They anchored further down the coast of the island. As they lowered the speedboat into the water, Zach turned to Immanuel, "Coming with?"
Syl remained aboard, absorbed in her tasks in the office below. The speedboat skimmed across the water, soon reaching the shore where they dragged it onto the sandy beach.
“Zach, keep an eye out for any fruit-bearing plants or trees,” Immanuel called out. “I’m thinking of creating some planters. Imagine having fresh fruits, maybe even nuts, right on board.”
Zach plunged into the dense jungle. Immanuel, gripping his ax, followed suit. The forest was a labyrinth of tall, slender trees adorned with vast green leaves. He sought a tree with a robust trunk, his ax carving a path through the thick underbrush. The scent of fresh earth and freshly cut plants filled the air.
Spotting a tree of substantial girth, Immanuel set to work. The ax bit into the wood effortlessly, as if slicing through paper, a surprisingly pleasant task. With each stroke, wood splintered, and the tree soon fell with a resounding crash, its descent halted by the embrace of neighboring trees. Methodically, Immanuel moved to these trees, felling them to release their captive. He then sectioned the timber into manageable pieces, ideal for a campfire. The larger trunk was cut into smaller sections, each hollowed out to form planters, which he carefully set aside.
Immanuel ventured deeper into the jungle, eyes alert for fruit or nut-bearing trees. Amidst the vibrant greenery, he spotted an enormous insect, its long yellow legs trailing behind it like streamers. It was almost the size of a hawk, a surreal sight in this lush wilderness. The forest floor teemed with life, a bustling ground-level ecosystem.
He stumbled upon a bush filled with blue berries. "Are these edible?" he wondered, not recognizing the species. Opting for caution, he decided to uproot it for further inspection back on the ship. The bush was larger than he anticipated, necessitating the digging of a substantial hole to extricate it fully.
He hauled the bush to the shore, where he tidied it up with a few swings of his ax. Then, he filled ten planters with soil and placed them inside the speedboat. The planters, hefty and cumbersome, barely fit. Carefully, he positioned the berry bush among them. Once everything was secured, Immanuel piloted the boat back to the ship
----
Immanuel had just settled the bush into its new planter when Zach's faint call reached his ears. Spotting Zach on the beach, he leaped into the speedboat and zipped across the waters, where the suns bathed him in warmth and a gentle breeze caressed his skin.
Upon reaching the shore, Immanuel observed Zach amidst a grim scene. The wolf-form Zach was amidst a pile of dead rat-people, alongside a makeshift structure – several planks bound with rope, possibly part of a roof. Dragging this curious assembly, Zach approached, offering Immanuel a collection of pearl necklaces.
“You’ve been raiding the rats?” Immanuel asked, his voice tinged with unease.
“Yeah,” Zach replied simply.
Immanuel wrestled with his conscience, deciding to voice his concerns. “Was it necessary? To go there and... kill them?”
As Zach reverted to his human form, his features took on an innocent cast. His missing hair was already regrowing.
“Why?” Zach echoed, looking at him with those big brown eyes.
“They’re intelligent beings.”
“No, they're very stupid.”
Immanuel's brow furrowed as he absorbed Zach's words. "But they have families. Did you really need to go there and kill everyone?"
"I didn’t kill everyone," Zach replied after a brief pause, trying to grasp Immanuel's perspective.
“They attacked us first. What if we were mortals?” he added, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.
“We’d likely be dead, yes.”
“I targeted the warriors. And they did attack again,” Zach explained, then added, with a glance towards the ship, “Even if they hadn't attacked a second time, I would have still done it.”
Immanuel’s frown deepened. “Would you have attacked if they hadn't struck first?”
Zach fell silent, before responding, “Let's agree that our pack won’t kill unless we're attacked first.”
The incongruity of the young boy uttering such words brought a wry smile to Immanuel’s face. “Agreed. But what if only a few of their warriors attack us? Is the entire tribe fair game?”
Another silence fell as Zach considered this.
Zach's reply was stark. “If necessary, we could eliminate the entire pack. If you or Syl attack someone, they’d be justified in targeting our entire pack.”
“What if we had a crew of non-combatants? Innocent workers on our ship?”
“They could be targets too. They're part of our pack,” Zach stated matter-of-factly.
Immanuel probed further, “Can we agree not to harm the entire enemy group if they’re not a threat?”
Zach hesitated, then replied, “I'm not sure. There are risks in sparing non-combatants. You can be vulnerable, maybe if we have to sleep.”
“Okay, how about this: we strive to spare non-combatants who pose no threat?” Immanuel suggested.
“Agreed,” Zach consented.
As Immanuel gathered the creatures, Zach inquired, “How big is your storage?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Immanuel admitted, his mind still occupied with the ethical dilemmas they had just navigated.
Immanuel watched as Zach disappeared back into the jungle. "I'm off to gather some small fruit and nut trees," he called over his shoulder.
Left alone, Immanuel's thoughts turned introspective. 'I should feel more remorse for those rat-creatures, but I don’t. Just like with that monkey-man or the Lycan I killed. They don’t evoke sympathy in me.' He decided to leave the boat for Zach and began a leisurely swim back to the ship.
As he swam, he pondered his situation. 'Am I just using the chaos of this world as an excuse to shirk responsibility? Sartre argued that even under Nazi occupation, people remained free and thus accountable for their choices. If someone holds a gun against your head, you can still choose to die.'
His musings were briefly interrupted by the sight of a turtle propelled by jets of water instead of hind legs, darting swiftly after a school of colorful fish. The sight was oddly amusing.
'Relying solely on emotional responses isn’t a good guide here. Pain and suffering aren’t exclusive to those who can express them in ways I understand. The rat people don’t pull on my heartstrings, but probably suffer the same. The heart isn't a reliable moral guide in this world. I need some principles.'
He left it at that, accustomed as he was to abandoning trains of thought without resolution or conclusion, certain they would resurface in the future.
Back on the ship, Immanuel secured the blueberry bush with a rope, then sought out Syl.
---
Entering the study room, Immanuel felt his teeth, already regenerating, with his tongue, this brought a big smile on his face. He found Syl engrossed in a small leather book behind her desk.
"Find anything interesting?" he inquired.
Syl looked up, her expression a mix of fascination and concern. “Yes, quite. It seems those Mushala experimented extensively before settling on us. They kept pushing the boundaries, never quite satisfied with their creations.”
“Mushala?” Immanuel echoed, unfamiliar with the term.
“They're despicable, a blight,” Syl spat with evident disgust. “Their experiments were driven by a relentless pursuit of evolution, using their creations as mere stepping stones for their own advancement.”
She suddenly stood.
“I'm researching potential affinities for my next evolution and need to collect herbs from the jungle.” Her agitation was palpable. Observing her regrowing hair, Immanuel wondered if the accelerated growth was because they were cultivators, akin to the quick regeneration of his teeth.
“I’m sorry to hear that…”
“It’s not your fault,” Syl replied, her frown deepening as she looked at him.
“I mean, I empathize with your pain and wish these things hadn't happened.”
“But it led me here.”
“Yet, many others are still suffering,” Immanuel pointed out.
“They might not be if the sects were destroyed, but I doubt it. They would likely preserve enough for their own use…”
She looked at him with a curious expression.
“...You show more concern for them than I do,” she observed, a hint of surprise in her tone.
Immanuel sighed, “The thought of so many living in misery... I wonder if I could’ve done more to help them escape.” After a pause, he continued, “I just spoke with Zach. He killed several rat-people. We've agreed not to harm those who don't attack us or pose a threat. I don’t want to be a mindless killer, nor do I want to be killed by someone more powerful.”
Syl nodded, “I’ll try to do so but, if there is even a small risk I believe we should kill before showing mercy.”
“But what the sect leaders did, it wasn’t right, was it?” Immanuel probed.
“It’s not about right or wrong. It was necessary for their aims to create a powerful bloodline, so they did.”
Immanuel wanted to delve deeper but was interrupted as Syl suddenly said. “Let's go for a swim.”
Immanuel watched her, slightly puzzled by the abrupt change, he could see she was upset but also wanted to respect her boundaries. And the idea of swimming with Syl quickly dispelled his reservations. “Sure, let’s go.”
On deck, Syl didn't hesitate to disrobe and approach the railing completely naked. Immanuel paused, then quickly stripped down as well. “Can you dive?” he asked.
“Dive?”
Immanuel demonstrated by leaping off the railing in a graceful arc, slicing into the water hands-first. Resurfacing, he called out to Syl, “Your turn!”
As she took her jump, Immanuel activated his focus, watching her in extreme slow motion. He observed every detail – the way her breasts responded to the force of the jump, her arms and toes stretching elegantly. But as she reached the apex of her arc, he realized she had misjudged the trajectory. Her body began to rotate, setting her up for a less-than-graceful landing. Immanuel winced sympathetically as she hit the water hard on her back , releasing his focus just as she made the splash.
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“Fuck,” Immanuel chuckled. He dived underwater, finding Syl swimming. Surfacing together, he checked on her.
“You alright?” he asked with a grin.
“It looked easier than I thought,” Syl replied, her smile sparkling in the sunlight.
Drawn by the moment, Immanuel swam closer, kissing her passionately. He pulled her body against his. As their kiss deepened, Syl stopped swimming, causing them both to gently sink. She pulled him along, and their tender moment quickly transformed into a playful underwater wrestling match. Immanuel, the stronger swimmer, swam away after tugging her down, when she went for a breath.
Syl gave chase through the vibrant coral, but Immanuel's better swimming style kept him just out of reach.
He hovered in the water, the sunlight breaking beautifully around him as Syl approached. She grasped his neck, pretending to choke him underwater. He broke free and returned her feigned aggression with a soft, water-blurred kiss. Her smile in response was radiant as she floated in the sunlit water.
The temptation to continue this intimate play either on the shore or back in their bed was strong in Immanuel's mind. He surfaced to catch his breath, and Syl joined him.
“I’m going to head into the jungle to look for some herbs and explore a bit,” she said, breaking the spell of the moment. “It's a great opportunity to see what else the Jungle has to offer, especially without the threat of powerful beasts lurking.”
Immanuel needed a moment to process Syl's sudden shift in demeanor. 'Am I moving too fast for her?' He thought. ‘Maybe she is more upset than she shows?’
“Yeah, see if you can find any edible trees or bushes to bring back.”
“That’s why you have the berries? But they are poisonous,” she informed him, swimming back towards the ship. Immanuel followed, a tinge of reluctance in his strokes.
Once aboard, Syl attempted the dive again, this time executing it flawlessly. She emerged, climbed back on board and slipped her robes back on with a fluid grace.
“The boat’s still on the beach?” she inquired.
“Left it for Zach,” Immanuel confirmed.
“Then I’ll swim,” she declared, diving back into the water, this time with her robes, leaving Immanuel somewhat perplexed on the deck.
Immanuel, enveloped in the solitude of the ship, realized it had been an age since he last had some moments alone. 'What now?' he mused. He decided to go to the office and find an interesting book.
----
Immanuel stood on the beach in disbelief as Syl and Zach emerged from the jungle after three full days, dragging a laden structure behind them. It was heaving under the weight of various beasts, some small trees, and an assortment of items, but notably devoid of any rat-creatures.
“What the fuck, guys? Three days?” Immanuel couldn’t hide his frustration.
Syl, unfazed by his exasperation and sporting a smile, explained, “We got the rats to help us. They’re excellent scavengers. We found a wealth of herbs.”
Immanuel watched, still processing, as they maneuvered the heavily loaded structure onto the speedboat, leaving deep trails in the sand.
Zach, holding up a bottle crafted from some red material, added, “They have strong drink.”
“But... three days? I’ve been completely alone here,” Immanuel protested, a mix of irritation and disbelief in his voice.
Syl, seemingly oblivious to his annoyance, replied, “Three days flew by! This island has been incredibly fruitful for us.”
‘So, vanishing for three days is normal for them,’ Immanuel thought, his mind grappling with the norms of their world. He began methodically storing the haul in his storage, except for the trees and herbs.
Despite feeling a twinge of anger, he understood this lengthy exploration might be a standard practice for them, or typical for any herb-gathering or hunting expedition. Pushing the boat into the sea, he said, “I’ll take everything aboard. You guys can swim back.”
------
As they boarded, Immanuel was tinged with a restless eagerness to set sail once more. The desire for growth and the hunt for beast cores gnawed at him; the island had been a tranquil haven, yet the call of adventure was irresistible. Together, they hoisted the sails, and Immanuel attentively adjusted the navigator to chart their course anew. The island slowly drifted into the backdrop, visible on their left.
Immanuel, standing in the doorway to the bridge with a grin, announced, "Let's have a good sparring session." Syl swiftly locked the steering wheel into place, and Zach rose from the couch, a playful smirk crossing his face as he thought, 'Maybe sparring will help with the frustration.'
-----
On the deck, Immanuel savored the soothing warmth of the suns, drawing leisurely puffs from his pipe. His mind was preoccupied with what was to come. Syl had concocted a cocktail for him, to help with his transformation, and he was mentally steeling himself for the experience.
The island had shrunk to a mere speck in the distance as they set sail following Syl and Zach's return. Syl had also prepared a potent sedative as a precaution, in case the drug proved too overwhelming.
Finishing his smoke, Immanuel stowed his pipe and headed to his bedroom, a space where he felt a sense of security and calm. Syl was waiting there with a bottle on the table.
“Are you ready?” she asked gently.
“I’m mostly worried about losing control, embarrassing myself. Maybe Zach should oversee this?”
Syl’s expression flickered with a hint of hurt, but she composed herself. “I’ve used this substance before for insight. I can guide you through crucial moments. Anything you do under its influence, I won’t hold against you. I understand its effects.”
Immanuel settled down and eyed the bottle. “All of it?” he asked tentatively.
She nodded.
With a mixture of nerves and trust in Syl, and the hope of soon experiencing his transformation, Immanuel took a deep breath and downed the contents of the bottle. As the liquid coursed through him, he braced for the unknown.
----
Immanuel, not feeling the effects of the transformation tonic, sat in quiet anticipation, waiting for a change. "Maybe I need more?" he questioned, unsure.
“Just sit and feel your form. Try to change again,” Syl encouraged. Immanuel focused, channeling energy into his chimera form, but as before, hesitated at the crucial moment.
“Just feel it,” Syl repeated softly. “Feel how it reflects your core. Two sides, one core.”
An elusive something on the edge of Immanuel's consciousness began to take form, emerging from the periphery to the forefront of his mind. It was an intangible presence, previously unnoticed, yet now it demanded his full attention. As it became more prominent, Immanuel found himself grappling with its significance.
This undefined element seemed to beckon, inviting him to explore deeper layers of his psyche, to understand an aspect of himself or his surroundings that had remained just beyond his grasp.
The room seemed to expand infinitely, a disorienting sensation that left Immanuel terrified. He closed his eyes, yet still perceived the room growing larger. His breathing became erratic, his mind racing.
Syl’s soothing voice broke through his panic. “Relax. This will pass.” Her words were like a balm, calming his frayed nerves.
Opening his eyes, Immanuel saw Syl transformed in his perception – an angelic presence, radiating love and serenity. Overwhelmed by emotion, he confessed, “I love you.”
Her brief frown was quickly replaced by a radiant smile. “I love you too,” she replied, and in that moment, Immanuel felt a profound sense of rightness, as if all of existence had converged to this one point.
Time seemed irrelevant as he gazed into her dark green eyes, repeating, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she smiled, then gently added, “You need to do something for me.”
In his heightened state, this request became his entire purpose. Immanuel was ready to do anything for Syl, driven by an overwhelming sense of devotion and purpose.
He whispered, "Anything, please."
He found himself enveloped in an unexpected calmness. Within him, he felt a presence, a force monumental in its power, akin to the creation of a universe. It was an intrinsic part of his being, yet overwhelming in its magnitude.
He felt his core burning like a star.
As angelic voices seemed to sing around him, Immanuel searched wildly for their source, yet found nothing. Confusion set in when his attempts to articulate 'ángeles' felt strange and foreign on his tongue.
"Come with me now," the angel Syl beckoned. His mind, momentarily captivated by the internal universe, refocused as he followed her to the deck. There, the expanse of the sea struck him with its unfathomable vastness, inspiring awe. It seemed to stretch beyond the limits of creation, a primal force, the mother of life.
Overwhelmed with reverence, Immanuel knelt, pouring out gratitude to the sea. "Great sea! Great sea! I thank you for your guidance, for the life you've given, for the embrace of your cleansing waters."
Again and again he repeated the prayer to the sea until Syl’s voice pierced his reverie, "You must fly for me. Find your true purpose within, and let it carry us over the sea."
The mention of 'inside' triggered a response in Immanuel. The universe within him seemed palpable once more. He connected with it, feeling the pure energy that was his essence. In this heightened state, he envisioned a majestic being – was that his true form? As he tapped into this energy, a realization dawned: he had always been this Chimera. He was a voyager masquerading as a man, a child lost in grand thoughts and words.
Laughter bubbled up within him, a release of realization and joy. He laughed at the simplicity and the grandeur of his existence, at the journey he was on, and at the newfound understanding of his true nature. He laughed that he was playing to be this man, that he almost forgot his true self.
Immanuel reveled in the absurdity and hilarity of his situation, lying on his back, laughing uncontrollably. The realization that he had been a man-child, that he had somehow forgotten his true nature, was the most amusing thing he had ever encountered — a cosmic joke that he, himself, had orchestrated.
“Now we fly,” the angelic figure of Syl urged him again.
Tapping into his true essence, he welcomed the emergence of his chimera form like an old friend. His hands morphed into claws, and he sensed his head reshaping; where once his mouth was, now a formidable beak formed. In this transformation, he felt a profound sense of wholeness, as if he were finally embracing his authentic self.
He found himself on all fours, feeling the deck beneath his claws. With a sense of innate familiarity, he spread his wings wide, ready to take off. His first attempt ended in a tumble, adding to the hilarity of the moment. He couldn't fly, and the irony was deliciously funny.
“We need to fly,” the voice came again, more insistent this time.
Regaining his composure, Immanuel stood, his body still quivering with laughter. He then noticed another angelic figure, a boy, embodying pure innocence.
“I’ll jump on you now,” the angel Syl announced, climbing onto his back. Immanuel felt her weight, but his attention was captivated by the boy. An instinctual need to protect this embodiment of innocence surged within him. This was his purpose.
“We need to fly,” Syl repeated. Immanuel spread his wings again, this time with a renewed sense of determination, remembering the teachings of a past master. He was born for this. Leaping off the side of the ship, he beat his powerful wings, igniting his core with a burst of energy. Each flap elevated him higher, his ascent fueled by a profound passion for flight.
Soaring higher and higher, he felt an exhilarating freedom, a confirmation of his true essence. The sky was his domain, and in this moment, he embraced it fully, the laughter still echoing in his heart as he flew with purpose.
As Immanuel soared through the skies, a sudden realization hit him – why had he ever stopped flying? He couldn't recall, but he made a silent vow never to cease flying again.
"Turn back to the ship, Immanuel," the voice directed. Immanuel? That was his name. A wave of panic washed over him as he realized how high above the sea he was. His wings, once extensions of his being, now felt awkward, like an oversized suit he couldn't fill.
He searched within himself, seeking the essence of Immanuel. "Stop. Breathe. You are coming back to yourself," the voice – Syl's voice – guided him. He extended his wings, stabilizing their descent.
"Good, good," Syl encouraged.
Attempting to speak, Immanuel was met with an unfamiliar, animalistic sound, igniting fresh panic. But Syl's calming words reached him, "I hear you. Stay calm. Turn around slowly. Feel the wind under your wings. Everything is how it should be."
'How it should be,' he thought. There had been something perfect, something of utmost importance, but it had slipped from his grasp. What was it? What did he forget?
"Turn slow. Use your wings," Syl instructed again. Gradually, Immanuel began to turn, focusing on her guidance.
"Good. There! The ship. Stay on course, slowly descend." He spotted a dot in the distance, where the sea kissed the horizon. Was that the ship? How far had they flown?
In this moment, Immanuel was caught between the exhilaration of his newfound abilities and the disorienting realization of his current reality. He focused on the ship, using it as an anchor to guide him back, both physically and mentally, to where he needed to be.
As Immanuel approached the ship, his glides and flaps became more controlled and confident. The ship grew larger in his view, a comforting and familiar sight.
“Good. Well done, Immanuel. You did it. And we’re not lost at sea,” Syl's voice reached him, both reassuring and grounding. Immanuel was left wondering, 'What exactly did I do?'
He landed on the deck with a familiarity that puzzled him. 'When have I landed on ships before? Big ships, small ships... when?' These fleeting memories felt both distant and strangely familiar.
“You did it. Can you turn back? You must be tired,” she said, her voice tinged with concern.
Exhaustion enveloped him. He searched within and found his human form, his wings receding into arms, his claws shrinking back into feet.
Seeing Syl again after what felt like an eternity, he murmured, “Syl. I’m back.”
“You are,” she replied, embracing him warmly. His nakedness was a trivial concern compared to the profound journey he had just undertaken.
“I don’t know where I’ve been. But I was far away,” he confessed, his voice muffled against her neck.
“You were far away, but now you’re back,” she reassured him.
“There is something important, something I forgot.” He murmured.
She guided him to the bed, where he surrendered to sleep, his mind and body weary from the experience and the journey back to himself. In the safety and comfort of Syl's presence, Immanuel drifted into a deep, restorative slumber.