The Holder Series 101-150

101. Holder of Cognition

In any city, in any country, in any hotel, there is a room that is never available. Ask the clerk at the front desk to give you the “best room on the ninth floor”. It doesn’t matter if the hotel is not nine stories tall. The clerk will be overcome with a look of fear, and they will rush to the back room. The manager of the hotel will come out and silently lead you to an elevator in the basement of the hotel. The elevator will have several buttons with unrecognizable symbols. Press any three buttons in quick succession, and the elevator will descend. When the elevator stops, you will be in a clean and well-lit hallway. Walk into the room at the end of the hallway.

Inside the room will be three windows, one on each wall. One window will display a view as if you are a few dozen stories up in the middle of an ambiguous city. The second will display a view as if you were in the middle of a foggy forest. If you look through the third window… well, then the next fool to seek these objects will find nothing more of you than your blood on the walls and floor of this room.

Spend three days in the room with no food or water, never looking at the third window. You may leave the room and exit the hotel at any time, but you will be plagued by dreams of unimaginable suffering for the remainder of your life. Should you remain within the room for three days, you will be suddenly overcome with absolute knowledge of the human mind. Many go mad at this point. If you survive the rush of information, call aloud: “What was He thinking?” As soon as you finish speaking, you will be told.

You are now Holder of Cognition. Your thoughts are Object 101 of 538.

102. Holder of the Soul

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Soul”. Should a conspiratorial look come over the worker’s face, he or she will raise one finger to his lips in a gesture of silence, and hand to you a small glass ball.

Should you choose to look at this glass ball, you will see that half of it is pitch black, the black of deepest night, while the other half is made of the purest, soft, golden light of a happy summer day. The funny thing is that no matter how hard you stare, you will never be able to tell which half is which.

Now is your last chance to leave. Should you throw down the glass ball, it will shatter, and you may leave and continue a normal life, but never again will you have this opportunity. Should you decide to continue, enter any door that you see. You will find yourself at the beginning of a path.

The path itself is made of the cheapest of stone squares. They barely fit together, and weeds spring up between the cracks, but it is not the path that will attract your attention. To the right of the path you will see scenes of happiness, joy, and love. However, if you look closely, you will see that these scenes are not nearly so pure as they seem. To the left of the path you see scenes of misery, deprivation, and hopelessness. However, if you look closely, you will see that these things are not as bad as they seem.

You must follow the path. It will curve off to both sides from its starting position, but never will it fully enter either set of scenes. Should you be fooled by either of the scenes and step off the path, you will be stuck in the scene forevermore. Take care not to trip.

Should you reach the end of the path, you will find a large oak door. The door will have no hinges, knob, or any sort of decoration. Speak aloud the phrase, “The Sides are the Same,” and the door will disappear. Say anything else and the door shall not move.

Upon entering the room you will see nothing, but feel as though you are being watched from all sides. Say to the invisible presences, “I walked down the Middle. ” Should you say anything else, half of the unseen creatures will rip you to pieces.

If you spoke the correct phrase, you will hear them. Half will scream, boo, or hiss. The other half will try to begin to tell you of your foolish mistake. However, if you listen carefully, you will hear a small applause. Close your eyes and walk toward this applause. When all sound stops, you will find yourself outside the door you first entered, holding the glass ball.

That glass ball is Object 102 of 538.

103. Holder of the Pact

In any city, in any country, go to any large forest you can get yourself to. When you enter, walk until darkness falls, getting as deep into the forest as you can. When the sun vanishes on the horizon, ask to visit someone who calls himself ‘The Holder of the Pact’. A chilling wind will rise up behind you, biting into your skin. Walk further into the forest. As dusk settles into night, you will come upon a rustic stone well and a hooded man standing near it. Walk to the well and stand on the opposite side of him. Sounds, faint and far away, will emit from the well. Do not look into the well, for even a glance will erupt horrors unto your mind and drive you to lunacy.

In a dark, crooning voice, he will ask you your name. Tell him the truth — a dismal fate is all that awaits a liar. Your name will echo in the well. The sounds will grow excited and louder with your name. Hushed voices below whisper your name, barely audible above the growls. Hold out your hand over the well, and the hooded man will chant in a tongue that makes your knees weak, and your body shake with chills. He will slice your hand with a dagger, and your blood will drip down into the well. The sounds will grow louder, almost unbearably so. The whispers of your name will become moans of want, calling you to the well. The hooded man will respond to only one question: “Who else has made this Pact?”

The noises in the well will quiet down as he answers. He will answer you in times dating back before books, explaining the life of each person who has ever made this pact, hundreds of people. Many had different reasons for doing it, and some had the same reasons as you. No matter the reason however, they all shared the same fate. The hooded man will tell you their cruel death and their pitiful existence thereafter. All of them were thrown into damnation, their afterlife filled with torturous hells that make your skin ache and your stomach sick. He tells you of one person, the only person who successfully gathered them all together. Once his story is finished, dawn will be nearly broken. An onyx black velvet hand will emerge from the pitch black well. Telling where the well ends and the arm begins is impossible. The hand will be clutching a black heart. Take it with your uninjured hand.

The Dark Heart is Object 103 of 538.

104. Holder of the Hearing

In any city, in any country, go to any nightclub you can get yourself to. If you can muster your courage seek out the DJ booth. Knock thrice on the door, but do not wait for a reply before opening. Once inside do be sure to close the door behind you. Please know that under no circumstance should you let the DJ speak for he is a trickster and would love nothing more than to lead you to a most gruesome fate. He was once a Seeker like yourself, you see, and would do anything to be free once more. Ask the DJ to play The Holder of The Hearing. Should the DJ ignore you, then leave the club as inconspicuously as you can. The patrons, failed seekers all, will soon know your presence and try to make you stay through whatever means necessary. Should the DJ smile grimly, on the other hand, you are free to try for this Object. He will point to a black trunk in the corner you will not have noticed before. Open the trunk and climb inside. You should thank the DJ; it never hurts to be polite. Close the lid and shut your eyes as you begin to fall.

In the all encompassing darkness you should feel your feet hit solid, albeit vibrating, ground. You are not yet safe, though, and you should not open your eyes. It is not certain how long you will wait in this blackness, but do not open your eyes or show any sign of impatience. This Holder is studying you, judging you, and it is your doom should you be found wanting. The only time you should utter a sound is if the vibrating beneath your feet stops. At this point quickly throw your left arm out, palm up, and shout, “Continue the song, I implore, lest it be ever silent!” The vibrating should come back. If it does not, then I would suggest keeping your eyes closed.

If the vibrating comes back or is uninterrupted you will eventually hear a woman humming by your ear and stroking your hair as a mother would her beloved child. Open your eyes, but continue facing forward even though you see Her lithe fingertips in the corner of your vision. Any hesitation or incorrect question at this point will be your undoing. Steel your resolve, and in a gentle voice ask, “What do They hear that We do not?”

A piercing cry will ring out all around you ever growing in magnitude. From the black plane in front of you a hand, fetid and grey, will break through the darkness. Out will crawl a woman’s corpse screaming with the voice of every victim and mourning lover. She has been long dead and awaiting this question from You, dear Seeker. In her haste to get to you she will tear her flesh and break her bones, but do not step back or show the repulsion you will surely feel. Ask again your question in a tender voice, though your heart breaks at the sound of her cries, and your stomach turns at the sight of her rotted form. She will crawl up your body and cup your face in her hands. Her eyes, long dried, will roam over your face, and her jaw will quiver with the pain of a childless mother. “I will give you the means to know, but do not begrudge me what you learn,” she will say as she presses her putrid lips to your own in a most passionate kiss. You will pass out.

You will wake up in a burned out shell of a building, In your hand will be a pair of headphones emitting a murmured hum. If you listen very carefully, you can make out what sounds like words.

These headphones are Object 104 of 538.

105. Holder of the Voice

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to view something known as “The Holder of the Voice”. The worker may try to hide a brief look of panic, but will eventually compose himself. He will throw you a small, black, unmarked plastic bag, and walk away irrationally. You do not have to follow him, but something will bid you to trace his footsteps.

You will pass through a dimly lit hallway with panoramic windows for walls. Regardless of the time of day, the outdoors will appear to be dark. Should you look out the windows you will see only an endless stretch of woods. If you think you see motion in the woods, do not turn away. Keep walking up towards the end of the hall.

There will be no door, only a blank wall with peeling wallpaper. The worker will tear the wallpaper off just a bit, then flee into the shadows. When you inevitably finish tearing the wallpaper, a small, dusty attic room will be revealed. In the center sit two objects: a small doll and a tape recorder. Both are ancient and coated in dust.

If you examine the doll, you will see a small metal crank on it. Wind the crank and the doll will emit a sound somewhat akin to fingernails scratching against wood.

Press play on the tape recorder. It will play even if there are no batteries. There will be the muffled sound of a female voice in distress. You will not be able to make out the words. It will go on and on until you press stop.

The final decision facing you will be whether or not you should play the two sounds together. The bag given to you will contain two rusted railroad spikes. You know what you will do.

The moment you attempt to start both sounds at the same time, the ground will begin to shake, and the room around you will begin to crackle and start coming apart. If you were to survive the collapse of the building, you will be haunted by a sound so shrill and grating that should you remain listening to it for even a small amount of time, you shall bleed from the ears until death. Even before that, you will feel strongly compelled to impale both of your eardrums with the railroad spikes.

Your only hope is to, through the evil sounds piercing the air, nail the doll and tape recorder to the floor where you stand.

Should you succeed, you will find a tape inside the broken tape recorder. It is unplayable and emanates a buzzing hum if you listen closely.

That Object is 105 of 538.

106. Holder of Intuition

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Intuition”. The receptionist will stand and lead you to a blank white door, but will not open it. Nor will you be able to. Return to the desk and wait for the receptionist to return as well. Repeat your request and wait silently while the receptionist fishes a keyring from the desk.

The keyring will have twenty keys, of various sizes, shapes, and colors. If you return to the door, you will not know which key to use to open it, and using the wrong one will freeze your body at the doorway for eternity. Return to the desk again and ask for “the final piece of this puzzle”. The receptionist will ask for your forearm and slice a fine line with a razor from the inner elbow to the palm. The receptionist will then sit back down and will fall totally silent, responding only to one question, “How will I find the truth?”

He or she will respond, “Though the truth is elusive, you will now be helped in finding it,” and disappear.

You will glance down at the cut and find that it is now glowing the most brilliant white. Startled, you will drop the keys and the glow will vanish. On picking up the keys again, you will find that the white glow returns only when you hold the correct key. If you can maintain your composure after this, move on and use the key to open the door. Pass through the door and you will find yourself in a circular white room with twenty more doors. Point at each of the doors in turn, and your cut will glow the same brilliant white when pointing at the correct door. Take that door (the others lead to a trapdoor to an eternal fall) and you will be at the desk again, but a woman in a red coat will be sitting at the desk in place of the receptionist. She will ask for your forearm and rub her index and middle finger along the cut. It will glow strongly to your touch and you will feel a sensation of cold so overpowering that you’d prefer to have it lit aflame. Make no move, however extreme the sensations; simply stand there, as still as you can be, until she is done, at which point she will turn and leave the room. Do not follow her, or your quest so far will be for naught as you will die an unimaginably painful death.

Looking back to the desk, you will find a slip of paper that the woman has left behind. Picking it up, you will read, “Whenever you find yourself lost, you will again be pointed in the right direction.”

Your path finding cut is Object 106 of 538.

107. Holder of the Blue

In any city, in any country go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Blue”. The worker will take a step back and rustle through a drawer. Should they take their eyes off you, or you off them, run. They will alert the Holder, and the fate of all those in the room will be sealed. Should they hand you an old notebook, take it, turn, and look for a chair. It will be blue, and marked “Fresh Paint”. The seat is dry. Sit in it and open the book. Look carefully. It will be filled with gibberish and pointless drivel. Look for writing on a page in an ink that matches the chair. This will tell you vital words, but they change each time this Holder is called upon.

Return the notebook to the clerk. They will wave you to a blue door with a paper sign on it. Lift that paper to reveal an arcane mark. Touch that mark with your hand and say the first vital word. Do not move your hand, even when ice covers it. Move your hand only when the door swings away. Blue halogen lights drown this hallway in light. There will be five doors ahead of you, Two on each side and one at the end. Go to each of the doors, first on the left, then the right, then the end. Say the second vital word at each door. If you think about it, this word will tell you which door is the right one.

Each door carries with it different trials. We Who Write have yet to test each door. Know this, regardless of what horrors await you, the third vital word will keep your mind from bleeding into madness. Meditate on it well. At the end, you will find a pedestal with a book and pen. It will detail your every step from the moment you realized the Objects were real. Read through this book to the end. At the first blank space, take up the pen and write the fourth vital word. That word will vanish into a plume of smoke. The smoke will coalesce into an imp with a face made from faces of all those you hate.

Ask the imp “What happens to those who fail to seek them?”. It will tell you every horrid detail, down to every splintered toenail and every burned out eye socket. As it speaks, it will dissipate into the air. When it finishes its tale, it will be gone. The pedestal will slide away, revealing a small mask with hair, almost as if it was to be fitted over a doll’s face. Take this up, and if you so choose, take up the book as well. Jump into the hole the mask was kept in. You will fall into a shower-room in the place you call home.

This mask is Object 107 out of 538, The Mask of the Blue Path.

108. Holder of the Red

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Red.” The worker will nod and pull out a dusty old notebook and hand it to you. She will then point out a door labeled ‘No Entry’. As you enter the door, take a look at the notebook. It will seem completely blank at first but upon further inspection, a random page will have four numbers written in red ink. Memorize the numbers and continue down the hall. Eventually you will reach a red wrought iron door. There will be a number lock in the center of the door with four spaces. The door is slightly warm to the touch. Enter the number you memorized. Enter the wrong number and a violent end awaits you.

Inside several red lights hang from the ceiling, casting everything in a semi-dark yet see-able shade of crimson. The walls are covered in children’s toys, dolls, and model trains. Walk forward… inside a small boy will be crouching with his back to you. He will respond to only one question, “Who can control them?”

You will be answered with giggles from the child. He will turn around and stab you with a needle attached to a strand of thread. Let him do so, stopping him will only make the pain much worse and last an eternity. The sewing needle will pop out your back, and he will pull on it, letting the thread become coated in a thick layer of your blood. Once done, he will begin to gracefully sew. Wait and do not speak… Do not move… Do nothing to draw attention to yourself. Before long, you will have a small blood red doll in the shape of a human. The doll has no face or any other distinguishing features but the craftsmanship is perfect. Protect it as though you were to protect your own life. Whatever happens to it also happens to you.

That Doll is Object 108 of 538.

109. Holder of Rigor Mortis

In any city, in any country, go into any hospital you can get into. When you enter, you will see the receptionist behind her desk. Do not approach her, simply stand where you are. Then immediately fake your best seizure or any other serious medical condition you can do. The receptionist will see this, gasp, and then call for help. Several doctors will then put you on a stretcher and wheel you through many doors down a seemingly never-ending hallway. The lights will flash on and off, and you will catch a quick glimpse of the doctors in their deceased forms. After what seems like an hour, you will become weary, and lose all feeling and awareness of your limbs. You will be wheeled into a room, and left there. It will look like a normal operating room, with an operating table containing a scalpel, needles, syringes, and other medial paraphernalia. From there, fall asleep lying on your back, your head facing the roof.

When you wake up, you will find a Siamese-twin doctor, conjoined at the hip, standing beside your bed. You may try to sit up, but you will find that you are as stiff as a rock, and your body from the neck down has been numbed. The right head will simply say “Alright, he’s awake.”, and begin to operate. The doctor closest to your bed with tear open your shirt, and request items from the far doctor. He will hand him a scalpel, and begin cut a long line from the top of your chest to the beginning of your belly button. It’s best you don’t look, for you may pass out or simply go insane. You will feel no pain, but the knowledge of being cut open is enough of a burden. For an hour they will be operating on you, as the right doctor dissects you and the left doctor hands tools. At the very end, he will stitch you up and then leave covered in blood and other bodily fluids. To return to the real world, simply fall asleep again.

When you wake up you will feel a discomfort in your lower abdomen. If you look down, you will find a scalpel slightly piercing your stomach, making a vertically slanted flap of bloodied skin. Take the scalpel and bandage up your stomach using the bandage wrap beside you. After this, make your way to the front of the desk keeping the scalpel with you. When the receptionist asks if she can help you, stab her in the forehead with the scalpel. She will scream loudly in agony, and collapse to the ground. Trudge around to the back of the desk and lean down to her body. Hold the scalpel to her neck, and ask loudly and angrily, “Why were they dying?” She will cough and sputter blood, then tell you a story of a mass killing. Everyone in the story that died, died painfully and without mercy. Many limbs were amputated from these people, and were killed for the sheer joy of killing. The story will make you shudder in fear, and want to leave this wretched place. After she has finished the story, her eyes will turn black and she will spit blood at your face. Jam the scalpel into her forehead again. As quickly as you did this, leave the hospital. They will hurt you, and they will kill you.

The scalpel is Object 109 of 538.

110. Holder of Humility

In any city, in any country, go to any hospital you can get yourself to, and ask to visit “The Holder of Humility.” The attendant will bow their head, grasp your hand and lead you down a pure white hallway. You must keep your hand within the attendant’s hand, if you wish to live. As you walk down the hallway, you will hear a piano playing faintly in the distance. Should the song stop playing, whisper “You missed a key.” If the song ceases to play, the hallway will turn pitch black, not even a miracle will save you from what you will then experience. Should the song keep playing, continue down the hallway until the attendant lets go of your hand and runs ahead. Don’t bother chasing after them.

Walk forward five steps, then turn to the left, you should see a lone doorknob on the wall. If there is no knob, you will be wandering an endless hallway for all eternity. If there is a knob, turn it, and enter the room. The melody of the piano will be consumed by silence within the desolate room. As you enter the room, shut the door behind you, it should lock you inside. The room is small, the walls and floor covered with droplets of water, a clean bed with a pillow, both covered in clean white sheets, a digital clock with the time 3:00pm, an old black grand piano, and a bare mirror hanging on the wall. Look at your reflection in the mirror, you should see yourself as you are, and the room as it is. Stare straight into your eyes, ask nothing but this question: “Why have they no humility?” Your reflection shall then smile, and back away. You will witness yourself killing the child once inhabiting that room, with swift stabs, punches, tearing the child apart limb from limb, and a gunshot to the head. A silent scream pierces the disturbing silence. The mirror shall then break into seven pieces. The room you are in has become the exact image of the room within the mirror. Droplets of water now blood, and a mutilated body now lay in the once clean bed. The grand piano now old with the keys broken and scattered, and the digital clock looks like it was thrown against the wall.

A vague, yet familiar bullet shines on the now bloodstained pillow, next to a gun. The body will speak to you, telling you to stay within the room, but do not let this bother you. You must shoot yourself with the bullet, allowing it to enter your heart. Excruciating pain will consume your body, don’t hesitate to scream. If you are lucky, you will wake up alive and well in a hospital bed of the hospital you visited. The time will be 3:00pm and a slight scar will be upon your chest. Check under the pillow your head is laying upon.

The diamond bullet is Object 110 of 538.

111. The Holder of the Neverender

So you haven’t stopped your foolish quest? Pitiful, but to be expected. It is your kind’s nature to continue on at any cost, to pursue knowledge while remaining terrifyingly ignorant as to its full ramifications. I know that I can not stop you. Even if I could, still more would take your place. So I will instead tell you what you no doubt will find out later, and through far worse means.

Enter any book store within your city or town. When you walk through the door, the clerk standing at the desk will look at you with faint interest. You must ask to see the ‘Holder of the Neverender.’ He will be utterly powerless before you at that moment, compelled to wander into spaces which neither you nor he should rightfully know about. But you will know of them – the door below the floor hidden by carpet, the dank and joyless corridor beneath it, and more. He will reveal all of this to you, and to himself.

After wandering about in confusion, he will finally lead you to someone else. It will be an elderly woman, or at least what you will sense to be one. Her skin will be free of wrinkles, her teeth a piercing ivory-white much like her hair. But despite her unnatural beauty, you will be able to tell how truly ancient she is. Her eyes will betray her fearsome senescence. She will be reading a book. Its cover will appear long faded, its bindings still in place but visibly tattered. She will read its contents aloud from time to time. They will seem cacophonic, akin to the ramblings of lunatics or war cries of some mercifully forgotten tribe. They are not.

You must tell her that you have been waiting for her your whole life. This will seem absurd to you, but it is not. You will realize that as soon as you utter those words. Upon your crushing realization, she will hand you a letter that seems even more yellowed and battered than the book’s pages. You must ask the clerk to lead you back up immediately after-wards, or you too will become as she is.

Should you read the letter, you will notice something. Despite its apparent dwarfishness, the space within it is infinite. True, there are words upon it. But those black dots, indelible as they may be, are but small grains of sand in a boundless ocean of white.

It is Object 111 of 538.

112. Holder of Victory

In any city, in any country, go into any large stadium or sports arena you can find. When you reach the front desk, ask if “The Big Fight” is going on. Most of the time, the worker will look at you quizzically and reply no. Sometimes, though, the worker will nod excitedly, then ask if you want to buy a ticket. Reply yes. The worker will stamp you out a ticket and pass it through, but if you have timed it right, just before you can take it he will ask you, “Whose side are you on?”

This is the trigger. Quickly, and emotionally, reply “I come for the thrill!” Replying anything else will get you torn to shreds by everyone in earshot, for whatever your reply, they seem to be rooting for the other man.

Take your ticket and make your way to the elevator. Press the button for the highest level. As you go up, the views of the city seen through the windows will get progressively shorter, going from a modern city to a 1930’s skyline, to a sprawling, coal-stained 19th century metropolis, and so on. No matter what button you pressed, the elevator will seem to go far past it, and the city will get more and more ancient until finally you are standing in a modern elevator gazing out over a city that looks like Rome, but isn’t.

Exit the elevator. The moment the doors close, a horrid crash will be heard, and those doors will not open again. Take in the spectacle around you. You stand on the topmost tier of an impossibly large coliseum-style arena, seemingly fallen into hellish disrepair. Unidentifiable materials stain the walls, the pillars are cracked and crumbling, and the blackened roof is full of holes. The seats are filled with screaming, jeering creatures of horrid and unidentifiable origin, all watching an intense gladiatorial battle going on in the bottom row.

Glance at your ticket, and search out your seat among the creatures. It shouldn’t be hard – the rows are well marked. Once you reach it, sit down and watch the match. After about seven minutes, lean over to the thing next to you and ask conspiratorially, “What are the odds on survival?” He will glance about, lean towards you and answer in a surprisingly human voice, “Not very good.”

A sudden roar will come from the crowd – one of the gladiators has gone down. The other will ram his sword through the fallen man’s head, straighten, and call to the jeering crowd, “Who will face me next?”

If you have no sword, remain silent. One shall be handed to you soon in one of two ways – either shoved roughly into your arms hilt-first, or shoved even more roughly into your ribs, blade-first. If you have gained the Sword of the White King, draw it – discreetly. For the moment, you do not want to call attention to your armaments, lest you be mobbed and torn asunder.

After he calls twice more, stand on your seat, raise your sword in the air, and shout at the top of your lungs, “I accept your challenge, Holder of Victory!”

The stadium will fall completely, utterly silent. The creatures will stare at you unspeaking and slowly part like an ocean, clearing a path to the bottom. Take it speedily, but not too fast – you don’t want to tire yourself out and it’s a long way down. When you reach the bottom, vault into the arena pit and face the gladiator. His face is masked by a demonic bronze helmet, and he wields a dark, jeweled sword and a tarnished buckler shield.

Fight as hard as you can, and it still may not be enough, for this man has fought his whole life and he sees you as just another pathetic challenger. If you fall, he will give you no mercy – you will suffer the same fate as his prior opponent. Summon all your skill and, with a little luck, you will knock him down.

The crowd jeers for blood, but do not indulge them just yet. Raise your sword high above the fallen champion’s head and ask him, “Who is He, and why does He allow such things to pass?”

The champion will answer your question somewhat slowly. He’ll stutter a bit at first, but then he’ll pick up speed and get into the tale. It is a macabre story, of how He came to be, who He is, and a deep explanation of all things – those that have happened, are happening, and have yet to occur.

He will cower a little and ask, “I have paid your price, may I be released from my burden?” Sigh, close your eyes, and respond, “No, you have not. You have merely added yours to mine.” With all your strength, drive the sword through his head.

The crowd will roar impossibly loud for a moment, then vanish. The head of the games will slowly walk out – kneel. It is not wise to be disrespectful. Close your eyes and simply listen to him get closer. It is not wise to watch him, for his real form becomes more apparent as he nears you, and it will drive the strongest minds to snap.

He will place something around your neck and clap once. Open your eyes.

You are standing on the roof of a building three blocks from the stadium. If you hold the White King’s sword, wipe it and sheath it- the White King’s anger is settled for the moment. If the sword you hold is not yours, don’t bother wiping it- hurl it from the roof. Then, check the object around your neck.

The medallion you wear is Object 112 of 538.

113. The Holder of Surrender

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Before trying to attain this object, take every object you currently possess with you. If you possess no objects, then when you ask the worker to visit “The Holder of Surrender” the worker shall not even look at you, as if he does not see you there. Turn back and try again after you have at least one object. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Surrender”. A grimace will appear on the face of the worker and he shall laugh, as if to say “You stupid fool. Few have survived what you are about to face!”

After he finishes laughing, you have to go through the door behind him that has a sign saying “Employees Only”. He shall not complain or even try to stop you.

After going through the door, you will find yourself in a dark hallway. As you walk down it, you must walk at a steady pace. You will define the speed with which you have to walk: if you walk very fast, you will have to keep moving fast. If you move slowly, you will have to keep moving slowly. Failure to comply will result with instant death.

At the end of the hallway, there are three paths. The centre path leads to the Holder. The path on the left leads back home, but the path back shall be painful beyond imagination. The path on the right leads to certain death, yet the death is painless and many consider this a more suitable fate than the painful journey back or the suffering in order to get the object.

If you chose the center path, you will walk on until you see a large, rectangular room in front of you. A man is sitting in a chair at the center of the room, surrounded by chalk circles drawn into the floor. One circle for each object you have. If you have 5 objects, there are 5 circles. If you have 45 objects, there are 45 circles.

Walk towards the Holder. Be prepared, because he will shout at you in a large booming voice. His demand is simple: place the first object in the first circle. If you obey, and surrender the object to the Holder, the object placed in the circle will be gone and you will be required to get it again. If you survive. If you refuse, the Holder will lift his hand and countless, minuscule hooks shall go into each of your pores. The pain will make you believe that you are being torn apart. If the pain stops and you have not gone mad with the agony, or have not screamed at him to take your object, he shall smile and say you are worthy of keeping the object. The process will repeat until he has asked for all of your objects. For objects that are too large to move, immaterial, or are otherwise impossible to be placed in a circle, the Holder shall ask if you want to place it in the circle. If you agree, the object will be lost, if you disagree, you shall be tortured once more. If you remain strong and he deems you worthy enough to keep them all, one of the hooks used in your many torture sessions will increase in size until it is the size of a normal fishing hook.

The hook is Object 113 of 538. Its only purpose is to get others to surrender their objects.

114. Holder of Reincarnation

In any city, in any country, go to any Hindu shrine or Buddhist temple you can get yourself to. When you arrive, ask the high priest or chief monk to see someone who calls himself “The Holder of Reincarnation.” If they tell you that there is nobody there by that name, leave post-haste; it is best left unsaid what happens if you linger too long. If you make it out successfully, never return to any Buddhist temple or Hindu shrine until someone close to you dies; after their funeral, you may try again. You may have to do this multiple times.

If they instead say, “Indeed, it is so easy to understand, yet so impossible to destroy,” you are fortunate enough to have located the Holder. The priest or monk should then lead you deep into the shrine or temple. Eventually you’ll reach a hallway that seems… well, let’s just use the phrase “out of place.” On the left wall, you’ll see people dying the most gruesome of deaths. Coinciding with their deaths, you’ll see the most foul creatures you’ve yet seen spawning on the right wall. This is where the minions of every Holder are generated; they are the reincarnations of the most foul, damned men who have ever walked the earth. Take care not to focus your attention on any one creature, for they don’t like to be seen in their “incomplete” state and will test their newfound powers on you without hesitation.

As you progress down the hall, the people on the left will become more evil and the creatures on the right more revolting and hideous. Eventually, their power will feel overbearing, and you’ll lose all desire to continue. Despite this, you must press onwards, for you don’t want these beasts to sense your weakness.

Should you successfully reach the end, you’ll find yourself standing in front of a door that seems to be made of parts of every living creature ever formed on earth. The priest or monk will move to open the door; make sure, above all else, that you open the door first. Should he open the door, the Holder will mistake him for the Seeker and will nail you, a mere intruder, to the wall with the damned men. If this happens, then hope you enjoy your new life as a Holder’s minion. Should you open the door first, the monk or priest who accompanied you will suffer this fate in your stead.

Enter the room beyond; the door will shut behind you, silencing the wails of the condemned men and the howls of the newly-formed monsters. You will find yourself in a round chamber; on the stone walls is a series of moving lights that spiral upwards into infinity; don’t follow the lights with your gaze, lest you be driven mad by the infinitude of it all. Standing in the center of the room is a being that is half-man. The other half is something so vile and horrendous that to gaze directly at it would mean an eternal life as an inconsolable, broken wretch. Wait patiently in this room with the creature; don’t say anything or do anything save breathing, or the being will disappear, the floor will drop beneath you, and you’ll fall downwards forever, witnessing every death and concurrent birth in the world all the while.

Suddenly, without warning, the being will lunge at you as if to attack. The only means of sparing yourself a fate best left unspoken is to ask, at this precise moment, “Can any of Them be permanently destroyed?” The being should then halt in its tracks, then tell you of mankind’s futile efforts to break the wheel of samsara, that everlasting spiral of death and rebirth. He will provide solid evidence that the Buddha, the only human said to have ever escaped the cycle, was a fraud (you will then remember that he was the last of the condemned souls dying to form the Holders’ new legions). Suddenly you will realize that the spiraling lights around you are the physical manifestation of samsara. All this knowledge is too much for the average mind to comprehend; indeed, you may find yourself in a sudden “blank” state, your brain now unable to perform any tasks outside of maintaining your vitals (and even that will soon end). If your mind is above ordinary, however, break off one of the man’s claws (if indeed that is what they can be called) and use it to slash a gaping hole into the chain of samsara.

Upon doing this, the Holder will cease to exist (for the cycle that reincarnation depends on is now no more), and he will leave behind a platinum swastika charm on a golden chain. Upon taking it, you’ll find yourself outside any Hindu shrine or Buddhist temple save the one you started your journey in (though you should notice that it’s in ruins). Good luck finding your way home.

That swastika charm is Object 114 of 538.

115. Holder of Pestilence

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Pestilence”. At this point, the worker should gag, and try not to vomit. After several minutes of this, the worker will finally give in, vomiting into a wastepaper basket. They will then stand, and lead you down the hallway. You will reach a door, slightly ajar, but you must not touch it. To do so would invite its curse into your bones, and your fate would be sealed. Instead, demand that the worker open it for you. Pass quickly through the door …the Holder is waiting.

You will find yourself in a darkened room. The door behind you will slam shut again. To touch it would be to invite the Rot. Instead, walk ahead, in the dark, until you reach what feels like a stone altar. Reach over, until you find a groove. At this point, you must think only of home, and your friends, and the people you love, as something cold and wet will slide momentarily over your face.

After the deathly embrace is over, you will find the groove has split open, and the altar now reveals a staircase. Descend it, taking care not to trip. The Holder wouldn’t want you damaged before you meet. Finally, at the bottom of the stairs, it is vital that you don’t step off the final step. Instead, look as hard as you can until you see footsteps cleared among the ichor and rot coating the floor. Step only in these, as to touch the Rot is to join it. As you make your way forward, you will finally come to a stone sarcophagus.

Few people realize this, but the word ‘Sarcophagus’ means ‘Eater of Flesh’, and this is exactly what this coffin is. You must raise the stone lid, and lower yourself into it. Hold still. It’s sleeping. After a few moments, the room will be lit, ambient light slowly filling the room. You must remain still. If it wakes, all is lost.

After the room is lit to its brightest, you will hear a tapping noise, like someone is walking into the room, however, you will be unable to hear them. As the footsteps get nearer and nearer, you will hear a rasping voice speaking in an unknown language. At this point, most Seekers will find it important not to focus on the words, as they tell of truths mortals cannot comprehend. Finally, the speaker is silent. The base of the sarcophagus will raise, and it is now safe to move. The Holder is standing here.

His skin is gangrenous and blackened, and his eyes are sunken. He will speak to you, in your native language, and ask you a series of questions about yourself. Answer truthfully, and your mind will remain intact. The Holder will ask you to hold out your left hand. He will reach out and place something cold into your palm, and then close your hand over it. For his ravaged appearance, the Holder is not an evil being, and wishes you luck. A door is now behind you. Passing through it will bring you back to the institution through which you passed.

The jewel in your hand is Object 115 of 538.

116. Holder of Guilt

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls herself “The Holder of Guilt”. Before the worker can answer, shut your eyes tightly and clench your jaw. Count to exactly twenty, then open your eyes. You should find yourself on an unassuming dirt footpath in a moderately wooded area. If you are in any other location, then you miscounted the seconds and have only minutes to live.

If you are on the dirt path, then walk along it. You should feel, at all times, an eddy of wind playing against your ear. Should you ever stop feeling it, quickly stand still and shout into the foliage, “I freely admit it was my fault!” If the little eddy of wind does not return, then I suggest you make yourself comfortable and arm yourself, as these woods are now your home for all eternity, and they are filled to bursting with hidden creatures from the lowest pits of damnation, all eager to messily devour you.

If the wind does return, then continue along the path as normal. After a long while you should find a battered little shanty. Knock twice before entering; failing to knock properly beforehand results in a punishment that cannot be adequately described in any human tongue.

Upon entering the shanty, you will find yourself in a clean little kitchen. Quickly shut the door behind you and remain standing, head bowed respectfully, where you entered. Fervently working the kitchen will be a woman who never turns to face you as she goes about her endless task of working on a meal that will never be finished. If you pay attention, you will notice that she works to an exact rhythm, but this is not terribly important – just an interesting detail.

There is only one question to which this woman will respond: “Why is it their fate to be used for wrong?” Give her a moment; it will take a while before she gets around to answering. When she does, she will recount in your mother’s voice (even if you have never heard your mother’s voice), and in explicit detail, every wrong you have ever visited upon others, no matter how trivial, no matter if it was intentional or unintentional. No matter how shameless, unrepentant, or vile a person you are, or even if your wrongdoings are few or barely extant, you will feel the weight of your wrongdoing pressing down on you. Remain standing in your respectful pose even as the weight of your wrong increases to unbearable levels. If ever you falter, you will be crushed, doomed to remain a broken heap on the floor of this kitchen listening to the woman repeat herself forever. Then again, that would mean you were never worthy of collecting all the Objects in the first place.

Once every wrong has been recited in excruciating detail, if you are still standing, the woman will ask you to retrieve an ingredient from a top cupboard. Go fetch it. Do not open any cupboard other than the one indicated, and do not turn your head in a way that would allow you to see the woman’s face. There are fates worse than what would happen if you do either, but the list is very short.

The ingredient she is looking for is the only spice that has no label. Hand it to her in a way that prevents you from looking her in the face, then return to where you were standing earlier. Wait a while, and she will eventually offer a small sample of her cooking for you to eat. Walk over to her and accept it (being careful not to put yourself in a position to see her face). It is a sizable chunk of cooked beef. Thank her politely, tell her you had a wonderful time visiting and will come back another day, then quietly leave via the door through which you came. You will find you have walked out of a supply closet in the mental institution.

The food you acquired from the Holder is no ordinary beef. It never rots, no matter how old it gets, and eating even a small bite of it will instantly heal all your wounds, no matter how grave. It does this, however, by transferring said wounds to someone you care deeply about. Survival in the future of this quest will make eating this beef necessary at least a few times.

That chunk of cooked beef is Object 116 of 538.

117. Holder of the Syzygy

In any city, in any country, go to any warehouse or factory you can get yourself to. When you reach the receiving desk, ask to claim the shipment for someone called “The Holder of the Syzygy.” The secretary will not believe you in the slightest, but be resolute and if necessary ask to speak to the foreman. He will arrive in time, and will also mock you, saying he’s never heard of such a person. Be patient and he will eventually consult the records, the color draining from his face when he finds the name in his papers.

He will then lead you onto the floor of the factory, but he will demand that you wear eye protection. You should have the Eyes by now, and though this is not their true purpose, only they will suffice for this occasion. If you do not have the Eyes, you will be wasting your time and your life. Put on the Eyes before following him.

The foreman will lead you to the oldest and furthest section of the factory. There will be seemingly endless rows of boxes and crates here, but do not break stride and do not examine the labels and destinations on any of them. You will find them to be years, even decades old, with strange destinations and even stranger contents, but they are valueless in your quest. Instead, keep your eyes fixed on the foreman. He will be eager to lose you around the next row of musty cardboard pallets.

After what might seem like a day’s worth of walking down never-ending aisles, the foreman will stop before a single, massive crate. It is wooden but does not appear to be made from individual planks, instead, it looks as though carved from a single massive piece of the darkest wood imaginable, almost black. Set into the box is a door.

If the crate emits a high pitched whine, a kind of buzzing noise, or seems to vibrate slightly, then you can breathe a quick sigh of relief that what is inside is still what you seek. But if the air by this box is filled with only silence, or any other sound, then what you seek within has been destroyed, and you may now search the crates nearby for some instrument to end your life, for you have no hope of leaving this modern labyrinth.

You will find the door unlocked; you need not even knock before entering. You will then be standing in complete darkness; only the Eyes will reveal the true nature of the space you are now standing in. You will find yourself standing near the center of a massive web of rings, all centered around a small dais with a reclining chair, not unlike a dentist’s chair. The difference in function becomes terrifyingly apparent as you approach–the chair is surrounded by hundreds of scalpels, each on its own articulated arm, poised above the chair. Strapped in to the seat is a mannequin made of the same dark wood the crate was fabricated from. Where the face of the mannequin should be, however, is carved a divot like a bowl.

Use one of the scalpels to cut yourself and add a few drops of your blood to this bowl. Immediately, the mannequin’s body will turn from wood into flesh, and its appearance will be yours. You should stand back as the scalpels descend, making a frenzy of cuts on your doppelganger’s body. You will hear your own screams, the flesh that is sliced will be yours and not yours. At this moment, the rings will shift in the vast darkness around you, eventually ceasing in their alignment at some point. Some will remain frozen in the air above or below you, while many others will settle themselves in a neat row on the horizon. The number of marks on the mannequin-you’s flesh is the number of Objects you have gathered; the rings show your progress the same way.

The mannequin-you will curse and plead for you to stop the pain or end its suffering, but you must coldly ask it, “When will they align?” The not-you will beg, plead, and grovel for mercy as the scalpels slowly start to descend, crying for you to stop it, but you must say nothing and must not look away. This time, the blades will make five hundred and thirty-eight slices, all but flaying the mannequin-you to ribbons. The rings will now all be aligned on the horizon, and a long light will land on the dais, showing you the way home.

Before you leave, take from the ruined chest of the mannequin-you a small leather-bound book. Then follow the light until you find yourself outside the factory once more.

The star atlas you now hold is Object 117 of 538. Now you have the knowledge of when they will align, though not the means to see them.

118. Holder of Joy

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Joy”. The worker will shudder violently and ask that you reconsider. Insist gently, and he will reluctantly relent. He will open a hatch on the ceiling above you, and offer to boost you up through it. Accept his offer.

Upon emerging from the hatch, you will find yourself in an old factory, similar to the old 18th-century sweatshops of large American east coast cities. It is dirty and dimly lit, and the noise of the machines will be so loud you will find yourself incapable of thought. Before you will be a long catwalk over the large factory floor filled with massive machines; walk along that catwalk. Working the many hot, hellish, and clattering machines are small children, though they are so weary and ragged you might mistake them for elderly people. In what little light there is you can make out their filthy, pleading faces, full of desperation and a wish to be free from their endless torment. Just keep walking; no mortal can help them, and should you attempt to do so you will join them in their eternal and pointless labor.

It will take a long time, but eventually you will reach a door to the foreman’s office. Enter to find a plain, gruff man, built like a brick, who appears to be in his late 40s and is wearing a rather plain white button-up shirt. Once he notices you, he will look up from whatever he was doing and regard you with a disgusted glare. With confidence, ask him one question: “Can any joy come from it?”

Once the question has been asked, the foreman will stand and leave the office. Follow him. You will both be on the catwalk once again, whereupon he will shout a command to the child workers. What he says exactly will be lost in the din of machinery, but the child laborers will understand. The children will throw themselves into the machinery, altering the sound in horrible ways. You will clearly hear the bones snap and muscles rip as the children are torn and crushed by the machines, into which they unquestioningly threw themselves. Throughout this nightmare spectacle, you will hear the Holder’s voice explain the true nature of joy and pain, though I will not write it here for only the worthy may know it.

Once all the child laborers have been thoroughly shredded by the hellish machinery, the foreman will tell you to go back to his office and wait for him there. Do as he says, and upon entering the office door you will find yourself in whatever place you most often sleep at night. On your bed (or whatever sleeping surface you use) will be a plain white button-up shirt just like the one the foreman wore. This shirt will bestow a sense of familiarity and camaraderie with those you speak to.

That shirt is Object 118 of 538.

119. Holder of Cowardice

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Cowardice”. As the last syllable leaves your lips, the worker will immediately and roughly grab the collar of your shirt; let him, do not resist. He will shout incoherently at you while shaking you angrily. After some time of this, he will appear to calm down and let you go. He will beckon for you to walk down a staircase that was not there before. Walk down the stairs, even though they are impossibly dark.

You will emerge into what appears to be a small garden. The worker will tell you to wait here, and will then go back the way he came, leaving you alone in the garden. Wait in that garden; feel free to stroll around it all you like and make yourself comfortable. After a long while – hours, perhaps – two men will appear where you are not looking. One man is tall, brawny, and handsome in a proud, heroic way, and wears a suit of knightly armor. The other is a mouse of a man: scrawny, balding, nearsighted, lacking any kind of posture, lacking a chin, and clad in a threadbare brown suit. Once you have laid eyes on these two men, remain still and betray no movement as they stare at you. Eventually the knight will make a gesture that indicates you may speak. At this gesture, ask one question: “If we stop now, what is the price?”

Once the question is asked, the scrawny man will suddenly tackle the knight with immense strength and proceed to rip him apart with savage ease, using just his bare hands. The knight, in spite of his heroic and powerful appearance, will be helpless against the fury of the scrawny man, who will first tear away the knight’s breastplate, then rip into the knight’s body, spattering everything in the garden with blood and gore. When this happens, stand still and watch the entire meaningless slaughter, no matter how horrible the knight’s cries of pain and pleas for mercy. Once the knight has been thoroughly rent asunder – he was a large man, so this will take a long time – everything – the garden, the scrawny man, and you – will be soaked red with the knight’s blood. Then a young, beautiful girl, no older than seven years old, will appear. She is the knight’s daughter. The blood-drenched scrawny man will gesture to her; he wants you to kill her in the exact same manner he killed the knight. Do it, or else the scrawny man will consider you in league with the knight, and you will be butchered next.

Set about slaughtering and ripping apart the little girl with your bare hands as the scrawny man wanted. The girl will not offer any physical resistance, though her crying and whimpering will be unbearable. As you commit this violent and senseless deed, the scrawny man will crouch down next to you and whisper into your ear, telling of every instance in human history where courage resulted in pain and death, and where cowardice only made matters worse. He will explain, in excruciating detail, the true consequences of courage and the true cost of cowardice. Once the little girl has been reduced to a lifeless red pulp by your own bare hands, the scrawny man will smile. He will pick up the dead knight’s blood-spattered breastplate and hand it to you, then with a warm, friendly countenance gesture you to leave. Go through the door through which you came and make your way back to the institution. Once you have made it back, I suggest you find a way to clean yourself, your clothes, and the breastplate, as all are still coated thickly with the knight’s blood.

The breastplate is Object 119 of 538.

120. Holder of Sweets

In any country, in any city, get into a car, alone. Drive west until you arrive in the countryside. Find a house on a spacious lot that a family appears to live in. Exit the car from the road and walk slowly down the driveway, looking only at your feet. No matter what you may see in your peripheral, do not look up or around.

Only when you arrive at the front porch may you relax, for the moment. Knock thrice, lightly, and wait. If the door does not open, call out in a confident voice, “I come for the Holder of Sweets,” and wait again. If the door opens to reveal a small boy, fall to your knees and pray, for nothing can help you then. If an old, grizzled man with cruel eyes answers, however, he will wordlessly beckon you inside. Follow him.

Immediately, you will smell something delicious being made in the kitchen. Turn to the old man, but do not look him directly in the eye. In a voice like ripping cloth he will say, “My wife,” and point you to the kitchen. Once the man vanishes, so will your final chance to turn back.

The room will seem far too large for such a house. It is full of mouth-watering pastries and desserts of countless kinds – set on counters, tables, or on racks to cool. The half of the kitchen furthest from you will be painted strangely, in a fresh, vivid red. The side from which you entered is mellow shades of blue. The window near you will show a young boy and a dog on the lawn outside, playing and romping. Do no more than glance, however, for you will then be warmly welcomed by the beautiful young woman at one of the counters. “Hello!” She will offer you a tray of pastries or the like. “Would you like a treat?” Refuse immediately. The woman may pout, then shrug and smile radiantly. “Oh well! Would you like to make cookies with me instead?”

If you answer that you do not want to, or do not know how, she will drop whatever she is holding with a crash. The woman’s face will twist horribly, her jaw will snap and re-hinge to make room for crooked fangs, and her flesh will fall off in splattering red sheets to show her true form underneath. It may be the last thing you see before you suffer an undying death, torn to shreds and meaty chunks no larger than pocket change… But you will still be conscious. You will feel everything as your remains are added to batter, then put in the hellish heat of the oven, unable to scream, unable to see, only aware of yourself roasting and eventually being slowly devoured and digested.

It would be much, much wiser to accept. She will again smile charmingly. “Lovely! Hand me that measuring cup.”

All the while, stay by her side. Do not wander to the red side of the room, and do not touch any of the baked goods. Each time you begin to ask her a question, she will speak over you, asking for an item or for you to hold something. You must attempt to question her 12 times before she gathers all the ingredients. One too many or less, and you will suffer the undying death.

After collecting and mixing, she will cross over to the red side of the room. It is hot and uncomfortable here, and instantly, she will turn to her true form, as will the ingredients. Do not flinch or cry out when you see the bloody entrails and bodies that will replace the sacks of flour and pitchers of cream – these are all past Seekers who have failed. Stay alert and calm, and do not hesitate, and you will not meet the same fate.

The demon wife will turn to you, asking sweetly, “Well, what are you waiting for?” Do not grimace at the smile she gives, now splintery with jagged teeth. “Bring the cookie sheet over.”

She will look out the window on the red side – follow her example. Outside, the dog has turned into a hell beast and is tearing at the mangled body of the little boy.

The woman will pause in setting clumps of bloody, meaty batter onto the pan, and say, “Aw, they get along just lovely, don’t they?”

You are then to reply, “As lovely as your baking.”

If you’ve convinced her, she will smile and continue preparing the cookies. However, if you stumble over your words, or pale, or suddenly break out into a sweat, you will join the failed Seekers of the past.

If you’re still living at this point, the beastly woman will open the oven and bend to place the tray inside. At this time the head of the little boy will come smashing through the window. As soon as you hear the glass breaking, swiftly shove the woman inside the oven and close it. Be sure the tray has been placed firmly on the rack prior to this. Set the temperature to 538 degrees and give it an arms-length distance. Whatever you may hear from the oven, do not open it, be it the screaming voices of your family or loved ones. Do not open it.

The boy’s head will be on the counter. Ask him “What will tempt those who seek them?”

He will answer in a lifeless croak, and his long, macabre response will finish just as the oven door is thrown open. Avoid the unbearable heat by reaching in quickly to grab the one cookie the demon is not touching. Do not touch her remains. Ignore the blisters rising on your hands and sprint to the refrigerator, open the door, and throw yourself inside.

You’ll find yourself on the floor of your kitchen, in your own home. You’re safe…for now.

The cookie is Object 120 of 538.

121. Holder of Midnight

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask very politely to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Midnight”. The worker will give a solemn, knowing nod and beckon you to follow him.

He will lead you down a long hallway and eventually gesture for you to enter a door. Do not enter this door. Instead, enter the door on the exact opposite side of the hall. You will come upon another hallway. At the door you entered will be a man who is almost identical to the worker who led you, except this one is a mirror-image version, with all features reversed. Ask once again for the Holder, and this mirror worker will give a solemn, knowing nod and beckon you to follow. If you say anything else after this point, then this mirror world will collapse upon you, erasing all evidence that you ever existed.

The worker will take you back to the front desk and gesture for you to exit out the front door. Do this, and you will find yourself in an incalculably vast room. It will be impossible to determine the room’s appearance or features, as it is filled with sourceless, eye searingly bright lights – too bright for your vision to adjust, so that the entire room appears to be a blaze. Just walk forward on ground that feels like sand.

Start walking in any direction into the room. Everything should be completely silent, but if at any point you hear a high whistle, like the sound of a teapot, then stop immediately and shout with all the ferocity you can muster, “I can see what I must do!” It is best you not know what eternal horrors await you should the whistling continue.

If the whistling stops, however, then you are to proceed as you were. Eventually, no matter which direction you walked, you will come upon a small area of the vast room where the lights, by some strange means, are not quite as blinding. Sitting in a meditative cross-legged position in the exact middle of this area is a peaceful-looking thin man wearing nothing but a loincloth. He has not a single hair on his entire body, but it is his head that is truly unusual. He has neither nose nor ears, and his mouth has no lips, so that it is just a slit on his placid face. His eyes have odd pupils, exactly like those of a goat. This man will have his arms held forward and his hands clasped together as though hiding a small object between them. He will stare at you impassively until you ask one question: “What lies in the depths of His heart?”

The man with the goat eyes will give a knowing but benign grin, then open his hands. Darkness will flow out from them like a mist, very slowly filling the room. It is crucial that during this time you stare intently into the man’s strange eyes, for otherwise you will be consumed by this darkness forever.

As the darkness overwhelms the light, it will reveal the true forms of the goat-eyed man and this vast room. The man is a truly nightmarish specter, more bone than flesh, his countenance no longer suggesting peaceful benevolence but rather a dark and violent hatred. You will see in the distance the immense walls of this room; they are made up of a collage of anguished faces. These are the souls of every Seeker who has ever failed the test of any Holder. The visions of the man and the room will overwhelm your sight as a loud crackling sound, like that of a raging fire, overwhelm your ears. No matter what, though, you must keep your gaze fixed upon the man’s eyes. After what seems like an eternity, the assault on your senses will stop abruptly, and the room will revert back to its light-filled state, the man once again a tranquil in meditation. The goat-eyed man’s arms will be outstretched, presenting a little brown bag. Take the bag gently and give a respectful bow before turning to leave. Go back the way you came: back through the mirror world and into the hallway of the regular world.

The gelatinous substance in that bag is Object 121 of 538.

122. Holder of Health

In any city, in any country, go to any hospital emergency room you can get yourself into. Wait for an ambulance to arrive and unload its patient. As long as the patient is alive, no matter how mangled he may be, ask him to see “The Holder of Health”. Should the patient you’re talking to die at any time during or after you’ve asked to see the Holder, the object you’re after is no longer there. Run for your insignificant life, and do not stop until the sun rises the next morning. The medical interns have lost their patient, and are eager to find someone else to treat.

If the Object you seek is still there, the patient will go into a massive seizure, and the medical staff accompanying him in the ambulance will try to save him. The patient will thrash violently, disemboweling the EMTs working on him using whatever is at hand. During this time, you must not move from your current position or the patient will come for you next. Once the patient has done away with his victims, you must ask one question, lest you be maimed for eternity: “What was the price for longevity?” The patient will then tell a horrific story, a story showing every malpractice, every accident, every excuse and every experiment in medical history that helped to bring about the convenience people enjoy today. He will then explain the true price of convenience, that sacrifice and convenience go together as do day and night; that the greater the convenience one wants, the greater the sacrifice one must give.

If your sanity is intact after his horrific story you must react fast as the patient will lose his patience and lunge towards you. Grab for the syringe that has appeared beside you and stab it into his head, or what’s left of it. He will soon die and you must extract a liquid that comes from his head.

This syringe will never run out of the liquid inside it and will not extract anything else. Injecting yourself with some of this viscous substance will give you demonic strength for a certain time, depending on how much you use. Beware, however, for the liquid concentrates itself from the life force of the people you care about most.

The syringe is Object 122 of 538.

123. Holder of Obsession

In any country in any city, go to any beach and you will find a lonely looking person staring off into the ocean. Sit next to him. If at any time he looks at you before you can sit next to him, leave and never look back. If he keeps staring into the distance just wait and do not do or say anything. Take this time to enjoy the scenery; you’ll need the peace of mind later. Soon he’ll stand up and start walking, follow him. After walking for what seems like weeks you’ll reach some rocks underneath a jagged cliff that wasn’t there before. Among those rocks will be an old door that has been worn down by the sea, its wood rotting with some seaweed hanging from the cracks in the wood.

Calmly go through this door and you will be in a hallway that seems endless. Numerous doors will line the hallways with little windows near the top. If you value your sanity you will do well not to look in any of these windows. From the echoes that come from the doors will hear that the inhabitants of these rooms are busy doing something, though what this something is you don’t know, and would be better off not knowing. The inhabitants scream intensely, seething with madness and obsession over their assigned tasks. These were the previous Seekers foolish enough to look into the windows or fail the Holder’s test. Walk straight through the hallway until you reach Room 123. Enter the room and you will come upon an impossibly white room, deafeningly quiet in stark contrast to the other rooms. In the middle will be a faceless apparition, kneeling quietly on top of a pedestal. As you approach the creature, the room will start to dim, you will start hearing screams of pain far more horrible and maddening than any of the screams you’ve heard before. You’ll hear the sound of flesh tearing, bones breaking, and the crackling of great fires. Ignore all of this and continue toward the center. You will know that you’re an inch from the creature once you cannot see anything and you cannot hear your own thoughts over the screams of the damned.

Through the madness all around you only one thing can stop it. You must scream with all your might, “How did you get your first?!” After this all will become silent and a pair of blood-red eyes will glow and stare back at you. He will then narrate his horrific story of how he got his first, then his second, then his third. He will recount how with every step he took forward, the closer he came to insanity, being pushed by unseen forces, drilling constantly into his mind, to know everything that he can about Them, and how it ultimately resulted in his destruction. The eyes will then fade, and all will return to darkness. You will feel an object being handed to your right hand, take it. If you feel it in your left hand, you can do nothing but kill yourself with it and end your journey there. If it was in your right hand, raise it and slash it to where the creature would’ve been. You will feel the resistance of flesh, so make it one decisive cut. From your slash will be a bright light, blinding you. Open your eyes when it is safe and you will find yourself in the beach you were before, its waves gently caressing your feet. In your right hand will be a farmer’s sickle dripping with fresh blood.

That is Object 123 of 538.

124. Holder of Prestige

In any city, in any country, go to any theater or gallery you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Prestige”.

The worker should assume a bland, neutral demeanor as he leads you down an endless maze of hallways that seem to bear an increasing degree of disrepair. If at any time you hear the mournful sound of an organ playing, continue walking and think clearly to yourself, “There is no status.” If the organ continues after you think this, it’s best you close your eyes and not know what hits you.

If the organ’s music stops, continue following the worker as before. He will lead you along this maze for an eternity, before coming to a door that seems impossibly clean and well-maintained, especially in comparison to its decrepit surroundings. Thank the worker, then enter this door. Inside is what appears to be a very stylish, very modern, very cosmopolitan high-rise apartment. A party is going on, the guests wearing the finest and most expensive clothes as they drink and fill the air with their loud chatter.

Now you must find the host, who is the man dressed as a woman. He is much harder to identify than you would ever imagine, but you must find the right man, for getting the attention of anyone else at the party will prompt all the guests to play a game that revolves around tearing you to pieces with their bare hands. Find the man dressed as a woman, however, and get his attention – make sure you have his full attention, for he is rather sociable, but flaky, and might chat with other guests before you have the chance to say anything more – and ask one question: “Are they proud of what they do?”

Upon uttering your question, the entire apartment will fall abruptly silent. The music, as though on its own volition, will shut off. Everyone will look at you, but their faces will be impossible to read. The man dressed as a woman will shift his weight uncomfortably at your question, but will then invite you to go with him to another room so he may answer your question in private. Refuse the offer. He will insist, but you must remain steadfast in refusing the offer, for your life’s sake.

If your will is strong, he will give in and answer the question. He will tell of many, many stories, starting with the nauseating, continuing with the maddening, and finishing with those that may well drive you to suicide. By the time he is done with his answer, he will have collapsed and begun to cry. The guests will appear startled and troubled by their host’s state. Use this as your chance to get as close as you can to the door through which you came. You will need as great a head start as you can achieve, for as soon as they shake themselves from their surprise the guests’ hands will transform into long, grisly claws, which they will use to attack you en-masse in the cramped apartment. Get out of the apartment as the guests conduct their onslaught like a pack of velociraptors.

If you make it out the door and shut it quickly behind you, you are safe. You can even open the door again and find that it no longer leads to the apartment, but to an empty cell.

Go home, and in roughly three weeks you should receive a package in the mail. It will be a small, bronze statuette of a man with no head nor hands, and inscribed in an indecipherable, yet elegant-looking, language.

That statuette is Object 124 of 538.

125. Holder of Forgiveness

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Forgiveness.”

The worker will promptly slap you across the face and insult you. Do not lose your temper. Calmly ask again; this may have to be done multiple times. Eventually the worker, not hiding that he does it very grudgingly, will give in and tell you a room number.

Look at a directory of the institution to find the room. You might note a long hallway extending from the eastern edge of the building, even though such a hallway was never there before, and may not even be logical. Go to this hallway, and you will find the door with the number the worker gave you. Enter the door, and it should lead to an enormous fairground, complete with game stands and rides. If the door leads to any other location, just sit down and quietly accept the impending death, for resistance is a waste of effort at this point.

If the door indeed leads to the fairground, the sky should be dark as nighttime, no matter what time you entered. All the lights in the carnival are on, and music is playing, but there are no people, and none of the rides are moving save one: the merry-go-round. Wait at the turnstile for the merry-go-round to come to a stop, then embark.

Once the merry-go-round resumes turning, two people – a man and a woman – will appear. They will be dressed as though they are children, and their appearance is grainy and in black-and-white, as though from an old projector. They will each ride one of the horses, but not right next to each other – there will be an empty horse between them.

Sit on the empty horse as the man and woman laugh in a ghastly, mirthless fashion. Do not touch either of the two, or come in any kind of physical contact, or else their guardian will arrive early. No force in the universe can save you from your torment once their guardian strikes out to defend his charges.

Although the man and woman ignore you completely, stare straight ahead and, as though to nobody in particular, ask, “Who is to be forgiven when the time comes: them or us?”

Grip tightly to the pole, for the ride will come to a very abrupt stop. Your horse will be aligned right in front of the turnstile, where there is now a haggard old worker with filthy, tattered clothes and long, greasy, grey hair framing his dilapidated face. Look into his tired eyes. If he deems you unworthy of the answer, your innards will rip themselves from your body by their own will.

If you are worthy, however, then the man will give a respectful nod. The merry-go-round will start up again, but this time it will spin at breakneck speeds. Hang on tight. The man and woman who are dressed like children will cackle with glee as everything becomes a blur. Soon you will be moving with such speed that the world has resolved itself into a solid blur, and the pressure will nearly crush your innards. The cackling will exponentially increase in volume, intensity, and speed, to a point far beyond bearable. You will feel (though not see, for the speed at which you travel makes it impossible for you to see anything but a blur) that the merry-go-round – nay, the entire plane of existence you’re in – is falling apart, and then all will go black.

When you awaken, you will be at the ticket booth at the carnival’s entrance. The man who was operating the merry-go-round will be standing over you with a disgusted countenance. Do not get up or make any sudden movements; lie completely still, as he will now answer the question. No matter how pessimistic or negative a person you are, you will find yourself far, far, far less optimistic or hopeful than you ever imagined a person could be. Even the most bitter and jaded person will feel that he has managed to lose more faith in humanity than ever before. You might feel the vicious urge to end your life immediately, but you must resist.

Once the operator is finished with the answer, the man and woman from the merry-go-round will emerge from the carnival, except they are now children rather than adults. They will rush to the merry-go-round operator and embrace him, and they will enthusiastically call him their father. Once they embrace, they will emit an impossibly bright light. Shield your eyes, lest you be blinded.

When you no longer feel the heat emitted by the light, you may open your eyes. You will be standing before the front desk of the mental institution. The worker there will inform you that something belonging to you was discovered in the lost-and-found. Accept it.

The carnival ticket you receive is Object 125 of 538.

126. Holder of Isolation

In any city, in any country, go to any apartment complex you can get yourself into. When you reach the front desk, ask if you can see someone who calls himself the “Holder of Isolation.” If there is no front desk, use the buzzer and request to look at the twenty sixth room for sale, which will prompt a doorman to appear. In either scenario, the worker should lead you down a flight of stairs that wasn’t previously there. Soon you will arrive at a door, and the employee will open it for you. Do not enter just yet; rather, look into the opened door. Ask for the worker to close the door and leave you alone. If he insists that you enter, you have two choices: to wait for the worker to reveal his true form, or to step into the door and feed yourself to the horrors that lie within. Either way, your journey ends here. If the worker obliges you, wait for him to be out of sight. Be certain you are alone before you open that door.

Beyond that door will be a gathering in a high rise apartment overlooking the capital city of whatever region you are in. You will notice that everyone who you love and cherish will be present in that room. Friends, family, and loved ones will all greet you with loving and open arms. Talk to them as if they were the real thing, laugh with them, reminisce with them. Treat them with respect, and you will treated in kind. Doing any less will result in a punishment far worse than any mortal could conceive of. One by one, the guests will start excusing themselves, saying that they have somewhere else to go. Do not stop them for anything, as they have obliged you enough already. Slowly the room will drain of people, and before long the only ones left will be you and the person that you love most. Cherish the time given to you, as they too will eventually depart, and you need to muster every ounce of mental strength for the coming trial. Even though this façade is not real, it knows enough to be effectively emulate its real-world counterpart. Here you can say anything you would like to confess to them, but ensure that you give them the proper respect. When they make a motion to leave, let them. There is no turning back now. As soon as they close the door, everything will slowly turn black. You are free to do anything here, shout, panic, or stay calm, it is your choice. Once everything has faded away, there is nothing to be done but wait.

You will spend what feels like weeks, months, or even years here in this darkness. You will start missing the people that were surrounding you earlier, and will long to feel their warmth and hear their laughter again. You felt that you belonged when you were with them, but now, you are alone to fend for yourself in this darkness. You will start looking for someone, anyone, to accompany you in this trying time, but only darkness greets you in any direction. You will feel no hunger, no thirst, but you will feel the energy drained from you with every second. This realm will not allow you to sleep, and even if you try, you will be unable to find slumber to temporarily relieve you of your loneliness. Many before you who could not bear this feeling are all a part of this darkness now, and want nothing more than for you to join them, though their wishes will never be granted.

Again, you are free to do anything here, though ending your own life now will only leave you in that darkness forever with those before you. Steel yourself, and eventually you will see a point of light on the horizon, which provides a shocking contrast to the bleak world in which you have been existing. As soon as you see it, close your eyes and ask, “Is this how they feel?” Wait for approximately three minutes before you open your eyes.

If the light has gone, and darkness surrounds you again, sit down and relax. Your journey is over, and this darkness is now your home for all eternity.

If you are lucky, when you open your eyes you will be outside of the apartment complex. At your feet will be a picture frame, and inside of it, a picture of you and the person you love engaged in a warm embrace in the apartment. Do not let anyone see it, though; they will certainly wonder about the origin of that picture.

The picture and frame are Object 126 of 538.

127. Holder of the Seven Masks

In any country where there are still untamed woods, go to them while clearly thinking “The Holder of the Seven Masks.” As you enter the woods, you should feel a gentle force pulling you deeper into the center. If not, leave immediately and come back another day.

As you walk deeper into the woods pay close attention to your surroundings. They will grow unnaturally dark, and you will see shadows darting between the trees. Do not be afraid of them, unless they stop moving and head toward you. If you value your life, you must close your eyes, put your hands together in prayer, and as calmly as you can say “I just wish to see the elders.” If they do not stop they will grab you, ensuring your end will be met in that wood; all your flesh will be torn from you and your still-living body will be fed to wolves.

If they recede, continue following the gentle pull. Eventually, when the forest has become so dark you can no longer determine if there is a canopy or simply night sky, you will see a campfire. Walk toward it, and around it will sit six men, wearing only loincloths and masks, each one identical but for color. Sit down in the empty space in the ring and look at each one in turn before asking, “When will it die?”

They will each turn toward you one at a time, and as you meet each one’s gaze, you will see horrible visions of how the world could end. Each one will last an eternity, but will be condensed into a moment. Many go mad from these powerful visions, and some attempt to put out their eyes with sticks from the fire, but you must steel yourself. If you, by some miracle, survive and remain sane through all the visions, you will find a new mask in your hand. You will feel an incredible urge to put it on. You must do so, because if you disgrace these elders, you will be cursed to ritual sacrifice. Your soul will be split into seven parts and sent into seven separate hells of suffering.

When you put on the new mask, you will see the true end of the world. This vision will be the most powerful, and no matter how resilient your mind you will break and lose all consciousness. When you awake, the fire will be dying, and the elders will be gone. All that remain are the seven masks. Pick them up and close your eyes. You will appear outside the wood, and you will see yourself at the beginning of your journey into the woods. Do not stop your past self, however, for if you do you’ll be trapped in a time paradox.

The seven masks are Object 127 of 538. If one is lost, the other six will also vanish, and with them all hope.

128. Holder of Memories

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask with a grin to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Memories.” The worker will cock her head and narrow her eyes, as though she isn’t convinced you are being serious. Ask again, but this time appear less at ease. The worker will still appear incredulous. Tell her, with a sheepish grin and an embarrassed demeanor, that you thought she was in on the joke, then excuse yourself in a flurry of apologies.

Once you have exited the institution, begin walking eastward. If the street does not run eastward, then walk northward. In either case, you should eventually come across a fifties-style diner that was never there before. Enter it.

The diner should be bustling and busy, even though there appear to be no customers. You will notice that all of the employees are exactly identical to the worker with whom you spoke at the institution. The meaning of this is not clear. Regardless, take a seat, preferably one from which you can quickly and easily bolt to the exit if need be.

Do not look at the menu yet. A waitress will come and take orders for drinks. Order any drink at all, so long as you order something; it is best one does not know what happens should no drink be ordered. When the waitress has returned, tell her you need more time to decide on your meal. You may now peruse the menu.

You will find that the menu is in fact a long, winding narrative about your life from the moment you were born. Read it carefully; it may take many, many hours. You will find that you have many memories, especially in your early childhood, that are long-forgotten. These are memories all humans share, but nobody remembers them; the mind deletes these memories for sanity’s sake, so hellish are they.

When you read the descriptions of these memories, however, they will return to your mind with full power. You may well snap at the ferocity of the experiences you never knew you had, but you must not show any sign of weakness, for they are watching.

As you read, the waitress will come by periodically to ask if you are ready. Tell her you still need more time, and she should leave. If she doesn’t leave and instead remains at your table, then they have become impatient. Your only hope is to dash IMMEDIATELY for the exit and out the door, and to keep running, down the street, out of the city, and on and on until the city is far, far behind you. If you value your life, you will never again set foot in that city.

But if you manage to read through the entire story safely, you will find that it ends rather abruptly at the point where you enter the diner, then give way to a rather mundane-looking menu listing that features hamburgers, french fries, milk shake, and the usual fare of such themed diners.

The next time the waitress comes by, order “Joe’s Hamburger Special”, even though such an item is not listed on the menu. The waitress will turn 360 degrees, and when she faces you once again she will somehow be holding a plate with a monstrous hamburger on it. When she gives you the hamburger, begin eating it. You may notice that the hustle and bustle in the diner has stopped completely, and all of the carbon-copy employees are now intently spectating your meal. Pay them no mind and wolf it down. When you are done, the waitress will ask, “Would you like the check?” you which you must nonchalantly reply, “Why do they flee from their memories?”

As soon as the words have escaped your lips, all of the identical employees will suddenly double over and, while emitting grotesque, painful sounds, vomit blood. A moment later, the entire diner will shift rapidly, and you may realize that the entire place is acting as though it is being sucked into a vacuum. When this happens, grip tightly to the table and do not let go, for the table at which you sit will be the only object in the diner that will not be sucked into the vacuum. The pull is immensely powerful, and it will be nearly impossible to keep your grip on the table through the ordeal, but still you must hang on, for there is no hope for you should you be drawn into the vacuum.

It will feel like an eternity, and the entire process will be violent and powerful, but eventually everything but the table will be gone without a trace. You will find you are clinging to a table in the middle of an unoccupied field several dozen miles away from the city in which you started.

That table is Object 128 of 538.

129. Holder of the Downtrodden

In any city, in any country, go to any homeless shelter or soup kitchen you can get yourself to. Ask the first employee or volunteer you see if he knows where one can find “The Holder of the Downtrodden.” If the worker looks around to make sure nobody’s listening before he responds, then you have come to the right place.

The worker will imply that he requires a bribe before he will take you where you must go. Give him a substantial amount of cash, and hopefully he will consider it a large enough amount. He will then show you to a door that was not there before, which will lead to a staircase the building should not have.

The worker will take you to a nonexistent floor with many, many rooms arranged in a chaotic fashion. The rooms do not have hallways connecting them, and thus one must walk through various rooms to get to his destination. The worker will make his way through the illogically-arranged floor with speed and efficiency born of experience, and it will be difficult to keep up. You must keep up, however, for being lost on this floor is eternal emptiness. Also, be sure to keep your attention focused solely on the worker whom you follow: the rooms through which you walk are occupied with people who have given in to despair and loneliness, and to pay them any heed is to join them forever.

After what will have felt like days, the worker will bring you to the only empty room, then gesture wordlessly to the door on the other end. Humming nonchalantly to himself, he will walk back the way he came, leaving you in that empty room. If you have any doubt in your heart, then you’d best leave, and hopefully catch up with the worker. Otherwise, push through the door.

You will find yourself in a dingy rathole of a place. Despite the effects of centuries of neglect, the room is just barely recognizable as a living room of sorts. On a seat that once was a respectable recliner will be a dour-looking old man. There is something to the man that tells of a life once filled with pride and success, but somewhere along the line went into a sharp nosedive that brought him to the bottom of the barrel.

With an angry-sounding, though unconvincing, bark, the old man will demand to know why you’ve come. Immediately snap back that it is none of his business, and assume a posture and demeanor as though you have absolutely no respect for this old man – that he is, to you, just human trash, not worthy of respect or dignity.

If you are convincing enough, the old man will cave in and lose what little bluster he had. He will meekly bow his head and become silent. Now you must rummage around the room as though you own place. Open every little cabinet and drawer you find, and rifle through. Take anything you like; so long as you maintain your facade of domination, nobody will dare stop you.

After you have looked through every storage place in the room, march up to the old man and demand to know where your payment is. The man will mumble and fumble for a while, but you must force a direct answer out of him, even if physical force is required. If you are successful, he will tell you how he ended up in his current situation. It is a story of dreams crushed by insensitive rivals, of opportunities missed, of dreams dashed by unfeeling bureaucracies, of success destroyed by a society mired in dogmatism. This man once had great potential and resolve to change the world for the better, but the world he tried to save turned right around and destroyed him for his noble efforts. It is a story of uncaring powers-that-be, of close friends becoming enemies in the name of ambition, of loved ones turning away because they only cared about themselves, even after everything he’d sacrificed for them. If you feel any remorse – any at all – for what you have done to this man after hearing his story, then you are doomed to take his place. You must harden your heart and feel no compassion if you wish to remain free.

Once the old man’s story is finished, grab him by the collar of his shirt and snarl, “What do they gain from the suffering they inflict?”

As the answer rips from him with force enough to bring you to your knees, you will gain the exact answer to your question. What little life was left in the old man will leave him, and he will sink back into his pathetic excuse for a chair. Now you may exit through the door from which you entered, which will open directly into the homeless shelter or soup kitchen in which you started. You will feel, right then, that what little compassion, what little care for others, you had inside you has died with that old man.

The hardness in your heart is Object 129 of 538.

130. Holder of the Script

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask rather bluntly to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Script.” If the worker freezes for a moment, then puts on a weak facade of normalcy, then you have come to the right place.

Nervously, the worker will direct you down a hall and to a door, then hastily dash away without another word. Enter the door, and you will find yourself in another hallway, this one without doors. Make your way down this bare hallway, making sure to exude nothing but confidence.

Should you, while walking down the hallway, hear a soft applause, stop immediately and shout, “I do not deserve any credit!” If the applause continues, then be thankful that your end will come quickly, though not without extreme pain.

If the applause dies down, you may proceed. At the end of the hall, the wall will be bare. Push the bare wall to find that is a hidden door; the entire wall will spin around and allow you passage. Enter to find yourself on a half-complete, harshly-lit stage. The rows of seats before the stage are all empty, save for one at the front and center. There sits the director, a man who appears to be in his late twenties, though you may notice he has no eyes.

Before you have a chance to collect your thoughts, the director will proceed to bark out a series of directions. Without missing a beat, you must do the exact opposite of each command, so think and act quickly. The director will grow increasingly agitated as you fail to carry out his directions, but you must not allow his anger to disrupt you, for breaking the rhythm at this point would mean inviting your understudy to take your place. No words can adequately describe what that would entail.

After hours of exhausting instruction and mounting frustration, the director will throw up his hands in defeat and declare you unworthy of playing the part. Before he has a chance to rise from his seat, quickly ask one question: “What is the part I must play?”

The director will guffaw incredulously and shake his head. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the stage below you will vanish, and you will fall into a seemingly bottomless pit. As you fall, you will hear the sounds of the most brutal massacres to ever occur, and those yet to come. You will hear the bones of the innocent crushed under the boots and treads of good and evil alike. Through it all, you will come to understand what your part is.

Be prepared for when you finally hit water; from the height you will have fallen, hitting the surface will be a painful blow. Allow yourself to sink to the bottom, for when you come into contact with the floor, you will appear suddenly in a cell in the institution. Lying at your feet will be a stack of papers stapled together.

If you read any part of what is written on those papers, then you accept your part in the script. Refusing to accept the part means one day being a victim of His rise. To accept the part means one day becoming the person responsible for it.

The script is Object 130 of 538.

131. Holder of Loyalty

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Loyalty.” Should a proud look come over the worker’s face, you are in the right place. Should the worker glare at you, run for dear life, as you were deemed unworthy by the Holder of the Object you seek. Do not stop for anything, as those that are after you do not know the meaning of rest, and will hunt you down relentlessly until they find you.

Should you be deemed worthy by the Holder, you will be taken down a hallway that wasn’t there before. In many of your previous adventures you are sure to have experienced much deception as the Holders try and try to lose you and protect their items. As the worker leads you down to your destination, you must harbor no wariness to the worker’s intentions. You will get what you came for, if and only if you are worthy and your thoughts are pure.

After following the worker for what seemed like an eternity, you will come to a plain wooden door. The worker will open the door for you and leave you to be on your way. If at any time during your walk with the worker you harbored thoughts of possible deception, two blood-red eyes will stare at you from the darkness of the opened door. There is no use crying for help now, for even the highest of powers are incapable of saving you. But if you were loyal to your intentions, there will be a battle taking place beyond the door. As you walk in the door will shut itself behind you, and you will find yourself in the middle of the chaos. You will then be captured by soldiers speaking in a language that is not of this earth. There is no use resisting, as they are capable of inflicting pain that is worse than anything you can ever imagine.

After they take you to their camp, you will then be accused of being a spy and will start torturing you. At this point they will try to make you confess and you must conjure up all your strength and try to weather this storm. Then the soldiers will turn into all the people you have ever scammed, squandered, and betrayed. They will then continue to pound on you not only physically, but also mentally as they remind you of every wrong the you have ever done to them. Many give up at this stage, and now they pay for their treachery with the lowest of the damned.

You must endure this until the soldiers’ superior officer appears. You can tell by the uniform and wolf-like creature that accompanies him, and also that the officer takes the form of the person you love the most. Once the Holder reveals himself, with all your remaining energy shout out, “Would you ever suspect me?!” At this point the other soldiers will stop, and the commanding officer will then narrate every betrayal in history, the pain it caused, and the destruction it resulted in. He will then go on to explain the true benefits of loyalty, along with the thin and dangerous line it runs beside fanaticism. If you did not go mad before, those who are not destined to finish this journey will surely crack at knowledge that the world will never be ready for. After the officer’s story he will then ask, “Do you pledge your allegiance to Him?” Swiftly and with resolve answer, “I stay true only to myself.”

If the Holder doesn’t believe you, your ordeal earlier will continue, adding to your misery his pet wolf will gnaw on you like a tasty bone for all eternity. But if the Holder believes you, he will punch you in the gut, and as your consciousness wanes, you barely hear him say, “We will meet again.”

When you wake up you will be outside the mental institution without a scratch on your body. Sleeping beside you will be the wolf-like creature that was accompanying the officer earlier.

That wolf is Object 131 of 538.

132. Holder of Fame

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask if you can see someone calling himself “The Holder of Fame.” The worker should sternly deny having any patient named as such, but afterwards he will make sure that no one is looking and discreetly give you a guitar pick and whisper, “Say hello to him for me, will ya? I’m a huge fan.” Gratefully accept the pick and thank the worker, then leave the institution. You will notice that night has fallen when you exit the building, no matter what time you first entered.

Directly across the street will be a bar, even if it wasn’t there before. Go to that bar, and you will hear music playing. Pay no attention to the music, as those now in the audience were those foolish enough to stop and enjoy it. These unfortunate individuals are now forever tormented by tunes that melt their bodies and souls while their ears bleed, their hearing undiminished in the face of this demonic harmony. Head backstage, where a bouncer will be waiting. When he blocks your path, show him the guitar pick you received from the worker. If the bouncer still does not let you through, pray that he takes off your head first, so that you won’t have to feel the pain of being torn apart by his bare hands. If he lets you through, you will be guided into a room, which, unlike the fancy bar decor that surrounded you earlier, will be a simple room, with walls painted in beige and a single lamp hanging overhead. In the middle of a room will be a man who by all appearances looks like a rock star, with long, wavy hair, a thin physique, and tight jeans. He will be playing an electric guitar, and next to him will be another chair with a second guitar resting on a stand beside it. Untold horrors and nightmares await you should this scene not be the one you encounter when the bouncer lets you through.

The guitarist will be playing the most beautiful of tunes. He plays so skillfully, it’s as if his fingers were gently treading water at the beach. You will be mesmerized by his skill, but all the more with the music he is playing. Yet you feel that it is a sad song, and its tragic message will reverberate within your very soul with every pluck of the string. Many are driven to depression at that very moment and decide to end their own lives, but if you are steadfast, you must sit down beside the guitarist. Once you do this, he will stop playing and say, “Will you share this song with me?” At this point you are only allowed to ask one question: “You’re that famous guy, right?”

If the guitarist does not answer, he has deemed you unworthy of his presence and the strings of his guitar will latch on and fillet your body, then drag your soul into the deepest pits of Hell. But if he likes you, he will say, “It’s not all it was hyped up to be.” Here you must pick up the guitar beside you and play along with him. Even if you don’t know how to play the guitar, you will find you suddenly know how to. The two of you will then play a song different from what the guitarist was playing earlier. As you play your part, you will start seeing sad and powerful images in your mind, but you must keep your concentration. The guitarist doesn’t like screw-ups, and you don’t want to know what he did with his previous back-up guitarists. With the images boring into your mind like red-hot steel hissing into your skin, you will see every person in history who was blinded by the glamour of the camera lights, and failed to see the real light of the sun, ultimately falling into eternal darkness. They thought they were special, and lifted themselves above anyone who they saw dirty or unfit, only to realize they were filthier than those they hated so much, and that they were just like everyone else. They forgot the true essentials of life, and thus forfeited it.

After your performance, he will pat you on the back and commend you for your beautiful playing. Return your guitar to its stand, thank the guitarist for his time, and leave the room from the door through which you originally entered. When you open the door, you will be blinded by a flash of light. Close your eyes immediately and open them when you feel the surroundings dimming, and you will find yourself in your bedroom. After two weeks a package will be sent to you, and inside will be the guitar you played earlier. He also has signed his autograph on it, but it will be in a language that does not exist in this world. You will receive his message regardless, as you now know the true cost of eminence.

That guitar is Object 132 of 538.

133. Holder of Compassion

In any city, in any country, go to any animal shelter and tell the first woman you see, “I am here for the Holder of Compassion.” Do not tell a man, or he will try to end your life. If you have come at the right time, the woman will shiver and lead you through the building to an incredibly long concrete hall lined with dirty cages where they keep a striking array of unwanted animals, from mundane cats and dogs to tropical birds and monkeys. The woman will continue walking ahead of you, but will not speak or slow down. It will become increasingly apparent that every animal is sick or injured in some way, and their conditions grow worse as you progress down the hall. Some are missing eyes or limbs, others bleed from open wounds. The floor grows thicker with matted hair and feathers, cages appear caked with feces and flies buzz loudly in your face. The stink is overpowering, and the air is hot. You will come to a sharp turn, then another, then another. Your guide will disappear around the third or fourth bend, but continue forward, quietly.

You will notice that the animals themselves become subtly more peculiar as you wander what now feels like a veritable labyrinth for hours on end. You will see animals from far-off continents, rodents of unusual size and colorful reptiles you have never heard of, but even as the creatures become more exotic, so too their afflictions become increasingly horrendous. Pus weeps from open sores, bloated ticks scramble over scabrous flesh and blood flows in large rivers from small bodies. Some creatures are all but hidden under globular tumors and cysts. Animals reach out to you, pleading with their eyes – if they have eyes – to end their existence, but do not dare touch them, or you will carry their afflictions for life. Do not attempt to let any animal free, or it will kill you no matter how helpless and small it appears. Should you wish to leave, the last bend you took will lead back outside, but you will never be rid of the pathogens you have been breathing. Some were never meant for this world; terrible contagions you will unleash on man for all time.

Should you continue on the proper path, the strangeness around you will escalate to maddening levels. Entrails drag and eyeballs dangle. The walls swarm with parasites no doctor could name. Soon you will come upon fly-blown fish and squid floundering helpless on cage floors. Dogs pace and whine without heads. Gore-crusted skeletons scrabble at rusted bars. You will see things long extinct and things that were yet to evolve, squawking and croaking for food and water that will never come.

Eventually, you will arrive in a perfectly round chamber, small but impossibly high. The ceiling is obscured in darkness, but cages line the walls as far up as the eye can see. Keep your head down, for the suffering you would witness in this room might forever destroy your mind. Focus only on the dark shape in the center of the floor, a nondescript pile of black fur on a filthy pillow.

Ask this creature one question and one question alone: “What is compassion?” If you hear “I am awaiting my family,” all is lost, for the shaggy beast will immediately rip you to shreds with unseen claws. If you were, however, worthy of this quest, it will answer your question in excruciating detail. Be forewarned that you will not like this knowledge. When it is finished speaking, ask the creature, “can I fix this?” If it yet brings up its family, now is a good time to run. You were not meant to be here. If it says “do what you must,” kill the animal by any means possible. If you are successful, you will hear the echo of its dying words: “I was loved.” Search the body and you will find only bones, hair and a worn, pink collar with a rusted heart-shaped tag. The air is now clear, cool and silent. Only clean white bones remain in cages. Step outside this room and you will be outside the shelter.

The collar is Object 133 of 538. The address on the ancient tag will be your own.

134. The Holder of Skepticism

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself into. When you reach the front desk, ask to be taken to someone who calls himself “The Holder of Skepticism.” The worker will stare at you with a puzzled look on her face. After about a minute, she will turn her head and appear to shout something. However, you will only hear complete silence. A man dressed in all white will come up from behind you and grab you by the arm.

The man will lead you down a long hallway and stop at the 8th door on his left. He will then unlock and open the metal door, revealing a dark and almost infinitely large room. Up until now, your visit has been met with complete silence. The man will then push you inside and slam the door shut. The door will produce a very loud crashing sound and you will be immersed in complete darkness. If you flinch from the sound, you will lose your current train of thought and never make it out of the room. Remain completely calm. Feel the walls around you. After a while, you will notice that you are inside a maze. In order to get out of the maze, you must listen for instructions from a voice coming from inside your head. Even though the voice sounds sinister and foreboding, you must listen to its every word, for if you make one false step in the maze, you will be led to your doom.

After what seems like hours, you will find a hole 3 feet in height in the maze wall with a faint orange light shining out of it. Crawl into the hole and you will enter a small dimly lit room. A man, bald with a long gray beard, yet with young facial features, will sit cross-legged in the middle of the room, with eyes closed. If you do not ask the question “Why do I seek Them?” within the next few seconds, He will open his blank white eyes and with a look of intense anger and hatred, He will tear you apart with his gaze. If you have asked the question successfully, He will tell you a very long and detailed story about Their importance. You will quickly forget anything that comes out of His mouth and become increasingly impatient. Afterwards, He will ask, “Is the Object you seek valuable to you?”. You must respond by shaking your head as He despises the faithful and obedient.

He will point to a gray stone on the ground. Take it. Upon touching the stone, you will feel angry and discouraged. You will begin to question the meaning of life and why you have suffered so much in this life. Perhaps, life is just a dream. Wouldn’t you want to wake up from this dream and end your nightmares? Take a sharp object and plunge it into your heart. However, as you drop the stone in order to draw your dagger, your senses will come back to you. You will have no recollection of your most recent thoughts.

The stone is Object 134 of 538.

135. Holder of the Odds

In any country, in any city, go to any hotel casino that you can get yourself into. Go to the front desk and say that you have a reservation for someone calling himself the “Holder of the Odds.” The receptionist should give you a surprised look, and start addressing you as if you were royalty. She should give you a gold coin, with each side having a beautifully engraved sign, as if a letter from an unknown language. If you receive anything else then you must start running. May they have mercy on your soul should you even steal a glance behind you. Don’t stop moving, if your legs give out, then crawl, make sure that before you pass out from exhaustion that the last thing you’re doing is moving forward and never looking back. You know you’re safe if you’re at the same place you passed out the next day.

If you receive the gold coin, it’ll be your last chance to back out. If your knees fail, you may return the coin to the receptionist and respectfully take your leave. If you are determined, proceed to the elevator. Make sure that you’re alone when you get in, and before the doors close you must flip the gold coin. Fail to do so and your elevator will move on its own. Resign yourself to your fate, as you will feel the elevator going down endlessly, down into the hellish heat of the depths of the earth. If you succeed you will notice that there are two other buttons on the elevator panel with designs similar to the sides of your coin. Push the button of whatever side that came up after the coin flip. If you’re lucky, then the side that comes up from your coin flip will be the right side. There’s no way to determine which is the right side and only those who are truly destined to finish this journey or are extremely lucky chance upon it. No one knows what happens to you when you push the wrong button.

If you push the right button, you will be taken to a floor on the hotel that was never supposed to be there. When the doors open you will see the most luxurious of suites. It overlooks a beautiful city skyline around late afternoon with the sun beginning to set, no matter what time you first entered the hotel. The large room is fit for a king, with all the comforts you will ever want and everything you didn’t know you needed.

In the middle of it all will be a card table. At the table there is a dealer and five other players. One player is dressed in a long trench coat and sports a top hat; the other four will be Seekers who came before you. There’s a chair beside the player in the top hat. Take a seat, as they’ve waited long enough for you. You will now play a Texas hold ’em poker tournament, with each player starting with exactly $135 in chips. Whoever wins at the end will be given whatever card was drawn in the river, or the last card, on the last hand. After that the dealer and the player in the top hat will leave the room; the other players will simply vanish, to experience unspeakable horrors until the next game begins. If you won, you will then be left alone; you may leave the room at any time, but it will be difficult to find again. Even though everything you need is in this room, you’ll notice that there is no clock, and the only contact with the outside world is a cellular phone which will only allow you to contact one person: the Bride of the Seeker, even if you’re not the Chosen. You will be served the most exquisite of foods and pampered like you’ve never been before in your life. After seven sunsets the dealer and players will return and you must play another hold’em tournament. Again, if you win you get the card that comes at the river.

Every week, you may play this game until you have collected the full 52 cards of a standard playing deck (not including the jokers), though the designs on the cards, especially the face cards, are very different from the ones you’re used to as they use a language of the most ancient of origins. Should you lose a game to one of the other Seekers, he will be allowed to go free, and you will be subjected to something worse than your worst nightmare: being shown thoroughly and conclusively that in the end, nothing is up to chance and everything is predetermined. Even if you win when the next Seeker comes, you will never have hope again.

No one knows what happens if the Holder wins. Even though he certainly plays his best, a look of utter terror comes upon even his face if he comes close to winning.

No one has won more than seven in a row, though different cards have been documented. It seems only the Chosen Seeker will be lucky enough to see this through to the very end.

This deck is Object 135 of 538.

136. Holder of the Fact

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls herself “The Holder of the Fact.” The worker will slowly turn their head up from the inevitable mounds of paperwork they were focused on, and a sly grin should slide across their features, as if in silent mockery. They will slowly stand and lead you towards the entrance to the institution. Instead of the entrance, however, is a large gothic staircase.

As you climb the stairs, you will hear insane blasphemies uttered by gibbering voices, and the cry of someone in pain calling out your name from the foot of the stairs, begging you to abandon this madness. It is vitally important that you continue up the stairs, as only horror awaits at the foot of them now.

Eventually, you will come to a large door at the top of the stairs. Grip the handle strongly, close your eyes, and enter. Just keep walking ahead. No matter what you hear, no matter what you feel, it is crucial that you do not open your eyes. Regardless of which direction you headed in, you should soon find yourself at a dead end. In front of you is a shelf, entirely empty except for a small, unassuming leather book. Pick up this book, and turn the very last page. On it is a picture of a key. Look up again. You’re now facing a large stone door, with the words “Deus ex Insania” engraved on it.

Reach out and open the door, being careful not to gag as the centuries old dust from within bursts out. Crouched in the corner, nearly invisible in the dust storm stirred up by your intrusion, crouches the Holder. She scribbles madly, the scratching of the ancient quill in her hands forms into subconscious words in your mind, even as the Holder continues to write. The quill tells you of ancient horrors, of immemorial madness, of the absolute bitterness of the uncaring cosmos, and it tells you of your tiny, meaningless existence, as mere ink blot in the sprawling infinity of our universe, and finally, the insane scratching will tell you the one piece of information that leaves many a Seeker a broken shell of a human. The quill will tell you Their true name.

That name is Object 136 of 538.

137. Holder of Submission

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Submission.” Should the worker sneer in utter contempt at you, then you have come to the right place.

The worker will lead you through a series of hallways. Should you try to make any conversation, he will invariably cut you off with a rude remark or insult. Do not bother, and certainly do not try to argue with or one-up him. It is best to remain silent.

Eventually the worker will point at a door that looks no different from any other you might have passed earlier. He will then continue walking deeper into the institution without another word. There is no turning back; open the door and plunge in before you even see what is inside.

You will fall for about ten feet before slamming onto a marble floor in a massive throne room. If you break bones due to the fall, then there is no helping you. The throne room in which you will find yourself is not only enormous, but lavish, with heavy obsidian pillars leading up to a massive, sprawling throne draped with heavy black cloths and lined with fine gold designs. The throne is so large that it can accommodate the several dozen scantily-clad women – all chained by ankle braces to the floor – seated all about it in addition to the warrior-king on the throne.

The warrior-king is a towering, muscular man with the bearing of a proud, confident, and predatory warrior. He wears nothing but a loincloth, exposing his rippling muscles and countless battle scars. His force of will is so great as to be physically palpable. This warrior-king has clearly seen many battles and is strong enough to slay a thousand men with ease. He will fix you with a stony glare of utter contempt. Be quick, for the warrior-king has little patience. Ask him, “To what power will they submit?”

The warrior-king will roar with laughter, not of mirth but of condescension directed at you. He will boast that no entity is more powerful than he, and that he cares not for the Holders or the Objects or Him. He will demand that you cease your quest and become one of his lieutenants, that he will provide you anything you need, no matter how outrageous the request, so long as you never leave his palace nor think or speak of the quest for the Objects ever again.

The warrior-king’s power is so great that even the staunchest, most determined person might be swayed to submit to him. Nevertheless, if you are truly determined to collect the Objects, you must stand strong and not bow to his immense presence. Instead, firmly repeat the question.

This time, the warrior-king will roar angrily. His concubines will be scattered and smashed against the obsidian pillars by the force of his outburst, and the very foundations of the throne room will tremble with his rage. You will certainly be sent sprawling, but do not allow yourself to be cowed by the warrior-king’s rage. This time, the warrior-king will call you a fool among commoners, and that your best hope is to abandon your quest to become his servant, cleaning up whatever mess he leaves behind after the violent battles and large orgies he has every day. Once again, fight his alluring aura to shout the question one last time.

Now the warrior-king will grow silent and look you in the eye. If he deems you unworthy of his true, honest answer, then he will cripple you on the spot and seal you in his palace to be his waste-cleaner for the rest of eternity.

If you are worthy, however, the warrior-king will tell you, softly, why he fears Him, and why he fears the Gathering. What he tells you will fill you with terror to the very core of your being, for anything dreaded even by this fearless and powerful warrior-king is beyond human comprehension. Many fall into insanity upon hearing the warrior-king’s true answer, and others beg him for a swift death. If you maintain your sanity and will to live, however, then a sudden gust of wind will blow through the hall, dissolving the warrior-king’s throne room into nothingness. You will fall into a void for a few moments before finding yourself suddenly standing in front of the institution’s front desk. The visibly annoyed worker will be holding one of the ankle braces that confined the warrior-king’s concubines to his throne.

That ankle brace is Object 137 of 538.

138. The Holder of Denial

I’ve worked in halfway houses and mental institutions all over the country, in countless cities and towns. The work isn’t bad and it pays a bit better than most menial jobs I’ve held. I try to be a good girl, to be kind and polite to others, but my job has affected me. To help the sick and broken you need to harden your heart and accept unpleasant truths about people. Accept that some addicts don’t want to get clean. That what seems like compassion can sometimes be indulging the delusions of the mad, and that some people really do need to be restrained for their own good.

I won’t say the name or location of the place I work now, only that I’ve been here for a long time. When I was first hired the pay was low and the hours were short and I was not in a position to complain. I’d been working reception for a week or two when a man came in, walked with purpose to my desk and asked to see The Holder of Denial. A look of confusion must have come over my face, because he grew suddenly impatient. He screamed at me and I flinched, he banged his fist on the desk and insisted that he see The Holder of Denial. I was still trying to calm him down when my supervisor came forward. Mr. Musil took one look at the man and the man fell silent. Mr. Musil nodded to me, said “it’s all right,” and led the man down a hallway that I must have passed a hundred times without ever noticing. The man glanced back at me with a grim smile on his face. I glared at him, there was no excuse for rudeness like that and I was irritated that he’d calmed down so quickly for my supervisor. It had made me look incompetent.

Others came after him, all demanding to see the Holder of Denial, all screaming and making a scene only to calm down once Mr. Musil arrived to take them away. I walked after them once or twice, just out of curiosity, just to see what they were doing. Each time, Mr. Musil led them through a door, locked them in and walked away. He smiled at me when we passed each other. Once he left the key in the lock behind him and I nearly used it to open the door. But when my hand touched the key I felt a sick sense of guilt, a hard chewing feeling in my gut that I’d felt before when I knew the mess I was about to be punished for was my fault and my fault alone. I pulled the key out and returned it to Mr. Musil’s desk. He’d left early that evening.

It wasn’t until the next day that I heard what happened to him. How he’d driven his car with his wife and son in it off a bridge. How the windows had been rolled down and the seatbelts buckled, and how it seemed that none of them had tried to get out of the car. They’d all sat there while the filthy river water rushed in and drowned them.

The next time someone came demanding the Holder, I hid. I can’t stand to be yelled at, so I ran to the back room and hoped the red-eyed, pregnant woman at the front would go away and look for her “Holder of Denial” elsewhere. She’d been shouting for eight solid minutes when I went to Mr. Musil’s desk and found the key I’d left there. I led her to the door at the end of the hallway without the slightest feeling of unease. Though I did wonder if Mr. Musil had been in the habit of going back to let them out later in the day. He always locked the door behind them, so they surely weren’t getting out on their own. There must have been some other exits they were using. That seemed likely.

I didn’t worry about it.

After the pregnant woman, the next person to ask for the Holder was a young man who’d only started his shouting when I cut him off, saying “I’ll only take you if you quiet down and ask me politely.” He looked around uncertainly and repeated his request in a more civil tone. He trembled as I led him to the door, as did the next few who came to see the Holder. All were at a loss in the face of a few words that they hadn’t expected.

From then on I took care of the sad-eyed, determined ones who asked to see the Holder. They were mostly men but there were a lot of women too. Almost all of them wore a dry, haunted look on their faces, and the few who didn’t smiled so brightly that they frightened me. I took the ones who wore piles of rags and the ones who wore tailored suits. I took the ones with scars and tattoos, with long beards and tight smiles, with pale skin and dark skin and veins that bulged at the surface. None of them came back. I felt such tenderness towards the quiet, broken-looking ones. With them I felt like a mother putting a sick child to bed. The arrogant, cruel-eyed ones I sent through the door laughing inside, feeling an inexplicable, mean satisfaction. For the life of me I couldn’t tell you why; after all they’d asked to go through that door, hadn’t they?

I must make it sound as if these people come in every day, but that’s only because they’ve blurred together over the years. Really, they arrive occasionally and randomly. Sometimes months will go by without one arriving and then two will come on the same day, just hours apart. I’ve only seen a lot of them because I’ve been here a long time. The bad habits that used to keep me from holding down a job: tardiness, absentmindedness, my tendency to slip out the back and sneak secret joints that led to the absentmindedness…none of these things bothered anybody so long as I kept leading the Seekers to the door. I took longer hours. People covered for my mistakes and started looking at me strangely, the way I used to look at Mr. Musil.

By and by I began to feel a nagging doubt. I wondered; what if there was no second door, no exit for that room? I’d never seen anything but darkness inside, never taken more than a second’s accidental look. How big could it possibly be? All those people going in and never coming out, it must have begun to get crowded in there. It might be better if fewer people ever entered the door. Around the time I started entertaining these thoughts I began to notice a button under the front desk. I don’t know if it had been there before, hard and jeweled and amber colored, but if I pressed it when a Seeker came the lights in the room would flicker and go bright. And while I was blinded I’d feel something soft move past me and smell something foul, and when the lights returned to normal the Seeker was always gone. Sometimes they’d leave a tear in the carpet or a dark stain which I had to clean, but at least I didn’t have to send them all down the hallway.

I pressed the button on the Seekers who hadn’t learned that I value politeness and on those that didn’t ask politely enough. When I saw something smirking and contemptuous in the Seeker’s eyes I would press the button hard enough to break the skin of my palm. I began to take comfort in cleanliness of light and the muffled cries that sounded like songs. I took any excuse I could to press the button and not send a Seeker down the hall. Those I did send still didn’t return.

Until one day, when one man did return. I didn’t like him from the moment he entered, with his sharp suit and sharp smile and empty, empty eyes. I went for the button before he reached the desk, but something stopped my hand. He nodded and asked me, very politely, to see the Holder of Denial. Some people I lead to the Holder tremble with visible fear, others hide it, and a very small number seem to be able to suppress it. But this man simply lacked it, the way a story might lack a proper ending. It chilled me. I was relieved to send him through the door. He gave me a too-wide smile and a wink, and disappeared into darkness. I locked him in, stumbled outside and smoked until a thin excuse for calm returned to me, then I went back to my desk and pretended to busy myself with paperwork. I heard footsteps coming down the hallway that I must have walked down a hundred times without hesitating on, and the man with empty eyes came out. He was carrying something in his hands. Something covered in hair or perhaps made of hair, long wet strands of hair that trailed down through his fingers. I tried to press the button that would bring the clean, white light, the light that was pure and that would cover this ugliness. He stopped me. He moved faster than my eye could follow and stopped me, keeping my hand held in his, grinning a devil smile and clucking his tongue. His grin was too wide. I was sure it would swallow me up.

Terrified, I only asked one question: “What are you going to do to me?”

I thought he would kill me. What he did was much worse, he explained things to me. He told me what had happened to each person I had sent down the hallway. Told me in great detail the tests they had failed and the tortures they had suffered. He told me what happened to Seekers under the blinding light that kept me from seeing the things that set on them, that tore them apart and dragged them into the white-hot filament of each light bulb. He told me about the thing I had been helping to guard, and the thing that helped me guard it. He made me see what I had done.

He left. I didn’t.

Seekers still come asking for The Holder of Denial. Some I send down the hall, some I press the button on. I don’t know if there’s anything there for them to seek anymore. No others have ever come back. I try to be a good girl, kind and polite to others, but my job has affected me. To stay whole and healthy, you need to harden your heart to unpleasant truths about yourself. To tie your thoughts down for your own good.

The trichinobezoar the man carried out is Object 138 out of 538.

139. Holder of Entertainment

In any city, in any country, go to any movie theater you can get yourself to. You must drive to the theater, for if you fail, you must go fast enough to escape the horrors that will chase you. Go up to the box office, and ask to see the film called “The Holder Of Entertainment.” If the worker calls for security, then run to your car and drive out of the state, and don’t come back for a month. Only then will it be safe to come back. If she, and only a she, nods and hands you a blue ticket, go inside and find a theater that doesn’t look like it belongs there. It shouldn’t be hard to find.

Go inside, and you will find a lone seat. Sit down, and wait for twenty minutes. If nothing happens, then you will be sealed inside forever, and it will be as if you never existed. However, if a film starts playing, then you’ve made it. The screen will display every war, every man used for the sole purpose of destruction for another man’s enjoyment. This will go on for hours, days, maybe even weeks. Keep your sanity, stare right into the screen while this is going on. Then, after it’s over, simply walk out of the theater. Drive to your house, and live your life. Keep the blue ticket with you.

After three days, sit on your bed at midnight. Wait there quietly, turn off your cell phone, tv, anything. When you hear a growl, get out the blue ticket. The growling will get louder, and soon you will see a strange creature in front of you. It will try to lunge at you, but when it does, rip the ticket. Rip it in front of the creature’s face, and it will let out a horrible screech, die after a few minutes, then disappear, as will the torn ticket. On the spot the creature disappeared, there will be a ticket stub.

The ticket stub is Object 139 out of 538. Written on it is one simple word, remember it.

140. The Holder of Forsaken Reality

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask the receptionist if they are able to comprehend the reality. The receptionist should look at you with a shocked expression, and back away very quickly. They will press themselves against the wall opposite to the counter, shaking in fear. You will be unable to move as the wall cracks, splinters, and finally shatters. The receptionist will fall through, screaming. Once you feel you are ready, make your way to the opening.

At the precipice, you will see that the space beyond the wall is a massive drop. At the bottom will wait monstrosities the likes of which plague your imagination when you sleep, the kinds that you do not even remember because carrying them in your mind would reduce you to a gibbering wreck. The horrifying screams of these creatures will make you want to tear out your eardrums, to excise your very nerves, but you must fight to retain control of yourself. Your task is simple, yet nigh-insurmountable for many: You must step off the edge. However, you must completely block from your senses these terrors that wait for you. Close your eyes, cover your ears, do whatever you have to do to keep yourself from thinking about them. If you are successful, you will not fall, but your feet will strike solid ground. Now, still blocking the beasts from your mind, you must walk. If you falter in your utter belief of the monsters’ nonexistence for even a moment, you will plummet downward, and they will have their way with you. Once you have walked what could be miles, you will feel a piece of paper being pushed into your hand. It is at this point that you will be safe. At least, more so than you were, so long as you do not look at the paper.

You will find yourself in a dank room. You will be unable to make out any surroundings, as the only light source is on the ceiling. It will be a torch, but inverted. The wooden part will be stuck into the ceiling, with the flame burning at the end of it. That is, the flame will be burning down toward you, away from the torch itself. Know now that this is not any sort of magic, nor is it illusion; it is actually scientifically possible for fire to burn downward. How this is possible has been lost to all, and it is one of the two secrets that only the Holder knows. However, as you stand there, you will begin to realize how it is possible. At this point, you must fight with all your strength against this revelation. You must once again block your mind from the realization of how fire can burn downward. This is forbidden knowledge, and if you were to learn it, you would become the next Holder, depravedly waiting for the next unfortunate soul to pass the secret down to before your painful demise.

You must fight these thoughts for an indeterminate amount of time until the torch goes out. At that point, you must call out into the darkness, “Why are They denied?” As you stand, you will be assaulted by visions of people who denied reality in order to escape it. Every rejection of the truth from simple ignorance to denial to extreme schizophrenia will be laid open, laid painfully bare for you to see. It will be far, far worse than it sounds, for you will also realize what could have happened had they not ignored the truth. Eventually, when you can no longer tell whether or not you are conscious, you will awaken on the floor of the mental institution. In your hand will be the piece of paper, which you may now look at.

Written on this piece of paper is the second of the Holder’s secrets: it is a number. This number is special, however, for a number of reasons: First, because it is a regular counting number that was never included in the actual number system used today. However, it is obvious that this number is an incredibly important part, as important as any counting number, and you will realize that its existence renders practically all mathematical algorithms used today useless. Second, this number can only be written on one surface at a time. If it is written on two, the surface that it was written on less recently will be destroyed in a seemingly random chain of events. Third, thoughts of this number will never leave your mind. You will be endlessly thinking of this number, dismantling and reassembling modern mathematics in an effort to correct what you now know is a gigantic mistake. If you are not able to keep your thoughts from this number, you will eventually descend into madness, forever seeking the truth and never finding it.

Whatever surface the number is written on is Object 140 of 538.

141. Holder of the Wheel

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Wheel.” The worker will promptly call for security, causing two large, muscular men wearing white to appear instantly and drag you away. Do not resist them.

The security men will drag you through many, many hallways and rooms, each getting darker and unkempt as you progress. Anybody else who walks by will turn away and hide his face upon seeing you. Should any of them instead look you directly in the eye, immediately shout at him, “My card has yet to be drawn!” If the patient or staffer then walks up to you to touch you, then it has been set in motion; success was not in your future. It would be best to just close your eyes, rather than witness the horror of the tearing of your limbs.

If the person walks away, you are safe. The security men will drag you along until you have reached a damp and dirty cell in a long-abandoned section of the institution. The men will shove you inside and lock the door behind you. It will be dark as pitch. The walls will be dripping with blood from the previous seekers that have tried and failed to recover this particular holder’s object. You cannot see it in the dark, but you will be able to hear the incessant dripping. Walk forward. As you get closer, the center of the room will gradually brighten, though the walls will still be in shadow. In the center of the room is a gigantic wheel contraption, spanning nearly half the room, with prayer cards inscribed in a forgotten language at the end of every spoke. An ancient-looking, dark-skinned man will be seated near the wheel in the center of the room, slowly turning the wheel with his hand. Ask him, “For whom does the wheel turn?”

If the old man does not deem you worthy, he will simply stop turning the wheel and look at you. His thoughtful, understanding gaze will slowly turn into that of hatred and loathing. His gaze will slowly tear apart your very existence, ripping apart every fiber of your insolent soul, thoroughly bathing the room in another fresh coat of crimson.

If, however, the old man does in fact deem you worthy, he stop the wheel and pull a card from it. After carefully folding it, close your eyes and he will hand it to you. Keep your eyes closed until you feel something tap your right shoulder. You will still be holding the card but you will be outside of the mental institution or halfway house that you entered earlier, except now, no matter what time you entered, it will be dusk.

You may now look at the card. The card will have an intricate image of a small child, hanging by the neck by a noose in a courtyard. On the back, the card will be blank except for a small symbol in the corner in the same forgotten language that is on the front.

That card is Object 141 of 538.

142. Holder of Balance

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Balance.” Upon this request, the worker will insist that you must be here to see the Holder of Love and begin leading you down a small corridor. If you do not quickly interject before the worker has left the room then you will forever lose the chance to complete your task. Following him can only lead to the Holder of Love.

Should you speak in time, the worker will slam the door to which he was headed and remove a large umbrella from his left breast pocket. Steal it from him and open it horizontally before he has a chance to take it back. The inside of the umbrella is the doorway through which you must pass.

The room to which you have come is dark and moist. All that is visible is a decaying head protruding through the wall, his left hand covering his eyes and his right holding a set of golden scales. As you approach him you will notice two small men, one on each side of the scale, about an inch and a half tall. The man on the left is clothed in black, and the other is in white.

Walk into the light that illuminates the men and let them see you clearly. The man in black will threaten to end his life with a shiny black pistol he will pull from his pocket. Should he die and fall off the scales, the imbalance will cause the room to collapse. To keep the scales from tipping, you must convince the man in white to kill himself or the man in black to spare his own life.

If the balance is kept, say to the man holding the scales “I have kept the balance.” He will open his mouth to respond, but only a feather will float from his mouth.

The feather is Object 142 of 538.

143. Holder of the Seal

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Ask the person behind the counter to speak to the one who calls himself “The Holder of the Seal.” The clerk ought to begin to giggle gleefully and run out the front door, seemingly overjoyed.

Wait for the doors to close, and then quickly follow the employee. You’ll find that the doors open into a lush Mediterranean forest, with the scent of salt on the air and the crash of waves just audible above the cries of the local fauna. There is a chateau at the top of a towering, sheer cliff overlooking the balmy sea water; go to it. Be careful as you trek through the forest, or along the shore, whichever way your journey takes you , this forest, though it may look it, is not of this world.

The chateau should appear deserted, dilapidated, and in disrepair. If it does, enter. If it doesn’t, then leave the area. Build yourself a hut, and wait the days or months until it does. You want no part of what’s going on inside. Once it looks aged and decrepit, enter.

When you do enter the chateau, make your way toward the cliff, toward the sea. You’re looking for a towering set of mahogany double doors, engraved with arcane letters and symbols. These are of the Language; don’t stare at them for too long, lest they consume you.

Enter. You’ll find a library of sorts, looking out over the sea through an enormous panoramic window. There will be many, many bookshelves crammed with dusty books whose pages haven’t felt the touch of a hand, human or otherwise, for untold millennia. Don’t dwell too long on these; there are two thousand of them, and if you stop to satisfy your curiosity, you’ll join the other corpses in the room. You might even see one at your feet: the remains of a previous Seeker who couldn’t resist. There’s no way to know for sure, though; this Holder likes to tidy up every now and then. There will be reading chairs, too, larger and softer than you could have imagined possible, made of materials long gone from this world. These, too, may have corpses in them, each one hunched over a book.

There will be one bookshelf with only a few books on it, the rest scattered all over the floor in front of it or held in the dead hands of the corpses in the chairs. This is the one you care about.

At some point during your time in this library, you’ll run into the Holder of the Seal: an aged, decaying old man with reading glasses and a flowing robe that looks like it might once have been beautiful. He, like his brethren, will respond to only one question: “Am I the one to stop Them?” Ask it, and he’ll ask you to help him put the books away. It would be awfully rude to decline.

As you’re about to put the last book in place, stop, and ask the man again: “Am I the one to stop Them?” He’ll tell you, in maddening detail, what it will take to stop them. The sacrifice, tribute, suffering, torment, and vengeance that must be visited on mankind to keep them from coming together. Finally, he’ll answer your question: You hold in your hands the means to stop them. If you’ve been paying attention while reshelving the books, you’ll have noticed that by this time you have placed five-hundred and thirty-seven on the shelf. Place the five-hundred and thirty-eighth book on the shelf, and the 538 Objects’ powers will be sealed, their special properties lost, their evil banished, and their Holders and Seekers freed.

And there, as they say, is the rub. Because some Holders are better off imprisoned by their Objects. And quite a few Seekers won’t be happy to find that the precious Objects they’ve gone through so much trouble to collect are now ordinary objects. In fact, they’ll probably be rather angry. And they’ll definitely be on their way to the chateau.

Now you have to make a choice. You can leave, right now, and you might make it back to the doors you entered this world through before the swarm of enraged Holders and Seekers arrive to punish the one who’s upturned their world. If you leave, they’ll find only the Holder of the Seal, tear him to pieces, and rip the books off their shelves, restoring the 538 to power and returning motion to the wheels that grind the cosmos ever closer to Their reunion. You may escape with your life, but you won’t obtain this Object.

If you truly seek to stop Them, however, then you must stay in the library. Soon, every horror ever known will arrive and throw itself against the walls, windows, roof, and foundation of the chateau. They won’t get in right away, however; this is the Holder’s domain, and he has some power here. He won’t be able to last for long, though, old as he is, so you’ll have to act quickly. Somewhere on the bookshelf is the story of this Object … its Book. You must find it and read it. Be warned: the titles, pages, and labels on the shelves are all in the Language, and they’re not in any order that makes sense to mortals. Furthermore, each Book contains the full history of its Object … the full history, with every gruesome detail of every Seeker, Holder, or other being that ever came into contact with it. As you read a Book, you’ll find yourself drawn in to the story so much that the trials of each Seeker will become yours; their madness, their fear, their greed, and, more importantly, their injuries. Don’t dwell too long on the wrong Book. Find the right Book, and read it. If you survive, the old man will vanish, and you will become acutely aware of every board, nail, wall, nook, and cranny of the chateau, every contour of every chair, shelf, and book in the library, and every word of every Book. If this doesn’t shatter your fragile sanity, then congratulations: You are now the Holder of the Seal.

They are sealed, but Hell is coming to set them free. Keep the Books shelved for as long as you wish to stay Their hand.

…If, on the other hand, you wish to claim this Object for yourself, and damn the rest of eternity by doing so, then simply take the Book and leave. Just don’t take the wrong one; no Holder or Seeker that is or ever was in existence will be pleased to have their every secret laid bare in your hands, and you’d be surprised just how many would go out of their way to remove them. Hands and secrets, that is. Again, though, everything is in the Language, and you run the risk of getting lost in any Book you open to check. If you manage to find the proper Book before the Holder weakens and the legions of the damned crash through the wide window to exact their punishment, then flee out the front door. If you’ve found the right Book, you’ll find yourself outside the mental institution you started at, as if you’d just burst out the front doors.

As long as you possess that Book, no Object can harm you. As long as you possess that Book, They cannot be stopped, for there will always be one Book missing from the shelves.

That Book is Object 143 of 538.

144. Holder of the Cost

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Ask at the front desk to see someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Cost.” The worker will sigh, sounding as though the weight of countless eons bore down on their shoulders and wearily exit from behind the counter, and trudge towards the interior of the building. Follow them.

They’ll make many turns and take you down many hallways, more than should fit in a single building, before stopping and opening a door for you. Inside will be a rotting wooden staircase down through a moist, earthen tunnel. Begin your descent; the worker will shut the door behind you, leaving you in total darkness. Even if you have a flashlight, you probably don’t want to turn it on. Keep your hands off the walls, and walk. With every step you descend, you will feel a weight on your shoulders. The weight should very quickly become a crushing burden, and it’s a long way down.

If you reach the bottom without being suffocated by the burden, you’ll find that the stairs lead to an underground rotunda, a circular room with a domed ceiling. Here, too, the walls and floor will be made of dirt, dripping occasionally. That’s not water, by the way.

The ceiling will have a small round hole in it, through which sunlight will stream down upon an ancient man sitting in a luxurious red fur chair in front of a wrought-iron table. In his hand, he clutches a plain stainless-steel kitchen knife. Even if he’s awake, he’ll be too weak to offer any resistance as you take it from his scarred hands and slit his throat.

You may feel a stinging sensation across your own throat as you do so; take a look in the full-length mirror across from where the man died, and you may notice a thin cut along your throat healing over, if you’re fast enough. Steady yourself against the frame as a wave of dizziness washes over you.

If the old man had been awake, you could have asked him, “What will it cost to stop Them?” And he would have told you just what you were getting into. The cost is high, though, so very high and so horrible to contemplate that you almost certainly would have lost your mind and ended your journey on the damp floor in front of him. Even if you hadn’t, you certainly would not have taken the knife, having known. When the dizziness passes, remove the mirror from the wall and ascend the staircase behind it.

That knife is Object 144 of 538. It will cut anything, but with every use, you will feel its bite.

145. Holder of the Harvest

In any city, in any country, go to any morgue you can get yourself into. Walk up to the front desk and ask if you can visit someone who calls himself the “Holder of the Harvest.”

The worker’s expression should turn to a cold, impassive one, an expression so chilling you’d be sure you were looking at a corpse. You will be transfixed by his eyes, unable to look away while millennia-old messages of death and despair burn themselves into your mind. At this point, you must not under any circumstances break eye contact with the worker, for if you do, you risk becoming part of this message of the damned.

This ordeal will last for what seems like centuries, but as these images drill into your mind, you must keep alert; if you are sharp enough to keep your wits, you will notice that while the worker’s eyes are sternly riveted to yours, his soul will stand up and leave his body. Breaking eye contact while this happens will grant you eternal damnation – to safely break the infernal bond between your eyes and those of his body, you must muster your courage and strength to shout out, “It’s not yet my turn!”

Should the visions and images continue, you will soon join them, as your body experiences excruciating pain, your mind finally giving way to the madness that you’ve felt for so long.

If the visions stop, however, then look for the worker’s specter and follow him. The ghost should pass through a wall; follow him and you, too, will pass through that wall. The area beyond will be similar to a museum exhibition, but these exhibits are ghastly figures – displays of war and disease, moving images of murders and rapes, mothers wailing over their dead sons, fathers mutilating themselves over their raped and murdered daughters. These figures of unrelenting horrors line the walls, ceilings and the floor. Make sure you are directly behind the ghost – if you stray from his path, you will become part of the exhibits for all eternity.

Soon, the ghost will again pass through a door. This time, you must not follow as you did before. There is no turning back now. On this door is a relief of a little girl, peacefully kneeling down as if in prayer, your first image of peace amidst this museum of death. (Say hello to your new dwelling, should you see any other relief other than the one described.) If the relief you see is the little girl, steel yourself and open the door.

You will find yourself in a wheat field. In the middle will be a black-robed figure gracefully dancing. Upon closer inspection, you see that he is actually holding a huge scythe, slashing it about and cutting off stalks of wheat as he goes along. The figure wields it with skill attainable only with centuries, if not millennia, of practice. Every slashed stalk of wheat secretes a liquid …fresh blood. Listen closely enough, and you will hear cries of unspeakable pain coming from the severed stalks.

When he turns to your direction, he will be surprised to see a living entity in his world. Before he decides to add you to his ever growing collection of souls, you must ask one and only one question: “Where are the workers in this field?” After you ask this, he will again start dancing while laughing wildly, and he will narrate a story that predates the earth itself: the story of how death came to be. Many go mad at this information, as death was not the simple phenomenon one might think. He will then tell you a secret that only the ancients know: the truth about death.

If you did not go mad after all of this, the robed creature will stop dancing, strike his huge scythe down on the ground, and say, “I know what to do with you in time.” Give a respectful nod and close your eyes. You will then feel a burning feeling in your chest, as if you were being stabbed. Do not open your eyes, as this is your final test. The pain will start spreading throughout your entire body, you will feel as if you’re at the brink of death, you will hear crying around you, and it will irritate you and you will want to stop it. You can give in to the pain if you want to, but if you are resilient, you will see yourself in the wheat field with the robed creature’s scythe jutting out of the ground. Take it and start hacking away at everything you see, and do not stop until the pain in your body goes away.

When you are finished, you will realize that the stalks of wheat that you cut down in your frenzied state were actually every person you have ever loved. Feel no remorse, nothing whatsoever, for if you do, the robed creature will mow you down without hesitation. Find the head of the person you love most, and strike it with the scythe you wield. You will be overcome by the darkness coming out of the point of impact.

When you wake up, you’ll be at your local cemetery, and a funeral will be taking place nearby. Beside you will be the scythe wielded by the robed creature. Take it.

That scythe is Object 145 of 538.

146. Holder of the Sun

In any city, in any country, go to any hotel or condominium building you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Sun”. The front desk’s phone should immediately ring, prompting the worker to ask you to wait a moment.

While the worker answers the phone, go to the nearest beverage-vending machine you can find and, without inserting any money, press the button for the first drink listed. No matter what drink is displayed, the can that comes out will be of plain, unmarked metal and will be hot to the touch. Open the can and drink as much of the searing liquid as you can before the worker hangs up the phone. If you drink enough in time, then you will immediately lose consciousness.

When you awaken, you will find yourself on a couch in a magnificent room. The ceiling is far, far above your head, and the massive windows not only wash the entire place in golden sunlight, but also allow a view of the city in which you started – many dozens of miles below you.

Seated on a chair not far from you will be a man who exudes healthy youthfulness. He will have just hung up his phone and will be eying you with a mixture of confusion and amusement, for you have rather suddenly appeared on his couch.

Sit upright and calmly tell the man your name and age, then proceed to tell him as much about yourself as you can think without making any direct mention of Objects or, more importantly, the other Holders. He particularly does not wish to hear about the other Holders. If, at any time during your speaking, the man lifts his phone to his ear , then your journey has come to an end.

If, however, the young man politely gestures for you to stop, then pause for a moment and wait for him to ask you why you have come to his room. When he again gestures for your response, ask, “Who kept them in place when they were together?”

The young man will proceed to weep softly at the question. There is no point in trying to console him; instead, stand up and walk to the only door in the room. When you are within arm’s length of the door, the man will call your name. Turn to face him, and you will see that he is floating several feet above the floor and emitting a bright light that drowns out even the sunlight. Do not turn away from this light, and do not blink, even as you feel your eyes dry out and burn away. When your vision has been completely ruined, you will once again fade out of consciousness.

Upon awakening, you will find yourself in a hospital or medical clinic, your vision completely undamaged. The medical staff will be confused as to your presence, but ignore them and leave. Upon leaving, search your pockets to find something you did not have before.

The cuff links are Object 146 of 538.

147. The Holder of the Ego

In any city, in any country, go to any barn or farmhouse you can get yourself to. When you walk in, whether or not anyone is there, ask to see someone who calls himself “The Holder of the Ego.” The room will become immediately filled with water that is both clear and opaque white at the same time. You will find that you can still breathe while submerged in it. You will feel your consciousness slip away and at once will see nothing and everything, and you will know that this is what death feels like.

An eternity will pass.

You will find yourself standing in the same farmhouse, with a lit cigarette suspended in mid-air. Take it and inhale deeply – the smoke will bring the worst pain you’ve ever felt into your lungs, but don’t exhale or the smoke will hardly be the only thing expelled. Only after you hear a bell, you may exhale. The smoke will take the form of yourself – only ethereally at first, but gradually developing bones, then organs, then muscle. Its skinless face will shout at you: “Who wants to know?” Say nothing. Don’t even blink. He will shout the same question at you in a louder voice than you’ve ever heard. Say nothing. The voice will shout at you with a force that could shake the foundations of the greatest buildings in all the world. Should you go without moving until this point, you may reply “I want to know.” If you have moved, you’d already be experiencing an eternal darkness.

Your doppelganger will take off like a man possessed, dashing through mazes of walls and fencing that seem to sprout up around him. If you take the time to look at any of these walls, he will be long gone and you’ll be left to wander the maze forever.

When you reach the end of the maze, you will see expanded before you all your memories and experiences. These will stay with you for the rest of your life, and you’ll be able to recall with perfect clarity anything that’s ever happened to you. You’ll suddenly remember a needle that’s been in your jacket pocket for who knows how long.

This needle is Object 147 of 538. Reality itself is pierced by it.

148. The Holder of History

In any city, in any country, go to any museum you can get yourself into. Approach the curator, and ask to see the “Holder of History.” A look of terror will come over his face, he will remove his glasses and press them into your hands… his eyes now appear completely white, devoid of iris or pupil. The glasses have no lenses. Put them on, and speak the word “When?” The Curator will lead you to a trapdoor behind a map of the museum, and, covering his blind eyes, will open the door for you. Climb in.

Do not remove the glasses. If you do, the nightmarish world beyond ours is all you will see for eternity. Your mind will not survive.

Walk along the stone pathway before you. It may stretch on for miles, the journey may take days, but you must keep walking. Don’t ever stop or turn around. Eventually you will hear children’s voices, hundreds of them, as if all the children of earth were speaking to you at once. The voices will scream wishes, regrets and sorrows. Still, you must push on. If, in the darkness, you feel two small hands grasping your head, stand completely still and say “I know why. But I seek when.” If the spirit is merciful, the hands will be released and you can walk onwards.

You will know you have reached your destination when the passage reaches a dead end. Slowly turn around. Every single child that has ever died will fill the passage you have just walked. Their bodies are naked, their eyes milky white and shining. Hopefully, one of them will say: “So you seek when?” Confidently reply “Yes.”

The crowd will part, and a young girl, different from the others, will approach you. Clothed in a blue dress, with eyes as black as oblivion itself. She will hand you a notebook. It is also blue, but with an indecipherable language on the front cover. Blink, and you will find yourself outside the museum.

The notebook contains information on everything that has ever occurred in the history of mankind.

The Notebook is Object 148 of 538.

149. Holder of Nightmares

In any city, in any country, go to any phone-box you can get yourself to. Make sure that you do this about fifteen or twenty minutes past midnight, and that nobody is accompanying you or watching you. Enter the phone-box, close the door, pick up the receiver, and touch nothing else. Hold the receiver to your ear and whisper, “I wish to meet the Holder of Nightmares.” After a minute, if no voice has replied, leave the phone-box as fast as you can. Do not question why.

If you hear a man’s voice reply in a language you do not recognize, then you have succeeded. Close your eyes and do not move. You should feel a sort of pressure close over you, and then the sudden sensation of falling. Should you open your eyes while experiencing this, you will find yourself lying outside of the phone-box, with your arms mangled and their flesh torn apart.

If you manage to keep your eyes closed, you will feel yourself land softly onto what feels like a chair. Feel free to open your eyes. When you do, you shall see that you are in a small room, filled with a thick smoke that goes up to your waist. In front of you is a four-poster bed, upon which an item will lie. The item will be different for everyone that enters this room. What ever it is, pick it up, and hold it tightly in the hand you use to write with.

Get into the bed and sleep — an easy task, as the fog will make you feel tired when inhaled. As you lie in this bed, you will dream of unspeakable horrors, which will become more twisted and grotesque as they progress. As long as you keep the item in your writing hand, you shall be protected. But if, as you dream, you feel some sort of force prying the item from your hand, say loudly, “I mean no harm; I only wish to meet the Holder of Nightmares.” The horrors of your dreams are nothing compared to what you will face should the item leave your hand.

Your final dream in that bed will be near-lifelike. You will be standing in front of the person you love most. Do not look into their eyes. Do not hesitate for too long, or your quest shall end here, and you shall be stuck watching nightmares for the rest of your existence. Take the item you picked up from the bed, and beat the person to death with it – at this point, it will have turned into a metal pipe or a wrench.

When the bloodied body at your feet stops moving, close your eyes for a few seconds, and then open them again. The person you just killed will appear as an old man, his grey hair and beard matted with blood, his skull fractured and broken. This is the Holder of Nightmares. Keep your weapon in your writing hand, and push your other hand onto his heart.

You will find yourself standing in the phone-box, with its receiver ripped off the cord and held in your hand, in place of your weapon. Walk away from the phone-box and watch, if you want, as it destroys itself. The glass will break, the coin box will crumple, and the phone-less cord will whip itself through the air.

The phone in your hand is Object 149 of 538.

150. The Holder of Numbness

In any city, in any country, go to any military base you can get yourself to. Tell one of the officers that you wish to see the “Holder of Numbness”. The officer will respond with a salute, and lead you to a short hallway, whose sole door is covered in inscriptions.

As you approach the door, you will feel a natural urge to flee. If you succumb to it, you will spend the rest of your life tormented by the thought of what might lie behind the door. However, if you stand your ground, you will be left to decipher the runes covering the door; they are a password. If you are meant to take this Holder’s object, the password will come to mind after examining the runes; say it aloud.

If the password is correct, the door will slowly open. Beyond it is a small room, with human flesh covering every surface. Carved into that flesh are more runes. A man with filthy, floor-length hair, covered in what appears to be fleshy camouflage, will be sitting in the middle of the room, carving into the floor with what appears to be a military utility knife. As soon as you step into the room, he will turn his attention to you, revealing a pair of orange eyes and a hideously scarred face. You will feel an intense sorrow, followed by dread. Ask him one question: “How did it happen?”

The Holder of Numbness will grin maniacally and hand you his knife. With an otherworldly voice, he shall then utter a single word from an unknown language. That word conveys a image, a message of horrors beyond human understanding. It shatters all mental barriers, driving most who hear it into madness and suicide. If you manage to withstand it, return the Holder’s knife. He will then proceed to hand you a holster before resuming his work.

Said holster contains a handgun covered in intricate runic designs. Its stopping power is unmatched. If you choose to fire that gun, you will feel a numbness spread from your hand to your entire body. This sensation will never leave you, and will eventually cover your mind and soul.

That object is 150 of 538.