C115: In loss, we dance, under this violet moon.

Izzy’s connection with Jack snapped.

“D… disconnected.”

Even as the word left her mouth, she still couldn’t quite accept it.

For a brief moment, she simply sat there, staring intensely into the stage of the Theatre.

Slowly, Izzy rose from her velvet seat, pacing the stage of the Theatre of Memory. She tapped her chin rhythmically, trying to force her lagging thoughts to run.

“Arriet has vanished from the mansion, along with Erin.”

“Arnold was killed by something I still don’t understand.”

“And now Jack, my last vessel has been killed.”

“What do I do?”

She had been too careless. No, too arrogant. Izzy had been too confident in her own abilities and comfortable with the temporary safety of her situation.

Only now did it truly hit her. Her situation was far worse than she thought.

Not only was the Herald coming, but they were still trapped in this forest.

The Rite had already begun. The village had turned into a dead zone.

The Inspectors were dead.

And the vile beast still lingered somewhere nearby, waiting for them to make a mistake.

“What do I do?”

Izzy paced across the theatre, contemplating, her steps quick and uneven. Back and forth, again and again.

“Izzy,” a small voice rang, but Izzy paid it no mind.

"We only have two marionettes remaining in the basement: Rudolph and Glen.’

Yet, only those two... how could they possibly mitigate a disaster of this scale? It was nowhere near enough.

“If only…”

If only Izzy had recognized the urgency of the situation sooner. If only she had taken things more seriously. If only she had gathered more bodies from the village instead of wasting time observing.

Now the only option left to her… was to face the Herald directly.

Yet, what did she know of him? Nothing, except that he might be far stronger than the lunatic old man Benjamin.

He was likely stronger than Glen’s entire band, and more dangerous than the Inspectors who had already been killed by the village.

Could Izzy honestly expect to deal with him alone?

It was already time for the Rite. The Herald could appear at any moment.

“What do I do?” Izzy grimaced.

“Izzy.”

Her breathing grew uneven. Her chest tightened as the pressure built, a phantom constriction that threatened to shatter her focus.

“Traps.” She needed to deploy traps throughout the mansion. Wire, knives, heavy hammers, buckets of lye, improvised weapons,... anything that could wound him.

They also needed to hide the portrait, their true body, far from the attic.

“But where could I hide a painting of that size?” Izzy tapped her chin. She would expect the Herald to be familiar with the basement.

What about the secret space Erin had found in the dining room?

“No, it’s too small, barely enough room for Arriet to squeeze in, let alone my main body.”

And even after all that... so what? She would still be trapped. There was no one left to lead her through the forest.

“Izzy…”

“Should I give up…?” A thought occurred in her mind. But she shook her head.

“There has to be a way to counter a Warrior Path,” she muttered, pacing faster, her thoughts spiraling. “Yi essence? We only have a single vial in our possession. Is that even enough…?”

“IZZYY!”

“!”

Izzy jolted upright, her frantic internal monologue silenced by the sudden shout.

She turned, Isa had been standing directly behind her seat for some time.

“Isa?”

The girl must have been there for a while, but Izzy hadn’t even noticed her presence.

Before Izzy could say another word, the younger mind lunged at her, wrapping her arms tightly around Izzy’s waist, clinging to her.

“Please… stop, Izzy. The flower…” Isa’s voice no longer carried that playful, childish tone. It was, somehow, filled with grief.

“Isa, this is not the time—”

“STOP IT!”

“!”

Izzy’s thoughts froze.

Did Isa just yell at her?

“What are you—”

Before she could finish, something surged into her mind.

“!”

This sensation was terrifyingly familiar.

It was a wave of warm affection. It flooded her thoughts like a dam breaking.

This was just like when Benjamin manipulated their feelings with his silver-headed cane.

“Isa!” Izzy struggled, trying to push her young mind aside.

‘What is this?!’

Yet, Isa didn’t let go. The girl’s grip was unexpectedly firm, Izzy couldn’t break free!

The young mind moved her hand, stroking Izzy’s head gently.

Her chest felt warmer, a sensation like drinking hot tea in the cold night.

Something…

‘What… am I doing…?’

What was it?

What was she doing?

Izzy’s thoughts became sluggish, the edges of her vision softening into a blur.

“Please stop.”

“Y… ou.”

Her voice weakened. Exhaustion seeped into her mind, dragging her downward into the realm of unconsciousness.

“Izzy will die… if she continues like this. She will break apart.”

Izzy’s eyelids drooped.

Something hovered next to Isa, a familiar shape.

It was…

“...”

…a book.

“Ah…”

A black book. Its pages fluttered even though there was no wind.

“Izzy… you need to rest.”

Isa wrapped her hands around Izzy’s face, bringing them close to hers.

She could feel Isa’s warmth; She could feel Isa’s breath; she could feel Isa’s compassion.

The girl’s green gaze…felt brighter than before.

["Izzy felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her mind.

'I need to rest soon,' Izzy thought.

There was nothing to worry about.”]

A faint scribbling sound scratched from somewhere.

A wave of exhaustion washed over her mind.

'I need to rest soon,' Izzy thought.

[“There was no need to worry. The situation was perfectly fine.”]

There was no need to worry. The situation was still under control.

[“There was still one more chance.”]

One more chance left.

[“So, there was nothing to worry about."]

“Y…eah.” Izzy murmured. She relaxed her body, fell further into the young mind’s embrace.

“““Izzy, it will be alright.”””

Voices whisper in her ears.

It was not Isa speaking, but from someone, somewhere. A chorus of strange, hauntingly sweet child voices.

They echoed around her.

["Izzy would be all right."]

The voices resonated together, layered on top of one another, overlapping in harmony.

“““Let’s give up, Izzy.””” They whispered.

["Izzy would give up."] They prayed.

“““““Let us… Give up this round.””””” They sang.

Izzy’s vision blurred further.

A wave of uninvited memory assaulted her, surged forward without warning.

<---, you should give up.>

<---That mask does not suit you.>

<---No matter how many times you try, the result is the same.>

<---You can’t fight against us.>

<---You can’t revive the dead.>

<---It is what it is, —.>

<---Give up.>

—

“...”

Izzy gazed up at the sky in the real world.

The outside world was bathed with violet, leaking a sickly light over the forest.

Isa’s voice whispered directly into her ear. It was soft, like a lullaby.

“Izzy.”

“...”

Inside the mindscape, Izzy looked down at herself, at her own form, held tightly in Isa’s embrace.

A warm sensation spread through her chest.

Isa’s affection.

It was warm, like sunlight through a window.

It filled her hollow heart.

It made her sick.

Izzy hated it.

Affection… did not suit her.

“...”

“...”

Her lips parted slightly.

“Right… let’s.”

—

Izzy, as a materialized, tiny form, stood atop the roof of the mansion.

The night wind passed through her without resistance, touching nothing, because there was nothing really solid about her. Her body shimmered in a soft azure glow, translucent and unstable, like a fragment of light given shape.

She had learned this ability some time ago, after absorbing the bone finger left behind by [ ], something she still could not fully comprehend.

“...”

Or, to be more precise, it was Isa who had learned it first and shaped this form for Izzy to inhabit and command.

Izzy moved her hand, then her leg, watching the way her translucent limb shimmered with an azure hue. It was a contrast to Isa’s warmer, vibrant green form.

She still did not really understand the logic of this state. It was like controlling a vessel… but at the same time, it felt like she was moving a part of herself directly.

“This is strange.” Izzy shook her head, and decided to ignore this strange logic.

And what, exactly, was the benefit of this ghostly existence?

Well, the answer was already unfolding before her eyes.

With her spirit form, standing on the rooftop, Izzy lifted her gaze and looked beyond the mansion.

“...”

Just beyond the fence of the mansion, at the very rear where the forest began its encroachment, a multitude of eyes watched her.

“Ha.”

Izzy smirked.

“So this is the so-called… ‘Vile Beast’?” she joked to herself.

In her Field Vision, these entities appeared invisible. Izzy had seen nothing.

But with this materialized spirit form, she could see them.

The forest was shrouded in thick, pulsating gray fog. Within that fog, countless eyes floated, blinking unnaturally.

Some were small, some were enormous. She couldn't fully discern their physical shapes. None of them had a clear body. Only vague silhouettes hidden beneath layers of fog.

The only one among them that possessed a defined form was….

“Is it you?”

Was a stag.

A tall stag with a human, smiley face.

It stood there, just beyond the boundary of the mansion’s influence.

Its proportions felt stretched, as if someone had imagined a humanoid deer into existence without understanding what it should truly be.

Its elongated neck craned toward her, watching her with that fixed grin that never reached its hollow eyes.

‘As I expected... something is protecting this mansion.’ Izzy narrowed her eyes slightly.

And at the same time, she had a theory as to how these creatures had located this place, given that the mansion was supposedly invisible to the outside world.

The answer was quite simple, really.

‘The mansion is no longer invisible.’

And the thing that had maintained that invisibility, she already had a guess.

‘The bone finger.’

It was the bone that had kept this mansion invisible. But after the bone had been absorbed into her, that effect had vanished.

‘...’

Still, it didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things.

If the mansion had been really hidden before, then it wouldn't have made sense for Glen’s band to find it in the first place.

Which meant there was another condition to locate this mansion.

Izzy’s gaze returned to the forest, to the monsters standing obediently just beyond the forest's edge.

They looked eager, like predators circling prey they were not yet allowed to touch, as if waiting for something. A catalyst, perhaps, for the moment when whatever barrier here was shattered.

Above it all, the moon was crying. Thick, violet tears of light dripped down from its bloated surface, staining the clouds.

‘The village Rite may have already reached its climax.’

Izzy stood still atop the mansion roof, her small azure form shimmering in the dim violet glow. Her gaze remained fixed on the swollen moon above, its violet color bleeding into the sky.

Izzy gazed at it silently, a nostalgia tugging at her heart.

‘Violet color. Purple color.’

It reminded her of her past identity as ‘Raven’.

‘Even in this other world, you are still haunting me.’

'Why are you not leaving me alone?'

Raven.

Izzy gazed down at her own chest. At the azure flower.

‘Why am I still alive?’

Forget-me-not.

‘It’s not… fair.’

“Izzyyyy!”

“?”

Izzy’s spirit form turned. She saw Isa’s manifestation flying toward her, a vibrant, glowing emerald shape against the deep violet of the night.

Isa’s spirit form flew toward her in a streak of soft green light, her small body colliding gently into Izzy as Isa wrapped her arms around her.

The vibrant green and cold azure forms overlapped slightly, like two colors of flame brushing against one another.

“Izzy.”

“What is it?”

Isa pulled back slightly, then extended her hand forward, her expression bright.

Izzy tilted her head in confusion.

“?”

“Let’s dance!”

She said it with pure excitement, her eyes sparkling as if none of the horror around them existed.

“...Right here?” Izzy glanced around.

They stood on the roof of the mansion. Above them, the weeping violet moon loomed. Around them, in every direction, the forest seethed with eyes watching from within the fog, monstrous presences waiting just beyond the invisible boundary.

“...”

Izzy said nothing.

She extended her hand, her slender fingers closing around Isa’s smaller ones.

It was strange, really. Even in this ghostly state, they could still feel the pressure of one another’s touch. A sense of contact that shouldn’t exist, yet undeniably did.

“Yay!” Isa beamed.

Izzy exhaled quietly.

There was nothing much Izzy could do, anyway.

The vessels were killed, the village was a trap of blood, and the forest was a dead zone.

At most, she could only record the failures of this iteration onto the black monument, passing the knowledge to her "next self."

So, for now, she let it be.

*trot trot trot*

*tap tap tap*

Two spirits, two minds, one body.

Dancing on the rooftop, under the violet moon.

They spun in graceful circles. Their feet made no real sound, yet the rhythm still echoed in their shared mind, as if their mindscape acknowledged their steps.

The wind brushed past them, weaving through their forms, and served as their partner. The rustling leaves acted as their orchestra.

Monsters as their audience. The fake moon hung like a backdrop, their spotlight. They cast long, distorted shadows across the stone.

They danced.

Even the distant fog seemed to pulse in time.

In their mindscape, music unfolded, the Theatre’s orchestra began to play. A melody of violins and harps that felt like a half-remembered dream from Izzy’s past life.

“Hey.” Izzy spoke, her movements still stiff and awkward as she tried to follow Isa’s lead.

They had never learned to dance.

In Izzy’s past life, there had been no room for such frivolities.

But Isa was a prodigy.

She was a genius.

A very talented, crafty one.

“Yes?” Isa answered back, her eyes bright.

A trace of imagined sweat, born of the sheer effort of her joy, seemed to glisten on her forehead.

*Trot, trot, trot.*

*Tap, tap, tap.*

“Who are you?”

“...”

Isa smiled, a wide, beatific expression that seemed to swallow the darkness.

She looked directly into Izzy’s eyes, her green gaze glowing.

“Isa is Izzy's young mind. Just Izzy's little Isa.”

“...”

A wave of unexpected warmth built up in Izzy’s chest.

She could hear it. Familiar sound. Somewhere deep within their mindscape, the sound of scribbling echoed.

[“Isa is Izzy's young mind."]

["Just Izzy's little Isa.”]

The Theatre of Memory flared to life, the crimson curtains swaying as a familiar orchestra reached a crescendo.

“Isa will always, and always will be,” Isa continued softly. The musical notes seemed to drift around them, glowing like fireflies.

'Right, she's my young mind,' Izzy thought.

She let out a snicker.

”You will regret this.”

“...”

Izzy moved her hand, following Isa’s rhythm, allowing herself to be guided.

‘Isidora… you’ll pay for this.’

Dared to manipulate her.

Lie to her.

For interfering with her mind.

“Isa gladly accepts any price,” Isa whispered, her gaze drifting over Izzy's head, as if looking at something other than Izzy.

“...”

Isa gripped Izzy's hand more tightly, her touch firm and possessive, carefully guiding Izzy through a complex turn.

“As long as, Izzy...” she murmured.

The rest was not spoken aloud. But Izzy heard it clearly.

‘As long as… you don’t leave our side.’

Like a whisper carried by the wind, the thought slipped into Izzy’s mind.

[“Together, we dance.”]

[“Under this violet moon.”]

—Act 4: The dance under the moon, end—

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