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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Fifty-Nine: A Volley Of Passion, Pt 2.

She struggles with her breaths, her lungs fluttering as much as her heart. Opening her fiery eyes and turning them down, she admires a truly splendid sight. She lay on her back, her lover above her. Resting on his forearms and knees, her beloved tends to her womanly mounds, kissing the charcoal-colored flesh of her mammaries before gently lapping at the blue flesh of her nipples. He shifts to one side and glides a hand so softly over her flesh, moving over her toned belly and slipping it betwixt her legs. With her mouth agape, Lutala coos at his touch.

“Oh, Sal!" She cries out, feeling him rubbing her womanhood.

After a brief moment of pleasuring her, his hand slides over her elegant form once again, returning to her chest. His hands envelope her ample breasts, his long, flowing hair tickling her sides and belly as he inches ever closer. His manhood, so full and thick, pulsates with every beat of his heart. He spreads her legs wider and lifts them up, lowering himself and taking aim. Is this the moment she's so desperately waited for?! His masculine organ inches ever closer, the warm, bulbous head of his manhood pressing against the light-blue and dripping wet flesh of her loins.

“Take me, Sal. Please." She begs.

“I love you, Lutala."

“And I love you, Salman. I love you so much!"

“I am forever yours." He assures her, staring deeply into her eyes, his nose brushing the front of her snout.

“And I am yours, my love. Always." She coos, leaning in closer, her lips hovering over his.

Their lips press together as the pair prove their passion. He pushes his manhood firmly, spreading her loins and causing her to gasp and cry out. Suddenly, a strange noise distracts her. Shaken from her sleep, the priestess opens her eyes to find herself alone in her bed. Looking down, one of her clawed hands has found itself between her legs, cupping her womanhood as if to guard it. Realizing what she had actually been doing in her sleep, she flushes and swiftly pulls her hand away, her blue flesh darkening with embarrassment as she sees the viscous fluid on her fingertips. Voices shout at each other in the next room, drawing her attention. She sits up in her bed and listens.

“Don't change the subject! Did you truly mean what you said about that guard?!" Irzain growls.

“What is it with you men?! Why are you all so insecure?!" Mairlynn snaps back.

“We're in a relationship, aren't we?! I have a right to know if the woman I choose to partner with is going to be faithful to me!"

“Faithful?!?! Hah! We're not in a relationship, Irzain! We may be partners but we're nothing more than sexual partners! You pleasure me and I pleasure you! Don't complicate it!"

“Mair..." His voice softens.

“... Alright, fine! Yes, I meant it! I'd have taken him down to his balls, and I'd have compared how good he was to you, just like I compare how good you are to Sa-"

“Alright!!!" He screams, a hint of pain in his voice.

Lutala feels the sting in her chest as she sits up in bed, listening to their bickering. She'd known that Mairlynn and Salman were together, before the Lahnyt priestess had ever become close to him. Unlike Kirsta, who'd also slept with Salman, but appeared remorseful for having succumbed to her dark urges, forcing herself upon the Lord of Mishgan, Mairlynn's unapologetic and perverse nature somehow makes the pain that much worse.

“Get out."

“What?" Mairlynn asks with a startled laugh.

“Get! Out! I want to sleep alone tonight!"

“But... This is my room!" Mairlynn shouts back.

“Fine! I'll leave!"

The door opens so violently that it slams into the wall with a thunderous bang. Irzain stomps on the floorboards, heading back to his own room and quickly slamming the door shut with equal force. Unable to return to sleep, knowing the nightmare that awaits her if she does, Lutala decides to stay awake throughout the night. She'd rather dream of herself with her beloved Salman,vas she was before, but after overhearing the fight, she knows what will happen upon returning to the dream world. She will be forced to witness a torturous display, observing from a corner or behind glass as Mairlynn and possibly even Kirsta take turns indulging in carnal pleasure with Salman, and all while Lutala is left out.

Why must her mind play such evil games? She shakes her head, as if the unpleasant thoughts will be expelled by the force. It won't matter for much longer. Soon enough, she'll be back on Mishgan, and then she can finally reconcile with Salman and start over. As she sits up in bed, she gazes upon her unclothed body. So young, so supple, taut in all of the right places and plump in the others. She is a perfect vision - in days long passed she would have been idolized for possessing the beauty of a goddess - and yet scrawny little Mairlynn has enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh, while Lutala can only dream of it. As her thoughts become increasingly wrathful and gloomy, she's saved from herself by the grumbling of her stomach.

“Thank you." She cannot help but murmur, looking upon her flat belly, her nearly pitch-black flesh gleaming in the soft overhead light.

Rising from her bed, she pulls on her humble, earth-colored robes, the garments of a priestess of Yashuva. Leaving her room, she finds the door to Mairlynn's cabin ajar. As Mairlynn's cabin sits beside her own, she cannot help but peek inside as she passes by. The diminutive Falmun isn't present. Continuing through the corridor, Lutala steps through the archway separating the hallway from the lounge, at the rear of the ship. Aside from a shattered window and a hole in the wall, destroyed by Empirical cannon fire, it is otherwise intact. Sitting at a dining booth and pouring a tankard of wine, Mairlynn looks ready to drown her sorrows.

“Hi, Lutala." She speaks in a soft, dry monotone.

“Hello, Mair. Are you alright?"

“Oh, I'm just fine!" Mairlynn smacks the cork back into the clay bottle. “Except for this. We've emptied the last sack, now we're down to the cheap wine."

“Alcohol isn't exactly the best substance to consume when you're upset." Lutala remarks, taking the bottle and a spare tankard and pouring herself a drink.

“I'm not upset!" Mairlynn retorts, flashing a strange grin. “Besides, even if I was, drinking my pain away is better than what you did. I've never forced my will upon others like that! ... Refusing to treat a wounded Prince." The little elf shakes her head in disapproval.

“I still tended to him, didn't I?" Lutala snaps back.

“Only partially! We're only taking you to Mishgan because you left us with no choice; you won't ensure his well-being until we do. That's extortion." Mairlynn smirks.

“Perhaps it is, and I will continue to 'extort' you until my one and only demand is met." Lutala narrows her eyes, glaring at the tiny elven woman.

Mairlynn's ruby eyes scan Lutala's features for a moment before her posture softens. She seems to silently chuckle as she brings the tankard to her lips, which looks so large when compared to her dainty hands. Lutala takes a seat across from the Falmun and sips her drink. With every glance away from her tankard, she's met with the strange stare of the small woman, who appears to ponder something. As her frustration grows, she growls and glares.

“What?" She sets down the tankard and focuses on the elf.

“I was just thinking..."

“Good for you." Lutala murmurs.

“So snippy! I bet a good night's sex would make you a lot happier. That's always a good treatment for ill spirits!" Mairlynn suddenly chirps.

“You would know..." Lutala grumbles.

“And you wouldn't?" Mairlynn raises a brow.

“..."

Lutala turns her head, averting her eyes from Mairlynn and looking toward the shattered windows that line the wall at the stern of the ship.

“... Really?! I mean, I've heard you religious types can be prudish but... REALLY?!" Mairlynn leans closer, her hands atop the table.

The Falmun seems almost gleeful at the prospect, her ruby eyes scanning the increasingly uncomfortable Lahnyt, who slumps back in her chair. Once again, her blue flesh darkens with her mounting embarrassment.

“Yes... I've, uhm... I've never known the flesh of a man."

“Why?" Mairlynn asks in an innocent tone, cocking her head to one side.

“I'm saving myself, being true to my faith and to me. It's forbidden to take a partner, to feel their flesh and make love to them, not without loving their spirit first. I've been waiting for the right one, for a man to claim my heart, but I've waited for so long... Almost twelve years, ever since I first came of age, when boys suddenly seemed less stupid and disgusting and more alluring." Lutala sighs.

“Well, that explains a lot... I enjoyed my first man shortly after my first bleed! I've never allowed myself to suffer like you!" The dainty, childlike elf brags.

“Good for you..." Lutala quietly growls.

“You know, if it's just penis you want, why not have Steingar's?" Mairlynn casually remarks.

“..."

“I mean, what does it matter who it belongs to, so long as it brings you pleasure?"

“I would never surrender my virginity so casually, and besides, I'm not interested in Steingar." Lutala sternly replies.

“As you wish... Why are you so captivated by Salman, anyway? Is it because you've seen him naked, down at the bottom of the ocean? He went down in armor and came up in only his pretty skin. If a large penis is what you desire, I've peeked in on Steingar too, and while he isn't quite as large as Salman or Valan, he's a greater man than most. In fact, all of the men who've been aboard this ship, to my knowledge, have exceptionally large penises! We're all very lucky!"

“It's not about that, you foul little wench!" Lutala snaps.

“Huh?!"

“I love him!"

“Oh... I'm sorry."

“For what?" The confused Lahnyt raises an orange brow.

“You think you're in love with a man. You and Jarae are both making a grave mistake. You'll see, one day..."

Lutala is dumbfounded by Mairlynn's response. Left speechless, she stares with wide eyes as Mairlynn takes another drink.

“I thought I was in love once, decades ago, back when I was young and dumb. Over the years he proved to me that love doesn't truly exist." The elf continues. “All we can ever hope for is the occasional moment of pleasure, however fleeting, something for us to savor in our old age. Fond memories of the joys we had when we were young and beautiful. The fine food, the warm, soft beds, the warm, hard flesh of a man." She winks. “Pleasure and pleasurable memories are all we have in life. Love does not exist."

“Well... Thank you for your words. You have given me much to think about."

“Oh?!" Mairlynn perks up.

“Yes. After hearing that, I no longer feel sorry for myself. Now I can only feel sorry for you." Lutala speaks softly.

“..."

“Irzain cares for you, and so did Salman. You've had so many chances to enjoy far more than mere sex. Your past has tainted you. You see, love isn't what you think it is, and neither are men. Love is like a candle that never burns out, like an oil lamp that is always full, and not all men are like your previous lover. You're sealing yourself into a little box, without any holes with which to breathe. One day, many years from now, when you're old and lonely and have no one to be there for you, I may still have Salman.

We may still love each other, and if we have children together, they will love us and care for us, and when we're gone, having rejoined Yashuva in Heaven, we will be missed. What will become of you, should you continue to treat men like objects? What will your fate be, if you cannot see that not all men are despicable, and live only to serve your petty, sexual whims? Will anyone miss you when you finally cross over or will they place you in a hole, wipe their hands clean and carry on with their lives, never giving you a second thought?"

Mairlynn is speechless. Her ruby eyes are as wide as saucers as she stares at the Lahnyt priestess, who casually sips her wine.

“I will pray for you, Mair. I will pray that you find true happiness someday."

“Uhm... Thanks..." Mairlynn murmurs, slowly sliding out from the booth. “I should... Probably get going... To, uhm... To bed..."

“Goodnight, Mair."

“Yeah... Goodnight, Lutala..."

Taking her leave, Mairlynn heads for the archway only to gasp as Harokian steps forward.

“Oh! Sorry!" He apologizes.

He holds up his good arm, the other relegated to a sling.

“That's alright, big guy." She coos, eying his form.

With her lustful gaze fixated upon the towering, blue-skinned elf, she drinks in his handsome image. As her eyes look toward his groin, pondering what he hides beneath his trousers, she recalls what Lutala had said to her only a moment ago. She cannot help herself and glances toward Lutala. Turning around in her seat and looking back at the pair, the priestess's lips are contorted with disappointment and condescension. Mairlynn's expression changes. She turns back toward Harokian and steps aside.

“Goodnight and sweet dreams, Prince." She says, before passing him by.

“You, too." He replies.

He watches her for a moment as she traverses the corridor, stopping at Irzain's cabin door and softly knocking. Harokian heads for a table, choosing the booth adjacent to Lutala's. He slowly takes a seat, wincing as he holds onto his wounded shoulder. He shifts his eyes and stares rather sheepishly at the blue and black-skinned Lahnyt.

“Is the pain severe?" She asks, a displeased look on her face.

“Sometimes. It's always sore but it only truly pains me when I move about."

“Sorry." She murmurs, lifting her tankard to take another drink.

“That's alright..."

His shimmering, golden eyes scan her form, his mind racing. His curiosity grows like a wildfire and soon he cannot help himself. He shifts atop the bench, turning around and placing his back against the table.

“Lutala, is it?"

“Yes."

“I just wanted to say... ..."

He pauses as he ponders his words.

“Well?" She sighs with frustration.

“I wanted to thank you, for treating my wound."

“..."

She turns in her seat, and raises an orange brow. What a perplexing thing for him to say, considering that he knows she is withholding proper treatment until her demands are met.

“I appreciate what you're doing for me, and I also wanted to say that I'm not upset with you."

“Thank you for removing the weight from my conscience." She sarcastically retorts, turning back to her table and taking another drink.

“How could I be? I spent the last day thinking, and I realized that if I could do something drastic, something that could bring my father back, something that would ensure the safety of my mother and Sa-..."

He pauses and takes a breath, his obvious discomfort once again drawing Lutala's attention.

“I would do anything for them... Anything... Even if it meant that others might suffer... So, you see, I cannot be angry with you for wanting to return to Mishgan. You must have a powerful reason for doing what you're doing."

Lutala grits her teeth, her lips peeling back as she struggles to contain her tears. Her clawed hand squeezes the tankard, her claws pressing into the wood and leaving indentations.

“Is that where your family is?" He asks in a soft, non-threatening voice.

“No... It's where my love is." She speaks in a near whisper.

“I'm sorry?"

“Salman..."

She turns in her seat, the tears streaming down her face and leaving a glinting stream on her blue flesh. She sniffles and raises an arm, using a sleeve to wipe her tears away.

“I left Salman, my love, on Mishgan."

“He did not wish to come with you?"

“He and I... Our relationship is complicated..."

“Isn't it always?" Harokian flashes a little grin.

“I suppose... He was struggling with a previous relationship, just as we were growing close. I felt my love for him growing. He asked for more time but I was so angry, so jealous. I left him, thinking that would make things better, that I would fall out-of-love, just as I had fallen into it. I left to continue this mission, to seek out my family, who fled back to our native lands, but I realized before I even set foot on the shores of Ogrodin that I had made a mistake. All I want to do is find him and reconcile, and I pray to Yashuva that we can continue where we left off. We can grow in our love. I'm ready for that, now."

Hearing her heartfelt story, Harokian sits in awe. He blinks and the water runs from his teary eyes, which he quickly wipes away.

“I understand, completely. I had a love, too... Saya. She was taken by the soldiers, the ones who came before you."

“I'm sorry."

“So am I. If I could save Saya, even at the cost of another, I would struggle to stop myself from doing it."

“It takes a man to admit something like that." She murmurs.

“I suppose... I'm sorry for prodding, Lutala. I understand why you're doing this. All I ask is that you do something for the pain."

Thoroughly riddled with guilt, Lutala subtly nods her head. She slides out of her booth, her long, tapering tail dragging along the wooden floorboards as she steps closer. The palms of her hands begin to glow with a strange, gleaming white light as she sits beside the elven Prince. Removing his bandages and pulling back his tattered shirt, she looks upon the through-and-through gunshot wound. His light-blue flesh is darkened, nearly purple, and puffy with a growing infection. What tremendous pain he must be in. What has she done to this kindhearted and innocent man?

As her eyes well with tears, she places her hands upon his wound and the light glows brighter. Harokian winces and groans, turning his head away and shielding his sensitive eyes from the blinding light. As it dims, he sighs, his breathing hastened by the pain of his mending shoulder. She takes her hands away, and Harokian gazes upon a perfectly healed shoulder. The infection is gone. With wide eyes, he turns to her.

“You healed me? Completely?" He asks in shock.

“Yes..." She slowly nods her head, her head bent forward and snout pointing toward her lap.

“Thank you! But... Why? I could have waited."

Hearing his words, she once again bares her teeth in sorrow. She brings her hands to her face and covers her eyes as she begins to cry.

“I'm so sorry! It was wrong of me to do that to you. You don't deserve to suffer because I am in pain." She begins, her words shaken by her sobbing. “I healed you because it was the right thing to do."

“Well, again, I thank you, but... Well... This doesn't give you any leverage."

“I know." She sniffles. “But I could not continue to sit by and let you suffer for me."

Harokian can see the agony of the priestess, who continues to cry into her palms. He slides closer and rests the hand of his now fully healed shoulder onto hers. Giving her shoulder a little squeeze, she lifts her head and turns toward him. With a warm, little smile spreading across his face, he subtly nods his head. The Prince's warmth is astounding, and soon Lutala finds herself resting against his chest, crying, his arms wrapped around her.

“I don't deserve your forgiveness." She murmurs.

“Well, you have it... And you will have Salman, too."

“How?" She sniffles.

“I'll pretend."

She pulls away and gazes up at him, staring in shock at the warmth of the Prince.

“I'll wear my sling and pretend to be injured, until we can return you to your love."

“Why would you do that for me?" She asks, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“I suppose..."

He pauses for a moment, then stands tall and slips his arm back into the sling. Harokian takes a few steps toward the archway, only to stop and glance back at her.

“I suppose if I was in your place, suffering as you are, I would want someone to do that for me." He flashes a little smile. “Goodnight, Lutala."

“Goodnight, Prince."

“Ugh... 'Prince'. Couldn't it just be 'Harokian'?" He seems to think aloud.

“Of course."

Racing at full speed, the crew reach Mishgan in a matter of days. Harokian had only been on a handful of ships, none as fast as the Arona-Dahl. As they stand atop the tattered deck, watching the island growing larger and clearer, Lutala's claws dig into the wooden railing.

“Almost... Almost!" She grins.

“Well, this looks like it'll be goodbye." Jarae remarks.

The Jaliscan and her fiance, Valan, Salman's twin brother, stand to the right of the Lahnyt priestess. To her left is Harokian, who dutifully wears his sling, as he'd promised. The others are scattered about the main deck, with Steingar in the pilothouse.

“I know... We will miss you." Mairlynn turns to Jarae.

“So will we." Jarae reaches out and rests a hand atop Mairlynn's head, ruffling her golden hair. “You've been a wonderfully entertaining companion.

“Well, I'm pleased to hear compliments, for a change!"

“I'm wondering what we'll do without you!" Kirsta chuckles, turning to Lutala. “Maybe fall ill and die in the first week?"

“Give it at least a month. We're not that incompetent." Irzain quips.

“Well, either way, it's going to strange without smelling all of those rancid potions... Hey... Is that smoke?!" Kirsta points toward the sky.

“I thought it was a dark cloud." Harokian remarks.

“No, no... That's far too dark. Now that we're closer, it looks more like a plume." A concerned Kirsta approaches the railing.

Lutala's heart races as the ship draws nearer to the isle. After an agonizing wait, they can finally see from where the smoke originates. The castle of Mishgan, Salman's family home, is obliterated. A tower has collapsed and the walls are filled with holes from cannon fire. A few bodies lie near the docks, with several more leaving a trail toward the castle.

“No, no, no, no, no!" Lutala almost chants. “Please, Yashuva, no!"

Before they can moor to the dock, the Lahnyt climbs atop the railing, pulls off her robe to reveal her undergarments beneath, and dives into the water. Swaying her body like an eel, she swiftly swims beneath the docks. Just as the Arona-Dahl drops anchor and Trellan's spirit extends the gangplank, Lutala finds herself alone on the shore, staring at nearly a dozen corpses. All of them belong to Salman's guard, soldiers entrusted to act as the islands military and police force.

“Lutala! Wait for us!" Kirsta shouts as she dashes down the gangplank.

“We're coming!" Irzain exclaims.

The crew barrel down the wooden ramp, most of them only lightly armed. They weren't expecting such a horrific sight. Lutala doesn't wait long. She races toward the castle, her feet crunching the soft blades of grass and kicking up the soil of the well-traveled path which leads to Salman's family castle.

“Salman?! Salman!" She shouts as she crosses over the threshold.

“Roak?! Are you here?!" Kirsta exclaims, entering just behind Lutala.

“Naemen?!" Steingar shouts, his hands cupped around his snout.

The entire castle is riddled with holes, and several dinged cannonballs sit on the floor or remain embedded in the walls. The stench of the rotting corpses reveals that the battle was long ago. Harokian covers his mouth and nose, shocked and sickened by the awful sight. Is this his fault?! As Lutala checks all of the rooms, they find nothing but ruin and death. Her memory of the complex is superb, considering the short amount of time they'd spent there. As they enter Salman's study, Mairlynn smirks, recalling the carnal passion she'd shared with the Lord. Her amusement is quickly cut short, however, when they find legs emerging from behind Salman's desk.

“Oh no!" Lutala freezes.

She appears too fearful to continue on, staring at the legs, which are covered in similar trousers and pants. Kirsta looks toward the priestess, seeing the agony of uncertainty. She moves around the desk and looks for her.

“It's Nazir."

“Oh..."

Lutala's expression softens, but only for a moment. Her sorrow over the death of Salman's elderly Falman manservant and friend is readily apparent.

“How did he die?" Irzain asks.

“A cannonball." Steingar leans over the desk, peering down at the corpse.

Harokian steps around the desk, both eager and afraid to look. He's shocked by the sight of the elderly Falmun. The diminutive elf is missing most of his torso, with his head attached to a broken spine that's bent unnaturally to one side. The sight of the gore and the maggots makes the inexperienced young Prince turn and heave. Steingar steps closer, patting him on the back.

“Would you like me to hold your hair for you?" He teases.

No one chuckles. Jarae and Kirsta roll their eyes, while Valan shakes his head. Harokian twists his body and pulls away, before racing for the doors.

“What?! I was just joking!"

“Come on, brother." Valan motions to Steingar. “We still need to find Salman and the others."

Room after room, they search for the missing Lord and his companions. They never find him, nor do they find Roak, Naemen or his sister, Salasha. The dark-skinned human and the Lahnyt half-breeds have also disappeared, along with a series of ships. As they stand atop the castle, amidst the bodies of several soldiers, they look toward the docks and scan the area. The few ships that would often be present are gone, and even the incomplete dock made special for the Arona-Dahl is empty.

“They must have escaped." Valan thinks aloud, standing near the stone-built wall that surrounded the castle's flat roof.

“Come on, Val. You're ugly, not an idiot." Steingar rests a hand on his shoulder. “They've probably been captured. They may even be dead."

“Shut up, Steingar!" Jarae growls, smacking his hand away from her lover's shoulder. “Stop with that kind of talk!"

“It's true!" He swiftly retorts. “Look at this place?!"

“That doesn't mean that they didn't see it coming." Kirsta interjects.

“Exactly!" Jarae nods.

“Do you really think Salman would leave Nazir behind? He was a loyal servant and it was obvious that Salman and he were close." Irzain chimes in.

“My thoughts exactly." Steingar nods.

“So just give up?! Accept that my brother is dead?!" Valan growls.

“Better now than later, don't you think?"

“What is wrong with you?!" Jarae roars.

“Take a look around! This place is a portrait of death!" Steingar snarls.

“What about the others?! Give up on them too?!"

As the group bickers in the background, Lutala leans against the stone-built wall. She turns her head and looks upon the mangled, putrid bodies of the soldiers that once protected Mishgan, and the man who ruled it. She looks to the sky and a tear streams down her cheek. She can feel it in her heart; Salman is not dead. They just need to find him. Her sorrow and pain swiftly evolve, morphing into an insane rage. How dare Vashalak and his goons keep her from her beloved! She bows her head and grits her teeth, the anger bubbling to the surface.

“I can't believe you, Steingar. You're like a brother to me. I'd die for you, and yet you won't even help me?!" Valan shouts.

“I love you like a brother, too, but I'm a realist! We need to think about the bigger picture! Getting Harokian to Ogrodin and stopping the Empire's reign of terror is all we can do!" Steingar retorts.

“I have to agree." Irzain adds.

“We cannot just give up on him!" Valan shouts.

“Look at this place and tell me, with honesty, that there's hope!" Steingar barks back.

“SHUT! UP!" Lutala screams, clutching her head in her hands.

A bolt of green lightning erupts from the clear, cloudless sky, striking the stones of the castle's roof and startling everyone. Mairlynn shrieks and Jarae jumps, throwing himself into Valan's loving embrace. The bodies of the dead begin to twitch and tremble, the rancid corpses shifting as they begin to rise. Harokian has never seen anything so sinister before. The zombified guards rise to their feet, standing as still as statues.

“Salman. Is. Alive... And so are the others..."

The crew turn their attention to Lutala, who slowly turns around. The wind blows, rustling their clothes and hair. Opening her eyes, Lutala reveals their sickly, green glow.

“We just need to find them... Right?" She cocks her head and turns toward Steingar. “Don't we need to find them, Captain?"

Steingar, the strong and powerful Helngar warrior, audibly gulps as he looks to the nearly dozen zombies. Many still wear their armor and bear weapons, swords which they pull from their sheaths. The monstrosities are clearly under Lutala's control. Her magic is powerful, almost as powerful as her desire to find her beloved.

“Yeah..." He speaks in a near whisper. “We just need to find them."

“Good... Then I suggest we return to the ship and start looking." Lutala flashes a sinister grin.

With Lutala and her zombies leading the way, they walk rather casually throughout the castle, making their way to the ground floor before heading back to the Arona-Dahl. Purposefully lagging behind, Steingar leans over and whispers to Kirsta and Irzain.

“The first chance we get, we need to part ways with that woman."

“Agreed. She's endangering the mission." Irzain whispers back.

“She's not a bad person. She's just in pain." Harokian remarks, speaking in a normal volume.

“Shh!" Steingar glares.

“I'm sorry, Prince, but your life is one-thousand times more important." Irzain quietly remarks.

“You can bring peace and stability to an Empire in turmoil." Kirsta adds.

“Do you remember how Cydren pleaded with us to take you away from Fol?" Steingar asks.

“I know that you're right, but try not to be so cold. Give her time. One island, maybe two, and I think I can talk her down. I believe that she can still see reason." Harokian pleads with them.

“Are you sure about that, Prince?" Irzain raises a brow before shifting his eyes toward Lutala and her undead guards.

“Aren't you? This world is dark enough. We need to illuminate the darkness. Please, don't harm her. We can resolve this peacefully."

Kirsta cannot help but chuckle, albeit silently, at the Prince's heartwarming attempt to defend the very woman who has withheld his treatment and hijacked their mission which would secure not only his future but the future of an Empire. What a difference a life among the common folk has done for the man. Was it the hard work or the compassion of his loving parents? Was it growing up unspoiled, having to work for what he had which gave him such a warm heart? Or does the elven Prince merely come from good stock? Whatever the case may be, he's a refreshing change from the stereotypical noble, as was Salman.

“Alright, Prince. We'll try it your way... For now." Steingar grumbles.