She looked down at her filthy hands, and they were shaking. Uncontrollably. Cara turned back to Dalius and remembered his…face.

That was the madness of this place. She saw him drifting away, head in his hands, talking to himself, nonsense, recriminations.

Madness in this dark place. Cara looked at him, the door, and knew it was not a day they could give, either of them. A week. Let alone a month. Not her with her living failures, nor him with his endless desire.

They needed to know there was more than this.

So the [Actress] closed her eyes, and took a moment to compose herself. Then she walked forwards onto the stage.

——

The [Knight] knelt, trying to convince himself to do the last thing in the world he desired. He could not!

And he was afraid of what might happen if he delayed his choice. If he had less strength of will. If he gave into…

His head rose as he sensed movement. It was not the mice. He saw Cara walk towards him. Dalius—his name was Dalius, the ghost remembered—Ser Dalius flinched, in guilt. In expectation of hatred, condemnation. But she just knelt there. She opened her eyes and he saw, for a moment, a glimmer in the corners.

Tears? Just for a moment, and they were gone. An act? If it was, it was one so perfect it fooled him. And if it wasn’t?

Cara took one breath. And then, into the silence, she sang the first song. The one he had heard. The one which had saved her life.

Everything’s Alright, by Laura Shigihara.

A lullaby. A kind song, that provoked tears and touched the heart. It took him away. Reminded him of a time before this. Long ago.

Slowly, the [Knight] sank to the ground. His form grew vague and transparent. Fading away as the song continued.

He didn’t even seem to notice at first. Then he glanced down. She heard an inhalation, and then Ser Dalius knelt, in every detail and contour clearly defined. He clenched his hands tightly, struggling.

Remember who you are. As she kept singing, he rose.

In the darkness, the [Knight] drew his sword. He lifted it slowly, reverentially tracing every inch of the blade with his eyes. Ancient metal engraved around the hilt; a razor’s edge of straight steel. The memory of steel and old art. He walked towards the shining doors.

Every step was weighed down by doubt. Temptation. Loss and loneliness.

The oblivion of the tomb, like the heaviest weight. But the words—he closed his eyes and listened to the music.

His grip tightened on the ethereal blade. His faltering steps became sure. The [Knight] walked faster. As if her words were the silent beat of his long-dead heart.

Cara’s voice faltered. The song ebbed. And she watched.