The bells rang before he did.
Soft. Playful.
A gentle chime beneath the roar of a furious crowd.
Chains dragged across marble as soldiers forced him to his knees in the center of the royal courtyard. The sky above Arenthia was painfully blue the kind of beautiful day chosen on purpose for executions.
Symbolism mattered to kings.
Lorien Vale tilted his head.
The bells on his jester's cap chimed again.
He smiled.
Not a forced smile.
Not a trembling one.
A real one.
State your crimes, the High Priest demanded, voice echoing across the courtyard.
The crowd shouted before Lorien could speak.
Traitor.
Demon.
False prophet.
Lorien blinked slowly, as if mildly confused.
Oh my, he said brightly, I did all that before breakfast.
Murmurs spread.
The king gripped his throne's armrest.
Silence, the king commanded. Lorien Vale, you stand accused of conspiring to overthrow the crown. The prophecy has spoken. The Fool will end the Kingdom.
Lorien's smile widened slightly.
Your Majesty, he said gently, have you considered that perhaps the prophecy meant you shouldn't hire a fool in the first place
Gasps.
The prince lowered his gaze.
The queen didn't move.
The executioner stepped forward.
A massive blade gleamed in the sun easily six feet long, edges polished to ceremonial perfection.
Lorien stared at it.
He hummed.
You know, he said casually, that sword is compensating for something.
The executioner's hands tightened.
The king stood.
End this.
The blade rose.
For a moment just one silence fell over the courtyard.
Even the wind paused.
Lorien looked up at the sky.
He didn't pray.
He didn't beg.
He laughed.
Not hysterical.
Not broken.
Just amused.
"Ah," he whispered, "so this is the punchline.
The sword fell.
Steel met flesh.
The world turned red.
And then
It cracked.
A sound like glass splitting through the sky.
Not loud.
But everywhere.
The blue above fractured into pale lines of light. The crowd screamed. The executioner stumbled backward as Lorien's body collapsed
Still smiling.
The bells rang one final time.
Chime.
Chime.
Ch
Darkness swallowed him.
Silence.
Then white.
An endless, colorless expanse stretched in every direction.
Lorien stood there, whole again. No chains. No wound.
He looked down at his hands.
Hmm, he mused. Either I'm dead… or this is a very minimalist afterlife.
A voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Archetype fulfilled.
Lorien blinked.
Oh Did I win something
You have completed the role of The Fool.
A mask appeared before him porcelain white, painted with a thin crimson smile.
Cracks spidered across its surface, yet it radiated something ancient.
The Fool exposes truth through ridicule.
The Fool reveals corruption through laughter.
The Fool ends kingdoms by showing them what they are.
Lorien tilted his head.
So I did end it
The voice did not answer directly.
Ascension available.
The mask floated closer.
Authority of Mockery.
Conceptual Deconstruction.
Narrative Subversion.
Lorien stared at the mask.
Then he laughed softly.
You mean to tell me the joke isn't over.
A pause.
"It has only begun.
The mask fused to his face.
Pain did not follow.
Power did.
The white void rippled like disturbed water.
Lorien raised a hand experimentally.
What if he murmured, this place had color
The void blushed faint pink.
He froze.
Then grinned wider.
Oh, that's dangerous.
His laughter echoed deeper now, layered, resonant.
Back in Arenthia, in the royal courtyard, the sky continued to crack.
The king stared upward in horror.
Priests began chanting protection spells.
Too late.
A faint sound drifted across the capital.
Bells.
Soft.
Playful.
Closer than before.
In the white void, Lorien took his first step forward.
Alright then, he said cheerfully.
Let's see what happens when the Fool stops pretending.
The white shattered.