**Ah-choo!**

And how old was this potion that you drank?

I'm not sure, ma'am. We found it in some Cultists' stuff. Presto said it seemed "off," but we really needed it to help get around the spiderdragon.

Yes, that's quite a narrative twist, isn't it? Funny thing about magic. It sure wants to make itself seem useful.  

Once a person's been trapped in this world long enough, you'd think she'd be a bit more wary of drinking strange potions.

Yeah, well, it's hard to remember all the rules when you're in hurry to get home.

Heh! As if "rules" mean anything! Don't be in such a hurry that you rush past the line between rules-as-written and rules-as-intended.

Now you're starting to sound like Dungeonmaster.

That's not funny.

Wuh-oh...

Oh. I'm sorry. I thought maybe you and he had reconciled? I mean, you're working together...

That little... *Hmph.* Well, we all need to do what we need to do, to stop the Nameless One, of course. I learned a long time ago that Dungeonmaster ultimately doesn't care about me, or my loved ones. He had a number of chances to...

(moving to the exit, she pauses, then speaks to Diana from over her shoulder) 

Be careful how much you listen to him. Before it gets too late, and you don't know how to listen to anything else.

I get it! I see it now. I know your secret.

Secret? What? Well! Huh! I don't know what you are talking about! Come along, Gweekin! Diana needs her rest, surely! 

Gweek!

You-- you are like us, aren't you? You came from the real world. 

Ha! The real world! As if what is around us isn't real enough...

All right. Yes. You are correct. I, too, came from the real world. My whole family and I were trapped here. A long, long time ago. 

That's... incredible! All this time, and Dungeonmaster couldn't help you?

Dungeonmaster was there, every step of our journey. Trying to guide us, or so he would say. I tried to do everything he said. Up until the time... my family was lost. I lost everything.

(she starts to tear up, and Gweekin peers up at her, cooing mournfully)

I'm so, so sorry. Why didn't you say anything, before?

I couldn't do that to you, couldn't let my story be something that dashed your hopes. This world is hard enough without hope. I know this far too well. 

Even if that hope might be false? 

What could I say, really? You are-- were-- just children. What could I say to you children? What would you have wanted to hear? What do you want me to say now?

I-- don't know. It's all so... overwhelming. Is there really no way home?

I-- I don't know. Maybe? I found it better-- well, easier-- to not ask anymore. 

I don't what to say. That's such a long time. What if-- what if I can't do that? 

I don't know what to say, either. Except-- sometimes it's okay to not have an answer right away. Solve the first problem first, and then the next, then the next. Eventually, we'll get to the chapter we want. The one we deserve. Somehow.