She appears on the balcony, perched on the railing, her old Celtic attire fluttering in the sea-sweet breeze. Normally, she wore more stylish, modern clothing, but whenever she visited this world, she found herself donning what she was wearing during the happiest moments of her life.

And the most sorrowful ones.

Coira's eyes are bright blue. Inhumanly so. Her hair full of waves, golden like wheat in the sun, and skin pale and creamy. She bears a resemblance to Mary Anne, but at the same time, she is a very different individual.

"So," she says, her voice thick with the same Scottish brogue Ruin possessed. "You did it, hmm?"