Venice, Italy.

"Do you think she'll be there?"

"Dante, we haven't seen her for months. Metz said her training would take a while." Sophie sighed, glancing up at her mentor.

"Still, they can't keep her from the conference can they?" Dante turned concern and worry plastered over his face. He'd worn the same expression ever since Zhalia had left. He hadn't been able to contact her, except through Metz. Even then, it seemed as though the replies that returned had been forced or fake.

"Dante, please stop pacing," Lok groaned rubbing his eyes, "it makes me and Sophie nervous too. I'm sure she's fine."

Dante turned and frowned, glancing towards the door, as though waiting for her to walk right through it. He sighed.

"I hope so."

Foundation Headquarters, New York.

Dante slowly unpacked his belongings for the weekend from his case. He turned each of them over, placing his clothes in the wardrobe and spare shoes under the bed. The room itself was nice, but impersonal, everything white, almost clinical. He placed his hands in his pockets as he sat down, removing their contents to comfort him.

From one, he brought all of his amulets. He held each of them, running his fingers over their smooth, cold sides. He lined them up before him, staring at them. This was the man he let everybody else see. His titans, his spoils of war. He was a strong seeker, capable of many titans, having won or found each and every one of them. A smile tinged his lips faintly, but he remembered how he had lost one, one most precious.

From the other, two objects were laid down. The first, a thin black scarf, wrapped around the second. As he unravelled it, memories flooded back to him, of this scarf and the woman who had worn it. As he reached the end, the titan he had concealed within it tumbled out. He stared at it for a few moments. Gareon.

He remembered their trade, a vow that the first titan they had received would be switched. They'd planned it for ages. It was so that each of them could better understand the other. As he traced the outline of the gem, he remembered his Solwing, and how much he missed it. He knew it was safe, with her, but he couldn't suppress the feeling of his loneliness, and how she must feel. He had Lok and Sophie, but as far as he knew, she had no-one. Not even her oldest friend.

He sighed. It was never meant to be like this. Metz had come too soon, whisking her away, before she could teach him. He lifted the amulet, his last piece of her, and pressed his lips against it, murmuring her name softly.

"Ah, Dante."

As Dante stepped into the conference hall, Metz stood up, beaming. It was good to see him healthy; after all of the time he'd spent teetering on the half-brink of death.

"We were beginning to wonder where you were."

"Well, I'm here now," he grinned, "I hope you didn't start without me." Dante climbed a few steps to his seat beside Sophie and Lok. They smiled, and he acknowledged them. He glanced around at the wide, semi-circular, staggered seating. It always reminded him of a Greek Amphitheatre, but instead of a stage, they were glancing at a screen above the main entrance doors. What always confused him, though, was the pentagonal room shape, and the large open space between the seating and the doors. However, for both queries, he was yet to discover the answer.

The conference dragged on, for hours and for days, for it seemed every seeker of the Foundation had a qualm or query, an issue or an intrigue. When tedium ensued, Dante found himself with his hands in his pockets, running her scarf through his fingers.

It was while they were listening to Montehue's account that they heard the sirens. Within a blink of an eye, servants of the blood spiral had forced their way through the doors to the conference room. As Dante jumped to his feet, a translucent barrier shimmered between them and the Foundation, both sides held back from the other.

Dante recognised a few of them from the battle earlier in the year, but most were still wearing their masks. They unnerved him.

It was Metz who spoke first.

"I suggest you leave. The barrier is unbreakable, and only 5 people in the entire world can pass through it." He settled back into his seat, folding his hands into his chest, "it would be far easier than having to waste all of that effort trying."

The silence that hung in the room was heavy, weighing down on everyone's shoulders. They weren't going to fight, or even capture them?

"What's he talking about?" Lok muttered, his hand reaching for the amulet around his neck.

"I don't know," Dante murmured, not taking his eyes off of the situation playing out below.

"And why would we trust you?" The cold voice of Shauna shattered the quiet, as did the tremor as Dervish slammed into the barrier. Despite its delicate appearances, the shield held.

"Am I taking it that you won't leave?" Metz continued calmly.

"We won't leave until we get what we came for," she spat, eyes narrowing. Metz got to his feet, standing his ground.

"Well I guarantee you won't be getting it." Powers and titans bounced off the barrier, the Spiral getting more and more aggravated. Dante glanced around, hating feeling helpless, but he trusted Metz enough not to question him.

"We won't leave without a fight!" Shauna growled her anger through the barrier, seething.

"Then I guess you leave us no choice." Metz's voice was barely a whisper, silence once again settling. But this time it was broken by a voice Dante knew all too well. His heart stalled within his chest, the echoes of it bouncing off the walls, everyone, including him, inclined their heads to the corners of the ceiling, each occupied by a woman.

"Dead or alive?"

The one who spoke was Zhalia.