The morning arrived in grey, the sun obscured by overcast clouds.
It was the kind of gray that seeped in through the window shutters and pooled across the floorboards of the Thistle Inn.
Joren spent most of the time last night creating a list of talking points that might help the people of Dyer's Crossing wake from their eternal slumber. He wasn't sure if he was confident in what he could tell them, he just hoped it would be enough.
Late Morning – Outside the Chapel
The square felt bigger today.
Joren stood at the edge of the chapel steps, the stone cold beneath his boots. The air carried a damp stillness, like the town was holding its breath. Slowly, people had begun to gather thanks to Willow and Gus.
Familiar faces.
Blank ones.
Every single person that arrived looked vacant, just present in body but not spirit. Most just stood there, waiting for the speech they thought would come from Lysaire. Joren shifted his weight slightly, the paper still clutched in his hand.
It felt too thin for what he had to say.
Too small to carry the weight of what he needed it to do.
He wasn't sure how long he had until Lysaire showed up. He could feel the shape of her absence, a mere moment to steal these people's attention from her grasp.
That moment was coming, and when it did, it would either break the town's silence or seal their fate forever.
Afternoon – Outside the Chapel
Joren stepped forward, boots scraping softly against the chapel steps. He didn't raise his voice at first. "I don't think you remember what you used to want."
A few of the people began to look at this boy, but only a few.
"You came to Dyer's Crossing because you were tired, because life outside these streets was loud and cruel, and you thought maybe this town would be different. Maybe forgetting was the only way to survive." He took a shaky breath.
No one blinked, he felt like he was talking to a wall.
"But peace isn't the absence of pain, It's the presence of hope."
Someone shifted.
A woman near the back clutched her coat a little tighter.
"I know what it's like to want to forget," Joren said. "To want the sleep to last forever because waking up just means remembering everything that went wrong. Remembering how you weren't enough or how you couldn't save him."
His voice cracked slightly, but he didn't stop.
"You've been told it's safer to stay tired. Many of you have forgotten what has been going on around you, who you've lost." He pointed up to the sky behind them. "You've stopped looking up. When was the last time you remembered what the stars looked like? What you used to dream of? What you thought you'd become before this town made you forget everything?"
The wind moved again, stronger this time. A few people blinked, as if roused from a long nap. The sun began to break through the clouds, bringing light to this little town.
"She's made you forget who you are. Lysaire is not your friend, she has been putting you all under her spell so that you became docile."
A murmur began circulating through the crowd. "Lysaire wouldn't do that to us, she's our friend." Many nodded in agreement.
Joren went on. "She told you it was kindness when she came to your aide. She told you the guilt would fade and that rest would come. But none of you have rested, have you?"
That landed.
A hush deeper than before settled with the crowd. A few people's eyes began to shine again.
"I've seen what this town does to people." His voice was louder than he had ever spoken before. "I've seen Willow wake up and not remember how to turn back into herself. I've watched Gus yell at nothing but the air, and he is a man who doesn't yell. I've watched the same old lady write letters to her husband every day, but she can't remember what actually happened to him."
The crowd truly began to stir now, slumber sliding off of them like a blanket falling to the floor from your shoulders.
A man in a butcher's apron took off his hat and stared at the chapel stone, blinking rapidly. A woman in a shawl clutched her locket tighter, her lips trembling.
"I know it hurts, I know it's easier to keep forgetting, but that's not living."
Just as Joren opened his mouth to speak again, a voice cut through the crowd, warm and calm and heartbreakingly familiar. "That's enough, Joren."
Lysaire stood just beyond the chapel gate, hands folded neatly before her. Her expression was soft, almost motherly. "Please," she said, walking forward slowly. "You're scaring them."
She stepped lightly across the stones, her footfalls barely audible. The crowd parted for her, not out of fear, but of long held respect that became reflex now.
Joren stood his ground.
"You should be scared," he said, voice steadier now. "Because if they remember what you've done, what this town really was, you won't be able to hide behind that smile anymore."
Lysaire stood a mere couple of feet from Joren now. Her gaze was gentle, almost sad. "I never hid," she said. "I've always been here. I have helped every single person in this village carry the burdens that weighed them down. Not once have I not been there for them."
"You didn't carry anything," Joren snapped. "You buried it. You buried all of them in silence and called it mercy, but that isn't mercy, is it?"
Lysaire flinched. Just barely, but enough.
"I only wanted to help them find peace," she said softly. "To be able to breathe without the weight of what they've lost pressing on their chest every hour of every day."
Joren's voice lowered, full of conviction now. "But they never breathed, Lysaire, they just stopped feeling anything at all."
She looked past him now, at the faces gathering in the square. People began to look at her differently, doubt beginning to trickle into them.
"I saw what pain did to people," she said, louder now, the calm starting to splinter. "After the fire... after my village…"
Her voice broke.
"I watched mothers scream for their children as they were massacred before their very eyes, watched men dig through remnants with their bare hands looking for pieces of a life that no longer existed. I saw what guilt did to them, how it took hold of them."
Her fists clenched at her sides.
Tears ran down her face, the ugly kind. It was the first moment she looked like she was human.
"I was trying to protect them," she whispered, eyes wide. "I just wanted to protect them."
Joren stood very still. He didn't feel triumphant, just understanding of a girl who didn't truly grasp what she was doing. The people of Dyer's Crossing were awake now, seeing the world as it was meant to be.
"People aren't meant to survive," he spoke with certainty. "They are meant to live."
Lysaire's lips parted, but no words came. She heaved and shook in ragged breaths. "I still hear them, Joren. Every night. I hear them screaming as that monster ripped them apart and how those that survived wept for an eternity."
Her voice cracked under the weight of the intense emotions. Her tears were raw and pure, full of guilt and suffering. Lysaire wasn't some monster that wanted to control everyone here, she just wanted to make sure they wouldn't feel like she did. Her earrings, the crescent moon and reversed hourglass, lost their luster now.
A man in the crowd spoke up softly. "My son... I had a son." His eyes welled up. "I remember now. I lost him to that terrible storm." The old lady could finally remember why her husband was away for so long.
Lysaire sank lower to the ground, both hands braced against the chapel stones. "I was trying to save them from what I endured," she said. "I didn't want anyone else to carry that much sorrow like I had to."
Joren stepped closer, not as an enemy, but as a friend. What he whispered couldn't be heard by the townspeople, but it seemed to resonate with Lysaire. She rose to her feet and departed from the crowd.
The people split again out of habit as the watched her walk away, her face red and eyes puffy.
No one followed her.
Gus and Willow joined Joren on stage, Willow embracing him in a hug. "You did good, kid." She spoke into his shoulder. "That was wonderful." Willow looked like she was holding back tears herself, Gus standing back with a solemn look on his face.
"You changed something," Gus said, his voice making Joren feel proud. "Everyone felt that."
The three of them stood there for a long moment, surrounded by villagers who were finally waking, blinking like they were seeing the sky for the first time in years. Theo wept for the first time in many months, finally realizing why he ran the shop all day by himself.
The weight of their memories and grief pressed down on them all, but for the first time, they felt alive.