Musical theme 

"She ran straight towards the debris. Everything was still crackling and blazing with roaring blue flames but she just dash right into the chaos. I can...still hear her cries. When she tried to throw herself into the fire there was a man who tried to...grab her, but she flailed, she pushed him, escaped his grasp and threw herself on the ground. She was shrieking, crying her eyes out. She was...vainly trying to...seize the debris, hopelessly trying to reach for the burnt bodies of whoever was under... 

Knights finaly came to witness the horror... When they saw Lady Melisande, one of them managed to grab her and pulled her out of the ruins. She was...struggling like a fury...crying, and yelling so loud I could feel her pain bursting in my own heart. Her arms were burnt by her harrowing attempt to save someone from these carnage, but still, she was trying so hard to run back there that the knight had to carry her away. She burst into tears, and if he had not hold her I think she whould have fallen, crushed by the palpable agony she was breathing.

Then I saw him. The demon with the horned-helmet. It was as if time suddenly stopped. Everything was like a distant nightmare, lived from afar...the fire, the ruins, the chaos, the burnt bodies on the streets... The lady's voice echoed in my head for a very long time because I could shift my gaze on her. She was yelling threats at him while struggling against men who only tried to prevent her from running right into death. That...was...heart-breaking.

When the shadow of the demon faded I could still feel all the hatred, all the rage burning from the ruins...and the lady's agony made me feel so powerless. I wish I could have done something for her. Her whole body was shaking, convulsing in painful sobs...it was as if she was breathing thorns...clenching on that man's armor desperately. 

I could not...move. I was...in shock. My mind was so foggy at this moment. I just stood there and watch in awe. I saw them trying to convince her to be escorted in a safe place. She could barely stand, that small woman... But she did. She raised her chin and through her tears I could see the blue flames glowing in her eyes as she gave orders to these men. They grabbed a man... I don't know who, he was just lying there. I could only catch a glimpse of his long silver hairs. And they just took him away while the lady stood here watching the ruins. I think it was this man everyone talked about...Kudros Crendraven, the criminal? Well...they took him away to some place, I don't know where. And she...just remained there untill a tall man in an armor bearing the coat of arms of her House finaly came to her side and gently grabed her by the arm. And...that's it all..."

Lady Melisande was standing straight, eyes gazing at the altar of the Fury. She was dressed in black, wearing a mourning gown, the black veil cascading on her hairs. Her eyes was reddened by the all the tears she cried that night. Words have been sent to all the Houses of nobility, and all were invited to pray for the souls of those who was crually murdered this night.

The voice of Melisande had never been so emotionnal, cracked with grief, trembling as she was struggling to make the words escaped her lips.

She pauses, shaking as the glow in her eyes mirrored the horror she witnessed.

Her voice faded like a whisper and she closed her eyes, taking a deep painful breathe, caressing in a soothing gesture the peculiar necklace she was wearing.

Saying so her eyes brimmed with tears, which she wiped as she raised her chin, her voice still trembling with grief.

She gulped painfuly. She seemed overwhelmed by a stabbing pain, but kept going:

At her last words there was a firey glow in her eyes. She seemed bitter, sadness and hatred disfiguring her for a moment.

She seemed to spit on the name, her fingers clenching nervously on her gown as she held to this deafening anger.

She could not hold back the tears anymore, which rolled on her cheeks as her voice somehow gained strenght and confidence, carrying in her trembling tone all the horror of her grief and all the hatred ingrained in her soul. 

She chuckled bitterly, a laugh without any joy - only echoing as a crual irony.

The whisper was barely audible, but the fire blazing in her eyes had something mesmerizing, like a raging light burning inside the deepest darkness.

Whispers could be heard, but none would dare interfering such a sacred ceremony.

She pauses once more, catching her breathe. She seemed hesitant for a moment. She tried to meet the eyes of one of her surviving knight, before noding.

She gazed at each face she could see, before lifting up a beautiful ishgardian staff, crafted for ceremonial purposes. When she took it in her hands the jewel emitted a peculiar light, aether gathering around it as she spoke:

Aether was oddly dancing around her, emanating from the staff, contrasting with the black clothes she was wearing.

The aether was flowing, almost shaped like wings around her body, as she kneeled ceremonialy before the Fury's altar.

She rised, and the aether faded away like a peculiar illusion when she let the scepter laying on the floor near her.

She turned towards Halone's statue, made a few steps and joined her hands in prayer.