PART 1:
Valentina: Our little art appreciation tour of Vienna is just about over.
The lurking vampire has shown herself right on cue, dragging the story toward its final act.
Valentina: It's nearly time for our rendezvous with Manus Vindictae. Best not be late. They can be as paranoid as the Foundation, worse even.
Valentina: Tell me, Semmelweis—will you join me?
Valentina: Or do you still intend to place your faith in little Lorelei? Betting your future on a song?
Lorelei: No.
With that soft reply, the girl in restraints shakes her head. The unbuckled straps sway with the motion.
Lorelei: It's time I said goodbye to my dear little musical note.
A line no one expects, bringing on a shocked lull to their conversation.
Valentina: How ... unexpected. I'm glad to hear it; only why now? I thought you were worried about her condition.
Lorelei: Of course, I love my little musical note! Every musical note!
Lorelei: That's why I mustn't play favorites. There are so many other musical notes that need help. Isn't that right, Mama? Papa?
Semmelweis: Do you both intend to continue discussing this as if I'm not even here? I haven't decided to go with anyone.
Lorelei: No one intends to decide for you, my little musical note. You're free—you always have been. Free to help whoever you want.
Lorelei: Oh, Papa, why have you tapped my shoulder? Out of time, so soon? Ah, of course, we must leave right away!
Lorelei: Sorry, my little musical note. Sorry, Valentina. I must leave you.
Lorelei: The "Flood" is coming. I need to gather everyone, or else we'll be swept apart.
Lorelei: I thank you both for bringing me here. Godspeed to you both. Until we meet again … in another world.
With the splash of her steps in the puddles, Lorelei turns and walks toward her riverbank.
Valentina: I see. Well, then the only question remains whether you are still intent on reviewing your options.
Valentina: My offer stands. My hand is outstretched, if you'll take it.
Semmelweis: ...
A sigh and a flicker of resolve form on her lips as Semmelweis locks eyes with the vampire before her.
Semmelweis: I've said I'll consider it—but first you need to tell me how to complete the transformation.
Semmelweis: And I won't be wearing that mask.
Valentina: How long have I been waiting to hear you say those words? Wonderful, then you must accompany me to the opera house. Manus Vindictae should have control of it by now—there we will complete your transformation.
PART 2:
The hysteria of the era, all the twisted bodies, chaotic scenes, and feverish minds are hidden behind the golden curtain.
Valentina: Something's happened to Heinrich. He wouldn't be this late.
Valentina: I do hope he's alive. I had intended for him to help me show the sincerity of Manus Vindictae's offer, after all.
Semmelweis: Could be that your Heinrich's been shot in some alley on his way here. Given the state Vienna's in, I wouldn't be surprised.
Semmelweis: Forget him. I don't have time to spare on your demonstrations of sincerity. Can we just begin?
Valentina: Tsk. So impatient, my pet. You'll soon have more time than you know what to do with.
Madam Lindsay: Begin what, exactly? Miss Semmelweis?
A familiar voice cuts in over the comm, tinged with anger.
Madam Lindsay: I think we can skip the explanation. I warned you again and again, and you still chose to ignore my orders.
Madam Lindsay: You leave me no choice.
A scarlet light flashes from Semmelweis's chest, radiating out a blast of intense pain.
Madam Lindsay: I'll be submitting a full report shortly, including a record of this conversation, and the part where your repeated insubordination earned you a Scorching Heart strike.
Madam Lindsay: I'm sorry it has to end this way, Semmelweis.
Semmelweis: Lindsay! You ...
As Semmelweis collapses from the pain, Valentina kneels beside her, a teasing smile on her lips as she rests a hand over the smoldering spot on Semmelweis's chest.
Valentina: Calm yourself. I won't let this be your end. It isn't time to exit the stage just yet.
Valentina: Hmm? What?
For the first time, her smile fades. Genuine surprise flickers over her gray face.
Valentina: You've already completed your transformation …
Black mist billows out from Semmelweis's chest, erasing even the acrid scent of scorched flesh.
As it clears, Semmelweis stares up with a look of similar surprise and confusion.
Madam Lindsay: What?
Semmelweis: What … just happened? Valentina?
Valentina: Don't give me that look. I'm afraid this isn't the surprise I had intended for you.
Valentina: Someone else must have helped you complete the process. But who?
???: Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt,
The familiar melody sounds from somewhere close.
Valentina: You've been carrying the shell with you this whole time? Of course … such an obvious answer.
Valentina: Lorelei can hear you through that shell; it stands to reason that you would be able to hear her too.
Valentina: I wouldn't count on it getting anything else from it. You've used up all her blessings.
Semmelweis: Lorelei … she was helping me all this time?
Valentina: Think back. When's the last time you spoke with your inner voice?
Semmelweis: ... Bella?
Semmelweis: Are you there?
Her irksome shadow is silent—not even a twitch of thought or muscle. As if she never existed at all.
Valentina: After being exposed to Lorelei's song for so long, even a thick-skulled rock like you would embrace a little emotion.
Valentina: I suppose congratulations are in order. We walk the same path now, you and I.
Semmelweis: That's it? That was easier than I expected.
Semmelweis feels for the fading burn in her chest, struggling to find its familiar pain.
Semmelweis: Lindsay, you're still listening, aren't you?
Madam Lindsay: I have nothing more to say to a traitor. And I see no reason to listen to one, either.
Semmelweis: Won't you let me explain? Just a few words from someone who wandered, trying to survive—trying to find a future.
Madam Lindsay: ...
Semmelweis: Your "Laplace research updates" on my condition were always just to placate me. I've known that for a while.
Semmelweis: And yes, I freely admit it—I've weighed my options between the Foundation and Manus Vindictae to determine which offered me the best chance at survival.
Semmelweis: I admit, once I learned that being the Infected would grant me arcane skills, I began to lean toward Manus Vindictae.
Madam Lindsay: And now you're a full-fledged arcanist.
Madam Lindsay: So what? Are you about to have a change of heart and beg to come back to the Foundation?
Semmelweis: It seems like the right thing to do. Are you saying my little heartfelt confession failed to move you even a little?
Semmelweis: But if you refuse, then it seems there is only one way left—to turn to Manus Vindictae. Setting all other benefits aside, I would have preferred the Foundation. What a shame.
Madam Lindsay: Hmph. A fully transformed Infected ... I know that the researchers at Laplace would love to run a full analysis on you. Fine.
Madam Lindsay: More than anything else, I can't have a powerful asset like you join Manus Vindictae. Insubordinate or not.
Semmelweis: I knew you'd see reason. Lindsay, I've got another request. Will you hear me out?
Madam Lindsay: One. You get one.
Semmelweis: I want your permission to bring in a group of refugees and an arcanist with a unique ability.
Madam Lindsay: I'm going to need a justification. You know I can't authorize entry for unknown individuals ...
Semmelweis: This arcanist has the ability to suppress the Storm Syndrome, and those refugees are leverage to convince her to join us.
Semmelweis: And maybe it doesn't matter to you, but she's the reason I'm still alive. Leaving her to die would ruin my mood. I'm sure you wouldn't want that. Think of her as a friend of mine—or better yet, family.
Madam Lindsay: I almost thought you'd be harder to understand after becoming an arcanist; seems I was wrong.
Madam Lindsay: Maybe it's a good thing, letting a bit of arcanist passion temper that cold, calculating heart of yours.
Madam Lindsay: Go. Help your friend. We'll deal with the paperwork later. But you must return to the evacuation point before the "Storm" hits, and you will be facing punishment for this insubordination.
The comm goes fizzles out, leaving two vampires standing in a silent opera house.
Then, the quiet is broken with a clap, then another, in a mocking cadence.
Valentina: What a touching heart-to-heart. So, that's it then; you won't be joining me after all?
Semmelweis: It's a simple calculation. Between you and the Foundation, the latter offers me a better deal. Besides, you didn't exactly hold up your end of the bargain with my transformation, did you?
Valentina: That deadpan wit of yours—it's sharper than any wooden stake, you know? I may just cry.
Valentina: Ah well, I lost to Lorelei this round. But I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again very soon.
Semmelweis: I sincerely hope your feeling is wrong.
Valentina: When you've lived as long as I have, feelings like these tend to be … uncannily accurate. Believe me.
Two black clouds drift out of the opera house in opposite directions.
PART 3:
Semmelweis runs along the river of the "Storm." Her new vampiric body feels light, powerful. No more checking the mirror—she knows now she's survived.
She has time to do more than just stay alive. She can finally pursue something beyond survival.
And at last, she arrives.
There is no concern with finding Lorelei. The girl in restraints stands atop a raised platform, surrounded by a halo of color—the only calm amidst the chaos along the river.
Semmelweis: Lorelei, what are you—
But things are never that simple.
The platform beneath Lorelei is lifted by her believers—a human scaffold, raising her to a perilous height.
Her song continues, holding open a small, still void in a sea of paint. But the tide is rising, and that void is about to collapse into a whirlpool.
Semmelweis: I need you to come with me, Lorelei.
Semmelweis: I secured us a place with the Foundation—for you and your friends. No one will be reversed.
Lorelei: Little musical note?
Semmelweis: Yes, it's me. We've done it. Think of it as a reward for helping me. Please, come back to the Foundation with me—
Lorelei: Mama, look! The little black horse has come! It really rode in on the "Flood"!
Semmelweis: Ah … the joys of arcanist conversation … Lorelei, are you still in there?
Lorelei: Come, little horse, little horse, hop up and join us. Soon sorrow and sadness will fill this place. Join our prayer.
Semmelweis: The "Storm" is clouding your mind, your judgment. At least you're not getting violent like the others, little victories, right?
Semmelweis: Snap out of it. We're out of time. If you don't, I'll have to get rough.
Lorelei: Why won't you answer me? Is your heart already dead?
Lorelei: That's okay, my little musical note. We can still be friends; but let's stay here together for a little while.
COMBAT
Semmelweis: pant
Surprised to discover that even vampires can lose their breath climbing up a scaffolding, Semmelweis reaches the top of the platform and delicately grabs Lorelei's hand—only to yank her out from the crowd.
Semmelweis: It's Semmelweis! I'm not your horse or your "little musical note," understood?
Lorelei: Semmelweis?
Her singing halts. The believers scattered around her freeze, waiting for her to continue.
Semmelweis: You're finally back.
Semmelweis: I need you to get these people moving. We can still make it to the Foundation.
Time is tight, but it'll work. As long as she holds Lorelei's hand, the others will follow.
She can save her own life—and the one who gave her hope.
Alive and in good spirits—what could be better?
Lorelei: Little—Semmelweis? Slow down, you're walking too fast. There are stones in the path ahead.
Is she still riding the rush of battle? Or is this some kind of delayed exhilaration from being reborn?
Semmelweis keeps adjusting her pace to match Lorelei and the others. Slower … slower ...
Slower, slower, slower, slower, slow—
Her consciousness fades into black mist.
Valentina: You really should learn to trust me. My intuitions are always on point.
Valentina: Don't worry, little Lorelei. Our pet's just a little overexcited from her transformation. She'll be right as rain, soon enough.
Valentina: No, no—there's nothing you can do with that cloud of mist. It's better you leave her to me.
Valentina: And you'd best not waste her goodwill. Otherwise, well … I suspect it would "really ruin her mood."
Valentina: The Foundation's that way. Keep going, and you might just make it.
When Semmelweis wakes, she's lying flat with Valentina peering down. The back of her head feels stiff and cold.
Valentina: Finally awake? Sleep well? A thousand pardons—I couldn't find a fluffy pillow for you.
Semmelweis: You knew this would happen.
Valentina: Perhaps I did, but then again, I didn't hold up my end of the bargain, did I?
There's no time for another pointless debate. Semmelweis scrambles up to her feet, intent on running to the Foundation.
Valentina: You won't make it, I'm afraid. Now, only I can shelter you from the "Storm." Will you come with me?
One simple sentence stops her cold. She turns, trying to pierce the smiling old vampire with her glare.
Semmelweis: No mask.
Valentina: Do you see me wearing one?
Semmelweis: sigh
Valentina: You were much more entertaining when you were desperate to survive, Semmelweis.
Valentina: I've already sent the guards away. Will you please just relax?
Semmelweis: I've completely lost contact with the Foundation, sitting in a secret Manus Vindictae safehouse, riding out the "Storm" with one of their vampires …
Semmelweis: Could I still report back to the Foundation? What would I tell them—how much would I tell them? Even if I begged Madam Lindsay to cover for me … Would she?
Semmelweis: sigh
Valentina: The offer still stands, Semmelweis.
Semmelweis: And I still refuse it. Whatever punishment awaits me with the Foundation will still be worth it compared to the cost of joining Manus Vindictae.
Valentina: Then forget Manus Vindictae. Whether he's lying dead in some alleyway or simply ditched us, Heinrich won't be coming here. Nor will anyone else for that matter. I'd say our deal has been broken—unilaterally.
Valentina: First, you, then, Heinrich. This Vienna trip seems to be one betrayal after another.
Valentina: But enough of that; I'm inviting you into something else entirely—consider it an afternoon tea party for vampires only. So far, it's just the two of us.
Semmelweis: And what do I stand to gain from being your partner?
Valentina: Did you expect something in return when you helped our little Lorelei? You risked everything for her safety, purely out of goodwill.
Valentina: Won't you spare just a tenth of that goodwill for me? Be my friend?
Semmelweis: Helping someone like Lorelei makes me happy. That's what I get out of it. Being friends with you … I'm not sure if that would bring me anything close to joy.
Valentina: So full of hate. What if I were to disappear right now—would that make you feel better?
Semmelweis: Watching someone vanish into the "Storm" before my eyes would do nothing to improve my mood. So no, please don't.
Valentina: And what does it matter? Whether the "Storm" takes us back ten years or a hundred, there's likely to be a version of me there—only short a few years.
Valentina: For the world, and for me … it isn't so much of a loss.
Semmelweis: What a wonderfully novel hypothesis. I'm sure Laplace would name it after you in their next report.
Valentina: So—back to our tea party. Are you sure you don't want to stay and join me?
Semmelweis: You say it's an invitation; I assume I have the right to decline?
Valentina: Naturally, my dear. But there's still some time yet before the "Storm" ends—so I hope you won't mind my trying to convince you.
Semmelweis: So this is the price of survival—enduring the nagging of a vampire in some dusty old place.