A Chance Meeting On the other side of the storm

((Is the storm a metaphor for something? Hmmmmm.

Book 1 can be found here! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZZBHBMF))

Storm clouds wrap themselves around me. Big, gray ones. Like a veil. I feel the earth beneath my feet. It's as still as always. Thunder claps and I step forward.

It's heavy. Like lead inlaid in my clothing. How long had I been in this space? It feels like years. Blue light flashes. My body stiffens. Hot energy floods my body and burns through every pore. How many times has this been? It feels as if I had endured this a thousand times.

The energy inches its way to my heart. No. I won't allow it. I was improving myself. I was finally pulling myself out of that hole that I had been buried in. That living death where each day was gray, and bled into one another. That I wasted away in front of the glowing screen for those dead hours. I was finally getting out. I finally found light at the end of that long, dull tunnel. I won't die now. Not now. Not. Now. I can't die now. I drag that burning blue energy out like poison through a viper's bite and expel it through my feet to the ground. Now I need to find my way through this storm, and back into that light. I take another step forward.

Every step summons another blue flash that burns through me, and I pull it through me all the same, as I have done a thousand times over. The clouds, however, seem to lessen, and something stirs at my feet.

This way. Through the storm.

A child-like voice calls for me. I follow it. What choice did I have? This time, it took two steps for the lightning to flash. I stop and pull it out of me.

Hurry! Not much time! I have to return.

Another step. Then another, and another, and another. I can see through the clouds now. A blue flash stops me in my steps, and like the other countless times, I pull it through and dispel its mana through the ground. It shatters and cracks, and then reforms. What was this place? I was in the aqueducts with Shawn...

Not too much further! Can't you hear him?

I strain to listen as I take a step through the lead-like air. A voice. A baritone and melodic hangs upon the air.

One night upon my rambles,

two miles below Pirmoy...

The voice fades, and I take another step. The clouds clear. Light assails me. It's almost blinding. Strewn within the violet firmament above a million, million pinpricks of starlight, circle countless heavy-bellied moons. Ghostly creatures float through it and catch this light and reflect it out like iridescent diamonds. Thick, moss-like grass of the most brilliant green I've ever seen, grows in clumps on the ground. It's soft. As if I'm stepping over clouds.

I met a farmer's daughter,

All on the Mountains high.

I glance behind me. The storm is nowhere to be seen. Instead, this brilliant sky stretches out forever in every direction. A few dozen yards all around me, the ground breaks off into this void. I step forward to investigate.

No! The childlike voice returns, right at my feet. You'll get lost!

I glance down. A small fuzzy animal, standing on both of its hind legs looks up at me. Its face has a long snout colored in thick black and white stripes, and two round ears stand atop its head.

"A...badger?"

Yeah! Follow me! Someone is waiting to meet you.

I follow after the childlike creature, towards the singing baritone.

I said 'My pretty fair maid,'

I'm glad to meet you here,

For upon this lonesome mountain

Your beauty shines so clear.

We crest a knoll that I swear hadn't been there a moment before, and a small, curling stream of black smoke arises out of a small chimney poking from the top of a red, curvy roof sat upon a bright white, round cottage. Was it made of wood? Stone? I couldn't tell. Inspecting it confuses the point further. Sitting out front of it, on the grass with its long legs dangling off of the edge of this floating landmass and into the void, and taking a long draw from a pipe that it held in its black paws, was a red fox. Its tail wraps around its back, and its shoulders are hunched forward as it takes a long drag from the ivory pipe, inlaid with curls of gold, and blows a ring of white smoke that floats up into the violet. I can only stand there, with my jaw unhinged.

Uncle Reyn! Uncle Reyn! I found him!

The fox's ears perk up, and it turns its head. The brilliant amber orbs of its eyes shimmer as it glances at the small badger.

Blast it, Grymbalt, I was in the middle of the ballad! You know it's my favorite.

But uncle! I found him!

The fox's eyes glance toward me, and a familiar feeling wraps around me. The same feeling that I had on that December evening. They quickly scan me, and then dart back to the child-like badger who stood no higher than my hip. His chest puffed out in pride.

Blast it, nephew of mine. I told you, the longer he endures the storm, the more power I — I mean he can gain. How often do you think opportunities appear like that? Once in a thousand lifetimes, Grymbalt. A thousand!

The irate fox bangs the pipe against the ground and knocks free a few embers. The badger's round eyes sink back, and its shoulders sink as its black, glassy eyes glance to the ground in front of

And you. His eyes dart toward me. Were you looking to get yourself killed? Calling upon the aid of a Helenite? Never do that again. You're lucky he didn't just decide to smite you! Sadistic bastards that they are. He states with a harumph added at the end for extra measure.

"Uh, am I not dead?" I ask.

Hm? Oh, I do suppose this is all confusing to you. The fox spins to a stand and flicks his wrist. The ivory pipe he held transforms into an ivory, gold inlaid cane that he taps against the soft ground as he steps toward me. No, you are not dead. This is the Otherworld. Seeing no flashes of recognition on my face he clears his throat and begins again. Annwn? No? Tir na Nog? Not that also? Tech Duinn? Okay, how about Avalon? Ah, you've heard of that, have you? Blast it, human. Learn more about our world, would you?

I didn't even need to speak at all during this exchange.

This is the land of spirits and gods. Specifically, those of us who originated from the Celtic, Gaelic, Pictish Briton and, the fox's red fur stiffens as he shutters. Welsh cultures. I suppose I'm a bit of an anomaly here, however. Coming from Frankish lands.

Driven from Frankish lands. The badger corrects.

Silence, you! The fox strikes the badger child over the head with his cane and stomps on the ground. That damned wolf! He clears his throat. But yes. I sought refuge across the Channel, and the Dark One offered a hand.

"Who are you? My patron?"

The fox hangs the head of its cane over its arm and claps sarcastically.

Oh! What a brilliant observation! Yes, indeed I am. Now answer my question. He pokes me in the chest with the end of his cane. Why did you call upon a Helenite? There are plenty of gods more aligned to you that you could have called upon, you know?

"How was I supposed to know? I don't even know your name!"

'Don't know my name?' How? I gave you a hint!

"Yeah, a riddle."

That's plenty! You're my chosen, after all! I didn't just choose you on a whim, you know! Okay, maybe on a little bit of a lark, but the question still stands; why did you do it?

"I thought I needed to, and I couldn't think of any other gods..."

So you called upon the worst one? Do you know how awful Zeus is? He trapped you in that storm! Speaking of which.

The fox returns its wrathful attention back to the badger.

Why did you lead him through? A thousand lifetimes, Grymbalt! A thousand!

He raises his cane, and the young badger holds up his arms to block the blow.

I couldn't help it! My Chosen wished for this one back!

Your...chosen. Oh. My nephew dearest! The fox drops the cane and embraces the badger around the shoulders. My poor! Poor nephew! Any fool that uses their wish that way will surely get themselves killed! It's an even worse wish than, 'a new set of indestructible teeth!'

The fox lets out a yapping, howling cry and casts a sidelong glance at me through its show of emotion. A cluster bomb of embarrassment, indignation, and rage floods through me. As I begin to utter the first syllable of defiance the fox cuts me off with another exaggerated cry and once again speaks.

I am ever so sorry for striking you! Can you ever forgive this old fool of a fox?

Of course, Uncle Reyn! The badger lets out heaving sobs upon the fox's red shoulder. You have it hard as well, don't you?

Oh, you don't even know.

The crafty fox cries out again.