Orel had made good progress after avoiding the lights and people. He had gotten close to the expanse, where he could spot an old log cabin in the middle. It was not in the prettiest condition, but Orel did spot a small trail of smoke rising from the chimney. He took cover by the threes as the lights monitored, sometimes very close, almost to the point of passing him directly. Orel was sure that the person controlling the lights was inside that building; he only had to get inside. Orel thought of many ways to get inside, waiting for the right moment. Making sure not to leave a single loud step, Orel approached the door. On his way, he stopped, not that he heard more than the rustling of the pine needles against each other, but something sinister around the premise. Even after making sure no one was around, steps behind him proved that Orel had made a mistake. He turned around and saw a large man with his red hunting jacket, jeans, and no weapon whatsoever. Orel was close to the door but not close enough to escape inside.

“You’re...” Orel recognized the figure.

“Yep, I’m Jordan, the barehanded. You were trying to be very sneaky getting here. So, what’s in the cabin? Your friends, or perhaps the fox?” Jordan grinned menacingly.

Orel winced with his steps as the man stepped forward. His face was scarred, not by horrific marks but by the expression. The eyes of someone that had seen things, perhaps the consequences of his actions. An effect of insanity. No amount of reason would stop his giant fists, nor did Orel have the strength or will to fight back.

“Hey, now. You’re quite fast, but don’t think that you’re getting away from me. This thing is all too suspicious, but I need that money.” Jordan snapped the fingers of his large hands.

Orel was too terrified by the large man to say anything. He could only cringe away from him as the man stepped forward. Desperately crawling away, he could not escape.

The man suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Did you hear something?” Jordan looked around frantically.

Orel stood up to open the door while the man was distracted. Turning to open it, he was lifted and thrown to the ground. Jordan lifted Orel by the collar of his jacket, seemingly with little effort.

“Don’t try any tricks on me. I’ve crushed a golf ball with these hands.”

Flashes of lights behind Jordan blinded Orel for a moment like a morning sun. Jordan noticed the light on the wall and turned to see if someone had come to rescue the boy.

“What the?!” Jordan was in disbelief at the flying lights.

They swirled around Jordan. Terrified, he tried to grab them, but to no further extent than creating a lot of noise with his yelling. The light show was both beautiful and dreadful. Orel said nothing as he remembered what their presence meant.

“What are these things?” Jordan grew a vein on his forehead.

The lights backed off, leaving the man only dimly surrounded by shades.

“Come and get me!” Jordan roared.

A second later, it was as if nothingness had quietly answered him. A curved blade, a dark shade-born knife formed, grasped by a bony hand with equal dark color, emerging from the shadows below. The gloom-shaded cloth covering the mysterious figure floated carefully in the wind. The ragged cloth shaped the triangular head with a hood. In silence, the blade was carried to the man’s heart with the swiftest of movements, with no moment spared before slicing the throat. Jordan fell as quickly as the shadow appeared. Orel looked in terror as the shadow waited around. Its head twitched, spastically changing directions. Suddenly, the head glanced at Orel. He felt the abyss looking back silently. The head slowly returned to a static state, and the figure started gently walking towards the door like an unholy apparition. The steps it made were light, almost inaudible, leaving no footprints behind. Approaching steadily, with hands waving almost as if boneless, Orel could hardly hold his breath. He noticed how the shadow carefully kept its steps inside the shadow that the lights shone towards the house. It seemed that it either did not want to get out of the shadow or couldn’t. The light behind it stayed still as well, almost as if they were working together with unreal efficiency.

Orel needed to get out of the situation and got the idea to use the trick he had learned. He reached his pocket but could not find what he was looking for. Before he knew it, the shadow was standing right before him. Orel could not do anything; there was no time. He tried to stand still as if the shadow would go away. It leaned towards Orel, right near his face. He saw the matt black surface of the head, a diamond-shaped mask that, even without eyeholes, was watching. As it was about to stare Orel right in the eyes, the shadow was pierced in the chest by a giant hand. The shadow fell on the ground before dissipating silently. Barely conscious, Jordan had gotten up, only to fall into a pool of his blood. The last drops of blood had gone, and the man was dead, lying still on the ground.

Orel could not be more shocked by the situation but managed to open the door silently as he fell backward inside the house. Crawling on the floor, Orel decided to search the house to keep his mind off what he had just witnessed. He heard noises from the next room before stepping too much to the living room area, which was barren except for a couple of heavily damaged chairs and a fireplace with cinders burning silently. A door on the other side of the room was slightly left ajar so that a tiny peek of candlelight managed to escape. After getting closer, Orel distinguished two sounds: a man talking by himself and some instrument playing a drumming beat. Heavy on his accent and informal speaking, the voice was recognizable.

“Yeah, all’s good. The guy’s dead, I think. What, check? Dan, you know I hate bodies. No, killing’s different. The bodies are gross. Besides, I can’t. I need to keep the drum beating. No, I can’t just move it. The bones will fall off.”

It was the lean fellow that was with Daniel.

“Shut up, Fynn. I do not have time to argue. I need to be on stage. While still at it, did you check spot D14 as I asked for the unknown person?” Daniel’s patience was running out.

“Uhh, about that. The guy just completely recked my shamaks, and I couldn’t even tell what happened. I think I heard lighting. What is a guy like that doing here? It will take some time before a new batch reaches there.” Fynn looked at the coordinated map.

“Wait. I see a new figure coming out. Hmmm, he seems to be the new guy those two brought with them. He seems to be challenging the other one.” Daniel saw Andras walking towards Isao.

“Can’t you see them on the cameras?” Fynn asked.

“They are still being fixed. You focus on keeping yourself safe and everyone else away from my flares. I’ll set them to roam the area again. Call me in fifteen minutes for possible updates, and I’ll inform you when I have spotted the fox.” Daniel returned to the stage.

“Alright.” Fynn ended the call.

“Damn, I wish I could use my Twintendo Swapper here, but it ran out of batteries. Guess I’ll need to focus on the spell anyways.” Fynn returned to meditation.

Orel looked from the doorway and saw the man in the same dark uniform as Daniel, meditating before a low drum with small bones hopping on the sheeting. His hair dropped loose, hanging over his forehead as he leaned towards the drum in dim candlelight that cast shadows over his bony face like seeing a shaman performing a ritual. It was an eerie sight to behold, and frankly, Orel had no idea what to do. The revelation had ruined their plan. The mage Orel was looking for wasn’t where they thought he would be.

Orel’s planning was the beeping of his radio. It was the sound of Norman trying to call him, but Orel was terrified of how loud it was. He looked at the man, but he was still unmoving, perhaps in deep meditation. Quietly stepping out of the cabin, Orel took out his radio.

“Orel, I needed to check on you. Andras ran into some trouble, but how are things on your end?”

“They killed a man,” Orel whispered.

“What? Explain.”

“The guy in the cabin is not the one controlling the lights. He controls shadow people. They killed a hunter that followed me.”

“They completely fooled me. I was sure that he would need to be concentrating on the lights, but there must be a catch to it so that he can seemingly act naturally while keeping the spell active. I presume the guy in the cabin needs to stay there?” Norman asked.

“Yeah, he has a drum that he seems to play with magic,”

“Alright. I got it. Orel, I know you may be shocked by what happened, but don’t let it get to you. You didn’t know, and it must have happened too quickly. I need you to stay calm and dispatch that guy so that he can’t hurt anyone, alright?”

“Uhhuh.” Orel nodded.

“Good. I need to check on Andras, but I’ll call back, okay? The drum seems to be an essential magic item concerning the spell from what I heard from you. Just steal the drum or something and get out of there.”

“Be careful, Norman. Those things form from shadows and work together with the lights.”

“Got it, but I think I’ll manage. I need to get going now.” Norman ended the call.

Orel turned back to the cabin, unsure if he dared to steal the drum. He grasped the door and opened it. Just as he saw his shadow form by something shining behind him, Orel gasped. He barged in and closed the door as fast as he could. Orel could feel a thumb on the door as a tiny point pierced the wood. He heard a burst of sadistic laughter from the room.

“Hehehe, almost got you there! Did you really think that I wouldn’t notice? My hearing’s top-notch. I just wanted you to get out of the house, but now you’re back, not that you are any luckier here. Brother’s flicker flares can still create shadows from the outside. Sorry kid, but I have to slice you into bits.”

The room regained its silence. Orel realized that the window frames stretched into shadows, covering almost the entire living room area. The problem was that there was no way to get to the room without going past the shade. Orel did not know precisely the limitations of the spell but knew he shouldn’t get too close.

He planned to run to the room but thought that the shadows could be too fast for him to succeed. When thinking, Orel spotted a mouse going around the floor, getting closer to the shade. Scampering right next to it, the mouse squeaked. The rodent was calm, possibly because it enjoyed the warm light. It was sliced in two before it could squeak again by a knife appearing in a dark hand, stretching from the narrow shadow. Like a sea serpent that erupted from the surface of the water, the hand slowly descended back under the flat shadow-covered surface. Orel was confused why it would attack a mouse.

The possibility of it only sensing sounds came to him. He would only need to make a loud enough noise to distract it. Orel searched his pockets again, this time with enough time. He found some coins. It was not much, but just perfect for the situation. It was the ideal chance to use the skill he had learned. Norman taught the trick of launching a coin between your thumb and middle finger as an easy semi-range attack. Anyone can do it, as you only need to put any size coin halfway between the two fingers and snap them. It will shoot the coin opposite of your thumb with centrifugal force, with the damage bending on the size of the coin. Use the middle of your forearm for aiming, though don’t depend on precise accuracy. Memories of Norman presenting his skill by shooting empty cans from an impressive distance came to Orel’s mind. The trick of how to turn it from a party trick to an actual attack lies in that you need to use some magic, not just your fingers but to coat the coin itself for maximum range, though the damage never exceeds a rubber bullet.

Orel grasped the coin horizontally between his fingers so that the top of his hand faced himself and fired the cash with a snapping motion. Even if not wholly hitting where he aimed, the currency managed to shatter the glass by smashing the window still and making a loud noise on the other side of the room.

“Running away, eh? That won’t work-”

The coin bounced from the window and rolled on the floor—the ringing of the coin echoed through the house. It only stopped after it had fallen still.

“Playing tricks to my hearing? Fine then. If I heard your pocket change shuffling around well enough, I would say you have around three coins left. Take one step on a creaking board, and I’ll dice you to high heavens!”

Orel reloaded, so to speak, knowing he only had one to spare. A different sound rang this time. Fynn could hear only a tiny thump. Fynn recognized it as the sound of seat cushions being hit.

“Heheheheh, you hit the chair? Nice shot, mate. I hope it was your last coin.”

Orel held his last coin with wavering courage. If he were to miss, there would not be anything he could fling. He clenched it hard before aiming for the final time.

Orel began preparing for his final attempt by looking straight at his hand. He did not know what to do after it, only that this would create enough chaos and sound.

Orel sent off the last coin with an extra amount of magic to make sure it would work.

Even Fynn did not hear where it hit. The room was silent until an ominous sound started to become louder slowly. The quiet embers of the fireplace became only slightly louder.

“What is that sound? The fireplace, did you add wood to it?” Fynn heard flames.

The sound of roaring flames became louder, piquing Fynn’s interest. He sensed that the positions of shadows inside the house had moved drastically, having almost disappeared entirely. Smoke began to leak into the room, and the temperature soared.

“No, you did not.” Fynn peeked through the door.

“You flung a piece of firewood onto the carpet?!” Flynn saw the inferno in the living room.

“You little piece of shit! Now you’ve done it! Alright, we both are a little crazy. Let’s see who wins. I got the rest of my shamaks ready outside, waiting for you. Are you going to burn down with me here, huh? Are you that crazy, boy?”

It was a tricky question for Orel to answer. Only if he had another coin could he try something dangerous. He thought hard and squeezed his fists. What else to use than a coin? Something similar, a round shade, equal weight, rigid, perhaps metal, the correct size. Only a coin remained in his head. The ridged rim, the round flat shape, the small weight, the silver look, the imprint, those were what he was seeking.

Orel snapped, not as insane but surprised. He felt something in his hand, a familiar feeling. He opened it and saw in the palm of his hand a coin. Of course, a moment ago, there was nothing there. He rubbed his eyes as if he could just be hallucinating from the smoke.

“What’s this?”

After taking a closer look, it was not a regular coin. The imprint was all wrong, yet the shape remained similar. Orel could use it, and that is all that mattered.

“Aren’t you going to escape? The flames will reach you before me. You don’t even have any coins left,”

“I don’t need to escape,” Orel said.

Orel kicked the door open and looked at Norman with a thrilling smile. He surprised the slim mage sitting in candlelight entirely beyond belief.

“Wha-!” Fynn’s jaw dropped.

After being harshly trained daily with shooting, Orel had no problem hitting the drum at that distance. The coin spun in the air. Fynn had no time to react as it hit his drum, ripping a large hole in the membrane. The bones rattled as they dropped to the floor, and his shadows disappeared. Fynn stood in shock, with his messy hair flinging around over his horrified expression.

“No, no, no, no, no, no...” Fynn whispered.

Orel saw the defeated man. The once boastful Fynn had been reduced to a mumbling ball of stress.

“What will I do now...”

Before Fynn knew it, Orel had already taken off and run out of the building. With his broken drum and mobile game console out of batteries, Fynn sat inside the burning cottage with his feelings in turmoil. Sadness, rage, fear, disappointment. Yet he did nothing. He should still save himself, as Orel decided to leave the front door open. However much he feared the man, he could not let him die.

Orel had been able to cover some distance from the cabin as he saw a pillar of flames. He instinctively knew that Andras caused it. Orel did not want to wait around, so he started running in that direction. It was quite a far away, but as long as he would run in a straight line, it shouldn’t take too long.

In the middle of the aftermath, Isao got up after losing consciousness for a moment. Isao looked around the burning field and spotted a red splatter leaning on a tree, which after gaining his sight, he recognized as Andras. Andras was not in great shape, most notably with his right arm violently torn off. What most surprised Isao was not that only his arm had blown off but that he was still alive, though only barely. Andras was seemingly a living corpse, someone hanging on a thin line between life and death.

Andras began to wake as Isao was preparing to leave. A searing pain ran through his body, radiating from his missing hand. He could not move an inch of his body besides his jaw.

Coughing some blood out, Andras was able to keep talking.

“Come on. Finish me.”

“A man that does not know himself can never reach the truth. Uncover your past, and I will grant your final wish. Only then can you atone for what you have done.” Isao turned away.

“God damn it.” Andras coughed.

Norman finally came to help. Seeing the situation, he was horrified. Isao was not too far away to be spotted, but Norman decided to ignore him now and concentrate on tending Andras’ wounds.

“What happened?” Norman looked at Andras’ body.

“Sorry. I went all out.”

“I told you not to. Look at yourself. Why aren’t you healing?” Norman looked at the bleeding stump of Andras.

“Got no magic left. Need to get sunlight...”

“You will die from blood loss before sunrise if we don’t close that wound.” Norman ripped a part of Andras’s suit to tighten around the arm.

Just as he was finishing the knot, Norman heard his radio beeping. He answered as fast as he could. He was nervous if anything had gone wrong with Orel as well.

“Orel?”

“Norman, are you with Andras? What the hell happened there?” Orel asked while running.

“We ran into a little bit of trouble. Andras has been out of commission for a while, but we’re relatively fine. How did things work out there?”

“Oh, I destroyed the drum and set the cabin on fire. I’m going over there now.”

“How similar. Say, did you get any info from there?” Norman asked.

“I think they haven’t found the fox yet, but other than that, I have no idea.”

“I think we need to get out of here. I suspect that there will be some massive consequences once the other mage hears about what has happened.”

“If you seek the shining fox, it’s over in that direction behind those hills.” Isao pointed in a direction he described.

“Wait, what?” Norman was dumbfounded.

“I believe that you have no ill intentions. Be vary that it is very shy. I had no business with it, so the beast remained there,” Isao walked off.

“I have no words.” Norman froze.

“What was that?” Orel asked.

“Umm, how much have you run already?” Norman asked.

“Halfway there, probably. Why?”

“We got information where the fox is. Go northwest. I’ll try to get Andras moving and meet with us there.”

“What? Um, alright, let’s meet there.” Orel turned.

Someone not enjoying the spotlight had gone backstage again after being asked about the cameras. Daniel called his companion again, expecting some good news.

“Fynn, how are things on your end? Why do I see flames in the cabin?” Daniel looked through his spheres.

“Ummm, the boy that was here. He kind of set it on fire, broke my drum, and went off. My poor drum...”

“Shut up about the drum. You can always get a new one.”

“But it was my favorite.” Fynn held the pieces.

“All is going haywire. Those people have ruined everything.”

“Well, they haven’t found the fox yet, but I can’t survey them anymore.”

“Right. I am coming there. I’ll settle this.”

“What should I do?” Fynn asked.

“Grow a pair and do something.”

“I can’t do anything without the drum...”

“Try and figure something out.”

“It is such a waste with me...”

“Stop spouting that crap. Your spell is way better than mine. I could never hope to achieve something similar. It has so much potential that you just need to grasp.”

“Easy for you to say with your talent.”

“We are brothers, Fynn. Who raised us? The same mother and father. We both got bad blood inside us. I believe in you more than you do yourself. It is your effort that counts. I am not going to buy you a drum anymore, so you better get it together.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Fynn said.

“Try.” Daniel cut off the phone.

Without saying a word, he left the private tent that had just been erected for him. Taking his jacket, Daniel took off.

“Where are you going, mister Medrawd?” One of the staff saw him getting away.

“Do not worry. I want to take a small stroll. I will be back soon.” Daniel waved them off.

Once out of sight, Daniel released a dozen balls of light from around him, searching the area as he advanced.

“Flicker flare,”

They are his eyes, weapons, and support. Some were tasked to stick around him while he sent the rest to inspect in advance. Some were assigned to stick around him while he sent the rest to check in advance. One could call them minions or lesser familiars, with the only difference between such terms that the lights bear no mind of their own, only acting out the commands uttered.

As he walked through the forest, Daniel was found by the ANHA team, who were not that welcome upon seeing him. While there was room to ask what was on their mind, Daniel had no time or interest to do so.

“What is the meaning of this, mister Medrawd? What’s happening?” One of the hunters asked.

“That is sir Medrawd to you.”

“Oh, that’s it. I never liked you once you showed up, promising this and that. I better beat some sense into your Albion butt.” The hunter tried to grab him.

“Flashbang.” Daniel directed one of his orbs to the group.

A dangerously bright flash made the hunters scream in agony as their eyes went blind. Daniel bore no mind to the suffering. They graveled on the ground, yelling slurs at him.

“I am sick and tired of these simple Northern folk.” Daniel continued forward.

A new danger was approaching, a man as dedicated as the trio. The search for the fox was reaching its final moments. A shiny golden glimpse shone from the dark depths of the forest. The race was on, and only one could claim victory.