Days passed once more. The Biovore corvette made great speed across the waves. With its sails bolstered by magic from Andrealphus and its front tugged powerfully along by the enormous form of Marchosias, the living ship cut across the waters like a knife as it made its way to the inner seas, where the heart of the Slaver Isles awaited.Even as they moved faster than Eri’s most optimistic predictions, the youth could not help but worry frantically. They might already be too late. Even if they weren’t, it seemed unlikely he could make it in time.Still, he did not succumb to despair, if only because the thought that he might have already lost Elen was too much to bear.To distract himself, he sought to understand his companion’s inexplicable bout of suicidal stupidity in joining him.“You realise this will have consequences, right?” he demanded. “News of this will spread. Your association with me could lead the Church's inquisitors or imperial agents to target you. You would lose your noble status. They might even execute you for heresy.”In the face of such dire threats, Joarris’s group looked unconcerned.“I mean, we are already associated too deeply with you for anyone to ignore,” Julie pointed out. “Four years together, and none of us suspected a thing? No one would ever believe that.”“Except we didn’t really suspect him at all. None of us knew of his true nature,” Bori complained. “Raharim even thought he was a Saint reborn.”“I mean, he could still be one,” Raharim hesitantly said. “He still hasn’t told us who he really is yet.”“What, (...)