[His heart jolts in his breast as if awakening from hibernation, and at first Achilles is shocked into silence as he beholds his dear companion risen from the House of Death, whose gateway unhappy shades do clog as they wait to cross to the far shore. But for the peculiarity of Maya's hair perched atop his pate, he looks every inch the man Achilles knows so well, his second self. Then the words come all at once, and he scarce knows what first to say.]

Patroclus, pleasure of my heart - how I ache to clasp you once more, yet how I fear to find that there is naught around which to circle mine arms. Once before your shade appeared before me only to dissolve like smoke when I purposed to seal you in mine embrace.

[Nevertheless he steps forward, reaching for his friend's shoulders - and when he feels how solid they are, how sturdy beneath his trembling hands, he pulls him into his chest. Patroclus is miraculously warm, for it is Maya's life-warmed body that serves as his vessel. Achilles cheeks grow hot with tears, but what babbles from his lips is akin to laughter, so great is the joy that for this ephemeral moment cleaves through his grief.]

Such is how it might have been had Koltira's godcraft restored the life to your limbs... O, how I have longed for you since that day when away from my sight you fell again.

[Yet such joy wilts fast under the harsh truth that this reunion cannot long last.]