Voluminous Endings

(assuming the player survived)

Watching the last of the battle rage from the boat as the world tears itself apart fighting itself in three forms before collapsing in on itself painfully into a single point of light darting through the skybox.

They watch the nothingness a moment and turn for the rest of the survivors, as many or few as happened to make it on their own intelligence and luck.  

The passage of time, sleeping stacked with the cargo and animals who found the dock in the funneled streets.  

On the fore deck spotting the isle ... 

Choosing another volume where it all begins again and where now the survivors are the excess population, or if one's already played all three (or is just ready to move on) ~

('Harder than You Think' by Public Enemy)

Death now awaits at the shore in place of Gabrielle, the Explorer as crow flying to his waiting wrist.  And Death is Death.  

 

Not like the tarot card, Death is not transformation.

Death has a sickle, a skull for a face, and wears a big black cloak.  The sickle collapses its blade along the length of the pole, can extend straight like a pole-arm sword, reverse curved.

The skin of the face grows as though windswept from past the cheeks and forehead, sweeping down across the form to completion at the chest.  

 

So pale that where skin begins and bleached bone ends is debatable.  So dead as not to question what color it may have once been if ever it had any, simply devoid and featureless like a sketchpad to hold an idea.

One may believe a face had been sandblasted off the bone by time itself, leaving only the eyes deep in their sockets suspended from the remaining inset brow.

No ears because Death does not hear your pleas, while inside the mouth is only what's needed to speak and to satisfy the needs of a now living hunger.