Raviolo: Temporal Curse

<% window.updateTheme('red'); %> **Reminder:** You can't save in this game. 25 August 2033 You slowly wake up, the soft morning light filtering through the blinds of your bedroom. Something about this morning feels… off, though you can't put your finger on it. [[Continue->Bedroom]]

You stretch and glance at the door. Almost on cue, Stella enters, smiling brightly. Stella greets you cheerfully. *"Morning, Ravi! You slept well?"* You nod, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. [[Head to breakfast->Cafe]]

The facility’s café is quiet, humming with faint machinery sounds. You and Stella walk together down the sterile hallway. The scent of warm toast and brewed coffee fills the air, oddly comforting. Upon arriving, you both head to your respective wardrobes to change. [[Go to wardrobe->Wardrobe]]

You open your wardrobe and begin to get ready for the day. The soft light reflects off the polished wood as you pick your clothes. Then, you notice a strange glow emanating from the far corner of your wardrobe. The light pulses softly, almost inviting you closer. [[Reach for the glow->Blackout]]

As your hand moves toward the glow, the world around you dissolves. Your mind blacks out, leaving only darkness. A cold, unnatural silence follows. Meanwhile, in the adjacent wardrobe, Stella finishes putting her sandals on. Suddenly, a piercing scream echoes through the facility. That scream is your scream. *"What…?"* she mutters, freezing mid-step. [[Continue->Temporal Displacement]]

25 August 1930 The rhythmic lurching of the train cars finally slows to a halt. A heavy hiss of steam escapes from beneath the carriage, vibrating through the soles of your shoes. You wake with a start. The plush velvet of the seat feels scratchy against your neck. You don't remember boarding this train. You don't remember where it was supposed to go. The conductor’s voice echoes down the wood-paneled car, distant and hollow: _"Christopher Street. Greenwich Village. All change."_ <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Early-sunday-morning-edward-hopper-1930.jpg" class="painting">'); %> </div> You step onto the pavement. The air is sharp, carrying the metallic tang of the subway and the faint, sweet smell of roasted chestnuts. The sun is low, casting impossibly long shadows across the cobblestones. You find yourself standing in the middle of Seventh Avenue. It is quiet—disturbingly so for the heart of Manhattan. As your eyes adjust, the world begins to resolve itself, shifting from a blur into a gritty, ink-stained reality. The storefronts are empty. The streetlights look like skeletal sentinels. You are alone in the Village. Click. Click. Click. The sound of leather hitting the road comes from behind you. Before you can turn, the air tears open. A flash of light—not white, but a sickening, prismatic smear—swallows the street. The warmth of the New York sun is ripped away, replaced by a biting, soot-heavy chill. You aren't on Seventh Avenue anymore. <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Coming_from_the_Mill.jpg" class="painting">'); %> </div> You are in Pendlebury, Salford. The sky is a bruised grey, choked by the smoke of a dozen towering chimneys. Hundreds of flat, featureless figures move in a mechanical trance toward the mill. They don't see you. They don't see her. Lady E (Epsilon) stands atop a rusted iron bridge, her red leather boots stark against the grime. "You are a smudge on a clean page, Raviolo," she sneers, her Red Diamond earrings beginning to hum with a violent frequency. "You do not belong in this world. You are a ghost from a future that hasn't been written yet. And I am the eraser." She raises her hand. The air begins to bleed. [[Start Battle->Challenge 1]]

**The First Challenge:** Basic Arithmetic 1 + 1 = ? [[2->2 (Question 1)]] [[3->3 (Question 1)]]

2 + 3 = ? [[4]] [[5]] [[3->3 (Question 2)]]

The air doesn't just vibrate; it stutters. The numbers you provided hang in the smog for a heartbeat, flickering a sickly, pale white before turning into a jagged streak of crimson. You feel a sharp, cold pressure behind your eyes—the sensation of a memory being overwritten. Lady E doesn't move, but her sneer widens. "Incorrect, Raviolo. You're losing your resolution. Every mistake makes you a little less real, a little more like the flat, grey ghosts marching into that mill." The soot around your feet begins to crawl up your ankles like static. The world feels thinner, the colours draining away until there is only the grey of Salford and the violent, humming red of her boots. "Try again," she commands, her voice echoing as if from the bottom of a deep, iron well. "Before there is nothing left of you to save." [[Retry Battle->Challenge 1]]

18 - 4 = ? [[15->15 (Question 3)]] [[13->13 (Question 3)]] [[16]] [[14->14 (Question 3)]]

400 × 3 = ? [[1000]] [[1200]] [[1111]] [[1300]] [[1500]]

42 ÷ 9 = ? [[4 r 2]] [[4 r 6]] [[3->3 (Question 5)]] [[3 r 8]] [[4 r 5]] [[4 r 3]]

<% window.updateTheme('purple'); %> <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Escher,_The_Bridge.jpg" class="painting">'); %> </div> The "First Flush" of the manor's influence is over. You stand on the edge of the iron bridge, gasping. The air tastes of coal dust and ancient copper. You reach into your pocket, searching for the familiar weight of your smartphone or a New York subway card, but your fingers find only coarse, heavy wool. Your clothes are changing. The vibrant colours of the city are being bled out, replaced by the dull, functional fabrics of the 1920s. When you look at your hands, they seem slightly translucent, as if the resolution of your existence hasn't quite finished loading in this era. Behind you, the mill whistle screams—a long, agonizing metal wail that sounds suspiciously like a human throat. The workers don't look up. They simply march, their boots beating a rhythm that matches the arithmetic you just solved. One-two. One-two. The Red is beginning to curdle. As the soot settles, the edges of the factory chimneys begin to glow with a deep, bruised violet. The heat of the "First Flush" is receding, replaced by a heavy, suffocating weight. The air is no longer just hot; it is thick, like velvet pressing against your face. Lady E turns back toward you, her red boots now stained with a dark, plum-coloured grime. "The Red was just the introduction, Raviolo," she says, her voice vibrating with a new, lower frequency. "Now, we enter the bruise. The Velvet Grip is closing, and your mind must work faster to stay ahead of the stitching." The sky above Salford isn't grey anymore. It's Purple. [[Accept the Velvet Grip->Challenge 2]]

**The Second Challenge:** Potions and Patterns Match the pattern with the corresponding number in the sequence. Potion: Soot-Wine [1, 1, 2, 3, ?] [[4->4 (Question 6)]] [[5->5 (Question 6)]]

The numbers didn't just flicker this time; they bled. As your logic faltered, the deep violet sky of Salford curdled into a suffocating, oily black. The air, already heavy with the scent of bruised lilies, suddenly thickens until it has the consistency of wet velvet. You try to shout, but your voice is muffled, as if your throat has been lined with heavy fabric. You look down at your arms and see the "stitching" clearly now—dark, plum-coloured threads weaving directly into your skin, anchoring you to the rusted iron of the bridge. Lady E doesn't sneer this time. She simply watches, her Red Diamond earrings pulsing with a low, mocking violet hum. "You're becoming quite the exquisite tapestry, Raviolo," she remarks, her voice sounding as though it's coming through a thick curtain. "A pity you'll never be finished." The static crawl has reached your chest. The world is losing its depth, flattening into a two-dimensional print of soot and shadow. If you don't find the rhythm now, you won't just be a ghost—you'll be part of the background. [[Fight the Constriction->Challenge 2]]

Potion: Velvet Draught [2, 4, 8, 16, ?] [[31]] [[32]] [[33]]

Potion: Steam-Oil [1, 3, 6, 10, ?] [[12]] [[13->13 (Question 8)]] [[14->14 (Question 8)]] [[15->15 (Question 8)]]

Potion: Arterial Ink [1, 4, 9, 16, ?] [[21]] [[22]] [[23]] [[24]] [[25]]

Potion: Core-Acid [0, 1, 1, 2, ?] [[0]] [[1->1 (Question 10)]] [[2->2 (Question 10)]] [[3->3 (Question 10)]] [[4->4 (Question 10)]] [[5->5 (Question 10)]]

<% window.updateTheme('blue'); %> <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Wild_Weather_MET_ap50.111.jpg" class="painting">'); %> </div> The transition is not a fade, but a shatter. The bruised purple sky above the iron bridge cracks like cheap glass, revealing a void of terrifying, infinite Blue. A cold wind—not a breeze, but a deep-space vacuum—roars through the breach, flash-freezing the smoke rising from the chimneys into jagged obsidian sculptures. The mill-workers have stopped. One-two. One... nothing. They are frozen in mid-stride, grey statues in a cobalt world. Even the soot falling from the sky hangs suspended in the air, thousands of black pinpricks caught in a motionless web. Lady E stands at the centre of the fracture, her boots now a frost-bitten azure. "The system is leaking, Raviolo," she says, her breath blooming in the frozen air like a blue ghost. "Time is a sequence that has lost its thread. If you do not patch the hole, you will be frozen here—a single frame in a film that will never play again." To seal the rift, you must align the Subject with its *Relative Object*. One mistake, and the freeze becomes permanent. [[Retrace the Patches->Challenge 3]]

**The Third Challenge:** Matching Match the correct movie monster to how they were defeated. **Object:** Explosion [[Godzilla]] [[King Kong]]

Match the correct constant to its decimal value. **Object:** 0.5772 [[π->Pi]] [[γ->Euler's Constant]] [[θₘ->Magic Angle]]

Silence is a physical weight now. One second, the bridge was iron and grit. The next, the world is a single, unyielding block of blue ice. You can see your last breath hanging in front of your face—not as vapour, but as a cluster of jagged, stationary crystals. The patch failed. The relative objects didn't align, and the system just... locked. Look at your hands. They aren't yours anymore. They are blue-tinted artifacts, low-resolution geometry caught in a permanent freeze. Every mill-worker is a pillar of salt-stained glass. Lady E is a streak of frozen motion, her cape a stiff, sapphire blade cutting through the air that no longer moves. There is no "after" here. There is only this frame. You are the smudge on the lens, the error in the code, the fly in the cobalt amber. The clock hasn't stopped; it's been deleted. [[Restart Battle->Challenge 3]]

Give the correct identity the top prize won on Millionaire Hot Seat. **Prize:** A$1,000,000 [[Edwin Daly]] [[Hayley Bryant]] [[Paul Roast]] [[Will McCann]]

Give the anonymous identity the correct pair of shoes based on their prompt. **Prompt:** I like to dance with a partner. They say I'm like a swan. [[Ballet Shoes]] [[High Waders]] [[Rubber Boots]] [[Thongs]] [[Sneakers]] Thongs are also known as flip-flops.

Match the correct animal to the onomatopoeia. **Object:** Baa! [[Pig]] [[Dog]] [[Cow]] [[Sheep]] [[Chicken]] [[Porcupine]]

<% window.updateTheme('green'); %> <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Founding_of_the_Nation_by_Kawamura_Kiyoo.jpg" class="painting">'); %> </div> The frozen silence of the blue fracture is replaced by a wet, heavy thrumming. You watch as the iron chimneys of Salford dissolve into towering, gnarled trunks of ancient cedar and pine. The cobblestones beneath your boots turn to a carpet of thick, damp peat that breathes with every step you take. This is not a natural forest. The leaves are a sickly, glowing emerald, dripping with a translucent slime that smells of copper and bile. The mill-workers haven't returned to life; they have become trellises. Vines of thorny ivy weave through their ribcages, and white shelf-fungus blooms across their sightless eyes. Lady E is waiting in a clearing where the sun never reaches. She is draped in a cloak of living moss, her red boots now caked in a dark, toxic mulch. "The machine has been reclaimed, Raviolo," she whispers, the sound like dry leaves skittering over stone. "Nature is just another system, and right now, it is hungry. The air is thick with spores that want to turn your lungs into a garden. If you do not patch the ecology, you will become the soil." The forest is a chemical equation written in chlorophyll. To survive the fog, you must **pick which direction to go**. No hints, just pure **memorisation**. [[Go Explore->Challenge 4]]

**The Fourth Challenge**: Fork in the Road **Fork 1** [[1->1 (Question 16)]] [[2->2 (Question 16)]]

**Fork 2** [[1->1 (Question 17)]] [[2->2 (Question 17)]] [[3->3 (Question 17)]]

The thrumming in the air stops, but the forest doesn't go silent. It begins to digest. Because you chose poorly, the fog didn't lift—it thickened into a heavy, emerald soup. You try to shout, but your lungs feel like they've been stuffed with damp wool. You look down at your chest and see the first pale, white shoots of shelf-fungus blooming through the buttons of your coat, weaving directly into your ribs. The ecology has reclaimed you. Lady E is a flicker of red moving through the deep mulch, her voice replaced by the wet, rhythmic pulsing of the moss under your feet. You aren't dying. You are being converted. Your memories are being replaced by the slow, chemical crawl of photosynthesis. Your pulse is slowing to the speed of a tree's growth, and your eyes are filming over with a translucent, green sap. The system has turned you into soil. [[Use Your Knowledge->Challenge 4]]

**Fork 3** [[1->1 (Question 18)]] [[2->2 (Question 18)]] [[3->3 (Question 18)]] [[4->4 (Question 18)]]

**Fork 4** [[1->1 (Question 19]] [[2->2 (Question 19)]] [[3->3 (Question 19)]] [[4->4 (Question 19)]] [[5->5 (Question 19)]]

**Fork 5** [[1->1 (Question 20]] [[2->2 (Question 20)]] [[3->3 (Question 20)]] [[4->4 (Question 20)]] [[5->5 (Question 20)]] [[6->6 (Question 20)]]

<% window.updateTheme('black'); %> <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Castrovalva_(M._C._Escher).jpg" class="painting-glitch">'); %> </div> Salford is no longer a city, but rather a series of failed sketches drifting in a black sea. The iron chimneys have lost their geometry; they are just jagged, charcoal smears against a sky that has been erased. You aren't breathing air anymore—you are inhaling the dust of a dying world. Lady E is a hole in the shape of a woman. She stands where the bridge used to be, her Red Diamonds the only things in existence that still have a colour. "The page is full, Raviolo," her voice is a digital stutter, a ghost in the wires. "There is no room left for your character. The ink is being reclaimed. If you want to exist, you must find the one word I haven't yet found a reason to delete." The text below is dissolving. The margins are closing in. [[Fight Back->Challenge 5]]

**The Fifth Challenge:** Odd One Out Find the odd one out from these objects. Which Arabic letter is uncommon? [[س->Sīn]] [[ج->Jīm]] [[گ->Gāf]]

Because you failed to find the odd one out, the "Black Power" of the void has finalised its edit. The newspaper columns of Salford haven't just vanished; they’ve been bleached. The iron bridge, the mill-workers, and even the air itself have been scrubbed from the record, leaving behind nothing but the raw, unrendered static of a dead system. You are no longer Raviolo. You are a typo in a deleted file. Look at where your hands used to be. There is no blue frost, no purple stitching, and no green rot. There is only an empty, white-noise vacancy. Lady E is gone, her Red Diamonds the last things to flicker out, leaving you alone in a high-resolution nothingness. The system has closed your thread. You aren't a ghost in the machine; you are the space where the machine used to be. The page is blank. The record is clean. [[Retry->Challenge 5]]

Which of these words is an adverb? [[quietly->Quietly]] [[timely->Timely]] [[polyphyly->Polyphyly]] [[megacephaly->Megacephaly]]

Which is the only composite number? [[227]] [[191]] [[221]] [[167]] [[107]]

Which colour is part of the Froot Loops Cereal released in the USA, and not worldwide? [[Red]] [[Orange]] [[Yellow]] [[Green]] [[Blue]] [[Purple]]

Which Crayola colour name has been discontinued? [[Jazzberry Jam]] [[Dandelion]] [[Electric Lime]] [[Cerulean]] [[Midnight Blue]] [[Wild Strawberry]] [[Macaroni and Cheese]]

<% window.updateTheme('white'); %> The black silence of the redaction is suddenly detonated by a flash of pure, clinical white. It isn't light—it is an overexposure of reality. The charcoal smears of Salford are bleached away, replaced by a world of marble, steam, and silver. The iron bridge is now a gleaming arc of bone-white quartz, and the mill-workers have been rendered as statues of salt, their featureless faces turned upward toward a sun that is too bright to be real. You are standing in the center of the Divination. Lady E is a silhouette of blinding silver. Her red boots are the only stable points in a landscape that is dissolving into glare. She holds a prism between her fingers, and as the light passes through it, the world stutters. "The ink was too slow, Raviolo," she says, her voice sounding like the chime of crystal against crystal. "So we have switched to the spectrum. I am hiding in the refraction, tucked away in a shade you aren't meant to see. If you cannot spot the impurity in the light, the glare will burn your name out of the book forever." [[Turn Down the Light->Challenge 6]]

**The Sixth Challenge:** Spot the Difference Find the shade of colour that is not the same as the others. Palette 1: <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Light Puzzle/1.jpg" class="full-color-puzzle">'); %> </div> [[1->1 (Question 26)]] [[2->2 (Question 26)]] [[3->3 (Question 26)]]

Palette 2: <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Light Puzzle/2.jpg" class="full-color-puzzle">'); %> </div> [[1->1 (Question 27)]] [[2->2 (Question 27)]] [[3->3 (Question 27)]] [[4->4 (Question 27)]]

Because you failed to spot the impurity, the "White Power" of the spectrum has surged to 100% output. The silver rays didn't hit the floor—they hit you. You feel your retinas fuse into a single, white-hot point of perception. There is no iron bridge, no Salford, and no Lady E. There is only a high-fidelity scream of pure, clinical radiance. You are being bleached. Look at your silhouette. It is no longer a shadow; it is a hole in the glare. Your memories of the New York subway, the smell of roasted chestnuts, and even the sound of your own name are being scorched away. You are a photographic plate that has been exposed to the sun for too long—a featureless, over-bright square of nothing. Lady E’s voice is the last thing to go, sounding like the shatter of a thousand glass prisms. "You wanted the light, Raviolo. Now you are the light." The record isn't just closed; it's been burned white. There is no ink left to re-write you. [[Nonsense->Challenge 6]]

Palette 3: <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Light Puzzle/3.jpg" class="full-color-puzzle">'); %> </div> [[1->1 (Question 28)]] [[2->2 (Question 28)]] [[3->3 (Question 28)]] [[4->4 (Question 28)]] [[5->5 (Question 28)]]

Palette 4: <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Light Puzzle/4.jpg" class="full-color-puzzle">'); %> </div> [[1->1 (Question 29)]] [[2->2 (Question 29)]] [[3->3 (Question 29)]] [[4->4 (Question 29)]] [[5->5 (Question 29)]] [[6->6 (Question 29)]]

Palette 5: <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Light Puzzle/5.jpg" class="full-color-puzzle">'); %> </div> [[1->1 (Question 30)]] [[2->2 (Question 30)]] [[3->3 (Question 30)]] [[4->4 (Question 30)]] [[5->5 (Question 30)]] [[6->6 (Question 30)]] [[7]]

<% window.updateTheme('brown'); %> <div class="image-container"> <% print('<img src="Images/Landscape_with_Flowers_Krajina.jpg" class="painting">'); %> </div> The clinical white glare doesn't fade; it rusts. The marble and silver of the Divination are overtaken by a sudden, aggressive surge of brown. It is the colour of wet earth, rotting wood, and the deep, tangled thorns of the Hedge. The iron bridge is no longer iron—it has been choked by vines that pulse like arteries. The smell of the mill is gone, replaced by the heavy, intoxicating scent of the "Poisonous Flowers" from a half-remembered France. Lady E stands in the thicket, her red boots sinking into the dark mulch. She looks smaller now, more feral. Her boots are covered and filled with the icky mulch which she's happily squelching. "The system has run out of logic, Raviolo," she whispers, her eyes reflecting the tangled canopy above. "The math, the frost, and the glare... they were just masks. This is the truth of the Manor: a wild, hungry growth that doesn't care about your resolution. Here, there is no skill. There is only the luck of the Beast." To cross the final bridge, you must pass through five layers of the Hedge. The wild will roll the dice for you. If you fall, the thicket will remember where you tripped. [[Roll the Die of Fate ->Brown_Roll_1]]

<% s.roll1 = Math.floor(Math.random() * 20) + 1; %> You roll a <%= s.roll1 %>. <% if (s.roll1 >= 10) { %> SUCCESS. The thorns part like a curtain. You move deeper into the mulch. [[Proceed to the Second Layer->Brown_Roll_2]] <% } else { %> FAILURE. The thorns catch your coat. You are dragged back to the start of the clearing. [[Try Again (Checkpoint 1)->Brown_Roll_1]] <% } %>

<% s.roll2 = Math.floor(Math.random() * 20) + 1; %> You roll a <%= s.roll2 %>. <% if (s.roll2 >= 10) { %> SUCCESS. You hold your breath as the poisonous spores drift past. [[Proceed to the Third Layer->Brown_Roll_3]] <% } else { %> FAILURE. You inhale the yellow dust. Your vision blurs, and you stumble back. [[Try Again (Checkpoint 2)->Brown_Roll_2]] <% } %>

<% s.roll3 = Math.floor(Math.random() * 20) + 1; %> You roll a <%= s.roll3 %>. <% if (s.roll3 >= 10) { %> SUCCESS. You skip over the pulsing roots before they can snap shut. [[Proceed to the Fourth Layer->Brown_Roll_4]] <% } else { %> FAILURE. An iron vine loops around your ankle. [[Try Again (Checkpoint 3)->Brown_Roll_3]] <% } %>

<% s.roll4 = Math.floor(Math.random() * 20) + 1; %> You roll a <%= s.roll4 %>. <% if (s.roll4 >= 10) { %> SUCCESS. Something large moves in the shadows, but it lets you pass. [[Proceed to the Final Layer->Brown_Roll_5]] <% } else { %> FAILURE. The growl in the dark sends you sprinting back in terror. [[Try Again (Checkpoint 4)->Brown_Roll_4]] <% } %>

<% s.roll5 = Math.floor(Math.random() * 20) + 1; %> You roll a <%= s.roll5 %>. <% if (s.roll5 >= 10) { %> CRITICAL SUCCESS. You break through the final wall of flowers. The sun of 2033 is visible through the gap. [[Escape the Manor->Ending]] <% } else { %> FAILURE. The Hedge is thickest here. It refuses to let its nutrient go. [[Try Again (Final Checkpoint)->Brown_Roll_5]] <% } %>

You break through the final wall of flowers, expecting the sun of 2033. Instead, you see Lady E standing over your bed in the facility, her hand hovering over your brow. The "sunlight" is just the flickering fluorescent tube of the lab. "The Hedge doesn't let go, Raviolo," she whispers. "It just resets the ink." You feel the memories of the soot, the purple bruise, and the cobalt freeze being vacuumed out of your skull. You are being "saved" back to a blank state. But as her hand descends to strike, your body moves on its own—a phantom reflex from a journey you no longer remember. You ward off her attack with a sharp, instinctive motion. She smiles. It's the smile of an editor starting a fresh page. "Again, then." [[Wake Up->Start?]]

# Raviolo: Temporal Curse **Scripting:** Ravi's World **Styling:** Ravi's World **Based on:** • Krypt of Krandom by LightPotatoDev from Geomerty Dash (Level ID: 128386467) - Lady Ε's Powers • Dungeons & Dragons - d20 Rolling Mechanic **Made for:** <a href="https://itch.io/jam/gaming-like-its-1930">Gaming Like It's 1930 Jam</a> <a href="https://itch.io/jam/themed-horror-game-jam-23">Themed Horror Game Jam #23</a> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRhal9PyMmPttbSB7YvDoUY3SHRxfJ2qJ">Raviolo The Magician</a> **Special Thanks:** • Canva for the Light Puzzle • Everyone who played this game. © <%= new Date().getFullYear() %> Ravi's World. Licensed under CC0.

<% window.updateTheme('red'); %> 25 August 2033? You slowly wake up, the soft morning light filtering through the blinds of your bedroom. Something about this morning feels… off, though you can't put your finger on it. [[Continue->Bedroom?]]

You stretch and glance at the door. Almost on cue, Stella enters, smiling brightly. Stella greets you cheerfully. *"Morning, Ravi! You slept well?"* "Stella, please listen," you say, your voice cracking with a weight you can't quite explain. You grab her wrist gently but firmly. You tell her to not go into the wardrobe today. You tell her that the wood is older than it looks, that the darkness inside isn't just shadow, and that the "ink" is running thin. She looks at you with a mix of confusion and genuine concern, but for the first time in a thousand loops, she stays by the bed instead of crossing the room. The air in the facility stutters. Somewhere, a diamond stops pulsing. And the timeline fades out of obscurity. [[Credits]]