You look around.  It hasn't changed. 

There's a puff of smoke.  Goofdaln walks out of it.  Goofdaln -- remember, your old buddy?  The guy who's never steered you wrong? 

Smoke is still issuing from his robes.  He slaps out the flames, then grabs your shoulders, widens his eyes, and locks his gaze onto your eyes. 

"You must go up the stairway to fulfill your destiny!" he declares. 

"All right," you say.  "But I'm only doing this as a favor." 

You slap yourself silly.