Sugarcane

You can't possibly fight them off. You have nothing but a single small pocket knife; they are hundreds or thousands in number, and their very hands are weapons.\n\nYour giggling won't keep them distracted forever.\n\n''And when they realize that the reason for your laughter is only despair, nothing will hold them back from killing you.''

The will of the dark god fills you, suffuses you, like helium in a balloon. You are but an extension of the dark god, a single finger of a being too great to know form, part of a greater whole.\n\nThe will of the dark god sings through your bones: //Go and join your kindred.//\n\nYou [[fly up out of the chasm]].

You have to get away.\n\nYou thrash and flail wildly, fighting to free yourself from anything touching you. You don't care if you fall, anymore. //[[You have to get away]].//

And yet – there is something in it that feels the same, as though this were only a different pocket of the same dark. You can feel the weird power pulsing through it, and you take a deep breath, trying to [[pull that power back into yourself]].

[[{{{>}}} Yes|deathwish affirmative]]\n[[{{{>}}} No|deathwish negative]]

The only thing you can hope to accomplish from your current position is to throw something in ahead of you. The only target that has any chance at all of not making things //worse// is the large orb of intensely bright light at the center of the angels' nest.\n\nYour only potential projectiles are your [[knife|throw your knife]], your [[matchbook|throw your matchbook]], and your <<if visited("drop a sock")>>[[remaining sock|throw a sock]]<<else>>[[socks|throw a sock]]<<endif>>.

The tunnel twists downwards in various sharp turns that would really throw you off if you were running. It eventually feeds into a bigger tunnel: rather than turn back, you follow it in the natural direction, which leads you towards the sounds of [[occult chanting|lower congregation]].

[[{{{>}}} Sacrifice of yourself]]\n[[{{{>}}} Find a victim]]

You ball up <<if visited("drop a sock")>>your remaining sock<<else>>one of your socks<<endif>> and lob it at the light source.\n\nIt isn't particularly aerodynamic.\n\n''It falls short.\n\nCongratulations: you have successfully alerted the angels to your presence. Those monstrous claws you noticed? They're just as sharp as they looked.''

You take a moment to examine your surroundings while you rest.\n\nThis tunnel definitely looks deliberate. The shapes are organic, but not natural. You can't imagine any natural force of erosion making something so convenient.\n\nIf the tunnel is artificial, what about the pillar you climbed to get here? Was that //its intended purpose//? What kind of people would [[use a system like this]] to get around the cave – and what kind of people would have the technology to carve tunnels and pillars in a way that so closely mimics natural erosion?\n\nYou shiver, and it's only partly because of the cold.

You step into the cavern with your eyes cast down and your hands raised in supplication.\n\nYou hear a fluttering of wings and a guttural whisper all around the cavern, but you dare not raise your eyes. You stand, humble and patient, accepting of whatever punishment the angels mete out.\n\nBut there is no pain, no ripping of claws through your flesh. You become aware of a pair of talons alighting in front of you, and one of the angels speaks:\n\n''"Who are you, human, that stands before us?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} Give your name]]\n[[{{{>}}} Remain silent]]

You can't talk. You don't have vocal cords.\n\nSince you seem to be a ghost, you could try [[possessing]] this person.

<<if visited("You made it")>>Unfortunately, you can't keep from looking down as you swing your feet towards the pillar, over a featureless blackness whose depths might as well be infinite. And you can't help remembering those terrifying few moments when your upper body was dangling over the chasm, when you barely managed to save yourself.\n\nFear shoots through you.\n\n''Your fingers slip.\n\nYou fall.''<<else>>''You fall.''<<endif>>

You grip the knife and tense your knees, ready to spring out as soon as the hooded figure [[gets close enough]].

You... let yourself be cornered. By someone with more experience and a longer weapon than you have.\n\n''If you're keeping track of all the ways //not// to win a knife fight, this should certainly go on the list.''

Amazingly, you're still alive. You don't even want to think about how high up you are. If your grip slipped now – something you can't avoid thinking about – you'd probably fall to your death.\n\nBut somehow you've managed to reach the ceiling.\n\nLooking up at the topography here is making you dizzy. There are stalactites and weird rock shapes everywhere. You're lucky to have mysterious ambient lighting, however dim: without it you'd have cracked open your skull on one of the pointier outcrops.\n\nIf you climbed up here hoping to do some sort of impressive stalactite-hopping maneuver across the chasm, you're out of luck. Not only do you have no idea which direction the chasm is in anymore, but your arms can hardly even hold you to the pillar by now; they'll never support your full weight. Also, the stalactites look even slipperier than this creepy pillar. (As well as a good deal more conical.)\n\nBut you do see what looks like a [[tunnel]] up above the spire you're clinging to. That might be your escape, if you can reach it.

You stagger off into a dark tunnel, too dazed to pay much attention to where you're going<<if visitedTag("hand")>>. You're dripping blood with every step<<if visitedTag("throat")>>, and you're still having trouble breathing<<endif>><<endif>>.\n\nAfter some time the tunnel forks: you could go [[straight ahead|lower congregation]], or take the tunnel that slopes slightly upward [[to the right]].

Let's see, what have you got in the way of projectiles?\n\n<<if not visited("{{{>}}} You will bring me across the chasm")>>[[{{{>}}} Book of matches]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visitedTag("body") or visited("loot the corpse")>>[[{{{>}}} Ceremonial dagger]]<<else if visited("throw your knife") and not visited("removed it")>>[[{{{>}}} Pocket knife]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visitedTag("body") or visited("loot the corpse")>>[[{{{>}}} Pouch of mysterious occult herbs]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visitedTag("body") or visited("loot the corpse")>>[[{{{>}}} Cat femur]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visitedTag("body") or visited("loot the corpse")>>[[{{{>}}} Sacrificial bowl]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if (visited("take off your shoes") and not visited("bottom of the chasm")) and not visited("{{{>}}} Sock")>>[[{{{>}}} Sock]]\n<<endif>>\s\n[[{{{>}}} Yourself]]

You really don't see how to get up there, but you don't see much choice except to try: you're not sure you could survive climbing back down the pillar. Anyway, there's nothing waiting for you down there except <<if visited("leave them here")>>a pair of shoes and an<<else>>an<<endif>> ominous chasm.\n\nSurprisingly, it's easier than it looks. Getting up high enough is extremely awkward, but once you're there you can see some (almost suspiciously) convenient handholds, with which you can [[swing yourself into the tunnel]]. It feels like a death-defying stunt, but it's really no worse than what you've done already to get up here.

You hurl yourself towards the dagger.\n\n''Your reactions are slowed by oxygen deprivation, while your opponent's are quickened by adrenaline. By the time you get there you're hurling yourself onto the point of the blade, gut-first.''

You pull yourself up onto the bank and take a look around<<if visited("{{{>}}} Ascend literally")>>, realizing as you do so – to your great grief – that your wings have melted away.\n\nYou've<<else>>. You've<<endif>> no way of knowing if you've been here before or not, but either way there isn't any sensible egress on this side of the cavern.\n\nYou eye the chasm dubiously, wondering [[if it will support your weight]] again<<if visited("wings")>>. Otherwise, you could try climbing the odd-looking spires of rock again: you think you would still be able to [[find the angels' nest]], assuming that you're very lucky and this is actually the same place you started out from.<<else if visited("Sliding down") is 0>>. The only other thing you could try would be [[climbing the odd-looking spires of rock]].<<else>>.<<endif>>

''"Do you flee the rift, human?"''\n\n<<if visited("You fall in")>>[[{{{>}}} I have entered the rift]]<<else>>[[{{{>}}} Yes]]<<endif>><<if (not visited("You made it")) and (not visited("You fall in"))>>\n[[{{{>}}} I don't know]]<<endif>>

You push open the heavy door and enter.\n\nYou find yourself in a huge hall at least twice as impressive as the door itself. Elaborate carvings and gold trim cover the walls and arches, and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceilings. The place is lit by candlelight, which flickers both from the chandeliers and from gilded holders on the walls.\n\nNearly everything that does not glitter is black, and even the light of all these candles is somewhat dim and flickering: even with all the gold everywhere, your overall impression of the hall is actually very somber. This impression is heightened when you realize that some of the ornate decorations are actually bone beneath the gold.\n\nThe hall stretches on through a series of arches. Just past the first of these you can see [[two figures robed in black]].

The person is wearing a hooded black robe that completely obscures any distinguishing features. The robe lacks ornamentation, but the paraphernalia hanging from the person's belt looks decidedly occult. It includes an [[ornate ceremonial dagger]], a [[pouch]] that smells strongly of herbal smoke, and what looks like [[the femur of a cat]].\n\nThe person is carrying a [[sacrificial bowl]].\n\n<<if visited("Hide")>>Any attempt to leave your hiding place would definitely be noticed. You could [[stay hidden and watch]] or [[try to talk to them]].<<else>>You could wait and [[see what this person does]], or you could [[attempt communication]].<<endif>>

Chaos erupts in the utter darkness of the cavern before you. The angels screech and scream and caw and hiss, beating their wings like angry hawks. You see nothing but the spots in your eyes, but it //sounds// like someone threw a crazed wildcat into a mews.\n\nWell, they're certainly distracted. This your chance to [[run through the room]], unless you want to <<if visited("throw your knife")>>[[light a match|angels' nest]]<<else>>[[take out your knife]]<<endif>> first.

Elation tangles with the terror in your bones. You've successfully asserted yourself – they're listening to you – they're //subservient// to you. You're aware that your power is incredibly precarious, but it's a rush all the same.\n\nWhat will you ask of the angels?\n\n[[{{{>}}} What is this place?|question]]\n[[{{{>}}} You will take me to the surface]]\n[[{{{>}}} You will bring me across the chasm]]

You can definitely hear occult chanting ahead of you, getting louder and clearer with every step. As you reach the double door at the end of the hall (just as impressive as the one you entered through, if not moreso) you become aware that the door itself is all that's separating you from the chanting.\n\nYou [[push open the door|main congregation]].

But you can't keep your thoughts away from it.\n\nAre you dreaming after all? No, that's impossible. But here you are, suspended in midair, with every part of your body below the neck submerged in inky blackness.\n\n//[[This doesn't make sense]].//

You float within the darkness, a humble servant.\n\n[[You will do as the darkness commands]].

The person is wearing a hooded black robe that completely obscures any distinguishing features.\n\nWhen they see you they hesitate for an instant, then draw an extremely sharp-looking dagger from their belt and rush you. You have no choice but to [[dodge]].

You swim straight ahead into the darkness, expecting to run into the wall of the chasm at any moment.\n\n[[You don't]].

You reach the base of the spire, take a few exhausted breaths, <<if visited("leave them here")>>and – see your shoes, standing neatly at the base of the pillar, just as you left them. You're back where you started.<<else>>and look around.\n\nYou're back in the room with the chasm. You can't tell which side of the chasm you're on now, but a cursory check of your side of it reveals that it doesn't make much difference: either way, there's no other way out of here.<<endif>>\n\nAll that effort, that torturous climb up the spire, all that wandering around and getting lost up there – all for nothing. [[You haven't gotten anywhere]].

You don't even dare breathe, but something about the intensity of their silence informs you that while you can't see the angels in the darkness, they can certainly see you.\n\n<<if visited("throw your knife")>>Last chance to [[light a match|angels' nest]].<<else>>''They approach you in utter silence, and you have nearly convinced yourself that – somehow – they are no longer there by the time you feel their claws slicing through your flesh. The angels don't bother to kill you first: they tear you apart and devour you, piece by piece, while you still live to thrash and fight and listen to the sounds they make as they feed.''<<endif>>

''A pocket knife is not a weapon you can reliably parry with.\n\nYour opponent has a considerably longer reach than you do. If you wait for them to close the distance, they'll kill you before they come in range.''

Finally, a safe place – or at least a place where the gripping strength of your sweaty fingertips on smooth wet stone isn't the only thing between you and certain death. This is certainly a relief.\n\nYou sit down, leaning against the cold stone wall, and take a minute to [[catch your breath]].

A strange noise fills the cavern, guttural and raucous as the screaming of crows. You realize that the angels are laughing.\n\n[[You wonder if you said something wrong]].

//You don't want to die.//\n\nYou struggle desperately to gain altitude, to no avail. You have no control over your fall.\n\nYou could call for help, but the only thing likely to hear you would be the nightmares chasing you down. You're desperate enough to [[try anyway]]: you can't bear the thought of falling to your death.

''Falling through the hole __will__ result in your very painful demise. You were repeatedly warned of this.\n\nYou should really have kept your distance.''

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and run into the flapping-hissing-screeching darkness.\n\nYou collide with wings and feathers and claws. They buffet you from side to side and slice through your clothes and skin; you put it down to blind coincidence, and scramble away before the angels recognize the foreign presence in their midst – you hope.\n\nYou have no idea where you're going. The constant jostling and scrambling and running, and the cacophony of distraught angels in every direction, has served to disorient you even beyond what simple blindness would have done. Not that you have any idea where you //should// be going; you don't even know if this room even //has// another exit, much less where to find it.\n\nEither way, your distraction won't last forever. Already, their screams are taking on a different note. You realize with a pang of fear that even if the angels are as blind as you in the darkness, they //will// find you as soon as they calm down; you simply can't avoid them well enough in the dark to escape their notice.\n\n[[Better think fast]].

You hesitate for a moment and think of speaking, but you're not quite sure what to say, nor do you entirely trust your voice to belie your uncertainty. Better to keep laughing – but no, now that you've paused your laughter would be sure to sound false.\n\nYou stand silent. The angels rustle their feathers, but do not speak.\n\nWhat do you want to say to them?\n\n[[{{{>}}} You will let me pass with impunity]]\n[[{{{>}}} Show me the way out]]\n[[{{{>}}} You dare attack me?]]\n[[{{{>}}} Which of you allowed the light to go out?]]

<<if visited ("yourself")>>You're not quite bored enough to start lighting matches mid-fall. Yet.\n\nCome to think of it, something feels [[really off]] about this fall anyway.<<else>>Uneasily, you put the matchbook away. You don't want to start a fire. Never mind the fact that there's nothing in sight any more combustible than your own skin; any light it could give you would be too small to be much help, and it would almost certainly blind you.\n\nBetter go back to [[trying to find a way across|{{{>}}} Try to find a way across]].<<endif>>

>//"Please don't hurt me!"//\n\nYou drop your knife in a gesture of surrender – it wouldn't do much to even the odds anyway – and prostrate yourself, barely daring to raise your arms in entreaty. You don't have to reach far for tears of panic and remorse: you hope the angels will be moved by them, as you blubber out your apologies.\n\nA guttural murmur whispers through the blackness all around you, accompanied by the rustling of feathers. You almost dare to hope that [[they may be merciful]].

[[A hooded figure approaches your body]].

You lose yourself in the intricacies of your mind, creating without end.\n\n''Though your worlds are complex and your characters deep, there is nothing here but yourself. You can experience nothing that is //new//. There is nothing to anchor you to reality; so you cease to be aware of what reality is, after a while, and merely travel the same circles of your mind unto eternity.''

You're at an awkward angle here and don't have much leverage, but neither does your opponent. You manage to free your throat and take a few wheezing breaths.\n\nYou're still holding on to your opponent's hand: if you [[yank on it]] you might be able to get your knife-hand free, but you could also try to [[push them away]].

The void in your memory, in your mind, is deeply terrifying. It's a rift in your mind, an abyss as deep and black as the slightly more literal chasm you fell into just before you went berserk. You remember the fear of the fall; now you fear falling into this void in your mind, of losing yourself again to the all-consuming rage.\n\nYou stand back from the metaphorical edge. Best not to think about it too much. Best not get too close.\n\nIn front of you are [[three doors]].

Although it's nice not to have to worry about hitting your head on the ceiling, you're not sure you like the way the tunnel is expanding. The dim ambient lighting that's made navigating the cave possible so far seems to be coming from a slight phosphorescence on the walls; if they get [[too far away]] from you you won't be able to see anything but the floor.

Your mind is free and unfettered, and you begin to reshape your thoughts into words. You craft stories from the darkness. They are true, and dark, and beautiful: they run from your mind like birds aflight, full-formed and singing.\n\nIn the darkness, your stories are living and moving. Your kings and your beggars, brought to life by your breath alone – carrying weapons and tools and crowns forged by your hands – play through the scripts you write for them on the stage you built, thinking their actions their own. They do not know of your touch upon their lives. They never realize they are but toys to your mind.\n\n[[You are like unto a god|You can shape it however you wish]].

You bow low and back out of the chamber, thanking the angels profusely for their mercy.\n\nWhen you have left their divine presence you turn, and face the dark tunnels you came from. They all look alike to you<<if visited("drop a sock")>>, and your sock is so far away by now that you doubt if you'll ever find it<<endif>>.\n\nYou have to admit to yourself that you're [[completely lost]].

[[You fall in]].

The cultists stare at you, uncomprehending.\n\nSo do the angels.\n\n''"These are the cultists of the dark god of the rift,"'' they tell you.\n\n[[You should probably have guessed that|address your audience]].

<<if visited("sense")>>None of this is real. //Nothing// is real.\n\nYou're still stuck in a wacky extradimensional space – no longer floating or swimming, but sitting – and no way to break out. Maybe you're imagining the angels, but that doesn't mean they can't hurt you. The wounds they've already left on you still sting, after all.\n\nYour hysteria is the scum floating on a deep well of hopeless despair, and it's threatening to drag you down and drown you. You take a deep breath and clamp down on the panic, forcing it to submit. This is no time to be falling apart. What you need to do is figure out how to [[break out]] of this space.<<else>>If you are still in the chasm – still in the darkness – and yes, you are, you //must// be – there is nothing but darkness all around you – even the floor is dark, absent of the mysterious ambient lighting that has helped you find your way through the tunnels – did you imagine that faint light? Was it ever real?\n\nIn the darkness <<if visited("{{{>}}} Fiction")>>you were like unto a god<<else if visited("{{{>}}} Beauty")>>you could create such beauty without restriction<<else if visited("{{{>}}} Weapons")>>your power was limitless<<else>>you had the power to craft wings<<endif>>. You flew – you bore yourself up out of the chasm (you thought) under your own power.\n\nIf you are still there – if your wings and your flight and the journey up the pillar and through the dimly lit tunnels were all just a trick of your mind – then that power, too, was imagined.\n\nNo. No, that cannot be. You lost your wings when you rose out of the darkness, and that cannot have been a trick. [[This darkness must be different]].<<endif>>

<<if visited("You made it")>>Your hands are sweating – you're still coming down from your close encounter with the chasm – but given how slippery the stone is anyway, that doesn't really make much difference.\n\n<<endif>>\s\nThe stone holds, and you manage to find a grip on the lumpy snake-spirals despite their slickness. Your feet present a bigger problem. After a few harrowing seconds of scrabbling against the wet stone, you realize this isn't going to work unless you [[take off your shoes]].

Before you can think of struggling, the cultists have laid their daggers against your throat: any movement will kill you.\n\nThey proceed to blindfold you, strip you, and lead you out of the hall: half dragging you by the wrists, half pushing you with the daggers.\n\nYou don't know where they take you, but you soon find yourself strung up by the wrists, blind, while people with //very// sharp blades carve occult symbols into your naked skin.\n\n''There you will remain until you repent of your insolence, and longer, should the whim of the dark god not be merciful.''

You'd better keep moving.\n\nThe tunnel goes on in two directions. Will you take the [[upward]] slope or the [[downward]] one?

<<if visited("{{{>}}} I come to serve")>>''"If you would join the humans who serve below, you must first stand alone before the dark god, and be judged. You must enter the rift."''<<else>>''"Enter the rift and be judged, human."''<<endif>>\n\n<<if visited("You fall in")>>[[{{{>}}} I have entered the rift]]<<else>>A pair of angels grab your arms and rise into the air. Your stomach rises in your throat as you're carried along, dizzy and a little nauseous, intensely aware of the long black claws pressing into your skin.\n\nThey carry you swiftly through the tunnels, back through the ceiling/floor hole you came up through, back to the cavern you woke up in: they carry you over the chasm, and there they let go.\n\n[[You fall in]].<<endif>>

You remove your shoes and stuff your socks into your pockets. There's no way you can safely take your shoes with you and climb; you'll have to [[leave them here]].<<if (visited("You made it") is 0) and (visited("choose a side") is 0)>>\n\nUnless you feel like [[throwing them into the abyss]].<<endif>>

''"The rift is the dwelling-place of our god. Those who enter the rift may commune with our god, and may be tested for their worthiness to serve; and if they are not found worthy they may be absorbed as a sacrifice. The rift is holy, and we are its keepers."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

Your fear gives you wings.\n\nYou fall, faster than before, certain still that something is chasing you, gaining on you. Skeletal hands claw at your back. Something snarls at you from the darkness. All the nightmares that held you dear when you were a child lie in wait, lurking, crooning to you. You can't see them, but you can hear them sharpening their teeth.\n\n[[You fall faster]].

''If you don't have a deathwish, maybe you shouldn't be following //recipes for certain death.//''

There's nothing else here, at the bottom of the chasm, except a desiccated pile of skeletons that must have found the fall as fatal as you did<<if visited("throwing them into the abyss")>>. Well, and your shoes; but they won't fit you anymore. Your new body seems to be wearing something on its feet already, anyway<<endif>>.\n\nYou leave by way of [[the only passage you see]].

You check your pockets for a weapon. You find a [[book of matches]] and a [[small knife]].

You're having serious trouble breathing. Black spots dance in front of your eyes.\n\nThis is a really uncomfortable position, even aside from the life-threatening choke-hold on your throat, but you've still got one arm and most of your body free. You could [[roll over]] or [[try to sit up]], or you could try to [[pry your opponent's fingers from your neck]].

[[{{{>}}} Fight defensively]]\n[[{{{>}}} Fight offensively]]\n[[{{{>}}} Fight evasively]]\n[[{{{>}}} Take a crazy risk|either("success", "failure")]]

You can feel the intensity of the angels' eyes on you.\n\nOne speaks: ''"You stood the test of <<if visited("euphoria")>>power<<else>>reason<<endif>>, and sought to escape the rift.\n\n<<if visited("euphoria")>>You might have had power. You might have lived to join our ranks, mortal: you might have served the dark god of the rift as an angel. But you chose to escape.<<else>>You might have discovered the secrets of the rift, if you had but delved deeper. Though the mysteries of the dark god are beyond any comprehension, yet you might have found some sense in them; you might have found the boundaries of the rift. But you chose to escape.<<endif>>\n\nWe judge you, mortal. [[You are one who runs from the dark]]."

You speak your name with all due deference.\n\n''"You are not garbed as the humans who serve below. Wherefore have you come here?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} I lost my way]]\n[[{{{>}}} I came seeking daylight]]\n[[{{{>}}} I came seeking an escape from these caves]]\n[[{{{>}}} I come to serve]]

You stab at the hooded figure; the hooded figure stabs at you.\n\nResult: you sustain a nasty cut to your hand; the long dagger goes flying; your knife doesn't.\n\nThe hooded figure immediately grabs the wrist of your knife-arm with one hand, keeping it pinned above your head, and [[your throat]] with the other.

>//"It wasn't."//\n\nYou hesitate, and the angels don't respond. You can feel your audience slipping. Better lay it on thicker:\n\n>//"It was your own negligence that allowed it to go out! What do you have to say for yourselves?"//\n\nYou [[hope]] that the rustling you hear is the angels shuffling around in embarrassment.

You scream for help and claw desperately at the air above you, grasping at whatever you can reach.\n\nSomething catches your hand. It feels like <<print either("the slavering maw of a wolf", "several forelegs of a spider bigger than you are", "a giant pair of mandibles", "the inside of a slug", "a desiccated human hand", "the icy claws of a ghost", "a huge swathe of sticky cobwebs", "the hand of a child, only without the skin")>>.\n\nYou shudder, curl up your legs, squeeze your eyes shut against the darkness. You can't bite back a soft whimper. [[But you don't let go]]. //You must not fall.//

The figure on the right holds a small pouch aloft and begins to pour a fine sand from it onto the other side of the scales.\n\nThe figure on the left speaks: ''"You put light into the darkness. You sought to know the infinite. You sought boundaries: and you found them. In seeking boundaries you created them, and so found your path through the rift.\n\nYour hunger pleases the dark god of the rift. Know that you may never know the true depth of the darkness; but know that there will always be more to find. Know that the darkness is everything and nothing. Know that the darkness is eternal.\n\nYou may join our number, comrade."''\n\n[[The scales are balanced]], although it took quite a heap of the fine sand to weigh out your blood and hair.

>//"Which of you allowed the light to go out?"//\n\nYou try to imbue your voice with a righteous anger, hoping desperately that the angels won't hear the pounding of your heart.\n\nYou're gratified to hear an argument break out nearby, punctuated by hisses and caws. You've managed to spread dissent, at least. As long as the angels are bickering amongst themselves, rather than unified against you, you're coming out ahead.\n\nYou're still more gratified to hear the shameful tremor in an angel's voice, when one finally speaks in words you can understand: ''"We thought it was you who destroyed the light?"'' It doesn't quite dare to be a question, but it has aspirations.\n\n[[{{{>}}} It was]]\n[[{{{>}}} It wasn't]]\n[[{{{>}}} Is that your excuse for this poor welcome?]]

There are hands around your throat, squeezing your windpipe shut. There's a knee digging into your ribs. You can't see much except black cloth.\n\nYou struggle. You can move your head enough to [[bite]] your opponent, and your hands are also free: you could try to [[pry your opponent's fingers off your neck]]. You might also be able reach your [[pockets]].

The altar is huge, and black, and covered in various occult items. There are candles standing on it – //lit// candles; apparently cultists pass by it fairly frequently. There are also several bones, and some other items too miscellaneous to identify in passing.\n\n<<if visited("follow the figure")>>The hooded figure kneels at the altar, sprinkles some probably-occult herbs into your blood, and //sets the mixture on fire//. Against all reason, it actually catches flame.\n\nAlthough you have no flesh to feel with, [[you feel like you're burning]].<<else if visited("trance")>>You kneel at the altar and pray.\n\nYou commune with the dark god of the rift. [[It demands a sacrifice]].<<else>>Unless you fancy converting to whatever wacky religion the black-robed cultists follow, there's nothing you can – or //want// to – do with the altar<<if previous() is "The door on the left">>. You could still turn back and go through [[the middle door|The middle door]] or [[the door on the right|The door on the right]], or you could [[move on downwards]]<<else>>. Unless you want to [[go back the other way|lower congregation]], you'll have to [[move on upwards]]<<endif>>.<<endif>>

You're pretty sure this pouch contains some sort of herbs. Probably something with mystical significance.\n\n<<if visited("You're glad you never heard their voice")>>You don't see how this is going to be useful to you, but you [[take it with you|You're glad you never heard their voice]] anyway.<<else>>What are you going to do about [[the hooded figure|A hooded figure approaches your body]]?<<endif>>

You're lying cross-legged on your back, waving a knife around above your head, unable to see anything, and trying to single-handedly fend off a host of wrathful angels.\n\nSomething about this situation strikes you as ridiculous: that's probably the [[hysteria]] welling up in you as you realize that you have //absolutely no chance// of surviving.

You take full possession of the cultist's mind.\n\nCongratulations! You now have a snazzy new body, a snazzy new featureless black robe, and a snazzy new inventory of occult paraphernalia. This is all you ever wanted from life, I'm sure.\n\nYou take a moment to [[rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change]].

''Predictably, your foot slips. Your left leg slides abruptly downwards while the right shoots off to the side, which would be quite painful even if you didn't crack your head violently against the ceiling in the struggle to keep your footing. A struggle, incidentally, which you lose.\n\nYou land in a battered bloody heap at the base of the slope. Perhaps you didn't literally break your neck, but with several sprained or broken bones, massive head trauma, and a surprising amount of blood loss, you might as well have.''

<<if not visited("{{{>}}} Ascend literally")>>You swim for a long time, and with no way to measure your progress you start to worry that you're not getting anywhere – until your head finally breaks the surface of the blackness, and you can see the mysterious dim phosphorescence of the cavern again. You're back where you started, and you're suddenly very aware that your weight is being held up by //nothing at all//.\n\nThis is all incredibly impossible, but your mind shies away from examining the impossibility. Deep within you is a terror that if you [[think about it too much]], you'll fall.\n\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visited("leave them here") or visited("it goes out")>><<if visited("leave them here")>>You can see your shoes at the base of a spire on one side of the chasm: that's where you started out<<else if visited("it goes out")>>You scour the banks for clues, and find a single burnt-out match on one side of the chasm<<endif>>. You [[choose the other side]].<<else>>You wish you had some way to be sure which side you came from. You'll have to take a wild guess.\n\nYou can go [[right|choose a side]] or [[left|choose the other side]].<<endif>>

<<if visited("take in your surroundings")>>You drop the matchbook into the ball. It is swallowed with a faint hissing sound.\n\nThe ball [[explodes in light]].<<else>>At this distance?\n\nWell, it's [[worth a try]].<<endif>>

A few guttural whispers pass through the darkness, and suddenly they erupt into screams. You bite back a reaction of fear. //You are in control here//; you can't forget that, can't let your façade of power slip.\n\nA voice from the darkness: ''"Who are you that comes sneaking into our nest just as the light dies? Who are you to accuse us of negligence? //Liar!//"''\n\n''No façade of power is a match for critical thinking. The angels have called your bluff.''

It's a huge relief not to be actively strangled anymore, but you're still having trouble breathing. You cough and wheeze, grateful for any oxygen that manages to get past your throat.\n\nYour head feels light and there are spots in your vision, but you [[force yourself to your feet]], aware that your opponent is doing the <<if visited("stab wildly")>>same despite multiple stab wounds<<else>>same<<endif>>.

You can feel the dark god of the rift all around you, pulsing at the edges of the circle of light cast by the fire and candles on the altar. You can feel the dark god absorbing the smoke that curls up from your burning blood, feeding on your essence.\n\nYou are pulled into the being of the dark god.\n\n''The dark god of the rift takes strength from your blood, from your body, from your death; and you are become one with it. Though you have no more will – nor even thought – of your own, you will survive forever as a part of the whole, as a single drop of shadow in the darkness.\n\nYou have <<if visited("trance")>>given yourself over<<else>>been given over<<endif>> to the dark god of the rift.''

Something small, slightly squishy, rectangular – wait, is this your matchbook?\n\nIt //[[is]]//.

The other cultists on the altar move to attack you: the angels move to defend you.\n\nYou have only a moment in which to act.\n\nYour attention is drawn again by the orb of darkness in the center of the altar: you have the feeling that it's the most important thing here. You're not quite sure what to do with it, though. The only thing you can think of is to [[throw something at it]].

With no visual cues, every stretch of darkness looks the same. You really have no idea how long you could be falling, and as the sudden stop at the end continues not to come for quite some time you begin to be – though you hate to admit it – bored.\n\nMaybe it's just the adrenaline talking, but you can't stand the idea of falling through a total absence of stimulus forever. If you can't interact with the environment you'll just have to see what you can do with [[yourself]].

''You have a massive mechanical disadvantage here. You're lying on your back, with elbows bent<<if visited("Sliding down")>>, and you're already badly weakened from all that climbing you did earlier<<endif>>. Your opponent is on top of you, with the full force of both arms around your throat. There's pretty much no way you can win by attacking them with your bare hands from this position, regardless of whether you're actually hitting them or just trying to free your windpipe.''

There's no way you can climb back up that pillar. Your arms hurt enough as it is.\n\nThe only place you can possibly go is [[the chasm]].\n\nYou can't believe you're considering this.

''If there isn't another world, we don't know what he'll do with you.''

The nightmare lurking in the darkness draws you closer. Your fear begets a violent nausea: you have to fight back the urge to vomit.\n\nIt takes you like a wave, blocking out your thoughts and your hearing and, at last, your sense of touch; your mind rebels against this reality, taking refuge in the shelter of oblivion. Whether it's a coma you fall into or mere catatonia, you cease to be aware of [[where you are]].

The room is filled with boxes of what looks like miscellaneous occult paraphernalia. All of it is dusty, and some of it obviously broken. You don't think it's worth your time to sort through the boxes in search of swag worth keeping.\n\n<<if visited("Keep pushing")>>In one corner of the room, you see a square hole in the ceiling that might be some sort of exit. You can't climb through it wearing this robe, though, and you're not keen on giving up this disguise.\n\nThere are also a great many hooded black robes stored here. You certainly have no need of those. Better see what's behind [[the middle door|The middle door]] or head back through [[the door on the left|The door on the left]].<<else if visited("trance")>>There are also a great many hooded black robes stored here. You [[help yourself to one|helping yourself to one]].<<else>>In one corner of the room, you see a square hole in the ceiling that might be some sort of exit. With a little effort you could probably [[climb through it]].\n\nThere are also a great many hooded black robes stored here. You consider [[helping yourself to one]]; it might be useful to have some sort of disguise. If you don't want to poke through the dust, though, you could always go back and head through [[the middle door|The middle door]] or [[the door on the left|The door on the left]].<<endif>>

Your god has given you the knowledge of where to find a disguise.\n\nYou go back the way you came, back to the three doors. You have just left the leftmost door; now you take [[the door on the right|The door on the right]].

Your knife hits home, by random chance, once – twice – thrice – and each time the angels scream in pain and flap wildly with their wings. You take twice that many hits yourself, but they're minor wounds only: pain gives you a target, a direction to stab in.\n\nAnd then – they stop coming. You wonder if they are actually //afraid// of your little knife.\n\nThen, maybe they're just developing a better strategy. That seems likely: if //you// were one of the angels, and if you could see in darkness – that seems likely, given their numbers and the silence of their approach – you'd be thinking of going for your feet right about now.\n\nYou take the precaution of [[tucking them in]].

You find yourself on a narrow ledge, apparently halfway down the side of the chasm. You stay well away from the edge.\n\nYou have just emerged from the leftmost of [[three doors]].

You charge. Your opponent may be stronger than you are at the moment, seeing as you were just strangled half to death and they weren't, but you have a knife and they don't. This gives you a clear advantage.\n\nYour opponent hits and kicks and scratches at you. They land several blows, but so do you, and yours are considerably more effective. Eventually the hooded figure succumbs to blood loss and falls.\n\nYou [[back away]], panting and wheezing.

The darkness is everything. It is greater than all the secrets it holds – and they are many. The darkness is everything.\n\nThe darkness surrounds you. Within it is everything and nothing. You see nothing. You feel nothing. You feel everything.\n\nThe darkness is everything and nothing. You breathe the darkness, and it flows through your veins. You see the darkness, and it shows you the way. The darkness is everything.\n\n[[The darkness is calling you]].

''Your last moments are given over to relief. You see death before you, and fall eagerly towards it. You'll die, yes, but in death you'll find an escape.\n\n//It will be worth it.//''

Climbing the spire certainly isn't any easier the second time, but you are eager to see the angels again. Somehow, you manage.\n\nLucky – this all looks the same; you //were// in the same place you started from. You follow the path you remember – confusing though the tunnels are – until you find the light again, and follow it to the angels' nest. Again, you enter in deference. Again, they alight all around you.\n\nAgain, one speaks: ''"What do you seek here?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} I have entered the rift]]

[[Rise, servant of the darkness]].

You issue a loud roar and run forwards, waving your knife, hoping to startle them into leaving you alone until you can escape.\n\nUnfortunately, you have no idea where the exit is.\n\n''Maybe the angels are frightened by your unpredictability, or maybe they're amused by the way you make a fool of yourself by running around in darkness and stabbing blindly at the air; but their fear/amusement has a limited duration, and you've no hope of accomplishing anything useful in that time.''

The ceremonial dagger may be sharp and beautiful and wonderful and pretty much better than your old pocket knife in every way, but it is //not// balanced for throwing<<if visitedTag("hand")>>, especially with an injured dominant hand<<endif>>.\n\n''You accidentally hit a fellow cultist in the back. The black-robed figures turn on you, and soon enough you join the naked and blindfolded sacrifices that hang above the altar. In an act of poetic justice, the cultists who carve the weird symbols into your skin let you know that they're using your own dagger for the job.''

You follow a dark tunnel. You find that you can see just barely enough to find your way, although you aren't cognisant of any actual light source.\n\nAfter some time the tunnel forks: you could either go [[straight ahead|lower congregation]] or take the tunnel that slopes slightly upwards [[to the right]].

You search your pockets to reveal a striking absence of rope. You do, however, discover a [[book of matches]] and a [[small knife]].\n\nThe chasm is too wide to cross without a rope (and, for best results, a grappling hook), but perhaps you could try [[climbing the odd-looking spires of rock]] on your side of the chasm.

''You fall.\n\nAnd fall.\n\nAnd fall.\n\nYou flail against the blackness, trying in vain to make it support you again, trying to pretend that it's water.\n\nIt doesn't help.''

You find a boulder large enough to hide you and cower behind it, trying to breathe evenly so you don't make as much noise<<if visited("throwing them into the abyss")>>. You're glad you grabbed your shoes; whoever's coming would definitely be suspicious if they saw them<<endif>>.\n\nNot being able to see the owner of the footsteps makes you nervous. [[Peer over the boulder|A hooded figure approaches your body]] or just [[wait and listen]]?

You turn the sacrificial bowl upside down and throw it like a frisbee.\n\n<<if visitedTag("hand")>>Or you try, anyway. The big cut on your hand //really// hurts, and it doesn't take too well to the strain of actually throwing something. Your<<else>>Unfortunately, the shape is all wrong for a frisbee. It flies surprisingly far, but your<<endif>> aim is way off: you hit another cultist in the back of the head.\n\nThey're none too pleased by this.\n\n''The hooded masses turn on you. Each of them carries a dagger as sharp and as deadly as your own.''

''But merciful they are not. You have offended the angels beyond measure, and they are not impressed by your blubbering.\n\nBe thankful that you need not look on their horrid countenances as they tear you apart. In that respect, at least, blindness is preferable to light.''

You can't get very far without it, that's for certain.\n\nYou don't have a body to move. You can shift your consciousness – the focus of your observation – a little bit, but it looks like you have to stay within a certain range of your mortal husk.\n\nThere's not much you can do here except [[wait]].

<<if visited("find a weapon")>>You //suppose// you could try [[lighting a match]] as a distraction, or in an attempt to blind the hooded figure, but maybe it would be better to focus on the [[knife|small knife]].<<else if visited("rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change") and (visited() is 1)>>You're not sure why you were carrying these, but they may come in handy. You pocket them just in case.\n\nCan you [[lift anything else from your corpse|rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change]]?<<else if visited("rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change")>>The matches haven't changed since you last examined them.\n\nThey may come in handy; you pocket them, just in case.\n\nCan you [[lift anything else from your corpse|rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change]]?<<else if visited() is 1>>You don't feel any particular craving for tobacco, nor is there a smell of smoke (tobacco or otherwise) clinging to your clothing or hair; by these signs you judge that you're not a smoker.\n\nYou're not sure why you're carrying these.\n\nLight one? [[Y|Light a match]]/[[N|Don't light it]]<<else>>The matches haven't changed <<if visited("yourself")>>since you last<<else>>in the two seconds since you<<endif>> examined them.\n\nLight one after all? [[Y|Light a match]]/[[N|Don't light it]]<<endif>>

''You, too, will be a sacrifice to the dark god of the rift. There's no way to dodge all this weaponry in the air.''

It's a shame you don't have a nice sacrificial bowl on your person. You find something usable among the miscellaneous items on the altar, though: a shallow little bowl made of what looks like silver.\n\nUsing your pocket knife, you nick your finger – the trick is to cut fast – and bleed a few drops into the bowl, and then add a lock of your hair. You feel like the mixture could use a few occult herbs, and root through the items on the altar again, but the best you find is a bouquet of wilted-to-dryness flowers.\n\nBetter than nothing: you crumble them into the bowl and set it on fire. Amazingly, [[it actually catches flame|you feel like you're burning]].

The Dark Rift

''The cold ground beneath your feet may be solid stone, but it is also wet with mineral drip. You don't really think these things through, do you?\n\nMaybe your attempts to cut through solid rock confuse the angels temporarily, but they don't give them a reason not to attack you.''

Impossible. You've never had a lucid dream. By mere virtue of the fact that you're wondering if you might be dreaming, you've proven to yourself that you aren't.\n\nYou no longer feel like you're falling: rather, you're floating, suspended in semi-liquid but breathable blackness. You still can't see anything, though.\n\nYou could [[light a match|if you insist]], or you could just pick a direction and start swimming: [[up]]/[[down]]/[[straight ahead]]

In your pocket you find a [[small knife]] and a book of [[matches|if you insist]].

The tunnel opens out onto – you can't quite see what, because you're not going to go rushing in. The space ahead of you is filled with <<if visited("wings")>>angels<<else>>monstrous creatures that remind you of harpies at first, and then of angels, dark and terrible<<endif>>. You are certain that you would be torn apart if they noticed you.\n\nNothing for it, though: you don't expect there's any disguise anywhere that would fool these things. You'll just have to [[creep up carefully]].

You knock the dagger out of your opponent's hand. It goes spinning. Out of sight, out of mind; it's probably buried in skeletons by now.\n\nYour hand is bleeding profusely. You must have nicked it on the blade.\n\nThe move also unbalanced you a little, and your opponent takes advantage of that to [[wrestle you down]].

The disadvantage of standing in the crowd is that it's harder to see around all the hooded black heads in front of you. All the same, you manage to get a decent look at your surroundings.\n\nThe place you're in is a huge, huge, //huge// cavern. The crowded surface you're on is only one of many surfaces all along the walls of the cavern, all of which are equally crowded. The floor – far below you – is a single sea of hooded black.\n\nFarther up the hooded black robes are replaced by <<if visited("wings")>>angels<<else>>what look like angels, although there's something odd – menacing, uncanny – about their appearance. You're not close enough to be sure of details<<endif>>. Above even them, the ceiling of the cavern is taken up by a deep, impenetrable darkness that [[draws your eyes]].\n\nThere's also a [[huge altar]] somewhat nearby, above you. You could probably make your way there if you really tried.

''It won't.''

Running now would only attract their attention, and you really don't want to do that knowing that there's a //very// sharp-looking dagger in their hand. You [[hope your hiding place is good enough]].\n\nIf you [[attacked the hooded figure]] on your own initiative, you'd at least have the element of surprise.

Somehow, you're still alive.\n\nYou collapse at the base of a nearby rock spire and try to catch your breath. That was //terrifying//. There's no way you're stepping within a meter or two of that chasm again.\n\n<<if visited("climb") is 0>>Honestly, the idea of heights makes you dizzy, especially after that experience. But you don't see any other way out of here than to try to [[climb the spire|climbing the odd-looking spires of rock]].\n\nYou wonder how you managed to get here in the first place. Unfortunately, your memory is too muddled to provide you with any answers.<<else>>You'd better get back to [[climbing that spire|climb again]].<<endif>>

When you return to your senses you find yourself lying on solid ground, alone, curled into a fetal position.\n\nYou cautiously unfurl your limbs and take stock of your surroundings. You're lying on a broad ledge, presumably midway down one wall of the chasm; you don't dare approach the abyss again. In front of you are [[three doors]].

The tunnel that slopes steeply upwards is ridged in a way that almost resembles stairs, but the lumpy, uneven, organic shape of it and the moisture that clings to the stone make it difficult to keep your footing. Between the low ceiling and the slippery floor, it's probably easier to use the ridges as a [[ladder]] rather than stairs.\n\nYour bare feet are freezing.

You go back and examine the chasm more closely.\n\nIt is about as wide as you are tall, at the narrowest point you can reach from here: certainly too wide to leap. You have no frame of reference with which to judge its depth. Everything you can see is total blackness.\n\n[[The darkness seems to be calling you.|the chasm]]

Something brushes across your face, trailing softly across your cheeks like a cobweb.\n\nSomething curls around your ankle, creeping up your leg even as you fall.\n\nSomething scuttles across your arm.\n\nYou don't scream again; [[you're afraid to open your mouth]].

Your powers are infinite, and your wings are the symbol of that power. You are [[no longer human]], and you realize with faint amusement that this pleases you.

It begins as a giggle – mirthless, but insuppressible – and grows through chortles and chuckles right down into full-throated laughter. You find yourself shaking with it, unable to breathe – your ribs //hurt// from this, but you're unable to stop. You don't lose your grip on the knife, but you lose control over the arm holding it up, and you find yourself rolling around on the floor in completely misplaced amusement, clinging to the open knife as though to a toy.\n\nIt would appear that you have quite completely [[snapped]]. Don't blame yourself; the darkness and the overload of adrenaline and the prospect of immediate and very painful death at the monstrously uncanny claw-hands of the harpy-angels would be enough to drive anyone mad.

You're making good headway against the crowd of enraged angels. Your sense of direction is a bit confused by all the stabbing and dodging and the fury of sounds all around you, but by your reckoning you should be close to the middle of the cavern now.\n\nYou're tempted to duck down and [[search the floor]] for your matchbook, as well as you can by feel – the total darkness all around you has thrown the general desirability of a light source into sharp relief. But staying in one place for too long isn't a good way to avoid notice. If you were to [[keep moving]] you could probably make it to the opposite wall of the cavern, and maybe, hopefully, you'd be able to find an exit there.

The door squeaks something awful as you push it open. Beyond it is dusty darkness; you light a match to reveal some dangerously high piles of clutter. There's a candle stub stuck in a holder near the door, which you [[manage to light]] before your match burns out.

...Empty-handed? [[Y|jumped out]]/[[N|find a weapon]]

You lean into an awkward 45° angle and climb the tunnel with your hands and feet. It's not particularly easy, especially since your arms still hurt from climbing the pillar. At least the exercise is keeping you warm, despite the constant contact of cold wet stone on your hands and feet.\n\nThe tunnel levels out into a fork. You could go [[right]] or [[left]].

You'll put the wacky extradimensional space theory to the test.\n\nYou turn your body by 90°, as near as you can tell with no visual cues to judge by, and [[make for the chasm's wall]].

The wings rustle ominously.\n\n''"What were you seeking here?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} I came seeking daylight]]\n[[{{{>}}} I came seeking an escape from these caves]]\n[[{{{>}}} I sought a way to cross the chasm]]

You can see your body lying on the floor in a pool of blood. You're no longer occupying it.\n\nYou're not sure what you //are// occupying. You can neither see nor feel yourself, but you can still think.\n\n[[You wonder if you can leave your body]].

You nervously eye the hole through which you entered the tunnel<<if visited("leave them here")>>. Maybe you shouldn't have marked the spire you climbed with your shoes. The idea of a rescue party is laughable anyway<<endif>>.\n\nHow did you even get here? You wish your memory were a little bit more cooperative.\n\nThis hole in the ceiling is the only entrance or exit you've seen to the place where you started, aside from the chasm. You wonder briefly if you fell through it – somehow – and landed down below, but you'd probably be dead in that case. Or at least a bit battered.\n\nYou'd better [[keep well away from the hole]], in any case. You don't want to risk [[falling]].

>//"Of course not! What do you take me for?"//\n\nA louder rustle and a guttural whisper through the darkness. One answers in a surer voice:\n\n''"One who comes sneaking into our nest just as the light is destroyed! An intruder, a heretic, and a liar!"''\n\n''No façade of power is a match for critical thinking. The angels have called your bluff.''

In a detached way, you consider [[looting the corpse|loot the corpse]]; what's done is done, and you're stuck at the bottom of a chasm with nothing but a dead body, a book of matches and a murder weapon. Maybe you could get something useful from their body.\n\nBut the thought of touching them makes your stomach turn. You really just want to [[get out of here]].

You turn your back to the floor and keep your knife ready to stab at the first sound you hear.\n\nUnfortunately, the angels approach you in utter silence. You don't realize how immediate your peril is until one actually takes a piece out of your leg. Not a very big or important piece, fortunately, but having it removed is nonetheless extremely painful.\n\nNothing for it but to kick and thrash with your legs and [[wave your knife wildly about]] in front of your face, putting up the best defense feasible in blindness.

[[Are those footsteps?|Are those footsteps]]

A skeleton wearing a cloak the color of night steps out of the shadows. He greets you silently, and indicates that you should come with him.\n\n''The skeleton draws your consciousness into the shadows of his cloak. He will take you to the next world, if there is one.''\n\n[[{{{>}}}|if there is one]]

You try to focus your consciousness on a point inside the hooded figure's skull.\n\nSuccess, of a sort: you can feel their thoughts brushing against yours, though what you //can't// do is actually listen in on them. But the feel of them changes after a few seconds, and you realize that the person has become [[aware of your presence]].

You pat your pockets, feeling ridiculous as you do so. //Is this really any way to fall down an ominous chasm in a mysterious cave?// you ask yourself. You don't answer yourself, though.\n\nThe only things you've got on you are a [[book of matches]] and a [[small knife]].

. . .\n\nYou open your eyes.\n\nYou are surrounded by darkness. A cold wind is blowing past you, tugging gently at your hair and clothes.\n\nIn front of you is a deep chasm.\n\n[[{{{>}}} Jump in|the chasm]]\n[[{{{>}}} Turn back]]\n[[{{{>}}} Try to find a way across]]

These little passages all look alike. You can't see any way to distinguish between them without a map – and you don't have the tools to draw one. Even if you drop your <<if visited("drop a sock")>>remaining sock as a marker<<else>>socks as markers<<endif>>, you'll be [[completely lost]] within a few minutes.\n\nYou could still [[turn back]].

You find yourself in a largish tunnel. Various smaller tunnels exit from it in every direction; you ignore them. Better to stick with this main one if you have any hope of not getting lost.\n\nAhead of you is a definite sound of chanting. You [[make your way towards it|upper congregation]].

You feel vaguely sick.\n\nYou had no choice. It was self-defense. It was kill or be killed.\n\nKnowing that doesn't stop the bile from rising in your damaged throat, though. You didn't really think you were capable of killing someone, no matter the situation.\n\nYour opponent might have had some useful items; some detached part of you thinks it might be advisable to [[loot the corpse]]. On the other hand, doing so would be a further irreverence to someone you've just killed, and the thought of touching the body again unnerves you. You kind of want to just [[get out of here]].

''You wander aimlessly through the tunnels until your strength gives out.\n\nYou're cold. You're hungry. You're thirsty. And you're so, so tired. Your only consolation, as you slump against the wall for your final rest, is that you <<if visited("{{{>}}} Thank you")>>were able to see the angels once before you died.<<else>>haven't encountered anything else in these tunnels. The things that built them must be long gone.<<endif>>''\n\n[[{{{>}}}|footsteps]]

You roll over in the only direction you can, pinning your opponent's arm under your neck. The move unbalances them and forces them to loosen your grip; you wrestle them off of you, barely managing to free yourself and [[roll away]].

''It turns out that there are advantages to loose-fitting, flowing robes. It's no plate armor, but you don't get anything but cloth between your teeth. Having your mouth full of robe makes you suffocate //more// quickly, if anything.''

At the sound of your voice the hooded figure spins around and lunges at you, drawing their dagger. You're caught completely off guard.\n\n''Looks like they weren't interested in talking.''

You feel weightless as you fall: weightless and free. The wind whistles in your ears as it blows past you, and you revel in it.\n\nAll you can see is blackness – no limits, no boundaries. Maybe it's just adrenaline rushing through you, but [[you feel like you're flying]].

You stand. You find yourself standing solidly on the ground, without the fall ever having ended.\n\n[[You know where to go]].

You wait for the opportune moment, then rush the figure while their back is turned. They fall [[without so much as a scream]].

You fight against the god's influence. But the god fights back, with a god's power: your body is changing again; the darkness is suffocating you, squeezing around your ribs like an iron band; you are choking on emptiness; your pulse is pounding in your head, beating to the will of the dark god.\n\nYou try to fight, but [[all your power has withered]].

This looks familiar, you think. The tunnel heads steeply downwards, and is ridged in a way that loosely resembles a ladder or stairs.\n\nBetween the low ceiling and the uneven, slippery floor, you'd probably [[break your neck]] if you tried going down this tunnel forwards. Instead you turn around and [[climb down]] it like a ladder.

You craft wings from the darkness.\n\nThey erupt from your shoulders in a glorious fury of feathers: invisible, but there is no doubt in your mind as to their reality. You can feel your strength surging through them as they beat. They will carry you [[whithersoever you wish]].

You duck down and pat your hands along the floor. Down here you don't have to worry about wings and claws, at least, though the same can't be said for the angels' talons.\n\nYou're desperately aware that this isn't a good place to be. Not for long, anyway. You move as quickly as you can, trying to cover as much ground as possible, clinging desperately to the frail vestiges of your sense of direction.\n\n[[What's this you feel beneath your hand]]?

''"As you will."''\n\nThe voice doesn't sound entirely content, but it doesn't quite dare to question you, either.\n\nSomething grabs at you from the darkness: the angels have taken you by the wrists, and they fly out of the utter blackness of the chasm and through the gloom of the caverns. They take you through a floor/ceiling hole, back to the room with the chasm; there they drop you.\n\nYou land hard. While you get your wind back the angels fly off again, abandoning you to your fate.\n\nBetter [[take your bearings]].

You manage to get onto the pillar, but you're pretty much at your limit. There's only so much your body can handle – not to speak of your nerves.\n\n[[Sliding down]] the pillar is a lot easier than climbing up it, at least.

The tunnel twists upwards in a snaky, complicated sort of way. You're aware of occasional dripping sounds.\n\nEventually <<if visited("follow the figure")>>the figure reaches<<else>>you reach<<endif>> what looks like an [[altar]] in the darkness.

You're a killer. A //murderer//.\n\nYou tell yourself that the recently-alive person had been searching for you, had had a dagger ready, would have killed you if you hadn't killed them first. You did what you had to to stay alive. You had no choice.\n\nBut what proof of that do you have, really? Maybe they were just being cautious. What reason could they have had to suspect you were hiding somewhere?\n\nAnd [[you stabbed them in the back]].

The tunnel keeps twisting and turning and forking. You soon find yourself almost completely lost: there's no way you'd be able to [[find your way back|completely lost]] anymore.\n\nBut you can keep following the light. At every turn, it grows a little brighter. At every fork, you take the brighter passage. The tunnels keeping sloping upwards: maybe, if you're really lucky, you'll [[find your way out]].

Oh well. Not your problem if it does, even if the piles of robes //are// a fire trap.\n\nYou find yourself in a very small tunnel, hardly big enough to crawl through, dimly lit in a mysterious ambient sort of way. You [[crawl upwards]]; there's nowhere else to go.

When it comes to it – if you dreamed what you saw of the caves //after// you fell into the chasm, what of the things you saw //before//? What grounds have you to assume that you were not dreaming then? No, no, you're not dreaming – you've established that. But if all this is weird extradimensional stuff – why would that only be limited to the chasm itself and what came after?\n\nYou can't remember how you came to be standing in front of the chasm in the first place, and it occurs to you now to wonder what the implications of that are.\n\nSomething rustles in the darkness: you're reminded of the angels' proximity, and realize that you don't have time to get meta. You'd better do something, and fast, before they attack you again. But what?\n\n[[{{{>}}} Try to strike sparks with your knife]]\n[[{{{>}}} Try to scare them off with loud noises]]\n[[{{{>}}} Attempt communication]]

Maybe you don't have matches anymore, but there's more than one way to make light. Your knife is stainless steel. You're //fairly// sure you could do something with a piece of flint, or possibly any piece of sufficiently hard rock.\n\nAs luck would have it, [[solid stone]] is the one thing you've got in abundance.

Suddenly, everything is on fire.\n\n//Everything.//\n\nThe cultists below you are burning; they scream in pain, but also they pray and chant and give worship to the holy flames.\n\n''You are a part of everything: therefore, you are also on fire. The god of the rift (the descriptor //dark// no longer seems appropriate) shows no mercy to the one who brought it light.''

''"There is but one way to leave this realm: that is death."''\n\n''The angels are only too happy to help you on your way.''

You lose your grip on the knife. It falls beyond your reach, invisible in the darkness.\n\n''Your vision is already black, but your senses of touch and hearing are pulsing out of your consciousness. You gasp for breath to no avail.\n\nYour fingers are numb, your limbs limp from the struggle, and at last you give in: you can't fight any longer. You surrender to suffocation, sliding into death as into a coma from which you know you will never awake.''

<<if visited() is 1>>The robe has no obvious pockets, but hanging at the corpse's belt are a few items of apparently occult nature, notably a [[pouch]] and what looks like [[the femur of a cat]].<<else if visited() is 2>>The robe has no obvious pockets, but hanging at the corpse's belt are a few items of apparently occult nature, notably <<if previous() is "pouch">>[[the femur of a cat]]<<else>>a [[pouch]]<<endif>>.<<else>>There's nothing else of interest you can get at without searching the corpse more thoroughly – which is something you really don't want to do. You're already covered in blood, much of it not your own, and you're already finding it hard to resist retching.\n\nYou [[leave the body]].<<endif>>

An odor of sweaty feet suddenly pervades the cavern. Your angelic bodyguards are suppressing looks of extreme embarrassment, as far as you can tell on their beaklike, horrifyingly inhuman faces.\n\n''Congratulations: you have caused the dark god of the rift to incarnate as sock odor.\n\nI hope you're proud of yourself.''

<<if visited("drop a sock")>>Yes! Your sock! You know where you are again!\n\nYou don't want to go right: that's where the dead end is, as per your sock. You don't particularly want to go back down the pillar, either, now that you know where it leads. There's nothing waiting for you down there but <<if visited("leave them here")>>a pair of shoes and an<<else>>an<<endif>> ominous chasm.\n\nThat leaves only the [[left]] passage, unless you want to go back to the [[cavern|too far away]].<<else>>Uh... yeah, you're pretty much lost. This looks kind of familiar, but all these little passages really look alike to you.\n\nYou could go [[right]] or [[left]], or turn back and go down the [[pillar]] you saw after all. Or you could go back to the [[cavern|too far away]], if you're not lost enough already.<<endif>>

The match singes your fingers as it burns out. You drop it immediately. There's a chance it falls into the abyss at your feet, but you can't verify that: your vision is obscured by flame-shaped spots.\n\nYou stumble slightly, misled by the afterimages in your eyes, and your foot fails to find purchase on the slick floor. You fall. The upper half of your body is hanging precariously over [[the chasm]].\n\nYou might still be able to save yourself [[by slithering backwards]].

<<if visited("helping yourself to one") or visitedTag("body")>><<if visited("trance")>>The tunnel opens into a huge cavern, filled to the brim with people wearing identical hooded black robes. They are chanting; you can feel their worship of the dark god of the rift pulsing around you. Their eyes are riveted upwards.\n\nThey will not notice one more black-robed and hooded figure passing between them, coming up close behind one of their number, laying a hand over that one's mouth and dragging them back into the darkness.\n\nThese people worship the dark god of the rift; they should be [[overjoyed]] to serve as a sacrifice.<<else>>The tunnel opens into a huge cavern, filled to the brim with people wearing identical hooded black robes just like your own. They are chanting, and their eyes are riveted upwards.\n\nYou follow their eyes: the cavern is seriously huge. Balconies and ledges along the walls provide further standing room for chanting cultists, and farther up you can even see<<if visited("wings")>>some angels<<else>>some winged figures that, even from this distance, look like angels<<endif>>.\n\nAt the very top of the cavern is a deep and impenetrable darkness. This is the object of the cultists' rapture, and it [[draws your eyes]] in an odd way.<<endif>><<else>>The tunnel opens into a huge cavern, filled to the brim with people wearing identical hooded black robes.\n\nYou are not wearing a hooded black robe.\n\nThey notice the difference immediately, and immediately take measures to remove the outsider from their midst.\n\n''Each of them is equipped with an identical sharp wavy-edged ceremonial dagger. You don't stand a chance.''<<endif>>

''"The human has no name: it is mere flesh that has come before us, nameless and willing. It shall serve to sate our hunger. Come, my kindred, come – let us feast!"''\n\n''The angels appreciate your sacrifice, but if you were hoping to survive this encounter, perhaps you had better convince them that you're more than a bit of meat that wandered willingly into their nest.''

>//"You dare to accuse me?"//\n\nYou turn your fear outwards, using it to fuel your anger. The angels fall utterly silent.\n\n>//"Insolent fools! By rights you would die for this!"//\n\nA longer silence; then, at last, one speaks.\n\n''"Forgive us. We were mistaken. [[How may we serve]]?"''

You're back in the room with the chasm<<if visited("You made it")>>. No way you're going near that thing again<<endif>>.\n\n<<if visited("leave them here")>>Peering through the gloom, you can barely see your shoes on the other side of the cavern, resting at the base of a spire – just as you left them. You've made it across the chasm!\n\n<<endif>>\s\nA cursory check of this side of the cavern <<if visited("leave them here")>>reveals<<else>>confirms that you've made it to the other side: you find<<endif>> a passage leading [[away from this place]].

''"We do not judge you. Your power is greater than that of the darkness. Your power is greater than that of our god."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

You strike a match.\n\nIt flares up, the only light in total darkness. The angels turn to stare at you in silence.\n\nOne by one, [[they bow down to you]].

They lead you to <<if visited("The door on the right")>>the storage room you saw before<<else>>a storage room<<endif>>, where they outfit you with a hooded black robe just like their own and a small assortment of occult paraphernalia. They do not yet outfit you with one of the wavy daggers: you will have to prove yourself to them, first.\n\nYou'll have plenty of opportunities to do so: they inform you that this is the realm of the dark god of the rift, and that there is no escape from it but death. You will remain here for the rest of your life.\n\nThen they lead you through the hall again, and into the cavern where the cultists of the rift are gathered in worship. You raise your eyes to the utter darkness that lies above, pulsing in wait, and follow the others in prayer.\n\n<<if visited("You were victorious")>>''The dark god of the rift will give you strength. The dark god of the rift will give you power. The dark god of the rift will give you the might to fight your fears, and emerge victorious.''<<else if visited("You allowed them to deliver you from death")>>''The dark god of the rift is terrible, and fearsome, and great. Its darkness is a wonder and a terror to behold. And yet, you know: so long as you run towards the darkness rather than away, the dark god of the rift will always come for you. It will cradle you like a nightmare, all blood and bones and sticky skin, and it will deliver you both from sanity and from death.''<<else>>''The secrets of the dark god are infinite. You may never know the true depths of the rift. But you will never stop searching.''<<endif>>\n\n''You are but a servant of the dark god of the rift.''

Laughter stopped them attacking once: maybe laughter is the key. It's certainly your experience that laughing is a good way to project the impression that you're the one in power.\n\nSo you let the laughter bubble up in your chest again, although you do your best to make it sound contemptuous rather than hysterical. You straighten your shoulders and lift your chin, thinking to yourself that yes, //you// are in control here. Never mind the army of angels. They will submit to you, as long as you can make it clear to them that it doesn't matter how much they outnumber and outmatch you.\n\n[[Keep on telling yourself that]]. Maybe it will lend some authenticity to your laugh.

Fury's heat washes through your limbs and your mind, blocking off all your senses. You fight without strategy, without fear, without remorse. [[You give yourself over to fire]].

You carefully pick your way through the clutter and pull a robe from its rack. It's a little bit large for you, but it will completely obscure your face and body shape, and if anyone else is wandering around this place wearing anything similar it will render you completely anonymous.\n\n<<if visited("trance")>>Armed with this camouflage, you head back down through [[the door on the left|The door on the left]].<<else>>There's no way you can climb through the corner hole wearing this thing, though. You'd only trip yourself up and end up buried under clutter. Better head back through [[the middle door|The middle door]] or [[the door on the left|The door on the left]].<<endif>>

Think. //Think.//\n\nBefore – you fell. You fell, and then you found that you were floating/swimming. You found your way out, you thought, by swimming upwards – but obviously you thought wrong.\n\nThe spire you climbed, then, the tunnels you came through – even the horde of angels – were all part of the same wacky extradimensional space. You found some pocket of it that contained more than blackness, and thought yourself free of it. And now? You're back in the blackness; true, this time you can feel cold stone beneath you, and perhaps the harpy-angels are still lurking, but the blackness, the //blackness// itself, is the same.\n\nMaybe light would help; at the very least, you'd feel more comfortable if you could see where you are, and, more to the point, where the angels aren't. But [[you threw your matchbook away]].

There is darkness all around you, swirling through your vision and your mind, filling you up. It is infinite, and yet you find that you know it: //all// of it: it is contained within you, as you are contained within it. It //is// you.\n\nIf there is another sentience here, you have found the approach that allows you to dominate it. The darkness is you: it is under your control. And your control is //infinite//.\n\nYour mind has expanded beyond mortality. You have come into your power.\n\n[[The darkness shatters]].

Behind the veil of darkness you craft scenes of the utmost beauty. There are waterfalls with rainbows shining in their mists; there are delicate flowers, bearing dewdrops on their petals; there are fields of polished crystals, all glinting and winking; there are quiet mossy glades hung with beams of golden sunlight.\n\nYou cannot see these things through the darkness, but it is enough to [[know that they are there|You can shape it however you wish]].

But you cannot deny their divinity.\n\nYou realize that you're trespassing on something deeply sacred. You have no right to be here among the angels. If they tear you apart when they become aware of your presence – you would deserve it.\n\nBut you can't turn back now; you'd never be able to find another way out of these tunnels. You have no choice but to [[throw yourself at the angels' mercy]].

As soon as the person sees you they lunge, leading with the deadly-looking dagger. There's no time for hesitation: you push off from the ground as hard as you can, warding off the dagger with your empty hand as you drive your knife into their gut with the other.\n\nYou protect your vital organs from the dagger at the cost of your hand. It may not actually be detached, but it is sliced open something awful, and bleeding profusely.\n\nYour opponent, on the other hand, has failed to protect their vital organs. [[They fall to the ground|you just killed a person]] in a spasming heap.

The hooded figure scans the ground. Instinctively, you do the same: the wavy-edged dagger is lying near a wall, about equally distant from both of you. You could [[try to get to it first]], or you could [[attack|Rush them]] while your opponent is still unarmed.

<<if visited() is 1>>This thing is certainly much fancier than your pocket knife. The blade has a wavy edge and looks extremely sharp, although it might also be fragile. The handle is made of bone. There are symbols you don't understand etched into the crossguard.<<else if visited("small knife") > 1 or visited() > 2>>You sure love repeatedly examining cutlery, don't you?<<else>>It's still sharp. It's still deadly. It's still a ceremonial dagger.<<endif>>\n\n<<if visited("leave the body")>>This dagger is clearly superior to your pocket knife in every way. You feel like you should be ditching the <<if visited("so easy")>>murder weapon anyway, so<<else>>pocket knife anyway – carrying it makes you uncomfortable now that you've killed someone with it – so<<endif>> you [[swap it out|leave the body]] for the fancy dagger<<if visited("so easy")>>.\n\nYour hand is shaking so badly that you slice it open on the blade as you pick it up. It's so sharp you hardly realize it until you see the blood<<endif>>.<<else>>What are you going to do about [[the hooded figure|A hooded figure approaches your body]]?<<endif>>

<<if visited("wings")>>You are one of the angels now.\n\nYou know where to find their nest; you scale the pillar with ease now, aided by claws and ridged hands and powerful arms as well as by your wings, and navigate the tunnels without difficulty. You know where to go.\n\nYou step into the cavern without caution; the darkness falls back into stark shadows, shaped by the light at the center of the nest. The other angels recognize you at once, and welcome you as one of their own.\n\nYou take your place among them, sheltered in a dark nook of the cavern's wall, and await orders from your god.\n\n''You will serve unto eternity.''<<else if visited("catch your breath")>>You know where to find your kindred: you'll have to climb that pillar again. But that's not a problem. You scale it with ease this time, aided by claws and ridged hands and powerful arms as well as by your wings, and navigate the tunnels without difficulty. You know where to go.\n\nThe things that built these tunnels – or at least those which use them – are angels.\n\nJust as you are.\n\nTheir nest is a great cavern, lit by an orb of intense brightness in the center; the darkness falls back into stark shadows, shaped by the light and entwined with it. All around the walls of the cavern are angels, hundreds or thousands of them, with glorious wings and oddly beaklike faces. They welcome you as one of their own.\n\nYou take your place among them, sheltered in a dark nook of the cavern's wall, and await orders from your god.\n\n''You will serve unto eternity.''<<else>>You know where to find your kindred.\n\nYou scale one of the spires of twisted rock nearby the chasm with ease, aided by claws and ridged hands and powerful arms as well as by your wings, and swing easily into a tunnel at its apex. There is a labyrinth of tunnels here, which are shaped as though they were built for you. This is the realm of the angels.\n\nYou navigate the tunnels without difficulty. You know where to go.\n\nYour kindred's nest is a great cavern, lit by an orb of intense brightness in the center; the darkness falls back into stark shadows, shaped by the light and entwined with it. All around the walls of the cavern are angels, hundreds or thousands of them, with glorious wings and oddly beaklike faces. They welcome you as one of their own.\n\nYou take your place among them, sheltered in a dark nook of the cavern's wall, and await orders from your god.\n\n''You will serve unto eternity.''<<endif>>

You fight your way through the darkness, ducking and slashing and generally instigating further chaos. The angels on the other end of the room are beginning to calm down, but all around you is still a storm of flapping wings and slashing claws and hissing angelic fury.\n\nYou should be getting near to the wall of the cavern by now. There's no sign of an exit, not that you'd notice one in this complete and chaotic darkness.\n\nAs you're buffeted from one side to another by the angels' glorious wings, stumbling into claws and feathers and outcroppings of rock, you realize that <<if visited("is")>>you are hopelessly lost without light.\n\nLast chance to [[light a match|angels' nest]]<<else>>[[you are hopelessly lost without light]]<<endif>>.

>//"Yes."//\n\nYou can, actually. You can't explode the angels with your mind, because something is protecting them, but the power is there – somehow.\n\nOnly – you realize that it's not just a power. It's a sentience, something greater than you are. Your power is only borrowed; and it's weaker now than it was before, as well as being useless against the angels.\n\nBut it's hungry. It's pulling at you. It speaks to you: //you could have all the power in the world, if only you give yourself over.//\n\n[[{{{>}}} Give in]]\n[[{{{>}}} Fight back]]

You drain a goodly amount of your victim's blood into the bowl, add a lock of their hair, and set it onto the altar.\n\nThe mixture needs some occult herbs, you think; you find a pouch of suitable herbs on your victim's belt, and add a pinch of them to the bowl. You then proceed to light a match and set the mixture on fire.\n\nIf you weren't filled with the absolute certainty that comes of devoted belief, you might be amazed to see that [[it actually catches flame]].

''<<if visited("{{{>}}} Thank you")>>Twice, as it turns out. The pair of angels that comes up to your prone form look none too happy to see you.\n\nThey're quite happy to tear you apart and devour your flesh, though<<else>>Apparently the inhabitants of these tunnels have found you after all.\n\nThey happily tear you apart and devour your flesh<<endif>>. Luckily for you, you're dead, so you don't have to watch this.''

[[You scream]].

You creep up to the bend and peer cautiously around it.\n\nThe tunnel opens up into – not daylight – but a huge cavern, brightly lit, riddled with stalactites and stalagmites and unusual crannies and nooks. The light is coming from the middle of the cavern, just above the level of your eyes. It's so bright that you're having trouble identifying it as anything but a vaguely spherical light source.\n\nYou become aware of motion all around the edges of the cavern. The stalactites and nooks cast stark shadows against the light, making it hard to see specifics, but you're aware of [[wings]] – many, many wings, feathery and dark, wherever you look.

You had to climb up the pillar with your hands and feet. It was harrowing and exerting; you're still soaked with sweat, and you still can't believe that you made it up here without falling.\n\nObviously the people (if they //were// people) who made this tunnel didn't suffer from vertigo. Obviously they had good upper arm strength. Obviously they didn't have to worry about their grip slipping on the wet stone.\n\nObviously death-defying stunts like the terrifying swinging motion you had to do to get in here were second nature to them.\n\n[[Obviously they weren't human]].

The hooded figure pauses, looks around, and carefully sets down the bowl. You can't see their face, but you think they seem somewhat perplexed.\n\nYou watch as they draw their dagger and start to investigate the area, making an effort to move silently. A chill runs down your spine as you realize that [[the figure is looking for you]].

You throw yourself to the ground, out of the way of the wings and the claws and the beaks – though not the talons – and try to hold perfectly still, fighting to calm your adrenaline-charged breathing. You really, //really// hope that the angels can't see in the dark.\n\nThe stone floor against your face is cold and rough. A few minutes ago the cold was uncomfortable, even painful on your bare feet, but now it's something of a relief: it grounds you from your panic, stops you panting, helps you to lie still and silent.\n\nYou become of aware of something small and oddly shaped lying beneath your shoulder. It's probably just a rock, but it's hard to ignore the way it's digging into your flesh, and you'd have more confidence in your ability to lie still if you [[removed it]]. On the other hand, the angels have nearly calmed down by now, and the slightest movement could attract their attention; you might be better off continuing to [[lie as still as you can]].

It's not exactly easy to get onto the spire, but somehow you manage. Your arms and fingers aren't very happy with having to support your weight again, though. Sliding down the spire will probably be easier than climbing up one was, but you don't think you'll be able to do this again: once you [[reach the bottom]], you'll have to stay there.

You fling yourself to one side and hit the ground rolling, so as to be back on your feet before the crazy person with the dagger can stab you in the back.\n\nYou're at a huge disadvantage here, unarmed as you are. [[Try to come up with a weapon]] or [[continue evasive maneuvers]]?

As the smoke curls up and away from the bowl, you kneel at the altar and pray.\n\nYou commune with the dark god, presenting it with the blood and the soul and the death of your victim. It accepts your sacrifice with pleasure.\n\n''You have done well.\n\nThe dark god of the rift welcomes your victim into its essence and you into its fold. You are one of the black-robed cultists now, and you will worship and serve the dark god until you die.\n\nAnd when you die, you pray that your spirit may become one with it, as that of your victim did: one day you, too, will become a sacrifice to the dark god of the rift.''

The cavern is not only huge, but also incredibly crowded, mostly with chanting cultists in identical hooded black robes. Their eyes are riveted upwards: possibly towards you. Above you there are angels, you know. You ignore them for now, instead focusing on your human audience and on the [[huge altar]] you're standing on.

You listen as the angels regather their composure, though there's no denying the undercurrent of menace that continues to run through their hissing speech. You can't understand their words, but you can guess at the meanings, and your blood runs cold as you realize that they //will// find you, //will// hunt you down, even if they have to search every inch of the cavern by feel.\n\nLast chance to <<if visited("removed it")>>[[take out your knife]] or [[light a match|angels' nest]]<<else if visited("throw your knife")>>[[light a match|angels' nest]]<<else>>[[take out your knife]]<<endif>>. You don't think that continuing to just lie here is a good idea.

No, you're definitely dead. Your body is broken almost beyond recognition. Your blood is pooling out all over the floor<<if visited("throwing them into the abyss")>>. Also all over your shoes<<endif>>.\n\nWhat's odd, though, is that your consciousness appears to [[have been preserved]].

You don't give yourself a chance <<if visited("attacked the hooded figure") is 0>>to analyze the situation, or to<<else>>to<<endif>> second-guess yourself: you just hurl yourself over the boulder and collide with the dark-clad figure on the other side. You roll across the floor in a tangle <<if visited("attacked the hooded figure") is 0>>of, apparently, black<<else>>of black<<endif>> robe; the flash of steel catches your eye, but there's so much black fabric everywhere that you lose track of it almost immediately.\n\nFor the moment, at least, you have the upper hand. You could try to [[keep your opponent pinned]], or you could take advantage of this moment to [[run]].

<<if visited("{{{>}}} Fiction")>>You thought yourself like unto a god, but now you know yourself less than one: for you can feel the presence of a god now, and it is greater than you could have imagined.\n\n<<endif>>\s\nIt suffuses the darkness. It pulses around you, a being of infinite power, limitless as the darkness itself. Your own power was merely borrowed.\n\n<<if visited("wings")>>The dark god of the rift is calling you to serve.<<else>>It is calling you to serve. It is a god, and you an angel.<<endif>>\n\n[[{{{>}}} Serve]]\n[[{{{>}}} Rebel]]

You rush your opponent, but they have much better reach than you with that long dagger: you can't get in stabbing range without taking a few hits.\n\n''Here is a fun fact about knife fights: taking just two hits can be enough to cause fatal blood loss. Even if you can take your opponent down with you, you're not walking away from this one alive.''

''You get in the way of the dagger. Why you would intentionally do that I have no idea.\n\nThere may be ways to win a knife fight, but this certainly isn't one of them.''

You pick up in speed, trying to reach an edge of the cavern, somewhere you might find an exit or at least a hiding spot. Unfortunately, you can't see where you're running, and you stumble over some invisible obstacle.\n\nYou can't help crying out as you fall; your cry strikes a harsh discord with the angels' screeching, and [[they fall silent]].

> //"I bring light."//\n\nYou strike a match.\n\nThe angels beside you bow their heads slightly in reverence. The human cultists, on the other hand, don't seem at all impressed. You can hear angry shouting below you.\n\n[[The match goes out]].

>//"You will let me pass with impunity."//\n\nYou try to imbue your voice with an air of absolute authority, hoping that the things you've dubbed angels really are angelic enough to be accustomed to servility. You find yourself almost glad of the darkness: it's easier to issue commands into nothingness than it would be pretend calm if you could actually see their monstrous faces.\n\nThe angels are silent for a moment. One speaks from the darkness:\n\n''"Forgive us. [[May we be of service|How may we serve]]?"''

You manage to get back to where you were before – you think.\n\n<<if visited("almost exactly", "drop a sock")>>You don't see any purpose in backtracking at this point. Better [[follow the light]]<<else>>You could either [[follow the light]] or [[go back the way you came]].<<endif>>

With those monsters? Yikes, you must really be desperate.\n\nYou're really not on equal footing with the angelic horde: you're outmatched in every physical way that matters (including, possibly, being able to see anything) as well as hopelessly outnumbered. You'll have to tread delicately around the power dynamic here.\n\n[[{{{>}}} Grovel]]\n[[{{{>}}} Bluff]]

You run forwards, too relieved at having found your way out of here to be cautious. But as you round the corner you realize that the bright light isn't daylight at all: it's too low down, something at eye level, blindingly white.\n\nYou can hardly see for light – your eyes can't adjust so quickly – but everywhere is movement. They remind you of harpies at first, and then of angels. What they really are you don't know, but they're everywhere, and it's too late to escape their notice.\n\n''Whatever else they might be, they're certainly hungry, and their claws are sharp.''

<<if visited("take in your surroundings")>>You dodge your angelic bodyguards and [[throw yourself into the ball of darkness]].<<else>>You edge your way through the crowd, up to the edge of the altar. The blind and naked men and women who are being tortured up here are a lot harder to deal with up close. You try to shut off your empathy: there's nothing you can do for these people right now.\n\nInstead you leap up onto the altar, and before anyone has a chance to stop you you //run// across it and [[throw yourself into the ball of darkness]].<<endif>>

You grow slowly aware that your body is changing of its own accord. Your fingernails are blackening, hardening, elongating into claws. Your arms are strengthening, your palms growing ridges, your legs curling up; your feet are beginning to resemble talons. You can feel the bones and muscles and skin of your face sliding around, though you can't say certainly what the change is doing there.\n\n<<if visited("wings")>>You are becoming an angel.\n\n<<else if visited("Obviously they weren't human")>>An alarm goes back at the back of your head, as you realize that with your wings and claws and strong arms and ridged palms your body is now //perfect// for climbing up pillars and moving around through ceiling/floor holes. Whatever built the tunnels up above: you are one of them now.\n\n<<endif>>\s\nYour perceptions are being altered along with your body, and you realize that aside from color-shifted vision (indeed, you are no longer blind in the darkness) and an excellent nose for blood (you can smell it below, and you hunger for it) there is something else in your mind that's new to you: a //knowledge//, a perception of [[something greater than you are]].\n\nYour power is great, but it is not infinite. You know this now.

''At this distance, there's no way it'll work: especially because the cavern is actually quite drafty, which given the matchbook's small mass wreaks havoc with your aim.''

<<if visited("attacked the hooded figure")>>There's that dagger. It looks even sharper from close up.\n\nYou<<else>>There's that flash of steel again. It belongs to an ornate dagger with a wavy-edged blade.\n\nThe dagger looks ceremonial, but it also looks //extremely// sharp. You<<endif>> don't want to [[get in its way]]. You're not <<if visited("Sliding down")>>strong enough, especially after all that pillar-climbing, to<<else>>strong enough to<<endif>> keep your struggling opponent's dagger-arm pinned indefinitely; you'll have to either [[try to disarm them]] or [[run away|run]].

You kneel and bow your head. The one on the left lunges in, grabs your hair, and cuts off several strands of it before you know what's happening.\n\nYou find yourself staring at a bit of hair held in front of your eyes, as the figure intones:\n\n''"You stood the test of <<if visited("fear")>>fear<<else if visited("euphoria")>>power<<else>>reason<<endif>>, and reached the hall of judgment. You have crossed the rift."''\n\nYou watch as your hair is placed on one side of the scales. They're either extremely sensitive or weighted: [[your hair pulls down on the scales]] much as a block of lead might do.

You drop one of your socks. It may not help a search party – and you //hope// it won't help whatever else might be in here – but it might help you find your way.\n\nYou can still go [[right|left]] or [[left|down the ladder]].

You take a running start and scrabble up the heap. Weird occult items slide out from under your hands and feet, threatening to drown you in an avalanche of bones and ceremonial daggers.\n\nNothing for it but to scale the heap as quickly as you can, and make a [[leap]] for the hole as soon as it seems feasible to reach it.

<<if visited("get yourself some camouflage") or (visited("The door on the left") > 1)>>You head back through the door and down the tunnel, [[past the alter|move on downwards]].<<else if visited("move on upwards")>>You head back through the door and down the tunnel, past the altar, and take the path you skipped out on before: straight along the bigger tunnel, [[towards the sound of occult chanting|lower congregation]].<<else>>You find yourself in a dark tunnel – there's just enough light to see where you're going, though you can't tell where it comes from. You follow it downwards.\n\nEvery so often another tunnel branches off from this one, but you stay on the main path<<if visited("trance")>>. You know where you must go<<else>>. You don't want to get lost in here<<endif>>.\n\nAfter some time you come across something that looks different in the darkness<<if visited("trance")>>: your destination, for the moment: an<<else>>: an<<endif>> [[altar]].<<endif>>

You see two possibilities: either you're swimming up the length of the chasm, or you entered some sort of wacky extradimensional space when you fell.\n\nYou could [[light a match|if you insist]] and take a look, or change your direction: [[up]]/[[down]]/[[sideways]]

The tunnel opens out into <<if visited() is 1>>another<<else>>a<<endif>> dark cavern. From your current location you can't see how large it is or whether there's anything interesting in here. You could follow [[the right wall|the cavern wall]] or [[the left wall|the cavern wall]], or you could [[light a match|upper cavern]] for a better view of the cavern.

<<if visited() is 1 and (not visited("You're glad you never heard their voice"))>>You're sure the cat that gave this bone died of natural causes, after a long and happy life. Probably.\n\n<<endif>>\s\nThe bone is bleached white and highly polished. At least it doesn't seem to have been ornamented with mystical symbols – yet.\n\n<<if visited("You're glad you never heard their voice")>>You don't see any reason to take it with you. It's creepy and dead – and you've had enough of dead things for now, thanks – and you have no reason to suspect it could be ever be useful in any way.\n\nOh well. You [[take it|You're glad you never heard their voice]] anyway: no sense in letting the creepy cat bone go to waste.<<else>>What are you going to do about [[the hooded figure|A hooded figure approaches your body]]?<<endif>>

''Even more than it would have otherwise, that is.''

The figure on the right holds aloft a small pouch, and begins to pour a fine sand from it onto the other side of the scales.\n\nThe figure on the left speaks: ''"Though the dark god of the rift is pleased by ambition, there is a limit to what //insolence// it will tolerate. The dark god of the rift looks on you in fury."''\n\nThe figure on the right keeps pouring. The pile of sand is so high by now that it's unstable: streams of sand avalanche down the sides of the heap and over the side of the scale, where they're carried away by a breeze so slight you don't even feel it.\n\nAll this sand isn't enough to balance the scale.\n\n''"For you, the dark god of the rift demands [[punishment]]."''

You turn around, but realize that you can't remember how you got here. Everything looks dark, and your memory is, to put it lightly, muddled.\n\nYou can see only a few meters in the gloom – hardly enough to navigate by – but that turns out not to matter. Everything you can reach is solid rock. There are folds and outcroppings in the stone, enough to fool your eyes, but there isn't a passage that will take you away from this place. Maybe you can [[find a way to cross the chasm|{{{>}}} Try to find a way across]].\n\nBehind you, [[the chasm beckons]].

The hooded figure kneels beside your broken body and collects some of your blood in the sacrificial bowl. They then make a cursory check for valuables, of which you don't have any<<if visited("throwing them into the abyss")>>. The sight of your shoes seems to perplex the figure: they mutter a brief prayer before turning away<<endif>>.\n\nThe figure departs, carrying your blood with them. Since your blood is part of your body, you might be able to [[follow the figure]].\n\nOr you could wait around and see if [[anything else happens]].

Footsteps, coming to a stop as they near the pile of old corpses.\n\nBreathing.\n\nStrains of what sounds like occult chanting, coming to you from a great distance; you hold your breath, realizing that the owner of the footsteps is doing the same.\n\nYour own heartbeat, pounding in your ears.\n\n[[You really need to take a breath]].

The ball of darkness pulses once, twice, and explodes.\n\nOnly – it's still cohesive. It's just that it's now protruding giant blades in every direction.\n\nIt pulses again. The blades curve, grow. New ones appear out of thin air, everywhere, covering the cavern like a three-dimensional net made out of deadly sharp metal.\n\nIt [[pulses again]].

''"If you would join the humans who serve below, you must first stand alone before the dark god, and be judged. You must enter the rift."''\n\n<<if visited("You fall in")>>[[{{{>}}} I have entered the rift]]<<else>>

You hurtle through the darkness at breakneck speeds, seeking only to escape. The wind feels like a knife as it passes over your skin. You can't breathe anymore: your ribcage feels like iron.\n\nYou realize you're hurtling towards your doom. You //will// die when you hit the ground.\n\nWhich are you more desperate to escape: [[the nightmares]] or [[the fall]]?

Happily, you are too far sunk into your religious fervor to be cognisant of any remorse at this sort of thing.\n\nYou drag your victim's body back to the altar and search them for useful items. You find a [[sacrificial bowl]] along with the dagger you've already nicked.

You see the light ahead of you, bright as daylight.\n\n[[{{{>}}} Run into the light]]\n[[{{{>}}} Proceed with caution]]

>//"No...?"//\n\nYour lack of confidence has broken the angels' hesitation to kill you.\n\n''They swarm in, claws and talons at the ready.''

Time to go hunting.\n\nWant to [[get yourself some camouflage]] first, or would you prefer to [[try your luck|move on downwards]] as is?

''"The secrets of the deep can find no hold on you. Your power is weak, meager, that of one who cannot stand but on solid ground: you are shackled by your certainty; you dare go no further than you can see.\n\nStand judged, mortal. The dark god of the rift finds no worth in you, except as a sacrifice."''

<<if visited("drop a sock")>>You reach a fork, and are immensely relieved to see your scrunched-up sock lying on the wet ground. You've definitely come this way before.\n\nYou don't want to go left: that's the dead end, as per your sock. You can go [[right|down the ladder]], or you could turn around and either [[follow the light]] or [[head into darkness|completely lost]] after all.<<else>>Is this the fork you came from? You're so lost. And your feet are //freezing//.\n\nYou can go [[left|right]] or [[right|down the ladder]].<<endif>>

You feel hardly any different – no, you don't grow wings; no, you can't explode things with your mind; but the angels around you squawk in surprise.\n\n''"You!"'' one cries. ''"You can manipulate the dark?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} Yes|manipulate affirmative]]\n[[{{{>}}} No|manipulate negative]]

<<if visited("throw your knife")>>[[{{{>}}} Light a match|angels' nest]]<<else>>[[{{{>}}} Take out your knife|take out your knife]]<<endif>>\n[[{{{>}}} Play dead]]\n[[{{{>}}} Keep running]]

You kick up your legs and use the momentum to flip up into a sitting position. This //does// startle the hooded figure into letting go of your throat. Unfortunately, your wrist is still being held to the floor behind you, and the motion dislocates your shoulder.\n\n''Your dominant hand is incapacitated, you're in a lot of pain, and your opponent just relieved you of your weapon. I hope you kept your pocket knife pretty sharp, because otherwise it's going to hurt quite a lot when the hooded figure uses it to slit your throat.''\n\n[[{{{>}}}|slit your throat]]

You brace your feet against the uneven floor and wiggle your legs, trying to move your torso backwards. Every bit of progress makes your head sway dizzyingly above the abyss. [[This is definitely not safe|either("the chasm", "You made it")]].

For one thing, it's just gone on way too long. A chasm this deep really doesn't strike you as plausible.\n\nShouldn't you have been accelerating this whole time? Shouldn't you be having trouble breathing? Shouldn't the air be either freezing cold, or unsurvivably hot due to air compression?\n\nBut your fall has been quite comfortable so far, aside from the fact that you can't see anything. You've been breathing without any problems. The air that rushes past you is sometimes cool, sometimes warm, sometimes laden with the muffled sound of far-off chanting, but not painfully extreme in any way. Your ears haven't even popped.\n\nYou start to wonder if [[you might be dreaming]].

You strike a match. Your medium-range vision is drastically improved, except for the flame-shaped blind spot from where you stared right at the match as you lit it.\n\nThis is another large cavern, not as high as the one with the chasm, but wider and probably longer. Weird rock formations dot the landscape. Some of them remind you of the eerie spire you climbed; others look a bit like twisted, tortured statues. Mineral drip glistens on them, making them almost seem to move under the matchlight.\n\nYour bare feet are really, //really// cold, but that's not the only reason for chill creeping up your spine. You get the feeling you're not alone.\n\nYour match goes out. If you want to [[explore the cavern more thoroughly]], you'll have to use more.

[[{{{>}}} Fight]]\n[[{{{>}}} Flight]]

You knew this thing would come in handy eventually.\n\nYou throw the polished bone at the ball of darkness<<if visitedTag("hand")>>. Your hand twinges, but not enough to throw off your aim<<endif>>.\n\n[[It is swallowed]] with a distinctly organic sound, though not one you can place.

''The first you see of the footsteps' owner is a wavy-edged ceremonial dagger, which they use to slit your throat.\n\nThe blade is very sharp. Your throat offers no real resistance.''

You've still got <<if visited("drop a sock")>>one of your<<else>>your<<endif>> socks balled up in your <<if visited("drop a sock")>>pocket<<else>>pockets<<endif>>. You take <<if visited("drop a sock")>>it<<else>>one<<endif>> out, heft it, and hurl it at the ball of darkness on the altar.\n\n<<if visited("take in your surroundings")>>It's not very aerodynamic, but you're close enough that that doesn't make much of a difference. The ball swallows your sock with a [[faint squelching noise]].<<else>>It's not very aerodynamic, and the altar is distant enough that that makes a huge difference. It falls short.\n\nFortunately, it doesn't do any harm, and everyone's too distracted looking up at the darkness and praying/chanting to know it was you who threw it in any case. Maybe you'd better [[pick a different projectile|throw something at it]].<<endif>>

<<if visited("throwing them into the abyss")>>Hey, your shoes are down here!\n\n<<endif>>\s\nHang on... [[you're not dead yet]]?

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing here is real in any case; or if it is, you aren't. Everything is sliding in and out of focus.\n\n//Everything// is nothing: there is no sign that a world around you even exists. You see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing but a cold hard surface beneath you, and cool air all around.\n\nYou might as well be anywhere. Or, indeed, nowhere.\n\n<<if visited("You fall in")>>The thought crosses your mind that you are still in the chasm. You never <<if visited("euphoria")>>flew<<else>>swam<<endif>> out; how could you have? There was nothing there. There was never //anything// there, except yourself.\n\nThat's a sobering thought if ever you had one, and [[the giggles freeze in your throat]].<<else>>You push yourself to your feet and take a few tottering steps, mindless of your direction. There is a sound of rustling feathers ahead of you: you are reminded of the [[host of angels]] ready to kill you, and another giggle spasms through your chest at the thought.<<endif>>

You have nothing to fight with. Your knife cannot cut the darkness, and you threw your matchbook away.\n\n''Your mind isn't strong enough to do battle with the dark god of the rift. You are broken, gibbering and insane, one with madness. Your mind is so far gone from reality that you do not even notice when the angels, as one, swarm in and tear your flesh apart.''

You find yourself in a clear area. Almost every other surface in this cavern – a cavern which, incidentally, is //incredibly huge// – is crowded with black-robed figures like yourself, which means that this isn't a good place to stand. You [[move into the crowd]] before looking around further.

<<if visitedTag("throat")>>You can hardly breathe through your damaged throat: certainly not well enough to run at any speed.\n\n<<endif>>\s\n''The hooded figure can run faster than you can, and when they catch up to you they're facing your back. This is a position that makes backstabbing easy.''

<<if visitedTag("hand")>>You fling your pocket knife at the ow ow //ow// your hand.\n\nThrowing even moderately heavy objects with this cut on your hand is //severely// uncomfortable. Painful, even. And being distracted by pain rather throws your aim off.\n\n''You hit a fellow cultist in the back. It's an awkward accidental angle, not enough to kill them but certainly enough to enrage them: and you're surrounded by witnesses.\n\n//Armed// witnesses, it's worth noting.''<<else>>You <<if visited("take in your surroundings")>>toss your pocket knife into<<else>>fling your pocket knife at<<endif>> the ball of darkness.\n\nIt spins in and is swallowed with an unmistakeably menacing sound, like that of [[a blade being sharpened]].<<endif>>

The rock formations may have been formed naturally, the product of erosion and mineral drip. But there's something eerie about them, all the same. They bear a striking resemblance to pillars, and the lumps of stone that spiral up them remind you of snakes with tortured, almost human-looking faces.\n\nYou can't shake the feeling that something might have carved them deliberately. Then again, you can't imagine any human sculptor doing something like this.\n\nRegardless, the uncanny snake-spirals make the pillars relatively easy to [[climb]], assuming that you can keep your grip on the slippery stone and nothing crumbles away under your weight.

You hold your knife more as a threat than a weapon, and react to your opponent's attacks by dodging.\n\nYour knife actually slows you down quite a bit: you have to move carefully so as not to stab yourself. Fortunately, even the threat of it slows your opponent down a little as well. You just need to [[be careful]] not to [[let yourself be cornered]].

You are powerless, weak: nothing: less than nothing. You are puny and insignificant. You can no longer shape the darkness, but the darkness can worm in through your eyes and ears and nostrils and crumble you to dust.\n\nYou try to scream, but the suffocating pressure around your lungs prevents you from drawing sufficient breath. You try to flail, but the darkness offers no resistance and no support.\n\n[[You realize that you are drowning]].

Suddenly: kittens. Thousands of them.\n\nBlack, tiny, and //adorable//, they flood the cavern. They claw their ways up the cultists' robes and perch on their shoulders, all mewling.\n\nYou find one at your feet and take a moment to stroke its fur. It purrs; also it licks your fingers.\n\nThe cultists cease their ominous chanting and instead begin to worry about how they will care for the Sacred Kittens, this newest incarnation of their dark god.\n\n''Your work here is done.''

Elation pounds through your veins, laced with a surprising trickle of fear. Yes, you must have been close to the center of the cavern. Yes, you deliberately searched for the matches. Yes, you must have had some hope of success – if not, the risk was never worth it.\n\nBut you're blind in this darkness, and you were really only guessing as to your location, and the chaos all around you was rather disorienting, and the matchbook is really quite small. How good were your chances, really? How lucky can you really say you are?\n\nWell, it doesn't matter now: you have your light back, and that's what's important. You could [[light a match|angels' nest]] right now, and cease to be blind. Of course, that would give away your position.\n\nIt might be better to [[keep moving]], after all.

The darkness consumes you.\n\n''You are one with the darkness, as the darkness is one with you. The dark god of the rift has taken you into itself. And yes, you have power – you can do anything you wish; you are a part of the darkness, and the darkness is infinite. You can control even the angels. But there is very little left of //you//. Your flesh, your blood, your mind: all have been absorbed by the dark god of the rift. You are but a single drop of shadow in the darkness.''

You leave your shoes neatly at the base of the spire. They'll serve as a marker if you ever come back this way (not that that seems likely) – or if anyone comes looking for you. At least you, and/or a hypothetical rescue party, will know which spire you've [[climbed|climb again]].\n\nYou //hope// anyone who'd be searching for you would be a rescue party.

The cultists stare at you with an air of unfriendly confusion. If you weren't out of most of their reaches and flanked by angelic bodyguards, you have a good idea that they would be forming a mob about now.\n\nAs for your angelic bodyguards themselves, they don't look amused by the question either.\n\n''"There is but one escape from the realm of the dark god,"'' they say: ''"that is death."''\n\n''They push you over the side of the altar. You fall into the mob: fortunately the mob is very far below you, so the fall itself might kill you before the cultists do.''

''"As you will; though they may not recognize your power."''\n\nA pair of angels takes you, gently, by the wrists. Their gentleness isn't sufficient to make the flight comfortable: your wrists aren't meant to support your whole weight; but at least they aren't actively trying to hurt you.\n\nThey carry you out of the dark nest, through the mysteriously lit tunnels, through a hole in the floor/ceiling, down another tunnel – past another congregation of angels – into a huge cavern, and set you down on a huge altar in its center. They stand flanking you, like bodyguards; secure in their presence, you take a moment to [[take in your surroundings]].

<<if visited("follow the passage") and (not visited("upper cavern"))>>There's that hole again. You could still climb down the [[pillar]] if you think you're across the chasm, or you could go on into the [[cavern|too far away]]. Or you could just turn around and head back up to the [[fork]] you just came from.<<else>>There's the hole you got here through. You don't want to risk climbing down the pillar again, nor do you have a reason to, but it does provide you with a frame of reference.\n\n<<if visited("upper cavern")>>You could [[check out the hole in the other room|see where it goes]]<<else>>You can follow the [[downward]] slope<<endif>>, or go back up to the [[fork]] you just came from.<<endif>>

That's... that's not a weapon. Even if they //are// the strike-anywhere sort.\n\n''The hooded figure takes advantage of your distraction to lunge in and stab you in the throat. Didn't your mother ever warn you not to play with matches?''

''"There are humans below, who entered and crossed the rift and who worship and serve our god."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

It takes you a while to locate the nearest unoccupied spot of darkness: nearly every cranny seems to sport a pair of wings. But finally you find your target, a hollow whose darkness appears flat and unmoving. Empty, with any luck.\n\nYou watch the angels' horrid faces, until you judge that all are looking elsewhere, and [[scurry towards the hollow]].

''There must be hundreds of angels in here, and you //can't// watch all of their faces at once. You're seen.\n\nThe hollow you were running for isn't unoccupied, either, as you find when death bursts forth from it in a feathery fury, screeching with rage... or with hunger.''

You pick up the small object and idly run your fingers over it.\n\nSmall, rectangular, flat, slightly compressible – //is this your matchbook?//\n\nAn escape from darkness will be an escape from madness: you fixate on the idea of light making everything make sense again, and [[light a match|angels' nest]].

What need have you of weapons? You can //explode things with your mind.// Nor is there anything in this darkness that might challenge you: [[you are the master here|You can shape it however you wish]].

You may join the cult of the dark god of the rift.\n\nIn fact, you have no choice but to do so. The cultists are very persuasive, not least because of those shiny sharp wavy-edged daggers. You have the feeling that if you [[refused]], it would be the last thing you'd do.\n\nSo you [[do as the cultists say]].

<<if visited("explore the cavern more thoroughly")>>Here's the hole you came in through again. You don't see any purpose in going back down there.\n\nYou could still [[check out the hole in the other room|see where it goes]], or you could <<if visited("down the ladder")>>head upwards to the [[fork]].<<else>>see where the [[upward]] tunnel leads.<<endif>><<else>>The passage leads to another hole in the ground. You have no idea if this is the one you first came through or not, but there is a [[pillar]] you could try to climb down. If you're lucky, you're on the other side of the chasm now. You //were// trying to find a way across, weren't you?\n\nYour other options are to [[head back into the cavern|too far away]], or to follow another tunnel which slopes <<if visited("down the ladder")>>[[upward|upward2]]<<else>>[[upward]]<<endif>>.<<endif>>

After quite some time, you realize that [[you're no longer alone]].

<<if visited("helping yourself to one") or visitedTag("body")>>Their robes match yours perfectly, and they seem content to recognize you as one of your own. They nod in your direction, but do not speak to you, and as you approach they stand back to let you [[pass]].<<else if visited("bottom of the chasm")>>Yeah, the last person wearing robes like that tried to kill you. You //aren't// going this way again without a disguise.\n\nYou could head back down [[the door on the left|The door on the left]], or <<if visited("The door on the right")>>[[go grab a robe from the storage room|helping yourself to one]]<<else>>see if [[the door on the right|The door on the right]] has better prospects than this to offer<<endif>>.<<else>>As you approach they move to block your path. Each is holding a long, sharp-looking dagger with a wavy edge, and the sight of the metal glinting in the candlelight is enough to stop you in your tracks.\n\nThe one on the right has a set of silver scales. The one on the left speaks: ''"Kneel, and accept your judgment."''\n\n[[{{{>}}} Kneel]]\n[[{{{>}}} Fight your way past them!]]<<endif>>

You're still falling, and given the way physics is utterly failing to have its way with you, you're not sure you'll stop until you do something about it.\n\nAre you bored enough to [[light a match|if you insist]] yet? It's that or [[flail wildly and hope that helps]].

G. Deyke

Your wings carry you upwards in a few powerful strokes, and it seems like your head breaks the surface of the blackness in no time at all. You're back up where you started.\n\nYou shiver at the sight of the cavern's dim phosphorescence: there's a small fear niggling at you, a worry that your power extends no further than the darkness of the chasm. You find yourself afraid of losing your wings.\n\nBut [[it's too late|back out]] to back out now.

You give the hooded figure's arm a hefty tug.\n\nThey fall, half on top of you. The good news is that they let go of your wrist; the bad news is that there's now a knee in your already-damaged throat.\n\nEvery passing second brings you closer to suffocation: you don't have time for scruples. You [[stab wildly]] at the hooded figure, before they have a chance to wrestle you down.

Everything everywhere you look is blades.\n\nHalf the cultists have been impaled, gutted, slit open, decapitated, or otherwise injured by the abundance of sharp things in the air. Those that remain alive are either screaming or wailing or chanting with renewed fervor. They do not try to run: they are devoted to their dark god, even if that god should demand that they sacrifice their lives.\n\nThe ball of darkness pulses [[once more]].

You carefully approach the chasm and drop your shoes over the edge, counting under your breath.\n\nYou don't hear them land.\n\nYou //do// think you hear strains of occult chanting drifting out from the black abyss, but that's probably just your ears playing tricks on you. This creepy cave is getting to you. It's too dark in here. Where's the dim ambient lighting coming from, anyway? You've been wondering about that. You've also been wondering why the chasm is the only thing unaffected by it.\n\nLight your own match to dispel the oppressive darkness? [[Y|Light a match]]/[[N|climb again]]

You follow the tunnel for a little ways. As you round a bend you become aware of a slightly stronger light up ahead.\n\nThe tunnel forks again. You could [[follow the light]] or [[head into darkness]].

<<if visited() is 1>>This may seem a little irreverent, but now that you've got a new body anyway it's easy to think of the old one as nothing more than an empty sack of meat. Your old face was mutilated beyond recognition from the fall, anyway, which helps you ignore the awkward feeling that you're picking your own pockets.\n\nYou didn't have any loose change, anyway: only a [[small knife]] and a [[book of matches]].<<else if visited() is 2>>All that's left is a <<if previous() is "small knife">>[[book of matches]]<<else>>[[small knife]]<<endif>>.<<else>>Your corpse has no further value to you.\n\nYou wipe the blood off your hands and [[abandon your old body]].<<endif>>

[[The door on the left]] is small, but ornate, and set back a little into the stone wall.\n\n[[The middle door]] is huge and impressive, carved with intricate designs and set into a gilded arch.\n\n[[The door on the right]] is plain, almost rough-looking, and shows the signs of heavy use.

The angels all around you scream and beat their wings. A shiver pulls down your spine: their screeching is like nails on glass, like metal against metal, nearly unbearable. You raise your hands a little involuntarily, but don't quite dare to actually cover your ears.\n\nYou're shivering for a different reason as well: fear. Your answer has obviously upset the angels. You expect them to descend on you in fury [[at any moment]].

You back away from the corpse, horrified.\n\nYou didn't think you could kill anyone. You never //dreamed// it would be [[so easy]].

Rocks.\n\n//Rocks.//\n\nSmall, oddly shaped, doubtless chipped off of stalagmites or stalactites or something. Ordinary, absolutely //useless// pieces of stone, incapable of producing light or burning things or, in fact, doing much of anything.\n\nYou're so caught up in your frustration and urgency that you hardly notice it when your hand closes on [[something]] that gives against the pressure of your fingers.

You strike a match, thereby drawing attention to your position.\n\n''Sure, maybe there's a small blind spot in the hooded figure's vision; but since you can't shield your eyes and watch the figure at the same time, that doesn't really give you any advantage.\n\nYour hands are full of matchbook, which robs you of the chance to defend yourself. Your opponent's hands, on the other hand, are full of dagger. It's just as sharp as it looks.''

It seems to, but it doesn't.\n\n''At the speed of your fall, it doesn't matter what the bottom of the chasm looks like. You die on impact.''\n\n[[{{{>}}}]]

What do you want to say to them?\n\n[[{{{>}}} I bring light]]\n<<if not visited("{{{>}}} Who are you people?")>>[[{{{>}}} Who are you people?]]\n<<endif>>\s\n[[{{{>}}} How do I get out of here?]]

''"Will you serve us in flesh, or will you give yourself to the dark god of the rift?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} Serve the angels]]\n[[{{{>}}} Serve their god|{{{>}}} I don't know]]

You give the rest of the area a quick check before you leave.\n\n<<if visited() is 1>>The [[ornate ceremonial dagger]] is lying on the ground nearby. There's also a [[sacrificial bowl]] sitting on a rock<<if visited("attacked the hooded figure")>>, where its owner set it down earlier<<else>>: its owner must have set it down there earlier<<endif>>.<<else if visited() is 2>><<if previous() is "ornate ceremonial dagger">>There's a [[sacrificial bowl]] sitting on a rock<<if visited("attacked the hooded figure") is 0>>, where the hooded figure must have set it down<<endif>>.<<else>>The [[ornate ceremonial dagger]] is lying on the ground nearby.<<endif>><<else>>Nothing else in here but a pile of desiccated skeletons. You leave by way of [[the only passage you see]].<<endif>>

Barefoot, you return to the creepy pillar and start to climb. The wet stone is uncomfortably cold on your feet, but at least you have a better grip on it now. You manage not to fall.\n\nWhen you've gone up a distance about twice your height, you can no longer see the floor in the darkness. You can't really see //anything// except the slightly disturbing shape of the rock formation you're clinging to. The absence of visible boundaries makes you lightheaded and nervous.\n\nYour arms are starting to shake from the effort of pulling your weight up, but there's nothing you can do but [[keep going]].

''"There is but one escape from the rift, mortal: that is death."''\n\n''The angels are happy to help you along your way.''

The hooded figure moves away down a dark tunnel, dimly lit with the same ambient phosphorescence that lit the area above the chasm. Eventually the tunnel forks; the figure takes the turn [[to the right]].

You channel your fear into aggression, lashing out at the darkness, clawing at every invisible thing that touches you. Blood rushes to your head: your violence is fueled by a primal rage, a pounding redness that fills your mind.\n\nYour viciously flailing limbs connect with eyes and claws and small wriggling things that curl around your fingers. There's no room left for revulsion in your mind: you don't recoil, don't flinch, don't back off: you //[[destroy]]//.

The figure on the right holds a small pouch aloft and begins to pour a fine sand from it onto the other side of the scales.\n\nThe figure on the left speaks: ''"You turned to your fear to save you. You turned to the darkness. Though you feared the darkness – though perhaps you fear it still – you know of the power it holds, and you know that fear itself is //power//.\n\nYou turned to the darkness to save you. You turned to the dark god of the rift. Our god welcomes you, child. Be one with us, and be one with your fear.\n\nYou may join our number, comrade."''\n\n[[The scales are balanced]].

Your scream is swallowed by the blackness around you, and the one thing you thought you knew about your situation – that you are surrounded by the walls of a chasm – vanishes from your mind.\n\nThe blackness could be infinite.\n\nThe blackness could go on forever.\n\n//[[You don't know what's out there]]//.

They remind you of harpies at first, and then of angels. They are dark, and terrible, but they carry an awe that nonetheless strikes you as holy.\n\nThey are perched in every cranny of the cavern, cawing to each other in guttural voices. Their legs are short and curled, ending in talons; their faces are odd, elongated, beak-like, with strange shining eyes; their arms are huge and muscled, with oddly textured hands and long black claws at the end of each finger; and each bears a set of wings as glorious as it is huge – but still, there is something basically human in their shape. The sight of them deeply disturbs you: you can't quite decide whether you stand before them in [[awe]] or mere [[repulsion]].

Slowly, carefully, you shift your weight and reach up to move the oddly-shaped rock.\n\nOnly it isn't a rock. You can hardly believe your luck: unless you're very much mistaken, you've just wrapped your fingers around your own <<if visited("throw your knife")>>pocket knife<<else>>matchbook<<endif>>.\n\nNot that having a <<if visited("throw your knife")>>knife<<else>>light<<endif>> is likely to help you much at this point, but it //has// given you a 50% increase in options.\n\n[[{{{>}}} Take out your knife|take out your knife]]\n[[{{{>}}} Light a match|angels' nest]]\n[[{{{>}}} Keep still|lie as still as you can]]

You hurl yourself at the figure, turning as you do so so that you land on your back, at their feet, stabbing upwards.\n\nThat... that was a pretty crazy risk.\n\nIt certainly [[takes your opponent off guard]], though.

You go through about ten matches mapping the cavern. By now you can hardly see anymore: your vision is covered in flame-shaped spots.\n\nThere is only one ordinary [[passage|follow the passage]] out of the cavern: the one you came in through. However, there is also a hole in the ground, leading to another spire like the one you climbed before. Your arms are still tired and your feet are starting to go numb with cold, but you could try to climb down and [[see where it goes]].

When you come to your senses you find yourself standing on solid ground, alone, panting heavily and covered in blood. You're still flooded with adrenaline, which makes it hard to tell how much of it is your own.\n\nYour grip is frozen around your open pocket knife; [[you can't remember taking it out]], but it, too, is covered in blood.

That death-defying stunt you pulled to get up here in the first place?\n\n<<if visited("You made it") or visited("You fall in")>>[[It's not as easy going backwards|fall]]<<else>>[[It's not as easy going backwards]]<<endif>>.

You're definitely not in good shape. Your hand is still bleeding badly, there are several stinging scratches on your cheeks, and you have bruises all over. Worst of all is your throat: you're having serious trouble breathing.\n\nAlso, [[you just killed a person]].

You //are// flying.\n\nYou laugh aloud in delight as you realize that the terror of the fall was only an illusion. You are in control. You are under your own power.\n\nThe blackness around you reveals nothing: it could be concealing anything, or everything. It is blanker than canvas, emptier than slate. Its potential is limitless.\n\nAnd it is //yours//, under your power. [[You can shape it however you wish]].

The sound tears through your throat, startlingly loud, pitched high with panic.\n\nYou'd think it would echo.\n\n[[It doesn't]].

Yeah, there's no wall here, either.\n\nYou appear to be in a wacky extradimensional space. What are you going to do about it?\n\n[[{{{>}}} Swim up|up]]\n[[{{{>}}} Swim down|down]]\n[[{{{>}}} Swim in aimless circles]]\n[[{{{>}}} Light a match|if you insist]]

By the sound of it, that was the wrong thing to say. The chorus of screeches is nigh deafening, and you find yourself rooted to the spot by fear as well as humility.\n\nIt comes as a surprise that they do not kill you, and you nearly think yourself safe when the spokesangel begins to speak again<<if not visited("You fall in")>>. Until you hear the words<<endif>>.\n\n''"We will [[take you|{{{>}}} I don't know]] to the rift."''

You're going to just admit to that?\n\n''The angels are extremely upset by your actions, and you've given them a focus for their wrath.''

The tunnel slopes downward very gradually. There's a high cavern beneath you, as you know; there's not a whole lot of room for this passage to go down.\n\nIt also seems to be getting [[larger]].

Your tunnel eventually feeds into [[a larger one|away from this place]].

Dead end. You think.\n\nIt's kind of twisty in here.\n\n[[You turn around]] (you think).

You dodge with strategy, and finally manage to manipulate yourself into a position wherein the tunnel entrance the hooded figure first came from is at your back.\n\nThis is your chance to [[run]].

You duck against a wall, cowering behind an outcrop of stone. The hooded figure runs past you.\n\nCongratulations: you're <<if visitedTag("throat", "hand", "bruise")>>safe! You may be battered, bleeding profusely, and having trouble breathing, but, well... nothing's chasing you anymore!<<else if visitedTag("throat", "hand")>>safe! You may be bleeding profusely and having trouble breathing, but, well... nothing's chasing you anymore!<<else if visitedTag("throat")>>safe! You may be having some trouble breathing, but, well... nothing's chasing you anymore!<<else if visitedTag("hand")>>safe! You may be bleeding profusely, but, well... nothing's chasing you anymore!<<else if visitedTag("bruise")>>safe! You may be winded and a little bit bruised, but hey, nothing's chasing you anymore!<<else>>safe!<<endif>>\n\nIt's worth noting, though, that you look extremely conspicuous. If the fashion around here is hooded black robes, you're going to stand out; and if standing out is going to make people want to stab you without explanation, then that could be very dangerous.\n\nUnfortunately, you see no convenient black robes anywhere nearby. There's really nothing here but the tunnel. It does fork, though; you could go [[straight ahead|lower congregation]], or follow a smaller tunnel that slopes slightly upward [[to the right]].

The bowl is wooden. Elaborate designs have been burned into it, depicting human figures in tortured poses under religious-looking symbols <<if visited("trance")>>which speak to you on a deep inner level<<else>>you don't recognize<<endif>>.\n\nThe inside of it has a few red-brown stains.\n\n<<if visited("slit their throat")>>[[Perfect]].<<else if visited("leave the body")>>Carrying this might not be easy – there's no way it will fit into your pocket – but this is a useful item if ever you saw one. It's certainly more useful than a cat femur, anyway. You [[take it with you|leave the body]].<<else>>What are you going to do about [[the hooded figure|A hooded figure approaches your body]]?<<endif>>

A guttural voice speaks from the circle of bowed heads: ''"You have power over the darkness."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

You part with your only light source with a twinge of fear. You don't relish the thought of being alone in the dark with those things, but it's better than giving up your weapon.\n\nYou can see the angels' inhuman heads snapping around, swiveling to watch the small projectile as it sails across the room. It hits the orb and penetrates its surface with a quiet //poik//.\n\nThe light flashes brighter than before – impossibly bright – and then [[goes out]].

The pile slides away under your feet, but you manage to hold on to some edge inside the hole and pull yourself up<<if visited("fear")>>. This is kind of a harrowing day for you, isn't it?<<else>>.<<endif>>\n\nYou find yourself in a dark tunnel. There's some sort of weird ambient lighting going on in here, which is good: you left the candle burning in the room below.\n\n[[You hope that doesn't start a fire]].

[[{{{>}}} Ascend literally]]\n[[{{{>}}} Ascend metaphorically]]

The figure on the right holds a small pouch aloft and begins to pour a fine sand from it onto the other side of the scales.\n\nThe figure on the left speaks: ''"You found the strength to fight back your fears. You found it in darkness: you turned to the darkness within yourself to give you strength. You turned to darkness, and the darkness blessed you with strength and with victory.\n\nThe dark god of the rift is strengthened by your worship. You may join our number, comrade."''\n\n[[The scales are balanced]].

You flip open your pocket knife and face off.\n\nThis evens the odds a little bit, but not by much. Your opponent's dagger looks a good deal sharper and – more importantly – a good deal //longer// than your pocket knife. Your opponent also looks like they know what they're doing. You, on the other hand, do not.\n\nStill, pulling a knife has at least bought you a few seconds' time: [[your opponent hesitates]] at the sight of it, recalculating their approach.

<<if not visited("{{{>}}} Who are you?")>>[[{{{>}}} Who are you?]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if not visited("{{{>}}} What is this place?")>>[[{{{>}}} What is this place?]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if (visited("{{{>}}} Who are you?") or visited("{{{>}}} What is this place?")) and not visited("{{{>}}} Tell me about the rift")>>[[{{{>}}} Tell me about the rift]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if (visited("{{{>}}} Who are you?") or visited("{{{>}}} What is this place?")) and not visited("{{{>}}} Tell me about your god")>>[[{{{>}}} Tell me about your god]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if (visited("{{{>}}} Tell me about the rift") and visited("You fall in")) and not visited("We do not judge you")>>[[{{{>}}} I have entered the rift|We do not judge you]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if not visited("{{{>}}} Are there other humans here?")>>[[{{{>}}} Are there other humans here?]]\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visited("{{{>}}} Are there other humans here?")>>[[{{{>}}} Take me to the other humans]]<<endif>>

You run through the tunnel, grateful for the mysterious ambient phosphorescence that lights your way, however dimly.\n\nThe hooded figure is coming after you. //Running// after you.\n\n[[Try to outrun them]] or [[find a place to hide]]?

The darkness is pulsating, roiling, patterned with – nothing, it's just darkness – but you cannot look away from it.\n\nYou can //feel// the dark god of the rift there, feeding on the <<if visited("creep up carefully")>>angels'<<else>>cultists'<<endif>> worship. And without quite noticing, you've begun to worship it as well. You can feel your lips moving in prayer, and your eyes will not drop from the darkness.\n\n''You may have bypassed whatever initiation rituals the cultists usually have to go from, but you have nonetheless become one of them. You will serve the dark god of the rift. At the moment, with the patterns of the darkness there before your eyes, this truth pleases you.''

You continue dodging, barely managing to evade your assailant, until you finally get your back to the tunnel entrance the hooded figure came from.\n\nThis is your chance to [[run]].

''You should learn to trust those gut instincts.''

Oddly enough, the angels give no audible reaction to your sudden fit of madness. Nor do they attack. You begin to wonder if they were ever real, or if your imagination conjured them up: you wandered through dark tunnels a long time, after all, and maybe your mind was gone before you ever arrived at this cavern. What does it say for your sanity that you cannot even remember how you first arrived in these caves?\n\n<<if visited("removed it")>>You can't cope with the darkness: only one way to escape it. You [[light a match|angels' nest]].<<else>>Perhaps you are alone in this utter darkness.\n\nYou sit up, still giddy, with giggles leaking out between your breaths. One hand is clamped firmly around the grip of your knife. The other falls to the ground, and brushes against some small object of an odd shape.\n\nYour mind fails to perceive it as relevant. Nothing is relevant except the absurdity of your situation.\n\nYour ribcage hurts. You cannot stem the tide of giggles.\n\n[[{{{>}}} Pick it up]]\n[[{{{>}}} Ignore it]]<<endif>>

You <<if visited("{{{>}}} Swim in aimless circles") > 2>>//finally// strike<<else>>strike<<endif>> a match.\n\n<<if visited("something you're carrying")>>The darkness around you dries up, shrinking back from the flame. //This// is your power, then, the only power you have: light.\n\nYou can still feel the lurking wrath of the god all around you. Better move on before the match goes out.\n\n<<else if visited("swimming")>>The blackness you've been swimming through dries up, and you fall – though fortunately not very far.\n\n<<endif>>\s\n<<if visited("something you're carrying")>>You don't recall landing, but now you find yourself standing on a ledge, with the black abyss behind you – still throbbing with divine fury.<<else>>You find yourself standing on a ledge<<if visited("swimming")>>.<<else>>, without knowing quite how you got there.<<endif>><<endif>> In front of you are [[three doors]].

You get to a fork. You think it's the one you came from, but it's hard to be sure in here.\n\n<<if visited() is 1>>You hope you won't need to draw a map: you don't have the necessary tools on you. Like, say, paper.\n\n<<endif>>\s\nYou can go [[right|left]] or [[left|down the ladder]]. You could also [[drop a sock]] to mark this tunnel as leading to a dead end.

You slide down the oddly-shaped spire of rock and wipe the moisture off your hands. They're uncomfortably cold by now from all that contact with the wet stone. Your feet have gone beyond mere discomfort: you're having trouble feeling your toes.\n\nNothing you can do about that at the moment, though. Better [[take your bearings]].

You can't save yourself. Your strength is nothing in comparison with the power of the dark god.\n\nHopeless, but still desperate, you scrabble at your pockets: you can't save yourself, but maybe [[something you're carrying]] can.

You throw the pouch at the weird ball of darkness. The ball swallows it with an odd //foomph// noise.\n\nSuddenly the cavern is filled with an odd mist, or smoke – something soporific or psychedelic or maybe both – you find yourself relaxing, and your eyes drift upwards.\n\nYou find yourself gazing up at the [[darkness|draws your eyes]] that covers the ceiling.

>//"Show me the way out of this place!"//\n\nThe angels hesitate. You take a deep breath, trying not to think of the fact that your life depends on this, and try again in a louder voice:\n\n>//"Show me the way out, I said!"//\n\n''The angels swoop down on you in a fury of very sharp claws. It seems they weren't taken in by your bluff.''

You quell the uneasiness in your stomach and approach the body.\n\nThe person's hood is still covering their face. You don't dare lift it: if you look your victim in the face, you know you won't be able to keep your queasiness in check. Better to pretend they weren't a real person.\n\nBetter to pretend they were never alive: this is just a body, meat and bone swaddled in black cloth.\n\n[[You're glad you never heard their voice]].

There's something deeply uncanny about the harpy-angels. The sight of them leaves an acid taste in the back of your throat and a shiver running down your arms. You find that you //really// don't want to go through an encounter with them: they're the stuff of nightmares.\n\nBut you don't have much in the way of choice. Retracing your steps is out of the question: you'd never find your way through the maze of tunnels, and you're not eager to have your back to the harpy-angels, either. Your only way lies forwards.\n\nYou absolutely don't want to be at their mercy. There must be hundreds of them, and you can't help noticing their claws. You could try to [[sneak past them]], though the numbers are certainly against you; the shadows, at least, might be on your side. If those odds don't appeal to you, you could try to [[cause a distraction]] before you enter the room.

You fumble desperately for your pockets. Your grip closes on your trusty pocket knife; you flip it open and [[stab wildly]] at the person trying to strangle you. This is no time for scruples.

Blackness rushes past you. Maybe it's the sound of wind in your ears, or the feel of it whipping through your hair, but you almost think there's something tangible about the blackness: it streams past like a liquid, or a veil, or smoke. You can almost feel it slipping past your arms.\n\nYou can't see anything at all. You have no sense of when the fall will end.\n\n[[It seems to go on forever|either("fear", "euphoria", "trance", "sense", "death")]].

Is this air you're swimming through? How are you still breathing?\n\nAre you quite sure [[you're not dreaming]]?

You find yourself standing on solid stone. The nearby walls tower up to tremendous heights, and above you is a blackness so solid that you don't mind believing it supported your weight.\n\nOn the ground you see several skeletons in various states of decay<<if visited("throwing them into the abyss")>>. You also see your shoes<<if visited("drop a sock")>>. Your feet are freezing, so you pull them on again, but the foot that's missing a sock feels //really// uncomfortable like this. You hope you won't get any blisters<<else>>. You pull them on again, relieved that you won't have to walk around barefoot on wet stone any longer<<endif>>.<<else>>. You suppose they died from the fall; come to think of it, you're not really sure how you survived it yourself.<<endif>>\n\nYou hear footsteps. [[Hide]] or [[wait and see who's coming]]?

You swim down, glad that you don't have to worry about extreme pressure differences or breathing as you would if you were diving this far down into water. It takes you a long time to reach the [[bottom of the chasm]], but not as long as you might've expected.

You're going to take on two opponents, with weapons //in their hands// – much better weapons than anything you could come up with, it's worth noting – while your own knife is folded up and in your pocket, whence you couldn't retrieve it without their notice, in extremely close quarters, although you have never really been in a fight?\n\n''Do you have a deathwish?''\n\n[[{{{>}}}|deathwish]]

You part with your only weapon with a twinge of fear. You don't relish the thought of facing those things without it, but it's better than giving up your light source.\n\nIt's not really balanced right for throwing, but at least it's hefty enough to be carried by momentum. The angels' inhuman heads snap around to watch it as it spins through the air, heading straight for the orb of white light.\n\nIt hits with a sound like a crash, and the light shatters – fragments – and [[goes out]].

A first, incredulous response: ''"You do not know?"''\n\nThen: brief, whispered hissing; and:\n\n''...they swoop down on you, calling your bluff. It won't do to appear uncertain.''

''It isn't. The hooded figure finds you completely defenseless, and slits your throat before you have a chance to react.''

You climb back up to the fork<<if visited("drop a sock")>>. If you're avoiding the dead end marked by your sock, the only way to go is [[left]].<<else>>. You can go [[right]] or [[left]].<<endif>>

''"We are angels. We serve the dark god of the rift."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

This particular victim does not seem overjoyed. They're struggling, and have drawn a beautifully ornate ceremonial dagger. They're trying to cut off your hand.\n\nBut you've got them from behind. The will of the dark god fills your mind; darkness pulses through your veins. You wrestle the wonderfully sharp dagger from your victim's hand and [[slit their throat]].

You lunge at the hooded figure, puny knife outstretched...\n\n''...and impale yourself on their dagger.\n\nOh well. It was worth a try.''

Again, so quickly that you don't know what's happening until too late, the figure lunges in – takes your hand – pricks your finger on the extremely sharp dagger – and squeezes out a drop of your blood on top of the hair on the scales. The scale pulls down even further.\n\n<<if visited("{{{>}}} Fight")>>''"You faced your fears, and fought them. [[You were victorious]]."''<<else if visited("{{{>}}} Flight")>>''"You first ran from your fears; but then you ran towards them. [[You allowed them to deliver you from death]]."''<<else if visited("{{{>}}} Rebel")>>''"You were given power, but it never quenched your thirst. It did not quell your ambition: it inflamed it. [[You challenged the dark god of the rift]]."''<<else>>''"You sought boundaries in the darkness. You sought to define the rift. [[You sought to know all the secrets held in its depths]]."''<<endif>>

Nah. [[That would be silly]].

You swim upwards through the blackness. You fell a long way, probably, but if you swim steadily you might be able to find your way [[back out]] of this chasm.\n\nAt least you don't have to worry about breathing.

There's nothing nearby that would really work as a weapon: rocks would be far too unwieldy compared with your assailant's deadly-looking dagger, and the half-rotted skeletons are... you don't even want to go there.\n\nYou do have a [[matchbook]] and a [[knife]] in your pocket, though.

You see nothing. All is black.\n\nThe wind carries snatches of occult chanting to your ears, fragmented but undeniably real. You see nothing. All is black.\n\nYour heartbeat pounds like a drum. You can hear the blood rushing through your head. You see nothing. All is black.\n\nThe darkness surrounds you. The darkness is everything. You are the darkness. The darkness is you.\n\nYou see nothing. [[All is black]].

Maybe if you curl up tightly and retract all your limbs, you can make yourself more aerodynamic. Maybe you can make yourself fall faster by sheer effort of will.\n\n[[You can't let them catch you]].

You stand on the altar, humming with a dark aura. The cultists all around gaze up at you, stricken. You speak to them:\n\n>//"My children: children of the dark. I appear before you in human guise, but you know me."//\n\n''"We know you,"'' they intone as one. And they bow to you, and fall to worship.\n\n''You have become the dark god of the rift.''

The darkness curls around you and whispers your name. You and the darkness are one.\n\nThe darkness bears you up and carries you down. You and the darkness are one.\n\nThe darkness flows through you and pulls you along. [[You and the darkness are one]].

Your knife keeps getting tangled up in the person's robe, but you feel it hit home once – twice – again. Your opponent's grip on your throat loosens.\n\nYou take the chance to kick them off of you and [[roll away]].

<<if visited ("yourself")>>Seriously? You want to light a match //while// plummeting down an apparently bottomless abyss? Is this //really// the right time?\n\nWell, [[if you insist]].<<else>>You strike a match, shielding your eyes as the light flares up. For a few seconds the area immediately around you is slightly more visible than it was before.\n\nYou are in a cave. The floor is uneven, rocky, and slightly slippery. The ceiling is high enough up to be irrelevant.\n\nThe only thing of interest is [[the chasm]] at your feet. Beyond it – well, you can't really see beyond it. Stalagmites and oddly shaped formations of stone cast shadows on the distant wall at the other end of the room, if there is one. Your little match really isn't enough to make out details at that distance.\n\n[[It goes out]].<<endif>>

<<if visited() is 1>>Okay. You swim in aimless circles for a while.\n\nYou have no idea how long you do this, but it doesn't seem likely that anything will change, nor that you will come across anything in the darkness. There is //nothing in here// except yourself. There are no boundaries, visual or otherwise. There's just blackness. There's sure a lot of that, though.<<else if visited() is 2>>This would be a good time for some hardcore introspection. There's nothing in here but yourself, after all.\n\nUnfortunately, your memory is so muddled that you don't have much to contemplate. You could bemoan the fact that you're stuck in an incredibly boring infinite extradimensional space, I suppose. Or you could ask yourself just what it is that makes you think swimming around pointlessly is a good idea.<<else if visited() is 3>>At least you're getting some good exercise from all this swimming around. How many laps have you done so far? None as such, of course, but probably plenty in terms of actual distance.\n\nWait, no. The same set of extradimensional physics that's allowing you to swim in breathable liquified blackness is preventing you from exerting your muscles. This isn't even remotely tiring.<<else if visited() is 4>>Wait, what was that? Did you just feel something?\n\nNope, false alarm.<<else if visited() > 4>>You're going to have to eventually come to terms with the fact that this isn't getting you anywhere.<<endif>>\n\nNow what?\n\n[[{{{>}}} Swim up|up]]\n[[{{{>}}} Swim down|down]]\n[[{{{>}}} Light a match|if you insist]]\n[[{{{>}}} Keep doing the aimless circle thing|{{{>}}} Swim in aimless circles]]

The altar alone is huge enough that it actually has people standing on it<<if visited("take in your surroundings")>>, even aside from yourself<<endif>>. Some of them are <<if not visited("take in your surroundings")>>apparently preaching, though you can't hear their words through the chanting all around you; others, naked<<else>>naked<<endif>> and blindfolded, are hanging by their wrists; others are cutting various occult symbols into the hanging people's flesh, and catching up the blood in ornate ceremonial bowls. Incense and bowls of herbs are sending up smoke, and there are quite a lot of candles.\n\nThe candles aren't the main light source in the room, though. Given the angles of the shadows, you place the lighting in here as coming from what appears to be a ball of swirling purplish //darkness// in the center of the altar. How a ball of darkness can illuminate anything, you're not quite sure.\n\n<<if visited("cause a distraction")>>It reminds you of the ball of light in the angels' nest. You find yourself tempted to [[throw something at it]].<<else>>You get the feeling that this is the most important thing in the room. This wacky cult is creeping you out a bit; you're tempted to [[throw something at the ball|throw something at it]] just to throw some chaos into their creepy, but ritualized and highly orderly, lives.<<endif>><<if visited("take in your surroundings")>>\n\nIt would be less destructive to actually [[address your audience]], though.<<endif>>

In front of you are three doors. You take [[the door on the left|The door on the left]].

This upward tunnel looks //really// familiar: steep and ridged, so that you have to use your hands to climb up it. Either you've been here before, or there are several tunnels in here that look [[almost exactly]] the same.

You flail around with all your limbs, knowing full well that while you might be able to rearrange your body to some extent, you'll never manage to move your center of mass except by continuing to fall.\n\nBut somehow it feels like you're making progress. It seems like you're [[swimming]] through the blackness.

''Wish granted.''

The clutter is already piled in a dangerous-looking heap just under the hole. You won't have to actually //move// anything, just climb up an incredibly unstable slope.\n\n[[This had better be worth it]].

<<if visited("{{{>}}} Ascend literally")>>You fly up out of the chasm, only to realize that your wings are melting away. A deep pang of grief shoots through you at the loss of them, but at least you managed to light safely on the bank.<<else>>You swim over to the bank and pull yourself out of the chasm. It's a relief to have solid ground under your feet again.<<endif>>\n\nA cursory search of this side of the cavern reveals a passage leading [[away from this place]].

They're putting up some resistance.\n\n[[Keep pushing]] or [[back off|see what this person does]]?

''Before you have a chance to panic, you back into a body that does //not// react with distracted agitation: you are neither brushed aside nor half-heartedly attacked, but seized around the wrist and held aloft. The fury of the angels does not calm, but it takes on a direction, a focus. You are the center of their wrath.\n\nIn utter darkness, they converge on you. They tear the flesh from your body with claws stronger than they are sharp, and – by the sound of it – //feast// on the morsels they strip from you. Your last moments are so overwhelmed with terror and agony that you cannot even be thankful for the darkness that shields you from actually seeing this.''

>//"You dare attack me?"//\n\nYou draw yourself up, trying to appear haughty, condescending, and righteously offended. The angels rustle their wings in the darkness. One begins to speak to you, but is quickly hushed by the others.\n\n>//"What have you got to say for yourselves?"//\n\nAt last one speaks, oddly hesitant: ''"Did you not destroy the light?"''\n\n[[{{{>}}} I did|{{{>}}} It was]]\n[[{{{>}}} Of course not!]]\n[[{{{>}}} You dare to accuse me?]]

''"The realm of our god. We are the keepers of the rift."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

<<if visited() is 1>>You trace the edge of the cavern, staying near the wall to keep from losing your way. The wall is full of nooks and protrusions, making it hard to judge your overall direction, but you're pretty sure it curves around in a generally concave manner.\n\nThe only interesting thing you come across is a passage that leads out of the cavern<<else if visited() is 2>>You trace the edge of the cavern until you get to another passage<<else>>Are you lost yet?\n\nThere's another passage here<<endif>>. You're not sure if it's the one you came in through or not; the organic shape of room has disoriented you.\n\nYou could [[follow the passage]], [[keep tracing the wall|the cavern wall]], [[backtrack|the cavern wall]], or [[light a match|upper cavern]] to orient yourself.

''The angels all around you crow happily – hungrily – and swarm down on you, tearing long strips of flesh from your body, slurping them down with evident delight. You wait to die in silent agony, taking comfort in the fact that your flesh is serving a greater purpose. You are happy to give the angels sustenance.\n\nYou're even happier that you don't survive to witness all this for very long.''

You stay back, behind the rows of angels, trying to avoid being seen. Fortunately, they're all extremely distracted. They're looking up at what appears to be the ceiling of a very large cavern.\n\nThat ceiling is covered with darkness. It's the only part of the cavern you can see from back here, and it [[draws your eyes]].

You eye the hooded figure warily, realizing that one or both of you is going to die here. You don't want it to be you.\n\n[[Rush them]] or [[wait for them to make a move]]?

You keep going upwards. Every so often another tunnel branches off, but you stay with the main one: you don't want to get lost in here.\n\nAt the end of the tunnel is a door. You open it and [[step out]].

''"Our god is infinite in power and in knowledge. Our god is ever-present in darkness. Our god has gifted us with the forms of angels. Our god thirsts for worship and for blood."''\n\nYour match is about to go out. You [[light another]].

<<if visited() is 1>>Your trusty pocket knife isn't much longer than the palm of your hand, but it's sharp. It could be useful for cutting or scraping almost anything: string, tape, envelopes... even styrofoam. It would also make a decent weapon in an emergency, although you're not sure you'd survive that sort of emergency regardless.<<else>>Yeah, this is still the same knife.<<endif>>\n\n<<if visited("something you're carrying")>>You flip it open and slice at the darkness around you. But the darkness isn't solid, and it can't be cut. The only effect is that you feel even more impotent than before.\n\n[[You're having serious trouble breathing]].<<else if visited("find a weapon")>>This is //exactly// the sort of emergency that calls for a knife – in other words, the sort you're not too sure about surviving.\n\nYou flip it open. You could [[lie in wait]] to ambush the hooded figure, or [[attack]].<<else if visited("rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change")>>You don't see any reason to take this with you, now that you've got an ornate ceremonial dagger which is obviously superior to your mundane old pocket knife in every way.\n\nWhat else can you [[lift from your dead body|rifle through your old body's pockets for loose change]]?<<else if visited("yourself")>>You're not quite bored enough to start cutting things yet, especially since the only thing you can reach is your own body. What else have you got in your [[pockets|yourself]]?<<else>>This is pretty much useless right now. Weren't you [[trying to find a way across|{{{>}}} Try to find a way across]]?<<endif>>

>//"Is that your excuse for this poor welcome?"//\n\nA long silence; then:\n\n''"We were mistaken. Forgive us. [[How may we serve]]?"''

The wings of the angels rustle all around you, and you realize that you have made a mistake.\n\n''"Speak not of daylight, mortal: it has no place here! As you blaspheme, so shall you surrender your life: the flesh may yet serve where the spirit will not."''\n\n''The angels serve the dark god of the rift, and as such they aren't too keen on daylight. They aren't too keen on blasphemy, either. They //are// keen on delicious living flesh, though.''

You struggle to push the hooded figure away from you, but from this angle you don't have the strength for it. This could go on indefinitely.\n\nYou could still [[roll over]] or try to [[pull on their arm|yank on it]].

[[{{{>}}} Wings]]<<if not visited("{{{>}}} Weapons")>>\n[[{{{>}}} Weapons]]<<endif>><<if not visited("{{{>}}} Beauty")>>\n[[{{{>}}} Beauty]]<<endif>><<if not visited("{{{>}}} Fiction")>>\n[[{{{>}}} Fiction]]<<endif>><<if visited("{{{>}}} Fiction")>>\n[[{{{>}}} More fiction]]<<endif>>

Their wrath is a long time in coming. You're aware of a heated argument among the angels, though you're unable to understand it.\n\nAt last the spokesangel who stands before you gives a loud cry for silence, and speaks – against a backdrop of discontented hissing and rustling wings:\n\n''"Turn back, mortal. You shall not have another chance."''\n\n[[{{{>}}} Thank you]]\n[[{{{>}}} I do not know the way]]

<<if visited("{{{>}}} Play dead")>>You don't see that standing up is likely to help much; you can't see the angels in any case, and at least while you're lying here they won't be able to get at you from whatever side is touching the floor.\n\nYou [[shift so that that side is your back]].<<else>><<if visited("Better think fast")>>You<<else>>You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and run into the flapping-hissing-screeching darkness with your knife held out before you. You<<endif>> slash wildly at the air in front of yourself as you run, unable to see the angels but unwilling to give them a chance to get close.\n\nSeveral times you hit flesh, and run on before the injured angels have a chance to turn and catch whatever hit them; they screech in pain or anger when you cut them, but the sound is lost in the angered screeching of the rest of the nest. Their claws connect with your flesh, too, sometimes – seemingly at random. While they're riled up like this, you suspect that they aren't specifically aware of your presence even when you stab them.\n\nAnd since being stabbed will probably prevent them from calming down, you can [[keep going like this]] for quite some time in relative safety.<<endif>>

You start breathing again, as slowly and quietly as you can. You can hardly hear your breaths over the pounding of your heart, which you count as a success.\n\nYou hear a faint noise, as though one of the skeletons might have shifted slightly; you might be imagining things, but it sounded like it came from somewhere slightly different than where the sound of the footsteps stopped. You suspect that whoever's there is making an effort to move silently.\n\nIf you [[jumped out]] at them you'd have the element of surprise, but it might be safer to [[remain hidden]].