The sun was mercifully behind the clouds, and the wind played merrily over the calm sea. It was an uncharacteristically clear day in the waters off Illsveil. Decidedly, too clear. But was anyone to notice?
A boy and a man leaned over a railing on the starboard deck of the prisoner transport, watching Meria Boule vanish behind a liquid horizon. A single door to a prisoner's cell had been opened, and the uniformed man held the keys. Not a word or a movement passed between them, until one decided to break this uneasy silence.
"…Not even the sea escapes the wind." The man mused, apparently for no reason.
"Nobody can tell the wind where not to blow." Raymond answered, contemplatively watching the shadows of the last seagulls sweep over the water. Pretty soon, they would be far out at sea, and the birds would be gone. The man laughed, but bitterly. "Very true. And yet, nobody can tell the wind where to blow, either."
"…" Raymond stared at the water with a trancelike quiet.
The man shifted his gaze to something nonexistent, far, far out over the water. "Haven't you ever wanted that kind of freedom?"
Raymond pondered long before coming up with an answer. "…I don't believe in absolutes."
"Not even, evil?"
"Evil simply doesn't exist… Not until made real by the heart of man. But even then, man's heart is forever tainted… And so, not even evil can be perfect."
"Do you believe, then, that even a demon could have a heart?"
"If it could be called that." Raymond replied.
"Your father is an expert on Demon Summoning, isn't he?"
"He was an extraordinary scholar. But he failed to realize that even academia must bow to the will of the king."
"And what about you?"
"I am…"
He never was able to give out that answer. The prisoners rattled the doors to their cells, an unusual gesture since a few moments ago, even the last of them had given up hope. They were all going to Illsveil. Raymond turned his head to see, and when he turned back, the man was gone. Raymond caught a glimpse of one cell. There was something other than human in that one. And another. And another. And another. He recognized this trend, he had seen mention of it in all of his father's books. This was, 'Demon Summoning'.
"…Father?" he breathed, in disbelief. Was this his doing? But his rational mind said, no.
It would just be a matter of time before it affected him, too. He had to get out before that happened. He climbed over the railing, perched precariously over transport's chaotic wake, the churning blades. He let go.
Kill! The impulse rushed like electricity through his being, too deafening to be ignored. Raymond knew, as he plummeted to the water, that he must not, could not, would not obey. He closed his eyes, but he knew he still changed. His shell collided with the rotor blades. They were blunted.
He struggled for control, and won a small victory. I am not your puppet, he thought, beyond consciousness, and swam in the direction pointed out by instinct.
The cure was in Meria Boule…