The world seemed to blur around Sylphi, her senses momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of the scene before her. The burning scent of charred flesh filled her nostrils, threatening to choke her, while the sound of her own pulse roared in her ears. At the room's center lay her mother, Sophirea, some of her skin a grotesque patchwork of burns. And towering over her, was the man she thought was left on the island, his hands still crackling with electric fury.

When he noticed her gaze on his arms, the surging electricity crackled out of existence.

“Sylphi, this–”

“What are you doing to her!?” Sylphi roared as she bolted towards him. Lazarus' eyes widened, taking a step back as Sylphi knelt and clutched Sophirea in her arms. “Mom! Are you okay? Mom!”

Sylphi leaned in, pressing her ear close to Sophirea's mouth. The faint whisper of a breath caressed her skin, and a wave of relief surged within her—Sophirea was alive. As she turned towards the man she had only recently begun to trust, her heart clenched. His eyes, a deep blood-red, were punctuated by four distinct black lines radiating from his irises. Those were not the gentle blue eyes she once knew.

Questions cascaded through Sylphi's mind like a waterfall, each crashing down with increasing weight and intensity. But one thing was painfully clear: the man before her was Lazarus. The very same Lazarus she had once loathed, clashed with, and yet, inevitably, forged a profound connection with. That Lazarus. The one with a clumsy smile, who had risked his life for hers. And while he always dismissed his actions as mere ‘necessity’, Sylphi saw the underlying warmth, a kindness he seemed unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge.

Yet now, as she grappled with the haunting sight before her, she couldn't help but question: was it all an act? Had everything they shared in those moments been an elaborate facade? Those once familiar eyes, now a chilling shade of red, seemed to drip with malice. Seeing that look in the eyes of someone she had come to trust felt like a knife cleaving her heart.

What could have possibly pushed him to this point? A whirlwind of emotions consumed her, leaving her trapped in a storm of uncertainty and anguish.

One thing was unmistakably clear to her, even amidst the chaos: she needed the truth.

"Did you… do this?" Sylphi asked, her voice trembling, low and strained. Her eyes, filled with a mix of disbelief and anguish, remained unwaveringly fixed on Lazarus. A solitary tear teetered on the brink of spilling over.

"I–" he began, but the urgent thudding on the wooden floor cut him off. The rapid footsteps of the maids grew louder, signaling their imminent arrival.

"I'll explain later, but I need to go," Lazarus's voice carried a hint of desperation.

"Wait!" Sylphi cried out, reaching to grasp his clothing. He evaded her grip, stepping back and shooting a frantic glance at the door. Confused by his behavior, she followed his gaze just in time to see the maids burst into the room.

"What happened here?" one of them exclaimed.

"He–!" Sylphi began, pointing in Lazarus's direction. But he had disappeared. It was eerily similar to that moment in the forest when he disappeared. It didn’t matter, more importantly–

"Please, help my mother!" Sylphi implored Rei, who nodded and swiftly knelt beside Sophirea.

“Zephyr's Breath, Wounds Undress, Restore, Impress.” Rei's chant resonated in the room, her palms glowing a vibrant green. Gently, she placed her hands on Sophirea’s chest.

“U-urghhh..” Sophirea's eyelids fluttered open.

“Mom!” Sylphi embraced her tightly, tears spilling down her cheeks. The relief of seeing her mother's eyes once more was like the first rays of dawn breaking through the darkest night.

“Sophirea, what happened?” Rei inquired, maintaining the radiant glow of her hands on Sophirea's chest.

“We... we found the young Prince,” Sophirea whispered weakly.

“Prince?” Rei's brows knitted in confusion.

“The exiled prince... Lazarus Valheart. He's on board this ship.”

Rei's eyes grew wide with realization and shock.

“What happened here!?”

Rei and Sylphi pivoted simultaneously, their gaze landing on a princess with golden tresses. Her eyes widened in unmistakable shock as she took in the scene before her.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chamber was bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of luminous stones, casting hues of aquamarine and violet onto the wood. These glowstones, nestled on ornate pedestals and adorning a table laden with maps, gave the room an otherworldly ambiance. Amid the gentle creaks of the ship, it felt like a hidden enclave beneath the waves, a place where time stood still.

"Haa-..Haa.." Lazarus leaned against the wooden wall for support, taking a moment to catch his breath even when he didn’t need to. "Fuck!" He muttered, frustration evident as he bashed the wall.

He'd discovered a seldom-used room, the thin layer of dust giving away its disuse. The disturbance he'd caused earlier had left a lot of places unguarded.

Rubbing his temples, Lazarus tried to piece things together. They were clearly out to get him, a fact made clear by Sophirea's diversion tactics and Silica's ambush. If only he'd gone all out from the get-go, then things might have ended differently. Maybe he’d saved Sylphi from the distress of watching her mother electrified.

-’She left me with no choice.’-

Lazarus sighed. He pondered, why did Sophirea go so far? Was it loyalty to that golden-haired monkey?

The memory of Sylphi's anguished eyes haunted him; she looked as betrayed as if he himself had turned on her. Yet she was unaware that it was them who attacked first.

Rubbing his temples, Lazarus's concerns shifted. He had to replenish his cloak's energy and find her. But the lingering thought of other beastmen potentially detecting him gnawed at him. Was the risk worth taking? Without explaining himself, Sylphi might continue to believe he had wronged Sophirea without cause.

Subconsciously, his jaw tightened, teeth grinding against each other. Was the gamble of reconciliation worth it? How incapacitated was Silica, really? Perhaps she was the sole one who could detect Lazarus. Why was he getting so entangled in these thoughts? He could simply move on, leaving the entire situation in the past. But something nagged at him, an itch he couldn’t ignore. At the very least, he felt compelled to set the record straight with that annoying elf.

How?

…

The thought alone opened a chasm in his stomach. He pondered, turning the situation inward—would he find it in himself to forgive if roles were reversed? If he'd witnessed someone attacking Rex? The answer came swift and unequivocal. He wouldn’t. The pit inside him seemed to widen, stretching the fabric of his resolve.

And then, he remembered what Sylphi did back on the island. Just remembering her warmth, he recalled that maybe there was an unspoken trust that maybe, just maybe, she might be willing to listen, to believe. With that fragile hope, the chasm inside him felt a little less daunting.

Lazarus stared at the wall for a brief moment. Closed his eyes, and sighed. He could only hope she wouldn't be too pissed at him. There’s also the potential of getting caught that worries him. If worse comes to worse, he could jump from the ship and just use a rope to tie himself at an angle where they couldn’t see him from above deck, and just tough it out being dragged along until he finds a shore. That way, even if they could smell him, they wouldn’t think to find him there. He could also just cloak if someone came to inspect.

He glanced at the energy in his screen that displayed 5% and sighed. No choice but to wait first.

—---------------------------------------------------

Large glowstones, embedded into the walls and hanging from ornate brass fixtures, emanated a soft, bluish hue that bathed the room in a calm, ethereal light. Long wooden tables, polished to a mirror finish, were meticulously arranged across the room, each laden with herbs and books.

At the corner of the room was a bed with an ornate canopy from which cascaded curtains of the finest silver-spun silk. On top of the bed, draped in a pristine maid's uniform, which clung to her slender form, she was an embodiment of elegance and grace. Her long, wavy blue hair spilled over the pillow like a midnight waterfall shimmering under a moonlit sky. Sophirea blinked a couple of times, rubbing her eyes. Upon noticing the presence beside her, her eyes flare up.

“Mom! Thank God you’re okay!” Tears glistened in Sylphi's eyes as she tried to blink them away.

Sophirea steadied herself, scanning the room. Her gaze landed on Anastasia, standing by the window. The gentle sea breeze played with her golden locks as she looked out at the vast ocean. Noticing Sophirea, Anastasia straightened and took a moment before gracing her with a smile.

“Your Highness, I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused.” Anastasia acknowledged her with a brief nod. Turning to Sylphi, Sophirea said softly, “I’m sorry for worrying you, my dear.”

Sylphi smiled weakly. “I’m just relieved you’re safe…”

Sophirea acknowledged her with a brief nod, then directed her attention to Anastasia. “Princess, my memory is hazy, but did I mention that Lazarus Valheart is aboard this ship?”

Anastasia's eyes held a hint of impatience. “Yes, you’ve already told me.”

Silent tension filled the space. Sylphi glanced between the two women, sensing the weight of the unspoken words. For a beat, everything was still. Then, with a subtle glance towards Sylphi and an understanding of what couldn't be said aloud, Sophirea chose her words carefully.

“The Prince... he's as unstable as we feared,” Sophirea whispered, a trace of regret coloring her tone.

Sylphi's eyes widened in shock, a retort forming on her lips. However, she remained silent, absorbing Sophirea's words.

“We approached him, tried to coax him back," Sophirea recounted, her voice tinged with disbelief. "But he lashed out without warning. No matter how I pleaded, he turned a deaf ear.”

Torn between her knowledge and emotions, Sylphi's gaze fell to her clenched fist. She wished to defend Lazarus, to assert that he wasn't capable of such actions. But the haunting memory of what she'd seen held her back.

Anastasia's brow furrowed, a delicate finger coming to rest on her chin in contemplation. "It's puzzling. Even taking that into account, that boy shouldn't have had the strength to overpower both of you."

Sophirea's expression darkened in thought. "Initially, we believed he was devoid of magic, but that display... Was it even magic?" The memory gnawed at her: Lazarus's hands wreathed in electric energy, absent of the characteristic runic circles and void of the mana signature she was trained to sense. "It was as if he wielded a kind of manaless magic."

Sylphi’s eyes widened. She recalled when Lazarus expended his ‘mana barrier’ and that she felt no mana from it. Not to mention when his hands were engulfed in electricity, she also didn’t feel mana from it. Why?

Anastasia leaned in, her eyes sharp. "What are you implying?"

Sophirea hesitated, piecing her words together. "It appeared as though he was channeling some sort of mana-free magic. Moreover, his hand-to-hand combat prowess was unlike anything I've ever encountered. Exceptionally refined and deadly."

Anastasia's lips moved almost imperceptibly, a murmur of disbelief escaping them, "That good for nothing did?" But her words were so hushed, they went unheard.

A quivering voice interrupted their exchange. "Could he... could he truly do such a thing?" Anastasia and Sophirea swiveled to find Sylphi, her eyes shimmering, fists clenched in turmoil.

Sophirea exchanged a fleeting, knowing glance with Anastasia before addressing Sylphi. "Regrettably, it seems so. Perhaps his years of isolation in that forest have taken a toll on his psyche," she said, her voice heavy with regret.

Before anyone could speak further, another voice chimed in, filled with skepticism. "You said he had used some kind of manaless magic, right?" Everyone turned to find a towering man by the doorway, the fabric of his white long-sleeved shirt strained against his muscular form.

Sophirea narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes?"

The man, Leo, shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, his eyes darting to the side. "Then he's not magicless, as we had assumed?" the question hung in the air.

"Correct," Anastasia responded, her voice imbued with unmistakable clarity. "But that doesn't alter the course we must take. He still needs to return with us to the Twilight Kingdom for the sake of the Twilight Princess."

Her orders had been explicit, and she found no cause to question them. No matter what unexpected truths they uncovered, her mission remained unaltered—and it was a mission she was more than willing to carry out.

Anastasia smiled, rising with an elegance that commanded the room. She flicked her hair back, catching the ambient light. "I must ask a favor," she began, her voice imbued with a solemnity that tugged at the heartstrings. "Would both of you assist us in locating my beloved brother? Regrettably, he has assaulted my maids, so caution is paramount. At the very least, we need to contain him. We might consider seeking the aid of Eve from the last of the White Fox Clan to heal his unstable mind. While I'm uncertain if her singular healing abilities can mend the mind, for my brother, we must explore every avenue." Her words resonated with heartfelt urgency.

Both Leo and Sylphi appeared uncertain, their expressions etched with doubt.

Sophirea reached out, gently placing her hand over Sylphi's. It was only then that Sylphi saw the burns marring Sophirea's skin, causing a pang of sympathy to strike her heart.

"We only seek to bring the prince back to her Majesty and the Twilight Princess," Sophirea implored, her eyes brimming with sincerity. "Our reunion today just reinforces its importance."

Meeting Sophirea's earnest gaze, Sylphi squeezed her hand in return. "In that case... I might be of assistance."

Anastasia and Sophirea then shifted their attention to Leo. Feeling the intense scrutiny of royalty, Leo shifted uneasily, scratching his head in a bashful manner. "Uh, I'll give it a shot, I suppose. Not entirely sure of my role in this, though."

Seeing the two commit, Anastasia's face brightened into a grateful smile, sharing a meaningful look with Sophirea.

—-----------------------------------------------

Lazarus whispered, "Cloak energy at full capacity," as he glanced at the indicator in the top right corner of his screen. Preparing an escape route was important. If his fallback plan involved clinging to a rope and being towed by the ship, then he needed to secure food first. With ample water already stored, he decided raiding the ship's pantry was the next logical step.

-=”Cloak engaged”=- A deep robotic voice resonated within his thoughts.

Navigating through a series of hallways, Lazarus came across several maids. Opting for discretion, he paused, letting the human attendants pass before resuming his trek. His neural chip worked diligently, constructing a mental blueprint of the ship as he progressed. Although unsure of the pantry's location, he was confident he'd locate it by systematically checking each room. Before entering any space, he would press an ear to the door, ensuring silence reigned within before cautiously stepping inside.

After several such investigations, he stumbled upon a demi-human busily sweeping the floor. Nearby, a human attentively polished a lavish-looking jar. Pulling up his internal database, Lazarus assessed the sensory abilities of rabbit demi-humans. While they possessed an acute sense of smell, it was far inferior to the keen olfactory capabilities of felines or canines. Deciding it was safe, he patiently waited for them to complete their tasks before moving forward.

—------------------------------------------------------------------

In the quietude of her room, Sylphi exhaled a weighty sigh, her thoughts a tempest of confusion and doubt. Could Lazarus, the man she thought she knew, have truly harmed her mother? She shook her head as if the gesture could scatter the shadows clouding her judgment. She had seen the act with her own eyes, after all.

"Mother would have no cause to provoke him, but I can't say the same for him if what they say is true." she pondered, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on her lap.

Could it be possible that Lazarus was plagued by some form of madness? She wasn't an expert on the subject, but she knew that many elven soldiers, scarred by the ravages of war, returned with volatile episodes of unpredictable violence. The annals of elven law also told a cautionary tale: human prisoners of wars long past had once been separated to forestall any potential collusion. The experiment failed catastrophically when isolation drove them to bouts of madness. Thus, the elven edicts had changed, decreeing that human prisoners should never be kept in prolonged isolation.

Lazarus had been exiled at a young age, abandoned to the solitary confinement of the wilderness. Could such loneliness have cracked the veneer of his sanity? The thought of him, alone and vulnerable since childhood, twisted her heart in a knot. Maybe what Lazarus truly needed wasn't judgment, but help—a lifeline in a world that had only offered him solitude.

Yet…

Recalling the past, Sylphi realized that from their very first encounter, Lazarus had always sought to reason with her. Subsequent meetings had followed a similar pattern: him attempting to explain himself, to make her understand his perspective. It was as if he was perennially on the defensive.

Yet the disconcerting image of him looming over her injured mother shattered this narrative, casting a pall over his past attempts at explanation. Sylphi let out another weighted sigh. Lazarus had promised to explain himself, and as much as she wanted to hold onto her former impressions of him, he would need to offer an account that could stand up to the gravity of what she had witnessed.

"He better have a compelling explanation," she thought, her eyes narrowing slightly. "He promised he would, after all."

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days had passed, and by now, Lazarus had become intimately familiar with the layout of the ship. Getting meager rations where he could without arousing suspicion, he had amassed enough food to last him several months. Although the nanites coursing through his system enhanced his metabolic efficiency, allowing him to extract more nourishment from less food, they also drew upon his energy reserves. The result was an almost equilibrium of intake and expenditure, a precarious balance between boon and burden.

Through a series of discreet experiments involving some of the ship's maids, he discerned a valuable piece of information: only those with canine or feline traits seemed to possess the sense to approximate his whereabouts. Luckily, it appeared that Silica was the sole individual on board who met those criteria.

Lazarus had also managed to set-up an escape route. Laboriously, he'd anchored a rope to a carved-out niche in the ship's exterior, a makeshift but sturdy point in case the need arose. The challenge of climbing the ship without a ladder had been tiring, but the rope now in place offered him a sliver of hope in case things go south.

With a quiet sigh, Lazarus found himself standing before Sylphi's door, still cloaked. The weight of his impending explanation hung heavy on his mind, a mental tightrope he'd need to walk without revealing too many details about his technology.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out, his fingers lightly grazing the cool doorknob. As he gave it a gentle twist, he found it immovable—locked.

"No other option but to knock, then," he thought, casting a glance back at the open sea. The sky was a dark tapestry devoid of moonlight, and he felt an unexpected kinship with the night's opacity. With most of the ship's inhabitants asleep and only a scant few guards assigned to Anastasia and Silica, he found the courage to proceed.

Knock. Knock.

The first attempt was met with silence. He knocked again, more insistently this time. Eventually, the sound of a groggy feminine voice filtered through the wooden door.

"Isn’t it a little late?"

In a muted tone, almost a whisper, Lazarus replied, "It's me, Sylph. It's Lazarus."

A soft "eh?" was followed by the sound of the lock disengaging. The door creaked open to reveal Sylphi, her blue hair a cascade of midnight waves. She was garbed in a transparent blue negligee that hovered like mist over a white, one-piece dress.

Sylphi's eyes darted around, seeing only the limitless sea beyond the ship's wooden railing. It was then that Lazarus deactivated his cloak, stepping into her line of sight from the shadows. Her eyes widened in a mix of surprise and recognition as he emerged from his invisibility, standing there as tangible as the tension that filled the air.

"Can I come in?" Lazarus inquired, his eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings. The path was illuminated just enough by the glowstones that remaining exposed in the corridor was a risk he couldn't afford.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Sylphi continued to gaze at him, eyes wide with surprise, until he gently prompted, "Sylphi?"

Startled back to the present, she quickly regained her composure. "Oh, ah, yes," she stammered, hastily gesturing for him to come inside.

Her room was spacious, featuring a desk and a generously sized bed tucked into a corner. Affixed to the wall was her bow and quiver, while her customary green garb and an array of leather belts, each holding a couple of daggers, lay neatly arranged on the desk.

Sylphi sat on the bed and stared at him as Lazarus positioned himself by the wall leaning against it whilst crossing his arms. For some reason he found it hard to meet her gaze but eventually forced himself to look into her gentle blue eyes that were affixed on him.

"So, about that incident with your mother and me." Lazarus started, the casual tone in his voice tinged with a hint of underlying tension. He carefully looked at Sylphi’s reaction before realizing he shouldn’t have started with that and said, “But first—how is she?”

Sylphi's brows knitted together, her expression severe. "She has recovered. But answer me straight—why did you attack her?"

"I didn't attack her; she came at me first. I was just defending myself," Lazarus insisted.

Sylphi shook her head, not buying his explanation. "That's not what my mother told me. She said she had approached you to offer a return to your family, and you responded with force. Explain yourself."

Frustration marred Lazarus's features. "Like I've said, it was her who attacked. They started it."

Their eyes met in a challenging stare, each trying to read the truth in the other's gaze.

"The princess has said that the Valhearts aimed to bring you back into the family. If that were true, why did you not just say yes or no? Was force really necessary?"

"Sylph, just listen," Lazarus cut in, his voice tinged with impatience. "Yes, they did say they wanted me back. But the real plan was to have me killed."

Sylphi's skepticism deepened, etching more lines onto her already furrowed brow. "Why would they want you dead? Ignoring you would keep things as they are; it makes no sense. And wouldn’t that serve to antagonize the Twilight Princess some more knowing full well that she left the Valhearts to search for you.."

Lazarus sighed, the weight of his next words heavy on his lips. " I was there when they discussed it. After you all left the dining hall, I overheard them. They were planning to kill me, not bring me back."

Sylphi massaged her temples and sighed. "That's hard to believe. Why would harming you make sense if their main goal is to bring back the Twilight Princess through you? And if you heard them, why didn't anyone see you? There’s nowhere to hide in the dining hall."

Lazarus clenched his teeth. Did he have to tell Sylphi of his cloaking technology? If he didn’t, she wouldn’t believe him. But if he did, and she somehow talked because it was forced out of her, then they’ll be wary of him and inform their entire death squad of this ability.

“Just, please believe me. I have methods I use to snoop around undetected.”

Watching Sylphi’s expression, it was clear she didn’t fully believe him.

“I don’t know what they’re thinking, but I have my own family. He is just taking a while to get here. And besides, they locked me up in the forest for years so would any person in their right mind return to a family who did that to them?”

Lazarus's mind raced, sifting through fragments of his past as he sought a rationale for the relentless hunt that plagued him. A glimmer of understanding flashed before him. "I think I know one reason they might want me dead."

Sylphi arched an eyebrow, her interest piqued.

"You've heard the rumors that I was manaless, haven't you?"

She gave a silent nod, her eyes never leaving his.

"They labeled it a disease. A disease that robs people of their ability to use magic." Lazarus continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. "People in the kingdom started falling ill, and they blamed it on me. Even the princess, Reisha, was affected. Their makeshift solution? Exile me so I couldn't 'infect' anyone else. But since I escaped, perhaps they’re looking for a more permanent fix since they’re afraid I’ll cause a pandemic."

Sylphi's gaze shifted, her eyes dropping to study her fingers as they flexed open and closed. "I've heard they considered enlisting Eve Luxaria, the last of the White Fox clan, to heal this disease of yours. However, now that you can indeed use magic, then she’ll only need to heal your psyche."

Lazarus shook his head, exasperated. "My Psyche doesn’t need healing. What makes you think I need that? But to correct you on one thing, no, I can’t use magic. What I have is something far more powerful."

Her eyes met his again, the arch of her brow reappearing. "And what might that be?"

"It's called Science," he declared.

She scrutinized him, seemingly piecing together fragments of a puzzle. "Is that the 'magic' you were using when your arms crackled with electricity as you attacked my mother?"

Lazarus sighed, wearied by the accusation. "For the last time, I didn’t attack her. I was defending myself."

"If you still don't believe me, then—"

His words were cut off as the room was suddenly awash in a haunting violet light. His eyes widened in astonishment. "What the—"

Before he could grasp the situation, the door burst open and a cadre of armed maids flooded into the room, weapons poised.

Slowly, he pivoted his gaze toward Sylphi, his eyes narrowing as realization washed over him like a chilling tide.

Sylphi’s eyes were widened. She looked at the maids in complete disbelief.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------