1

The elevator came to a stop after a torturous wait, and the door pulled aside. Bracing himself, Alexander looked up ahead. The human knight faced no guards nor executioners on the other side, to his initial relief. He came out in an inward curving hallway of far more refined air compared to the lower floors, and much better lit. Across the hallway, facing the elevator, was an open passage to an inner chamber, which the youth followed without much thought.

It was like walking inside a giant flower, a lily or a tulip, pure white and gentle. A heavenly dream. The floor was smooth and clean, adorned with magnificent floral patterns. The ceiling was supported by structures like trees of white steel, curving along the walls. It was hard to believe this graceful place had been constructed by the same people responsible for the deplorable evils down below.

The inmost chamber was spherical in shape and devoid of furniture, save for a tall chair near the very middle. Like a bamboo shoot it stood, slim, upright, and elegant, made of pure white wood, or a material close in likeness.

Someone sat in that magnificent chair, waiting.

Knowing his arrival couldn’t have gone unnoticed and seeing that there was no room to hide either, Alexander could only resign to his fate and walk on, beyond fear. Considering himself a dead man already, with nothing more left to lose, he brazenly marched deeper into the chamber, towards the seated person, his face pale and hands trembling.

“You’re the one who wanted me here?” he asked. “Well, here I am. Now tell me why I had to suffer so! At least explain this to me, before I must die. I believe I deserve to know.”

In the chair sat a male elf. At first, Alexander had thought it was Erekhigan himself, but shortly realized his mistake.

Though the elf had similar long, blonde hair, and was dressed in loose robes, the unknown person seemed somehow younger and less dignified than the Sage. Less robust and composed. He rested deep in the chair, legs ajar, head leaning to one side, as if asleep, or just bored. No, his eyes were open, gazing off into the distance. He had to have heard Alexander, yet he made no comment or bothered to look at the boy, as if he didn’t even care.

What was the stranger playing at?

Fear, unease, and irritation gnawed at the boy as he stepped on—and suddenly halted, all other thoughts banished from his mind by the relapse to horror which he had only barely overcome.

The elf wasn’t resting or otherwise uncaring.

Rather, he was well beyond all care, and decidedly dead.

His eyes were dimmed, unfocused. His face was ashen, lips parted, and deep bruises covered his mangled neck. All signs of life had left him, squeezed out of him by the hands of an unknown killer.

“Heavens smite me!” Alexander cried aloud and fell, unable to understand anything. “What is going on in here!?”

The dead gave no answers, naturally.

Left with only his own madness for company, Alexander clutched his head, trying to make sense of the downright farcical situation he was in. Who was the deceased? Why was he dead? Why had he been led to discover the body? Why had he been shown the things downstairs? Who had orchestrated this morbid play and for what reason? And how? Was it ever even deliberate and not just a series of unfortunate accidents, without a rhyme or reason? It was madness. Mad, mad, mad, completely senseless. He had to be seeing dreams.

In a moment, the young man was forced out of his delirium and back to reality.

The elevator door further back closed.

Soon enough, the lights on the panel beside it started to descend. As if by a Divine revelation, Alexander inferred the meaning. The lift was going down, summoned by someone else. It made a brief stop eight floors below—and then started to ascend again.

“Shit!” Alexander snapped from his daze.

If the elves discovered him here with their dead kindred...It didn’t take a genius to tell what was going to happen next. His heart beating like the hooves of a galloping race horse, Alexander started to look for another way out.

The chamber had no windows, but there was something resembling a doorway in the back end, behind the white chair. He ran to it at once, pulling Erekhigan’s steel coin from his pocket, mashing it against the light button by the door. The light flashed green, the door opened, and Alexander squeezed through the crack as soon as it was wide enough, into a curving hallway on the other side.

Picking the right hand side, he dashed down the corridor in a blind frenzy, and soon had another doorway in his sights. But no safety awaited him there. In his panic, the young man had lost his situational awareness, and realized his horrible mistake only as he came closer.

It was the door of the elevator.

The hallway merely circled around the inner chamber with the dead elf, bringing him back to his starting point. There was no other exit.

——Ding.

The elevator stopped. It was on his floor. Without waiting to see who would come out, Alexander spun around and dashed back the way he had come, praying his stealth cloak remained functional. As unlikely as his survival looked, he had to stall his terrible fate for as long as possible.

No, there had to be another way, somewhere.

A way out of this nightmare. If they caught him, everything would be over. His sister, Stefan, Carmelia, maybe even Isa, they would all be accused, imprisoned, probably executed—what a horrible trap he had walked into! For his friends and family’s sake, he couldn’t surrender. One way or the other, he had to find escape, even if he had to throw himself into the underworld by his own volition.

The pursuers were likely to go to the inner chamber first, and be stalled by the discovery of the corpse. This bought Alexander a moment to think. He forced himself to calm down and looked around. There were no other doors, no branching hallways, no places to hide—but it was then that his eyes spotted a chance.

A grate high up on the wall.

Another shaft, similar to the one that had brought him in, accessible by a small human, but not the elves on his tail.

Dashing to the wall in feverish fervor, Alexander climbed up, tore off the lid, and found that his guess had been correct. Nearly crying out of relief, the boy hurried to squeeze himself into the cavity, the likes of which had previously looked horrifying to him. At the same time, he heard bewildered yells from the inner chamber, through the door right behind him, speeding his efforts.

At any moment now, angry elves would storm out of the chamber through the back door, and see his bottom half sticking out from the wall—Let them linger a little longer, Alexander prayed to any Divine listening. Just a little longer and he would be out of their reach. They couldn’t pursue him into the duct and he’d be safe. He heard the grating sound of the door slowly opening. Pulling his feet in, hoping the cloak covered him sufficiently, he dragged himself through the cramped tunnel with manic effort.

He’d made it!

Then, Alexander remembered one detail that made the terror return.

The lid couldn’t be closed from the inside.

His pursuers would see the undone opening on the wall and realize where he had gone. And even if they couldn’t follow him into it, they could still catch him if they knew the exits and covered them. Alexander had gone fox-hunting many times, and now he could vividly picture himself in the role of the hunted, whimpering in despair.

Who would reach the exit first?

It had turned into a race against time.

2

The King of Alderia was dead. Carmelia stared at the corpse of Quaran, seated on the Throne, and felt all her plans fall apart. She had been outplayed with finesse, and could only concede to losing this round, and perhaps the whole game. As she remained lost in reflection, the knight commander beside her voiced a subdued but heavy question, shaking with uncontainable wrath.

“...Who did this?”

In response, Carmelia recalled her role as an investigator, and took a step towards the Throne, raising her hand.

“Stop!” Jordith howled, interrupting her. “You mean to desecrate his majesty’s remains with your sorcery? It is not the carcass of some worthless lowlife in front of you!”

“You want answers or not?” Carmelia turned to ask in exchange.

“We cannot condone touching the King’s body, for any purpose,” Viceroy Tresim stepped forward. “What has happened to him is a most abominable crime, but we cannot allow our pursuit for revenge stain our dignity as a species. There must be other ways for us to proceed with the investigation.”

“I concur with Viceroy Tresim,” Viceroy Dalannan spoke. “His majesty has concluded his earthly journey, and deserves our respect. We must allow him to rest in peace.”

Carmelia lowered her hand.

At the same time, a group of knights returned through the back door.

“Indeed, though we are no sorcerers, our search already bears fruit,” their superior, a knight called Likaum reported. “The cover of a ventilation shaft was displaced right outside the chamber. It has become clear what route the killer took to get into the Palace. As well as who they are.”

“Your meaning?” Jordith asked the guard.

“The ventilation system is much too small for the ptoleans to access. Only a rat could have squeezed through. Or perhaps a human?”

Jordith turned to face the sorceress, his countenance like a thunderstorm.

“The humans you brought into the Court,” he growled.

Carmelia’s expression masterfully hid her thoughts on the matter, but her gaze grew cold.

“You mean to say his majesty was undone by a man?” she asked. “Doubt Quaran would be pleased with your suggestion, were he still among the living. And what of the ptoleans then?”

Jordith didn’t back down.

“A man armed with your vile tricks? Perhaps.”

“Had I wanted Quaran’s head, do you think I would have spared it two hundred years ago, allowing him to reign in my place?” Carmelia dryly spoke, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light. “I never wanted it to come to this, believe me. Neither do I think any of the humans who were in my company are capable of murdering the King. Something worse is behind all this. And I wish to uncover the truth as much as you do.”

“We’ll see about that,” the guard commander replied, anything but convinced. “After we find this human, and hear from his own lips whether his tale matches with yours.”

“We will begin mapping the ventilation system’s exit points together with the engineers,” Likhaum announced. “Once they are all covered, it is only a matter of time before the rat is caught.”

“And if you swear yourself innocent,” Jordith told Carmelia, “you will help us.”

“Naturally,” Carmelia replied, hiding her vexation with effort.

That a human had been to the Throne Room—she knew for an undisputed fact.

Even without magic, her senses could pick out the scent of the Ludgwertan knight, and could only thank her luck that the others knew it not as well. What had that poor fool become involved in, and on whose behest? Certainly, she was going to get to the bottom of it all.

After all, their lives depended on it.

3

Alexander came to a long, vertical shaft. Hoping it would lead him to the underground levels and back the way he had come, he swallowed his fears and began to climb. He found that he was able to slide down the tube quite comfortably, using his elbows and feet to brake and keep the speed manageable. With such speed, there was no way the elves could ever catch him, he was sure.

Eventually reaching the bottom of the shaft, Alexander found himself at an intersection of four crossing ducts and took a moment to consider his options.

All the paths looked identical at a glance.

Then, Alexander felt a subtle draft on his face, fresh air coming down the path on his right. Prideful of his keen senses, he crawled along the duct to the nearest available opening, only some dozens of yards away to the east. There, yet another grate blocked his way, but now familiar with their mechanics, he was able to force it out of the way by pushing it firmly upward. And beyond awaited freedom—surely.

Fortunately, that opening had yet to be blocked by the guards. Alexander crawled out in what looked like a garden behind the Royal Palace. More like, it was a batch of unkempt forest, but with lamps here and there to keep the coming night at bay, and a net of small, paved paths coursing through the undergrowth.

Thinking he was saved, Alexander ran low along the nearest path, determined to get away from the imposing tower and the monstrous people filling it. But yet again, the young man’s hopeful excitement boiled down to nothing.

First, he came across a river.

It was quite wide, at least a seventy yards or so, and the current looked strong. Worse yet, the opposing shore was walled off by steep cliffs, with next to no bank to climb up on. There was no swimming across it or upstream. The river circled the entire left side of the garden, up to the Palace tower and a connecting wall in the west.

There was no escape that way.

Fear gradually returning to him, Alexander followed the riverbank away from the Palace, weaving past the dense bushes and thickets. The river carried on ever eastward, but his journey alongside it had to end, for a natural rock wall suddenly appeared in front him. It was too steep and tall to climb, devoid of footholds.

Instead, Alexander turned southward, following the cliff face. Nary seventy yards later, the woods ended and he came to a raised walkway of stone, behind which stood numerous buildings neighboring the Palace complex. The walkway served also as a perimeter wall, reaching around the whole southern side of the garden, back to the Palace, its sides too tall to climb over. There was only one opening, which was guarded, with two sentries on top of a brief flight of stairs. There was no room to squeeze through them, and Erekhigan had warned not to get within ten feet of anyone, or they would see through the camouflage.

Alexander hid in the bushes, distressed and frustrated. What he had first thought was a natural forest was only a small, sealed pocket at the root of the Palace. He remained completely trapped.

Sooner or later, guards would come to comb through the garden and find him. Out of options, Alexander returned to the riverbank, the only side free of hostiles. Perhaps he could swim downstream and circle around the city? But the longer he stared at the river, the worse this option looked. The stream's descent was anything but gentle. Would he have the strength to get back to the shore again, after submitting to the water’s pull?

What else could he do?

At least, if the sea disposed of his corpse, it couldn’t be used as evidence to blame his companions. Pushed to the limit, Alexander kicked off his boots, pulled off the cloak, and dipped his bare foot into the river.

“Akh! Damn it…!” he gritted his teeth, immediately pulling back. The water was freezing cold.

Then, turning back Alexander discovered that he was not alone.

“What the…?” He blinked his eyes, certain he was seeing things.

In front of him, under the trees, stood a young girl.

By the shape of her ears, she appeared to be an elf, but unlike the rest of her kind, she was not particularly big or tough. In fact, he was taller than she was. She carried no weapons or armor either, being clad in only a light dress.

For a moment, the two of them were left merely staring at each other in silence.

Alexander even forgot his terror. He forgot the time and the place, steadying his previously ragged breathing.

The girl was beautiful.

More beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

Her round eyes, her little lips, her proportionate form, devoid of excess muscle, fat, or the curvaceousness of maturity, all perfectly in balance—looking at the girl brought about in the youth’s heart a ticklish tension and a yearning for closeness. She made a questioning smile at him, and that smile was like poison to Alexander, stripping him of all doubt and caution.

“Hey,” Alexander finally regained his voice and spoke. “Who are you?”

“I am Naliya,” the girl answered.

“Naliya,” he repeated her name. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” Naliya replied, her smile widening. “What is yours?”

“I’m...Alexander. Alexander de Guillon. After my great-grandfather.”

“I see,” the girl nodded. “I have read that name once before, in an old record. Alexander de Mansoix, of the Kingdom of Alberion, which is no more. He was a great hero among humans, as was his son. Are you a hero too, Alexander de Guillon?”

“Ah...I don’t know about that,” Alexander replied and looked away, bashfully scratching his neck. “I’m trying to be, I guess?”

“You are a human, like Izumi. Have you seen her?”

“Huh?” Alexander raised his face. “You know her too?”

“I do. I met her here before, in this very place. I have been waiting for her to return, as she promised, yet she has not. Has she already gone home?”

“Ah, no," he said. "She’s...away.”

“I see,” Naliya looked down. “What a shame. Then, would you like to speak with me instead? It is not often that I get visitors. I would love to learn more about the life outside.”

“And I’d love to tell you,” Alexander replied. “But I’m kind of in trouble right now.”

“Trouble?”

Recalling his hopeless situation, Alexander looked back at the river again.

“I can’t let anyone find me here. You don’t happen to know a way out of this place, do you?”

“There is no way out,” Naliya answered without delay.

“Huh?” he frowned. “What do you mean? How do you get out then?”

“I do not.”

“You don’t?”

“That’s right,” the girl nodded. “There is no way to leave, because they don’t want me to. I hear it is very dangerous outside, so I must remain here.”

“I think it’s more dangerous inside,” Alexander said. “But really? You’ve never left the Palace? Not even once in your life? Even with somebody going with you?”

“That’s right. I have not,” Naliya confirmed.

“Oh shit...” the man swore and looked up, wiping his face.

“I don’t think I have heard that word before. What does it mean?”

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“Never mind that. It’s not right.”

“Not right? What is? Saying words like ‘shit’?”

“Keeping you here against your will,” he specified.

“Why?” Naliya tilted her head.

“Because every living being has the right to be free.”

“Why?” Naliya repeated.

“What do you mean, why…?” Alexander grimaced. “Because being locked up for all your life is horrible! It’s torture! You only do that to the worst of criminals.”

“Horrible? Torture? Criminals? You use very strange words, Alexander.”

“I’m a knight,” the young man said. “I swore an oath to protect people’s freedom, against those who would want to take it away. You said you wanted to learn about the outside world, yeah? Well, you should be allowed to go out there and see it for yourself, without anyone to stop you. That’s what it means to be free. No one else has the right to decide how you should live your life. Only you do.”

“I see,” Naliya muttered, absorbed in thought. “I cannot well say I understand. But your words stir a strange thrill in my heart. Yes. I’d much like to go out there and experience for myself the things I have only heard and dreamed about. I have long held this yearning, though I have lately began to accept it as impossible. Do you think I could do it, after all?”

“Well, you could, if only we found a way to leave.”

As Alexander once again looked around, to find any clue he had previously overlooked, he spotted sudden movement in the distance. A group of elven knights in their brass armors came from the Palace’s direction, down the paved path. Some of them split to investigate the opening he had crawled through—which he had foolishly left open in his hurry. The rest headed into the garden, no doubt to confirm Naliya’s whereabouts.

“Damn it!” Alexander quickly jumped to Naliya and pulled her down with him, hiding behind the tall grass by the riverbank. In a moment, the guards would realize he had come out here, and then search the woods to find them. His time was running out.

“What is it?” the girl asked the boy, oblivious to his plight.

“We can’t let them see us, or it’ll all be over,” Alexander explained. “They’ll kill me, and you’ll stay a prisoner for the rest of your days.”

“Kill you?”

“Yeah. Probably. After a good bit of torture.”

“But there are still many more things I want to talk to you about,” Naliya said.

“I’m happy if you feel that way, but I doubt they’ll ask our opinions.”

Alexander stared at the river. It seemed to be their only way out, after all.

“Look,” he told the girl. “This isn’t a good idea. There’s a chance that we’ll both die trying, but I see no other way out. We’ll have to try swim down the river.”

“I see,” Naliya nodded. “You are right. Our bodies will most likely not endure it.”

“You’re not much of a believe are you?” he sighed. “Do you know how to swim?”

“I do not,” she confessed without hesitation. “I have never tried.”

“All right. That’s pretty bad. Then maybe you should stay here, after all. Doubt they’ll do anything to you. Just tell them you didn’t see anyone and—”

“No,” Naliya interrupted him, clutching his shirt. “I want to go with you, Alexander.”

“...”

“I want to be free.”

Hearing those words, seeing the eager look in her gleaming eyes, Alexander de Guillon knew that his fate was sealed. He took off Erekhigan’s cloak, which was of tough, thick cloth, and wrapped it around Naliya. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing, and should have spared her of most scrapes. Perhaps whatever magic was woven into the fabric would take care of the rest. Then, he tossed his boots into the river and knelt, turning his back to the girl.

“Okay. Get on. Hold onto me, as tightly as you can.”

Naliya obediently did as instructed, climbed onto Alexander’s back, putting her arms around his neck and held on, though he barely felt any force. Clearly, her strength was a far cry from the rest of her kind. Nevertheless, her weight, this gentle embrace, brought about a surge of courage in him, and helped shake off his remaining doubts.

“No matter what happens, don’t let go, okay?” he told her. “All you have to do is hang on, and I’ll take care of the rest. Hold your breath when you’re underwater, breathe when your head is above the water. Simple, right? Do you think you can do that?”

“I can,” Naliya assured.

“Good. Now...Pray to whatever Divines you know.”

“I know quite many of them. With whom should I begin?”

“...The ones you like best? Anything goes.”

Drawing breath, Alexander threw himself into the river. In no time, the chilling stream stole them away and began to deliver them downhill, away from the Palace, with fearsome swiftness.

One way or the other, they would obtain their freedom.

In this life, or the next.

4

Carmelia didn’t think it was possible for the situation to get any worse, yet fate proved her wrong once more. A squad of Palace sentries shortly returned, bearing dire news, which became the final, shattering blow on everyone’s mental fortitude.

“Dawnstar has gone missing!" they said. "We cannot find her!”

Commander Jordith faced the messenger with murder in his eyes.

“For your own sake, Tenenbrau,” he said in a chilling tone, “I pray this is a report on your incompetence at searching, and not a fact!”

“I swear on my life!” the poor knight called Tenenbrau exclaimed. “We have looked everywhere, my lord! She was in the garden in one moment, then gone in the next! We went through every nook and cranny, she couldn’t have eluded us. Moreover, arcanists and Palace technicians assure us she is not anywhere within the censors’ range anymore. She is gone! Disappeared!”

“That little apeling! I should have had her chained to a wall!” Jordith roared, pacing restlessly around the hall.

“My lord, that is not all...” the sentry forced himself to continue. “The ventilation system has one exit on the garden side. We found that the cover has been removed...”

The knight was silenced by the commander’s dreadful glare. No doubt, Jordith wanted nothing more but to cut down that bearer of ill tidings on the spot, to keep from hearing another word, but mastered himself with great exertion. As overwhelming as the flood of terrible tidings was, denial would not help things.

“The intruder has taken Naliya,” he finally summarized the unbelievable scenario. “Either they have made mockery of my entire guard by slipping past undetected, or else they have escaped by the river, and I am deeply ashamed for not knowing which is more likely.”

“My lord!” the sentry appealed. “On my honor, we have never failed you! Had they come anywhere close to our watch, we would have seized them, no matter what sorcery was at play!”

“Then have your men comb the river, for they are dead! Humans are weak, and alas, Dawnstar even more so! They could not have survived the stream, unless Valios himself returned to deliver them!”

Anxiously nodding, the guards departed to carry out their orders.

Meanwhile, Jordith turned his grief-stricken face once more to Carmelia.

“This pathetic charade has gone on for long enough,” he grunted. “Arrest her.”

“You let sorrow and fury override your reasoning, Jordith,” the sorceress told him, as guards surrounded her. “For the last time, I am not behind any of these incidents. By imprisoning me, you will only serve the architect of our tragedy, and remove all hope of uncovering the truth.”

The chief of the Royal Guard was not swayed, but walked up to Carmelia, raising his voice,

“If you are indeed such a dear ally to us, then tell me—where are the humans you brought to the island! Why did you remove them from the Palace in such a hurry, right as this chaos was unleashed? Why are your precious pets now sneaking around in the sanctuary we offered them, undoing all that we hold dear? Answer me this, and my faith in you may yet be partly salvaged, witch of the fallen!”

“It was for their own safety that I took them from the Palace, for your enemy is their enemy also,” Carmelia answered. “And it was in doing so, that I should have also removed them from the list of suspects, for they possess no means of breaking into the Palace, not without inside aid. Or is the crown jewel of the mighty Sihlruén truly no better than a leaking fishboat in your mind?”

Yet again failed her words at leaving an impression on Jordith.

“You confound me with your rhetoric at every turn,” he said, shaking his head, “but you will not talk your way out of this any longer! I want no excuses, but answers! Where are the humans hiding!? Tell me, or you will not see the light of day again!”

——“Now, now, commander. You should not raise your voice so.”

Before Carmelia could reply, a calm, deep voice interrupted them.

Locked in this yelling contest, either as a participant or as an observer, no one had noticed how a new person had appeared in the room. That person now walked boldly through the crowd, which hurriedly made way, and joined the central stage.

Jordith immediately fell quiet and retreated a step, and the sentries about to drag Carmelia away withdrew in kind. Taking a stand right beside the sorceress, Sage Erekhigan greeted everyone present with a warm smile.

“If you allow me, ladies and gentlemen,” he told them, “I would like to remind you all of this certain, near-universal cornerstone of justice and fairness, that is even older than I am.”

Then, winking at Carmelia, Erekhigan pronounced,

“’Innocent until proven otherwise.’”

“...” Carmelia made no comment but looked sourly away.

“We only have circumstantial evidence speak against our human guests,” the Sage continued. “And it’s quite the feeble show, to be entirely honest with you. Because only humans would fit in the ventilation system, the culprit must be one of their number? Goodness me! Even I could fit through those ducts, if I really wanted to! All it takes is some modular alterations. Shapeshifting, spatial displacement, quantum scaling, voidwalking, you name it. Has anyone actually seen this human intruder with their own eyes? No? To begin with, what could the humans possibly have to gain by slaying his majesty, deliberately placing themselves under persecution and mortal danger? Though history may suggest otherwise, I doubt they kill Kings only for a riveting pastime. You have a suspect, but no semblance of motive or method. Yet, you appear to be in quite the hurry to chop heads all the same!”

“What do you want, your excellency?” Jordith asked, struggling to preserve his polite act.

“Me?” Erekhigan lightly replied. “Why, to see true justice served, of course! To cleanse our reputation of the blemish that your hastiness is about to deliver upon it, commander. Let none accuse us emiri of being strangers to reason, or advocates of baseless cruelty! No, let us save such barbaric skirmishes and calling for blood to the less enlightened cultures. Speaking of which, if an accusing finger has to be pointed somewhere, then rather than the humans, I would sooner aim it at certain other folk we are presently entertaining in our kingdom. For they happen to have both a very apparent motive, as well as the ideal means to carry out every last one of the crimes that we speak of.”

“The ptoleans?” the knight commander frowned. “But I thought their agents were murdered all the same? So the witch assured us. Was what she told us a lie then?”

“Ahahaha!” Erekhigan laughed brightly at Jordith. “My, my. You need to learn to think outside the box, my dear friend. Now I see how meticulously you and your men were outwitted last night. Certainly, as my precocious pupil has stated, the ptoleans must be dead. But, whoever said they were murdered? I’m afraid you were all tricked there.”

“What…?”

Everyone in the room made confused faces at the Sage’s suggestion.

“Yes,” he carried on, as if it were all a happy little game. “As Geltsemanhe’s former followers, the ptoleans do not fear death. Neither have they ever hesitated to sacrifice themselves for their cause, giving up their gift of immortality without care. Such is their character, as we all well know.”

“You mean to say they...killed themselves?” Jordith inferred.

“The crystal rituals were undone by someone well-versed in blood magic, yes?” the Sage asked him. “Then, the most likely culprit is clearly—the one who set curse in the first place! Such is the most obvious answer to all locked room mysteries, is it not? Could there ever be a more effective way to remove oneself from the list of suspects but through dying? In-fighting was not the source of their demise or anything childish like that. No, it was all done in harmonious agreement, planned well in advance. Of course, not all of the ptoleans perished. One had to live to steal off with our precious Dawnstar, whom they targeted from the start! For one of these beings’ sturdy constitution, swimming up and down that little river is no effort at all. Even if they had to do so while carrying another person.”

“The bastards!” It appeared that Jordith had already been converted as a follower of the Sage’s theory. “How dare they!”

“The way I see it,” the Sage told him, “you misunderstood our guests’ intentions from day one, commander. They came here not to seek justice through reparation, but through good old vengeance. Which is why, rather than wasting your time flinging spit in my dear pupil’s face, you should be thinking of how to disarm our guests, and safely take back the child. Now, I do not mean to tell the good commander how to do his job—not by any means!—but bolstering the watch on the ptolean encampment could be a fine start. I daresay they have enjoyed their freedom of movement a little too much, as of late.”

Swearing, Jordith departed to relay orders, taking his guard with him.

Trecim and Dalannan left as well, and soon only Carmelia and the Sage were left of the great gathering. Though it was doubtful that the sorceress had entirely been cleared of suspicion yet, having Erekhigan take her side had still dramatically improved her public image, it seemed.

In so short a time, the whole stormy scene quieted.

And the Sage turned to the sorceress.

“Seems I came by not a moment too soon,” Erekhigan told Carmelia, continuing to beam with a lighthearted smile. “Ah, no need to thank me, child. Looking after the young ones is an elder’s duty, after all. I hope you haven’t forgotten that, in your self-imposed exile.”

“...”

Carmelia glared at the Sage, not saying a word.

She had never felt as humiliated before in her life.

5

With all his might and valor, Alexander de Guillon fought against the river. No, with the responsibility of a frail life on him, he surely exceeded all his human limits that day.

Nevertheless, everything has its limits and all too soon, his strength faded. As with Izumi before, the treacherous river would toss the swimmers around and around, snatching them under the surface without any warning, and all thought of resisting the watery masses would have only been the pinnacle of folly. The only upside in the situation was that there were not nearly as many deadly rocks downstream as there were higher up the slope, and the two were spared of bone-breaking collisions along the way.

Regardless, the force of the river was much too great for a man.

Reaching the absolute limits of his endurance, Alexander eventually gave up on himself, and focused his efforts only on keeping Naliya above the water. Yet even in this noble endeavor, his mortal ability failed him. As if it were a conscious monster, the stream kept trying to pull the boy and the girl apart, and very nearly succeeded too. On the brink of drowning, barely holding onto the wrist of the elven child, Alexander felt the grip of irresistible darkness tightening on him.

Blind and deaf for the lack of oxygen, and numb for the cold, all he sensed at this point was the faint, lingering warmth of the small hand he held. From the bottom of his heart, he wished his sister to have better luck in life, before succumbing to the overpowering onset of death.

“——?”

Then, without warning, a strong hand gripped the youth.

Alexander got pulled up to the surface and felt himself be dragged onto the rocky shoreline, whereupon he was left coughing and puking water, hard ground under his violently shaking arms. Able to breathe again after a while, recovering somewhat, Alexander realized he still held onto Naliya and hurried to pull the girl into his arms, cradling her with a terrible dread. So cold and lifeless she felt on his bosom, and her consciousness was lost. Having this innocent life pay the price for his recklessness—he couldn’t ever forgive himself if it came to that.

However, Naliya soon started to cough faintly and tension returned in her arms.

“You need not worry for her,” a powerful voice spoke nearby. “That child is capable of breathing underwater. Keep her warm and she will recover, in time.”

Alexander looked up.

They were in what appeared to be a cavern that the river had drilled through mountainside over the course of untold eons. On the other side, through the distant opening, Alexander could spy a slice of the southern sea, vast and deep blue.

And close by stood an enormous man in a purple robe.

He was not an elf, clearly, for his skin was of a blue shade of black, and his eyes all white as large pearls. The man had no beard, no brows either, and the top of his head was clean shaven. Alexander had never seen such a being before, but by the legends he had heard in early childhood, he deduced the man to be one of the ptoleans Isa had briefly mentioned.

“The river has delivered you far, son of man,” Koolon of the ptoleans told the youth. “You should be safe here, for a time. As soon as you are recovered, follow the shoreline eastward. You will find a path across the ridge that will take you back to the city, to your companions. Follow it, and you will live to see another day.”

Having said all this, the large, blue man turned to leave.

“Hey!” Alexander called after him. “You saved us. Why?”

Alexander had never heard of ptoleans being particularly benevolent. Rather, most stories tended to paint them as the villains. Many were their feuds with the elves, and few their allies in the world. Not knowing whether the gratitude he felt was deserved or not, he had to ask.

The Archdeacon of the ptoleans stopped and looked back with his featureless, emotionless eyes.

“You will become my revenge on the emiri,” he told Alexander. “So the stars have foretold.”

Saying no more, Koolon departed. He strode along the shoreline, letting the river wash away his footprints. Alexander watched the ptolean’s wide back until it had completely disappeared from view, unable to understand the meaning of his words, feeling dead tired.

Alexander could allow himself no longer respite, however.

Summoning his youthful vitality, he carried Naliya further away from the water, and laid her by the cavern wall. He quickly gathered dead branches and leaves delivered by the river, and furtive shrubs growing near the cavern, piled all he could find, and lit them with the Rune of Ignition.

Soon enough, the two of them were warmed by crackling flames.

Holding Naliya against his chest, Alexander rested his back on a rock and waited for the fire and his own body heat to restore life in the frail creature in his arms. Naliya’s breathing grew easier and she stopped trembling in a while. And then, she slowly opened her round eyes, as if merely stirring from an afternoon nap.

“Are we now ‘free’?” the girls asked him, staring into the bonfire.

“Close enough,” Alexander replied with a tired laugh. “Let’s just say it’s a start.”

“I see. Then, I am glad.”

They continued to lay in silence. The boy and the girl in his arms.

“It’s strange,” Naliya spoke again. “Knowing that I am now free, even being so cold and tired has begun to seem special to me, somehow.”

“I know, right?”

“Indeed, I have never hurt this much before in my life.”

“Well, it’s kind of part of the deal,” Alexander told her. “Hurting. You may even come to regret it. One day, you might start to think that not being free anymore would be fine, if only you didn’t have to hurt so much. But, like my father once told me, you need to know pain, or you wouldn’t know what real happiness is like.”

“Happiness,” Naliya repeated. “By what I have read, it is as if the goal of all sentient beings. To find it, to know it, to live it. Is this true?”

“Ah,” Alexander nodded. “I guess it’s what everybody’s after, deep down.”

“Do you know happiness, Alexander?” she asked. “Have you found it yet? The goal of your own existence?”

The boy looked down at Naliya. Likewise, she looked up at him, and they stared in each other’s eyes for a long time.

“Not yet,” overcome with emotion, Alexander finally spoke. “But, I think, I just might. So long as I’m with you.”

“That’s funny,” Naliya replied with a wide smile. “I felt the same.”

As if pulled by intolerable magnetism, Alexander leaned his face closer to the girl. He struggled against the impure thoughts welling up within him, cursing himself for his shamelessness. Yet, at the same time, he already knew the fight to be lost. Whoever could deny the beauty and attractiveness of the Dawnstar was surely no man at all, but the lowest of all miserable wretches.

Unaware of his thoughts, with a gaze unclouded by doubt, Naliya continued to stare back at him, hold him captive with her gaze, without retreating or denying. No, doubtless the same inexorable instinct was at work within the girl as well, as it was in all beings of flesh.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Naliya whispered, their lips very nearly touching. “Why?”

“Yours isn’t?” he asked, inching closer.

“It is,” she said. “That is why I asked. I know not this feeling. Tell me, what does it mean? You are a wise man, Alexander. You answered all my questions. Then you must know this.”

“Sometimes,” he said, his head sinking even closer, even though he tried to resist it with every fiber of his being, knowing he shouldn’t have. “Sometimes, you just have to figure it for yourself.”

From that moment on, Alexander de Guillon was trapped, held hostage by the fierce passion lit in his heart, against which his innocence and inexperience left him entirely disarmed. And so he was to remain, to his dying day.