A week later, Leo and Tomasso sat together in the guild’s Common Room. Tomasso had kindled a fire, but it did not warm Leo. There was an empty hollowness inside him that could not be mended.

The events of past week were a distressing mystery to him. He remembered nothing.

What had happened to Gianna? Was she dead? Lost? Had she fled the Guild? Was she angry with Leo?

The possibilities abounded. He craved closure. He knew Enzo did too, but Enzo was elsewhere, brooding in private. He was always a very private man.

“Just tell me what happened,” he said to Tomasso. It was the third time he’d broached the subject. Each time he was more persistent than the last. “Where were we? What happened to our memories? Who was our client?”

“I — I can't tell you. I’m bound to secrecy, and even if I weren't — I really don't know. I'm sorry, Leo. But I… I fear the worst. I fear Gianna…”

“Is dead.” It pained him to say it; the word felt so terribly final.

Tomasso nodded sadly. “Yes. Mourn her… grieve for her. But you must move on — it’s what she would want. I'll give you space…”

He laid a hand on Leo's shoulder and squeezed it. Then he repaired to his office, leaving Leo alone with his thoughts.

Dead. The word still hung in the air like a bad stench. How could Gianna of all people be dead? The girl had more lives than a cat. How many times had she defied the odds and escaped death? It was beyond counting.

Still, the facts led to the same inescapable conclusion.

As he sat there, mired in his grief, a sound stirred behind them. He did not turn to look. One of the other adventurers, he thought, returning to the guild after late night debauchery.

But that was not who it was.

A small hand settled on his back. Her hand.

“Hi, Lee.”

Author's note: See below!