Two days later, a veritable sea of people gathered at the pit I had dug. Probably around three thousand elves and various creatures from all corners of the world.

  Elvindor's final wish was entirely in character: he forbade crying. He asked that everyone laugh, drink, and celebrate his passing. But there wasn't a hint of joy in the crowd. Everyone stood with stony faces, frantically holding back tears. Trying to squeeze out some joy when you're burying a piece of history is a real treat.

  Mira was nearby. She sat on a bench, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. Her gaze was glued to the empty square of earth, and it reflected such a profound greyness that it made me uneasy. Lucia and Riza stood at the very front. Riza's massive black wings were pressed tightly to her back, as if she were trying to shrink down and become invisible.

  Then the speeches began. Loved ones were called up to say something meaningful. They all stepped up to the edge, whispered something, and shook their heads. We, however—me, Mira, Lucia, and Riza—stayed put. Words were unnecessary.

  In the end, we gathered in an old gazebo on the edge of the hill. Lucia silently hugged Riza, who couldn't stop trembling. Mira just sat staring into space, as if her mind had once again vacated her body.

  I was the only one who couldn't plunge into this shared grief. I felt... nothing at all. No memory means no pain. And that felt like my most terrible crime.

  — Do you remember anything at all? — Riza suddenly asked, lifting her red, bloodshot eyes to look at me. — Even a single moment? How you met him? How he, an ancient old man, fussed over you, teaching you the basics? How we all... how we spent those evenings together?

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  I looked at my palms.

  — I don't remember. I'm sorry.

  Riza gave a bitter chuckle.

  — The Zenhald I knew died to me a long time ago. That man was kind. He took me in. He showed me that life isn't just about battles. He was my teacher, my best friend... The person I wanted to emulate.

  Her voice suddenly turned as cold as ice.

  — But the creature standing before me now is something else. And I will never, do you hear me, never forgive you for what you've done over all these years. So much blood, so many ruined lives... And you simply "don't remember." What a convenient curse, isn't it, Zenhald? Washing away all your sins with simple oblivion.

  I silently reached into my pocket and fished out the yellowed envelope.

  — Elvindor asked me to give this to you.

  I placed the letter on the table between us. Riza froze. With disbelief, almost with fear, she picked it up, opened it, and began to read. Her lips moved, her eyes darting across the lines.

  — Elvindor... — she exhaled, and her shoulders slumped.

  She looked up at me with a gaze full of unbearable bitterness.

  — Do you know what he wrote? He asks me to forgive you. He says that you are a victim yourself. But I can't, Zen. I can't forgive you for what you did to Liara. She meant so much to you. You two knew each other for... an eternity. And you...

  She suddenly gave a faint smile through a fresh wave of tears.

  — And you also managed to break my granddaughter's heart. For a whole month she wouldn't stop talking about you...

  Riza stood up. Her wings snapped open with a loud whoosh, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  — I don't know who is standing in front of me. A teenager? A monster? An empty void? I don't want to know.

  She pushed off sharply and soared into the sky, flying away from the hill. Nothing stirred inside me. Only that very void she spoke of became slightly more tangible.

  Mira continued to stare off into space.