Illus woke up in the middle of the night, as he frequently did in the ruins. The whirling wind, creaking trees, pounding rain, and brushing leaves were only soothing to a certain extent. Waking up to an odd scraping outside the shed never left him with a good feeling because he worried the fox may break the already loose agreement. Nothing held the fox to it beside Illus, and allowing the fox attention seemed to be very valuable in its eyes. The poem spoke more of Ciun than it did the fox, and it spoke of foxes, not a singular fox, so nothing could be certain.

The front door lightly creaked open, a clear night with a bright full moon. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of roses and musty earth into his nose. Illus’s legs were getting better after a few weeks of fishing and being careful with his health. His dull gray eyes scanned the perimeter. No fox. No Ciun.

He didn’t know if they slept. He had yet to see them sleep, but he had heard Ciun yawn several times, so maybe he would have some time in the fleeting night to be alone in the ruins.

His eyes traced their way around the crumbled roofs and tilted pillars, resting on the mountain again. He thought it would be a good morning to climb it, use the time alone to relax and watch the sunrise before Ciun and the fox stole his privacy.

Through the square, over the bridge, and up the steps he began. The gully chirped with frogs and crickets. Fireflies sparked in the soil, in the trees, in the grass. The light breeze circling the mountain kept Illus’s hair from his face, a lovely, brisk walk. Moreover, there was such a silence to the air between chirps, gusts of wind, and calls of the local loons. The dull hum of the Earth invited him to the summit as the moon slowly fell.

Though Illus’s legs were already much better, he used a walking stick to make up for the slight limp that persisted. Soil became granite steps which became a rocky summit. Looking away from the ruins was the eastern sky where white light began its ascent, snuffing the stars, awakening the new birds to tweet and chirp about. The water far below was full and clear, a massive crescent shaped lake that the rivers on either side of the ruins flowed from.

The summit was empty of Ciun and the fox, a space freely alone for Illus. Near the eastern ledge was a stone, smooth and indented in the middle. It made a perfect seat, which he happily sat in to commemorate his successful climb and ease his tired legs.

Just before the sun started showing itself, a flap of cloth caught Illus’s left ear. His head twisted quickly, a bit shocked at the subtle sound. A figure surrounded by long azure hair flipping in the wind, dressed in Anilee’s center-parted floral nightgown of a slightly darker color, and the golden and blue accented ivory fox mask. She stared directly at him, the pale pink light of dawn illuminating her in an ethereal glow.

His heart jumped with a slight burst of fright, almost enough to move him. “By God, you’re everywhere, aren’t you?”

No response as usual, although she seemed frozen in place for a brief moment. Then she yawned and took to freeing a tangle from her hair with Anilee’s brush.

Illus sighed, glancing down at the smooth stone he was seated upon. He pushed himself up and sat out by the ledge, in front of the seat. He paid her no more mind, a bit frustrated that she would even appear when he desired time alone.

The sun was just beginning the rise, painting the indigo night sky in a gradient of orange and red hues

“I was unsure if you were real,” Ciun’s gentle voice emanated from atop the seat.

Illus didn’t turned around. “That’s quite the statement from a millennium-old woman who’s stalking me.”

She paused, a remorseful tone about her voice. “Time has a way of clouding reality. Bygone dreams and days flow with one another in a mind that sees nowhere else. No one else.”

“So you thought I might be the figment of a dream? What made you realize otherwise?”

“In my dreams, visitors are often bright vestiges of all the people I wish to see, showing me what I desire.”

Illus held back a snicker.

“In reality, those who visit are always after something, even when stranded. Often, they are cruel, even conniving.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m only after my own survival.”

A light chuckle escaped Ciun. “Then you appeared. Neither what I wished nor wanted, and neither cruel nor conniving.” Her voice had a similar warmth to when he had first spoken to her, like her entire personality had flipped. A light tone, jovial even.

He glanced back at her, a slight smile following the curvature of her mask. “What made you think I was a dream at all?” He turned back to the sunrise.

She sighed longingly. “Every so often I’ll dream of a visitor who distracts me from my burden. Far less often is that visitor real.”

“How often do you receive visitors?”

Ciun chuckled again. “I don’t remember. One year is the same as the next in eternal, isolated summer. I know who comes before who, but the rest is fleeting as a dream in your mind as you wake.”

“I’m sorry,” Illus said. “That sounds lonely.”

“Alone isn’t the same as lonely. I reckon you were quite content by yourself before I showed this morning.”

“The morning’s peace is still unbroken. Though I hardly expected you in this way.”

“What way?”

“Sociable.”

She paused. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, really. This is-”

“No, Illus, I shouldn’t have made light of your situation. Your mood toward me should have been enough to show you were real.”

“They’re old wounds now,” he lied with a sigh. “You said it yourself, days and dreams feel the same here. I can hardly disagree. I’m watching the sun rise in long-lost ruins with a talking fox and an ancient woman. It certainly feels akin to a dream.”

She didn’t respond. Illus glanced back and her head was facing the stones.

He smiled kindly at her as the sun crested over the horizon, drawing her mask to face him. “How about a fresh start? My name is Illus. I’ll be staying in your ruins awhile, if you’ll have me, of course.”

She glowed radiant in the morning sun and the corners of her mouth finally crept upward. “I am Ciun, these humble ruins’ keeper. You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

Relief washed over Illus and he got a little lost in her image for a moment, then casually turned back to the sunrise.

“I take it you’re still going to keep the fox from me, hm?”

“The fox is no friend to you. All he offers is at a cost you know nothing of yet.”

Illus sat forward. “And what’s the cost? Is it the cost that’s caused every other explorer to go missing.”

Ciun’s tone became stern. “They were lost to their own hubris.”

“A tale as old as time,” he glanced back to her. “The mask, I presume?”

She paused, then nodded.

“Are you allowed to tell me what the mask has to do with anything, or do you simply not wish to tell me?”

Another pause, then an answer she sounded like she was afraid of. “I thought a prior visitor suitable and told him. After a while, it consumed him. It’s easier for you if you know nothing.”

“You can just say you don’t trust me, Ciun,” Illus snickered, “I won’t be offended. I wouldn’t trust me either. I suppose I’m only curious if the mask or magic or what-have-you will cause issues for my survival.”

“No, but the fox may try to entice you.”

“You’re full of it,” Illus took on a sarcastic tone. “There’s no world where that fox does anything cruel or unkind like strand me in ruins, turn my girlfriend into a machete murderer, and try to kill my sister and her husband.”

She held back a laugh. “May I ask now, why you toiled so long for these ruins, venturing deeper even after you met the fox?”

Illus pensively stared into the distance, wondering himself. “I suppose even for as needy as she was, and as frightening as the fox was, when it showed us that bridge I’d never seen her smile with such wonder. Watching her dream come true… it became mine vicariously.” He shook his head. “That’s a very roundabout way of saying I was stupid and loveblind.”

“You think the fox showed you that?” Ciun crossed her legs and leaned forward with her head on her hand.

Illus raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t know you could create mirages.”

She sat up straight. “I only created the one. I try to only show what will cause no harm.”

Illus didn’t respond, replaying in his mind every sight he had been shown and if it had been the fox or Ciun.

“You- even I could see you needed some help with her,” she explained quickly, “and it was a safe spot.”

Illus’s brow hardened, thinking about Anilee again. He bashed himself for going so long for nothing, all for it to fall apart because he tried to make her happy. He wondered if he was crazy for ever falling in love with her, for doing everything he did for her.

He smiled at Ciun, his harsh brow in staunch resistance against his mouth. “You’re fine. You helped. It worked. I’m the fool for keeping at it so long.”

Ciun set her hands on her lap. “How old are you?”

“Twenty one.”

“So you’ll be a twenty-two year old successful explorer of ancient ruins and a strapping young bachelor when you get back? Take it from somebody who’s wasted a lot of time, starting fresh is better than wasting it. You have plenty of life ahead of you.”

Illus’s eyes rested on the hazy river, the sun’s rays glittering in tiny rainbows. “How have you not gone insane here?”

She snickered to herself. “I’m not anymore.”

Illus stifled laughter of his own. “Not very reassuring now, is it?”

“It’s a little hard to tell sometimes. Maybe people would think I’m insane for simply being happy that I woke up and saw the sun, but that’s fine with me.”

“You seem a lot more sane than the fox.”

“That’s a low bar.”

“Verily.”

Silence took hold and Illus lost himself in staring over the distant landscape. He breathed in the crisp, fresh mountain air and let his mind wander, thinking about what life would look like when he got back to civilization. Finding intel, reporting about the ruins, and-

The military would be coming.

If the others made it out and reported back, there would certainly be a military presence, especially if relics or magic existed at the ruins. Even just Ciun and the fox would be grounds for a full excavation to take place.

Illus’s jaw shook as he interrupted the pristine silence. “Ciun?”

“Hm?”

“Are… did you or the fox tell the other three about relics or magic in the ruins? Are there any?”

Her tone turned sharp. “Why do you care to know?”

Illus turned back to her, noticing a slight frown. “Because if… when they tell the Colonel about this expedition, I have no idea how many men they will send to rip these ruins apart. I don’t know what they will do to you and the fox, or whatever else they find, but Ani read the poem, so she may very well tell them of you.”

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Ciun’s frown turned into a smile. “How do you think I have lived this long without getting caught?”

Illus worried about what would happen, that he may be the reason harm befalls her. “I figured it may be of interest to you, that you may prepare.”

“You need not worry about me, Illus. I have my ways.” Her tone fell ever so slightly. “I’ll live.”

Illus immediately followed up. “How long has it been?”

She paused while staring to the ground, then the sky. Finally, “Good question.”

Illus bit his cheek, his curiosity rising. “What was Imahken like before?”

Ciun rose from her seat, gracefully approaching the ledge, a healthy distance from Illus. “Would you like to see what the world looked like before I donned this mask?”

With a nod from Illus, the air around shimmered with twinkles of light that slowly created a view vastly different from the forest around, as if the air were being painted by intricate brush strokes. The carpet of trees spanning hundreds of miles became a sprawling city around the crescent lake. Cobblestone streets extended in all directions as far as Illus could see. Along them were tiled forums and an assortment of bright, colorful stone houses. The ground beneath Illus was not stone, but painted tiles covering the mountaintop and steps the whole way up. Neatly manicured trees and more granite tiles covered the ground all the way up. Illus walked to the other side and gazed down over a magnificent granite temple, columns and tile adorning every square inch. In fact, the entirety of the overgrown ruins from river to river was this one temple, layers upon layers of carefully carved granite. The amphitheater roared with people watching moose and deer race. Crowded citizens carried offerings over the covered bridge and up the mountain. The rose gardens spanned even farther in an intricate maze around the temple. All of it was frozen in place, frozen in a picture in time.

And in the center of the peak stood a massive statue of the fox, a wide divan where Enae sat, masked, receiving tribute from those who had climbed.

Yet Illus’s eyes traced the vast sea of vibrant houses and parks to Ciun, standing with her back to the city, staring at her sister on the divan.

Then the vision faded, a sullen air taking hold.

Illus’s lips had fallen open, amazement slowly drifting from him as the world returned to green. The temple overgrown. The city lost to time.

“How does…” Illus began, his eyes locked on the remnant of the world before, “how does such a city become… this.”

She forced a somber smile as the divan became the worn seat she had sat upon to watch the sunrise. “It is simply the truth of all things great and small. We thought Imahken would reign forever. It was perfect, a life of splendor for all who desired it. But with enough time, all people, all places, all things return to the Earth. The Earth, which I presume will return to something far grander, with or without us.”

The air fell still, a potent silence grasping them. Ciun ran her hand over the smooth stone seat, taking in a heavy breath.

Illus’s heart fell, remorse taking hold for the woman in front of him. “Did you witness the fall of Imahken?”

Ciun slowly shook her head, wistfully talking to the seat in front of her. “When I finally ascended from the catacombs, the streets were full of skeletons. The city a dusty echo of itself. No… it was already in ruins when the people died. Broken, looted, destroyed. Millenia it took to reach such a grand age, all to fall without a whisper of its demise.”

“Who were you before?” He sat back down on the edge, eyes falling to the hazy lake.

“I was the daughter of the principal family of Imahken, who received the fox’s curse in exchange for our empire’s wealth. A privileged, easy life. A painter. I used to travel the streets, painting walls and portraits for people because I had no other worries, just to see the smiles on their faces and all those who passed.”

Illus picked up his chin and turned to her. “Did you paint the mosaic of your sister?”

Ciun quickly righted her posture, as if surprised he asked. “Yes. I… did.”

“Life must look beautiful through your eyes. In the two visions you’ve shown, in the mosaic, the world is so bright and vibrant, every detail carefully attended to.”

She lowered her head, wordless.

“Is that how you’ve made it all these years? How you’ve kept going?”

She nodded and met his eyes. “How else could I?”

“What’s the secret?” Illus chuckled. “Surely you have life figured out by now.”

A breathy laugh slipped from her. “I don’t know.”

“Not even an idea?”

“I’m not sure life has an answer, Illus. The more I searched, the more I wanted answers, the more I found myself at odds with the world around me, struggling against an unyielding storm of questions. I got to a point where I forgot why I wanted to know in the first place. All I could think was ‘why waste my life unraveling an unknowable mystery when I can simply live it?’ There is no answer, only life.”

Illus leaned back. “You don’t care to know what comes after?”

She shook her head. “Everyone says they have the answers, that everyone else is wrong, that there is only one truth. I’ll find out when I face the inevitable darkness, but time doesn’t come back. My home will never rise again. I will never see Imahken outside of a glance at a moment in a memory.”

Illus turned away, a potent, grounding sensation settling throughout his body.

“I see the ocean of trees beneath the rising sun. I hear the gentle winds rustling leaves. I smell the musty earth and crisp air. I feel the chill of the early-morning breeze and dew on my hands. What’s there not to love in such a moment? Who am I to want anything more?”

He nodded lightly, taking in a deep breath.

She smiled to him. “You’re young, Illus. Younger than you know. Give everything you have to life and you will face death with nothing holding you down. Live with love, unworried for the consequences of goodness. And you’ll know you’ve done it right when all you love returns to send you off.”

Illus’s eyes became glassy. A profound longing, unknowable loneliness, resonated in the words she spoke, like it was something she knew she would never have. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful subject.”

Ciun wiped beneath her mask. “You have to hurt before you can heal. That’s one hard truth of life. One of many.”

A certain lightness took hold of his heart as he turned around to her, meeting the mask’s cunning blue eyes. “It takes an awful long time to heal, doesn’t it?”

“You never stop.” A warm smile graced her lips as the wind blew her hair into a plume of bright blue that seemed to meld into the sky. “Don’t count the days until you’re gone. Don’t lament what’s passed. Smile for what you have. You’ll start to see the beauty that life’s moments have to offer, even in your darkest times. Like here. Worry not for what is outside of your control and you will remain resilient enough to see the outside again.”

Illus saw beauty in that moment atop the mountain. He saw it in the sun glinting off of Ciun’s silky hair and shiny nightgown, in the kindness of her gentle voice, and in the reassurance of hope from a lonely remnant of a bygone era

“Thank you,” she said, “for your willingness to begin anew. I’ll be sure to return you to your people with all I can offer.”

Illus’s hair flipped in front of his pearly gray eyes as he nodded. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay. I’ll be sure to leave your home better than I found it.”

He grabbed his walking stick and pushed up with a groan, stretching his legs to begin descending. “Will you be accompanying me yet again?”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “I will leave you to your privacy today, but please, beware the fox.”

“My trust is not an easy thing to earn anymore, and the fox is no exception.”

Ciun turned back to him. “Have I earned your trust?”

Illus mulled over what he knew of her, wondering if perhaps this was all a deception, all a specter, all a vision to pull the wool over his eyes. If there was yet another mask in front of the one on her face. He still had doubts, questions. What did she mean when she said she ascended from the catacombs? She said her family took on the fox’s curse for her people’s prosperity, so was she responsible? He found himself questioning everything she said, if she was truthful, what she may have been hiding.

She chuckled to herself at his lack of an answer. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

He shot her a nod. “Be seeing you, Ciun, or so you’ve led me to believe is your name.”

With a mischievous smirk, she waved and leapt backward off of the mountain, arcing high in the air before disappearing into the trees.

Illus ventured down the mountain, the resplendent day gracing him with clear skies. As he neared the bottom, he spotted a hearty salmon in the middle of the steps, little tooth marks in its skin. Glancing to and fro, a particular black and blue fox poked its head out of the bushes.

The fox raised a claw to its mouth as if shushing Illus, then silently beckoned him to follow. Illus peeked over his shoulders, not spying Ciun anywhere. Of course the fox would not wait, why would it? It had waited weeks for Illus to be free of Ciun’s guard, as had Illus been waiting for a chance to find a better fishing spot. And perhaps the fox could shed light on some of the mystery surrounding her.

Illus nodded to the fox and followed from afar. The fox led him down past the mosaic, through the gully, and in the opposite direction from the catacombs. At the outlet of the gully, the river raged down its carved path.

The fox stopped at the edge, pointing around a corner. At the end of the gully laid a narrow outcropping leading to a cave. The fox waited inside the cave, a low cackle escaping its lips.

Illus worried he had fallen into a trap, but his curiosity got the better of him yet again. The fox whipped its tail in a circle until a blue flame popped into existence at the tip. It held the flame close, revealing wet, dark stone walls inscribed with yet another poem, this one called “The Lie of Ciun.”

In these halls our voices concealed

Her words splice meaning to shield.

Lies beget her honest pretense,

A frail creature without any sense.

Truth is a weapon which annihilates

The perfect life she longingly awaits.

Fox offers domain to he who’s known,

Wishes granted by the comet stone.

To steal away her grasp of reality

Conceal, where she cannot see.

Ciun stolen mask, the fox’s rite,

Is earned for the man’s plight.

Burdened her vessel by soul no more,

With whole heart, her life be swore.

A feast of life belonging to Ciun,

Curse the fox that he became a loon.

Her game is to run into the darkness

Mask, not the goal, in fact much less.

Her face shall be seen and fox freed,

Chains shackle, for the witch’s greed.

The fox’s face fell, a staunch difference in expression from usual. “A gift from one called Carmonia, a man burdened by logorrhea. Through his diving, he found her thriving, at my sole expense, then banished him hence, into the blasted maze, the catacombs her craze.”

It lingered past Illus, the flame idly lighting the poem.

Illus whispered, “and she cannot hear us here?”

The fox shook its head. “Her words are but an act, her distance true to the fact, that she seals me in this prison, all visitors she will christen, with wicked insanity, all for her vanity. The mask grants her power, that stifles me every hour.”

“Fox,” Illus investigated the poem further, “the poem seems to tell that if her face is seen, your soul will be freed.”

“And into a new life she’ll fly, burdened to one day die.” The fox growled lightly. “Flesh to rot, she’ll have got. She created this hell and locked me in a cell. Uses my life, extends this strife. What madness could I shun, when she blocked me from the sun.”

“The catacombs?”

“Forever and a day spent wandering, mind lost in itself pondering, once was she a divine, until the boldness of mine. Claiming men’s souls, her wicked goals. Using my face, leaving no trace. Only me to blame, this lie is her game.”

“And if I take the mask?”

The fox’s mouth crept into an awestruck smile, like he had seen a miracle. “My assured liberation, your certain jubilation. A woman uncursed, to quench your heart’s thirst, love at first sight, nothing left of her blight. Her mind washed clean, never again so mean.”

Illus grappled with that idea for a moment, trying to understand the fox’s riddles and the poem, “So Ciun is a witch, inhabiting that woman’s body through the mask?”

The fox jumped closer to him, desperation overflowing from its maddened visage. “Ay, yes, no less! The mask, your task! Enae’s vessel, in endless wrestle, to Ciun’s envy, make her free!”

“But then… why would Ciun crave eternity if she is locked in here?”

The fox lowered his head. “My final act of magic, for me was tragic, a prison upon that lich, that one day she would switch, perhaps return her sister, when eternity lost its glister.”

Illus shook his head, fighting through the babble and tricks, the half-truths and lies, if there were any. He stepped toward the river, grasping his temple at the outcropping of the cave.

The fox followed him in horror. “You have been swayed, Ciun’s curse is laid, into your head, caught in her thread.”

“Shush! Please!” He turned to the fox. “You trapped me here, harmed my sister and friend, how can I take a single word you say as truth?”

“It was not me, an honest plea! I am without ability, to change what others see. Stolen all by she, sorceress, banshee!”

“And if all this is a lie?”

“Tis none, never a lie! I swear upon the sky!”

Illus stared the fox closely in its eyes, reading every little eye movement, every face muscle. “You promise me her love if I take her mask. It’s bait for a fool.”

“Unconditional, all volitional! Without her wicked whims, you’ll be puppeting her limbs! A most perfect true love, forever yours thereof.”

Illus scowled at the fox. “You’ve a twisted idea of love, fox.”

A snarl began growing on the fox’s face. “You follow her blindly, just as Anilee. What became of her? Love? No, a blur.”

Illus’s heart sank, his head wrestling with the fear that maybe the fox was right, that maybe…

The fox eased his snarl, a softer, sympathetic voice coming through. “Her visions play on emotion, forcing you to devotion. For your ache I have no glee, I only wish you to be free.”

Illus’s mind raced every which way, unsure who or what to believe. Had Ciun really been using the fox’s image to trick people? Had she some game to pull Illus into? Or was the fox lying? One of them was, one of them was playing on his emotions. Ciun seemed more obviously believable, but was that part of the plan?

He propped himself on the stone and glanced at the fox. “Thank you, fox,” he said to be safe, to not provoke the fox any further if it was lying, “I must wrestle with this new information.”

The fox closed its eyes, bowing its head. “Do what you must, I believe in your trust. False security, is her surety.”

Illus returned to the shed and laid down, taking the stress off of his leg. He sat in quiet contemplation, wondering why both were so interested in him, why they both seemed to guard over him. And then an even scarier thought befell him. Were they manipulating his emotions without him knowing? Were Ciun’s words laced with magic to lure him in for her game? Was the fox pretending it all to drive him to take her mask for its own reasons? Were they both playing him? Or only one? How would he even notice?

He did nothing the rest of the evening.

Afraid of serenity Ciun’s company brought, afraid to reap the bounty of the fox’s fishing spot.

The fox promised more, that was for sure.

Ciun had seemed to bloom, or was it an omen of his doom?

As Illus wrestled with these lies's grime, away slipped the passing time.

He wondered in his dismal spin, if this is how those explorers had been.