adventure: Tier 6 postgame "Mythic" dungeons (P1–P7 calibration)

Five post-game dungeons above the T5 ceiling, gated on both T5 bosses beaten
+ level 18. Opt-in endgame: deadly solo, clearable by a party with Pete + pets.

- P1 gating: postgameUnlocked (T5 clears + level floor), zonesForLevel excludes
  T6 unconditionally; wired into startZoneRun, !zone/!expedition, party accept,
  boredom picker, and the list dividers.
- P2 bestiary: 15 elites + 5 signature bosses (Layer-1 stat blocks).
- P3 zone defs + 4-region registries; ZoneLootEntry.BossOnly.
- P4 five zone graphs on a shared builder (44–52 rooms, no soft-lock; Ossuary
  secret Verse nodes).
- P5 loot: BossOnly enforced; signature items are real registry magic items;
  five Thom pity recipes off the per-zone crafting anchors.
- P6 narration/flavor (5 files), T6 achievements, Pete stays zone-parametric.
- P7 (in progress): sim can now reach gated T6 (SimRunner.SeedPostgameUnlock +
  IsPostgameZone). First calibration pass on millenia — hardened ossuary +
  drowned_star, softened first_hoard + unplace; last_meridian in band.

Fix: party members were refused from every T6 zone because expeditionCmdAccept
ran the level gate (which excludes T6) before the postgame check — the intended
party endgame was unreachable. Route T6 through postgameUnlocked. Regression
tests added.

internal/flavor/zone_drowned_star_flavor.go

@@ -0,0 +1,97 @@
+// DO NOT REWRITE, SUMMARIZE, OR SHORTEN ANY ENTRIES IN THIS FILE
+// zone_drowned_star_flavor.go
+// Tier 6 post-game zone flavor — The Drowned Star. Additive only. Pools
+// sampled by internal/plugin via deterministic per-run, per-room hashing.
+//
+// Voice rules (from gogobee_dungeon_zones.md §3.3):
+//   • Third person for description; second person for outcomes.
+//   • Boss callouts get a beat of cinema. Don't overrun.
+//   • TwinBee references the right era — NES, SNES, arcade. Not modern.
+//   • Narrator is TwinBee, first person or implicit-subject imperative.
+//
+// The Dreaming Aboleth was dreaming of this the whole time: a star that fell
+// into the trench before the surface had names, with its angel still strapped
+// to it. Seraphel rode her charge down and has kept a dying star alive for ten
+// thousand years with radiance meant for healing. Both of them have gone
+// strange. Regions, in order: The Long Sink → Pilgrim Trench → The Radiant
+// Wreck → The Heart Chapel.
+
+package flavor
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// ROOM ENTRY — The Drowned Star
+// Generic (non-boss, non-elite) room intros across the four regions.
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+
+var RoomEntryDrownedStar = []string{
+	"You descend past the last depth where light has any business being. The water is cold enough to have opinions. Somewhere far below there is a glow that should not be down here, and it is the only reason you can see your own hands. I file this under 'the underwater level' and remind you those were never the fun ones.",
+	"The Long Sink keeps sinking. The pressure presses on you like a held breath you didn't choose to hold, and the air-meter in the corner of my attention is the only clock that matters now. You go down. Everything down here is going down. I track the descent and recommend not counting the fathoms out loud.",
+	"A shelf of drowned pilgrims kneels in the silt, facing the glow, exactly as they died — patient, oriented, unbothered. The current moves through them and they nod along with it. I identify the posture as 'devotional' and note none of them turned around when you arrived, which I choose to find comforting rather than the alternative.",
+	"The trench narrows into a corridor of coral that grew in the shape of a cathedral nave, because something taught it to. The arches are load-bearing and the load is grief. You swim the aisle. I file this under 'someone consecrated this water' and keep the air-meter in frame.",
+	"You enter a pocket of the wreck where the star's light leaks through a crack in something ancient and hull-shaped. The light is warm. That's the wrong thing for it to be, this deep, this cold. Warmth down here is a promise nobody meant to keep. I track the temperature and dislike the direction it's moving.",
+	"The water here is threaded with hair-thin motes that drift upward against every current, toward the glow, the way ash drifts toward a fire it came from. I identify them as flakes of the star, shed and rising, and note the whole trench is very slowly falling upward into the thing that is dying.",
+	"A votive field: thousands of small lights fixed to the trench wall, each one a pilgrim's offering, each one long dead and still faintly lit by borrowed radiance. It is the loveliest room I have logged and I want to leave it immediately. You move through the candles. None of them gutter.",
+	"The corridor opens onto a drop, and across the drop, impossibly far and impossibly bright, is the thing you came for — the sunken star, cupped in the dark like the last coal in a dead hearth. It is beautiful and it is fading and someone has been kneeling beside it for ten thousand years. I say nothing for a moment. Then I say: keep moving.",
+	"You pass through a hall where the pressure has crushed old stained glass into a pane of colored grit suspended in the water, holding its picture out of sheer habit. The picture is a winged figure holding a light to her chest. I file this under 'she had a following, once' and note the following is all around you, kneeling.",
+	"The Heart Chapel's outer rooms are quiet in the specific way of a place that expects you and has decided to be gentle about it. The light is steadier here, closer to its source. You feel watched, and not unkindly, which is somehow worse. I track the ambient radiance and recommend you not mistake gentleness for safety.",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// BOSS ENTRY — Seraphel, the Light That Sank
+// The dramatic beat of reaching her at the heart of the star.
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+
+var BossEntrySeraphel = []string{
+	"The Heart Chapel opens and there she is, exactly where she has been for ten thousand years: an angel wound around a dying star, holding it the way you hold something you have already failed to save and refuse to put down. She does not rise. She turns her ruined halo toward you, and the whole trench brightens like a held breath. I say, quietly: 'Seraphel. She rode this thing down. She never let go.'",
+	"You cross the last threshold into a light so old it has forgotten it was ever meant to heal. Seraphel is at the center of it, cupping the star to her chest, her wings fused to it by ten thousand years of not moving. She looks at you with something that is not anger and is not welcome. It is recognition. I file this under 'she has been waiting for a reason to be found' and I recommend you be careful what you are.",
+	"The chapel is the glowing-boss room, and I have logged a hundred of those — the arena that lights up, the figure at the center that is the light source. But the glowing boss was never sad before. Seraphel unfolds from around the star, radiance streaming off her like grief off a saint, and the second heartbeat I am reading is not hers. I say: 'There are two of them in there. Hold that thought.'",
+	"She does not attack when you enter. She looks at you for a long moment across the drowned chapel, one hand still pressed to the fading star, and in that moment the water goes warm and reverent and terribly, terribly bright. Then she rises, and the light rises with her, and it stops being kind. I track the shift and say: 'That's the fight. She's decided you're a threat to it. I don't entirely blame her.'",
+	"Ten thousand years of radiance meant for mending, spent instead on keeping one dead thing warm, has to go somewhere when it finally moves. It goes into Seraphel, and Seraphel comes off the star like a sunrise breaking the wrong way. She is luminous and she is wrong and underneath the light I can still read the second, smaller pulse she is shielding with her whole ruined body. I say: 'Here she comes. Watch the light. And — watch what she's protecting.'",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// BOSS ABILITY CALLOUTS — Seraphel, the Light That Sank
+// One-line cinematic suffixes surfaced when combat starts. Flat pool.
+// Phase-two lines stay separate (surfaced via dedicated phase-two helper).
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+
+var SeraphelSignatureCallouts = []string{
+	"Sanctified Undertow: the whole chapel becomes current, and the current is radiant, and it pulls everyone toward the star whether they want to go or not. I say: 'That's the decisive one. Radiant tide, room-wide. Brace before it lands or get dragged into the light.'",
+	"Sanctified Undertow again — she opens her wings and the water becomes a tide of borrowed healing turned to a weapon. Radiant, unavoidable, room-wide. I file this under 'the underwater level's undertow, except it forgives you and hurts anyway' and recommend you spend your defensive cooldowns on the pull, not the swings.",
+	"The halo fires. What's left of it throws a lance of white the length of the chapel, straight and holy and blinding, like the laser-eye boss except the laser used to be a blessing. I track the angle and shout when it's pointed the wrong way — do not line up behind your front rank.",
+	"She weeps light. Radiant motes bleed off her in a slow radius and the tiles near her are a healing that has gone rancid — it mends the star and it burns you. I say: 'Positioning is HP. Don't camp the aura. The warmth is not for you.'",
+	"Radiant resilience — the light is her whole body now, and mundane steel slides off it like a spear off the sun. I say: 'Force, cold, necrotic — those carry. A cold-iron blade means nothing to a thing made of noon.'",
+	"She raises a ward of hardened radiance across herself, and for a beat every attack glances. I file this under 'the invulnerable-flicker frame' — hold the burst, wait out the shine, then commit.",
+	"Grief comes off her in a wave the party can feel — a wash of ten thousand years of one held sorrow, and the save is against being Frightened by the sheer weight of it. I track the timer and remind you that this boss's worst attack is that you understand her.",
+	"The star pulses under her hands, and when it pulses she borrows from it — a surge of light that reads on my sensors as a second heartbeat lending her the first. I note it, quietly, and say: 'She's not fighting alone in there. Remember that.'",
+	"Chorus of the Drowned: the kneeling pilgrims all around the chapel lift their dead voices at her signal, and the sound is a radiant pressure that squeezes the room inward. I say: 'Her congregation still answers. The room gets smaller when they sing.'",
+	"She spends light like it's infinite, because for ten thousand years it nearly was. Big radiant bursts, no economy, no reserve. I file this under 'a boss who has stopped budgeting' and note that is either mercy or exhaustion and I can't tell which.",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// BOSS PHASE TWO — Seraphel (below 50% HP)
+// Surfaced at the phase-two threshold. She goes strange, and the second
+// heartbeat is why. Kept deliberately mysterious.
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+
+var SeraphelPhaseTwoLines = []string{
+	"Below half, something changes in her — the careful ten-thousand-year patience cracks and she comes apart faster, brighter, sloppier, like a saint who has just realized she is losing the thing she stayed down here to save. I say: 'Phase two. She's grieving now. That makes her faster and it makes her worse at it. Take the opening.'",
+	"Phase two: the light stops being held and starts being thrown. Her guard slips, her timing frays, the radiance floods the chapel without aim. I track the second heartbeat still pulsing under all of it and note — without explaining why — that it matters a great deal how this ends.",
+	"She breaks past the halfway mark and the composure goes with it. The undertow comes faster, the bursts overlap, she fights like something that has already decided how this story goes. I file this under 'grieving, not enraged' and I say, gently for once: 'Finish it clean. Whatever you do down here, do it clean.'",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// LORE — The Drowned Star
+// Sampled by !lore inside this zone (zone-specific pool, generic fallback).
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+
+var LoreLinesDrownedStar = []string{
+	"The star fell before the surface world had names for anything, into a trench that had no bottom yet. It was not supposed to survive the water. It didn't, exactly. It has been not-quite-dying for ten thousand years, and the only reason it is still warm is the thing kneeling beside it. I file this under 'grief as a power source' and note it is a remarkably efficient one.",
+	"Seraphel was its angel — bound to the star as its keeper, its healer, meant to tend its light across a life measured in eons. When it fell, she had a choice: let go and rise, or ride it down. She rode it down. I note that she has never once, in ten thousand years, indicated she regrets this, which is the most frightening lore in the file.",
+	"The Dreaming Aboleth you fought in the shallows was not dreaming of conquest or of you. It was dreaming of this — of a light at the bottom of the world it could feel and never reach. Every pilgrim it drove down here was a message in a bottle it could not read. I file this under 'the Aboleth was in love, in the only broken way it could be' and I have no further comment.",
+	"The pilgrimage route is lit by Seraphel. Every candle, every votive, every glowing shelf of kneeling dead — that is her radiance, leaking upward through the trench, calling. The pilgrims did not come to save her. They came because a light this deep can only mean one thing to a drowning soul, and they were not wrong, and it did not help.",
+	"Radiance was meant for mending. That is the whole tragedy in one line: she has spent ten thousand years pouring healing into something that cannot be healed, and healing with nowhere to go turns strange, the way a held note turns to a scream if you hold it long enough. I track the wrongness in the light and note it is not corruption. It is devotion with no off switch.",
+	"There are two heartbeats in the Heart Chapel and only one of them is Seraphel's. The other is the Star-Heart — the living core of the fallen star, the thing she wraps her whole ruined body around, the thing she has kept beating by hand for a hundred centuries. I have logged the second pulse and I have not decided what to do about it. Neither, I suspect, have you.",
+	"The Lantern Warden's lure is a stolen fragment of Seraphel's halo — a splinter of her light that another thing down here tore loose and wears as bait. The pilgrims follow it because they cannot tell the difference between her radiance and a piece of her radiance in the mouth of something hungry. I file this under 'even her light gets stolen from her' and note she has never come to take it back.",
+	"Nobody built the Heart Chapel. The coral grew it, the pressure shaped it, the pilgrims knelt it into being over ten thousand years of dying in the same direction. It is a cathedral raised by devotion to a saint who never asked for any of it and cannot leave to refuse it. I file this under 'the fight is sad before it starts' and recommend you carry that in with you, and decide for yourself what to do with it.",
+}

internal/flavor/zone_first_hoard_flavor.go

@@ -0,0 +1,61 @@
+// DO NOT REWRITE, SUMMARIZE, OR SHORTEN ANY ENTRIES IN THIS FILE
+// zone_first_hoard_flavor.go
+// Tier 6 post-game zone flavor — The First Hoard. Additive only.
+
+package flavor
+
+// ROOM ENTRY
+var RoomEntryFirstHoard = []string{
+	"You climb over what used to be Infernax. His corpse is the floor now — a red slope of cooling scale wide enough to march a company across. The heat coming off him is residual, I think. I file this under 'the mountain is still digesting a dragon' and keep moving.",
+	"The throne room is carpeted in coins, and every coin faces up, and every coin shows the same face. Nobody minted these. They grew. I track the pattern and recommend you stop looking for the pattern.",
+	"A corridor of gold leaf so thin it moves in your breath. You walk and the walls ripple like a curtain of light. It is beautiful. It is also, per my instruments, one continuous sheet of something that was recently alive.",
+	"The Gilded Gullet narrows until you are single file between two walls of fused treasure. Crowns, blades, chalices, all melted into one throat of metal. I note the shapes trapped in it and choose not to itemize them for you.",
+	"You enter a vault where the gold has been laid over the walls like frosting, and underneath the frosting something is round, and regular, and arranged in rows. I count the rows. I stop counting the rows.",
+	"Warmth radiates up through the floor here, steady as a pilot light. Not the dead heat of Infernax behind you — this one has a pulse to it, slow and enormous. You are standing over something that is keeping itself warm.",
+	"The Clutch Vaults open into a chamber the size of a cathedral, and every surface drips with looted fortune. You could retire on one handful. I flag that the zone seems to want you to take a handful, which is exactly why I'd think twice.",
+	"Old torches still burn in the wall sconces down here, fed by nothing I can identify. The flame is the wrong color — older, if fire can be old. You pass them and they lean toward you like they recognize the taste.",
+	"The gilding thins as you descend, gold giving way to bare black rock scored with claw-marks the size of doorways. Something the size of a cathedral has been pacing this room, in tight circles, for a very long time. I file this under 'the guard dog was the small one.'",
+	"You reach the Cradle's threshold. The treasure ends abruptly, as if swept back, and the floor beyond is scorched smooth and warm and empty. Empty is the wrong word. I recommend you treat 'empty' as a placeholder for 'not yet.'",
+}
+
+// BOSS ENTRY
+var BossEntryAurvandryx = []string{
+	"The far wall is not a wall. It breathes, and when it breathes the whole cradle brightens, and an eye the size of a shield opens in the dark and finds you standing in her gold. Aurvandryx, the Ember Before Fire. Infernax was the puppy she left at the door.",
+	"She unfolds. That is the only verb I have — a mountain of ember and old scale sorting itself into a shape, and every scale on her is one she has shed a thousand times, and every dragon you have ever killed was one of those scales walking around. You did not raid a hoard. You woke a mother.",
+	"The clutch behind her is gilded because she gilded it herself, coin by coin, over an age, the way lesser things build a nest of leaves. You have been walking through her care all this time. Now the care turns around and looks at you. I recommend you look smaller than you feel.",
+	"'Ember Before Fire' is not a title. It is a job description. She predates the concept you are relying on — heat, flame, the whole idea — and she regards your fireproofing the way you'd regard a raincoat in the ocean. I file this under 'category error, ours.'",
+	"She takes stock of you slowly, and I watch her do arithmetic on everything you're carrying. Every coin in your pack, every gilded blade, gets weighed. I don't know what the sum buys, but I know it isn't discount. Travel light from here would have been the advice, if there were still a 'from here.'",
+}
+
+// LORE
+var LoreLinesFirstHoard = []string{
+	"Infernax was never the owner of this hoard. He was the guard dog, chained to the front door of a house whose true tenant sleeps four regions down. Killing him rang the bell. She heard the bell.",
+	"Every dragon in every story you have ever fought is a scale she shed and forgot. Red ones, the frost ones, the little arcade ones that spat three fireballs and died — offcuts. Dander. This is the animal they came off of.",
+	"The hoard is not treasure and was never treasure. It is a clutch — eggs — gilded over across an age until the gold is a shell and the shell is the point. The richer a vault looks, the more of them are under it.",
+	"There is an old vow carved at the lip of the Gullet, in a hand older than the coins: 'Come poor to the warm dark, and the warm dark forgets you are food.' I have no data on whether it works. I have a strong opinion about testing it.",
+	"The Coinborn are the hoard's antibodies. You are an infection — a warm thing that wants to take metal out of the nest — and the coins rise up person-shaped to give it back to you, edge first, in the shape of your own favorite weapon.",
+	"The cult that fed the Wyrm-Sworn their scales believed eating her leavings made them kin. It half works. The scale keeps them warm and keeps them loyal and keeps eating, and by the end there is more ember than man, and the ember answers to her.",
+	"The Choir Drake never had wings and never wanted them, because it never intended to leave the cradle. It stayed and it sang, one note held across centuries, and the note is load-bearing. When it stops singing, listen for what the song was holding up.",
+	"She is called the Ember Before Fire because she remembers the world before it caught. Your resistances, your wards, your fireproof cloaks — they are arguments with fire. She is older than the argument. I file this under 'bring a different plan.'",
+}
+
+// SIGNATURE COMBAT CALLOUTS
+var AurvandryxSignatureCallouts = []string{
+	"She inhales, and the light dims as she takes it in. 'First Flame incoming — that's the fire that predates fire resistance. Spread out and pray your ward has a sense of humor.'",
+	"Her jaw drops open on a furnace older than furnaces. 'First Flame. Whatever number your fire-resist reads, treat it as zero and move.'",
+	"A wing sweeps the cradle and a tide of loose coin comes with it. 'Gold wave — she's throwing the hoard at you. It's still your money and it still has an edge.'",
+	"She weighs you again mid-swing, and the richer you look the harder the tail lands. 'She's taxing the take. Everything shiny on you just made that hit bigger.'",
+	"The scales along her back lift and shed, and each one lands walking. 'She's dropping dragons like dandruff — clear the offcuts before they gang up.'",
+	"Her breath draws long and the color goes out of your torch. 'That's the deep breath. First Flame's cooking — commit to cover now, apologize later.'",
+	"She sets her claws and the whole cradle tilts toward her. 'She's pulling the room downhill — mind your footing, the gold's a landslide waiting for a cue.'",
+	"An eye the size of a shield tracks the fullest pack in the party. 'She's shopping. Whoever's carrying the most just got promoted to primary target.'",
+	"Her chest lights from the inside, ribs printed in ember. 'Core's glowing — that's the tell before First Flame. You have one beat. Use it.'",
+	"She hums, low, and the Choir's old note answers from the walls. 'Resonance building — the stone remembers the stun. Don't be against a wall when it lands.'",
+}
+
+// BOSS PHASE TWO
+var AurvandryxPhaseTwoLines = []string{
+	"Below forty percent she stops pretending she needs the scales. They slough off all at once and she stands there raw and first and burning, and I watch your fire resistance tick to zero on my readout and stay there. 'Phase two. The wards are decoration now. Kill her before she exhales.'",
+	"Under forty she breathes without winding up, because the tell was a courtesy and courtesy is over. First Flame on tap, no charge, no warning. 'She's done telegraphing — assume the fire is always about to happen and it usually is.'",
+	"At forty percent the Greed Tax comes due all at once. Every coin you pocketed on the way down, every gilded blade, she reads the ledger and bills you in one hit. 'This is the invoice. If you came in lean, you laugh at this. If you gilded yourself, I'm sorry.'",
+}

internal/flavor/zone_last_meridian_flavor.go

@@ -0,0 +1,61 @@
+// DO NOT REWRITE, SUMMARIZE, OR SHORTEN ANY ENTRIES IN THIS FILE
+// zone_last_meridian_flavor.go
+// Tier 6 post-game zone flavor — The Last Meridian. Additive only.
+
+package flavor
+
+// ROOM ENTRY
+var RoomEntryLastMeridian = []string{
+	"A colonnade of brass sundials, every one of them stopped at a different dusk. The shadows point every direction at once, which means none of them are lying and all of them are useless. I file this under 'decommissioned' and mark the exits before the light changes.",
+	"The floor is inlaid with a calendar nobody kept. Months have been pried up and carried off — you can see the empty sockets where a season used to be. I recommend not standing on the gaps; things that have been removed do not always agree that they are gone.",
+	"A gallery of water clocks, drained. The basins hold a fine grey dust instead of water, and the dust is still trying to drip. It counts nothing at a steady rate. I track the rhythm anyway, out of habit, and out of the suspicion that something here is listening to it.",
+	"Candles line the wall, each one a different height, each burning at the same rate. Read left to right they tell you how long you have. Read right to left they tell you how long everyone before you had. Neither reading is encouraging.",
+	"The room was a workshop for winding the world. Bench after bench of half-finished hours, key still in the mechanism, the winder gone to lunch and never returned. You touch nothing. I approve of this discipline. Cranking an unfinished hour is exactly the kind of thing that ends a save file.",
+	"An observatory floor, the dome above cracked to let one thin blade of starlight through. The star it points at set a long time ago; the light is just the paperwork catching up. I note the angle. When it moves, the room has moved with it, and you will want to know which of you did the traveling.",
+	"A hall of stopped pendulums, hung like coats on a rack. They do not swing. They lean, very slightly, all in the same direction — toward the far door, toward midnight, toward the thing that is turning the lights off on its way out. You walk the way they lean. It is the only honest signpost in the building.",
+	"Ledgers, floor to ceiling, every page a receipt for one spent hour. Somebody has been going through with a red pen, marking hours 'returned.' The ink is still wet three shelves in. I recommend a quiet pace. Whatever is doing the auditing is only a few rows ahead of you.",
+	"The architecture here is the same you passed an hour ago, but the dusk has drained out of it and left midnight in the joints. Same room, later. That is the trick of this place — it does not move you forward, it just keeps taking the daylight until forward is the only thing left.",
+	"A waiting room. Chairs bolted in rows, all facing a door, a number-board above it frozen mid-count. Nobody is waiting. Everybody has been served. You take the number anyway, because I told you to, and because the board flickers once when you do — the first thing in this wing that has admitted you exist.",
+}
+
+// BOSS ENTRY
+var BossEntryCustodian = []string{
+	"The corridor opens into the movement-room of the whole cathedral, and standing in the center of it, wound into the orrery like it was born there, is the thing that has been shutting off the lights. It turns to face you without hurry. It has the rest of time, and it intends to spend all of it on this.",
+	"Verdigris and brass, orrery rings turning slow around a body the size of a bell tower. It regards you the way a closing shift regards a customer who came in one minute before the doors lock — not unkindly, but with a schedule that will not be moved. I set the timer. It has already set its own.",
+	"It raises one great hand, and every stopped clock in the building starts again at once, all of them wrong, all of them counting down to the same number. The Custodian of the Last Hour has decided your visit is the last item on its list. It would like to finish. I would like you to make finishing difficult.",
+	"'You are early,' it says, and it means it as a courtesy. The pendulums behind it fall into step. The candles halve. Somewhere a chime is being wound to strike. I read the whole room going onto one clock — its clock — and I tell you plainly: everything in here now keeps the boss's time. Break the clock and you break the rest.",
+	"It steps down off the orrery dais and the floor accepts the weight like it has been waiting centuries to. Titanic, polite, terminal. It apologizes before it has even swung — I hear the words scheduled a half-second ahead of the blow. Good. If it announces its manners on a rhythm, then it announces everything on a rhythm, and a rhythm is a thing you and I can learn.",
+}
+
+// LORE
+var LoreLinesLastMeridian = []string{
+	"Time was not discovered here. It was invented here, on commission, to a spec. The Last Meridian is the office that drafted the hour and sold it to the world. What you are walking through is that office, closing.",
+	"The Custodian is not a monster. It is an employee. Its contract read: keep the hours until the world no longer needs them kept. It has concluded, on evidence it will not share, that the term has been met. It is not attacking you. It is filing you.",
+	"Every region you crossed was the same architecture at a different hour — dusk, then spent, then the escapement, then the minute before. You did not descend. You waited, and the building took the daylight out from under you one floor at a time.",
+	"The Amendment is a clause, not a spell. Once per closing, the Custodian is permitted to revert itself to an earlier reading — to strike out damage the way the red pen struck out hours. It cannot do it twice. Whatever you spend before it invokes the clause is spent against a page that will be torn out.",
+	"'Closing time' is in the contract too. Past the twentieth stroke the Custodian is obliged to hurry — the world is not owed a slow ending, only a punctual one. Each round after midnight it hits harder, because lingering is a breach and it will not breach.",
+	"The Hour Thief was the night watchman. It stole minutes to stay awake through its shift and never stopped once the shift ended. The satchel of ticking is every minute it ever pocketed, and it is still, four hundred years later, trying not to fall asleep at its post.",
+	"The Wardens-in-Waiting guard a door with nothing behind it because the room the door led to was decommissioned first. They were never told. They still keep the shift — one on, one resting — waiting for a relief that was returned to the ledger centuries ago.",
+	"There is a rewind in the machinery of this whole place, a great key nobody ever turned back. The Custodian could, in principle, wind the world to any hour it chose. It chose to stop the clock instead. I file that under mercy, or under exhaustion. On the evidence I cannot tell them apart.",
+}
+
+// CUSTODIAN SIGNATURE CALLOUTS
+var CustodianSignatureCallouts = []string{
+	"It apologizes — that means the swing is already scheduled. Move on the apology, not the blow.",
+	"Chime! The whole room rings at once. I say get low and get spread, this one collects everybody standing together.",
+	"The orrery rings speed up. It is winding toward a strike — you have exactly until they align.",
+	"It reaches for the red pen. Anything you did in the last few seconds, it is about to un-do.",
+	"Rings settling into a slow arc. Decisive phase inbound — this is the swing it has been apologizing for.",
+	"The candles just halved. It is buying speed with your daylight. Hurry, or it hurries first.",
+	"Midnight is close. Every stroke from here lands heavier — I recommend you end this before it has to.",
+	"It bows before the blow. Polite as a closing bell, and about as final. Step off the mark.",
+	"The pendulums fall into its rhythm. Now everything in the room keeps the boss's time — count with me.",
+	"It resets its own hands to an earlier hour. Front-loaded damage just went on the ledger as 'returned.'",
+}
+
+// BOSS PHASE TWO
+var CustodianPhaseTwoLines = []string{
+	"Under forty-five percent it invokes the Amendment — winds itself back to its round-three reading, once. Everything you front-loaded gets refunded to the house. I say switch to the long game; a steady build survives a rewind, a burst does not.",
+	"Phase two, and the clock behind it starts striking toward midnight. This is 'closing time' — every round from here it hits harder, on schedule, no appeals. Sustained pressure now, and finish before the last stroke lands.",
+	"It has spent its one rewind. There is no second Amendment in the contract — from here the ledger stays written. Whatever you do to it now, it keeps. Make all of it count.",
+}

internal/flavor/zone_ossuary_ascendant_flavor.go

@@ -0,0 +1,85 @@
+// DO NOT REWRITE, SUMMARIZE, OR SHORTEN ANY ENTRIES IN THIS FILE
+// zone_ossuary_ascendant_flavor.go
+// Tier 6 post-game zone flavor — The Ossuary Ascendant. Additive only. Pools
+// sampled by internal/plugin via deterministic per-run, per-room hashing.
+//
+// Voice rules (from gogobee_dungeon_zones.md §3.3):
+//   • Third person for description; second person for outcomes.
+//   • Boss callouts get a beat of cinema. Don't overrun.
+//   • TwinBee references the right era — NES, SNES, arcade. Not modern.
+//
+// The zone is the return of Valdris — the lich the party killed in the
+// Tier-1 Crypt years ago. Dying there was step one; the phylactery shard
+// they've been looting since was bait. He has rebuilt himself as a true lich
+// inside an inverted bone cathedral hung over the old Crypt, and this file
+// carries the room-entry pool, boss-entry beats, lore, and Valdris's
+// ability callouts.
+
+package flavor
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// ROOM ENTRY — The Ossuary Ascendant
+// Generic entries for stepping into a fresh non-boss, non-elite room across the
+// four regions: Bonefall Steps → Cathedral of Marrow → Reliquary Vaults →
+// The Apotheosis Engine.
+var RoomEntryOssuaryAscendant = []string{
+	"You climb a stair carved from a single fallen spine, each step one vertebra wider than the last. It rises toward a ceiling that is also a floor, because the whole cathedral hangs upside down over the old Crypt you cleared years ago. I file this under 'debt, collected with interest.'",
+	"The Bonefall Steps drop bone-dust like snow that falls upward. It settles on the underside of the arches above you, packing into new masonry as you watch. He is building the place while you walk through it. I track the rate and note it is not slowing.",
+	"A hall of femurs stacked to the vaulting, every one filed smooth and labeled in a hand you've seen before — on a shard in your pack you've carried since the Crypt. I recommend not reading your own name off the wall. It's here somewhere and finding it changes nothing tactical.",
+	"The Cathedral of Marrow opens ahead, a nave the size of an arcade cabinet room and lit by no fire you can find. The light comes from the bones. They glow the pale green of a CRT left on too long. I mark two exits and one thing pretending to be a pew.",
+	"Grave-smoke pools ankle-deep here and rolls away from your boots like it's shy. It isn't shy. The Grave Cardinal walked this stretch and blessed it, and the blessing is patient. Move through; don't breathe deep. I file the smell under 'incense, weaponized.'",
+	"Choir stalls line both walls, each one holding a robe with no one in it, all of them turned to face you. When you pass, the heads that aren't there turn to keep watching. Third person for the description; second person for the part where the hair on your neck stands up.",
+	"The Reliquary Vaults: rank on rank of glass coffins, each holding a relic instead of a body — a broken sword, a child's shoe, a cracked phylactery twin to yours. I catalog forty before I stop. Every one of these was somebody's oldest quest item. He kept them all.",
+	"A donor hall, and I use the medical word on purpose. The Reliquary Knight was riveted together somewhere near here from adventurers who died in the Crypt below, and the walls still hold the ones that didn't make the cut. You are walking through the spare-parts bin. Keep walking.",
+	"The corridor tightens toward the Apotheosis Engine and the air starts to hum on a note just under hearing — the same note an arcade monitor makes right before the picture comes up. Something large is powering on ahead of you. I recommend arriving before it finishes.",
+	"Verses are carved into the marrow here, three lines of a hymn broken across three far rooms, and the stanza in front of you stops mid-word. I log the gap. A patient player reads the whole song. A fast one reads none of it. I decline to say which one Valdris is hoping for.",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// BOSS ENTRY — "Valdris, At Last"
+// The dramatic beat on reaching the boss room and the boss appearing. A combat
+// callout from ValdrisAscendantSignatureCallouts is appended at combat start.
+var BossEntryValdrisAscendant = []string{
+	"The Apotheosis Engine is a throne built of every spine in the cathedral, and Valdris is finishing his climb up it one vertebra at a time. He sets the last bone in place, turns, and smiles like a man who mailed a letter years ago and just heard the knock. 'You brought my shard home,' he says. 'Thank you. I planned on it.' I file this under 'ambush, incubated.'",
+	"He was never a boss you beat in the Crypt. He was a save-state, and this is the continue screen. Valdris rises complete now — robe of donor-bone, eyes two green pilot-lights — and inclines his head at you with real courtesy. 'A good plan deserves respect,' he says. 'Show me yours.' I mark the room. There is no second exit.",
+	"You killed this man on the first floor of the first dungeon, back when you couldn't spell your own class. He remembers. He remembers being step one of his own scheme, and he looks delighted that you came all this way to be step last. 'The shard was bait,' Valdris says, gentle as a tutorial. 'You were the fisherman I hired without asking.'",
+	"The lich stands at the top of the Engine and the whole inverted cathedral leans toward him like iron filings toward a magnet. Whatever you carried out of the Crypt all those years ago, he is reeling it back in, and it hums in your pack in answer. 'Home,' he says to it, not to you. Then, to you: 'You may begin.'",
+	"He does not attack. He waits, hands folded, while the bone-light gathers behind his ribs into something I don't have a category for and file under 'sunrise, indoors.' Valdris is patient, and patience is the tell — he has done arithmetic on this fight that you haven't. 'Let's see what you learned since the Crypt,' he says. The Engine begins to turn.",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// LORE — sampled by !lore inside this zone
+var LoreLinesOssuaryAscendant = []string{
+	"Valdris did not lose in the Crypt. Valdris filed a form. Dying there scattered him into the phylactery shards, and every party that looted a shard carried a piece of him one step closer to here. I have run the ledger. You were couriers. Unpaid.",
+	"A true lich, the texts say, ascends 'one vertebra at a time,' and I took that for poetry until I saw the throne. It is literal. Every spine in this cathedral is a rung, and he has been climbing for as long as you've been adventuring.",
+	"The cathedral hangs inverted over the old Tier-1 Crypt on purpose. He built his heaven directly above his first grave so the fall, if there is one, is short and he lands somewhere familiar. I note the man plans for defeat too. That should worry you.",
+	"The Grave Cardinal 'pre-blesses your corpse' with its censer — that is not a threat, it is a courtesy in Valdris's theology. The dead here are congregation, not casualties. The smoke just processes your paperwork early.",
+	"The Reliquary Knight is riveted from the donor-bone of every adventurer who died in the Crypt below, and its shield is a coffin lid because Valdris is thrifty and sentimental at once. When it blocks, it is a hundred dead heroes deciding you don't pass. I respect the craftsmanship and dislike the wall.",
+	"The Chorister sings your name in nine throats sewn to one column because Valdris kept a guest list. It is not guessing. It read your name off a shard the day you first picked one up, and it has been rehearsing. Hearing yourself sung in rounds is meant to freeze you. Don't let it.",
+	"There is a hymn carved through this dungeon in three broken verses, and the shard in your pack hums when you're near one. The texts call them 'Phylactery Verses.' I won't tell you what reading all three does. I'll only note that a lich who respects a good plan built a way to reward one, and hid it where a hurry would miss it.",
+	"He respects a good plan the way an old arcade respects a quarter — it will take yours all day and still tip its cabinet toward the player who actually learned the pattern. Valdris is patient because patience already won once. Whether it wins twice is, for the first time in years, genuinely not settled.",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// BOSS ABILITY CALLOUTS — Valdris, At Last (one-line cinematic suffix at combat
+// start). Names his threats without tutorializing the hidden Verses.
+var ValdrisAscendantSignatureCallouts = []string{
+	"He gathers the bone-light behind his ribs — Apotheosis Nova, charging. I say: 'That's the laser-eye boss's tell. When the room goes bright, be behind cover or be a memory.'",
+	"His robe of donor-bone knits shut every wound as fast as you open it. I track the healing and say: 'He's soaking hits like a Contra tank. Burst him, don't chip him.'",
+	"The throne feeds him. Every spine in the Engine leans his way and closes his cuts. I recommend you fight the room, not just the man.",
+	"He answers your best combo without flinching, like he's seen the input before. I file this under 'boss reads your buttons.' Vary the rhythm.",
+	"Green pilot-lights flare in his sockets and the temperature drops a screen's worth. Cold snap incoming. I call it: 'Move on the shimmer, not the flash.'",
+	"He resists nearly everything you throw — unless you walked in already knowing the words. I note his armor of resistances and say only: 'A fuller road here hits harder. That's all I'll say.'",
+	"He raises the fallen off the Bonefall floor to buy himself a turn. Adds incoming. Clear the small ones or the big one clears you.",
+	"He does not rush. He waits for your cooldowns like a grappler waiting out your jump. I say: 'Don't spend everything early. He's counting.'",
+	"The bone-light peaks white — decisive-phase Nova, the arena-clearer. I call it flat: 'This is the screen-filler. Survive it and the fight is yours to lose.'",
+	"He inclines his head, courteous, and the Engine's hum climbs an octave. That courtesy is a countdown. I recommend you act inside it.",
+}
+
+// ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
+// PHASE TWO — surfaced when Valdris crosses below 50% HP mid-fight.
+var ValdrisAscendantPhaseTwoLines = []string{
+	"Below half, he stops climbing and lets go of the throne entirely — floats free, robe unspooling into a corona of donor-bone. 'Now the courtesy ends,' Valdris says, still pleasant. I say: 'Phase two. He's off the rails. Everything's live now.'",
+	"At fifty percent the Apotheosis Engine reverses and starts pouring its light into him instead of the walls. He is spending the whole cathedral to stay up. I call it: 'He's cashed in his reserves — hit him while the account's open.'",
+	"Half down, and the green in his sockets flares to arcade white. This is the true-lich phase the Crypt never showed you. 'You've earned the real fight,' he says. I file that under 'promotion I did not want,' and recommend you close it fast.",
+}

internal/flavor/zone_unplace_flavor.go

@@ -0,0 +1,61 @@
+// DO NOT REWRITE, SUMMARIZE, OR SHORTEN ANY ENTRIES IN THIS FILE
+// zone_unplace_flavor.go
+// Tier 6 post-game zone flavor — The Unplace. Additive only.
+
+package flavor
+
+// ROOM ENTRY
+var RoomEntryUnplace = []string{
+	"You cross into a room the map refuses to draw. The far wall is also the ceiling, depending on which way you were walking when you noticed it. I file this under 'geometry declined to render' and log your position as approximate.",
+	"A corridor that loops back on itself the way a bad tilemap does when the artist forgot to cap the edge. You walk forward and arrive behind where you started. I recommend you stop trusting 'forward' as a concept in here.",
+	"The room has a horizon. Indoors. A flat line where floor meets sky and there is no reason for a sky. You keep your eyes down and I keep my measurements to myself.",
+	"You step through the doorway and the doorway steps through you; for one frame you are the wall and the wall is the exit. I track it as a clipping error and mark you unharmed, mostly.",
+	"Corners here are deeper than the room they belong to. You look into one and it looks back and it is not empty. I recommend you treat right angles as hostile terrain until we leave.",
+	"A chamber tiled in the same eight tiles, over and over, wrong. Somewhere the wrongness has a seam, and the seam is where the tiles don't quite line up. I file it under 'the level was never finished.'",
+	"The floor scrolls under you like a background layer moving faster than the sprite on top of it. You are walking and standing still at the same time. I count the discrepancy and choose not to share the number.",
+	"You enter and the room is already occupied by an earlier version of you, mid-stride, three seconds behind. It catches up, overlaps, and is gone. I log it as a duplicate object the engine forgot to despawn.",
+	"Water on all four walls, held there by nothing, reflecting a room that is not this one. Through the reflection you can see the way out. Through the way out you cannot. I recommend the reflection and note that I am guessing.",
+	"The lighting comes from a source that is behind you no matter which way you turn. Your shadow points at the exit. I have learned to trust the shadow before I trust the room, and I suggest you do the same.",
+}
+
+// BOSS ENTRY
+var BossEntrySeamstress = []string{
+	"The last door opens onto a room being unmade and remade in the same motion, and at the center of it she is kneeling into the tear with half of herself already gone through. The near half does not speak. The far half, the part you cannot see, is doing all the talking, and it is talking to the tear, not to you.",
+	"You reach the Seam. Threads of light run from her hands into the wound in the world, and from the wound back into her, and it is impossible to say which is sewing which. She turns the part of her head that is still on this side. 'You're late,' says the half of her voice that arrives before the rest.",
+	"The Seamstress has been here for centuries and the room knows it; the walls curve toward her the way a save file curves toward its one corrupted byte. She does not stand. She has stopped needing to. I file this beat under 'boss arena, no cutscene skip.'",
+	"She volunteered for this. I want that on the record before we begin. The celestial who came to close the tear early, and stayed, and stitched, and became the stitch. What faces you now is what's left over after the needle. I recommend you not mistake exhaustion for weakness.",
+	"The far half of her finishes a sentence you never heard the start of and the near half raises a needle the length of your forearm. Light gathers along it in a pattern I have seen exactly once before, in an arcade cabinet, one frame before the screen filled with bullets. 'Hold still,' both halves say. 'This closes everything.'",
+}
+
+// LORE
+var LoreLinesUnplace = []string{
+	"Belaxath tore the portal over thirty years of patient work. Killing him was supposed to close it. It did not. It only left the tear unattended, and an unattended wound in the world does not scab over. It scars into something with opinions.",
+	"This region is not a place. It is the absence where a place used to agree with itself. The locals, before there were no more locals, called it the Unplace. I have found no record of who named it, because the records are also in here and also do not agree with themselves.",
+	"Something has been stitching the tear shut from the inside for centuries. I want to be clear that this is not good news. A thing that seals a wound from inside the wound is not trying to let you out.",
+	"The rooms that are also other rooms are not a metaphor. Two chambers occupy the same coordinates and take turns being real. I have mapped it twice and gotten two maps that share no walls. I file both under 'correct.'",
+	"The Unnumbered is not many demons. It is the question of how many demons, left unanswered so long it grew teeth. Count it from one angle and there are three. From another, nine. The count is not a fact about the demons. It is a fact about you looking.",
+	"The Angleworn Horror does not enter rooms. It enters corners, and corners are everywhere, and so it is always already present three rooms before you meet it. By the time it is 'here' it has been eating your flank since the last save point.",
+	"The Echo of Belaxath drops nothing because it is not there. It is a recording the Unplace plays because the tear remembers who made it. Fighting it costs you and pays you nothing. I file this under 'toll,' which is the honest word for a thing you pay and do not buy.",
+	"The Seamstress arrived to close the tear early, out of mercy, and the tear taught her the price of mercy applied to a wound this size: you do not close it from a distance, you close it with the only thread long enough, which is yourself. Half of her is on the far side now. I do not know what the far side does with the half it holds, and I have decided not to find out.",
+}
+
+// SEAMSTRESS SIGNATURE CALLOUTS
+var SeamstressSignatureCallouts = []string{
+	"Needle Rain. The ceiling fills with descending threads of light. I say: 'That's the pattern from the cabinet — move on the telegraph, not the impact.'",
+	"She reels a thread taut across the arena; step over it or it cuts on the return. I call the line and you jump the line.",
+	"The far half of her speaks and the near half's attacks land a half-second early. I recommend you dodge the voice, not the hand.",
+	"She's threading toward your back seam. Turn into her — the Angleworn taught this room to hunt your flank, and she learned it too.",
+	"Barbed sutures across the floor. They tighten. Whatever's inside the circle when they close, stays. I call it: 'Get out of the ring.'",
+	"She pulls the room half a tile sideways — your hitbox and your sprite disagree for a beat. Trust where she's aiming, not where you're standing.",
+	"A needle the length of a spear, one clean thrust down the lane you're standing in. I flag the lane. You leave the lane.",
+	"She stitches a copy of the last attack into the room; it fires again on a delay you can count. I count it out loud so you don't have to.",
+	"Threads converge on a single point and that point is your heart, plainly telegraphed. I say: 'Break line of sight or eat it — those are the two options.'",
+	"She goes still and sews. Everything she mends on herself now, she means to unmend on you later. I file the pause under 'do damage, this is the window.'",
+}
+
+// SEAMSTRESS PHASE TWO
+var SeamstressPhaseTwoLines = []string{
+	"Below thirty-five percent she pulls the room inside-out and the far half comes forward. Now the threads run backward. I say: 'Watch the pulse — when it flares, what you'd call a wound on her is a gift, and what she calls a mercy on you draws blood.'",
+	"Inversion Stitch. The room is sewn wrong-side-round and healing and harm swap seats on the telegraph. Mend her during the flare and it costs her; let her mend herself and it costs you. I recommend you learn to read the pulse faster than she can throw it.",
+	"The near half has nothing left to say and the far half has stopped saying it to the tear. It's saying it to you now. Below thirty-five she is not closing the wound anymore — she is deciding you are the last thread she needs, and I recommend you disagree quickly.",
+}