The salty sea breeze brushed against Euphemia's cheek as she slowly opened her eyes.
The blinding sunlight made her instinctively raise her hand to shield her eyes. Through her fingers, she saw only a gray-blue sky and circling seabirds.
"Where… am I?"
She tried to push herself up, but her arms felt as heavy as lead.
Her ornate court dress was completely soaked through, clinging tightly to her body, every inch of fabric dragging her down.
Gritting her teeth, she summoned all her strength to roll onto her side. Seawater dripped from her hair, leaving dark stains on the sand.
"Lelouch? Everyone? Is anyone there—?"
Her voice sounded pitifully faint against the vast emptiness of the shoreline, quickly swallowed by the roar of the waves.
Euphemia struggled to sit upright and looked around. All she saw was beach, ocean, and in the distance, the dark outline of a forest.
"The Avalon's attack…" Fragments of memory slowly pieced themselves together. She recalled the deafening explosion—the blinding flash of fire, followed by a massive shockwave.
Instinctively, she touched her left arm. A fresh scrape had already formed a thin scab.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. As a Britannian princess, she must remain composed even in the midst of a looming crisis.
Checking her belongings—her earpiece was gone, and even the communicator in her pocket was nowhere to be found.
"Damn it!" The crude expletive slipped out before she could stop it, surprising even herself.
She covered her mouth, glancing around to make sure no one heard, then sighed in relief.
The wind grew stronger, and the wet dress clung to her skin, sending chills down her spine.
Euphemia shivered, realizing she needed to find her knights or rescue personnel as soon as possible.
She tried to stand, but her high heels sank deeply into the soft sand, causing her to stumble.
"This is just…" Biting her lip, she hesitated for a moment before finally making up her mind.
Gathering the heavy fabric of her skirt in both hands like a bundle of firewood, she hoisted it high, revealing her slender calves.
"If my etiquette instructor saw this…" Euphemia chuckled wryly, imagining how horrified that stern old woman would be. But at this moment, survival took precedence more than conduct.
She began walking slowly along the shoreline, stopping every few steps to call out:
"Is anyone there? I am Euphemia li Britannia, Third Princess of Britannia!"
Yet only the monotonous sound of waves crashing against the shore answered her plea.
After what felt like hundreds of meters of walking and calling until her throat was parched, there was still no answer, no sign of anyone.
Euphemia paused, her gaze drifting toward the distant forest. Could Lelouch have landed somewhere there? With that thought, she changed direction.
However, the trek from the beach to the forest's edge proved far more difficult than she'd imagined.
Her high heels kept slipping on the uneven ground, forcing her to slow down and carefully choose each step.
"Hold on… you have to hold on…" she whispered to herself, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
Inside the forest, the air was damp and heavy, thick with the scent of earth and decaying leaves—but at least it wasn't as scorching hot anymore.
Euphemia, already drenched in sweat from the sun, welcomed the slight relief.
She wasn't sure how deep into the woods she'd wandered, but her trembling legs told her she needed to find a place to rest.
Perhaps it was fate's doing—Euphemia spotted a dark opening not far ahead, seemingly waiting for her to step inside.
It was a natural cave, its entrance overgrown with vines. Exhausted beyond measure, she didn't hesitate, dragging her weary steps toward it.
"At least I can sit down…" she murmured to herself, pushing aside the hanging vines.
To her surprise, the cave's interior was spacious and dry. Euphemia felt her way along the rocky walls.
Suddenly, her foot struck something, producing a sharp metallic clang.
She crouched down and, in the dim light, made out an old iron canteen, heavily rusted—clearly abandoned for years.
"Has someone been here before?" Her heart raced with trepidation.
She continued searching and found a few pieces of charcoal and a flint stone. But what truly caught her attention was a faint, inexplicable pull emanating from deeper within the cave.
Hesitating only briefly, she decided to venture further in.
As she went deeper, strange markings began appearing on the cave walls—ancient runes of some sort.
Euphemia had never seen writing like this before. Twisted and eerie, they seemed to silently whisper forbidden secrets.
She took another step forward—and froze.
At the very heart of the cavern stood a stone altar.
Circular in shape and covered in dust, it still bore traces of having once been meticulously polished.
Its rim was carved with the same runes as those on the walls, and at its center lay a shallow depression stained with a dark red residue—dried blood, perhaps.
Euphemia's breath quickened involuntarily.
The moment her toes touched the central stone slab, an odd sensation surged up from her feet—cold yet burning, accompanied by an indescribable pull, as if countless tiny currents were coursing beneath her skin.
Her mind blurred for an instant, yet her body moved forward of its own accord, drawn by some invisible force.
"This is…"
Before she could finish the thought, the stone beneath her feet erupted in blinding blue light!
BOOM—!
Deep within the cave, where not even a breath of wind should exist, a sudden, violent gust of air erupted.
Rocks, sand, even fragments of the ancient runes were swept up by an unseen power, whirling chaotically through the air.
Euphemia's heavy skirts billowed violently, layers of lace and silk flaring out like a giant net threatening to topple her over.
"Eeek!!"
She staggered backward, but her high heels found no purchase on the slick stone floor. Just as she was about to fall—
"Tch. This isn't quite how I imagined it."
A low, slightly exasperated voice cut through the wind.
In the next instant, a strong arm wrapped securely around Euphemia's waist, steadying her body.
Instinctively, she reached out to grasp something—her fingertips brushing only against cold metal.
It was a lake-blue mask covering the upper half of the stranger's face, intricately engraved with delicate circular patterns that shimmered faintly in the dim cave light.
"My apologies for the impropriety, fair princess," came a teasing voice from behind the mask.
Euphemia could only see the elegant line of their jaw and the faint, playful curve of their lips.
But before she could speak, a sharp pain suddenly pierced her arm!
"Ah—!"
She gasped, watching in shock as a crimson, otherworldly sigil appeared on the inside of her pale arm, glowing faintly.
"What is this…?"
She looked up, bewildered, at her mysterious savior.
The figure let out a soft laugh, laced with amusement and certainty: "So it's true—you really are my Master~"
Only then did Euphemia notice their attire: clad in lightweight lake-blue armor, with long silver-white hair cascading down like ripples of moonlit water.
Their posture was tall and graceful, every movement radiating innate nobility.
★ ★ ★
The burning sensation of the contract mark still lingered on Euphemia's arm. She instinctively stepped back several paces until her back nearly touched the cold stone wall.
Even though this person had just saved her—even though their voice sounded gentle and trustworthy—
Euphemia was no naive child easily lured away with sweets. Raised as a Britannian princess under strict courtly education, she knew better than to trust strangers so readily.
"Who… exactly are you?" Her voice was quiet, yet carried unmistakable wariness.
Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, and her fingers unconsciously tightened around her skirt—a small habit whenever she felt nervous.
The Fairy Knight seemed amused by her guarded expression, a playful smirk tugging at their lips.
"Ahh~ How careless of me—I forgot to introduce myself. My deepest apologies."
With elegant poise, they bowed deeply in a perfect knight's salute, their lake-blue armor glinting softly in the cave's dimness.
As they straightened, the silver-white mask covering their face began to dissolve slowly, breaking apart into countless tiny specks of light that drifted away like stardust.
"I am Lancer, the Fairy Knight Lancelot, summoned at your call."
With the mask now fully gone, the face hailed as "the fairest fairy in the land of fairies" was finally revealed in full to Euphemia—
Silver-white hair flowed like liquid moonlight, and amber eyes gleamed like melted honey—deep, warm, and tender.
Her features were exquisitely delicate they seemed almost unreal; their porcelain skin so pale it seemed as though it might shatter at the slightest touch.
What took Euphemia's breath away the most, however, was the gaze directed at her—focused, affectionate, as if the young woman before her was the precious treasure the knight scoured for over a thousand years.
"Shall we get to know each other properly?"
Their voice was as soft as a breeze yet held an unshakable resolve.
Euphemia stood frozen.
Her red lips parted slightly, her violet pupils dilating, her entire body stiffened as if under a spell.
Even having attended countless royal balls and met innumerable handsome nobles and beauties, she had never encountered beauty so transcendent it defied human imagination.
It was a near-magical allure that made it impossible to look away.
The Fairy Knight seemed thoroughly pleased with her reaction, their smile deepening with quiet satisfaction.
She wasn't in a hurry to rush Euphemia; instead, she quietly stood in place, letting the princess's gaze linger on her face.