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𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟷 - 

𝙵𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙸𝙽:

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰 𝙴𝙿𝙸𝙲𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙴 - 𝙳𝙰𝚈

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰, 𝙷𝚈𝙳𝚁𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙽 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜. 𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 

𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴

𝙵𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙾:

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟸 - 

𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝙸𝙽:

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰 𝙴𝙿𝙸𝙲𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙴 - 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰'𝚂 𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳

𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚝. 

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚜.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎—!

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰'𝚜.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

(𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚌𝚎𝚝)

𝙱𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚡𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚙.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

(𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚢)

𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝙸...𝙸 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝙵𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍...𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎...

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜. 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰'𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

(𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗)

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕. 𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘, 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚍. 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜. 

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗. 

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

(𝚜𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛...𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗? 𝙾𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢? 𝙸, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝–

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜. 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂

𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍. 

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂

𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝...𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚢.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚜𝚒𝚝.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝙰 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛-𝚖𝚎—

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚞𝚙, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙰𝚊𝚑...𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎. 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚎. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙵𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢. 

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚢. 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚝?

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊. 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 

𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜...

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚙, 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚢. 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠.

𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁-𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰

𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝙸.

𝙵𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙰'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂

𝚂𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊...

𝙴𝚇𝙸𝚃. '𝙷𝚈𝙳𝚁𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙽'

𝙵𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 

𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟹

𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾—

It's only you...

"You are Focalors, the real Hydro Archon..." Furina wills her voice to stop shaking. "aren't you?"

"My, you are clever." Focalors acts as if she had solved some grand mystery. "That is why I entrusted the task to you, it's no wonder you were able to complete it so masterfully." 

Furina makes a point of giving a bewildered look, because she is being praised for the exact opposite of what she'd done. The prophecy was right; she saw it, felt it, and she knows her real senses are not as false as this dreamstate's. 

Furina 'the Hydro Archon' failed. She was not only entrusted with the role of governor but with the lives of Focalors' people. And she failed. The prophecy, serial disappearances case, Poisson, the dozens of other preventable casualties over the last five decades, proof of her utter incompetence. Be it from Furina to judge the archon she only imitated, but she can't see those statements as anything other than a lie atop of a lie

She tries to bunch her fingers into her shorts as if she could steal strength from the fabric itself. Still... if she doesn't ask now, she's afraid she'll be out of time the dream will end, and she'll be right back on that submerged throne.

In a quiet voice, whispering every word as though her tongue were made of glass, "You...you said— you said that the prophecy is fullfilled. I saw it...the water, it flooded the Opera House."

Focalors affirms. "Yes, Fontaine is currently flooded."

She chokes on air as a freezing bile settles in her stomach. Hopeless. It's all utterly hopeless. 

She sinks like a dead body against the seat. Naturally, it was a fate worse than death— she was alive to witness her own failure. Only when she sees the fresh ocean of tears is when Focalors seems to realize herself.

"Oh, b–but! No one will die. The water will receed. You, ah, you needn't cry anymore..." Furina wracks with a heavy sob and she cringes. "Apologies... I should have said that first, I'd assumed you understood when I said 'ostensibly'."

Furina tries to speak through the stone in her throat. When that doesn't work, she settles for giving her a pinched expression, hopefully enough to convey her confusion.

Focalors asserts, "Fret not, as I said this was all slated to occur. And, your Iudex now knows of your situation, so you may cease any other useless worries. You didn't say it, but I know it was on your mind." 

Furina is too winded with emotion to realize how her body slumps like a marionette without strings. Focalors' reassurances triumph in an internal battle against panic and misery, and she finds herself beginning to relax in a way she hasn't for five centuries. Their environment almost seems to mimic— the lights don't shine as bright and the air isn't as cold. Focalors sits and observes patiently. 

"I'm sure you are waiting for me to explain everything."

She doesn't yet trust her voice, so Furina only nods. Focalors copies the motion and clears her throat; Furina thinks she's imagining it when the other sounds the smallest bit timorous. 

"To put it in simple words, we are of the same entity." She begins, "When I ascended to a seat of the Seven, I seperated the divinity from my human body and created two seperate beings; that would be, you and I."

She picks up her dainty cup again, rimmed with a blue that matchs the ends of her sleeves. She sips as gracefully and poised as a woman who's never used a teacup before.

"You, playing the part of the Hydro Archon in the prophecy, would put on a performance of godhood for five-hundred years. And I, hidden in the wings, would be constantly accumulating Indemnitium within the Oratrice. Of course, some have already discovered that only a small fraction of the energy generated by the device was ever used to provide power to Fontaine..."

She sets down her cup. "The vast majority has been— had to be— accumulated to enact my death sentence. The grand finale of the prophecy."

...

"My... you're paler than a guppy."

"Your death sentence?"

Focalors looked vexed. "'The Hydro Archon; guilty. To be punished via the death sentence.' Who did you think that was?"

Though it was impossible by both sensible deduction via experience and dream logic, Furina felt dizzy in her chair. She feels even more tears threaten her eyes; surprised her body has any left to cry. 

"I don't understand. You've— you've just come back...why?"

"To fullfill the prophecy, I must bore it's judgement. That is the only way to both fool the Heavenly Principles and ensure the continuity of Fontaine." She becomes somber. "I am sorry to have kept you in the dark about all of this. To fool Celestia, I first had to fool myself." 

She explains everything with practiced patience. Furina strains herself to listen to every word— it's hard, through all the noise in her mind. It feels like she's hearing too much and not enough at the same time.

"I would be elated to learn if you could forgive me one day, even after I am abdicated as a member of the Seven."

"You're sacrificing yourself for Fontaine." Furina states with wobbly voice. When the other only nods, she feels almost restless. Her fingers twitching where they rest in her lap. She isn't the archon anymore— she never was— but the real archon is about to become a martyr. Furina recalls the fate of the last nation to challenge the Heavenly Principles. That wouldn't...happen again, would it? 

A godless Fontaine means she'd be the only knowledge her modern people have with an archon. Her; bumbling, bratty, weak. They won't ever get to experience their nation thrive under a proper god. For some reason that horrified her. 

They both remain quiet for a long moment, long enough to where the silence seems to grow into a neurotic entity of its own. Furina clenches and unclenches her fists as if that would give her equanimity. Focalors taps a finger on her teacup; the only sound filling the room being a gentle tink-tink-tink.

"...Many would rather leap from the cliff of uncertainty than embrace the air of truth." Focalors is the first to speak, sensing this could go on for a long while if she wasn't. "Perhaps this is something both gods and humans have in common, we two appear to be no exceptions."

Furina balks. "But you are the real Hydro Archon. What truth would you be hiding?"

"It's not always about hiding. In my case, it was more like ...refusing. Uncertainty was this performance, and my 'truth'—" she makes air-quotes. "—was the will of the Heavenly Principles. I had no guarentee this plan would work— as genius as it was, it was not infallible. And should it fail, Fontaine would be destroyed, and we'd both most likely be thrown to the wolves in one way or another. It was a trumendous risk." 

Her voice held an odd timbre, yet her face softens like she was recalling an old memory. "However, it was one I took with no hesitation. I jumped from the cliff, and at the end of the long, long fall was an ocean. Gentle and protecting, I fell in and the air floated right off. It holds me, the same way it cradles the lands, inert and unyielding."

She gesticulates, "Now, truth and uncertainty are not mutually exclusive. One can be uncertain of the truth, but that does not inherently make the truth no longer true, does it? And still truth can be changed— the same way a bubble pops and water moves to fill the lost space. Really, when you think of it that way, uncertainty is truth. Justice is like...the ability to choose your truth. Or choose your uncertainty...or...uhm..."

The twisting metaphors morph into a labyrinth that Focalors herself seems to get lost in. Furina ventures, "Sorry...I'm afraid you've lost me."

"Well, I believe I was quite clear." Focalors blows out. "What I'm trying to say uncertainty is only that— uncertain, not slated one way or the other. If you were to, say, masquerade for five-hundred years as a god, are you embracing the truth, or jumping to uncertainty? Likewise, truth can be your freedom or your oppression. I renounced my truth and I changed it. You however...haven't had that choice." 

She goes to lift her cup again, tea already half gone. "Until now, that is."

Furina is unsure of her freedom when her very being is an affront to the heavens. “But...isn’t it wrong? To exist against the will of fate itself? I don't think neither embracing my truth nor my uncertainty will change that."

Focalors frowns in a way that shows more disapproval than pity. "I am not here to give you absolution, nor am I the arbiter of morals. If anyone is to take the blame in that situation, it would be the creator of such a being. You performed well. Please, sip your tea."

Furina found herself useless until given a command; which she obeyed instanter.

In the presence of her own divine form was when she felt the most ...normal. It was as refreshing as it was alarming. The tea was particularly plain as well; even in her own dreamscape she cannot escape the mundanity of thé au citron. 

"Though in a way it was I who dictated this destiny, it was as impersonal as a guillotine." Focalors adds, "And in my eyes, to be human is to be part of the greatest opera ever known. So if it is not impertinent for me to say...I envy you greatly, Furina." 

A god envying a human. Yes...she can imagine that. Even when she only pretended to be a god, Furina was not so incognizant to say she did not cry herself to sleep or lash out at her attendents over her own envy.

She hadn't truly considered what Focalors' appearance meant for her until that moment. The her of the morrow will be free the onus of the Hydro Archon. Furina will not be Focalors, as Focalors will be dead, Furina will be Furina. 

Furina, not Focalors. 

Furina, not FOCALORS or HYDRO ARCHON or LADY FURINA DE FONTAINE.

Only Furina. 

Why is it so hard to imagine her as herself?

She hears the greatly overdue curtain call. She takes a bow and exits left, and the house would shake with applause as the spotlight trained on her, only her, only Furina, goes out. The spotlight that illuminated her 'divinity', broadcasted her every choice and expression to the nation. The nation that was her everlasting audience. She could forget about the duties, the meetings, the prophecy. She could forget devotion in every eye that sprang into her office desperate for guidance from the illuminated 'Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples and Laws'.

It was utter torture. But even some times, there was a beacon of relief which she could wrap herself and get lost in until morning. There was no doubt— she was loved. She was admired. It was real in some ways and fabricated in others...

...but if she'd felt that love before, how can she ask herself to forget?

Without reason, she's reminded of a scene from one of her favorite plays, 'Le Procès de Constance' 

"One foot after another..." The lead said to himself. The play was about a man and his brother being accused of treason by a tyrant king, and their struggles to prove their innocence while gradually untangling the mystery that got them accused in the first place. In the end, they ask to be reborn to shed the burden of humankind, and a sorceress turns them into oceanids. At this moment, leads Robért and Constance have escaped their prison cells and are hiking up Mt. Triomphe to a ruin that holds the answers to their case.

It was like a military chant, shell-shocked men marching to their certain deaths, solely for entertainment in their last hours, desperate for something to ground them. The protaginists at this point have been through unimaginable struggles. 

The narrator comes on stage and gives a brief monologue which tells a story from the two men's childhood, particularly the younger Constance. He puncuated every word with a wave of his arms. Such moving words. At this point, half of the audience was either applauding or weeping. 

"—Faced with this cruel reminder of his own mortality, he cries for days. And there had been no hands to wipe away the tears on that boy's face. They became stains on his cheeks, until they would fade into permanent scars."

At this point the lights would dim, and when they were bright again the leading characters were on centerstage on the peak of the mountain.

The next minutes that pass are of them exploring the ruins, meeting the Sorceress Renée, and discovering the truth of their pasts.

"...Born as oceanids, innate to the nautical, you carry power from the deepest depths of the sea. The king, led by fear, accused you of the highest crime to ensure his domination."

"This is—!"

"There is no way..."

A conversation between the brothers and Renée lead to their decision to shred their humanity and return to their original forms. A moment of mystical music, covered by smoke the actors retreat backstage, and two oceanid puppets are pulled upwards from behind the cardboard mountainrange. The lights change from purple to blue to yellow in quick succession to give the illusion of a magical transformation. It's framed as a moment of triumph and miracle.

"No longer we are beholden to our earthly forms!"

"True freedom is in the water's embrace. When our beings were shaped and emerged from the sea, it is the sea we shall return."

"As the dancing water flows, so too we would live in perpetuity with the waves."

"We have been remade!"

Applause rumbled the house, Furina herself being one of the loudest. 

The humans at this time did not know of their origins of oceanids, yet the truth was always in them— perhaps it manifested in unconscious ways, like through the medium of art. Not even Furina knew, but the human mind is truly a powerful visionary.

...When she'd come to in this desolate place, she was certain that it was because she’d died and gone to the afterlife. Maybe to be judged by the Heavenly Envoys. And now, given the opposite, she hardly had the willpower for a renaissance of self. After the first century, the character of Focalors and the actress of Furina became too overlapped. She is not the same person she once was.

"As I place my neck under a blade of augury, when sunrise comes and I am no more, I shall have no affronts left for Celestia."

When Furina finally looks back up, Focalors' expression is one of solemn. "My only regret is that I could not have made this easier for you."

Her eyes are exactly like her own. She remembers vividly the unadulterated pride in her devotee's when faced with their 'archon'. 

Is this how she was seen? Merciful? Sagacious? Omniscient?

"...Well, the hour is almost upon us."

Focalors stands. Startled, Furina watches with growing anxiety as she begins to walk towards the audience. Is this it? Is she going to watch her die?

"For the sinner, the curtain call has come. I know I may not sound it, but, faced with death, I find myself a little afraid. Perhaps this is another thing both gods and humans have in common."

She stops halfway to the edge. Furina waits for a blade, a shot, a bang of some kind. She tries to speak, or to run, but she is completely paralyzed. Though she knows there would be nothing for her to do anyway. To prevent her death would be to fail Fontaine; and she's tired of failing. Now to win, all she has to so is sit, still as stone, eroded by fear like rushing water as she only watches.

Then abruptly, Focalors spins and rushes back to the table. 

Furina had no time to think once she was suddenly embraced with an arm around her back and a hand cradling her head. She never reached the peak of her sorrow as it falls away, shoved aside so stupefaction and disbelief can swoop in.  

"Farewell, Furina. Live, extraordinary or not. You are only you now."

Distantly, Furina recognizes a blue mouton hanging above, lying in wait. Be it may, her mind is too full of muted bliss to fully notice.

It's only you.

"May law be the prayer on our lips. May judgment be our worship. Let us light the fires, and drink to the future of Fontaine!"

F–ri–a

"There is no trouble in this world that justice cannot solve. All that is needed is for you, my people, to believe in it, heart and soul."

Furina...

"So long as I, the Archon Focalors, stand within the Opera Epiclese... so long as I stand before the Oratrice... I shall even judge the gods of this world!"

"Furina."

A tall figure blocked the sun from her eyes. Neuvillette stood over her, expression one she couldn't read. That was rare. 

She was seated against a column of the Opera House. The ground below was wet and soaked into her shorts.

Furina watches silently as people rejoice through the plaza over the absence of the prophesied disaster. Melusines comforted those who were shaken, men and women skipped over the puddles like children, even the guard's dogs sing with joy over a cacophonous song of praises and thanks to the heavens.

The floors still shined with water. The sun reflecting off it almost and giving the illusion of glitter. When Furina didn't respond, Neuvillette kneeled to her side.

"Are you alright?"

She opens her mouth to give her line of Yes! / What a silly question. / I am the Archon Focalors— / Do you dare doubt my certainty? Then snaps it shut just as quickly. Furina, for once, ponders the question.  

"I am...unsure."

Neuvillette frowns, a shadow of understanding. He stands again and Furina thinks he's going to leave her alone to collect her thoughts. In truth that's the last thing she wants—

Until offers his hand; an invitation and a small, unsure smile.

"Then, would you like to walk with me?" 

Furina doesn't return it immediately. Her eyes wander back to the people of Fontaine. The anxiety plaguing their lives for the last month is nowhere to be seen, and something in her quiets. The howling of anxiety drifts farther and farther, so far she doesn't even recognize it anymore. It is a not a feeling she will soon relinquish now that she’s finally managed to grasp it. 

She takes his hand.