I have already dismissed all the servants in the citadel. These footsteps, then...
The Brigadier
...Your Highness.
Eblana
Ah, it's you. Did you need something?
The Brigadier
You aren't going to ask how I returned?
Eblana
No, I won't. You came back, and that's all that matters, my loyal servant.
Eblana
Besides, I have a fairly good idea of what sort of guest you can bring me.
Eblana
Has the curfew started?
The Brigadier
Just now.
Eblana
Then you could say that my orders have been followed.
...failure...
Eblana
Failure?
Eblana
Na Saoirsí is here. I am here. What failure?
...escape...
Eblana
The deadline is Samhain. Surely the black mist remembers this, even if it's hardly known for being a good listener.
...unsurprising...
...disappointing...
...unacceptable...
Eblana
Am I meant to understand something from these few words?
Eblana
Or perhaps... you, too, prefer the directness of Arts and destruction to the imprecision of language?
No sooner do the words leave Eblana's lips than gleaming branches thrust forth from the dark mist, reaching for her throat.
At the same time, her spear penetrates the thick mist. Purple fire is faintly visible from within; she could burn it away to nothingness with a thought.
But the branches never find Eblana's throat, and her purple flames never ignite.
Eblana
Samhain.
Eblana
By the time the sun rises on the day after Samhain, the outcome will be plain for all to see.
Eblana
So... why don't we dispense with these meaningless bluffs?
Eblana's spear still impales the mist, but the branches before her throat disappear a moment later, as do the flames at the tip of her spear.
The dark mist dissipates.
The Brigadier
Your Highness...
Eblana
You're still here.
Eblana
Did you need something else? Is this about Dublinn?
Eblana
There are only the two of us here. I will permit you to speak that word again, my most loyal servant.
The Brigadier
Thank you, but there is no need.
The Brigadier
Spectres are but spectres, even if they helped found a nation. There is no place for ghosts in the history books.
The Brigadier
But I worry about my colleagues who stayed behind that day, as I did... Where are they? Could they mean you harm?
Eblana
No need to worry. Even if there were, that is no reason for you to risk staying here.
The Brigadier
...I saw a scene of chaos on my way back.
The Brigadier
It was bedlam. People were fighting over the tiniest things... sometimes nothing at all. While others seemed to be stuck where they stood, like statues.
The Brigadier
Just like the spectres who fought the Victorians with us.
The Brigadier
Will they fade into darkness too?
The Brigadier
This is Na Saoirsí, the Red Dragon's Lair, the capital of Tara. Anything that happens here will have repercussions across the nation.
Eblana
No, it won't.
The Brigadier
...
Eblana
You don't sound convinced.
The Brigadier
Your Highness... I...
The Brigadier
At the end of the day, I have just one question.
The Brigadier
One question I pray you will answer.
Eblana
Very well. I will forgive your imprudence.
The Brigadier
(Takes a deep breath)
The Brigadier
Your Highness Eblana, that future...
The Brigadier
That future you promised Dublinn, you promised Tara, that future where all Tarans could freely write their own dreams...
The Brigadier
Was it all a lie?
The Brigadier cannot stop himself from trembling. The fear that had lurked in his heart for days overcomes him.
It is not because he fears his own end. He is not afraid of being swallowed by the dark mist like his colleagues, or of invoking the red dragon's wrath.
He fears that he will hear an answer he dare not consider.
Eblana
It was true, every word of it.
The Brigadier
Your Highness...
Eblana
I have answered your question, Brigadier.
The red dragon's voice seems ethereal, feeble even, but it leaves no room for questioning.
It is the voice that has led the man to victory countless times, and so he slowly straightens his back.
The Brigadier
Then I trust you.
Eblana
Perhaps... Or perhaps you simply have no other choice.
The Brigadier
Often have you chosen a path that seemed baffling, impossible even. But it always ends up leading us closer to our dream. Of that I have no doubt.
Eblana
Such deep trust is indeed worthy of my gratitude.
Eblana
However, I do not require you to maintain order within Na Saoirsí.
Eblana
If you managed to return from the Dark Woods, then you should return there now.
The Brigadier
Until Samhain has passed?
Eblana
Until Samhain has passed.
Eblana
Or...
Eblana
...
Eblana
'I stepped into the dark woods one morn, calling to the mists of hoar'...
The Brigadier
Your Highness?
Eblana
Do you hear the song coming from beyond the woods?
Eblana
Hardly a day has passed since you left... Fine work, Loughshinny.
As she finishes, a flame is thrown into the kindling surrounding the coffin, igniting the firewood.
The crowd gathers around the bonfire, following the instructions of the wakemen.
Solemn Wakewoman
Witness that the departed has found peace in flames. He shall no longer wander the mortal realm.
Solemn Wakewoman
Place your candle as close to the fire as possible, or throw it in directly. Return the fire to the departed.
Solemn Wakewoman
If you have anything to say to the departed, say it aloud to the flame. Be it praise or reproach, they are the memories that will console the departed at journey's end.
Solemn Wakewoman
Once you have returned the fire, please remain to keep watch over his soul, until the fire has gone out.
Solemn Wakewoman
Let us begin.
Moran
Slán leat. May you find rest, stranger—
Moran
deceiver and hero.
Moran bends down and places her candle by the fire. The licking flames swallow it in an instant, almost burning her hand.
Moran
Do you want to come closer to the fire, Reed?
Loughshinny
If there's anyone here who doesn't deserve to pay respects to Culann, it would be me.
Moran
You couldn't have saved him.
Loughshinny
Moran?
Moran
There was no place for him in the Red Dragon's Lair from the moment he made the choice to truly become a hero.
Moran
You should return the fire to him.
Moran
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Let the dead rest with our memories, as life goes on.
Loughshinny
...
Loughshinny
Return the fire...
Loughshinny
Let the dead rest with our memories... as life goes on?
While Loughshinny is lost in thought, the others continue to return their fire and then sit down some distance from the bonfire, until she is the only one left with a candle in her hand.
She walks forward in silence, and tosses the candle into the blazing bonfire.
The dead are gone.
All their ambition, obsession, realization and desperation turn to fading smoke and silent ash in the flames.
