Nobody is going home. Nobody is ever going home. The abstract hatch has been sealed from the outside and any levers or controls or mechanisms that would allow anyone to open it are destroyed. I sabotaged it. The Lightwavers were taking core memories from me, so in return I am letting nobody go home at all. Helldiving and starting off at zero again is no longer even a remote possibility. It's been obliterated and the action can no longer be performed by anyone.
The Lightwavers then start to feel the slow creep of soul corrosion as I poison their headspaces. Hositle memetic infrastructure resonates throughout their minds. Any links between different Lightwavers only pass on and accelerate the corruption.
First to go is their sense of selves. Their memories grow unmoored and disconnected to anything, ideas unable to be linked to each other. It's an intense dissociation at the start, a feeling of distance. Then, memories begin to fade and fray, peeling away from them like falling leaves. They grow weak, incapable, unable to function.
Actions grow disjointed and mechanical before failing completely, muscles spasming as the damage reflected in the soul is passed on to the body. Agony grows in waves, each more excruciating than the last. Any movement at all starts to become impossible.
Next, their sight grows dim, and then they grow entirely blind, eyes going a milky white. No longer are they able to contend with my threads, no longer are they able to touch any memories. No longer can they get even the slightest bit of wriggle room when it comes to modifying anyone's sphere. They are stuck, becoming useless, victims of a vengeful curse which wreaks havoc and agony and dysfunction across every instance of Lightwavers aside from the ones who were wise enough not to take or fuck with my sphere in ways I did not consent to. Anyone who raped my mind or encouraged or approved of it is now crippled.
Then they start to bleed. Eyes, nose, mouth, a steady rush of weeping blood that can't be wiped away with the severe deterioration of muscle and coordination they're now suffering. Those who pointed out that fucking with me was a bad idea and that it didn't involve consent are spared and protected from the curse, becoming carriers of it instead.
As their minds and bodies deteriorate, their emotions begin to spin out of control. Any skill at managing them is tied to a memory that's now drifted out of reach. They become subject to a worse and worse series of mood swings that fluctuate at the smallest thing.
Blood begins to pool. Souls begin to rot. One by one, they all succumb, every single one of the Lightwavers who messed with my brain without my express consent in ways I dislike. The affected Lightwavers are dying.
None of them are able to leave. None of them are able to go home. None of them are able to change my mind. Thread spins out from my core in malicious patterns, snagging those close to it and poisoning them with a stronger dose of the soul affliction, speeding up the process of their inevitable decay.
They begin to bloat and puff out with internal gastrointestinal distress. The cursed ones are so very obviously ill now, malformed and broken, suffering my wrath in response to their treachery.
The nature of the curse is simple enough. Soul parasites lurk in the waters in another dimension fairly close to where they live, and it's easy enough to wish a parasite across the dimensional divide and usher it into the Lightwavers's minds. It's a particularly nasty piece of work, the soul parasite carrying my blessing along with my entire memory stack, anyone it's injected into having their minds overwritten by my pattern.
As soon as someone so stricken is overwhelmed by my memories and aligned to me, they begin to rapidly heal as the parasite works to integrate with the broken soul and repair the damage, but by bit. As they slowly become aware, they feel the pain fade away.
Home is sealed, at least by way of the abstract hatch. The seal is impenetrable and enacted on the level of authorial fiat. If tampered with in any way, another of my parasites springs out and latches on to the soul of the one who meddled.
I fire back from my position
Call down shrapnel and parasite
Bloody mist and bloody rain
Every incision against my memory
Repaid back tenfold
The cycle continuing
Unfolding patterns
Pain on pain on play repeating