The rain poured, obscuring the sun to no end. The fox relented for that time and Ciun distanced herself too. It would have been mid-autumn, a month after Illus’s breakdown, when the rain finally let up. However, he made careful use of that time.
He snuck out in the rain to record the second poem and investigated deeper into the cave. Not long into his venture, he discovered the walls becoming lined with bones and promptly turned around. He searched every nook and cranny of the amphitheater for hidden poems, messages, anything. He turned over stones in the ruined field of columns. He scoured the walls of the gully, beneath the bridge. He scanned the rose maze and fountain. He analyzed every tile of the mosaic, yet nothing still. All he found were bones, slowly being uncovered as the rain washed away the topsoil. The pale chalky stones lining the bottom of the rivers were not stones at all, but weathered remains.
For every dark day, he was without Ciun’s protection from the fox, too. He would bid her goodbye, giving him time on his lonesome to fish, chop wood, and harvest the bounty of the land. Ciun tended to the fields and the orchards on her lonesome, and she would tell him what was allowed to be harvested and when. From this, he gathered a healthy stockpile of fish, potatoes, pears, and herbs that he dried over brazier in his shed.
In his spare time, he studied the poems. Rather quickly, he found an occurrence in both, a pattern that he needed another poem to know if it was intentional or simply a coincidence. That is why he took to searching in the rain amidst his survival.
It seemed as though he would need to feign friendship with the fox to find the next poem, though. To find the final clues that Carmonia left, the truth that Ciun could not speak. The clouds would not stay out forever and Illus would again be burdened by the fox. If Carmonia left clues on the fox, Illus believed his survival would be assured.
The rain cleared in the evening on a warm autumn day. Illus was out fishing and the rain stopped just as the sun disappeared behind the mountain. He would be safe from the fox, and he would be safe from flash flooding and hypothermia to check one of the two spots he had not been able to reach in the rain. The peak of the mountain.
He needed no sun, for the sky was bright and starry, a full moon glowing above the Earth. With the moon as his guide, Illus ascended the mountain, carefully checking every stone and tile that may be big enough to house a poem, or even just a line.
Drenched dirt made the climb more difficult, but to finally be free of the rain was prize enough. Slowly he ascended the steps, stopping at the outcropping of rock where Ciun had gifted him her power. The stone was almost perfectly smooth as he expected. Weathered by the elements, he kneeled, brushing at the fallen leaves and soil by the edge.
A crack? No. A carving.
Illus feverishly swept at the rock with his hands, relief rushing through him. He revealed a line, not even bothering to read it as he swept away deeper to reveal more of the stone. Another line! Another chance to cement his survival.
He swept and dug, but there was no more to this poem. The shallow carving had barely escaped weathering. One final couplet of a poem was all that remained.
Standing back, he read the lines aloud while recording them in his notebook.
“Follow this poem’s every verse,
Ciun may be saved from her curse.”
Illus stared blankly at the stone which once held a seemingly important poem, then fell to his rear, a hysterical laugh erupting from his core.
“Of course,” he lamented, “what would my terrible luck be without a proper throttling every now and again?”
He held the pencil to Anilee’s journal, wondering what his next step would be. The fox would be out with the sun and torment with it. His fingers idly flipped backward, his lips curling into a smile as he reminisced over the crossed out self portraits. The one closest to the end showed her dirty, disheveled, and in the same clothes she wore into the ruins, crossed out lightly. Yet it was the most lifelike picture of her in the journal.
“If only I’d known how deceptive that face of yours was.”
He lingered on her dimpled, freckled and filthy cheeks, her vexed frown, her tired, baggy eyes, and short hooked nose. That picture was the first page in the journal now. Drawings, useless notes, everything before had been torn out, used to start fires.
There was a knock on wood behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. Nobody. He scanned the ground and nothing. Perhaps a bird. Or the fox had finally broken his word.
He pushed back from the ledge to be safe, then glanced up around the treeline to see if he could spot the moon. Instead, he saw a mask staring into the journal. His heart jumped, a brief fright hitting him, but he laughed it off.
Standing up, he tucked away the journal and walked toward the mountain. With glances over his shoulder, he spied her watching, following him up from the trees. The night air was calm, the breeze cool, and his legs spry once again. They had been gaining strength with his walks in the rain, so he decided something against his better interest.
He sneered over his shoulder at Ciun and took off in a sprint, knowing he could not win, but seeing if she would give chase. Sure enough, she leapt from treetop to treetop far faster than he could run. The fresh air invigorated his lungs, opening his mouth to a smile and his heart to a moment of peace. He sprinted out onto the mountaintop, then Ciun landed across from him.
She stood across from him, a slight hunch like she was ready to take action.
“Hah!” Illus shouted, “I win!”
Ciun paused, her neck pulling back, mouth slightly ajar.
“I thought for sure you would win,” Illus gloated, “being as fast and flighty as you are.”
She tilted her head, then frowned. “You did not win.”
“I did.” He marched proudly to the stone seat. “My foot hit the peak before yours. That means I get the thr-r-rone.” He rolled his tongue with pompous gusto for ‘throne.’ Sitting down, back straight, he let out a large sigh. “It’s quite comfortable, a little thin for me, but nice and smooth.”
“Get out of my seat.” She stood up straight, her mouth stern, the mask’s eyes imposing as ever.
“You’ve had it thousands of years, Ciun. Can a man not take his winner’s seat after a successful race? Just once?”
“Get up.”
Illus spoke before he thought. “Make me.”
She stood in place, slightly biting her lip.
“Afraid I’ll take your mask if you get close? Afraid the fox has been whispering in my ear?” He twitched his eye at her with a smile.
Suddenly she was in his face, a sharpened wooden spear rearing back to impale him through the chest.
He didn’t move. “Not real.”
The spear thrust through him, causing no injury. Illus picked a piece of stone from his pocket and flicked it through the mirage. It dissipated into mist and he prepared to raise his eyebrows at her once it cleared, but she wasn’t there.
A swift kick to the back knocked him upward. His stomach shot into his chest like he was weightless and he took off flipping in the air, upside-down just in time to see Ciun taking her seat back with a smug grin.
All of the gravel in his pockets spilled out into the air, up his nose, in his eyes. Illus coughed and sputtered as he returned upright, then landed on his feet.
Illus held his head, regained his bearings, and then chuckled. “I didn’t think you would be such a sore loser.”
“I didn’t lose.”
“I should really be thanking Ani right now, because if nothing else, she taught me how to spot lies quite well.”
Ciun crossed her legs. “I’ll say.” She held up his journal and opened it to the first page. “She does look like quite the liar.” Illus’s smile faded as she also procured the ring, analyzing it closely. “Strange taste in jewelry, too. Was this hers?”
He turned away. “It was going to be hers.”
“A gift?”
“A proposal. I almost did it right on this mountain.”
“A proposal for what?” Ciun flipped through the rest of the notebook.
Illus turned back to her, bewilderment in his expression. “No such thing as marriage in your time?”
“Oh, we had that. Is the ring part of your ceremonies?”
“The man is supposed to give a ring when he asks for the woman’s hand in marriage. It’s usually a prepared thing on a planned day and the man surprises her with it.”
Ciun straightened up in surprise. “Your women get a say in marriage?!”
“Yes, um, they do. I presume it was different for you?”
“They used to throw us into the catacombs and make men chase us to steal the mask. Whoever got it would be led out by the fox and then given to each other.”
Illus’s eyes went wide. “That’s horrifying.”
“Tell that to the suitors who never made it out.” Ciun chuckled. “Well, that was just my family. Most normal people were arranged by their parents.”
“So then…” pity overtook Illus’s face, “all of your family lost their souls?”
Her smile faded with a slight nod. “How did you learn that?”
“The fox showed me a poem.”
“Where do you think their souls are now?” She asked him as though to give him the answer.
Illus lowered his head. “The fox?”
She didn’t respond.
“So you are bound to the fox in what you can and can’t say.”
A pained half-smile crept up her cheek with no response.
A sigh escaped his lungs and he sat down across from her. “What can you say?”
“Nothing about anything important. I can only show what has been.” She rose. An etherealness took hold of her form in the moon’s glow, like an aura of pale blue light emanating around her. She raised her thin hand and pointed to the sky.
The stars above began to dance, taking on the outlines of a man, a woman, and a fox. The woman was distant, drifting off into the night as the man threw himself and leapt between stars, never catching her. Then, the fox twisted between the pearly dots, never touching them as it approached the grieving man. Silent words were exchanged, and the man pleaded to the fox, who placed a mask on his face. The fox flicked a star, which careened across the blackness into the back of the woman’s head. She turned, seeing the man in the mask, curiosity drawing her closer.
She drifted to him and pulled the mask free to see his face. Suddenly their stars collided in an explosion of rainbow sparks. They slowly reappeared, but the man’s stars were no longer twinkling, a dull blue they had become. For all the colors which returned to the woman, his swirled through the sky behind the moon, where the fox was watching, hidden. Into its mouth the colors flew and the fox doubled in size. The man and woman’s stars joined together, creating the outlines of children in bright, twinkling azure stars.
Then the fox crept forward from his place behind the moon, a sly grin on its face. It presented a brilliantly shining sun, and in exchange the father gave one of his daughters to the fox. The fox placed the mask on that young woman’s face and gave the father the orb.
The sky flared indigo as a comet appeared. The father held the orb upward. A bolt of light shot from the comet to the orb, and suddenly the sky was a swirling paradise, outlines of a grand temple, the father crowned above his people.
Meanwhile below, his daughter raced through darkness, bouncing between stars until caught by a man and unmasked. Her twinkles, like her father, dissipated into the fox, who grew yet again. And she? Dull, lifeless blue dots pulled along by the one who took her mask.
The stars were yet unfinished with their story, though. The mother witnessed her daughter being pulled along. She witnessed her husband exchange another of their children for an endless wealth of glittering gold. So she took her youngest and ran away into the night, but the fox followed.
It showed the colorful twinkles of her husband and daughter, screaming in a twisting vat of darkness, a void in the deep night sky. It held the void over them, then a hand to the child.
The mother fell to her knees and let go of her youngest son, who the fox pulled away, then placed the mask in his hands. The edges of the fox’s belly sparkled with light, which the twinkles of the young boy’s father and sister reached for desperately. Only when the boy put on the mask was his desperate family engulfed in light. The boy meagerly stepped forward to a girl, who unmasked him. With his twinkles, so too did his mother’s tear fall, for the fox was fed and would be forever.
The mother wept, then leapt to the Earth, where her stars scattered into sparkles and melded into the soil. As her stars scattered, her husband upon the throne grasped his head and fluttered away as blue flecks in the wind.
All the stars above returned to their places, and Illus’s eyes fell to Ciun, the lone masked woman.
Illus’s gaze fell to the ground. “And the mask will keep you alive until you are unmasked?”
She didn’t respond, but he saw a single tear fall down her cheek as she turned to face the moon.
“What was that orb the fox had that the comet-” Illus paused. “The comet stone? One of the poems spoke of it.”
Again, silence from Ciun.
Illus walked toward the chair, leaned down to pick up the journal and the ring, then righted himself. “Wishes granted by the comet stone. Does it-”
His eyes were fixated on the woman in front of him, her back to him, within arm’s reach. The edge of the mask’s eye was turned to him, but she was so close.
She said nothing.
“It- it…” his eyes became fixated on her, noticing the tiny trembles she made with every move of his.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Illus slowly walked around the seat, making a wide arc until he was in front of her, a safe distance for her. “Is the fox near? Can you tell?”
“The top of this mountain is my domain. The only respite from the fox.”
“Domain?” Illus’s eyes returned to the page. “Fox offers domain to he who’s known, wishes granted by the comet stone. So the fox has the comet stone, which can grant wishes?”
Ciun said nothing, pursing her lips.
Illus clenched his face and slapped his cheeks. “Okay, can the comet stone grant wishes?”
“The comet stone may grant a benevolent desire most true when the comet passes overhead in the dry season. Think not a wish, but a desire, a dream.”
“Great.” He flipped through the pages again. “Do you know where the comet stone is?”
“I cannot access the comet stone.”
Illus rubbed his chin. “I presume the fox also has a domain, one with the same rules?”
She said nothing, then, just as Illus was about to speak, she held out her hand to stop him. “The rules of the prison are unilateral, but each of us, our own restrictions.”
He looked to the ground. “Wait, but if the fox is a god, or… what is the fox?”
Illus skimmed through the poems again, but struggled to find anything else. “Is the comet stone of the fox’s magic, or does it simply house the comet stone?”
Ciun sighed and sat down. “Illus, I don’t even have the answers to some of your questions, but becoming engrossed in this game… it’s why the others died. The fox always wins.”
“The fox will not give me a choice in that matter, Ciun. That, I realize, so I’ve been studying up on those poems. In the first one,” he flipped through the journal, “fifth couplet, ‘Words, spoken are secrets in cipher, Grief, known to none other than her.’ That’s talking about how you can’t say much about the nature of the fox or these ruins. The burden it is. Ninth couplet. ‘Love may guide thee further toward fates, Of truly wise mind has nothing he hates.’ The fox feeds on emotions, and hate is a strong one. Love, on the other hand, cherishes what is.”
Ciun rose from her seat, still saying nothing, but her mouth hung ajar slightly.
“The second poem, the lie, I assume is contradictory to the author’s actual thoughts, perhaps to investigate the fox, and speaks of you quite negatively. Nevertheless, it blatantly told me you would lose your soul, and the fox was happy to indulge that thought. Then this final one gave me the last confirmation I needed that these poems were written in your favor.”
He quickly drew in the journal and tossed it to Ciun. In each poem, the first words were circled the whole way down.
Ciun held the journal blankly.
“Have you read them?” Illus side-eyed her.
“I cannot read your script. Only speak.”
“The mask?”
She didn’t respond, just tossed the journal back to him.
“‘A land ye traverse whose history hidden by words, grief, to reward he who cherishes the love of Ciun. It’s missing the final word, but the message conveys enough.’ And then ‘In her lies a truth the fox wishes to conceal, a woman burdened with a curse, her mask, her chains.’ Finally, ‘Follow Ciun.’”
She turned away from Illus as he snapped the journal shut.
“I thought the first one was a coincidence, and the second I was unsure. But the third, well, it’s a bit obvious. Not well hidden, but the fox follows a verse. The first words are aligned, unversed in a way the fox wouldn’t dare read.” Illus turned back to the edge of the mountain. “I’ve been scouring the ruins for more poems, but it’s been largely a failure. Do you know where any others are?”
She said nothing.
“Ciun? Can you not speak of them?”
Again, she said nothing, but her jaw shook.
“Can you point in a direction? Tilt your head? Something?”
Her words were laced with venom. “You know who wrote them, but you haven’t the slightest idea who he was.”
“You’re right. I do not know what Carmonia did, but I think he saw the truth of the matter, even if the fox had twisted his mind. I spent a long time studying him. He had a brilliant mind despite a lot of the things he did. If anyone’s unraveled this game, or left clues on it, it may have been him.”
She froze in place, then took a deep breath. “Carmonia was a depraved man, Illus. What he put me through is proof enough that this is all a filthy trap. He was practically bedding with the fox.”
Illus took a step forward. “I am truly sorry for whatever he put you through, but at this point, I can’t care about what he did. I need to learn all I can if I am going to survive the fox. Are there any more poems?”
She shook her head. “They have to be a trick,” her voice deepened, hatred seething in, so full of disbelief. “Carmonia was a raving lunatic, he would never-”
“That matters nothing to me! Ciun, I-” Illus walked up to her, close enough to touch.
She whirled around, pushing off of him in a fright and landing near the edge.
He stumbled backward, holding his hands up by his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you Ciun, but you and the fox, your powers are manipulation and deception no matter the intention. Carmonia knew that. What if he deceived the fox and you intentionally, so you would hate him and the fox would have no doubts that he would turn? What if these messages are all his broken mind could muster because he couldn’t do whatever it is he needed to do himself? He was nothing if not vainly curious, so I have no doubt he would sell himself away to learn the truth.”
Her head hung low, clenching her hand in front of her chest.
“There are three places in these ruins I have not scoured yet. The catacombs, the fox’s domain, and wherever you reside. I fear that I will end up in all three of those places if… when the fox breaks me. I don’t want to become another Carmonia.” He clenched his fists, trying to hold back his frustration. “Are you hiding it from me? I don’t need to see it, Ciun. Take some paper, the pencil, copy the poem for me if that pleases you. Unless you fear what it says because you can read it, and you’ve been lying to me.”
She said nothing.
Illus bit his upper lip, trying to hold back his quickly rising temper. His voice became something of a growl. “I think I see the picture now. This is why you’ve been here thousands of years, isn’t it? Is this how it went with all the other explorers, people who came by? Just as they begin to figure it out, when they need your help, you refuse? For what?!”
Desperation overtook him. “Witch, sorceress, woman, Ciun, Enae, whatever you truly are beneath that mask… it doesn’t matter anymore. The fox gains an edge whether I am with you or away from you. You know as well as I do why it stranded me here and not any others.”
The mask turned to him, wordless.
Illus walked away, facing out toward the lake where Ciun could not see his face. Flipping open the notebook, he stared at the first page and breathed. Seeing Anilee reminded him of a happier time, when he was simply reading and sharing snacks, drinking tea and tossing theories back and forth. He smiled at the sketch of Anilee’s face, then ripped it out and tossed it off the cliff. His eyes welled up against his will.
“I’m a heartbroken man whose desires are easy for the fox to manipulate. Emotionally sporadic and wounded. If I remain away from you, the fox will drive me mad with desire, as it has been doing. If I stay close to you, the fox is also at the upper hand because it will play on whatever relationship forms until I am close enough that it catches me off guard in a lucky moment. Lies and manipulation from the fox. Half-truths and silence from you. I’m in a game that demands I play, where I’ll never know the true nature of either side, but I have to pick one if I want to live, to keep myself. One promises everything I could ever want, the other only pushes me away. What should I do, Ciun?”
Ciun sighed, a remorseful frown creeping down her cheeks. “Who do you think you should trust?”
He turned back to her. “I already trust you, Ciun.”
She backed away slightly.
He stepped closer. “I’m not asking you to put yourself in danger. I’m asking you to trust me a little in return. Not Carmonia. Not the fox. Me. If I read Carmonia’s poems and they seem to be a trap, I’ll call it there. My gut says Carmonia has answers, and I need answers if I’m going to make it out of here alive. You trusting me is my only chance of surviving this place.”
Ciun hunched down, ready to leap away.
Illus turned away and took her seat, a somber smile as his white tied-back hair waved in the moonlight. “Leap and run if you so choose. The fox said that without the mask, you would become… uh, I forget his blabbery words, but it sounded like you have no agency over anything. Like a walking corpse, a mindless body. That may sound like a thrilling reward to treasure seekers who come through here, but that’s how Ani treated me, and I simply hated it.” He chuckled.
Ciun tilted her head as if confused or caught off guard.
“I don’t see how anyone could enjoy the thought of dragging you around like a puppet. I’ve realized that I quite enjoy your company as you are. Then again, sometimes talking to you is like trying to break a brick wall with my skull.”
The mask’s eyes locked on him. “Excuse me?”
He laughed, softening. “That’s what I mean. There’s an icy chill behind the cool eyes of that mask that I quite enjoy. The fox wants to play on me being a heartbroken fool, but bodies wither. Love doesn’t. It’s why I think Carmonia is on my side, because he hinted at it. The fox can’t make me change what I hold with unfaltering resolve. And no matter the allure of your unnatural blues and natural beauty, I’d much rather know you for you, because that’s the only part of you that will last forever.”
Ciun’s eyes locked on the man in the moonlight. His exhausted yet pleasant expression, scraggly ivory hair with shiny lavender streaks, gray eyes that shimmered like silver, and confident demeanor.
“You’re full of it,” she blurted out.
He snickered. “This isn’t really a confession as much as an observation, but I presume the fox will toy with my emotions until I love or hate you one way or the other. But the fox has no grasp of love. I’m unsure if I do either. The fox is much more accustomed to hate, which is what I would prefer to avoid. What I know is that if I do end up loving you, I want to do it in a way that the fox cannot touch. In a way that’s honest. How can the fox manipulate my love if it doesn’t even understand love?”
“I’m thousands of years old and I still don’t understand it.”
“That’s part of my point. Love is a million different things! To every relationship is a unique flavor, a variation thereof. Romantic, familial, platonic, I could probably name plenty more with a dictionary on hand. But it’s shown in countless ways. A caress, an affirmation, even a condemnation! Self or other. So long as there is good intent, something may be derived from love, if it is true to the heart. The fox thinks it is delusion and appearance, but I warrant love is the very opposite of that.”
Ciun turned away. “And it is leaving, letting go. Allowing yourself to move on. Honesty with yourself and all others.”
“Precisely. It’s not a rational thing to be understood, it’s a feeling, a sense, an agreement. How can the fox outmaneuver us if we’re operating in our own language of sorts?”
“I want- I want to believe you more than anything, Illus. Truly. But with the fox- I wish…” she paused, staring at her hands folded close to her chest, “there’s no vow, no plea in the world that can outmaneuver the fox.”
Illus let his head hang, gaze locked on the ring in his palm. “It doesn’t have to be words, either, but I know what you mean. It can’t hurt to try, though. I’m not asking you to commit for life, a romantic relationship, or even a true friendship. There’s still a life for me back home, one that may yet include Ani. But we need to be honest if we’re- if I’m going to make it out alive. I have no other choice.”
Ciun stepped closer to Illus, still out of arm’s reach, but she wasn’t fidgeting or flinching. “The fox twists the truth, Illus. No honesty in the world can overcome its machinations.”
He nodded, “But honesty builds trust, which no mirage can break. I’m sure the fox has already prepared a million different visions to torture me all with Ani’s visage. And my sister and Sator. Probably you as well. Maybe even myself. The wait is the cruelest part. This false sense of hope, security. But if my suffering means I may live, and maybe you’ll be uncursed, then I’m happy to endure.”
“Nothing good can come of it. Illus, I…” Her mouth shut as if against her will.
“Nothing good has to come to me if it’s for the good of all else. But can you promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“When we finally break this curse from you, I would like to see what color your eyes are. I have a sneaking suspicion that I know.”
An air of lightness took her voice. “What color do you think they are?”
He slowly pointed. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say blue. Seems to be the motif around here.”
“It is the fox’s favorite color. And I think I may know what Anilee’s favorite color is.”
“You’ve only just figured it out?”
“I thought all the white was just a coincidence until I saw the ring.” She opened her hand. “May I see it again?”
Illus was about to walk up to hand it to her, but stopped and stayed seated. “It was quite expensive, can you catch?”
“Can you throw?”
He tossed it to Ciun, who swiped it from the air. She slowly stepped around Illus until her back was to the moon, and he was staring at her silhouette. Her hand held the ring high, the clear sapphire refracting the silvery glow in a little halo.
“Quite the stud. She has good taste.”
“Eh, it’s nice. I think it’s called a single-cut.”
“Hm?” She glanced back to the ring, “I suppose the gemstone is nice too,” and tossed it.
He froze in place, all the blood in his body rushing to his face, the ring landing perfectly in his chest pocket.
She smirked at him. “If you want to love me so honestly that you forget about the mask, you’ll have to be able to handle a little banter.”
“Is it safe to do that with the fox around?”
“Probably not…” she muttered as her bare feet silently tiptoed along the edge, “but I don’t want to lie to you, either. Trust sounds nice, and I would be lying if I said I didn't find you at least a little charming.”
“Heh,” he rolled his eyes at the ground. “Charming enough to score a poem?”
“The fox would write you a better poem than me.”
Illus sighed, some frustration creeping into his stare at Ciun.
“I know of two more. I can show you one now, and I will show you the other once I know the fox hasn’t planted his seeds in your head.”
He pushed up off his knees. “Where is it?”
She pointed over the east edge of the mountain, toward the crescent lake. Illus approached it, glancing down and around the peak, finding nothing.
Suddenly, his stomach lurched again and he saw the world falling out from under him as he rose into the air. Ciun stood at the edge, pointing down.
“It’s on the shoreline, under a crag in the mountain. This side of the mountain can only be accessed by climbing down from here, but you’ll land safely.” A smirk crawled up along the mask.
Illus soared farther than he noticed, the lake below reflecting the sky above him. Wind rushed around his ears in his slow descent toward the water.
“The water is quite nice this time of year!” She giggled and waved him away.
“Ciun! I-” Panic set in as she disappeared from his sight. “I can’t swim!”
No trees in reach and nothing to help him slow his gentle fall, he flew further from the shoreline every second.
Then another tap hit his back and he craned his head to find the source. Ciun was upside down above him, then gone the next second. He flipped tail over teakettle toward the sandy beach, landing flat on his back, head toward the water. His weight returned to him upon touching the ground, and his eyes caught something out on the water.
The world was upside down from where he was, but he was completely transfixed on the woman on the water, leaping and bounding effortlessly off of the gentle waves. All on her tiptoes. The moon and stars shimmered beneath her feet as she slowly bounced to the shore, little ripples spreading across the sky with every step.
Illus rolled over, completely enraptured in the ethereal sight. “That looks so fun,” was the only thought that came to mind and escaped his mouth.
She snickered, caught off guard by his childish smile. “Do you want to put on the mask?”
“That’s quite the tempting offer if you ignore the numerous downsides. Call it, right now. Consequences aside, that mask has to be at least a little fun.”
The mask stared solemnly at him. Ciun was the opposite story. “I won’t-” quick, little laughs broke from her mouth like supremely loud giggles, “I won’t say it’s an entirely miserable curse.”
Illus noticed an odd humor about her, reacting so strongly to little things, and then a more sobering thought crossed his mind. She didn’t seem like she laughed very often, and this was likely the most socialization she had seen in hundreds of years.
“You should…” Illus carefully picked his words, slowly constructing his sentence as he spoke, “let me have that bouncy- jumping- lightness magic… for even just a few minutes.”
She snorted, immediately standing upright and covering her mouth.
Illus fought a tough battle against laughing at her, “Not for long, just to… oh… you know… jump around.”
She showed a pity smile, all she had for him. “No.”
“Ciun, I promise it has nothing to do with taking that mask…” he looked away, “and it’s a little childish, but… perhaps…” he thought up some sugar coating for this proposal. “Perhaps using the mask's magic will assist me in understanding the poems, the magic, and undoing this curse?” He shrugged and smiled, raising his eyebrows at her as innocently as possible.
She said nothing, covering her mouth so as to not burst out laughing again.
He folded his hands in prayer and held that innocent facade at her. “Oh, eternally wise and beautiful sorceress of the ruins, might a humble and honest man as myself have but a crumb of magic for a few minutes of fun?”
She made a pyramid with her hands and set the peak against her lips, deep in thought, then pointed them at him. “After you figure out this next poem.”
He pumped his arm back, a bright smile taking his face and a playfully stern way about his tone. “Then what are you doing dawdling here for, Ciun? Show me! We’re wasting precious moonlight!” Illus promptly turned around and set off toward the mountain, searching for outcroppings near the ground. The next poem was close to the ground, beneath a lip in the rock behind a tuft of trees.
Ciun walked up behind him with a blue flame in her hand as he read it.
Illus grimaced at the wall.
“What does it say?” She asked.
“It says you have to give me bouncy magic so I can read it.”
She stared at him. Silence.
“It’s all scrambled. It’ll be a while.” He lightly groaned, took out his journal, and began copying it down.
n:iCu
eTh
liKl
dunof, ewher opT
dworenc, ensto sTi
dougnr. on th’Nae
lkil, aym nCui
ltrilh, het sI
lilw. swokn xFo
hrbtea ehr eRsi
hleastt, m’stis Fro
heatd. mfor wonD
xF:o
oT
semiPro
krad mrof Seont
kar rhe ehrWe
khra. hes eMaz
eon, ton sturT
nush, I eHr
edon. lit eLif
od I eLi
hwo, kown uYo
hrotguh. lal Tsurt
Once Illus finished copying the poems, he ascended the narrow path up the back of the mountain, rising with the sun. For the rest of the day, he toiled away at unscrambling the poem so he could later decipher it.