The Blind Fox

Lyle watched his death unfold before him. Smoke and dust erupted all around. Screaming charges and wailing cries assaulted his naïve senses. Bloodthirsty men appeared amidst splattering blood, their cries of war echoing through one ear and out the other. The sky rained ash from the mountain pass above, bringing with it the scent of fresh slaughter. Comet's Corridor lay sprawled out below, the sheer drop into the valley offering an easy way out of this hell.

Lyle gripped his half blunted short sword, hands sweating and shaking, and raised it to defend himself from the fog of death. Man engaged man, sword met sword, and blood mixed with blood. Lyle squinted and darted his eyes left to right, right to left, fervently paranoid that the end of his life could befall him at any moment. Dread filled the canvas of despair, paralysing anxiety making a warm home in Lyle's gut. His footing cracked and crumbled into the rocky base. His breathing and heartbeat rumbled in his head. His hands adjusted the grip on his sword over and over. He was going to die, he was going to die, die, die, die-

A thundering bellow exploded across the ridge. Lyle started, looking every which way to discern what was approaching. The war cry grew louder and louder until a giant crash threw Lyle to the rocky floor. His sword ejected from his grip, clanging on the ground, and the deranged attacker grabbed him by the throat, squeezing and shrieking. Lyle fumbled his hands on the attacker's face, the light slowly fading from his vision. The attacker squeezed harder and harder. Lyle thrashed, his arms flailing as he choked on his bubbling spit. The colours of the world turned grey, with ash and dust piercing his fading vision.

Lyle fumbled at his side, searching desperately for his pocketknife. He ripped the knife from his belt and rammed it into the attacker's abdomen. The attacker released his grip and fell to the side, writhing in pain, trying to grip the protruding knife from his side.

Lyle heaved an ear-splitting cough and rolled to his side, trying to right himself. His vision split and washed together as he slowly crawled back up onto his feet. His head wandered, his thoughts came loose, and his limbs moved independently of his mind. He now stood looming over his enemy; rock balled into his hand, his rage seething and numb. He pounced on the enemy, unable to hear his own howl, and crashed the rock into the attacker's terrified face. Again. Again. Again. Again.

He roared and kept attacking until nothing of him was left. His mind lay bare, and when he finally came to, the attacker's head was beyond description, an awful mosaic of unconscious rage painted before him. Calls for retreat sounded, but Lyle just sat staring, staring, where?

"Hey,"

Where?

"Kid, you need to take your silent stupor somewhere else,"

Where?

"I have customers that I would prefer not to be spooked,"

 "Where am I?"

"Stars above, I don't have time to deal with drunks, just get out of here and sleep in a hole that doesn't bother anyone. If any of my customers see you out here, they'll get scared off! You hear me?"

Lyle sat there in a dank puddle, confused. His vision was a wash of lines of nightly light and blurry brick. Someone was talking to him with frustrated anger in their tone, but Lyle was too out of it to understand the context of what he was saying. He just sat there, messy hair starting to hang over his eyes, a dirty jacket arresting his arms either side. 

A sudden jolt in Lyle's side made him start. The man was pulling him up by the shoulder, annoyingly grunting as he did so. Lyle slowly stood up with the man's help and hung his head once he was on his feet. "Where, where?" Lyle said, gently rocking his head back and forth. The man paused, then rested him against the wall and stopped to pull something out of his pocket. The man bore a dark tan, was middle aged with short ashen hair, and now showed signs of pity and guilt. He opened Lyle's hand, putting a small paper bag in it and pulled up his head to meet his eyes. "Look lad, Moonfall," Lyle scrunched his nose and then raised both his eyebrows in recognition, a common truth returning to him.

"Right. Moonfall."

He looked down at the bag and saw some bread and grapes through the crack as he regained some clarity, Moonfall. Lyle wasn't fighting for his life in the Corridors Veins anymore, he hadn't for nearly a year. But the flashbacks always felt so real, like he was experiencing it for the first time again. Every day of every week, his mind punished him. All those he killed and all those who tried to kill him, still there, waiting to drag him down into the abyss. 

And what did he get in return? He was discarded and labelled a coward. They lost, and the ever-patriotic Sellians saw fit to shun the "peasants turned savages" to all the rotten corners of society. 

"You got a place you can go to?" the man asked. Lyle nodded quickly, trying to keep his emotions from bubbling over, "I know someone in the Labyrinth, they usually let me stay the night as long as I'm quiet, but…", Lyle shook his head and stopped talking before saying more than he should. He didn't want this man's niceness to descend into a barrage of vitriolic hate. Everyone always looked at him differently when they found out. Some were scared, some were scornful, and some were disgusted. But all of them hated.

The man's eyes lingered on him, "Just try and keep the fact that you fought in the war to yourself, alright?", Lyle stopped as he was turning and stared at the man, wide eyed. The man snorted, "I can see it in those dead eyes, the broken mind that comes with war. Endlessly reliving the torrent of damnation, whether you want to or not."

"I'm not a coward, sir."

"I know that, but the hateful pyre of a common Moonfall citizen doesn't pay much heed to such things unfortunately. We lost, and they needed someone to throw into the Foundry's Fire."

Lyle stood, staring into the middle distance, then brought his eyes to meet the mans.

"It doesn't matter, a lot of the folks in the Labyrinth fought in the war, everyone's so lost they don't care anymore. People in the city can be… less forgiving."

"And me, for helping such people. Go, now, and eat that quick lest it be stolen from you the second you enter the Labyrinth."

"Thank you, sir,"

"Venya! Where's the Light Harvest?" someone shouted from inside the walls of what looked to be a workshop. "In my study!" Venya replied. 

This was the nicest anyone in the Rast District had ever been to Lyle. If only he could feel this every day, be welcomed, feel safe. No going hungry in the Labyrinth. What he wouldn't give to feel the warmth of nice honest people. Just to feel hopeful instead of drowning in despair so much you don't feel anything anymore. It was something he had never had in all honesty, even on Cornerfoot he was scorned and casted aside. "Bad omen of the sea", what else could they call a child washed up on the beach? If only he could just-

"No, no, I see that look in your eye. And the answer is no, don't even think about it." Venya blurted, interrupting his dreamful optimism.

"Please sir, I'll do anything, I won't tell no one nothing. I'll work harder than the Foundry itself, just give me a chance, please."

"And the answer is still no. You do realise I found you out here lost to the world, and out of your mind. I've known people with your… condition, it doesn't get better, and it certainly won't help me."

"But-"

There you are Lyle! Finally found you!

Lyle froze. He slowly recoiled and then spun carefully to look behind him and then twisted back to face Venya. Of all the times, this certainly wasn't one of them. He needed to be strong, not show any sort of weakness. Why now? Why must everything always go wrong? Why must everything be whisked away, just when hope's hook lay in front. It probably didn't matter anyway, but all semblance of finding a way out of this life was about to vanish yet again. Lyle saw it in Venya's eyes, those expectant eyes, like the answer he knew to be sure, revealing itself before him.

Lyle I've been looking everywhere for you! Gord was very furious, and it was very funny! 

A few heartbeats past, and then, Myr appeared. Her body formed from the bushy tail first, a whirl of light melting amongst mist. The rest of her body came to be, and she glowed her uniquely eye-catching azure. From the tip of her snout to the ends of her bushed tail, all the shades of blue swirled so serenely. How could his mind create something so bizarre? And why a light blue fox? Myr had come to him shortly after he was declared incurable and thrown into the jaws of Moonfall's jungle. The lowest Lyle had ever been in his short life. She came spouting ramblings of space and mystery, specifically leading Lyle to dangerous places and people. It was all nonsensical, of course, but knowing something isn't real doesn't make it go away.

Lyle stared at Myr as she slowly trotted around in the air in-front of him, happily humming to herself. Venya had apparently seen enough and walked back towards the backdoor, "Come by if you need food, I'll see what I can spare," he said, not looking back and going back inside. 

Lyle's face dropped, his hope starting to fade into numbness again. Venya saw him as someone beyond help, someone who couldn't even put a hammer to a nail without falling out of his mind and losing all semblance of reality. Was he wrong? Was he beyond help? 

Myr. Myr was the manifestation of everything wrong with him, everything that didn't work. Lyle's face had now turned and was now frothing with anger that rose and cracked his pours, he needed to release the swathes of built-up rage all in one swing, Myr.

"MYR, MUST YOU RUIN EVERYTHING?" Lyle shouted.

Myr stopped trotting and sat. A well of sadness creeping over her face and into her pale, cloudy eyes. This was all him, but he still felt piercing guilt at the sight of her sulking face. He looked around and let out a giant sigh of breath, "Look, I'm sorry. Let's go back, alright?" He said with cracks of guilt, his hand massaging his temple.

Ok, I forgive you… Now let's go to Corin Star Cathedral!

"Absolutely not,"

This is your atonement for being a stupid, dumb person. Now, let's start our quest to save Rapture from certain doom!

"How about I just tell you a story instead?"

Hmmm! Okay!

"Ok, come on-"

Venya was stood back in the doorway watching on with narrow eyes and an indiscernible look on his face. Lyle flushed, spun on the spot, and sauntered off into the darkness of the ally. Myr flew into step beside him, still humming to her tune. Lyle could feel Venya's piercing gaze behind him, probably a sympathetic leer for the crazy war boy talking to himself. It was time to go back to his home, back to nowhere, nowhere at all.

 ***

Rain fell from the stars as the night hit its darkest. Although, with Maia in sky, the night was never truly dark. Lyle looked up at the falling rain, the drops gently caressing his cheeks. Light from Moonfall's eternal bloom shone behind, and he was numb again. He scrunched the empty brown bag in his hand and turned to look from whence he came. He saw the heart of Moonfall, the Foundry. From here, the stumbling decay that was the Labyrinth, you could see the city in its totality. It was a beautiful sight, it almost made up for the Labyrinth's dark dank cram of hovels, crime, and misery. The Foundry's everlasting blaze was a beacon that marked the biggest city in the world, the biggest melting pot of all races and nationalities. A chance at forging a new life, a better life. People come from as far away as Vyria to the City of Hell and Hope, and though many prosper, more people experience the depths of hell rather than sweet song of hope. 

The Foundry looked as crude as the city itself. It rose high over the metropolis like an elder tree, and its construction was a mess of asymmetrical sharp corners and protruding gears that coiled and turned all hours of the day. It glowed a humming orange through the cracks in the walls that welled and meandered until it burst out of the top, a fountain of light. The source of all Moonfall's energy, eternal energy. No one knows for sure why the Foundry's light never goes out, but who cares? It's not like Lyle would ever feel it's comfort, and if he did, why should he care where it comes from? He'd be glad to keep the night chill away for once, just once.

The Light District totally encompassed the Foundry, its giant keeps visible through the spitting rain. Every important man and woman in the country was housed safely at the centre of it all. They are the real gods of this world, no far-off myth, or some bygone creator, they were the ones with real power. Power that can shake thousands without even lifting a finger, all from within the walls of the Light District. And at the pinnacle was The Eternal King, Leradin Lighthold. The man who built the Foundry itself. He gives his light to all the cities in Selles, and the country obeys him in turn. A simple arrangement, one that has stayed true for hundreds of years. The secret of the Foundry is the answer to his supposed immortality, what that is? No one knows except him.

Just further ahead lay Moonfall's concave coast, with the Crescent District surrounding it like an army laying siege. He heard tales of great feasts with dozens of guests drowning in frivolity at the coast, watching the calm ocean with a plate of shellfish. Its gentle waves would be illuminated a rippling white by way of Maia's godly glow. He could scarcely see the ocean from here, its black and white waves crashing mercifully into the harbour. Jax would always clamour on about returning home in glory, meeting a beautiful girl, and dining at the Moonfall Coast. A big house in the Crescent District for good measure. Now, he's a rotting corpse in the depths of the Corridors Veins. Like so many other hopefuls, discarded and tossed in without a care for who they were or what their dreams were, all buried and gone forever.

Corin Star Cathedral towered above in the Crescent District. Moonfall's most important religious sight, its namesake, like all the country's cathedrals, coming from one of Maia's listening stars. It was shaped like a dome from the outside, it's architecture at odds with intricacy of the buildings that surrounded it. Lyle had never been in a cathedral, nor did he care much for religion, but it is hard to ignore when the seat of your god is floating in the sky high above. Never changing, always there. Myr was obsessed with Corin Star. Half of her ramblings didn't make any sense whatsoever, and he was never going to act upon the will of his hallucination, not if he could help it. Getting there was an impossibility anyway, residents of the Labyrinth didn't belong in the Crescent District. The Moonfall watch patrolled all hours of the day, and any potential criminal was thrown out or arrested. In some cases, killed. 

These small acts of horror are a microcosm in the grand swelter of a Moonfall day. The rampant expanse of Wonderlust in the city and in the Labyrinth. The Moonfall Watch in the pocket of all the wealthy families across town. The growing discrimination in all corners of the city following the war. Lyle was numb to all of it, numb to everything. Why care about anything? Anything, when… No one cares about me.

Lyle stood, staring, staring.

"No one cares about me," Lyle whispered to himself.

Lyle! Come on! I want that story you know!

Myr's blue glow glittered in Lyle's periphery, the glow making thin spokes of light that splintered and swashed in his vision. Her voice sounded as if there were two voices talking at the same time, one slightly delayed behind the other. The sound, like the sight of her, appeared outside his body. He couldn't understand how any of this worked, but like most things he didn't care. 

"I'm coming Myr. Hopefully Gord will have had a change of heart, otherwise I don't know what we're going to do."

Lyle threw the bag that had the food Venya gave him on the floor. Discarded, like the hope his glimmer of kindness gave him.

Myr fell into step beside Lyle, humming a sweet tune as they began to descend into the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth was as dark as a monster's gut, the only light that shone was coming from cracks in the slums either side, the last embers of firelight crawling out into the muddy street. Sounds of muted coughs and suffering moans reverberated throughout. People sat in the entrances to alleys, all under the influence of Wonderlust. The pink mist still warping the air as their minds wandered away from reality. Only their silhouette visible, nothing beside remaining. Lyle wasn't any different, it was only a matter of time before something would trigger him. He'll lose himself and fall into despair once again, forever cursed to repeat this dance. And what for? To live a life of mundane suffering?

At the end of the street, the Labyrinth split into a myriad of dense stacks of ill shaped slums and a raised uniform murmuring, permeating all the thin whirling streets. The odd scream would often rip through the silent night; however, it was never out of the ordinary. Far be it a point of unbridled disgust to find that no one batted an eye to the nightly screams and distress. Everyone here was as selfish as they were desperate, always trying to find a way out. Killing is a small price to pay when comfort awaits you in Moonfall.

Lyle's tattered shoes squelched the mud as he walked the dim side street. Myr trotted alongside, a beacon of light in the darkness, but as always, the disgruntled populace didn't even look twice at her. To Lyle she stood out like a dancing star, but for everyone else, nothing. Her cloudy eyes stopped then drifted towards him.

Are we there yet?

"How can you not know? You're me, aren't you?"

Lyle, how often must I say this? I'm me! You're you!

Myr walked over in the air, each foot resting on a seemingly invisible surface, she then climbed onto Lyle's head and sat. She poked her head down into Lyle's vision, tilting her head.

"Right. We're almost there, hopefully Gord's asleep, we can sneak in that way and deal with him tomorrow,"

Story!

"Yes, yes, I know."

Lyle slowed down and eyed Gord's shop. It was a jumbled mess of a building. Two floors, an asymmetrical slanted roof, and thick wooden struts that protruded out into the street, past the confines of the buildings border either side. The roof over hanged to the side like an ill-fitting hat, hovering above the small alley that leant against its side. There was no light emanating from any of the shutters or cracks, Gord should be asleep.

He shuffled into the side alley and peaked through the barred wooden window to the inside of the shop. The interior was hard to discern. He could see outlines of recognisable shapes, like the ladder into the ceiling and the thin desk you would usually find Gord brooding at. He pulled back and shifted to the side, grabbing the backdoors handle tightly and lightly pulled, but it wouldn't budge, locked. He looked up at the second-floor windows shutters and saw a slight crack that might mean they weren't locked. He jumped up gripping a hold of the protruding strut and pulled himself up. He squatted and balanced on the wooden beam and slowly stood until his eyeline met the window. He seized the shutter by the side and carefully pushed. The shutter slid open, wood vibrating against wood, ejecting some dust into the room. The room was a small storage area. Wooden crates and barrels with who knows what inside. Lyle never asked much about Gord's business, but it wasn't legal as far as he was aware. 

Lyle quietly pulled himself up and through the window and set both his feet on the floorboards. He turned around to close the shutter and noticed that the lock was broken. The metal latch holding the shutters together had sheered in two.

"I thought that was weird, Gord is far to paranoid to leave anything open," Lyle whispered. He stared out the window into the dysfunctional street, the maialight gently sparkling through the increasingly heavy rain. It was pretty concerning; Gord had probably been robbed in the night without him knowing. But Lyle was far too tired to care. He slid the shutter shut and sat on the floor ready to fall unconscious.

Lyle! Story!

"I lied, silly me, try your look tomorrow Myr."

Myr lit up in front of Lyle and sat in thin air. She lowered her ears and began to sulk, a distressed whimper breaking free from her mouth.

"That won't work again,"

Myr sat there and continued sulking. And Lyle leaned his head back against the wooden wall, closing his eyes. Myr increased her audible huff and puff more and more until Lyle couldn't take it anymore. He opened his eyes and flatly stared ahead.

"Fine,"

Yay! What's this one about!

"Ah, let's see,"

Lyle thought for a moment, rinsing through his mind. He loved history before he fought in the war, and the only thing keeping it alive in his life was the stories he told to Myr. Otherwise, they would have all turned to mush by now. He remembered one of his favourites, one he read a hundred times as a kid. An embellished tale about an ancient explorer.

"How about Jorr's treacherous voyage to The Sunken Isle?"

Oh! I love Jorr! He was always so nice to me!

"You say that like you knew him,"

Myr shrugged.

As rain poured outside, and dust creeped into his hair. As wood creaked, and the roof leaked. As the air musted, and the floor crusted. As everything became quiet, and everything became calm. Lyle sat in a dark cold corner of Gord's shop and told a story to himself.