[Seasonal Event] Table for one, please

All of the glass in the house shatters as Wessex's head bows. The floorboards are pulled up and all of the nails holding the wooden panels in place form a needle-point oval around the ascended, their eroded and tetanus-filled tips pointed directly at her face. They will have their answers if they need to pull it from the coils of her brain themselves. They will arrange her thoughts like so many shredded pieces of paper, a love letter they are dying to read one last time even after a fit of pique renders it into a million pieces. The nails hover. The silent is palpable, the air cold, but none of them truly feel it. The front door bangs open and cold as a breeze wanders in. The last remaining few luxere look up, bellowing a question into the night. To stay? Or go? ".... how ." A single voice asks, the legion suddenly giving rise to one word. LONGNIGHT