Heart Like a Reed

Smoke and debris spill over the hills, scorching flames searing the land.

The helpless red dragon, locked upon its throne.

Threads pierce its bones – so that it may not move.

Originium splits open its flesh – so that it may not heal.

Cries fill its ears – so that it may find no rest.

A scepter nails the tip of its tongue, a crown binds its brain, and a stone orb crushes its spine.

It is a red dragon atop a throne, a puppet of the shadows.

It may not resist, beg for mercy, or escape.

Within its purgatory, the living statue weeps.

Tears drip from its eyes, flowing along the threads into its unhealing scars.

All it receives in return for its suffering and obedience is silence.

Bitter hail begins to fall from the sky—

......

Reed sits down on the bed, blankly staring at the door to her room.

Rhodes Island's standard-issue sliding door perfectly fulfills the task for which it was created, letting not even a speck of light through.

Of course, its sound insulation is also beyond question. Though, given that it is that time of day when people begin their daily activities, some noisy voices nevertheless reach Reed's ears.

This is exactly the life she dreamed of.

She need only open the door, and she would become a part of Rhodes Island too, living a life in the sunlight.

However—

The Originium crystals remind her—

The feeling of guilt reminds her—

The shadows remind her—

She doesn't deserve it.

'For Dublinn!' No matter how guilty she felt, she had put so, so many people to death with this rallying cry.

Every one of those souls, young and old, were always staring at her. It's all they can do now, harshly sting at her soul whenever her heart sways like a reed in the wind.

That's the only form of revenge left for the dead.

Repent, and you will be forgiven – a cheap adage for the heartless. True forgiveness does not exist.

After all, the dead cannot speak, nor can they forgive. All they can do is torment.

Just as they were tormented.

Reed lies down again, with her back to the door, as if this would somehow let her ignore the noises coming from beyond.

Those things don't belong to her. She isn't worthy.

No matter how badly she wants them.

However, within this darkness...

She still remembers the light that occasionally pierced the dark clouds.

Born from a ring of flame... like a sun...

She longs to touch that light...

Before lying down, Reed moves her tail to the other side of the bed so that the burning flames will not affect the work of the Medical operator.

The fabrics of the bed are made from special materials so she doesn't have to worry about inadvertently setting the entire room on fire.

Reed originally thought the medic would stare at her tail curiously and ask questions, but she simply stares at the notebook and her instruments, with no intention of making small talk.

So Reed lies face-up on the bed, casting her eyes towards the ceiling, her gaze slowly drawn to the light emanating from the ceiling lamp.

It is nothing more than an ordinary ceiling light. Upon closer inspection, she can see a ring-shaped bulb through the covering.

Like a Sankta's shining halo...

Reed continues to look at the ceiling lamp. The light from that Sankta was so vivid in her memory, there should be no mistaking it.

The conversation seemingly reaches a dead end as the two tacitly agree to stop talking. Only the occasional beeps from the medical equipment still echo across the room.

Reed's mind starts to go blank.

She had never interacted with this Outcast person before – as a matter of fact, she only learned of her code name just now.

And yet, she had made the ultimate sacrifice to save her life?

She repeats this name again and again, the name of the person who peeled back the corners of darkness for her.

......

Whether it was out of honor, respect, or simply curiosity, she feels as if it is her duty to know more about this great individual.

Of course, once she's fulfilled this duty, she would once again have to return to her room to continue her self-imposed confinement.

Daily life suddenly blossoms so vividly before her, and it proves strange and foreign.

Some cordial pleasantries, a bit of noise stirred up by trivial matters, and some idle chatter to pass the time.

How long had it been since she experienced these things?

Reed holds onto her left wrist with her right hand and leans against the edge of the corridor, trying to hide her tail as best as possible to make herself less conspicuous.

How she craves to be a part of this life; to pick up a fountain pen, or to savor a soft drink.

But she is not allowed to.

The ghosts of the past still sit atop her shoulders, tearing away any hopes she might have for a better life.

She thought she'd be able to find some trace of Outcast's existence here, but instead all she finds is an empty office and a complete stranger.

So she begins to think about where else on Rhodes Island this Sankta may have had ties.

Sankta... Guns... Sniper operators...

Reed heads to the shooting range, hoping to find some information on Outcast. Anything would do; surely there would be someone here who knows her.

But upon entering the vast facility, the only thing she feels... is fear.

The unfortunate are tied up to the target dummies while the brainwashed raise their weapons towards them, awaiting her command.

No matter what she wants to say, no matter what she says, her every word is a command. With each word, a trigger is pulled, and a bolt rips its way into flesh.

The operators are here to train, and so the cycle continues – reload, aim, shoot.

The targets are here to be destroyed, and so the cycle continues – wait, be aimed at, confirm hit.

The victims are bound tightly to the target dummies, lamenting Reed's savagery until their lifeblood runs dry.

And so, this place ceases to be a training ground, and instead becomes an exhibition of her vile deeds.

She clutches the gun tightly.

The training gun is fairly light, but it keeps trembling in her hands.

She aims at her scars, at her ghosts, at this display of her sins.

And pulls the trigger—

Reed's shot completely missed the mark, only leaving a black dot in the upper-left corner of the target paper.

Reed sets the gun down.

The moment she fired the bullet, the gun responded with a powerful recoil.

It was a Sankta weapon. To squeeze the trigger is to make a declaration. And at the same time, to accept the consequences.

Outcast was fully aware of how heavy each shot she fired was, yet she... most likely never hesitated.

Reliquary Entrance

After entering the Integrated Bioprocessing Unit, continue around the corner and you'll reach the door to the reliquary. Perhaps the lengthy corridor leading up to it is in consideration of the special nature of the room.

Reed planned to head straight inside, but a conversation between two operators in the corner catches her attention.

Because of a name they brought up–

The two operators seem to have been members of her team.

So she also takes a spot in the corner, as if waiting for someone.

She wants to hear what they have to say about Outcast.

Reed holds her breath.

Reed looks away. She can almost envision what is about to be said.

Anger, hatred. These things are all too familiar to her.

Her life being saved must have been a coincidence.

But one thing is for certain.

As long as she meets Outcast, she will find salvation.

No matter how much the situation changes, the outcome remains the same.

Reed looks down the corridor to the entrance of the reliquary.

There, Outcast is awaiting her arrival.

Originally, these artifacts were stacked in a warehouse in the Integrated Bioprocessing Unit, along with other unclaimed items.

But everyone knows that some things will never be claimed, and only gather dust in the warehouse. Precious artifacts, fated to be eroded by time.

So they were placed into custom-made storage containers, and housed in a small room at the end of the warehouse.

It is a cemetery, made for the operators who have given their lives for the cause.

But there are neither flowers nor tombstones here.

Everyone keeps their voices down, for fear of disturbing the slumber of the deceased.

The same goes for Reed. She restrains her fire, trying not to allow the dancing flames to disturb the solemn atmosphere.

In front of each artifact compartment is a plume of light, and Reed follows the lights to identify the person sleeping there.

Scout......Whitesmith......

Outcast.

Her artifacts are here.

Just as Reed approaches, someone else happens to be turning around to leave.

Here, silence is the most effective means of communication.

After a simple exchange of courtesies, the two pass each other by.

It is then that Reed sees the code name of the one the Doctor was mourning–

Ace.

Perhaps, it tells the story of another savior. Perhaps one day, someone will tell that story to her.

But not today.

She walks in front of Outcast's artifact compartment, bows slightly, then reflects upon the legacy she left behind on this land.

In the compartment lies a damaged gun chamber, and next to it lies a eulogy someone wrote for her–

The light shining on Outcast's artifact compartment also casts its rays upon Reed, drawing a shadow behind her that blends into the environment.

Reed turns around, and walks from the glowing light into the darkness.

The path leading out of the room is long and dark, swallowing her up entirely, leaving nothing but the flame at the tip of her tail.

But her flame remains steady and unyielding, radiating light and warmth, steadfastly and persistently drifting towards the exit.

At that moment, for the first time in its life, the scarred red dragon roars.

And a glimmer of light flashes across a withered, dusky hillock.