The Fire that Has Always Been Burning

Ercilia blinks at the sudden realization.

"Oh," she blurted out. "I think I forgot."

She apologizes to Drystan and then excuses herself. With that, she hurries outside to get the matches from the car, and as she bursts out of the funeral building, she thinks to herself. Maybe she doesn't want to see any kind of flame ignite itself in Delaney's presence after all.

The world outside becomes dark as evening falls. Those left inside can see the transition through the windows.

"She's taking a bit too long," Drystan fretted. "I'll go check-"

"Maybe she needs a little help with the matchsticks," Ruxandra interrupted. "You can stay here. Talk with the priest or something. I'll go and help her."

Drystan quietly watches her stand up, gratitude flashing across his face. He gives her a smile and then mouths a thank you. Ruxandra nods simply, pulling her coat along before striding towards the door.

Sure enough, Ruxandra finds Ercilia outside.