Not a single soul is in the square with the statue. Curfew has begun, but she drags the red dragon's coffin over as the draconic flames burn within her own body.
Wherever she goes, the darkness retreats. Once she moves on, it re-occupies the space.
Nemos
Hah, Culann... I envy you.
Nemos
No one could have slept through you dragging that colossal statue, forcing them to come out to see what's going on.
Nemos
But what about me, Culann? What am I supposed to do?
Nemos
Do I have to keep shouting 'The Red Dragon is dead!' as I walk down the street?
She lifts her head to meet the statue's eyes. The violet flames dancing within its pupils do not answer.
She recalls the songs she sung for the dead with the wakemen all those years ago. Those from the city would also join in, if only for the first few lines.
Nemos
...I hope you all remember the ancient ballads, Tarans.
Nemos
So, Red Dragon. Which song should I sing to announce your death?
Nemos
How about the blasphemous 'Tim Finn's Wake'? Would you enjoy a funeral where people get into fights, splash whiskey on your corpse, and then you wake up after smelling the alcohol?
Nemos
Forget it. No one wants you coming back to life.
She casually sings another song that pops into her mind.
Nemos
The black clouds shroud the marsh and vales, the cold wind shrieks through the mounts and hills♪
Nemos
At crack of dawn I see a traveler, who asked me the way to the golden field♪
The wayward wakewoman sings with a hoarse voice, dragging the burning coffin towards every inhabited part of the city she's familiar with.
She stops at every house, making sure that the purple flames reflect in their windows, that the elegy is heard inside.
The more she sings, the more intimately the flames envelop her body, overwhelming her sluggish senses and making every step feel like torturous labor.
But it also lets her hear even the smallest snippets of speech from every window.
Finally some quiet. Going on and on about how your hand hurts, when your whole arm's already gone! And it's not like screaming about it's going to get you any medicine.
Fed-up Resident
If it was going to be like this, I wish you'd never come home. I'd rather spend my whole life missing you...
Nemos
I said to him: poor chap, even I don't know how far you have to go♪
Nemos
But if you wish, I'll go with you for a bit, towards the golden field♪
Nemos walks toward the last street she has yet to visit.
She has been through practically the entire city, and heard the simmering restlessness behind every door, but none of them have opened.
The wayward wakewoman gradually loses her grasp on her senses as her voice grows weaker. She has sung every song she knows, even the blasphemous 'Tim Finn's Wake,' from start to finish.
She has only one song left. She did not want to sing it, but now she has no other choice.
Nemos
...
Nemos
I stepped into the dark woods one morn, calling to the mists of hoar♪
How many times must I repeat myself, mist? Eblana is dead! I killed her with my own hands!
Loughshinny
Her body lies in the coffin Nemos is now dragging through the city. The people must know she is dead, and return her violet flames so their bodies will no longer burn!
Loughshinny
*pant*... *pant*...
Wishful thinking...
She did not gift those flames, she merely started the fire... Everything the Red Dragon promised will be lost because of you...
Loughshinny
When has she ever cared about honoring her promises? But if that's all that matters to you—
Loughshinny retreats, step by step, until there's no room for her to move any further—only then does a fierce flame burst from her spear tip, melting the coldly lit vegetation.
Loughshinny
Know that the only Red Dragon stands before you.
Loughshinny
Whatever she's promised you, the only way you'll get it is through me.
Loughshinny
Do you hear the doors opening in the distance? You must have.
Loughshinny
Nemos aside, the first resident to break curfew has already opened their door.
Loughshinny
So for their sake, as well as the hundreds more who will take to the very same streets, you must remain here.
Loughshinny
Before my answer to Na Saoirsí is deemed a failure, before the people here are reduced to shambling corpses bent on tearing the dark mist apart, you have no right to take the lives of anyone trespassing in the dark.
What arrogance...
Loughshinny
You call this arrogance?
Loughshinny
If Tara needs it, I can be far more arrogant than that.
The red dragon speaks no more, and the flames of life burn brightly atop her spear.
She steps forward with her back straight, no longer dodging the ice-cold branches, but allowing them to lace her body with bloodied scratches.
The juxtaposition of the giant statue with the two tiny figures makes them seem like ghosts.
But somehow, Nemos can also feel the presence of others besides Emma. In fact, they seem to have crowded the square, as if the whole city is here.
They are all watching and listening, lit up by the strange purple glow from their Originium lamps.
No, it is more than a glow... Their bodies are burning purple.
Nemos
The one who killed the Red Dragon is...
Nemos knows they haven't changed a bit. They are still waiting for her to utter a name they can curse and then destroy. Or maybe they will even destroy themselves.
Loughshinny? No one would believe there were actually two red dragons.
Who else, then? Who else could possibly kill the dragon who seemed to toy with life and death?
Before she can stop herself, she has a thought: Why not just say it was the dark mist, or the Victorians?
'Revenge', indeed. Let these lunatics dash into the mist and die in the Red Dragon's name.
Let them fulfill their desire for vengeance, and let this violet city die. It was born in disgrace, let it die in madness.
Yes, die, let everyone who stayed perish, just like those who left and went into the dark mist—
Distant Voice
...I stepped into the dark woods one morn, calling to the mists of hoar...
Nemos turns to look at the colossal dragon skeleton sculpture, and recalls that recent evening, awash with confusion and sorrow.
What was he thinking, the man who dragged this statue into the square? What song was he singing in his heart?
Was it the song they taught Theo when they rescued him, what feels like centuries ago?
At this moment, the last bit of her sanity snatches the answer from the fiery clutches of her rage.
The answer that had been fluttering around since the very beginning of the story, the answer to the Red Dragon, to the sisters, to the mirror and reflection, and to the flames of life and death.
Nemos
(Chokes back tears) Culann...
Nemos
(Sob) If... If it wasn't you to throw his life away protecting these people...
Nemos
...
Nemos
The one who killed the Red Dragon is no one other than... the Red Dragon...
Nemos
It was herself.
The woman before Nemos stares at her blankly, as if she did not hear her words.
Straining her entire being, Nemos yells at the whole city.
Nemos
The Red Dragon killed herself!
Nemos
She never intended to light the flames within your bodies! But she did not want you to burn into cinders, so she offered her own life instead!
Nemos
To protect you from death, and yet...
Nemos
Must you exact a fruitless revenge? Must you destroy everything she gave her life for?
The city falls silent as purple flames flicker, leaving only the dark mist lingering restlessly at the gates, as if waiting for its hesitant prey to step into its domain.
Dying Resident
You're saying... she killed herself... so we wouldn't exact revenge?!
Dying Resident
Then... what do we do now?
The onslaught of questions from the residents sends Nemos's head spinning.
Bloodshot eyes that did not shut from news of the death, instead ask her questions.
Grinding teeth that did not relax from news of the death, instead ask her questions.
Clenched fists that did not open from news of the death, instead ask her questions.
Silence, tension, confusion.
Their revenge was rejected, overruled by the Red Dragon, so where should their sorrow go now?
Dying Resident
Niels... my unborn child... the Red Dragon... someone, tell me...
Nemos
Emma?
Dying Resident
If even revenge is out of my hands, then what else can I do?
Dying Resident
I have nothing else, the war took everything from me...
Dying Resident
How am I supposed to live on? Tell me, Niels... tell me, Red Dragon...
Dying Resident
Anyone, just tell me, quickly... how am I supposed to live on?
Dying Resident
Or... should I... go to you instead?
Nemos
Emma, no!
Dying Resident
Isn't this... the only path left for me?
Gradually Approaching Voice
I stepped into the dark woods one morn, calling to the mists of hoar♪
Dying Resident
Niels, is that you? Are you finally back?
Nemos
...!
Brigid
I trod upon the road, heading out to war♪
Brigid
No pipes a-singing, nor battle drums a-roar♪
Brigid
Only the bells behind me, through dew and fog their rings do soar♪
Dying Resident
Stop singing!
Dying Resident
That song snatched Niels away from me! Why would you still sing that song, nomad?!
Emma seems lost to madness, until a soft voice sings the same tune, but with different lyrics.
The night-blind laborer is led by a wakewoman as they slowly walk into the square.
Moran
Again through the dark woods—♪
Dying Resident
I said stop singing that!
Dying Resident
—Wait, 'again'?
Moran
...
Moran
It may be presumptuous, but I tried writing a new verse to the song.
Moran
Because I don't want our brave loved ones... to just leave us, to never to see us again, to be eternally lost in the mist, just like we are.
Dying Resident
...
Again through the dark woods—parting the mists of hoar♪
Our gallants dearly departed, my heart so sad and sore♪
And so in my dreams I go, lighting bonfires in the woods♪
Not to reunite, but to light the path you trod with fog and dew♪
Dying Resident
...Not to reunite, but to... light the path you trod...?
A tear trickles from Emma's eyes, streaking across her sallow face.
Moran
Return it... Return your flames, and the blessing of the Red Dragon.
Dying Resident
Return the flames...?
Dying Resident
If I... return this blessing... this fire back to her, will it light up their path?
Moran
Return it, and the wandering departed will also return to the flames and rest in peace.
Dying Resident
No, I don't want that, I just... want to see him again...
Moran
If you die as you are, you will only ever brush past each other in the fog, again and again.
Dying Resident
Then... what should I do?
Moran
Live on.
Moran
He chose to walk into the mist so you wouldn't need to be lost within it as well.
Dying Resident
...
Moran
Return the fire to light his path. And then let the years pass, let life begin anew, and when your hair is white and he learns his wish was fulfilled...
Moran
Only then will you meet again.
The woman buries her face in her hands as she kneels on the ground, tears streaming down her fingers.
Moran hands her a candle. The candle flame turns purple the moment she takes it between sobs.
The wakemen and refugees slowly sing their way through the city, like a tiny stream left behind after a night of rain.
It is by no means a clear stream, nor a turbulent one. It is a miserable, muddy trickle flowing down centuries of painful history, carrying dust and blood, and about to run dry.
But it is this murky bitterness that reveals the city's true self in the gloomy night.
Nights of falling asleep gripping old photos, mornings awakened by phantom pain from amputated limbs.
Now-empty houses fell to ruin, while those fortunate enough to return home were greeted only by orphaned dolls scattered across dusty floors.
People flood into the streets like a burst dam, pouring into the square.
Some leave their homes with candles in hand, while many more follow Emma's lead and take one from the wakewoman.
The flames still burn purple, but seem to have softened, and bear a bit of warmth.
Nemos
Finally, finally...
Solemn Wakewoman
Place the Red Dragon's coffin at the statue's base, Nemos.
Solemn Wakewoman
It seems Na Saoirsí will witness a grand fire-returning ceremony tonight.
Solemn Wakewoman
You should be the first, Nemos.
Nemos
Me? But this is her funeral, so... are you sure?
Solemn Wakewoman
It is more than just hers, is it not?
The wakewoman looks around, trying to pinpoint the shadow of a stranger.
But even if the ghost wasn't trying to hide from her, she has no way of hearing the long overdue words of forgiveness from his mouth.
The Exiled King
...
The Exiled King
Now we're even, wood-brains.
Nemos takes a candle from the wakewoman, and bows before the burning coffin beneath the dragon statue.
Nemos
...Rest in peace.
She deliberately neglects to mention the name of the departed. She places the candle before the coffin, no longer able to stop her tears from crashing into the flames.
Violet fire instantly rises up into the sky, spreading from the coffin to the entire statue.
The crowd place their candles down beside the statue, and return the purple flames to the one who granted them their hue.
Some are silent, and some call the Red Dragon's name, but many more chant the most precious things they had lost in the war...
Tears fall like rain.
The suppressed, the promised, the twisted, the incited... Tears wash away the flickering, hollow pageantry, revealing only the sorrow of lives crushed to bits.
Crude, sharp, turbid, and stuck in their throats, only now does their sorrow manage to cry out.
The rain of tears converges into the stream of songs, pooling around the statue as the raging blaze evaporates it all, until even the citadel behind the square is engulfed in flames.
She walks the whole way from the city gates to the square. Every living resident is gathered before the burning statue.
The soaring purple flames have already taken over one side of the citadel. No one is able to approach, so Loughshinny gets all the space she could want.
Loughshinny
...It should work from here too.
Loughshinny
Eblana... May Tara never need your flames again.
A small blossom of fire flies from Loughshinny's palm. She does not know if this conforms to funerary tradition—it is simply an act of instinct.
The bright yellow flower flutters into the purple blaze. Loughshinny stands quietly, as the other fire returners have done.
