A makeshift magical circle had been set on the floor, down in the hold. It was a spell I had never used before — a mix of Fate and Dimension, with a framework drawn in chalk and mana, creating a barrier to keep whatever was inside contained. A precaution against whatever controlled the necklace. I had learned of the spell during my time at the Academy, even though I had never been able to cast it, given my deficiency with Dimension. But one that was a staple for any kind of magical research.

The miniature dragon lay at the center of the circle, inert to all physical senses. But Soul Sight showed a different tale — it thrummed with Origin, though not strongly. In hindsight, I should have given it a close inspection long ago, given where it had come from. But it was Sarah’s possession, and moreover… it had slipped my mind.

The links of magic laid upon the figurine told of a spell — a connection that linked the object to someplace not of this world. The little tunnel made of Origin said as much.

Which meant that the Fox (or whoever its creator was) had triggered its change remotely, using the spell embedded in it. Triggered from outside — and intuition told me that there would be a similar trigger on this side as well.

Without stepping into the circle I coalesced a thread of Origin. A simple thread, imbued with no intent and shaped by no framework. Since the circle was keyed to me, I could leave and enter it freely, and by extension, so could my mana. The thread entered the circle unimpeded, and after a few moments, touched the figurine.

I saw the threads inside the figurine shift as the magic inside it responded to the trigger. Surprisingly, it accepted the thread, connecting it to its own structure — and then, the spell began to change again.

The tiny dimensional tunnel widened, and through its aperture a wealth of mana spewed out — Force aspected, for the most of it, and a little bit of Dimension. It quickly formed into the shape of a spell, the instructions transmitted through the figurine — and a few seconds later, a the floating head of a fox hovered before me.

An illusion made of Force, I realized immediately. Sent at a distance, and using Dimension to send information back and forth. A working well beyond my skill, and I wished I could sit and dissect the magic and all its intricacies. If I could figure out how the remote system worked, I could integrate that with my undead—

The fox spoke, and though I was no connoisseur of animal expressions, I detected a hint of a smile in its face. “Julian Crane. A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Startled, I remained silent for a moment. “You are the one known as the Fox, I presume?”

“The very same. Though I would prefer you referred to me by my name. I am called Renaris.”

Renaris — I had seen that name before, and recently. It took but a moment to place it. “One of the old gods.”

The fox head closed its eyes and winced. “Hardly a god, despite what all the new whelps like to claim — but essentially, yes.”

There was… a lot to unpack in that sentence, but I chose to leave it for later. “Why did you contact me? Why now?”

“Technically, you contacted me,” he said with a toothy grin. “Though I did hint that you should do it, I suppose. I had planned on contacting you through one of my agents in the city, but that is no longer an option. And leaving you to… sail blindly in the wind is not tenable. Thus, I must speak to you directly, which presents its own risks, but risks are meant to be taken.”

“What risks? Are we in danger?” I asked, and double-checked the containment wards.

He snorted, which was an odd sound coming from a disembodied fox head. “Nothing of that sort. But the… others… do not approve of my interference. They may seek to disrupt it — and possibly sanction me. Which would be a big blow to your plans.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Which are…?”

He grimaced. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you. Not because I don’t wish you to know, but because I cannot. There are rules and Systems—” he lingered on the ‘s’ and nodded meaningfully as he said the word, “—in place to enforce those rules. Rules on what can be communicated to someone inside your world. They would stop me from talking. Or cut the connection. Or possibly kill us both — the possibilities are endless.”

“And how does that help me? I understand you want something from me — or I figure as part of your plans, somehow. I refuse to be a pawn,” I said, with more heat in my voice than I had realized.

“You’re not a pawn. More of a linchpin.”

“That’s not much of a difference.”

“Does it matter? I can help you achieve your goals, and you can help me achieve mine.”

“I presume that means you know what my goals are—” he nodded, “in which case, you are among the ones I wish to rid the world of. What makes you think we could be allies?”

“The ‘gods’ aren’t a monolithic entity, dear Julian. There are factions — mine has never agreed with summoning the children, but the point was moot in either case. We don’t have majority.”

“The old and the new.”

“Just so.”

“Then, do you also want to remove the new gods?”

“It is not my goal, but I would not be remiss to see them gone. If you help me with my goal, I can help you with yours.”

“You have not yet told me what your goal is.”

“Ah. Yes. That is one of those things I cannot tell.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

He nodded. “I have, however, expected this. There is a solution, a way for you to get this information that can bypass the barrier.”

The copper coin dropped. “The dragons.”

“Indeed. They know the truth — they are…” his face twisted as he tried to find a word, “…strangers.” He grimaced as if having tasted something sour. “That was unpleasant, but that is the closest description I can think of.”

“I see,” I said, a guess already bubbling in my head. “And you are sure they will help me?”

He smiled. “Probably not — not for free, at least. But if you persuade them — their ruler, especially — then they can clear up the mystery.”

I crossed my arms as I thought on his words. “That is a very helpful lead — at a very convenient time. You will understand if I am suspicious.”

“You would likely have found this out by yourself, eventually. At least, you would have had you remained in Alasvir a while longer. I am merely speeding things up.”

“And using me for your own goals.”

“I am,” he said with a nod. “But believe me this: if you want to kill the other gods, there are certain steps you will have to take. And one of those is the key to my own plans. If you are to succeed in your goal, you will inevitably be helping me. It is in my best interest to help you succeed.”

Too vague. A creeping sense of unease flowed through me — I wanted to punish the gods, yes, but the idea that I would inadvertently be helping one of them out was setting off all kinds of alarms. How much of what he had said was a lie? Or even just a misdirection?

Did he want me to remove those gods opposed to him, then? Had he lied about not caring if the new gods died or not?

But he wouldn’t say anything straight — he had hinted at System interference, but was that true in the first place? And why would the dragons be able to bypass it?

Too many questions, and a floating head with more mysteries than answers.

Finally, I closed my eyes and spoke. “You have set a fine trap, here. Whichever road I choose to take, they all lead to the dragons. I have no option but to follow your advice.” Who might as well be his pawns.

“It’s not a trap. It’s a solution.” He shook his head. “You need information. They have information.”

“And if I follow the road to its conclusion, you win.”

“We all win,” he said with a surprising amount of passion. “I cannot speak of specific, but — what I yearn for is freedom. I would set us all free.”

“Pretty words,” I murmured.

“It matters not if you believe. Only if you want to punish the gods or not — and just so you know, they will never stop abducting children. You have an opportunity to stop this.”

“Then why don’t you stop them?” I barked.

He grimaced. “Would that I could. But I cannot. People think of their so-called gods as beings of untold power, but the truth is—” He made a strangled noise and coughed a few times. But even so, I understood what he meant.

They were limited in what they could do — held back by some invisible force. It was obvious in hindsight — after all, why wouldn’t the gods act directly if they were as almighty as the Temples preached?

Because they couldn’t. And as Renaris coughed out a lung before me, a sense of dread overtook me. The gods had been powerful beyond belief, even before they ascended. If they retained that power, and yet were humbled so — who stood above the gods? Who watches the watchers?

Renaris’s words rang inside my head. The freedom he talked about — did he want to break those shackles. Install the gods as true dictators in the world? That would be a disastrous end — would I remain willing to fulfill my goals if it led to something like that?

The fox head waited in silence as I deliberated. At last, I made my decision. “I will go to the dragons.”

In the end, my greatest asset was also my greatest fault. Curiosity. The burning desire to know. There was a mystery here — thousands of years of conspiracy. I had the chance to unravel it, and I would not have been Julian Crane if I let the opportunity slide. For better or worse, there was never any choice for me.

“But,” I continued as the fox head smiled at me. “I will do it on my own terms. I will seek out the knowledge, but if I find that continuing down this path will bring harm to everyone, I will stop.” And I will do my best to foil your plans, whatever they may be. The last part remained unsaid.

“That is all I ask for,” he said in a kindly voice. “You will see for yourself — you will end up helping me of your own free will.”

“Perhaps. But I’m not going to be rushing into any decisions without knowing all the facts.”

Renaris broke into laughter — a very strange sound, coming from a fox. ‘Yip yip yip’, it sounded like. “You would not be Julian Crane if you did not rush headfirst into every problem. I have watched you. Did you not declare war on people who had nothing to do with the one who did you harm?”

If I could have, I would have flushed. He wasn’t wrong — he was entirely right. “People change.”

Renaris nodded. “Aye, that they do. It will be good to see you mature, as late as it may be. You know, for normal people, this would have happened half a century ago. Still, you are a good man, despite your misgivings. You’ll make the right choice when the time comes.”

We’ll see, I wanted to say, but the words remained unspoken. Instead, I merely nodded. The fox head exhaled deeply, and moments later, it dissipated into raw mana.

“Let us hope you are right.”