You embrace Kate. Her warm lips surround yours and she wraps her arms around you before something cold and sharp pierces between your ribs. You stagger backward and try to grasp the handle of a dagger lodged in your left side. Your bloodied fingers fail to grip, slipping off the hilt.

Kate sneers at your passing life. "You conceited fool," she says. "How could you ever think that I could love anyone else but my master Davy?"

You're unsure how you have failed to finish your journey or how you could ever win against the villains conspiring against you.

Better luck next time.

Do you want to: