The ocean was blowing softly, with the waves hitting the sides of the wooden ship. The sun shined softly, even if the air was still cold. The ship’s destination was Alanland, the permafrost land of the north. The vessel carried three people on board, each waiting on the ship’s deck to see the shore again. It had been sailing for one night, and Alanland was closing in. With golden yellow letters, the vessel’s side read ‘Nautilus.’

“What’s with the name?” Norman looked from the side.

“What name?” Orel asked.

“The ship. I have never heard of anything like it.”

“I heard that it's named after a floating sea snail that drifts freely in the ocean current,”

“I see.” Norman was hoping for a better-inspired name. “Do you have any sea serpents in these waters?”

“Not many, but sharks and dire lions are a nuisance,”

Norman smirked a little.

“Well, you need to prepare for those when we go to more uncharted waters.”

Orel turned to Andras, who was at the tip of the ship, looking sharply in their direction.

“Is there something wrong?” Orel went to ask.

“I had a dream about a snowy place last night,” Andras’ eyes were hollow.

“I’ve been having dreams like that too,”

“There was this little bright yellow shine in the snow, playing around. It spoke to me. What was it?” Andras was lost in thought.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“What? Yes. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Alright.” Orel backed off.

Orel returned to Norman, clearly showing a wide grin while watching the approaching horizon.

“Can you see it, Orel?” Norman asked.

“What, the coastline?”

“No, the sky.” Norman pointed.

“What about it? The weather is clear.” Orel looked up.

“Exactly. No clouds or snow.” Norman smiled with an even wider smile.

“...You know that you just jinxed yourself,”

“Don’t say that.” Norman’s smile vanished.

“You were the one that said sure is good that it doesn’t snow when going to Alanland.”

It had started snowing sparsely, dropping slowly and elegantly, finally reaching Norman’s jacket. It was cold enough already that it would not melt, staying as a reminder of the wrong words.

“Don’t say it.” Norman saw the error in his ways.

In a matter of minutes, the beautiful, gentle snowfall turned to wet slush, blowing horizontally straight to Norman’s face.

“You’re right. It doesn’t snow,”

“I’m going to enjoy it once we visit some tropical lands,” Norman said.

“Should I write that down?”

“Don’t bother. Fate does not need memos.” Norman shook off the slush.

Again, the trio arrived in the bay with excitement, mystery, and discomfort. Deras sent them off, and they were free to continue as they desired. Andras was ready to head to the market, but Norman pulled him away. He didn’t want another ruined contest because of Andras’ ridiculous strength. They were walking towards the train station until Norman remembered.

“Oooh, let’s go to eat at that place again!”

“At J.J. Hodgins?” Orel asked.

“I’m hungry,” Andras squeezed his opinion in.

“Yes, yes, it would be a nice memento to go back,” Norman remembered their first meeting.

“Alright, fine.” Orel wanted to eat as well.

They moved through the slightly familiar streets they had two years before. Norman led the group, with Orel following shortly after and keeping Andras in check. The two worried that they would never find Andras if the man became distracted by some flashing lights or swindlers.

“This is it, right here-” Norman turned around a corner.

The place they had visited was still there, or the building was, but the restaurant was different. It had a new style and a new name, one they did not recognize. Norman stopped right in the center of the sidewalk.

“Folkburger?” Norman’s jaw dropped.

“Guess J.J’s went out of business here,” Orel shrugged.

“Can we eat already?” Andras asked.

“But, but-” Norman was disappointed.

“Let’s just go.” Orel pushed him in.

Inside was very familiar. Only the paint and ads were different. The waiters had new clothing, and people ordered the food from wending machine-looking apparatuses. Norman made Orel order the food, as he had never used that machine.

“I’ll take the Folkburger with cheese. What do you want, Norman? No, I won’t order a Joylunch for you.” Orel saw Norman looking at the menu on the wall.

“I’ll take the Twopence,” Norman moped.

“Alright. Andras, you seem hungry, so should I order you the biggest one?”

“Sure.” Andras felt his mouth water already.

“Okay, so one Callussos.” Orel pushed the screen.

The trio’s food arrived surprisingly quickly compared to the last time. Even if Norman was down from the change, he did enjoy his burger. Andras looked at his dish with sparkling eyes and was ready to devour it. The meal did not last long. Andras was only beaten by a mere second by Norman, a feat not worth praising. On the other hand, Orel carefully took bites out of the burger, sometimes tasting the spicy fries and dip.

“So, because we’re here again, I would like to make a toast for our new semi-long term party member Andras.” Norman raised his soda.

“Do we need to do this?” Orel felt ashamed.

“Oh, I am glad to have an adventure with you!” Andras raised his empty mug.

“Come on, Orel,” Norman poked Orel with his elbow.

“Fine.” Orel raised his drink.

“Should we name our group?” Norman asked.

“Why would we need a name?” Orel didn’t see the point.

“How about Voyagers?” Norman proposed.

“Well, not bad, but-”

“Okay,” Andras cut Orel off.

“Voyagers it is,” Norman declared.

“But why would we need a name?” Orel asked.

“You will never know. It is good to have one ready if someone asks.”

“Wait, I just remembered,” Orel said.

“Remembered what?”

“You haven’t asked why I want to find the realms,”

“Wasn’t it about hearing about it as a kid and wanting to see if it was real?” Norman asked.

“Well, that too, but mainly I wanted to write it all down. To prove that someone visited those places.”

“Isn’t there a book about it already?” Norman asked.

“There is no preserved book of one person visiting them all.”

“I see. Do you keep a diary or something?”

“I was thinking of writing once we were done. I’d just gather all of my logs together.”

“It’s going to be a long book,”

“I could write several books.”

“True, depends on how you’d like to write them.”

“There’s also something else.”

“What?”

“Do you think we will run into them?” Orel looked outside.

Norman saw his disciple worried about the two mages, afraid like he was. He knew that they would run into bad people eventually, but he wanted to choose this time. Norman had thought about it for a while and finally concluded.

“No, it won’t be that way anymore. I’m tired of getting chased and threatened by those snobs. That’s why instead of going around the village, we are going to head straight to Savmid!” Norman stated.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Andras asked.

“It is our turn to drive those people out of there. I’m hundred percent sure they are up to something, and it can’t be good.”

“Since when have you been the group leader?” Orel asked.

“I don’t see myself as the group leader, rather a strategist. Don’t you agree with my plan?”

“Well, I don’t like running away, and there’s no other route to go.”

“To Savmid, it is!” Norman lifted his soda cup.

“Do we just make every major decision on a dining table?” Orel shook his head in disappointment.

“Whenever it’s possible.”

Without further delay, the trio had taken the same train back to Savmid. After some hours of sleeping on the train, they arrived back at the station they had gone off before. They were surprised by the number of people getting off but thought it was because they came home for summer vacations. Nothing seemed that much out of the ordinary until Orel took notice of the billboard. There, in the center, was a large colorful poster sticking out from the rest.

“What’s this?” Orel went closer to inspect it.

“Are there some summer events, perhaps?” Norman looked over.

Orel was fascinated that something new would happen, while Norman hoped they had opened a better hotel.

“Welcome hunters, to the return of the Savmid Firefox festival...!” Orel read the title.

Norman was surprised, while Andras didn’t know what was going on.

“These people brought that hunting festival back?” Norman didn’t believe what he had read.

“Here it reads. Let’s see. It’s in three days?” He read further.

“I thought the foxes were under preservation.” Norman felt something off.

“And here! They mention only one fox, and the winner takes 50% of the collected participation money for hunting it down. The time limit is to the break of dawn.”

“I think I saw a similar poster at the main train station when you were ordering tickets.” Andras took a look at the poster.

“Why didn’t you mention it?” Norman asked.

“I thought it was nothing special.” Andras shrugged.

“Are all these people then coming here for that reason?” Norman looked around at the people with their extensive luggage.

“Could be.” Andras saw some carrying weapon bags.

“I have a feeling they’re going to be there,” Norman felt a bad feeling up his spine.

“Then let’s go.” Orel started walking.

“Are you going to enter the competition?” Norman asked.

“We’ll make sure no one catches that fox.” Orel was determined.

“I can agree to that.” Norman smiled.

“Hmmm, I bet I’m going to have a rad time there.” Andras smiled menacingly.

“What’s with the grin?” Orel asked. “No, what’s with your speech?” He corrected himself.

“Oh, I only feel pumped up, as you say kids say these days, yo,”

“Where did you learn that?” Orel cringed.

“I popped out an urban dictionary.”

“Andras, it’s good to learn modern lingo, but that’s still a bit outdated,” Norman said.

“At least I gave it a shot, dog.” Andras sighed.

“Please stop,” Orel pleaded.

“Alright, for now.” Andras lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

Both Orel and Norman wanted to ask about it from someone familiar. They decided to head for the same hotel they had stayed, this time for more reasons than to save money. Once they ran in, the old owner quickly recognized at least two people walking in.

“Would you know, these are some familiar faces!” The owner cheered.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Orel smiled.

“Hey, there, pops! We came to stay for a few nights here.” Norman greeted the man.

“I see! Hmmm, yes, there are still some vacant rooms. Many people have come here the past few days.” The man went through his keys.

“And we’ll gladly take the same discount.” Norman rubbed his fingers together.

“Don’t push your luck! But let’s see, we have one three-person room. Is that good for you and...” The man looked over to the tall man standing behind Norman and Orel.

“Ah, this man here is Andras,” Norman said.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Andras greeted the man.

“I see you have made a new friend. Sigh, wait for a moment.” The man sat down.

“It’s been hectic preparing these rooms. Are you here for the festival too?” The man gasped.

“Sort of,” Orel said.

“I wouldn’t recommend it. I like tourism, but I disagree with making traditions into a sport. It was so weird to hear that they would hold it again with sponsors and some hunting groups. It’s all so silly. Even my son is there, trying to make a quick buck like everyone else, hunting for those golden foxes,” The man looked at his hands.

“It’s an ill sport. That’s why we decided to sabotage it.” Norman said.

“Huh? Really?” The man felt hopeful.

“You can count on us,” Orel assured.

“I can’t cheer for terrorists, but I can give a discount for special guests.” The man suggested.

“How about for free?” Norman asked.

“Don’t push your luck!” The man repeated.

“Kidding! We’ll take the offer.”

They checked in again, barged into their room, and lay on the beds. Andras had gotten the transforming sofa bed, which was far too short for him to fit. Norman went straight to sleeping on the bed, while Orel wanted to take off his shoes first.

“Wait, I just realized.” Norman opened his eyes.

“What?” Orel was putting his shoes off and tying the strings together.

“Andras sleep here too.”

“So?”

“In the same room.” Norman specified.

Orel understood what Norman was trying to say. The implications were dire, as was the need for earplugs.

“Are those a pair of ear mufflers?” Orel looked over to the workbench on the other side of the room.

“Seems so.” Norman turned his head.

Norman had begun sprinting when Orel still stumbled on the bed. Norman ran as fast as he could but suddenly fell. He looked down at his feet and saw what had happened. Orel had thrown his shoes at him like a bolas, which snared him to a complete stop.

“That’s cheating, Orel!” Norman hit the floor.

“You were going to cast some spell to win!” Orel took the mufflers.

“Alright, how about we do this fairly?” Norman asked.

“...Okay. But how?” Orel felt just a bit bad for using dirty tricks.

“The old fashion way,” Norman said.

“Rock paper scissors?”

“No, a coin flip.” Norman took a coin out of his pocket.

“Fair enough.”

Norman put the coin over his thumb, ready to throw.

“Ready?”

“Wait, let me see the coin.”

“How trusting, very well.” Norman flicked the coin to Orel.

Orel took a moment to test if the coin was just a regular coin. He checked that each side was there, the currency didn’t feel weird, and there were no hidden mechanisms.

“Can I have it back now?” Norman was growing impatient.

“Alright.” Orel tossed it over.

Orel wanted to be sure, so he changed the coin while inspecting it when Norman wasn’t looking. Even if the coin was tampered with, it now rested inside Orel’s back pocket.

“Okay, here it goes!” Norman flicked the coin.

The coin spun wildly in the air until Norman gripped it to his palm and slammed it against his wrist. Neither could see which side landed on top, making it a fair game so far.

“Alright, you can choose first,” Norman felt generous.

“Tails.”

“Then I’ll choose heads,” Norman lifted his arm.

The coin revealed itself, laying there with the unmistakable face of heads.

“Heads, I win!” Norman celebrated.

“Not so fast!” Orel took the coin.

Holding the coin in his fingers, Orel saw the truth of the game.

“I knew it! You changed it to a one-faced coin!” Orel zoomed the coin to Norman’s face.

While not entirely correct, Orel was right that Norman had tampered with it. Norman used magic to change the face to whichever he would choose once he covered it with his hand. It was not a spell but a cantrip that changed some properties of objects.

“As you would expect from my student! Keen observation is important for a mage!” Norman tried to blind Orel with praises.

“Stop screwing around and give me those ear mufflers! You lost!”

“Shut up, you two, or I’ll burn those up!” Andras warned.

“Sigh, it seems we need to share them,” Orel gave up.

“How about we play rock paper scissors for who can wear them on the first night?” Norman asked.

“No.”

After a few nights, they walked to the festival, primarily located next to a forest and a road filled with various stalls, activities, and, most importantly, the main event’s starting line next to the forest. The road was closed for the time being, making it easy to walk around the location. It had attracted many visitors, from tourists wanting to see the event to those willing to participate. The trio headed to the registration booth, where they had to pay the hefty entrance fee, sign a contract of acknowledgment of the dangers, and get vests with their contestant number, which the team shared. After signing and getting their phones confiscated, the security guards guided Orel, Norman, and Andras to the waiting area, where they waited for approximately an hour and a half. It was nothing too fancy, just a space surrounded by security tape on the side of the forest, slightly away from the public view, with some benches for comfort if standing on gravel was not their thing. While waiting, the security team made sure no one left the area. While waiting, Orel and Norman had time to take notes of their competition. Many were expert hunters, some were rich doing it for fun, and many were after the money with no practice whatsoever. Their weapons ranged from rifles to hunting dogs and traps to only their bare hands.

Norman and Orel looked around getting the same conclusion.

“Those two, they’re not here.”

“No, if they’re not competing, they must at least be hunting it too,” Norman suspected.

“Yeah, I think they talked about saving money last time, so they probably won’t be paying to enter.”

“I feel that, but I wonder how they are getting by without any income.” Norman felt something missing.

The day had turned to the evening at around six o’clock when the announcer opened his microphone. The time was up, and the security guards escorted the competitors to the starting line. A massive crowd of people cheered from a distance as the selected group of competitors stood ready, looking straight into the woods.

“Welcome, everyone! We are glad to present to you the return of the firefox Festival! It is lovely weather here at Savmid yet again, and I am glad that I, Markus Rank, have been selected to be the voice of this event! For this year, we have gotten a fairly large group of 253 competitors who are now racing for the goal of getting the firefox and returning it to the starting point for the grand prize. We have just calculated it! 15 000 Eer! That’s a lot of money for one person or group! We will be watching the event through cameras around the forest and an aerial view from our hot air balloon where I am sitting right now! We must thank our sponsors for making this happen! They are the Alanland National Hunter Association, ANHA, and most importantly, our private sponsor who worked years for this event to be re-established, Daniel Medrawd!”

The contestant looked high above where a colorful balloon soared with the loud and excited presenter.

“Now that the competitors are ready, let’s go down the rules once more: There will be no tolerance for foul play, which we will be monitoring from our cameras and security in the forest. The time limit is set for six AM, where if no one catches the fox, all of the prize money is given to organizers and charity. Only designated teams formed at the participation booth are applicable to share their prize money, and the maximum size is four. No use of GPS, phones, or outside help is allowed. Leaving the area, meaning the ten square kilometer Shynkforest, is considered abandonment, so you must be prepared for a long hunt or go home. The use of tools that cause severe destruction to either the environment or other competitors is banned. Competitors who break these rules are to be escorted out of the area by staff present, and we will dispatch emergency services. If the event is to be compromised by any means, We will cancel the competition. The money goes to both organizers and covers the fees of those hurt during the incident. That is all.”

“We have an interesting line of contestants this year! We have our country’s team ANHA, each a professional hunter! Competing as he did years before, we got Jordan the barehanded! The local celebrity, mister John Fadei is here to try the challenge! Foreign competitors include the Monzak tribal hunters from Zabad, the Jackal, and the Voyagers! And those are only a few that I picked up from the list! The crowd is cheering for their favorite teams! I will launch this flare to signal that you can start without further delay! Ready, set, go!” The announcer hanger over the edge of the hot air balloon.

The red flash of light illuminated the forest before the competitors, and all sprinted to the wilderness of Shynkforest. The dark green-colored nature was filled with old spruce and oak trees, nettles on the ground beneath them, and uneven terrain filled with steep edges, hills, and low sand pits. Not just grass but saplings all over and sprouting roots made going through it a great deed of its own. Somewhat unnatural at first, the ground had very little snow because the trees blocked most of the snow and absorbed sunlight, making the forests much greener than their surroundings. Norman, Orel, and Andras were not the first in line to enter, but that was not their plan. Once they looked around, Norman pointed to a hill not far from they stood.

“There, I bet we’ll get a good look from over there before it gets too dark,”

They climbed to the top with great vigor and saw many lights going around the forest below. It was pretty cold but much warmer than the spring season, making it easier not to freeze to death. Much of the view was a forest for a very long time before roads, and the city would shine in the distance.

“What should we do now?” Orel asked.

Norman looked over at the lights.

“Let’s wait for a little,” Norman sat on a fallen tree.

Thus they waited, with Norman closely looking at the lights going around and listening to the sounds. It was surprisingly quiet, even as over two hundred men were hunting for a single fox.

“What does the fox look like?” Andras asked.

“I searched info from the web that it shines brightly during nighttime, but it is impossible to tell from a normal fox during the day. It is generally believed that obtaining it guarantees success in life. As the innkeeper said, people usually want to get the skin and keep it as a lucky charm. The northern lights and wish-granting were part of an older legend, while the pelt is modern.” Orel said.

“Then, why would anyone hand it over?”

“I guess some trust more in the money, and they don’t need to keep it, only catch it,” Norman opened his thermos and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He took a sip and sighed deeply. “It’s going to be a long night.”

There was more to the competition than any contestants could ever know, and they were not the only ones hunting there. The night was young, filled with lights roaming the forest and a silent gust of wind traveling between the trees, but that would not be for too long. Even if you happen to find a light in that darkness, you must beware, as anyone can hold a lantern. As one might say, the shadows are at their strongest during the last hours of dusk, and after that, their dark presence consumes all.