A Mad Request

((Book 1 can be found here if you haven't read it yet: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZZBHBMF))

The two of them embrace and cry on one another's shoulders for a good while longer. Every time I try to ask about what the hell was going on, the fox would shut me down with a fierce glance. After a while, they finally parted from one another.

Grymbalt wiped his nose on his fuzzy arm. I have to go now. My Chosen just got his Shard, and he'll have questions!

Bye, Uncle Reyn! See you when this is all over! The badger hops off the edge of the floating mass of land and walks into the violet sky. All the color fades from its body as it lifts higher and higher until it was much like the apparitions flittering to and fro in the star-strewn sky.

Now that we're alone. Let's talk. The fox takes a seat on the edge of the island and dangles his feet off the edge, and pats the mossy grass beside him. I lower myself beside him and notice that his feet, dangling into the abyss, have lost their color as well. You must have questions, right? The fox pushes at the end of his cane, and it shrinks down to the size of a pipe once more. He lights it with a snap of his fingers.

"Am I dead?"

I already answered that, didn't I? Close your eyes, and feel around your chest. Just feel, don't pull. I do as the fox says, and after a bit, I can feel a metallic chain embedded into it. Simply touching it sends a wave of pain throughout my body, and fills me with inexplicable dread.

"What was that?"

That's the chain linking your soul to your body.

"So I'm not dead, but I'm a soul?" The fox sighs. Have you ever heard of astral projection? That's what's going on right now.

"But how? The last thing I remember before entering the storm was being in the aqueduct." The mana Zeus lent you was close to overwhelming you, so I brought you, and the remaining mana, here. It's easier to manipulate mana when you're a spirit, after all. I could have dispelled it, but I saw the opportunity it presented. It's not often that one gets to use a god's mana like that. "You said it would make me stronger?"

Yes. All of that time you were lost in there, you were absorbing, feeling, and manipulating the mana. Your Mana Sensing, Manipulation, and your, 'magic,' stat itself have increased by an incredible amount. If you check it when you get back, they can now probably compete with the Strength stat of that Chosen of Lugh who got you in this situation. "Shawn..." Is that his name? Enemies are dangerous, Lawrence, but stupid allies are even more so. Remember that. "You know that from experience?"

The fox grins as he takes a long drag from his pipe, and blows a stream of white, sweet-smelling smoke into the air.

Perhaps.

"So what's your name? Now that I'm here."

My name? Reynard. I am a fox spirit that lived in France. Many years ago.

"What happened? Were you actually driven from France?" Reynard's jaw tightens around the edge of the pipe.

Yes. And it is part of the reason that I chose you as my Chosen. You have nothing to lose, and you're cunning. More so than you realize.

"May I ask what happened?" I brush off his compliments. Believe him seems foolish. Of course, you can. I was planning on telling you anyway. But, in exchange, when you get back out of here and back to your world, okay, I'll have something for you to do? I'll even give you a little boon.

"Deal." The fox grins. Oh, you should never make a deal without knowing what you're getting into, human. Now...he drums his fingers across the grass.

Where should I begin? Back in France, I had a feud with a wolf spirit. Isengrim was his name. He would whisper lies about me to our king.

"Which king? The French king?"

No, no. King Noble. Our kingdom was separate from the humans, though we lived side by side. "What did this, 'Isengrim,' have against you?" Well... I stole something from him. Nothing big. "What was it?" A bit of gold. That's it. The fox holds up his hands defensively. But I needed it; he, himself, didn't get it through honest means; he was a , so he had no moral arguments against me. Even if he did that does not excuse what he did.

"What did he do?"

He got some of the other animal spirits together to make false accusations against me for a variety of crimes. Theft, violence, and a whole slew of them. They petitioned the king to imprison me, and the king agreed.

"And that's when you left?"

No. I fled. The fox states matter-of-factly. Isengrim sent Burin the bear after me. I got him stuck in a honey-filled log. Next, Tybalt, the Prince came after me, and I lost him in a barn, with promises of payment. After that, the king sent Grymbalt to plea for me to return, and that fool of a child actually brought me to them.

Reynard's paws curled around the pipe. The flames of the pipe grew hotter and hotter as his anger grew. They promised him that I would simply get a prison sentence, but once I was there, in the hall of the king once more, they all began to cry for my head. Grymbalt was horrified, but I was resolute. The fox took another long puff from his pipe. Once more, I pleaded with the king to allow me some leave. Told him I wanted to see my wife and kids one more time before the axe fell. I thought Isengrim would protest, but...to my surprise, he didn't. He urged the King to let me go. Only then did I realize that the bastard had done something.

He drops the pipe and pushes himself up off the ground. Fire glimmers in his amber eyes. He sent me with two of his lackeys. He starts again with a huff as he began to pace; both of his hands are tucked neatly over the small of his back. I ran home from the castle as quickly as I could, but I was too late. The cottage was quiet. I couldn't hear the laughing yips of little Elomine. Russet didn't come out to greet me, and the chimney of the cottage lay still and cold when it should be puffing out smoke on that chilly spring morning. One of them followed after me as I pushed into my home.

A ram. I forget his name, for it doesn't matter. He spits. May it be lost to memory forever. I called for them. Hermeline! Russet! Elomine! Oh, how I called. The ram snickered, as he struck a light and held it to the lantern he carried. I didn't know what I was looking at, at first. Three still bodies are in the middle of the room, surrounded by a pool of crimson. I thought, at first, they were men of straw, thrown into the cottage to fool me. I even convinced myself that was the reality, as I drew closer to the bodies.

His voice shakes and trembles. His steps grew heavier and more hurried, yet that fire How could Russet lay so still? How could Elomine be so quiet? It must be! It must be! I nearly laughed for the joy of it! Almost, until I saw Hermeline, and the look of horror painted across her beautiful face, clutching the necklace of gold that I had made for her the month prior. He stops in his track and slams his fist into the side of the cottage. It rumbles as if it had just been struck by an earthquake. Grief, sublime, rushed through me.

Then, came rage as I heard the ram snigger behind me, and the thrill of a blade singing as it slid from its sheathe. Reacting out of instinct, and filled with the strength that only blind rage could grant you, I grabbed hold of the cauldron; its bottom scorched, and the contents burned and stuck to its side, and swung it with all I could muster. The great bludgeon struck the ram over the ear and sent it to the floor, and the pot cracked. That didn't stop me, however. I slammed it down once more on his knee. Its bleating drew the other in; a Roe that I had scarcely known.

The Roe drew his blade and was after me in a moment. I battered away the blade with the shell of iron that was left from the cauldron.

The fox flashes his teeth; dozens of tiny ivory daggers glimmer.

And I ripped his head off his shoulders with a single bite. It fell dead, and the Ram soon followed. I cut up their bodies until I thought my rage had been settled, and then buried them as proof. But the rage never settled. Even now, it's as hot as it was that evening. I buried Hermeline, Elomine, and Russet near the banks of the Rhine, and escaped out of France before Noble sent his forces after me, through Agincourt way.

There I disguised myself as a man and imparted a strategy to a wayward English noble in exchange for safe passage across the channel. He agreed, as long as it worked. And it did. What human cunning can match a fox's? There I lived in London for many years; never daring to set foot into the Otherworld lest I be confronted for my trespass into foreign lands; but living as a physical being as a spiritual one has its toll, and I was fading, so I returned to the wilds around the 1460s, I think. On my way out of London, I met a peculiar man by the name of William Caxton. He was a learned man, he said, so I told him my story. I wanted those others to know that I was still alive. I wanted them to know.

Willie seemed delighted by it and bid me farewell as I headed to the Otherworld. I was stopped by the Dark One, and, again, I regaled him with my story. He allowed me a small space within Isles' Otherworld, in exchange for the promise that I would not start a war with the Otherworld of France. For centuries I waited. The fox approaches me and grasps me on the shoulders to pull me to a standing position. Centuries, Lawrence. You see, I am bound to this island. That was the Dark One's condition. He knew of my nature, and so to hold me to my word, he put a ward around this floating island. Oh...but now. His grip on my shoulders grows more intense, and the burning behind his amber eyes grows hotter and hotter.

Now, with Roki's meddling in our world. Now's the chance, Lawrence, do you understand? It's an opportunity, Lawrence! Do you understand? Once in a thousand — No! a once in a million lifetime opportunity Lawrence! He pats my shoulders. His shoulders heave, and a snarl splits his maw.

"No, I don't." See; the way your new powers work; the leveling system, the shard of the Bifrost? Your elevated learning? You're using my existence. My very being. Do you know what that means? I shake my head. It means that if you die; I die. But that's also true for all the rest of the Shard holders out there. You see? Do you see, Lawrence? The fox smiles madly; strands of saliva dripping from his dagger like teeth.

"You want me to kill random people? Why should I? I'm not a tool to settle your grudges." I take a step away from the fox. "Shouldn't our focus be on closing the Doors?"

Madness melts from the ferocious visage of the fox spirit, and he drops his hands off my shoulders.

Of course. Closing the doors should be your priority. Of course. He clears his throat. Nothing is stopping you from continuing to do so.

Rage still simmers behind his amber gaze.

But, mark my words; the more Doors you close, the more your fame will grow in the spiritual world, and in your world, and do you think that you will be safe? Certainly, Isengrim will have a similar idea to me, but he'd choose someone who was just as brutish, and just as immoral as he, and then what? Did you not hear my story? Will it take your loved ones being snatched away from you?

With that, he bends down and picks up the pipe. With a flick of his wrist, the pipe grows back into a cane.

If it ever comes to that, I'll offer my help. I pray it never does. I really do. It's a terrible, terrible thing.

He walks back into the cottage and shuts the door behind him. I'm left standing there. After I catch my breath, and after I stop my legs from shaking, I turn around, take a few steps and glance back, and raise my voice.

"How do I get home?"