The Game at Carousel: Book Four Stubs July 17th (Arc II Chapters 1- 85)

I awoke in the darkness.

In one hand, I held the plastic, fake version of the silver necklace that Clara had been wearing. In the other, I held a flashlight—one of the ones we had brought into the crypt.

As I clicked the light on and looked around, I realized there was no crypt anymore.

I was underground, and I could hear the earth around me shifting. I quickly crawled toward the exit.

No sooner had I pulled myself out of the hole and into the hallway of the underground passages than I heard the earth collapse behind me.

I found my way out of the tunnels to the large room where the caged werewolves had been, but they were gone. Logan and Avery had been cured and taken away.

I bounded up the steps and found myself in a version of the Manor house I hadn’t seen before—a version converted into a museum. None of the artifacts or exhibits had been placed yet. All I saw were empty glass display cases and placards with nothing on them.

Carousel really did reuse everything.

I left the Manor house behind and ran to the field where I had last seen Kimberly—the place she had been returned to after surviving the secret lore sequence. It had been a surreal experience to observe from my view in the theater.

Kimberly had been ushered through a bizarre maze of scenes from Clara Woolsey’s life.

Throughout her journey, a werewolf lurked just out of sight, but it never approached her. I couldn’t discern its purpose—perhaps a deadly obstacle, but it merely observed.

Kimberly had made it through, learning the truth about the werewolf curse.

The words of the faceless person in the theater echoed in my mind: how could we have found secret lore when we hadn’t spoken to the maid at the tavern?

What did that even mean? What tavern? What maid?

I dropped this train of thought as I found Kimberly kneeling in the field, tears streaming down her face. Taking a chance, I approached and hugged her. She hugged me back. After a moment, she asked something strange.

Wiping her tears, she looked at me and asked, “Do you think you do so well here in Carousel because it offers something that real life didn't?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere.

“I don’t know,” I said, unsure. I wasn’t finished sorting out those feelings myself.

She looked at me strangely and then said, “Never mind.”

I began pacing, watching the blue lights of our chemical traps go out around us.

“We did it,” I said after contemplating her words.

She nodded. “We did it.”

I tried to strike up a conversation about the ending—how we’d handled things when Serena was killed by Antoine—but the conversation was cut short when Antoine himself appeared in the distance.

Something was different about him. I couldn’t pinpoint what, but his smile and the joy on his face made it clear something had changed.

He had an aspect now—he was a Health Nut. It came with a new trope already equipped: The Mountain as a Metaphor. It would be an asset, though I couldn’t help but wish I’d seen his other aspect trope choices.

He and Kimberly embraced and whispered to each other while I stood awkwardly nearby.

The next to appear was Andrew. As he approached, I extended my hand.

“Good work, doctor,” I said.

“Yes, and you too,” he replied.

All our planning had paid off. We’d made mistakes, but we’d overcome them.

I was certain we’d given Carousel enough footage to construct a good film.

Andrew and I talked about the silver purification plan—how well we executed it and what adjustments we might have made had we better predicted how the weapon interacted with the werewolf curse.

It was idle chit-chat for us.

Finally, the people we had come there for—Logan and Avery—arrived, wearing the clothes they must have been lured into the monster’s lair in.

Though I had technically met them while they were caged, it was clear that wasn’t really them. They’d been exhausted and said very little, both On-Screen and Off-Screen.

Logan looked like he was heading to a casual beach wedding—tall, tan, with dirty blonde hair just long enough to brush off his forehead. He might have been in his mid-thirties, which led me to believe he had been de-aged to play Kirst’s son. He approached Andrew with a half-hug and several pats on the back.

“Did you understand what I was saying?” Andrew asked hurriedly. “Was it you in the cage? You didn’t respond.”

“I was in there,” Logan said, “but the script was in control.”

“So you heard about…” Andrew began.

“I heard everything,” Logan said. “Lila came to apologize during the storyline. Gave us a whole speech.”

“She does seem genuinely remorseful,” Andrew said.

“Well, it would be best for her to seem that way, given our circumstances,” Logan replied with a half-smile.

Avery, still shaken from the whole being-dead thing, smiled despite the tears in her eyes. She wore an oversized red sweater that wrapped around her fashionably, her red hair held back with a headband.

She was an Eye Candy with the Beauty aspect and her aspect choice made sense at a glance. She put a lot into her presentation.

Kimberly greeted her, and they talked for a while. Antoine introduced himself, putting his people skills to good use. I stood by, watching as our group of survivors grew a little larger.

Time passed. We waited.

“That makes you the Film Buff,” Logan said after a lull in the conversation.

“That’s me,” I replied, shaking his hand.

“So you’re the one who knows what’s going on, huh?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Nah, that's somebody else.”

He laughed—a sardonic laugh, not joyous.

“I look forward to stumbling through hell with you,” he said.

“You as well,” I replied, but my response was cut off as Lila appeared.

She didn’t say anything at first, and eventually, someone noticed her standing at a distance, afraid to approach. Her porcelain face was red with tears.

The next part? Antoine, Kimberly, and I didn’t listen. This was a group moment for them.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but there wasn’t anger—at least not from Logan. Avery, however, did seem to have some lingering resentment, which was more than understandable after having been lured into the jaws of the werewolves.

Logan, though, didn’t seem to care. I couldn’t see it anyway. He acted like all she had done was spill milk on his pizza.

Getting him and his friends killed? Don’t let it happen again.

An interesting attitude.

When their little group came back over to us, I heard him saying, “Next time you revive me, wait until the game is almost over.”

He had that little bit of darkness in him that made this place survivable. Dina had the same thing.

So did I, I supposed.

Finally, Michael arrived. He and Logan shared a big bear hug, complete with more of those slapping pats on the back. I didn’t get where that was coming from, but it must have been their group’s thing.

Good for them—their group was back together. Ours was still fractured, but not for long.

What happened next was no surprise. There was a small crack in the air, and suddenly, a mechanical man appeared, informing us that we had won a ticket.

Oh boy, had we won tickets.

Most of the time, I waited for others to go first, but I just had to know whether everything we had risked was worth it.

We had been down to one viable player in this storyline. If Antoine hadn’t regained his sense, if our plans hadn't worked, if Kimberly had died before she could get to the end, that would have been it—we would all have been gone.

I wondered if I would have been stuck in the theater, watching random camera angles for eternity.

I slapped that red button on Silas’s front before anyone else.

I got a handful—not as many tropes as I had anticipated, but not a small amount either. I got three.

It wasn’t really the tropes I was after, though.

It was the stat tickets because they would determine whether or not this whole “using rescues to grind levels when needed” thing was going to work.

And it did.

I got six stat tickets.

Six.

That was more than I had gotten when I was dragged along on The Grotesque—grossly under-leveled, at that. Of course, The Grotesque wasn’t exactly our best performance. It was a functional, clean victory—not designed to be fancy or to score high, but just to survive. Didn’t even really tell much of a story.

Six stat tickets explained why all those former players had been willing to risk it all to exploit the rescue mechanic. Why they had spent months scouting out rescue opportunities where they might find an edge.

It explained everything.

Our average level was around 27, and this storyline’s level had to be in the mid-30s. Most of the vets would never do something like that unless they had no other option.

We would have to do this over and over again, pressing our luck. Because when we got closer to level 40, things were going to slow down, and even running rescues would only get us a few stat tickets.

But we would have to do it.

We would have to keep pushing forward. And if the woman who stood behind me in the theater was correct, we would have to start doing more.

We might even have to do Carousel’s Throughline.

After all, the reward for that was supposed to be escape.

The stat tickets and the tropes weren’t all I got. We all also got fresh Luggage Tags with higher weight capacities. We got a couple of coupons to restaurants around Carousel that were supposed to allow us to eat there without risk of danger—but I would have to consult the Atlas to make sure those were what they seemed to be.

And finally, the biggest card in the lot:

We got secret lore.