The chamber of Seven-Tail’s pyramid lay steeped in skeletal shadows, its former grandeur reduced to a hollow carcass. Unlike Six-Tail’s domain, no celestial crystals pulsed here—no veins of light to illuminate the cracked obsidian walls.

The white monkeys had stripped it bare, spiriting treasures away to their dens, leaving only dust and the ghostly imprints of plundered gold. Cobwebs clung to the vaulted ceiling like funeral shrouds, trembling in the draft of my arrival.

The seven-tailed monkey’s disdain for flame was evident. No torches lined the walls; no embers glinted in the cold braziers. Darkness clung to the chamber like tar, thick enough to choke even a blindworm’s senses. No matter. This tomb was mine now—a depressing sanctuary, yet leagues sweeter than being stuck in a chamber with Six-Tails.

I spent the night sifting through my hoard, the storage bracelet on my wrist casting a cold sapphire glow on my form. Its light carved jagged shapes across the chamber, making the shadows cower. Within its dull dimension, gemstones whispering forgotten spells, daggers etched with dead tongues, and at the center—the mirror.

It hovered in the storage dimension’s grey void, inert yet watchful. Silver filigree coiled around its edges, the inscriptions etched there glowing with a sickly pallor, like bone exposed to moonlight. The glass itself refused reflection, its surface a churning void of static—a blizzard frozen mid-storm. A relic meant to devour, not reveal.

Had I glimpsed this abyss earlier, without the buffer of the storage dimension’s nullifying grip, I might’ve joined the mirror’s collection of hollowed souls.

The fox’s cunning demanded equal artistry. To plant this poison in his den, I’d need to weave a lie seamless as the mirror’s lies.

‘Perhaps I could set up a situation to fool them. Set the mirror up for a “chance” discovery, a stumbled-upon relic, ripe for plunder.’ I mused, pondering different scenarios.

I paced in the air, the celestial dew’s fire still crackling in my veins. The divine tonic was akin to an energy drink , making sleep a distant rumor. My mind spun scenarios like a spider’s silk—each thread a gambit, each knot a betrayal. The foxes’ trust would be the noose. The mirror, the blade.

And I? The hand that tightened both.

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Before I knew it, dawn was creeping in through the pyramid’s doorway, painting the dusty chamber in pale violet. I blinked, stiff from hours hunched over on the stone floor. ‘Damn, did I really spend the whole night scheming?’ I realized.

A shadow flickered in the entrance. My bracelet flared, and a sword materialized midair, its tip aimed at the intruder. “The hell’re you—?” I cut myself off.

It was just a monkey. A pathetic one. Barely two feet tall, with patchy black fur and a tail so scrawny it looked like it’d been half-eaten. Its dull blue eyes widened as it clutched the doorframe, trembling like a leaf in a storm. In truth, I was only a little over three feet tall now myself, but since I usually floated in the air—I tended to think of myself as larger than I really was.

“You’re sh*t outta luck.” I snorted, lowering the sword. “Place’s picked cleaner than a vulture’s breakfast.”

The thing didn’t bolt. Instead, it hunched smaller, its squeaky voice a whisper, “You… have food?”

Food I’d expected demands for treasure, not a beggar’s plea. Up close, its ribs jutted like ladder rungs. ‘It was probably orphaned after I torched the forest, or after Seven-Tails’ untimely demise.’ I mused, appraising the small creature.

“I got nothing for you.” I said, sharper than I meant to. Its ears drooped, and it shuffled backward, shoulders slumped.

‘Ugh. C’mon, Kane. Even street thugs feed strays.’ I thought, guilt pricking at my heart. “Wait—!” I growled, flicking my wrist. A rusty dagger clattered onto the stones from within my storage dimension. “Take that. Hunt a rat or whatever. Just go.”

The monkey stared, then snatched the blade—hilariously oversized in its tiny paws—and bolted.

I slumped against the air, grinding my teeth. ‘Since when do I play charity for rodents?’ But the guilt gnawed harder than hunger. Celeste’s mirror glinted from my bracelet, smug.

‘Focus. Foxes to trick, mothers to find.’ I steeled my resolve, deciding to put the first steps of my plan into motion before the sun had fully risen.

I exited the chamber, revealing the pyramid’s colossal staircase—a spine of weathered stone descending into the shadows below. Halfway up, the tiny black figure I’d seen earlier scrambled down the steps, a shadowy insect against the monolith. I dismissed it, channeling aether until the air around me thrummed, lifting me skyward with a surge.

The direction I needed to go was East, where Six-Tails’ pyramid clawed at the horizon, its silhouette a jagged crown against the violet-colored dawn.

Beneath me, the forest blurred into an emerald sea, its tangled depths reduced to a fleeting smear. Ten minutes—a short trip—and the twin pyramids loomed ahead, their obsidian facets devouring the weak sunlight. The pavilion sprawled barren below, empty and devoid of life. No white-furred monkeys chattered in the trees; only the wind moaned through the empty clearing.

I slowed at the main pyramid’s entrance, preparing to cross the doorway’s boundary. Then—a sound. Not wind. A wail, guttural and wet, like a creature drowning in its own blood. It slithered up my spine, sharp as a shiv.

“Six-Tails!” I shouted, bursting into the chamber. The name died in my throat.

The monkey lay contorted on the floor, his ivory fur matted with a viscous black ooze that reeked of rot and burnt sugar. Muscles writhed beneath his skin, bulging grotesquely as bones snapped audibly, reshaping. His six tails lashed the air—no, seven. The new appendage sprouted from his spine, raw and twitching, its furless flesh glistening like a newborn rat.

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He lunged before I could retreat. Aether surged instinctively, hurling him against the wall. Black sludge splattered the walls as stone cracked. He writhed in my telekinetic grip, eyes hemorrhaging crimson, jaws frothing.

“Flying… pup?” The voice was his, yet alien—a rasp scraped from a rusted pipe.

I didn’t loosen my hold. Licks of sweat gathered on my brow from the exertion, “What.. happened to you?”

Six-Tails groaned, his eyes slowly returning to their original luster, “Transform, me get stronger.” he said, his body still oozing that sticky substance.

Whatever this transformation was, it was disgusting. I had no clue that it was such an… involved practice.

I narrowed my eyes, meeting the monkey’s wild gaze as he hovered midair, muscles still twitching beneath his sludge-slick fur. “If I let go, will you attack me again?”

“Yes.” he growled, the word a gravelly rumble that vibrated through the chamber.

I sighed, keeping him suspended until his tremors stilled. When his breaths finally steadied, I lowered him to the ground. He rose like a storm given form, cracked stone groaning under his newfound bulk.

Ten feet of sinew and fury now loomed where a smaller primate once stood, his head nearly brushing the chamber’s vaulted ceiling. The stench of decay clung to him—thick, cloying, like a swamp’s rancid breath. I retreated, pinching my nose.

“How’re you feeling, Six-Tails?” I asked, appraising the monkey with caution.

He flexed arms thicker than tree trunks, veins snaking beneath fur matted with drying black ooze. “Not six tails. Seven tails now.”

I smirked. “That’s gonna get old fast. How about I give you a name… Tofu?” I blurted out, giving him the first name I could think of.

His head tilted, ears flicking. “Name? What… is name? Tofu?”

“Tofu means strong.” I lied, biting back a grin.

His jagged teeth flashed. “Tofu! Good name!”

I barked a laugh—perfect. However, he lurched forward, reeking of rot, and I backpedaled. “Stay there! What is that stench?!”

He glanced at his oozing limbs, “Weakness leaks out. Ate banana. Pushed bad things.”

‘Celestial fruit side effects? No time to dwell.’ I mused, “Forget the sludge. I know how to get more bananas.”

Tofu’s eyes blazed like cobalt fire. “Bananas?! How?!” Spittle hung in strings from his jaws.

With a flick of my wrist, a splintered wooden staff clattered to the floor. It was the flaming stick the monkey had previously wielded. “Red foxes are under the Great Tree. They’re killing it. No bananas ’til they’re gone.”

He snatched the staff—a twig in his now gargantuan grip—and roared. “Blood rats?! Hate blood rats!”

‘He knows them already. Should make things easier.’ I nodded. “Gather every monkey you can. Meet me at my pyramid.”

Tofu thumped his chest, the sound echoing like a war drum. “Yes, flying pup! Bring simians!”

“Do that,” I said, drifting toward the exit, “and you’ll drown in bananas.”

His guttural laughter chased me out of the chamber and into the sky, where I soared above the canopy, the wind scrubbing the stink from my naked skin. Below, the forest bristled with unseen threats—and possibilities.

The next phase of my plan demanded subtlety—a delicate dance of deception. The mirror needed to fall into vulpine paws without a whisper of suspicion. That wily old fox, Vyrrin, would sniff out any overt ploy, so the trap had to feel like fate’s caprice. Let them believe they’d unearthed a relic, a serendipitous prize to bolster their trade. Greed, after all, was a universal language.

Celeste’s warning slithered through my mind: ‘Their souls will bare themselves.’ Whatever arcane curse the mirror harbored, it promised vulnerability—a window into their souls, making them ripe for exploitation. Grim? Undoubtedly. But in that moment of exposure, I’d strike.

Yet contingency plans brewed in the shadows of my thoughts as I approached the towering tree in the distance. My aether, though formidable, couldn’t withstand hundreds of enemies. Over the course of four centuries Vyrrin had likely taught his kin how to use his techniques, I would need an equally strong technique to match them. Memories of the inferno I’d unleashed upon the black-furred monkeys flickered like embers—a wildfire’s indiscriminate wrath. Fire. The great equalizer.

My most potent weapon was the technique I had discovered back in that battle. Using fire in conjunction with my aether was a technique that could more than rival anything Ruby mana could do.

But as I hovered above Elaria’s tree, its celestial leaves shimmering like fractured sapphires, reality doused the idea.

Idiot. Burning the tree would reduce everything—foxes, roots, hope—to ash. No lifeblood to revive the tree, no path to my mother. I clenched my fists, the sting of frustration sharp as the pine-scented wind. I’d have to hope the mirror’s effects were strong enough to ensure my victory.

Below, the tree pulsed faintly, its once-vibrant glow now a faltering heartbeat. Two centuries of vulpine thirst had siphoned its vigor, leaving it a spectral husk. The foxes’ tunnels coiled beneath like parasitic veins, hidden beneath a tapestry of moss and twisted roots.

I descended, alighting near a pond where iridescent dragonflies skimmed the water’s glassy surface. With a flick of my wrist, the mirror materialized—a thing of tarnished silver, its edges etched with glyphs that hummed with dormant malice. It sank into the shallows, half-submerged, catching the sunlight in jagged shards.

To a casual glance, it might pass for driftwood adorned with odd carvings. But the keen-eyed would notice the way it repelled the water, droplets sliding off its surface like mercury.

As the mirror splashed into the pond, birds erupted from the reeds in a flurry of indigo wings, their cries ending the stillness. I retreated to a gnarled oak off to the side, its branches clawing at the sky. From this perch, the mirror glinted—a sly wink in the afternoon light.

‘Come on, take the bait.’ I prompted, mentally crossing my fingers. For many hours I sat on my perch, patiently waiting.

Hours bled into dusk. Shadows stretched, and the pond mirrored the twilight in streaks of violet and gold. Then—movement. A crimson muzzle emerged from the undergrowth, followed by a lithe form. A fox, its fur the color of dried blood, paused at the water’s edge. Its ears twitched, nostrils flaring as it approached the mirror.

My breath stilled. The fox circled the artifact, head cocked. A paw prodded it. Then another. Suddenly, it recoiled, hackles raised, as if the mirror had whispered a secret only beasts could hear. For a heartbeat, I feared the ruse had failed—until the fox’s tails lashed with sudden fervor. It barked, a sharp staccato call, and two more foxes materialized from the brush.

Together, they hauled the mirror from the muck, their claws careful yet eager. As they vanished into the gloom, I exhaled, ‘On to the next step.’

The forest held its breath. Somewhere below, the mirror’s curse coiled like a viper. And I, poised in the gathering dark, readied myself to become the storm.