The party was deposited with all the usual pomp and ceremony of teleportation into the middle of a wide corridor. Qube had never been inside a mausoleum before — there’d been a small graveyard in the village where all the parents were buried, but that had been outdoors. The idea of storing the dead indoors made her feel almost cramped. She wasn’t even sure what was stored in a mausoleum — was it where all of a person’s inner loot was held? Was it filled with sacks of coins?

The gravestones made sense to her — they’d just had small plaques for the Potentials to stand around at and remember that they had no memories of their parents but presumably some people wanted more upright plaques— but why would someone need to keep a bunch of names inside a special house, separate from the other names?

Presumably there were ghosts involved in some capacity. Perhaps the mausoleum was to keep them trapped, like with the ghost that had given them Aurora Abode?

Now Qube thought about it, she wondered how the ghost had even managed to post a sign to the Adventurer’s Board. If she could have left the house to go to the board, then she could just have easily gone to fetch her sword. She’d physically penned and pinned a note — so she could manipulate matter. Unless she’d dictated it to someone? Perhaps someone who wasn’t brave enough to go get the sword themselves. Begrudgingly, Qube had to admit that this made sense.

She still hadn’t completely forgiven P. Charlemagne for tricking her into owning a house.

While she had been busy pondering the death rituals of her culture and the practicalities involved for ghosts seeking closure, the Chosen One had been busy studying the walls. They were made of a fancy-looking wood, with several large drawers carved into them, embossed with shiny gold lettering. The Hero frowned, and tapped on the wall.

The wooden walls were nothing like anything Qube had seen before. Unlike the normal properties of a wall, these ones looked odd, almost undefined. In a way, they reminded her of that time they’d broken into Construct Crossroad, and it had looked like an unfinished model of a town. It almost felt like she was looking at them with her eyes crossed or something.

The coffin in the middle of the crypt was also made of wood, but this wood looked sharp and shiny, seeming to reflect the light in a way designed to draw attention towards it.

“Have they not actually finished the texture on this or something?” the Chosen One muttered to himself. The others in the party had spread out among the space, each of them examining the walls and drawers with interest.

“I thought the Devs made this,” Qube confessed. “You mentioned they made the gravestones outside.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean they finished making everything,” the Hero said absentmindedly. “Sometimes mistakes happen, or they get stuff wrong. Especially with the time constraints they’re under.”

Everyone in the party had stopped to look at the Chosen One, who didn’t seem to realise what he’d said was important. Instead he was trying to open one of the stuck drawers.

“So some of the things in this world are a mistake…” Qube said.

“Would the Devs be seeking to correct their mistakes?” Sencha Bard asked the Chosen One.

“Not in this world,” the Hero replied. “It’s pretty much locked off.”

If the Devs could make mistakes… that was very different from things happening that they didn’t expect. That occurred with anything you made. But if they were leaving things unfinished, or making mistakes, then that meant…

Lights exploded within Qube’s mind as a horrifying thought struck her.

What if that meant that the Golden Prophecy could make a mistake?

The Devs had made the Golden Prophecy. The Devs could make mistakes. Therefore, the Golden Prophecy might contain mistakes.

Her entire worldview was rocked. All her life she’d grown up under the shackle of the Golden Prophecy. It had dictated her actions, her thoughts, the very trajectory of her existence. It was the hope of her people, the text by which they would be saved.

And it might be wrong?

Even when she’d met the Devs and realised they weren’t all-powerful, that had been permissible in her mind, because they’d been confused about the direction their creation’s offspring had gone. There’d never been the slightest hint that the creation itself might have been flawed.

She would have to review everything she had ever based her decisions off of and search for any hint that the Golden Prophecy had been leading her astray. Nothing would ever be the same. Even if it turned out that the Golden Prophecy was completely perfect, the notion that it might not be correct, a thought that had literally never crossed her mind before, had been born, casting a shadow of doubt over everything.

Perhaps that was why its concept of Good vs. Evil was less nuanced than reality? The Devs hadn’t finished fleshing it out, giving it all the gradations needed to properly capture the wide spectrum between light and dark.

Standing in the halls of the dead, Qube felt as if her whole life had been completely overturned.

“What does locked off mean in this context?” Definitely Bad Guy asked curiously, unaware of the crisis Qube was having.

“Well, cuz you guys are running around, they don’t want to do anything that might mess it all up,” the Chosen One said, running a finger along the oddly textured wall. “They can do some small things, but given no one has a clue what’s going on, it makes it hard to know what will impact what.”

He traced a finger over one of the names on a drawer. He looked wistful.

“They couldn’t even return me to my original form without potentially erasing my memories,” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady said. “Their control over their own world seems loose, at best. Not that I’m unhappy with that, darling. I would hate to feel them looking over my shoulder and attempting to correct me.”

“What kind of time constraints?” Sencha Bard asked.

“What are some things that have been genuine mistakes, or just plain wrong?” Qube asked, trying to conceal the churning emotions within her.

“They’ve got to present this world to a bunch of people,” the Chosen One said to Sencha Bard. “That said, I’m gonna make sure they show all you guys off, and not just try and take Qube or something like they did last time. No matter what, I’m gonna do my best to make sure you guys stick together. As for mistakes, mostly stuff like this, where they haven’t finished the texture properly.” He flicked the wall. “Or else just having stuff happen that really shouldn’t.”

He looked at Squiggles.

Squiggles happily danced.

Qube gathered her courage, and asked the question that burned within her. “What about the Golden Prophecy?” she asked. “Could that also contain mistakes?”

“Nah,” the Chosen One said, “that was one of the first things they did.”

“Oh,” Qube said, unsure if she should be pleased or disappointed that the document which had dictated her existence was most likely correct. She settled on feeling both at the same time.

The Chosen One finally walked away from the wall and went over the coffin in the middle of the rectangle room.

“Oh, neat,” he said, reaching over and prying two golden coins embedded into the lid of the coffin.

“Chosen One, please don’t steal from the dead,” Qube said faintly.

“No, it’s okay, these are collectibles,” the Chosen One said soothingly. “They’re meant for me to take.”

Qube, still feeling battered from her whole ‘world-shaking revelation that the thing that guided her into being a guided light might have misguided her,’ made a weak gesture and gave up trying to argue with the klepto-Hero.

“What makes you think the Golden Prophecy might be flawed?” Sencha Bard asked her very, very quietly. With a start she realised that the other three companions were looking at her.

“Well, it’s such an important text, that if something were wrong, the repercussions would be huge, so it’s something we should think about,” Qube said, aware even as she spoke that she wasn’t fully expressing the true extent of her thoughts, but unsure of how to convey the swirling mass within her mind.

“I think,” Sencha Bard said, even more quietly, “that just because they made it first, doesn’t mean it’s flawless.”

He watched her carefully as he spoke, and in his face she saw a reflection of a look the Chosen One used to give her. A kind of inhuman detachment, as if waiting to see how she reacted. She bit back an Understanding Smile and instead nodded thoughtfully.

“We also don’t know how much influence the Evil Devs have had over our world,” she replied, just as quietly as the Bard. “They might have interfered with it.”

“Perhaps, then, we should trust our own instincts and push past its suggestions?” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady suggested. “I have noticed the grip of it has loosened over time.”

The Chosen One, having finished examining the coffin, looked up at the group. Qube felt herself stiffen, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. But they were right. There was the possibility that the Golden Prophecy wasn’t perfect and they should discuss it.

Still, as he looked at them clustered together away from him, whispering to each other, he looked almost… hurt. The expression was gone so fast Qube couldn’t be sure she’d even seen it, and there was no trace of it as he loudly stretched and approached the group.

“Is it something about the Temple?” he asked cheerfully. “Or should I give you guys some space?”

“It’s about the Golden Prophecy,” Qube replied. “But we don’t want anyone Evil to overhear it.” She deliberately didn’t mention the word Dev, just in case that drew their attention to this conversation.

“Or anyone else,” Sencha Bard breathed, so quietly Qube couldn’t be sure if he’d even meant to say it out loud.

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it, we are literally made to defeat Evil,” the Hero said, clearly seeking to reassure them. “So whatever happens, we’ll just deal with it like we always do. Plus, there’s only like a verse or two to go, isn’t there?”

Sometimes the Hero made it all too obvious he hadn’t grown up in the village! Almost without thinking, Qube quoted:

“Then find in time’s endless halls

The echoes of their lost ones’ calls.

To slay what once was so adored

So what was lost can be restored.”

“Are you sure there’s only one Temple left?” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady asked. “Every other Temple only takes up two lines.”

Sencha Bard waved away her concern. “The first stanza also deals with a single location. Naturally, for symmetry, the last stanza could deal with a single location as well.”

“Do not forget that we must also travel to the castle and release the king and queen,” Definitely Bad Guy said.

Sencha Bard nodded wisely. “The Grand Vizier was once adored by them, so it implies he must be slain so they can return to ruling over the kingdom,” he said.

Qube snuck a glance at the Chosen One, expecting him to look bored, or have started to entertain himself while they discussed lore. Instead he was staring grimly at the ground. He jerked his backpack off his back and rummaged around in it, pulling out the crumpled Golden Prophecy.

He bent over the paper and scanned through it a few times, a frown gathering on his brow. He stole a quick glance at Qube.

“[Snacks],” he muttered. He shoved the sacred text back into his backpack and straightened up.

“Well, like I said, whatever is thrown at us, we’ll just roll with it,” he declared, his voice slightly strained. “The important thing is that we work together.”

That sounded more like something Qube would say. She blinked at the Hero. He gave her a rueful smile, no sign of the concern he’d had a moment before.

“Sorry, kinda stole your line there, didn’t I?” he asked, his smile increasing until it was his normal lopsided grin. “Guess you’re a bad influence on me.”

As she looked at him it occurred to Qube that, in his own way, the Hero had his own version of her Understanding Smile.

A terrifying thought.