"Oh yeah. It wasn't pleasant. But compared to getting arrested... most of the alchemists who lived in the city fled. Those of us who stayed were the ones that sought the elixir."

Maiza falls silent there, not from the emotions but mostly because... he doesn't know. For the first many years after the voyage, they'd all hidden. He was too busy grieving, he remembers, to care about what happened to the city he felt less love for than he felt duty, about the father that he didn't have any serious remorse about leaving. He had lost the one family he truly cared about, and there was no heaven that he norGretto could've gone to -- Gretto was stuck inside Szilard (and now, Firo)'s body, and Maiza had a life that was destined never to go anywhere but inside another immortal's. What had happened of the town? of the Dormentaire's? No book he ever looked at centuries after had ever said. He'd always been afraid of touching on that topic with Molsa.

"I'm afraid I don't know. It wasn't... there were other things on my mind after. They didn't leave many records, and none I've been able to find out a lot from."