ravari trudges down the dirt path he has been condemned to walk for the rest of eternity. his feet ache horribly and his sanity is dwindling. yet he presses on, to keep what little hope he has alive, the hope that he may someday reach the end of the road and be freed from this pedestrian prison.

as he walks, he looks up and spies a dark figure in the distance. he sighs. countless times he has seen figures like these, and countless times he has watched them fade away. hallucinations, his mind playing tricks on him after eons of isolation. this time, he presumes, is no different.

however, as he approaches, the figure does not fade away. instead, it grows in his vision, becoming darker and clearer. this is no hallucination. something, or someone, is there, waiting for him. his eyes widen. with renewed spirit, he forces himself into a jog. his feet scream in pain, yet he does not slow down. this could be it, he thinks. the end of the road. the end of his torture. freedom.

he strides up to the figure. it does not react to his arrival. he cannot discern its face, but he notices a silver name tag on its body: "critelli". the name sounds familiar to him, though it has been so long that he cannot recall where he knows it from. too tired to ask questions, he simply stares at the figure, waiting and hoping for something to happen.

an hour passes, maybe two. he begins to suspect that he was wrong, that this too has simply been one of his mind's more elaborate ruses. eventually, he dejectedly turns away from the figure to walk past it. but right before he can continue walking, the figure suddenly speaks in an australian accent:

"hey. you're going the wrong fucking way."