Achilles was wandering the halls of the underworld, his heart heavy with grief and sorrow. He had died heroically, and he knew he deserved this afterlife, but still he yearned for something more.

Suddenly, he saw a figure at the end of the hall. As they came closer, Achilles' heart leapt into his throat. It was Patroclus, his beloved lover, returned to him once more.

Achilles ran towards him, speaking in old English with tears streaming down his face. True gold hair flowing on the field as it used to. "Patroclus, my love! Is it truly you?"