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You don't even know the answer, do you?

With great effort, Nemos lifts the spear and thrusts it into the coffin.

Flames from its tip engulf the coffin in an instant, spreading along the rope connecting it to Nemos and merging with the purple fire on her.

A deathly cold runs through Nemos's body, but she could hardly feel temperature at this point.

You're mine now.

I'll finish what Culann started.

Let's go, to those lowly, despicable places that suffered from the war you stole victory in.

You will be seen by all. Your death will be seen by all.

They will know that you are dead. That the proud, imperious red dragon is dead. 'Here lies Eblana Dublinn, in this coffin covered in freezing flames.'

But... what will they do then?

I pray that your death will wake them up, of course, as Loughshinny hoped.

That they'll know that the era you represented is over. That Na Saoirsí will escape this calamity. That Tara need not celebrate its rebirth with the death of a city.

But... heh...

Your fire must have gotten to my head, dragon.

Why is that I suddenly feel like the other ending... where it all ends in destruction... isn't so bad?

Someone else may have killed you, but...

<i>This</i> is my revenge.

The coffin remains silent, and Nemos no longer speaks.

Silent, delirious, and determined, she drags the burning coffin down the stairs, making a point to let it hit each step on the way down.

It sounds like the withered mockery of the dead.