We built this city on hopes and dreams. We carved her towers from the marrow of this layer, covered her bare walls with his flayed flesh, and gave her a beating heart that sang louder than ours ever could.
We never named her, her streets, we never gave her a name. She didn't need one, because all of us knew her name in our hearts.
We bled for this city just as much as the shadows bled for us, and we shared together a fire we believed would last forever.
But in the end, it did not matter.
Now, let us bleed for her.
This city could not save not a single life, not the many who died outside of her, or the many who died inside of her, but it was here that we remembered what it was to live. Truly live. For that, we will always love her. For that, we die without regret.
She will not die a colorless husk. All-mother grant me strength, for If I can even paint a single patch red before I must go. I will. Let me paint this town red. One final time. Let me paint.