Agnes had spent eternities searching. The world of the dead had no map, and no bounds. She may as well have been searching the milky way for a rock--one that nobody had ever seen and had no direction.

And yet she would not give up. She simply replayed her memories, trying to hold onto her sense of self. Even if it meant losing her sanity, she would find Ingrid. And after several eternities.... her task came to a close.

In front of Agnes was an all too familiar tomb...

It was predictably small, but Ingrid had managed to make a mess out of the barren tomb: Gideon's portrait had been carefully removed from the wall, examined, and then smashed in a fit of rage, pieces of the frame and the canvas scattered around wildly. The coffin had been opened and the lid thrown aside.

Ingrid stood in the middle of this, or more accurately she kneeled by the door, grasping at the crossbar with fingers tinged with frostbite. She drew ragged, cold, desperate breaths. But of course she was not allowed to die.

Faintly, a specter of her brother had appeared. The same, familiar specter that had followed her for two years. “Having trouble?”

"... You won't even let me suffer in silence. Here to speak more red? More rope for me to hang myself with?"

"No... I'm here to tell you to let me go, Ingrid. Let all of 'this' go." Gideon pantomimed around the room. "There's no escaping from here unless you can at least do that--some mysteries aren't meant to be solved."

"... No. No, I can't do that." she answered. She felt like her hands were freezing shut around the bar. "I need to know. I need to know who did this, and who didn't... I won't ever have peace of mind if I don't. Physically I might exit this tomb, but mentally? I'll be here every time I close my eyes. Every time I look at my family. It's been like that ever since..."

Gideon looked sad at Ingrid’s answer, but had a slight smile for her usual stubbornness. “Since my death? I think you need to accept that there could be more truths than you think.”

He sat next to her. “Perhaps Fritz and Heinrich did do something that night. That doesn’t mean they never loved you. That they don’t love you. I think you’ll see that soon.”

"... How can I accept that? I can't bring myself to trust anything that's not in red anymore." she leaned her head against the cold door to the tomb, a few tears freezing on her face. "I want to. But I can't stop doubting."

"Maybe it's not them. Maybe I'm the vile one who can't love anymore. Today, I even went as far as to suspect Agnes... Agnes! Your own daughter, and I scrutinized every word out of her mouth!"

“... you will see. Believe it or not, there are some statements even stronger than red. You just have to listen to them with your heart.”

He then smiled, but it was more like the one he put on while he was alive. “And that ‘Gideon’ up there—he’s not me. It’s somebody’s version of me. The truth is there are no such thing as ghosts. When somebody dies, all that’s left are the memories.”

Ominously, he began to fade at that statement. She couldn't do anything more except stare at her brother fading, wondering if this could be another trick. Maybe even one she was playing on herself.

Agnes quietly approached the tomb. She raised her hand to knock, but heard footsteps approach behind her.

“Uncle Fritz… ?”

Somehow he had caught up to her. More accurately, he tracked her--knowing her better than she probably suspected. He had spent years reading over and adapting her stories, which by some extension were the most private parts of her soul.

Despite being in the world of the dead, Fritz found himself heavily shivering in the storm. This was without a doubt no longer the unfeeling world of Limbo. “I suppose… she’s in there? Good job.” He nodded at his niece.

Fritz stepped over to the tomb and placed his head on it. He let out a ragged breath before speaking.

“Ingrid? Can you hear us?”

On the other side, Ingrid felt a brief feeling of warmth and life. And she once again unset the crossbar, as she had done many times before. “Are you really there? Am I hearing voices now?” She muttered weakly.

“Aunt Ingrid!” Agnes called out and followed behind her uncle, after hearing Ingrid’s voice. “Yes! We’re here! Finally...”

“... why? Why would you come here? There’s no way out of here.”

"Isn't it obvious?" Agnes sighed, though it was probably only heard by Fritz. "I'm here to save you! Get you out of there! Y'know, all that sort of stuff." She smiled wide, happy to be within reach of her goal.

Quietly, Ingrid opened the door. Agnes and Fritz stepped inside, getting only the slightest reprieve from the cold storm. The family embraced each other, not thinking about escape for a moment. And then slowly the reality of their situation set in.

"... There is no exit." Ingrid voiced what she'd been thinking for an eternity. "I can't leave if the crossbar isn't in place, and I can't open the door when it is. I’m sorry, you came here to save a dead woman.”

It was truly futile. The ‘solution’ to the imposter’s death would do them no good, and all the extra red they got out of it only condemned Ingrid further. There was no way out of the tomb that would allow the crossbar to stay in place.

Well, there was one way. Fritz knew that well, and he knew he had felt that he came here for a reason.

“There is a solution,” he said. “A way for Ingrid to leave, I mean. If all we have to do is put the crossbar in place after she walks out of the tomb...” Fritz walked deeper into the tomb and stood by Gideon’s coffin, “Someone just has to stay and close it behind her. And it should be someone with no chance of living anyway.”

"Wait... Uncle? You don't mean...?"

Ingrid stared at her brother, not knowing this side of him. "... Why are you doing this? Fri- Friedrich, I... This isn't just death. You don't know what you're getting into. And I..."

She coughed, tearing up. "I deserve it. Even now, I can't get rid of it. I can't stop doubting you killed my- our brother. So maybe I deserve to just stay shut in here alo-."

“You deserve it?” Fritz shouted. “I can’t remember the last good thing I did. For the last few years, all I’ve done is lie to my family, make a shit show, and let me son drown in a sea of guilt. If anyone deserves this, it’s me.”

His face was tight with fury like it had been every time they argued, but there was an underlying warmth deep beneath it. His expression softened, as he took off his sunglasses and let a smile shine through.

“But...this isn’t a competition about who’s the least deplorable person...I want to do this. I want to do something truly selfless before I bleed to death. So please, Ingrid...” He clenched his fist and slammed it into the stone wall. He averted his eyes, which grew hard with resolve.

“Get the fuck out...before I change my mind.”

"Uncle... I didn't search and search endlessly to abandon Ingrid here. I certainly wouldn't be satisfied with leaving you behind instead." Agnes frowned and shook her head.

"I know Aunt Ingrid is smart, but maybe- no, surely if we all put our minds together...! There has to be some sort of solution we can figure out... One that gets us all out of here!" She stomped her foot, making a somewhat loud clack with her heel. It wasn't all that imposing or threatening, but she was trying her best.

"... I love you." Fritz said to Ingrid.

She looked down on the ground and hugged him. They had both thought long enough about this--there was no other way. "I love you too."

...

[Scene Music]

Together, Ingrid and Agnes ran through the storm. Ingrid’s futility had completely gone away, replaced by complete determination. Fritz’s sacrifice would not go to waste. And finding the way back up would be much easier than finding their way here. There was no time to waste…

No, ‘time’ was in fact all they had.

[Scene Music]Banger warning]

Fritz was terrified on the inside as the door closed, but he kept his brave face on. If he did this, he would be here forever--in the truest sense of the word. It wouldn’t even begin to make up for his sins, so how could he even say it was worth it?

The decision was ultimately made before he even came down here. So without even thinking, he simply moved the crossbar back into the brackets. It was a start.

Fritz’s tears splattered onto the stone floor as he stared at the crossbar secured into the brackets. They were not tears of futility, but enlightenment. For the first time, he understood Gideon’s fixation.

“This really is a perfect closed room, you bastard.” He laughed through his tears.

And then quietly, he picked up a piece of stone from the concrete ground that had been torn up. He went to the walls of the tomb, and began to write. He would continue to do this until all the walls and floor were filled with his chalky works, and then he would start over again and again.

…

…

Fritz quietly sat against the wall. The cold didn’t even bother him any longer--it was simply part of his existence. He went to pick up his ‘writing utensil’ again, but could not. His body was fading into ash, ‘escaping’ from the tomb.

Second death…? But I had so much more to write...

And finally he would move from this world to the one beyond.