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Standing on the southwest tower of the keep, Haven's Queen watches the sun slowly sink below the horizon. As dusk settles about the castle, she decends to the courtyard and the bonfire that has been lit there. Sinking to her knees before the blaze, she pulls a small knife. Swiftly she cuts off a small lock of hair. She then slices her left palm and tosses the hair and a few drops of blood into the fire.
"For remembrance, my brothers and sisters," she says softly. "For vengence."

So many died in the attempt to hold this place- Donovan. Voralen. Sen. Roland. Durgan... the list went on and on. And so many others gave their lives to reclaim it- Jaycen, Micah the farrier, Johanne the smith, so many of the villlagers. As she tried to recall each villager, each townsperson that had scarificed so much to make and keep her kingdom safe, the tears begain to stream unbidden down Esmerelda's face. "I must not fail them," she said softly. "I need to do justice to their memory."

Unbidden, another memory that had been plauging her dreams and nightmares since the excursion in the Master's library came to mind. The scene on the island had been so clear. The intent and motivation so desperate and pure in thinking that there was only one course of action. And then all the death... But it needed to be remembered. The fallen should not be forgotten. Was this not, after all, what the Festival was for?

Staring into the flames, the litany of the dead passed through her mind...

Hushed steps can be heard from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she sees it's only Garritt, seemingly on a patrol around the keep's perimeter. He nods to her as he approaches.

"I hope I'm not intruding, mi'lady. Sound carries over this snow, and I thought I heard the words of a kindred spirit."

He notices the tears on her face, but makes no move to comfort her. While he seems a tough man, the action might seem familiar to Esmerelda- more the respect of someone who comes from a society where a commoner respects royalty, rather than common callousness. He smiles gently.

"It's good you share a thought for the dead.....It's been far too long since I have done so myself, I admit, save but for one."

(He raises his hand and looks intently at the ring he continually wears.)

"I share the sunrise with her memory, when I can, and in return she is always there for me when the times are at their darkest.

As for the others....as far as I know, I am the last Midian. We had all Haven has, and yet it exists no longer. I am afraid to begin to remember the faces and names of all who were lost, for fear of losing myself. Instead, when I swing a blade, all of my people guide my hand. When I protect a child, it is for all those who were unable to stop their children from being slaughtered.

(He looks to Esmerelda.)

You spoke of vengeance? In Midea we had a saying:

Let not vengeance be the blood that stains the blade, but the fire that tempers it.

“It gladdens my heart to see the past is not forgotten – that its lessons are studied and learned.”

Dallid approaches from the keep.

“Everything of value has a price, and Haven has paid steeply for all it has achieved to this day. But to maintain and expand upon this value, further payment must be made.”

He lays a hand on Esmerelda’s shoulder.

“You know this. You understand it. Every day you give all that you can. But you also know that the role you have embraced forbids you the right and privilege of sacrificing your own life to the cause – that you must allow, even request, others to do so instead. You know this, but it bears repeating.”

Now he turns his attention to the wilderness beyond the walls.

“The Solstice is past and Phanterra will begin to reawaken soon . As will those who wish to dominate her, and more sacrifices will be required to overcome their darkness.”