Kiera stood watch over an unconscious Runt. He lost a lot of blood. Enough to thin out his face some. The district appointed cutters did their best to tend to his many wounds. Old Gran had a deft hand for stitching. Her restless team of elderly and children flocked about dispensing bandages and aiding those in need. The groans of pain and sorrow were a shrill tone that vibrated the air in the old town hall.

The row of dead and wounded stretched from the halls' entrance to the stairs of the dais. A parade of bleak faces gathered to mourn the lost. Jules sat next to the draped body of Leff. The usually vocal Mudslinger hadn't said a word since the battle. He refused any attempts to tend to his own minor injuries. Instead, Jules chose to sit with his eyes closed so that they would hold back the tears. Greenberg watched over him with a steady hand on the Mudslinger's shoulder. Not once did he try to console or comfort Jules. Greenberg merely remained. A presence for young man to return to when he was ready. Mr. Flood held his wife's cold hand, refusing to let go. The general store owner rocked back and forth on the ground. His silent sobbing was a tortured thing. Its mute cry pierced louder than any other.

Coll rested against the podium, hot and feverish. The red Dust bullet had cauterized the wound upon entry, trapping the bullet itself inside. They don't have either the tools or skills to safely remove it. So in it remained, risking infection. The innkeeper's gaze briefly met Kiera's own. His dulled eyes were relentless in their comprehension. So full of pain they were, yet depthless as if yearning for more. Kiera realized with a shock that Coll wanted to steal away the pain shrouding those in this hall. Sobered by the brutality of recent events he would make of himself a vessel for this Districts burdens. Kiera flicked her gaze away. She would not let Coll do that no matter how much the man wanted to help. Her scars were hers alone. And without it, I am lost.

The battle of the Mud District was over. Yet, Kiera was left to wonder who exactly won.

What was left of the Ophidians disappeared into the mayhem that currently was Refuge. Its utter disarray was the only reason the people of the Mud District were allowed a breather to count their losses. Whatever happened in the other districts puzzled Kiera as much as it terrified her.

"You're here."

Kiera looked up. She didn't recognize him at first. Clementine walked hunched over his cane like an old man. The splint that had held up his bad leg was done away with. He walked on both feet, though unevenly. His suit had been repaired and cleaned since she'd last seen him. He looked almost refreshed if it wasn't for those eyes of his. They didn't belong on such a youthful face. Those were the eyes of an aged man. A weary man. Kiera spent a long moment studying them before responding.

"I am."

"When did you get back?" he asked as he hobbled up the dais steps.

"Not soon enough."

Clementine stopped in front of the unconscious form of Runt. He looked down at his friend and with genuine concern asked, "How is he?"

"A thousand cuts Old Gran says." Said Kiera, "She and the Boyle brothers did their best to stitch him up. It's up to him now when he wakes."

"And Oren?"

"Dead."

Something almost like pride blazed in Clementine's gaze. "Good." Clementine knelt as low as he could and examined the bandaged puncture wounds in both of Runt's palms. He reached out as if to touch, but stopped himself. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his head. His hand clutching the cane wavered. Taking hold of his bicep, Kiera helped Clementine back up.

"I'm sorry for what I said to you. Back at the graves."

"No," said Clementine, "you were right. We waited too long. Should've been more direct from the beginning."

What suspicions Kiera held were dispelled in an instant. They were frail to begin with. There was no real doubt in her mind. Only the flimsy self-fabricated lies she told herself. "What's happening in the other districts right now…that was you."

"Was that a question?"

Kiera slowly shook her head, "No."

Clementine's face fell, "I envy Runt. His resilience. To experience so much and yet come out the other side not unchanged, but unaffected. I can't do that. I don't think I'm strong enough to let go. Anger…It's a seed. Not one we plant ourselves, but nevertheless we cultivate until it becomes a part of us. You understand, don't you?"

"Mine's been dormant with Buckets, but now…" Kiera's grip on Clementine's arm tightened. "As you said, I understand."

Clementine regarded her still bruised stomach and red knuckles. "What happened out there? At the Quarry."

"Never made it that far. Ophidians jumped me before I even got close." Kiera reached behind her to feel the base of her tail where Dwain's knife had been. As if reassuring herself it was still there. "The Rangers saved me though."

"The Rangers?"

"Yes. Spent some time recuperating at their camp. With the bulk of the Ophidians here, Captain Ashur decided to make a move on the Quarry. By now, they've probably taken it."

Clementine's lips twitched as if he wanted to smile, but denied himself. "You convinced him?"

"No convincing was required. Captain Ashur and Buckets were close. When he heard of his death…I think, all he was waiting for then was the right opportunity. With the Quarry taken care of, all that's left now is Moss and the Tradeboss herself."

"I wouldn't worry about Ira Glass."

The chilly tone of his voice concerned Kiera. "What do you mean?"

"I came to an understanding with Roland Teal. He wants Glass dead just as much as we do."

"Teal? Why?"

"She killed our mentor." Said Clementine through grit teeth, "By the end of today all of this will be over." Kiera detected hidden sorrow in that admission. Clementine straightened and limped towards the stairs. He slipped through her weak grasp as if she never even had a grip.

"Where are you going?"

"Where I should be." He said.

"And what should I tell Runt if he wakes?" Kiera paused to correct herself, "When he wakes."

Clementine paused at the top of the dais stairs. He was long to formulate a response. "Tell him it's over. Tell him I did what I thought necessary to make it so. Tell him, I'm sorry…"

The Buffer had been split. Its empty warehouses leveled. For once Clementine could see the Craft District with little obstruction. And what he saw staring back at him through the smoldering coals of devastated workshops was destruction and ruin. His tools in bringing about this end. The bodies of dead Ophidians were strewn about at the border, left in the Mud. Remnants of the battle were everywhere from the shattered wreck of the wooden defenses to the scorched remains of buildings where the fighting was most intense.

Amongst the debris Clementine spotted Alife huddled on top of a busted Ophidian truck. He hugged his Dust rifle in his arms as if it were his only source of life. His once naïve eyes stared out at nothingness. Alfie was so consumed with his watch he didn't even notice Clementine until he was right next to him.

"What are you doing?" asked Clementine.

Alfie blinked and rubbed his eyes, but didn't look away from the direction of the other districts. "Keeping watch. They might come back. We'll have to fight them off again."

"It's over, Alfie. They're not coming back."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've made sure of it."

Alfie squeezed his gun closer, "You were always sure of yourself, weren't you? Even back when we were kids."

"Some would say we still are kids."

"Then they're idiots. You don't see what we've seen or do the things we've done and remain a child." Alfie tore his gaze from the other districts to look Clementine straight in the face. His stare seemed to pass right through him. "I killed a man today. I shot him with this here rifle. Steady grip and the squeeze of a finger. Just like Naz taught me. If I didn't he would've killed Coll. He would've killed me too. I know this and yet…Why do I feel this awful?"

"Because you're a good person, Alfie."

"Not long ago, I was a grubby kid betting all I had at the Mudslinger's tables. All I wanted to do was help. If we had in the store some of the things Sned had..."

Clementine shifted his stance in the mud to face Craft District. "You should head back. See your dad."

Alfie turned away from him, "He won't let go."

"He needs you, Alfie. Now more than ever. Go to him. Help like you've always wanted."

Sniffling, Alfie climbed to his feet. The gun slipped from his grip and tumbled to the ground below. Its release brought tears to his eyes. Before he could bawl, Alfie took off in the direction Clementine just came from.

Clementine stood alone at the border recalling his time spent at Greenberg's school, when he and Alife were friends. Or were they? On second thought, Clementine didn't remember having any friends. Back then Alfie scorned Clementine as a know-it-all. Layers of paint. Clementine discarded the confused jumble of conflicting memories and continued on into the Craft District. People were already hard at work in restoring what they could and helping those that needed it.

Ever diligent the people of the Craft.

On his way through Clementine locked eyes with Marcus Vulcan. The artisan stood outside his wrecked workshop cradling his daughter Raina who cried out with tears on her cheeks. His awed expression didn't hold. It crumbled away out of shame. Clementine moved on to the Trade District. He forced himself to watch. Not once did he shy away like Vulcan did. Clementine took note of the homes he's collapsed, businesses squashed, and lives ruined. The linked detonation of Dust throughout the tunnel wasn't powerful enough to burst the surface. Only unsettle the ground. Let it cave. A sinkhole. He thought that apt.

With the city in such a state Clementine glided past without anyone taking notice or caring about the mud on his feet. They themselves were covered in grime, while he was clean and finely dressed. It was a long walk to the World Theatre. The treacherous terrain made for tough travel. Still, not as difficult as he might've imagined. Clementine's limp came naturally to him. He always felt something off about his right leg. As if it never fully healed. That dull ache he's bore these past six years served to ease the transition in a way.

To his relief, the World Theatre remained unscathed by the destruction. Clementine let himself in through the back door. As he expected the place was empty. He had taken precaution to make sure all his theatre friends were safe outside the city before today. If things went untroubled then Monnie and Merri would be laying Spool to rest out in the glades where he grew up. Clementine wished he were there.

Amongst the racks of costumes was a knocked over set. Clementine examined the mess, noticing stains of blood on the silk outfits. A chill crept up Clementine's spine. His eyes followed the bloody trail to the clothes lined changing rooms, disappearing beyond his purple curtain. Clementine approached. The click of his stick cane rebounded throughout the theatre. With a sweep of his hand he pushed the cloth aside.

Ira Glass sat on his stool in the middle of his curtained changing room holding a fistful of dress silk to a slash on her side. The wound bled into the costumes staining the bundle red. She smiled at his surprise, "Expecting someone else?"

Clementine rubbed the shock from his face, "I feared you killed another friend of mine."

"Another? I didn't start that fire."

"No, but you sent your cousin who killed Naz and Buckets."

"Like I had a choice. I offered you peace and you refused me. You wanted conflict. Their deaths are on you just as much as they are on me."

"What about Spool? Did you have a choice there?"

The realization drained her already fleeting life. "I mourned his passing."

"So did Teal."

Her eyes squeezed shut as if trying to recall something. "The music."

"His last piece." Confirmed Clementine, "A will in fact, and in it he named you his murderer."

"It was painless." She winced, "Same couldn't be said for every death. I stayed with him until the very end. No one should die alone."

"My sister did." Clementine circled around Glass so that he could lean against his dresser for support. She eyed his limp.

"Is he dead? My cousin."

"He's not the only one."

"No, I sincerely doubted he would be. Just how many do you think, huh? How many have lost their lives over this…this squabble? How many by your own hands? It was you, was it not? Ahh, don't bother answering. I saw the guilt on you the moment you pulled aside that curtain." Ira's alabaster skin took on a sickly yellow shade. "It took me years to build what we had here. Years…And you pulled it apart in a matter of days."

"It's a funny thing." Clementine sniffled a laugh, "Spool by nature was a peaceful man. I am not. He knew that revealing the true circumstances of his death to me would bring about more bloodshed. More conflict. In his will he confessed the truth only because he despised your intention to break my spirit. Still…Even after you murdered him Spool pleaded with me not to seek vengeance. That's the kind of man he was. He was selfless and kind and you killed him." Clementine slammed his cane down, "Why did you do that?! He had no part in our war. He was innocent!"

Weak and bleeding, Ira met his mournful fury with a steady gaze. "So are the citizens of Refuge."

"No." Clementine spat out the word, "They sold away that virtue with their own indifference. What innocence was left in this city died today."

Ira Glass let her gaze fall away, "Then I mourn for its loss."

"Why are you here?"

She took a few shuddered breathes before responding. "Roland has the hospital surrounded. His Fretless Siblings are everywhere looking for me. Every down on their luck musician is seeking my head in hopes of currying favor with the Patron. Before long he'd have the City Guard as well. I figured this would be the last place anyone would expect to find me."

"And Moss? Where is he?"

"The Citadel I imagine. I have no doubt Roland will worm his way in there before long." She bore a wicked smile and in that moment Clementine saw the family resemblance she had with Oren. "I hope he does. Colton Moss' death would be the one good thing that would come out of this mess."

"You despise him so?"

Ira closed her eyes just barely willing herself to stay conscious by the look of it. "People like Moss have plagued my whole life. Being in my position, a position of power, requires sacrifice. To make promises to friends knowing you will have to break them. To entertain people who so outwardly oppose every fiber of your being just to get what it is you desire. Eventually you find yourself surrounded by strangers. Moss is the one who started all this. Now he's killed me."

Blood dripped onto the floor, gathering itself into a puddle at the base of the chair. Ira Glass reached down into her pocket where her pipe stuck out from. Her hands trembled bringing it to her pale lips. Holding the pipe between her teeth she pulled on the leather pouch of Rotwheat, snapping the necklace laced around her neck. Her fingers fumbled trying to pry open the pouch. Clementine clasped her hand in his, her skin hot to the touch. He gently pried the pouch away from her fast fading grip. Without saying a word, he began packing the Rotwheat into the bowl end of the pipe. Next to the candle at his dresser Clementine picked up his matches. With a single flick, the flame blossomed. Ira tilted her head downwards so that Clementine could light the Rotwheat.

The sweet-smelling herb brought a little color back to Ira's cheeks. As she drew on the pipe her slate colored eyes met his own. All defenses were stripped away from that gaze. No longer were they the solid unrevealing things he's come to dream about. They held nothing back. All that was Ira Glass poured out of those eyes and into his soul. For the first time, Clementine saw what she really was…Lonely.

He stayed with her till the end.

The rows of red cushioned seats were all empty. Even the noise outside submitted itself to the silent void of the theatre. That is until Roland Teal arrived. The pitter-patter of his footfalls drew closer. He joined Clementine on stage, facing the nonexistent crowd. Two students of Spool, united under the shared loss of their mentor.

"I thought I'd find you here." Said Teal after a prolonged silence.

Clementine spared him a glance, "How is it out there?"

"Things are settling down. Though, Ira Glass is still missing. Probably hidden away in some secret hovel. I'm sweeping the city for her as we speak."

"No need." Said Clementine, "She's backstage in my dressing room."

The utter shock on Teal's face was a rare picture. He stormed off backstage, the echo of his footsteps fleeing into silence. It wasn't long before he returned a considerable shade paler. His face scrunched in thought. There was a period were neither man spoke. Clementine waited for the news to fully sink in and pass Teal's features before asking his question.

"What of Colton Moss?"

The Patron allowed himself a smirk, "Taken with grief from his wife's sudden flight and the devastation of his beloved city. Believing himself responsible for both, Councilor Moss leapt from the highest window of the Citadel. A fine story, don't you think?"

"It's done then."

Teal wiped his gloved hands together, "Good riddance."

"Any word from your daughter?" asked Clementine.

"Adriane sent a message. Spool has been laid to rest next to Kite. As requested. Those two were inseparable in life. Death will be no different. In light of recent events they elected to stay out in the glades for a little while. Adriane requested you come join them."

"Did she say why?"

"I imagine Monnie and Merri are worried about you."

Clementine raised an eyebrow, "She never gave you a reason?"

"My sweet Adriane speaks with as few words as possible, especially when it comes to me."

"She hates your guts."

"Yes, but that hardly matters now."

"Adriane. Your daughter…All this time and she never told me."

"Did you ever ask?"

Clementine grunted, "I suppose not. You should know, the Rangers have most likely taken over the Quarry."

Teal hid his shock well, "Things are moving faster than I anticipated. In the coming months, everything Ira built will come crumbling down. Her whole network. The ripples of that fall will be felt throughout Mistral for years to come."

"You admired her."

"How could you not? What she accomplished here was nothing less than grand. You forget, I helped her do it. I was willing to shoulder the burden of the Quarry if it meant Refuge's prosperity. Her only mistake was listening to her blood crazed cousin. She should've known better." It was impossible to tell if his regret came from Spool's loss or Ira's slip in judgment. "Word of this will travel. The Quarry will be rooted out and scandalized by every kingdom. Atlas in particular. I will pick up the pieces as best I can, but there will be no hiding the connection between Vulcan Industries and the slave mined Dust. Marcus is the one who built the lifts after all."

"Can you shift the blame?" asked Clementine.

Teal raised a curious brow, "In what way?"

"Marcus Vulcan knew nothing of the Quarry. Can you spin that?"

"It will be hard to stick. With Ira and Moss gone the people will want a scapegoat to blame for all this. Including today's…events. The masses are carnivorous. They'll want blood and that only comes from someone still alive. Marcus is the only one left and I'm certainly not offering up myself."

"Use me then. I knew of the Quarry and told no one. I caused the destruction throughout the city."

"No one knows who you are."

"Then introduce me. Bring my story to life. If they want someone to hate let it be me."

Teal turned to face Clementine directly. "Why?"

Clementine regarded Teal out of the corner of his eye, "Because I hate them."

"Even if that were true-"

"It is. I hate this city. I must. After all, I put caches of Dust underneath its streets and lit the fuse."

"Yes..." drawled Teal, "When you mentioned something of a distraction I was picturing something a little more subtle. But, regardless. If you hated this city then why would you want to protect Marcus Vulcan? A man some would say is the paragon of Refuge."

"I have no family that will be hurt by the slandering of my name." answered Clementine. His thoughts were drawn to that of Raina Vulcan. Her small outstretched hand reaching for her father's destroyed livelihood. The tears upon her cheeks. Clementine did that. He made a little girl cry. That thought alone left him strangely unbalanced.

"So be it then." Said Teal, "I'll do as you say, though I make no promises."

"Thank you."

Teal took in the scene of the empty theatre one last time. "Right, well I should be off. There's a lot to oversee. Both here and at the Quarry. I'll make sure this place gets cleaned up before Adriane and the rest return." Teal took his leave, but before he disappeared behind the backstage curtain he stopped and half turned around. "What will you do now?"

Yes, Clementine had been wondering about that all day. What now? Still he had no answer. For as long as he could remember he had been preparing for the future. Always with a plan but never until Sned's confession did he have a goal. With it now achieved, he couldn't see past the current day. Whenever he tried to glimpse the future all he saw was his immediate past. The bodies in the mud. The splintered streets. They blinded him, leaving Clementine stumbling and lost within himself. His drawn-out silence conveyed a better answer to Teal's question than any words could. And with that the man left, leaving Clementine alone in the theatre. Though in truth he was not alone. The rows or red seats were packed full of ghosts. Familiar and stranger. All met his eye.