[Click] [The deep, metallic rattle of a heavy iron gate being shut. A thin click as a lock is replaced.] [A quiet laugh. It is not a pleasant laugh.] [Click]

On his way he came upon another, a wooden thing like them all in sword and armor. They did not block its way, but walked wordless by its side. Eliwold was unsure what to do.

Its name is Ector, Eliwold said. It seeks the Heart as well. He did not know what to do. Ector had promised they would help, but how could they be trusted? For the Father had told Eliwold that he alone was the chosen son. And the Father was right in all things.

One day it happened across a desert. A vast and burning place all red sand and burnt bone. It sat at the edge and wondered whether to enter.

It had spent only hours in the desert and already their armor was tarnished by heat. It carried a small sack of food. His waterskin, already empty.

It has been in the desert for days. The sun has bleached its wooden face a pale tan, and the sand has worn down his features even through his rusting helmet. He has no food, no water, and has not for days. They are still walking.

[Click] "Pawn?" (Eliwold's voice is hoarse from the wearing sand.] "Pawn!" (Dry from endless, parched heat.) "Pawn..." (Raw from so much use after so long a silence.) "Pawn! Pawn!" (Still he cries out.) [Click]

[Click] Eliwold's voice in hoarse, strangled tones. "It does not need to breathe-" [He's cut off with a choking sound for a moment.] "For its lungs are bellows and its throat only wood-" [Another choking pause.] "Yet it still suffers at the crushing out of air-" [Click]

It can't breathe. It can't breathe. It's still so deep below the sand. It can't breathe.

It can see a *light* He has been struggling for *so long* and they can see a *light* And they move toward it ever so slowly through sand that has turned to stone long ago.

He pushes the last distance to the tiny point of blue and And it shoves aside the stone with a four-fingered hand and And they push past the surface and Realize the blue isn't the sky and they aren't facing up and there's nothing but ocean below and 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭

f al li N g

[Click] (Rushing wind.) (A splash and then the muffled, roiling sounds of water.) [Click]

[Click] [The rattling, whirring sound of clockwork.] [Someone is whistling hollowly, a sound too much like a flute to be made by anything but wood. The tune is unfamiliar and unsettling.] [The song is interrupted as the whistler lets out a sudden laugh.] [Click]

Knock, Knock.

I Can Hear The Springs Unwinding And The Clockwork Again Whirring / Metal Clicks And Wood Folds As The Chosen Son Shows Signs Of Stirring.

[Click] (Eliwold's thin, hollow voice, coughing slightly.) "... Father?" (A voice much like his. Deeper, metallic.) "You Fell From A Height Even I Could Not Follow. / It Has Broken You Clean Where You Are Your Most Hollow." "Can you... fix me?" (Cruel laughter.) [Click]

I. I am awake.