I skip and jig my way down the road towards the miller’s mill as the sound of the calliope plays on and on and on and on and on and on and on. It never stops. None of it ever stops. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I respawn as a goblin, or as a slime, or as Miika, or as an eye, or you, or me. It doesn’t matter. Because no matter what, no matter what body I habit, no matter what shell I fill, like puss filling a cyst, because no matter which way my bones contort to make up my frame today, one thing will always remain constant.

The sound of the miller’s calliope.

  The sound that comes from his house. The sound that comes from the walls of the dungeon, from the floor, from the wires, from my eyes. That constant, pulsating hum, that droning that pushes through the whole dungeon. The constant roar that can be heard beneath the water. Remember that? Remember what I told you about that? I was a snake. I ate a fish! I ATE ITS EYES. It’s all the same sound. It’s the same sound. It’s all the same sound. It all goes -

“SAY Missus Dandelion,” I ask the MEAT FLOWER-MEAT FLOWER, dancing in my metal grasp, who sings along to the melody as I bob my way down the way. “What do you think about eyes?”

Swaying her long neck from side to side and waving her two petals around like arms she looks up to me. “About eyes, Mr. Lance-hero? Why… I love eyes!”

  I gasp in shocked delight, placing my lance hand up to cover my mouth. “Wowee! What a coincidence!” I say turning my head from side to side and lowering my hand again to lift her up to my face. “I love eyes too! What’s your favorite color of eye?” I ask Missus Dandelion. Misses, not Mrs. She’s unmarried, you know? You know? Yeah, you know.

  “Hmm…” she thinks, placing a petal to her chin. “Why, I think all eyes are perfectly wonderful!” says the flower, resuming her little dance. “They say the eyes are a window to the soul, you know?” she asks me, and I can’t help but notice the petal running down my upper arm. I blush, looking away. I’m too bashful for these kinds of things. It’s so embarrassing!

“Is that so?” I ask her, knowing the answer already full and well. I’m just trying to make small-talk, you know? It’s nice to talk while we walk.

“Why, yes it is!” says Missus Dandelion. “So you know what I think, Mr. Lance-hero?”

“What’s that, Missus Dandelion?” I ask her.

“I think it doesn’t matter what color an eye has, I think what matters is the twinkle!”

My spine cracks as my head snaps down to the bottom left in an unnatural motion. “A twinkle?” I ask with some excitement.

  “Why, of course! Every eye should have a twinkle! It’s the most beautiful thing there is!” says Missus Dandelion, holding her petals to her cheeks to hide her blushing, as she dances from side to side. “Having a spark in your eye shows that you believe in something! It means that your soul is shining brightly and that’s the most beautiful thing there is!”

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My eyes open wide.

“It’s very important, you know, Mr. Lance-hero?” she looks up to me. “We’ve all got to believe in something!” says the flower, finishing her explanation, giggling just ever so slightly.

  I nod in agreement with her, feeling as if I were smiling brightly. “You’re absolutely right, Missus Dandelion! We’ve all got to believe in something.” What a beautiful thing to say. I think for a moment, my eyes returning to the miller’s mill that we are almost in front of now. My boots thud against the stonework of the bridge as we begin to cross the little babbling river.

What an ugly thing it is, the mill.

  I’m almost a little upset that I got here before the hero did. I narrow my eyes in disgust as I look at the spinning blades of the mill. They spin and spin and spin. Around and around they go, never stopping, never stopping. They just spin and spin and spin and the song of the miller’s calliope just goes on and on and on. I look down over the water of the river, at the beautiful trickle of sparkling, lustrous wet that glimmers as if the sun were bouncing off of every inch of it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asks Missus Dandelion as we stare over the river together.

I nod, bobbing up and down and tapping my lance against the stones of the bridge as I do so. Ding. Ding. Clank. Ding. “Why, yes! It’s just perfectly splendid.” I narrow my eyes, looking at the river below us. “It’s twinkling!”

“Yes! It is!” says Missus Dandelion, seeing with those suspicious eyes. “Do you know why the water twinkles, Mr. Lance-hero?”

“Why is that, Missus Dandelion?” I ask curiously, the sound of the running river fills the world, not overpowering the churning of the music. But at least offering a minuscule respite from the droning tone.

She giggles, waving me off. “Because it believes in something!”

I tilt my head, confused. “The water? Whatever do you mean, Missus Dandelion?”

She holds her two petals together like clasped hands, leaning her left cheek against them as she stares up towards me with wide eyes that seem just a little too big for her sockets. “Because it never stops moving!”

My eyes look to her and then back to the water.

“The water is always twinkling, because it never stops moving. So the light can bounce off of every little ripple and perfect wave!” She sways a little from side to side. “Do you know what happens to sitting water, Mr. Lance-hero?”

I think for a moment, feeling like I’ve had this conversation before. “It stagnates?”

  “Indeed it does, Mr. Lance-hero!” She beams up to me. “That’s why it's important, you know? To always keep moving. To never stop. Because if you stop, you become ugly. If you stop, the lethargy will rot you away.” A petal places itself against my breastplate as I stare out over the water. “Do you feel that?”

I look down, wondering what it is that she means. Her petal runs against where my heart should be.

Thook-thook.

Thook-thook.

  She smiles a strange smile, her cheeks blushing. “Never let the water stop. Never let your heart stop beating. Never let the twinkle die out, Mr. Lance-Hero.” She leans in closer towards my face, closing her eyes as the water trickles onward. “Never stop chasing that strong feeling in your heart.” Her face moves closer to mine.

Thook-thook.

“Because if you do… I’ll be really sad.” She leans in closer. Too close.

Thook-thook.

Missus Dandelion giggles and I can feel her breath against my lips. “-Because I… I lo-“

CRUNCH

  I toss the dead flower down into the water, her body crushed in an instant by the vice-like grip of my gauntlet. Smashing my hands against the railing, I lean down to look at her dead body as she floats away on the surface of the water, as she stares at me with those eyes in her sockets. With those eyes that shine up towards me, mischievously with a blue glint hidden behind their sheen surface. It almost got me. It almost got me.

THOSE AREN’T HER EYES.

  They twinkle, as they watch me from the water. The inhabiter, the thing that crawled into her meat. The thing that reaches for me, even now down from the water. Her broken body twitches and spasms as the shattered bones in her flesh jolt and flail, splashing against the top as she is pulled down below the surface by the current.

I grip my face, making sure she didn’t get my eyes. That was close. It was close. I let it get too close. I let it get too close. Haha. Hahahah! Thanks for warning me guy, that would have been bad. That would have been…

I turn my head looking towards the door of the miller’s mill. My eyes shoot open wide, filling my skull just right, as I march towards the door and slam my boot against it, kicking it open wide.

“WHY HELLO THERE, MR. MILLER!” I shout with a deep, heartfelt CONVICTION.