Liberi Reader

The young red dragon tries to block her sister's line of sight with her body, but her effort is in vain.

A small paper box sits on her desk, carefully lined with cotton. Inside lies a tiny fowlbeast—already dead but still harboring a faint lingering warmth.

It seems to have broken its leg while alive. An unsuccessful splint fashioned from stiff paper now lies in pieces around it, accompanied by a few grains of wheat.

Purple flames slip past the fowlbeast's feathers into its already cold body.

The two watch as it slowly stands up, its broken leg stiffly propping itself up on the cotton.

The young dragon looks away to avoid her sister's eyes, but finds her gaze landing on the fowlbeast standing on its cotton bed instead.

Purple fire burns in its eyes, and even the way it tilts its head is the spitting image of her sister.

Once packed with guests, the long-empty parlor's acoustics now amplify the sound of the bandages being ripped apart, making the atmosphere even heavier.

The noble red dragon racks her brains for a verse that would not rouse her sister's rage. Perhaps something related to Tara, brave warriors, or even ancient legends—

But all she can recall are verses that stand aloof from worldly affairs.

She sneaks a peek at her sister's face and sees no change, so she plucks up her courage and continues to recite more lines.

Only when she finishes both the entire poem and the new bandage with a delicate knot does she realize that her sister has already fallen asleep, encircled by meter and rhyme.

With that same smile of hers, the older sister stands at the end of the corridor, while the younger clutches her hands together and hides in the shadow of a wall lamp, hoping the other party won't notice her heart wavering.

Poor thing. She could have concluded this farewell so much sooner.

The noble red dragon finally steps out of the shadows, walking forward to support her sister who seems on the verge of being unable to stand... just like before.

The older sister's mouth curls up in an intriguing arc.

The younger sister closes her eyes as she points her spear at her older sister, whose body is about to topple over. She grips her weapon with both hands.

The sharp speartip pierces the red dragon's body, but she stands unmoved, as if nothing happened at all, until her younger sister's hand circles her waist, and her body slowly crumples.

...Just like the end of a dance.

The noble red dragon loosens her grip in shock, and her sister's body drops to the ground, as cold as it was before her heart was pierced.

It is not blood but purple fire that roars from the wound spanning her entire torso. It instantly floods the balcony and flows down the citadel.

The noble red dragon rushes over to the balcony, but the purple flames of death are even faster.

Before her own flames can emit even the tiniest spark of light, the purple fire spreads across the city, burning the whole of Na Saoirsí.

The last time she looked out from this very spot, the flames were scattered like stars in the sky. When she had returned earlier that day, they coated the whole city with a cold and gloomy hue.

And now...

Na Saoirsí itself burns fiercely, just like every other restless corpse she has seen.