Click for Content Warnings
- Background sounds and music
- Stereo audio (audio will sound different in right and left speakers/headphones)
- Mentions of death and dying
- Emotional distress
- Threats of violence
- Child endangerment/neglect: mentions of and reference to
- Complex grieving of a neglectful parental figure
- Negative self-talk from a main character
- Manipulation, of a magical and mundane nature
- Choking/spluttering on water
- Death and dying
- Loud sound effects
[SAM’S VOICE ECHOES]
SAM: Ugh! Strife? Strife, where are you— where is everyone else? Where am I?
SCOURGE: Hello, little bit.
SAM: NO, ARGH!
[THE KNIFE CLATTERS ON THE GROUND]
SCOURGE: Sorry. You don’t get to stab me today.
SAM: Where are the rest of them? What did you do?
SCOURGE: Oh, I’m sure they’re safe and sound. I wouldn’t worry, if I was you.
[SCOURGE CHUCKLES, THE SOUND FADING INTO NOTHING, AS STATIC RISES]
SAM: Come back! COME BACK AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!
[SAM BREATHES HEAVILY]
[THE STATIC IS CHANGING; IT’S NOT STATIC AT ALL, BUT CLIPPING RADIO CHANNELS. VOICES AND MUSIC SKIP BY TOO QUICKLY TO MAKE SENSE OF.]
[QUIET, FAINT STATIC, QUIET SCRATCHING]
SAM: What? Gods… where am I? The house? I know this place. is that… me? I’m so small. Asleep, but. Wait. My hand is… I’m drawing the white door.
[ANNA AND M’S VOICES ARE SCRATCHY, AS THOUGH COMING FROM A RADIO]
ANNA: He’s doing it again.
M: I know.
ANNA: Don’t say that so calmly, like everything is fine.
M: What do you want me to say?
ANNA: I don’t know! I want you to do something, I want you to try! For once in your life, why don’t you just try?
M: I am trying.
ANNA: Trying to what? Let him die?!
M: Anna. I’m sorry.
ANNA: You’re sorry!? You collapsed a house on my brother and you’re sorry?! Do you have any idea– do you– you don’t know, do you? You really have no idea what’s happening to him. You act like all your ‘magic’ and arcanism helps, like it works, but it doesn’t. All it does is shut you off, and it nearly made you kill Sammy! Look at him. This is your fault! All of it is your fault!
M: I know. There’s so much you don’t understand, Anna.
ANNA: Because you don’t tell me. You never have. Kitty and I have only ever been accessories to you. You waited all your life to have some special baby and you try to murder him the moment you realise he’s not exactly the way you wanted.
M: You think I wanted him dead!?
ANNA: You collapsed a house on him!
M: I didn’t know what would happen, but I had to try—
ANNA: Try what?!
M: To stop this! To end what I started, to—
ANNA: What?! TO WHAT?
M: The end starts when the door opens.
ANNA: What are you talking about?
M: I– it doesn’t matter, I need to go.
ANNA: Yeah, run away, that’s what you always do!
[ANNA’S VOICE FADES INTO THE DISTANCE]
SAM: No, wait! Come back, come back!
[THE SKIPPING RADIO CUTS IN AGAIN, AND FADES]
[LITTLE SAM AND M’S VOICES ARE SCRATCHY, AS THOUGH COMING FROM A RADIO. SAM’S IS NOT.]
M: Why do you do this? Why!
LITTLE SAM: ‘Cause it’s my door.
M: Your door? What do you mean? Is it the door to this house?
LITTLE SAM: Iunno. Sorta. It’s my door. It’s how you make it all go away.
M: How you make all what go away?
LITTLE SAM: All of it.
[LITTLE SAM GIGGLES]
SAM: All of what? What are you talking about?
LITTLE SAM: Everything! You know it’s all starting when the door starts to open!
SAM: You can see me.
LITTLE SAM: Uhuh.
SAM: What starts when the door opens?
LITTLE SAM: The end.
M: What are you talking about? Who are you looking at?
LITTLE SAM: Me.
M: What do you mean?
LITTLE SAM: Don’t worry, you’ll be dead by then and none of this will matter anymore.
M: I’ll– I’ll be… what?
SAM: I don’t want it all to end.
LITTLE SAM: I know.
SAM: The door is a sigil. Why do we draw the door?
LITTLE SAM: So we remember it’s our door. See? We can’t ever, ever forget.
SAM: We can’t forget what?
M: Sam. Tell me what you’re talking about. What do you mean everything’s going to end?
LITTLE SAM: That’s what I’m for.
M: What you’re… No. No, you listen to me. You don’t have to be any of that. Alright? Listen, listen. You don’t have to do this. You understand me? I. I’m going to find a way to stop it, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s me. I did this.
LITTLE SAM: It’s okay, M. The door is going to open and everything will end.
[LITTLE SAM’S VOICE FADES INTO NOTHING]
[THE SKIPPING RADIO RETURNS]
SAM: What– wait, where did they– –
[THE RADIO FADES]
SAM: Ekaterina and Anastasia. It’s Anna and Kitty’s old room.
[THE DOOR CREAKS A LITTLE, SCRATCHY, LIKE IT’S A RECORDING]
SAM: It’s Anna and Kitty, but. They’re so tiny, look at them. They’re sleeping.
[SAM WALKS DOWN THE HALL]
SAM: My room. A crib. Nothing else. It’s funny I– I don’t remember seeing this wallpaper last time I was here. It was covered in drawings, drawings of the door.
[SAM WALKS A FEW STEPS]
[A RUSTLE OF PAPER]
SAM: Huh. Like this one.
[DISTANT SOUNDS OF PENCIL ON PAPER]
[SAM WALKS DOWN THE HALL. HE PUSHES ON ANOTHER DOOR WHICH CREAKS SLIGHTLY. THE PENCIL SOUNDS STOP. SOMEONE GASPS]
[M AND RHYTIDIA’S VOICES ARE SCRATCHY, AS THOUGH COMING FROM A RADIO. SAM’S IS NOT]
SAM: C-can you see me?
M: Is someone there?
SAM: You can’t see me, can you?
M: What was I— gods. Not again.
SAM: Hang on. Is that, the door? You’re drawing the door? You’re pregnant. Is that… am I. Is that me?
M: What are you doing to me, baby?
SAM: I’m sorry, I don’t know. Why are you drawing the door?
M: Rhytidia! Rhytidia, wake up!
RHYTIDIA: Mnnnghhhh. Where’s the fire?
M: I– I had a dream.
RHYTIDIA: How novel for you. You want a prize? It’s the middle of the night.
M: No, no, listen, look, look!
RHYTIDIA: That’s a real nice picture of a door you’ve got there. Again. What’s that? The tenth one this week?
M: Uh. I… I think it’s the baby. I think there’s something wrong.
RHYTIDIA: What are you talking about? You think the baby’s a door?
M: No. No. I. I think it’s them. They’re the one who’s drawing these.
RHYTIDIA: You think your unborn child is drawing doors?
M: No. I mean. Yes! I don’t know!
RHYTIDIA: Ah. Eh. I think you need to go back to sleep.
M: But— listen. I had this dream. I dreamed I met him.
RHYTIDIA: Fascinating. Can we talk about this in the morning?
M: Rhytidia! Listen to me! I dreamed I met him here, right now, like. I—
SAM: M? M can you see me? M!
RHYTIDIA: What are you staring at?
M: I thought I saw…
RHYTIDIA: You thought you saw what?
M: I don’t know, it was just a flash of light.
[M’S VOICE FADES]
[THE RADIO SKIPS AGAIN]
SAM: [PANTING] What happened? Why am I outside? I… wait, I know this place. It’s the empty town…
[A CAR IN THE DISTANCE]
SAM: Wait, what?
[A DOOR OPENS]
[HEELS ON THE GROUND]
M: What— I— I thought I saw.
[A DOOR OPENS]
[THE CAR IDLES IN THE BACKGROUND]
RHYTIDIA: Yanked the wheel right out of my hands. You drag me across the country to drive you to some house because you had a dream about it, and now you’re trying to kill me and your baby daughters.
M: They’re not babies.
RHYTIDIA: Kids, then. What are you playing at, Marie?
M: You really didn’t see him?
M: I– I don’t know.
SAM: M, it’s me. It’s Sam.
RHYTIDIA: There’s no one there, Marie.
M: Yeah, okay.
RHYTIDIA: Come on, let’s get going. If you want to move into this crappy house in Dyserth tomorrow we need to keep driving. Bloody arcanists. Moving across the country because of dreams. Oi. What is a Dyserth, anyway?
[DOOR SLAMS; ENGINE REVS]
M: It’s welsh.
[SKIPPING RADIO COMES BACK]
SAM: No, wait! Wait.
[THE RADIO GETS QUIETER, BUT DOESN’T FADE ENTIRELY]
[SAM BREATHES HEAVILY]
SAMAll around me. Arcane threads. These ones, they intersect.
[SPIRIT BOX SOUNDS]
M: What are you doing to me, baby?
SAM: Gods. It’s…
[MORE SHIMMERS, ANOTHER BLIP OF SPIRIT BOX SOUND]
M: I thought I saw…
SAM: It’s all of my connections, isn’t it? This is Spirit Box Radio, and these are all the places my thread has crossed with M’s.
I thought I understood. I’m the host, I hold it all within me, but, it is me. The ghost of the house at Banemouth Road, the Spirit Box Services, it’s all me.
[SAM PULLS ANOTHER THREAD]
SAM, AS THEY WERE IN S1: Something is shifting. I can’t quite look at it and when I try… it moves out of sight… Hello?
SAM & ECHO: Hello?
[THE CLIP FADES]
SAM: My whole past, it all circles around, tangles, loops back, it’s like… I’m everywhere and nowhere.
What happened before with Scarcity, what happened with Strife… it’s a game. It’s all about giving in, giving up. And this, it’s about giving up, too.
Scourge, do you hear me!? I understand what this is. I get it now, you can–
[A DOOR OPENS AND SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR]
Oh. Hello, white door.
[SAM TAKES A DEEP BREATH]
SAM: No way out but through.
[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN, SAM STEPS THROUGH]
[THE DOOR SLAMS SHUT]
[M’S VOICE IS SCRATCHY AS THOUGH THROUGH THE RADIO, SAM’S IS NOT]
M: What was that?
M: Okay, so, blind fold. Great. There, can’t see a thing. That’ll do it. Um. Where’s the… pendulum? Um. Yeah. Okay! Here it is.
[M TAKES A DEEP BREATH]
[CHALK SCRAPES LINES INTO THE FLOOR]
SAM: M? What are you doing? That… that sigil. Like a wonky pentagram. It’s so similar to the one on the door, my sigil. What are you—
M: I’m sorry Granny, but if I can’t do what you can do without help, then… oh I don’t know. This is all… this is all I can think of to do. I hope you’ll forgive me.
[M’S TONE BECOMES SERIOUS, AS SHE SPEAKS, HER VOICE BECOMES LESS RADIO-RECORDING LIKE]
They say he walks here and there. They say he wears a crown of roses. They say he cannot be sought without surrender, they say… I say surrender.
SAM: M, no!
M: Who said that?!
[THE ARCANE SHIMMERS]
SAM: You heard me!? Maybe this means… maybe I can change something.
M: Ae you him? Are you the One Who Walks Here and There?
SAM: No, I– I–
M: Is this a test?
SAM: No, it’s not a test!
M: Then, what are you doing here?
SAM: I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening, but I need to stop it, I need to stop it all.
M: All of what?
SAM: I– I don’t know exactly, but I have to stop it, somehow. Don’t you understand? Please, listen to me, I just. I need to. Ugh! I don’t understand what’s happening.
M: Um. Neither do I?
SAM: You don’t know what you’re asking for, right now.
M: I really do.
SAM: No, you– you don’t! It’s all. It’s not good. You’ll get power, but it won’t be what you think.
M: But. I’ll get power, right?
SAM: M, please listen to me, you don’t have to do this.
M: I really do. What else can I do? Without Granny, I… look, I’m lost. I’m scared. I’m alone.
SAM: That’s how I felt without you.
M: What? Who— sorry, whoare you?
SAM: Don’t take off the blindfold!
M: Why not?
SAM: Because! Because. Just, don’t.
M: Tell me who you are.
SAM: I’m. I don’t know who I am.
M: What’s that– what’s that noise? It’s rustling.
SAM: I- oh. It’s a drawing of a white door.
M: A white door?
[SAM TAKES A DEEP BREATH]
SAM: I don’t know really. But when it opens it means everything is going to end. But the door is already open, it’s too late.
M: Too late for what?
SAM: To stop this.
SAM: It really isn’t.
M: You sound weirdly familiar.
SAM: Yeah. Don’t worry about it.
M: I won’t.
[SAM LAUGHS AGAIN]
SAM: No, you won’t.
SAM: Can I… hug you?
SAM: I’ve missed you. You’re an arsehole, but I’ve missed you.
M: I have no idea who you are, but. Okay?
SAM: I… didn’t realise it was still in my pocket.
M: What was?
SAM: Another drawing of the door– ah don’t take off your blindfold! Just. Take it, alright? Hold onto it. You’ll understand.
SAM: Oh, I get it. This is how you always knew.
M: Knew what?
SAM: What was going to happen. What was happening with me. That you were going to be gone. Prophecies. You were obsessed with them, how they work, how they fit together. I think– maybe this right now, this is why.
M: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
SAM: All this time… I thought not knowing was the worst thing in the world, but it isn’t is it? It’s beginning to comprehend the edge of the incomprehensible. It keeps unfolding, and unfolding, the door opens and opens and opens again and there’s nothing I can do because this has always been the way it will be be, because I’m here now, telling you this.
M: What’s going to happen?
SAM: I– I’m going to stop the One Who Walks Here and There, but– like I said, the deals, they’re wrong. They’re not what you think. There are clauses you can’t see. This one you’re making right now, it’s not just you that’s making it. It’s me, too, I think. It’s time.
M: For what?
SAM: To become one with the One. It’s already started.
M: What has?
SAM: It started here. Years before I was even born. The end.
[A LATCH CLICKS; THE WHITE DOOR CREAKS OPEN]
M: Is– is that your door?
SAM: It is. I should go.
M: When do I— when do I die?
SAM: A Thursday night, just after witching hour. The Inconvenient Sins will come for you. That won’t mean anything to you now, but by then, it will. I– I don’t know what I’m doing? So, you need to leave me instructions, alright?
SAM: When the time comes, you’ll know.
SAM: Oh. And it’s important? I can’t know you’re dead. Not right away.
M: Um. What do you mean? Don’t you already know?
SAM: Yeah, but… doesn’t matter, just, I can’t know right away, and that’s important. If I knew, I wouldn’t have taken over the show. I wouldn’t be able to do what I need to do. Alright?
SAM: Okay. Good. Just. Okay. I love you. Alright?
M: Um. Sure, okay.
SAM: Remember that. Please? I love you.
SAM: There’s so much that I wanna say… just remember that I love you, alright?
M: I’ll remember.
SAM: Bye, M.
M: Goodbye, whoever you are?
SAM: Whatever I am.
[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN]
[SAM TAKES A FEW STEPS]
[A DOG’S CLAWS CLICK]
SAM: Is there anybody– oh.
[A DOG BREATHES AND WHINES EXCITEDLY]
DONNY: Samael! You made it.
[THE DOG SNIFFS]
SAM: I— yes. I, uh. Made it.
[THE DOG WHINES EXCITEDLY AND SHAKES, COLLAR CLICKING, YIPPING AND WHINING]
DONNY: She won’t bite. Or, she won’t bite you anyway.
[THE DOG SNIFFS]
DONNY: Looks can be deceiving, Samael. Wouldn’t you agree?
[THE DOG SHAKES AND CALMS A LITTLE, PANTING QUIETLY]
SAM: No. You don’t understand. I’ve come to kill you.
DONNY: Of course you have. I expect nothing less. Don’t linger on the doorstep. Come in, come in.
[SAM DOESN’T MOVE]
SAM: What have you done with Oliver?
DONNY: We’ll put him right back where we found him, if that’s what you want. I think Strife may be a step ahead of us there, he always did have a penchant for theatre.
SAM: If you hurt him, I’ll–
DONNY: Sam, we’ve established that you’re here to end my life already, haven’t we? What use is another iteration of the same threat? I’m sure you have lots of questions which would be far more interesting.
SAM: What. Are you. TALKING ABOUT.
[SAM’S MAGIC HUM RISES, BUT IS DROWNED OUT BY A SIMILAR, BUT DIFFERENT, SOURER SOUND, WHICH DOES NOT ENTIRELY FADE]
DONNY: No need to shout. You’re shorter than I thought you would be, but otherwise, perfectly as I pictured.
SAM: What is going on.
[THIS TIME WHEN SAM’S MAGIC RISES, THUNDER CLAPS, BUT IS INSTANTLY SILENCED BY THE OTHER MAGIC SOUND]
[WHEN DONNY SPEAKS AGAIN, IT REVERBERATES AS THOUGH WITH WITH POWER]
DONNY: Ah. Yes. That particular trick isn’t going to work with me. Your voice is undeniable on your authority as Heir Apparent. You could silence almost anyone with just a word, except for me. The sitting king. So please, don’t bother. We can speak plainly to each other, I hope.
[THE OTHER HUM FADES INTO THE BACKGROUND, BUT DOESN’T DISAPPEAR ENTIRELY]
SAM: You hope, I– what is wrong with you?
[DONNY’S VOICE IS LESS REVERBERANT NOW]
DONNY: Excellent question. Take a seat.
DONNY: Why not?
SAM: It’s a… throne.
DONNY: Huh, so it is. Look at you, already making the place your own.
SAM: But I don’t– I didn’t–
DONNY: Oh, and congratulations are in order, I suppose. Here.
SAM: Is this a… crown??… what is this?
DONNY: Yours, if you want it.
SAM: No I. Don’t you understand why I’m here?
DONNY: Of course I do.
SAM: I want to stop you.
SAM: So why—
DONNY: Why am I rolling out the proverbial welcome mat? You see, Samael. Your goals and my goals could score at the same end of the pitch.
DONNY: As you have so cleverly deduced, it is my intention to surpass this plane of existence. To ascend to a higher level. But that can only happen if there is someone to take the space I have made, here, in the Arcane. To sit on the blood rose throne. I imagine you have some questions about that. One of them in particular is burning to be asked; I can see it all around you. Go ahead.
SAM: What happens if I take this?
DONNY: Not an awful lot, if you don’t want it to.
SAM: It would kill you.
DONNY: In a sense. As much as things such as us can die. If you were to take that crown and all it represents, to take my place, here, as King of the Blood Rose crown, you could achieve far more than just getting rid of me. With that crown, you take on all of the carefully crafted fear and sincerity I’ve cultivated over so long a timeframe you couldn’t even comprehend. Surely you’d want to apply a few changes.
DONNY: You know, tug a thread, here, there. That sort of thing.
SAM: What would that do?
DONNY: Theoretically? Anything you want. It is the Redistribution of power. This fresh hell and all of its domains would be yours to do with as you please.
SAM: But if I take it, that would start the Redistribution, and that would mean–
DONNY: Ending the world? Yes. Technically. But you need an end before you can have a new beginning. Surely you’ve grasped that at this stage, Sam.
SAM: Yes. But. What does it mean?
DONNY: [LAUGHS] Oh, I love the way these things work. You know, I tried so many times to get this right. To get you right. Millennia upon millennia. The first couple of hundred attempts, I think, it was an accident. Coincidence. But at some point, I became convinced that you would be the six hundredth and sixty sixth try, and lo and behold, here you are. Now. Did that happen because of fate, or destiny? Did I perhaps design it? Or is it simply because I came to believe this would be the case that it ended up being so? It’s quite the conundrum, I’m sure you’ll agree.
DONNY: Such is the power of narrative, Samael. As much as we shape it, it shapes us. A tale told by idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
DONNY: Something is troubling you.
SAM: Understatement. Maybe of the century, maybe of the millennium. [SIGH] Why. Why did you make me. What’s the point in me? I don’t. Understand.
DONNY: Oh, we’re not going in for the whole meaning of life, thing, surely? The number of times I’ve done this with my little ones. Come on. You’ve figured it out, by now. Nobody can argue with you forever, can they? What is the only thing that cannot be reasoned with?
SAM: You, apparently.
DONNY: A fair point, certainly. But you’ve met the others, my little Harbingers. I wove them together from the Arcane, taking little pieces from here and there. Tell a tale enough times, it gains a life of its own, you know, so that’s what I did. People leave all sorts behind when they’re afraid, private mythologies built out of primal fears. They don’t know the power of their own words. Everyone of them, crafting the monsters under their own beds. It’s all quite harmless, of course, a little arcane trickery is important to the development of a healthy sense of being. Still, it does make it remarkably easy to twist and bend things into the right sort of shapes. All it takes is for me to tug the strings, just a little. You’ll find it quite easy to force a story to take on a life of its own once the words have left their creator.
SAM: So you just… made them, from nothing?
DONNY: Not from nothing. All we are is a constellation of pieces that existed long before us. When humans die, pieces go on. The atoms of their bodies redistribute, and the pieces of them that make them what they are, their preferences, they live on, too, in others. Everyone lives forever, Sam, just not in one piece. That’s the trouble with this place. Everything has been done before. Nothing is original.
SAM: Nothing is unknown.
SAM: And you… want that. You want to be redistributed.
[AS DONNY SPEAKS, THE ARCANE BEGINS TO SHIMMER, FAINTLY]
DONNY: I don’t know how I came to be, precisely. All I know is that I did. As long as I have been I have walked here and there, in that thin space between the unknown and the imagined, lurking at the edges, weaving in and out, a loose thread in the great tapestry of all that is, all that was, all that will be. This place is not my place, people fighting at every corner to clarify, to invent. That space where I lurk shifts and changes. Grows thinner, stranger. There is a greater unknown beyond. The true unknown. That is my place. But I cannot reach it without the End.
SAM: The end of the world.
DONNY: Not just the world, Sam, of everything! Of existence as we know it! And that, dear boy, is the point of you.
DONNY: Of course. Don’t you see? The End is a known entity, but what follows is inherently unknowable, inherently arcane, and you, you are the way to reach it. You take that crown, and all my power, and then you change everything.
SAM: And you?
DONNY: I disappear. I ascend. I am one with the greatest unknown of all; what happens after the end of everything. I do not know. And that, dear boy, is the point of it.
SAM: Why make Scourge and the others at all. Why make the Major Arcana? I don’t understand.
DONNY: Nor do I, in truth, only that I could not do this alone, not truly, and just like you, my power grows the more souls I bind to my own.
SAM: I don’t bind anyone, I—
DONNY: Oh, but you do. Your sister, your lover, your friends, all those ghosts you keep chained to your psyche, all of them lending you their power. Even now, there’s thousands of them, listening.
SAM: I– I’m still broadcasting.
DONNY: Of course you are, its part of what you’ve become. I didn’t see it happening this way at all, but then, how could I? You aren’t just my creation. You are your mother’s son.
SAM: Scourge and the others, they weren’t born, they were made. So why do I even have a mother?
DONNY: There had to be a bit of mortality in the making of you or it just wouldn’t work. Every iteration of death before was so unfeeling, unemotional, that it may as well have been nothing at all. So I thought, well, perhaps to be the End what you really need is someone who can feel it. So, the perfect thread began to wind. An arcane thing born so common place as by a human. A perfect harmony between the known and unknowable. The problem being, then, of course, that humans are woven through with the Arcane. All of them. Except one, born into very specific circumstances.
You see, her parents weren’t just arcanists who dabbled in the Arcane. They were learned, brilliant Arcanists, some of the best of their time. They did their research. They knew that they had to be careful with the details when they approached me. So they had some stipulations. They believed they could avoid having an Impossible Child if they made me make a child devoid of it’s own Arcane energy. I wondered how that could exist, you know, but of course, there is arcane energy in everything around you. One could get by without ones own, possibly, with enough external arcane sustenance. And so, Molly Marie Enfield.
Of the names this has been one of my favourites. Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Pretty funny, isn’t it?
SAM: Not really, no.
DONNY: Goodness, you’re as serious as death, Sam. Ah, you can’t inspire the unfeeling into change, and I do, so desperately, need you to change.
SAM: [PAUSE] Right. And you want me to end the world.
DONNY: Dear boy, what you seem to be failing to grasp is that you are not an antichrist, or a Harbinger like your arcane siblings, Scourge, Strife and Scarcity. No. You do not herald the end. You are it.
SAM: Scourge, Strife and Scarcity, they’re– the horsemen the apocalypse, that’s what they–
DONNY: It’s true, a part of what they are comes from those stories, but also many other stories, as I’ve explained. The names they wear are borrowed from there to an extent, as is yours.
DONNY: An angel with many other names, too. The adversary. The destroyer.
SAM: Angel of Death.
SAM: So that’s the whole plan, then! Make me, end the world, move on into the great unknown!
DONN: Essentially, yes.
SAM: I can see a pretty big hole in this plan.
DONNY: What’s that?
SAM: I don’t want to end the world.
DONNY: Hmm. Perhaps it’s the phrasing here that’s the problem. The End is simply the End of this.
SAM: Yeah, sorry, still not sold.
DONNY: To End it all, you will take all the threads in existence and cut them. And the ends will be in your hands.
SAM: Which means what, exactly?
DONNY: The universe, in your control.
SAM: Yeah, that sounds like a terrible idea.
DONNY: Does it? You’re telling me there’s nothing you would change about this place, if you could? Because you could change anything. It will be as you see fit.
SAM: I. Don’t want that.
DONNY: It’s a shame you didn’t bring your sister.
SAM: Kitty would have stabbed you at least forty times by now.
DONNY: No, the other one. She’d have been able to tell you that you’re lying.
SAM: About what?
DONNY: You want to change things. You want to fix them.
SAM: But I can’t.
DONNY: You absolutely can.
SAM: I shouldn’t.
DONNY: All that pain which has been felt by the people you love. You’re telling me you wouldn’t make it go away, knowing now it’s within your power to do so?
DONNY: As I keep telling you, my boy, it’s all theoretical. So. Pick a card. Any card.
SAM: Can I… think about it?
[DONNY’S INSIDIOUS, CREEPING MAGIC FALLS AWAY IN AN INSTANT, AS DOES THE REVERBERATION ON HISI VOICE]
DONNY: [LAUGHS] You want to sleep on the notion of ending the world?
DONNY: [LAUGHS AGAIN] Well, I suppose that’s fair. It is a very big decision.
SAM: So I can?
DONNY: It’s in your hands, Samael.
SAM: Then that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to think about it.
DONNY: Very well.
[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN]
[AN ALMIGHTY SPLASH]
[SAM SPLUTTERS AND SPLASHES IN SHALLOW WATER]
SAM: Door! What the fuck, I’m in the sea!
KITTY: Sam! Oh gods, Sam!
[SAM COUGHS AND SPLUTTERS]
SAM: Oh you are actually here at least, bloody hell. Where are we?
KITTY: Brighton Beach. Madame Marie used to bring us here, before–
SAM: Before I was born, yeah.
KITTY: Are you okay?
SAM: Yeah. Fine.
KITTY: What happened? Are you sure you’re alright?
SAM: Yeah. I’m fine, I– I need to go and get Oliver. I know how to find him now, but I wanted to check you were alright, I wasn’t sure you’d get out of there. But you’re here, you’re alive. Indi and Ingra too?
KITTY: Before you go. Ingra.
SAM: Wait. Bliss, she’s not here?
KITTY: No. She’s… gone.
SAM: Oh. And Ingra…
KITTY: Ingra’s on the pier.
SAM: Okay. Alright. I’ll speak with Ingra. I’ll see you at home. I think if I just.
SAM: To Ingra.
[THE CRASH OF THE SEA IS VERY PRESENT]
SAM: Yeah, easy peasy.
[SAM WALKS DOWN THE PIER]
INGRA: So. You saw the big man then?
SAM: I sure did.
INGRA: How was he.
SAM: Honestly? A rat bastard piece of shit, just like you all said.
INGRA: I told you.
SAM: Yeah. I– I know.
INGRA: You’re not like him, you know. It’s been different since we came to you. Better. And I know Bliss felt the same.
SAM: I’m so sorry. I know she was special to you. To all of us really. Bliss was… well. She did kill me that time. But she was pretty special.
INGRA: It’s funny. I– I know it was all designed by the one who walks here and there, that the only reason I ever knew Bliss was because it was all some part of a plan I don’t understand. I know that the reason I knew her was for someone else’s benefit. And yet. I am utterly uninterested in existence without her.
INGRA: Can you. Can you end me?
SAM: I think I can. I am the End, after all.
INGRA: Oh? Oh, I see. I get it. How long have you known?
SAM: I think a part of me always knew, but I just didn’t want to.
INGRA: I get it. I really do. So what happens now? Do you absolve me or something?
SAM: No, no. Ingra. You don’t need absolution.
INGRA: What do I need?
SAM: You were used. We all were. What you are, it’s not your fault. It’s not his place to strike the deals he’s been striking.
INGRA: No? Then whose place is it?
SAM: Frankly? Mine.
INGRA: That’s fighting talk.
SAM: You know it.
INGRA: You’re a good man, Sam.
SAM: No. I’m just not a bad one.
INGRA: One of these days you’re going to need to learn how to take a compliment.
SAM: Says you, Ingratitude.
INGRA: [SOFTER] It’s Rowan, I think. Rowan.
[SAM’S MAGIC HUM BEGINS TO RISE]
SAM: Alright, Rowan. For what it’s worth, you need no absolution. You only need yourself.
INGRA: Thank you…
[SAM’S MAGIC FADES]
[JUST THE SOUND OF THE SEA, FOR A LONG MOMENT]
SAM: [A WHISPER] To Oliver…
[THE SOUNDS OF THE BEACH WISK AWAY. RADIO SKIPS]
[QUIET FOR HALF A SECOND]
OLIVER: Sam! You materialised – you can actually do it.
SAM: Oh, gods, Oliver, darling, what have they done to you? In our home. I’m going to–
[OLIVER MAKES A SOUND OF PAIN]
SAM: No, my love, I’m sorry, it’s alright, shh.
OLIVER: It’s just my uh— [HISSES THROUGH TEETH] Yes, those ribs are definitely broken.
SAM: Sorry, sorry, hang on, let me just–
OLIVER: It’d really be quicker if you—
SAM: It’s going to take a minute to fix this and you need to rest after, and before you say anything, no, I’m not killing you just to make this go faster. Take my hand, I’ll help you to the couch.
OLIVER: Alright. Though it would make things significantly easier for both of us.
SAM: Enough. Alright? I just need to– can I–
[FABRIC SHIFTS AND OLIVER HISSES IN PAIN AGAIN]
OLIVER: Honestly, just, please. Put me out of my misery. It’ll go much faster.
SAM: No! I am not– Just no. Never. I know it’s temporary for you but I can’t. I won’t.
OLIVER: Sam. Are you crying?
SAM: It doesn’t matter. Let me fix your ribs.
OLIVER: Ow! And how are you—
[OLIVER CRIES OUT]
OLIVER: GODS. SAM.
SAM: Sorry, sorry that was a lot more— snappy than I hoped.
OLIVER: [THROUGH GRITTED TEETH] Well. They’re clearly not broken anymore at least.
SAM: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.
OLIVER: Mmm. If you insist on keeping me alive, there is a pot of clay, on the shelf.
SAM: This one?
OLIVER: Yes. If you just– gently— place it on the—- ahhhhh— bruise.
OLIVER: I have no idea how mortals manage. Please, Sam, there’s a knife–
SAM: NO! No. I’m sorry. I just can’t. Deal with that. Right now.
OLIVER: Sam. You are, of course, under no obligations to tell me anything. But I would like you to tell me if you’re alright, and answer honestly.
OLIVER: Because I love you.
SAM: I can’t.
OLIVER: Sam. Talk to me.
SAM: [TAKES A DEEP BREATH] Remember what you said to me, after the first night we spent here?
OLIVER: Well, not exactly here. I believe we were a few feet to the left, towards the ferns.
OLIVER: [SIGH] I said I was a bad person and you should leave immediately. I don’t understand how this is an answer to my question.
SAM: You don’t— Oliver. What were you thinking, when you said that?
OLIVER: I should think that was fairly obvious. I was thinking that I was a bad person who had no business being anywhere near someone like you.
SAM: Yeah, but what was it about that moment that made you want to tell me to leave because you’re a terrible person?
OLIVER: I— Sam. At this point, the only contested part of that statement is whether or not I qualify for personhood.
SAM: [HE TSKS] Hey, stop that. That’s not the point. When you said that stuff you didn’t say it because you thought I would really go. You said it because you were scared I would stay. And you were scared I would stay because you wanted me to love you. And I stayed, because I do. I did even then, I think. If I’m being honest with myself.
OLIVER: But that’s the opposite of what you should have done, regardless.
SAM: Everything in my whole life, it’s all been laid out since before it even started. You think you understand what’s happening here between you and me, but you don’t. You can’t, because you’ve not been allowed to.
OLIVER: But, I told you–
SAM: You knew you were going to fall in love with whatever thing the Man in the Flat Cap made to end the world because of that prophecy, I know, but you didn’t know what I was, you didn’t know I was his son, let alone…
[SAM’S BREATH CATCHES]
[WHISPERING] Gods, I. Oliver, the end of the world isn’t just my job it. It’s what I am. The whole idea of me. The way the Harbingers, the way Strife, Scourge and Scarcity just are what they do and nothing beyond it, I’m. I’m one of them.
OLIVER: Sam. No. I won’t believe it. You can’t be. You’re too. You’re so. No. You’re not. I’ve never known anyone more alive.
SAM: But that’s only because that’s what he chose because he needed something more than a knot of the arcane, I’m only this because– because it was chosen for me. My soul, my core, the arcane part of me, it’s. Just. A knot. I’m only the deal. Inside me that’s all I am.
OLIVER: Don’t be ridiculous.
SAM: [WHISPERING] Don’t.
OLIVER: Don’t what?
SAM: [TEARFULLY ANGRY] Don’t try to throw this out like everyone always does! I can’t kick this one aside, I can’t throw it away, I can’t shut my eyes and pretend it doesn’t exist because it’s me, Oliver, I’m it, it’s not. You can’t make me feel better about it. It just. It just is. That’s it. So don’t. Alright?
OLIVER: [DESPAIRINGLY] Gods. It’s all my fault, all of it.
SAM: [TEARFULLY ANGRY] Oh for– no! It isn’t! It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. You hear me? You think you’re— ugh it’s so annoying because you’re so convinced you’re this awful, terrible thing and you know what? You aren’t, not at all, you’ve been bent into twisted shapes but none of that was ever you, not at your core, not in your heart, and I. Ever since you told me you think that’s what you are, ‘Unrelenting Grief’, it’s been bugging me, because grief is this pit, it’s an abyss, it’s a bucket full of holes, it takes and takes, and you’ll barely let me give you a thing!
The stupidest part is that I understand it, now. I know why I was supposed to take your deal. The Man in the Flat Cap needed me to change. You’ve changed me. What I’d do, the lengths I’d go to to keep you safe? They’re– well, they’re absurd. It’s. Unrelenting. And it’s so obvious isn’t it?
OLIVER: [IRRITATED] No! I assure you it is patently not!
SAM: Love, my love, you have never been grief. I know that’s what you’ve thought all this time but it’s not grief, is it? That’s not you. You’re love. But I know why you thought that. Love and death, that’s all grief is.
[BEAT OF SILENCE]
Are you still with me, love?
SAM: Good. I see you. I know you. I love you.
OLIVER: I love you too.
SAM: That’s the sinker really, isn’t it? Because I do love you, whatever meddling happened in between, whatever brought us here, whatever led us to this. None of it matters. But this, right here? That matters. That first night, lying over there, when you looked at me and told me to leave because you were terrible, that matters. You didn’t ask me to love you right then and there but I already did. You knew that I think. That’s why you asked.
It’s alright. I promise you. Do you believe me?
OLIVER: I. Yes. Maybe.
SAM: Good. You look exhausted, my love. You should rest, give your bruises some time to heal. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk more then. And before you ask, I know I’m still broadcasting. I know. I know.
SAM: Sleep, now. Sleep.
He’s resting, thank gods.
[KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK]
Oh, the White Door. What now? What more could you possible want from me?
[DOOR CREAKS OPEN]
SAM: Alright, alright!
[SAM STEPS THROUGH]
SAM: Revel? What are you doing here?
[A DOG YIPS EXCITEDLY]
SAM: The man in the flat cap’s dog?
[THE DOG RUNS]
REVEL: [ANGRILY] Mrrrrrrrrrr.
SAM: What? What is it?
[THE DOG BARKS AGAIN]
SAM: Is that a present?’
[THE DOG BARKS]
SAM: Where did she go?
SAM: Arcane, yeah.
[SAM UNWRAPS THE PRESENT, PAPER CRUNCHING]
The blood rose crown. And my rose. My deal. Oh, there’s a note, too. ‘Sleep on it.’ Puh.
SAM: Yeah. It is sort of beautiful, roses and thorns…
Ouch. It’s sharp. Ah, I’m bleeding. Ah.
[THUNDER CRACKS OVERHEAD]
Well, I can’t take it home with me?
SAM: Earth beneath my hands, mingled with my blood, here my words; take this crown, hold it in your embrace, so nobody else can find it. Understand?
SAM: [SOFTLY] Okay, good. Come on Revel, lets go home.
[SAM WALKS. HE CLOSES THE DOOR, THE SOUNDS OF BANEMOUTH ROAD STOP ABRUPTLY]
Faithful listeners, I. I need some time to think. And sleep. Gods, I really, really need to sleep. Faithful Listeners, I love you. Goodnight.