"Herr Silber, I've come back to speak with you. Show yourself!"

Papers were scattered all across the floor of the observatory. Broken instruments and shattered glass littered the floor as well. Emil's heart sank at the sight of it—the Gustav Silber he knew and admired would never leave the workplace in such an atrocious state.

Could someone have broken in? This could not have been the professor's doing, Emil tried to convince himself.

He began walking up the stairs to the second floor, still calling out for some kind of response, "Anyone? Hello?"

A female's voice came from above him. "Oh, God, my God."

Emil immediately ran up the remaining steps, following the direction from where the brief sound had resonated.

Camilla Silber was face down on the floor between an overturned wooden desk and a cracked window. When she opened her eyes and saw Emil, he knew it was her. She had the same crystal blue glow in those eyes as her mother.

"Camilla, are you alright?" Emil ran to her side and kneeled by her.

Her clothes were dirty, and there were some bruises on her appendages. Her wavy, light brown hair looked fairly clean, albeit messy. She tried pushing herself up, but fell backward and was caught by Emil.

"Do I . . ." she said, a dazed look covering her demeanor, ". . . do I know you? Wait a minute, I know you, don't I?"

Emil nodded to her. "Yes. I've known you quite a while, young lady. Relax, you're going to be fine."

She reached out and put her hand on his forehead, then his nose, then between his lips. Emil took her wrist and moved her hand down onto her lap.

Camilla waited a moment, then asked him, "So? Can you tell me your name?"

"Emil. Emil Weiss," he said, while trying to mask his own distress. "Can you perhaps tell me your name?"

"Hm, my name? Why, you just said it, didn't you? It's Milla . . . Camilla? . . . Camilla."

Emil nodded. "And your last name?"

She said nothing, but looked out the window. The clouds were parting once more, letting a portion of the setting daylight into the room.

Finally, she looked back at Emil and said, "I've known you since I was a child. You—You're a friend. You are Emil, you are my friend."

"How about we take a walk?" Emil suggested, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.

"Where are we going? I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid I do not know where I am."

"That's okay. I'm taking you outside. You can get some fresh air and we can talk more."

She stumbled at first, then got her bearings. With no sign of Gustav anywhere, the only thing Emil could do in such a perplexing scenario was to provide help to Camilla and maybe ask some further questions if she regained her memory.

He lead her out onto the deck of the second floor. It was a quiet place that overlooked a vast, open field, and the sky above a perfectly positioned display for an astronomer's nightly observations.

"Silber. That's my last name. I am Camilla Silber. I know I have been here before."

"Good. That's right," Emil said, standing closer to her as they both looked outward.

The sun was half obscured by the horizon as the cicadas performed their final overture. The clouds, half orange and half purple, gathered around it like curtains closing on a stage.

"Please don't hate my father, Emil."

Emil was almost at a loss for words. "Why—erm, Camilla, where is this coming from? Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I came here to see him. I just wanted to see him. I swear, that's all."

"So?" Emil could feel his heart throbbing in anticipation.

"He said he was leaving Austria. Not only that, but . . ." Camilla took a deep breath and pulled her hair back, ". . . he told me he wasn't coming back, and that I should be married to you, Emil."

Emil did not have a response to this. He gazed once more out at the sunset.

Camilla continued, "I told him I would not do it, and that I only wished to be with him and my mother. Then, I can only remember seeing you. Now here we are."

"Camilla, your father has done nothing to make me hate him," Emil said. "I just want the same thing you do. That is to return him to safety."

"He has gone mad. I am afraid there is little which can be done." She sounded lost; as if she had already let go. "He said he will be at the origin point. I do not know what it means, but—"

"The origin point," Emil interjected. "Leaving Austria? The key! It could mean . . ."

Camilla looked to Emil, confused. Thoughts were racing through his mind, seemingly creating a new hypothesis.

"You know what this means?" she asked.

"We must return to your house," Emil said. "Your mother said she once lived in Berlin with your father. That was before they came to Austria. Before they had you."

"Why would my father return to Berlin?"

Emil could not fully make sense of the idea, but his gut was telling him that the home Paula said was demolished might still exist. If he could get the key, it would be possible to know for sure.

"Camilla, when we go back to your home, I will speak with your mother. Then, you must stay there."

She shook her head and reprimanded Emil. "No, Emil, I am going with you. Wherever you may go."

"But Camilla, your health! I suspect you may have had a seizure. The amnesia, the sudden loss of consciousness—I cannot be looking after you."

Camilla held her head in shame. "I understand. I just wanted to be there for you. You're . . ."

She began to sob. ". . .You're the only friend I've ever had."

Emil's eyes widened. He grabbed her, hugged her tight, and reassured her. "Let's do this together, then."