The Tottenham Hotspur Stadium was a library of ghosts.
60,000 people, stunned into a profound, reverent silence, were all trying to process the same impossible thing: the goal that had just broken the sound barrier.
The only noise was the delirious, screaming celebration from the tiny pocket of Liverpool fans in the corner and the sound of the Inter players... wait, Liverpool players, mobbing their new, white-haired god.
Leon was at the bottom of the pile, the breath being crushed out of him by a joyous, 200-pound Virgil van Dijk, his ears ringing with the triumphant screams of his teammates.
But the only thing he could hear was the terrifying, silent echo of the message in his own mind.
He had just scored the greatest goal of his life. And he had no idea how he'd done it, or what it had cost.
"I... I THINK I NEED TO SIT DOWN," the commentator stammered, his voice a hoarse, disbelieving whisper.
