Toss me to the curb because I am trash. The very first thing I did after beating Pyre is write this because I want to marry Jodariel that bad. Just... this whole game gave me so many feelings in the way that only Supergiant Games can deliver and now I have several new crushes, the biggest being on our Local Giant Demon Mom. When everyone gets back to the Commonwealth, Jodi and The Reader get married and adopt 1,000 children.

Soft melancholy descended over the Blackwagon as the stars turned away from the summit of the mountain, taking with it the glimmer of the Shimmer-Pool and the memory of the Rite that had earned Rukey his freedom. The hours after the Liberation Rite are a quiet affair, drenched in fatigue and sorrow and the slightest hint of hope. For Jodariel it seemed, as she sat before the campfire, that the quiet air was just a touch more bitter.

The Reader hung back in the shadow of the Blackwagon, Book clutched to her chest, debating whether the Demon would be adverse to some company. It had been her after all that had anointed the last of Jodi's longtime companions to return in glory to the Commonwealth. Chances were good that The Reader was the last person Jodariel wanted to see.

Just as her nerve gave out and she turned to creep back into the wagon Jodariel spoke.

"I know you're there Reader," she said. "Come. Sit with me a while."

The Reader froze. Damn Demons and their sharp senses. She took a breath to steel herself and walked to the fire before the whim could leave her, though she still hugged the Book to her chest like a shield.

Jodariel didn't take her eyes off the dancing flames when the Reader edged into the circle of light, and the Reader couldn't help but take advantage of Jodi's diverted attention to inspect her.

Jodi's large shoulders curved inward as she rested her elbows on her knees, though her posture was steady as it ever was despite the exhaustion the Reader knew the Rites brought upon her. Firelight gleamed off the curves of her great horns and turned the straw blonde of her hair a fiery orange. Jodi's bright eyes flick up just long enough to catch the Reader staring, and even in the glow of the fire it was easy to see the flush creep up the woman's neck as she darted her gaze away and sat down sharply on the other end of the log.

Silence lay heavy for a long moment as the fire grew ever lower. Jodariel reached down, picked a log from the pile beside her, and tossed it into the flames with a shower of sparks. As she stoked it back to blazing with a stray stick she finally spoke.

"Strange, isn't it? How the flames burn themselves out overtime, and yet the Pyres must be smothered by force. It makes you wonder, if neither Triumvirate did anything to quench the fire, would it burn eternally? Or just until the exiles that guard it perish?"

The Reader gave thought to this, stroking a thumb down the spine of the Book in her hands. The Book had revealed much to her about the nature of the Rites, but much of it was still a mystery.

"I think," she said eventually, "that if the Pyres burned themselves out there wouldn't be much point to the Rites. Why defend something you knew was going to die anyway?"

"Interesting point Reader," Jodi answered, still staring into the depths of the flames. "Though if you did not know, would you fight for it still? Would it be worth the sacrifice even if it did burn itself out in the end?"

Silence fell once more. With Jodi's dry voice it would have been easy to miss the double meaning, but The Reader had spent enough time around her to know when she was trying to imply.

The Plan. Volfred's Plan. The Plan that wavered precariously between success and failure now that the stars were beginning to fade. It was hard to tell if those that involved themselves in it would succeed, or crash and burn. And now Hedwyn and Rukey were both an important part of it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The world was ironic that way.

"I'm actually not very fond of fire," The Reader said instead. The Plan was only just beginning to come together; judgement on its success would come later. "For such a dependent thing its powers of destruction are unbridled." She reached over and laid a light hand on her left arm, swathed in bandages. Even after all these months the scars still itched. "Even if I could participate in the Rites I'd be too terrified to cast myself into the flames."

Now she could feel Jodariel's gaze on her, tracing the bandaged limb up to the scar that crept up her neck and the side of her face from the collar of her cloak. She fidgeted. Jodariel had seen the burns when they were still fresh, when they had found the Reader half dead in the sand. It didn't make the scrutiny any easier to bear.

"What did they burn?" Jodi asked, softer than the Reader had ever heard.

"My books," the Reader replied, laughing softly at how silly it sounded out loud. "They burned my books. I tried to save them but… paper isn't the only thing that catches." She hugged the Book even tighter to her chest as though to press the shape into her bones. "They were all I had…" she continued, seemingly unable to stop herself from letting it all out. "Growing up alone in the midst of the war books were the only things that could help me escape, if only for a little while.

The man who taught me kept a secret collection and every week he would let me read through as many as I could. But one day I went and he was gone, along with his books. Cast out, probably, though I have no idea if he yet lives. But he had left me a note telling me where he stashed his collection. I looked after it for years, adding to it with whatever I could smuggle in under the noses of the guards… until they caught me and, well, you know the rest. All that knowledge, all those stories, nothing but ash."

She took a breath, wiping her eyes of the errant tears that had spilled over. The pain was still fresh, even now. It had taken but a few minutes for her entire life to go up in flames.

A hand rested on her back. Jodariel's gaze, when she caught it, wasn't filled with pity, but rather sympathy.

"To fall fighting for what you love is an honorable way to go. And you have not fallen entirely. The books are gone but you live still. Stories never die so long as there is someone to tell them," she said.

"And what good does that do?" The Reader asked. Frustration welled in her chest at her own sorry state. "Out here, where every day is a struggle for survival, what good is a story? And in the Rites, where reading this Book makes me little more than a glorified spectator? I doubt my services are in much need now that Volfred is here."

The hand snatched at her chin, firmly enough that she could not wriggle out, but gently enough that Jodariel's claws did not leave a mark.

"Listen here Reader," Jodi growled. "Don't ever think that your presence here is less than needed. Volfred speaks highly of his own skills but it is you that has brought us this far. Had you not guided us out of the wastes we may still be wandering it." He eyes softened as she added, "And Hedwyn and Rukey would still be suffering alongside us."

"I never did thank you," she said, "for helping them earn their freedom."

"I couldn't let them stay here," the Reader replied softly, transfixed by the change that smoothed the hard lines from Jodi's face. "Not when there is so much they can still do. They deserved their freedom. As do you too."

Jodi hummed thoughtfully, brushing a thumb slowly across the Reader's chin to where the burn scar edged up over her jawbone. "Hedwyn always was an optimistic lad," she said. "I suppose I'm grateful he left before the stars began to fade. The knowledge that not all of us will escape would have crushed his spirit." She released her grip on the Reader's chin and gently ran her knuckles across the marred skin of her left cheek.

"Though his hope is fleeting a part of me holds onto it still," she continued. "That we'll all earn our freedom. And you, along with us."

Her hand drew away and it was like a spell was broken. The Reader instantly flushed a bright pink and turned away, trying to bury her face into the collar of her cloak, picking at the bandages of her left hand with flustered fingers. "Oh my," she tittered, "that- that's a very nice thing for you to say Jodariel, um… Thank you…"

Jodi chuckled, a low and rich sound scarce as rain in the desert. The Reader sought to commit every pitch to memory. "Go get your rest, Reader," she said. "You've earned it."

The Reader nodded and stood stiffly. She didn't think she'd be able to say anything more even if it didn't feel as though her heart had rocketed up into her throat. She mumbled an incoherent goodnight and wandered back to the Blackwagon, casting furtive glances back to the horned woman who had settled herself back into her vigil and nearing tripping over the first stairstep for her troubles.

Stumbling into the wagon's interior the walls were suddenly painted with a ghostly green glow. The shape of Sandra the Unseeing materialized from the ether and even without her sight it took her but a moment to pick up on the Reader's bashful aura.

"My, my," she chuckled, "has my lovely Reader gone and fallen in love?"

The glow of the Beyonder Crystal was swiftly smothered beneath a pillow.