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What's wrong, Nemos? You seem... different...

I get it. I finally get it, Your Highness Loughshinny.

It seems that that fire can in fact infect the living.

Nemos?!

The people I once depended on turned out to be a swarm of selfish parasites.

The Leader I once believed in turned out to be an evil dragon who doesn't care if anyone else lives or dies.

The people I once put my life on the line to protect... became the reason my closest friend died.

I can't even imagine what they would have done to him if that wicked dragon hadn't lit him up with her flames.

Culann was right to ask what we would do once Samhain is over. What <i>should</i> I do?

Other than revenge, there's nothing left for me either.

As she utters these words, Loughshinny sees a flame ignite within the final Na Saoirsían left untainted by the purple fire.

Your Highness, will you regard me the same as the rest of the residents—a servant of Eblana?

No. This deadly disease... It has ultimately infected even the last person in the city.

If so, Your Highness, then I swear to you that I will aid you in this dance that's been forced on you. Until the very end...

Until the wicked dragon falls.

...I have heard your vow.

Now, I must leave the city for a while. Come with me, Nemos.

To the wakemen?

Mhm. I have no hope of curing the flame here, so I thought we should seek aid from anyone who might be able to help.

No, I can't go with you. I have no right to be there anymore.

I'll stay in the city. As long as the Red Dragon doesn't realize what's going on and tear me apart... I'll try my best to keep the situation from deteriorating.

Though, I'd appreciate it if you could return this whistle for me.

And... Culann too. Please give him a proper funeral.

A proper funeral requires eulogies from friends and family, so... I'll write one. Could you read it for me there?

...Alright.

Here. It's done.

I'll go with Reed. The Dark Woods aren't lettin' anyone in or out, but it should be smoother with us two.

No, Brigid. You should stay too. I need your help.

Reed?

I'll be fine by myself.

That works, but... Nemos, you're so different now.

...I guess this is what vengeance does to a person.

Was that another trick of the shadows? This isn't the right way. I'm going in circles.

I can't see the sky. How long has it been...? How far do I still have to go?

Well, I'm in the Dark Woods, at least. The mist and noise Brigid was talking about didn't keep me out.

Tricky fae, shadows pointing the wrong way, fowlbeasts that trip you with branches... That's all more or less the same as when I was bringing Moran and the others back.

The trees are too tall, and the leaves too thick. They block out the sky, making the life here different from outside.

...This is the right path. I'm at the heart of the Dark Woods now.

The scenery seems different from before. Where did the red and gold of autumn go?

Why does it look like this?

The black mist?!

So the woods are rejecting me after all?

Loughshinny grabs her weapon tightly. If Nemos was right, and Dublinn never returned after leaving the city, then they were most likely swallowed by the mist.

But it shows no sign of aggression. It simply lingers.

Does it... reject me?

No, it's closer to indifference... disappointment?

Why?

There is no answer except the rustling of leaves.

Loughshinny shakes her head and cautiously goes around the mist, choosing a path that looks like it has a light at the end. The mist remains indifferent to her passage.

The fae that delight in leading travelers astray are nowhere to be seen.

Another dead end...

No time to waste here. I'm sorry, but I'll have to burn a way through—

You're overthinking it.

Who's there?!

Take a guess.

You... how could it be?

You're that gentleman from the city... I wanted to ask you something, but you—

Indeed, hardly the most amicable of partings. Since then, I've been following and watching you for a while now. Consider it my way of reflecting on myself.

I'll admit you're not quite what I thought. But this is no time for small talk.

Do not burn the trees. It should be enough to illuminate them with your fire. See for yourself what they really are.

'What they really are'...?

The leaves are razor sharp. The brambles are hard, and the branches have a metallic gleam... what is this?

That's not important. What's important is that your fire can't burn through it.

Now follow me.

Hurry, before the black mist changes its mind!

We can talk later, but if that thing is in a bad mood, there won't be anything left to bury when it's done with you.

Isn't that a dead end?

Why do you put so much faith in what you see?

Just listen and move!

This is... the path I took when we came to Na Saoirsí!

So this is where those trails lead?

If you don't mind me asking, are you and the forest fae—

Don't be ridiculous. I have nothing to do with them.

The woods, though... Centuries have passed, but it's hardly changed at all, other than the black mist.

Ruins the view, really.

We'll be out of the Dark Woods soon. Now could you—

Tsk, tsk, this is really...

What's happening?

Look behind you.

Reed!

Reed! We're here!

The refugees appear on the well-lit edge of the woods.

What happened in the city? It's like the black mist got angry the moment you entered it, cutting it off from the outside. It's been days since anyone went into the Dark Woods.

A few people were hunting on the outskirts when they heard sounds from within, and saw what looked like fire.

Whenever something similar happened before, the wakemen told us not to approach the woods.

This time, though, we recognized your fire. We could hardly ignore it.

You shouldn't have come. It's dangerous here—

Then you shouldn't have either, not on your own. We all learned our lesson about letting you go off alone after waiting for you in the marshes outside Londinium.

We trust you. So please, trust us back.

...Thank you.

You're welcome. Let's go back to camp.

Mhm.

Sir, would you—

Who are you talking to? Is there someone else with you?

The red dragon turns around, but her uninvited companion has already vanished without a trace, like the dew under the morning sun.

Thank you for providing refuge for these people.

Nemos entrusted them to us. We simply did our part.

On behalf of the wakemen, I promise that we will not reveal your existence to anyone unaware. And you have seen with your own eyes that your people are safe. Now it is time for you to leave.

What do you mean? Is she not welcome here?

Neither are your people, Moran.