- FADE IN:
- INT. FORGE - NIGHT
- The forge glows orange, flames bouncing off of the large metal shapes that dominate it.
- In the center of forge is an iron table, to which IOLA is bound.
- She is blindfolded, her large, dark wings held in vises that stretch out on either side of the table.
- THE BLACKSMITH, muscle-bound creature with a short, white beard and blueish wings stands above her, grasping a white-hot collar in his tongs.
- TWO OTHERS stand by the table, watching; one dressed in an immaculate pin-striped suit, his shoes gleaming like mirrors, the other in a strange, almost ancient-seeming military jacket - his hands glow pure white.
- The Blacksmith lowers the collar towards her neck.
- The muscles of her wings tremble as she feels the heat descending.
- The Blacksmith stops.
- THE BLACKSMITH
- Are you sure? Are you sure the Morning Star wants this?
- PIN-STRIPED MAN
- Are you afraid?
- THE BLACKSMITH
- We've never...killed...one of our own before.
- PIN-STRIPED MAN
- No one has ever betrayed us before.
- THE BLACKSMITH
- But to cut her off from Father?
- PIN-STRIPED MAN
- Watch your tongue. I'm getting sick of this, blacksmith--shall I?
- The Blacksmith shakes his head.
- PIN-STRIPED MAN
- Cut her off. Then take her and chain her in plain sight - so she can watch the mud drinkers she seems to love so much.
- The letters etched into the collar seem to slither with ancient darkness.
- The Blacksmith's hands tremble as he lowers the burning collar onto Iola's neck.
- She screams as metal burns into flesh, her wings spasming.
- IOLA
- Daddy!
- EXT. SKYSCRAPER ROOF - NIGHT
- The hum of machinery is gentle over the sounds of traffic in the streets far below; people rushing to be home with their families or join parties at the center of town.
- Iola, her once-beautiful wings tattered, sits on the roof, shivering.
- Her ankle is chained to the lightning rod, which rises from the center of the roof.
- She is thin, sick, a ghost of who she was.
- Along the wall at the edge of the roof are pasted hundreds of pictures - people from around the world, and under each, a flame hovers.
- She closes her eyes, and begins chanting.
- IOLA
- Lacrimosa, Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus.
- The chanting becomes singing - the haunting strains of Mozart's requiem.
- There is something unearthly and utterly captivating, about her voice.
- It is as if an entire orchestra is forming in the notes she breathes.
- She stops, placing her hands together, palms up, struggling, in some strange supplication.
- A flame ignites above her palms and she shakes with the exertion.
- She continues singing, her voice building, her body shaking - decaying so fast it is almost visible.
- In the distance the sounds of a massive crowd carry to the roof.
- CROWD
- 10, 9, 8, 7...
- Her song builds to the climax.
- CROWD
- 4, 3, 2, 1!
- Fireworks explode as the music climbs to the finale; the crowd cheers and the faces along the wall illuminated as the flames seem to glow brighter for a moment.
- She struggles to finish, almost whispering.
- IOLA
- Dona eis requiem, Amen.
- She falls backwards, wings disintegrating as she hits the ground, the flames snuffing themselves out one by one.
- She stares upward into the sky, lights bursting overhead and gasps - as if the collar is choking the life from her.
- Her breathing slows and her glowing eyes, flicker, the last flames to die.
- The faces from the pictures look over her as her eyelids close.
- The lights high above her spray her body in colored light as her broken feathers blow away, scattered across the city like so many ashes as the final notes of the requiem die.
- FADE TO BLACK.
If you're interested, listen to the Lacrimosa of Mozart's Requiem.
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