Orun was a wizard. But he was not the typical wizard that throws fire balls with his wand. No. He was a Wizard of Cards. He used his magical cards to trap Spirits into them. It was a very dangerous job.

Orun was now sitting in front of a temple, surrounded by a very ancient forest. He was sitting there, under the reddish colors of the sunset, in the lotus posture, his eyes closed. Beforehand, he had surrounded the old temple with a thin red thread with golden bells. Those big old trees were good vessels to create a stable, etheric barrier. Now, he was waiting, silently.

But he was not meditating. Not even relaxing. 

Just focused. Very focused. 

The aetheric wind started blowing and the bells started making a sound that exactly matched the frequency of that place. Or, to be more precise, the frequency of the power that had inhabited that place for centuries. Places are also vessels. An abandoned temple built over an aetheric vein. But the power had been there much longer before the temple existed.

The bells were calling, with their soft, tingling voice. 

And a presence started to fill the temple. A very ancient presence. Its old power was gone. It was very weak. He still could feel the echo of its great old power, but it was just that: an echo, a faint shadow. 

Attracted by the bells, it came out of the temple. He could see it without opening his eyes. As he expected, it was a white fox with seven tails. Or at least that used to be the case. Now he was all grey and old, and all but two tails were gone. 

When the fox reached the thread, he opened his big, brown eyes wide towards it.

-Ino mälle Kaldús!

The red thread that, until now, was hanging on the trees, tightened around the Spirit, trapping it. Desperately, it tried to come out, it tried to change its shape, but this was not a common thread. This was a magical thread that prevented transformation. It was made to trap spirits.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

But the thread was breaking. Orun knew he had to act fast.

He took out his card deck from his bag. Then, he spread the cards swiftly on the grass in front of the struggling spirit. A deck with 33 cards, one for every Rune. He spread them in 11 different groups, one for each Magical Path. The thread was at the brink of breaking. The spirit, then, would attack him. It had happened before and it was not pretty. Even weak spirits can cause havoc when they are under threat.

What is your Magical Path? Show me! Alún da yo!

The spirit’s vibration, enhanced by its painful struggle, aligned with one of the groups: the Dimensional Path. 

And now, show me your card. Now! Sulla da yo! Za!

The vibration from the Spirit connected to his fingers and his hand descended over one of the cards: the Guardian.

At this same moment, the fox broke the red thread and jumped over him to attack, his jaws open. Orun took the Guardian card, used the spirit’s rage, and threw it at him. The card stopped in front of the fox, floating in the air, and started to rotate fast. Confusion, same vibrations. This made the fox stop in midair. Seven seconds of confusion. He had counted it, after so many encounters in the past. 

So he took a blank card from his coat’s pocket, threw it toward the Guardian card, and got attached behind it.

Got you.

Three seconds left. 

He took his dagger, now shining with celestial light, and pierced his own chest with it. Now, the worst part of it all. Cold steel, the intense pain. He was dying. He could never get used to this. Never. 

But shortly after, the warm aetheric energy filled his chest. One second left. He screamed.

–Enna sún, Kaldús!

Around the wound in his chest, a tattoo appeared with that light blue color. A spiral at the center. From it, eleven flames spread out and, over the top of each flame, three sparkles.

33 sparkles.

The Spirit screamed in silence, struggled from the last time and, then, it became a ball of light. The ball was sucked, in many strands, by the blank card behind the Guardian’s. A beautiful and young fox with seven tails was drawn on it and, under it, its true name: Kaldús.

Finally, the new card entered through Orun’s tattoo and disappeared. 

It was done. 

Orun collapsed on the floor, his heart racing, trembling from head to toe. Breath. Breath. Relax. He imagined the young fox running free through the Aether, powerful once again. 

It was done.