Eliron glanced at Alexander and frowned. On a normal day, Eliron was sure he would have not taken such risks....

Alexander, despite his easygoing attitude, was very logical, and coldly efficient. Although, now that the case pertained to Ciera, his logical side seemed to have dampened a bit.

Still, he must have been very certain that having him here would pose no threat...

Alex caught his stare and smirked, then he spoke, his words making it as though he could read Eliron’s mind. "Don’t worry, I have taken the necessary precautions..."

"Which are?" Eliron probed.

"No one has been allowed to see him since he arrived, I have also put him in a magic induced coma, oh..."

He paused, his smile deepening as he pointed at Eliron. "And you... you are my final assurance."

Eliron frowned, slowly shaking his head. What did he think he was? A personal bodyguard?

’The things people did for love...’ Eliron scoffed in his mind.

After the momentary diversion, Alex then went on to complete the story of everything that had happened, leaving nothing out.

Among everything, there was another interesting thing that the prince had told him. Apparently, Yennefer had been the one who treated Cavil.

Eliron found himself mildly impressed. He had just ran over the basics about how he was able to cure the baroness, it shouldn’t have been enough for her to learn how to heal him.

Did she somehow figure out her own method? Eliron chuckled internally. Maybe she was some sort of closet genius?

"So? What do you think?" Alex folded his hands across his chest, staring at Cavil’s unconscious self with a look of apprehension in his eyes.

Eliron’s face grew serious, his fingers brushing the hilt of his blade. "It sounds fishy..."

"Precisely." Alex stated in a matter of fact tone. "But regardless of if it is a trap or not, we have no choice but to see for ourselves."

"Our scouts are barely able to scrape out any information concerning the undead. If he at least has any valuable information it would be a big help..."

Alexander walked closer to the bed and leaned forward. "Please prepare yourself, I will wake him now..."

Eliron could sense the tension in his voice, the slight twitch of his brows when he made the request.

Because they both knew what that meant, what could possibly happen... If Cavil was deemed to be a threat of the kingdom, then he would be eliminated in an instant.

Ciera would never get to see her brother one more time, and they would both bear the weight of his death.

Eliron unsheathed his blade, flicking the sword around his wrist, before causally pointing it forward.

’So this is why he sent Ciera out...’ how would she have felt if she found out her brother was not truly unconscious, but forced into a magic induced coma? Or that they could potentially kill him?

Alex waved his hand in front of Cavil’s face, faint steamy mana following it, then he stepped back.

Cavil’s body twitched once, twice, and then he suddenly sat up straight, his eyes wide, unfocused and confused.

Even with the calmness spell Yen had casted on him previously, he was still frantic, how then would he have been if she had not casted any spell?

"Who are you? Where am I?!" Cavil screamed at the top of his voice.

"WHERE AM I?!"

His mana erupted, sending a gust of wind cutting past them.

Alex held him by both shoulders and screamed right at his face. "It’s me God damn it, put yourself together man!"

His unfocused eyes landed on Alex, and he seemed to calm down, for a second at least, before his eyes widened again...

"C-Ciera... where is my sister?? You have to get out of the city, Alex, you have to get her out of Donia!" He begged, spittle dripping down his mouth, not an ounce of worry for his own sorry state.

From what Eliron could see, it seemed he had been living with these injuries for some time now, or at least some of them.

"Get out of Donia? What are you talking about?" Alex asked, having to raise his voice to be heard over Cavil’s crazed ramblings.

"You have to go! You have to get out!" Tears formed in his eyes as he stared at Alex. "P-please Alex, PLEASE save me. Take me AWay from here, take me far away!"

He froze, and like an animal in the snow, he shivered, his eyes staring into nothing...

"That man... that man...." Sweat beaded on Cavil’s forehead, flowing down the side of his face.

What was left of his arms shook as he reached for his head, likely remembering old thoughts he was better off forgetting.

He occasionally took glances at the windows, as though the monster of his nightmares was seconds away from crashing in.

From what Alex had told Eliron, Cavil was a high ranking knight in Donia’s army. He had seen several battles, lived through the bloody battles with giants at the wall, where every day was a mercy.

Cavil was not a man that could be easily broken. And yet, there was no sign of him in the shadow of a man before Eliron.

Fear clung to him like a miasma, an illness that had swallowed him entirely. Courage had become a foregone concept, pride lost in whatever hell he had come out of.

He had been stripped down to what all humans were at the center, brought to the point that he only sought man’s most primal desire, survival.

’Just what did they do to you?’ Eliron wondered, his mouth turning bitter as his eyes moved through his body.

Each scar, each misshapen bone, each bruise, told a story, one that caused something bitter to crawl up his throat.

Whoever had done this, they had spent their time. Enjoyed themselves, basked in his screams, savoured the feeling of breaking him, unraveling him piece by piece...

A darkness shrouded over Cavil’s features as he looked up to meet Alex’s gaze.

"...He is death." Cavil whispered.

An overwhelming pressure suddenly descended upon the small room, one so great that even Eliron forgot to breathe.

The air felt cold, chilly, and it was as though an invincible force was being pressed against their chests, restricting their breathing. Each breath was laboured, and each gust of air far more valuable than it should have been.

Cavil’s eyes flickered from hazel to a phantomless black, his hair took the same colour, as purple veins appeared on his skin, pulsing like beats of a drum.

A nasty smirk tore through his lips—a crazed laugh—a blackened tongue rolling out of his mouth in a mock grin.

Alex immediately tried to pull away, at the same time, Cavil went for his head, the stumps about to clasp around him when Eliron’s sword flashed.

Black blood spewed upon white sheets, what was left of Cavil’s arms landing vulgarly on the bed.

Yet there was no scream, not even an ounce of discomfort in those black eyes. Only amusement.

The prince stumbled back, a dark gaze in his face as he stared at Cavil. "Cavil?! Pull yourself together Cavil!"

Cavil responded with a guttural laugh, a cackle that caused a chill to run through Eliron’s bones.

That was not Cavil, it was something else.

The entity did a mock bow, the smirk never leaving his face.

"Secon Apostle representing the benevolent Lord of Death, Sataen, at your service. Your majesty..."