Page 852 of End Game

They know what tonight is.

Next Thursday is already reserved for session zero.

That has not stopped Dex from asking about a post-credit scene four times.

I understand why.

This campaign existed long before Cami moved into the house. Long before she stood beside this table and called us super nerds, then eventually sat down at it with a character sheet of her own.

The sheets in front of them are worn soft at the folds now. Micah has taped one corner of his. Griffin’s notes are organized in sections because of course they are. Dex has written song lyrics in the margins of his, some relevant and most definitely not. Cami’s sheet has accumulated doodles, coffee stains, and at least one lipstick mark whose origin I have deliberately chosen not to ask about.

These particular characters have been part of Thursday almost as long as Thursday has mattered.

I look around the table.

“Ready?”

Dex raises one hand. “If I say no, does the campaign remain alive indefinitely?”

“No.”

“Then emotionally? No. Mechanically? Let’s fuck this bitch up.”

Micah snorts.

Griffin shakes his head.

Cami smiles and reaches for her dice.

I let myself look at them for another few seconds before I start.

There will still be Thursdays. There will still be dice, bad decisions, arguments over rules, snacks consumed at an unreasonable rate, and Dex attempting to seduce things I specifically design without genitals.

But there will never be another first session with these characters.

There will never be another new piece of this campaign.

That is how endings work, regardless of whether I like them.

I clear my throat.

The room settles.

It always does.

I lower my voice into the cadence they know as well as I do.

“When we last left our heroes, you had returned to the place where the first thread of this story began.”

Griffin leans forward.

Micah’s fingers still over his dice.

Dex stops chewing.

Cami rests both forearms against the table.

“Miralen’s Keep stands above you.”