c) Let the destruction consume you
“Try the first one,” Troy demands, leaning over my shoulder.
I click it. The apprentice gathers the shattered pieces, desperately trying to force them back together. The magic backfires, exploding outward. The screen goes dark. A single heartbeat. then…
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING.
“Now the second,” Alfie says.
Same ending approached differently—the apprentice accepts the broken staff, tries to channel raw magic without it. The power overwhelms him. Darkness. Heartbeat. Same message.
“And the third,” Freddie whispers.
The apprentice doesn’t fight. He opens himself to the destructive magic, lets it flow through him. The result is the same—consumed by power he can’t control. Darkness. Heartbeat. Beginning.
“Holy shit!” Troy breathes out. “They all lead to the same place.”
“But I chose it,” Freddie says. “I picked how to fail. That’s... that’s brilliant.”
“It’s what Piper suggested,” I admit. “Not exactly, but she said players needed to feel like participants in the destruction, not victims of it. So now they choose their path to devastation.”
“And all paths lead to the heartbeat,” Alfie observes. “To the promise that this isn’t over.”
I run through all three options again, watching how each choice feels deliberate, meaningful, even though the destination never changes.
“The illusion of choice,” Troy says. “But it doesn't feel like an illusion.”
“Because the choice is real,” I explain. “You're choosing how to face loss, not whether to face it. The emotion is different even if the outcome isn't.”
“She's going to lose her mind when she sees this,” Freddie says.
My chest tightens at the mention of her. “If she ever sees it.”
“She will,” Troy says with characteristic confidence. “After showcase. After you nail your presentation and prove to everyone—including yourself—that you're as good as we all know you are.”
“I wasn't thinking about reaching out yet,” I lie.
“Bullshit,” Alfie calls from where he's still adjusting code. “You've been thinking about her all night. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
“I've been thinking about my game all night. And, twelve days.”
“You’re counting the days. You care. And, your game thatshehelped make better,” Freddie points out.
I run my hands through my hair. “Look, even if I wanted to reach out—which I'm not saying I do—I need to focus. Showcase is in a few days. My entire future depends on that presentation.”
“Good,” Troy says, surprising me. “Get your shit together first. Show her the final version when it's perfect, not when you're still spiraling.”
“I'm not spiraling.”
They all look at me.
“Fine, I'm spiraling a little. But the presentation comes first. I need to prove this is real, that I can do this.” I look at my screen, at the game that's consumed years of my life. “Maybe after, if it goes well, I'll... consider options.”
“Options,” Alfie repeats. “Very romantic.”
“What options?” Freddie asks.
“I don't know. Depends how showcase goes.”
