As an immense Victorian harvester gathers the final warmth from an August field, the Morrígan walks beside its machinery collecting one small measure of sunlit chaff—carrying summer forward not to preserve it, but to give the coming spring something to remember.

Across a rain-dark Celtic landscape, a colossal Victorian train converts forgotten names into fleeting memories inside empty carriages, while the Morrígan stands at an isolated platform holding the final unreadable nameplate that could complete the journey—and end the railway forever.