHN: Her body hangs lifelessly from the end of his arm. He’s killed her. He’s killed his daughter! (Kayne grunts. Squelching gore, and a thud.) He… he’s… he’s walking back to the piano and sitting down. (Footsteps. Wooden creak.)
KAYNE (sighing): So you see, Artie! This isn’t about death. But about life, life as it truly should be. Without pain… without death… fear, or anger! Just… joy! Pure and simple joy. That’s what I offer to you, to everyone! A clean slate. A do-over! Will there be a moment of pain? Yes, of course. But in the end… we will be… infinite. I’m going to put all of our darkness behind us.
ARTHUR: I don’t want to put the darkness behind us, I –
JOHN: It makes us who we are.
KAYNE: Oh? Is that so, little duckling?
JOHN: Yes.
KAYNE: Hm… well, then! Shall we revisit your darkness?
(Wood snapping and dirt shifting.)
JOHN: The trees, the woods surrounding are… turning, rising from the ground and twisting! They’ve become a pale white and… and…
KAYNE: Bone, Johnny! (Bones clattering.) Tell them what you see.
ARTHUR: What is happening?
JOHN: They look like…
KAYNE: Oh, I’ll do it! Remember that time in the Dark World? (Bone clattering.) This… this… was his domain.
JOHN: I…
KAYNE: A citadel… of bones. (He snaps. An otherworldly zap.)
JOHN: Arthur, I…
KAYNE: He sat upon a throne, Artie! Just like this one.
JOHN: I…
KAYNE: Tell ‘em what you did on that throne, Johnny boy!
JOHN: Arthur, I…!
ARTHUR: It’s okay.
JOHN: I found the part of myself I had thought was gone. I hunted, I… I killed as I had once before. As if I were the King again. But I can’t expect you to…
ARTHUR: I forgive you.
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR: I don’t know what you encountered, what you uncovered. I don’t care, John, what you did. You did what you had to do. I care that you lied, but I know… you are something that I can never truly understand. The Dark World is a place that I have no understanding of. And all I can do is say… it’s okay. It’s okay.
KAYNE: Well, boys. I hate to break up this moment… (Condescendingly.) But if it makes you feel any better, you made some great points! And oh, the heart you two share! God, it’s – it’s just so lovely, isn’t it? Is – o-oh, there’s no one left. And, with utter lack of agreement, I suppose it’s time… for you, too, to shake off this mortal coil, Artie. And see what the Dark World holds in all of its glory!
ARTHUR: Kayne… (Kayne shushes him.) But our deal!
JOHN: Arthur! Arthur, careful!
KAYNE: Our deal? Our deal!? (He cackles.) Oh, Artie. I have my wager to think of. (An impact, sounds of gore. Arthur groans in pain.)
JOHN: Kayne!
ARTHUR: Kayne, you bastard!
KAYNE: Oh, have I been waiting for this! (More impacts. Bone snapping. Arthur yells in agony.)
JOHN: Kayne has broken both your legs! (Kayne cackles. Bone snapping. Arthur screams.) Arthur, your hands, no – ! (Sounds of ripping flesh. Tearfully.) Arthur… Kayne, he’s… he’s cutting you… to pieces! (Repeated bloody impacts.)
KAYNE: Gone! (Ripping.) Legless! (Ripping.)
JOHN: Oh my god!
KAYNE: Handless! (Ripping.)
JOHN: Oh my god!
KAYNE: Armless! (Ripping. Arthur gurgles.) You are a shell of man, Arthur! Always were. Who let his daughter die! (Squelching flesh.) Now.
JOHN (horrified): Arthur!
KAYNE: Now, let’s make you really blind, shall we? (Tearing flesh. John and Arthur scream in agony.) Oh, and… I’ve taken your legs, your hands, your eyes…
JOHN: Kayne… Kayne… no…
KAYNE: No, little king, no no no…
JOHN: No, please.
KAYNE: You knew it all came down to this. Your Day of Wrath.
JOHN: Please. Please.
KAYNE (fake-concerned): No. No no no no. Don’t beat yourself up. (Arthur gurgles.) Artie, you shouldn’t have survived in the first place. Call this… a cosmic evening of the scales!
JOHN: Kayne! (A final impact and a timpani. Kayne sighs. A polite, prolonged applause.)
KAYNE: Huh. Excellent job, everyone. Timpanies… little loud. Hoo! Okay. Catchy tune.
(Blood dripping.)
(END Part 52.)