Chapter 33

"Discretion"

I tipped the scales of balance.

Only later would I realize how hard they would come swinging back.

The two Doom Seers were waiting when I woke up. They looked at me with caution and curiosity, having no real understanding of my travels within their minds. The foxes likely told them who I was and what they had to do already. Their mental connections probably created a nearly instantaneous informational exchange, although I doubted the foxes shared equal enlightenment. Living with another in your head sounded like a nightmare, but the Doom Seers did not seem phased by it. If they were still capable of thinking at all. It saved time explaining things regardless. Trusting one another wasn't so easily accomplished. I watched the hounds, how they walked and moved and held themselves. They were inexperienced and clumsy. Practically pups in their mature bodies.

And the foxes expected me to go to war with them?

The tricksters. They knew exactly who I was. They expected me to watch over these hounds and teach them how to be proper Hena. This way, they might become more effective puppets in the future. The foxes knew I would not be able to resist such a task. I would have cursed those foxes myself, but I already decided to let the hounds live in the dream world which meant I would not let them die in this one if I could help it. I no longer cared what the wild was meant to be, so I took a little time to teach my new charges and test their fire and roam the depth of their darkness.

It was not nearly enough on all accounts.

Their illusions were their strongest techniques. No doubt influenced by the foxes' manipulations. I felt their presence when the Doom Seers spoke and looked and acted. I was surprised the enemy did not figure it out yet. Then again, such tricks were common, if not expected, not only of Seers, but of all darkened creatures. They never relied on truth, so they never expected to see it even when it was right in front of them. Every creature had a hidden agenda and if the foxes and hounds lasted this long, puppet and puppeteer were in unsuspecting alignment.

If the Seers had been just themselves, they might have already been disposed of since they would be useless in battle. Hiding in plain sight was a clever trick which made me all the more wary of the foxes' influence. Especially when the Seer's demonstrated that they could conceal my presence from the Dark Crows perched in the trees along the path to the altar when they stood on either side of me. Even in the daylight which we now traveled, the crows watched with judgmental, but oblivious observation.

"They will not suspect you?" I whispered, matching the hounds' Spirit and step.

If there was even the smallest chance we would be discovered, our method of boldly walking through the front gate would need to be reconsidered.

"They expect nothing," the hound on the left whispered back between steps. "Many Crowned Hounds have come and gone to bear witness to this historic event. Other creatures too. Some we escort. Others, we don't. With the full moon tonight, there is much activity."

Much preparation for the challenger's strike more like it. I too was preparing. This trip to the altar in the day was to eliminate the threats lying in wait under the sun so that they could not reinforce those of the night during the ritual or afterwards. If I made it so far. The night was where the true terror lay. This would help me gauge its power.

"How many creatures?" I picked up.

That was one thing these Gate Keepers should know.

The hounds glanced at one another.

"Many," they guessed.

Utterly useless.

"What types?" I tried again.

"Friends." "Foes." They suddenly exchanged and I knew the foxes were taunting me again.

They refused to make things clear even when their own territory was at stake. I suppose it was in their nature. One did not live a thousand years to foster the boredom of a predictable plot. Maybe they planned to outlive the enemy no matter the outcome. They might have an escape route within their so called prison, but they were too lazy to use it just yet. They went this long without acting. I doubt they would have a sudden change of heart on my account. So I returned to silence as we approached the moon altar. It was of great importance I do so, for when the stone pillars came into view, bats and birds were no longer the ones we had to worry about.

A bipedal creature sat cross-legged in the middle of the altar. He was brown and yellow in color with an abnormally thick tail, long whiskers on his face, and pink markings on his forehead and abdomen. With three clawed fingers, he clutched some sort of tool in his hands. The altar itself was made of stone blocks fashioned to create a flat circle. Tall pillars of matching stone stood heavily around the rim in even intervals. The structure was of a much smaller scale than that of the riverlands where there was more space.

Where the river temple was a great monument, the altar was a stage. The mountain top was flatter than I imagined it to be. The stone and rock and dirt that would have brought the mountain to a much steeper point had been pushed to the outer edges to increase the surface area. This created a ring of flat land around the altar. The edges eventually slopped back into proper form. The leveled clearing would have made a spectacular scene of the night sky had the trees not grown up around it. The ground had been left to the wild and the trees reclaimed the earth. They surrounded the altar like a wall. I was surprised the ghosts did not rip them away. Then again, they needed privacy if they wanted to remain unnoticed and undisturbed.

The stone altar was still big enough to catch the moon's light at night when it rose to just the right angle. The columns were specifically placed in alignment with a certain type of celestial activity, of which, I knew not. This was a strange place landscaped by ancient claws and paws and hands, made stranger still from the fact that there was no physical altar at all. The stone within the ring of pillars was void of any decoration, symbol, or statue. Even snow. The space was empty aside from the creature that sat in the center, muttering to itself as if it were talking to another. A strange rock floated above him. Given the way it seemed to elevate itself of its own accord, it was probably no rock at all but a creature. One that was alien and strange and shaped like a crescent moon, but was brown instead of white.

I did not know these creatures, this Magician casting spells and this Lunar Stone displaced on earth, so I had the hounds stop on the periphery of the altar. From what I could tell, these creatures did not smell of fire nor buzz with the sting of electricity. They did not collect sunlight or glisten with ice. Nothing about them hummed or rustled or radiated. They did not emit light or play with shadow. This narrowed down the potential range of attacks and energies they might have. I would have preferred much more obvious threats. I could not assume too much from the Lunar Stone despite its texture and shape. There were many creatures who learned to mimic others in order to survive.

Regardless of their abilities, the Magician was concentrating on something which meant it had a purpose being here, doing whatever it was, where it was, with the Lunar Stone. I do not know why, but I hated that rock. I did not want to look at it or touch it or be near it. The fact that it resembled my precious moon insulted and infuriated me. Which meant it was not of the Spirit. Both of them must go.

"Break away," I quietly told the hounds. "Hide this place. Make it so none are disturbed by what happens next."

The Doom Seers turned their heads away in silent smiles as if my orders were a joke.

More tests.

"You will not contain me if you do not use everything."

The look in their eyes changed then. They flashed with color. Red and blue. The foxes were at attention. They would head my warning because all of their entertainment up until this point would end if I were discovered. Masking the enemies' sight. Changing the sounds they perceived. Manipulating the senses in extraordinary fashion. The chance for them to prove themselves better. It was a trick worthy of the challenge. The hounds dashed away to fulfill their purpose. When they were gone, I carefully shadow stepped around the altar and turned my sight to the Spirit to take a closer look at the battlefield I was about to enter.

The altar was indeed the source of the curses I felt. They were so densely spaced in the center that they distorted reality into a gravitational sphere that grew even more compact at its center. The sun tried to burn the curses away but the daylight was swallowed within it. The black hole was too strong. It would only expand as the daylight waned and night fell. By the time twilight was over, the hole would grow to the size of a portal. The pressure would become so great, it would crack and split and tear open the planes between worlds.

The legion of ghost was waiting on the other side. They rested now in full light, but soon, they would start pushing and clawing to get through. The Magician must be controlling the boundary somehow, manipulating and maintaining it in the daytime. He must be the new Gate Keeper. His muttering likely had something to do with it. Curses were strongest when spoken. I could strike him down from here with one of my new fusion attacks. He had no idea he was being stalked, but the Spirit warned me not to use attacks of such magnitude just yet. It might disturb the curses or cause some type of cosmic collapse of the space.

I would need every ounce of my Spirit and energy to seal the legion itself. That left one option. To stich the Magician's mouth shut with my teeth. An assault from the front, in direct line of sight, between the pillars, offered the best advantage from the surrounding trees. One strike would knock the Magician back so hard he would hit the stone in a double skull cracking hit. I must attack hard and fast to end this as soon as possible. One feint would take me from here to there in the blink of an eye. The Magician would not even be able to open his eyes in time to see me coming.

A small bend of my legs, a tightening of muscle, and I was ready. My body disappeared in a flicker of shadow, a feint of my existence, cutting through space faster than the speed of light like I always did before, except this time, I encountered another trying to manipulate the space at the same time. The Magician. My influence met his and I crashed into the invisible shield he had created around the altar. The force of the impact hardened the energy and caused it to shatter in an explosion of glittering light. It caused a great crashing, sharp and painful to the ear.

The Magician's eyes sprang open. He saw me materialize at the edge of the altar in recoil of the attack and he jumped to his feet. A little dazed, but not concussed, I paused to gather my bearings. I then hopped onto the altar and shook the crystal dust from my coat. Energy shields flexed under the heat of the strongest force. These darkened creatures would have done better to build a rock wall against me. Not knowing what other interdimensional distortions existed or what the after effects of our collision would do to the space itself, I decided to remain in normal reality while on the stage.

Across the way, the Magician's murmurs escalated into spells that he threw in my direction with purposeful motions of his hands and arms. These special attacks, whatever they were, rushed across the altar and puffed against me like a Rock Giant's snort. The Magician was a true psychic then. His attacks would have little to no effect while I was at full strength, which made things much easier. I walked through wave after wave of attacks that pounded at me with the force of an airy slap. Having endured the taunting of a much Higher Spirit, my cloak of darkness was not only tightly fastened, but whipping furiously with promises of retribution.

The Magician's shouts turned to screams as I continued my advance. He began to back pedal out of the center of the stage. I started running to catch him before he could try to escape into the trees. I did not know the extent of the Seer's shadow so I did not want to risk taking the fight outside of the altar. The words were flying now and the Magician's gestures shifted. A new resonance filled his voice. He extended his arms out to the sides. The ground began to shake, forcing me to a stop halfway across. Pebbles bounced. Stone rumbled and scratched and rubbed and lifted from the dirt and dust. Three boulders came alive from the mountain. They stretched out four knobby gravely arms, two on each side of their round bodies, and pushed up on to two feet.

The deep crags of their faces turned in my direction. I doubt they could see or smell or hear, but with the Magician's commands, Graveler he called them, they knew exactly where I was. Using their arms to throw themselves into motion, they launched into rolling charges. I jerked back to let the first cut in front of me. The second came from the side. A quick dart and I gleaned off of its path, going straight into a weave to avoid the third. By now, the first was on its way back and the Magician was smugly walking backwards away from the battle. I did not have the height to jump over the rocks without momentum.

Their bodies spun too quickly to launch off of. They were also fast sprinters with four powerful arms to propel them. But they were mindless, only capable of keeping my paws in motion by the crisscrossing lines the Magician drew with his hands. He orchestrated their movements with musical finesse. Sometimes their bodies clashed in thunderous claps of stone. Other times, they scraped one another as they rushed past me. Little by little, I drew my own lines until I finally lured them into a chase. The Magician was getting good now. He curved them close to my shadow. One by one, they fell in line as I rounded the stage and cut straight through the center toward the Magician. He was not afraid because his puppets were gaining speed. They would crush me before I collided with him.

Or at least, if I kept this pace.

A burst of speed shot me forward, past the Magician, and off of the stage where my paws dug into the earth. I landed in a sharp pivot that shot me off to the side. The Graveler fell behind my quick paws, but continued the path, barreling straight for the Magician who had trapped himself in his retreat between two of the stone columns. He had enough time to bat away the first Graveler, tossing it up with invisible force just high enough so that he could duck under it. But they were heavy and full of momentum and imbued with his own power. The second Graveler mowed him down flat while the third picked up the sticky mess within its treads like a swatch of mud. No longer controlled and inclined to do what Graveler did best, the three rocks kept going and crashed down the side of the mountain, carrying the remains of the Magician as they went.

I lost sight of them over the edge. Trees snapped and shook. The noise and destruction would draw attention, so I waited, poised for whatever enemy would come, but none appeared. The destruction quieted. Time went by undisturbed. The hidden portal remained still. The dark stain on the grass was the only indication of trouble. There might have been a few more loose rocks and pebbles and dirt on the altar, but the stone itself was unmarred despite the rough buffering. The altar was protected from the abrasive trails of the Graveler somehow.

I shifted space to see in Spirit, a different plane. The protective barrier outside of the altar was gone, but the structure itself still radiated with cursed energy. Dispelling the spiritual sight, I then looked above the stage where the Lunar Stone still hovered motionless. I hopped back on the altar and walked around the creature, examining it more closely. The Doom Seers appeared at the edge of the trees, panting and fatigued. Seeing how I was alone and in functional condition, they stopped to catch their breath for a few reassuring words.

"Worry not of the Rolling Rocks," they said, coming up to stand on either side of me. "Many fall from the altar after earthquakes."

"There have been many leading up to the ritual." "None will know the difference."

It explained the lack of response.

"Those were the last of the rocks." "But not of the enemy."

I ignored the vulpine like inflection to the statement and looked up at the Lunar Stone again. Although I meant to destroy it, the rock did not notice me. It might be incapable of doing so while in its sleeping state. There was also a chance it could not distinguish me from itself. Daughter of the Moon, Elder Bear called me.

So I was.

The Spirit of this alien creature was intimately tied to the existence of the invisible curses around it. It served as their power source in the day time, sustaining them in the light when they would have otherwise dissipated. Inevitably, it enhanced them at night. The stone was a tool used by the enemy more than a manipulator or participant. The wicked lock to the otherworld. But if I destroyed it now, would it stop the ritual? Would another Lunar Stone or similar creature take its place? Did they even need a lock when they were preparing to fling the gates wide open?

One thing was certain. If I destroyed it now, the enemy would undoubtedly know something was working against them and they may decide to take action or delay the ritual. If so, the enemy beyond the portal may remain out of my reach forever. I would rather face them all at once at full power with the element of surprise so I might know the true extent of their capabilities. I was not afraid of facing such a truth for although the altar was defiled, it was still a place of power to all that came upon it. I felt it even when we did not stand upon the stage. My way with the Spirit was magnified by this place, even more so than any other because I was of the dark, because I was Mighty Hena, and because I was Moonborn. The foxes' earlier riddles in the misty forest suddenly became clear. Seven tails from seven blessings I received over the course of my life, which I could now use as seven fangs to strike down the enemy. Seven deadly attacks using the full grace of the Spirit. Seven virtues for the seven ultimate curses. It was a great advantage.

But my cause was not the only one and the wild wished for balance.

The two Doom Seers suddenly turned their heads, eyes flashing, and back stepped several paces to create more room in the middle of the altar. I retreated with them, staying in between them. An enemy was coming. One they recognized. The two Seers used their illusions to hide me before their master arrived. It was no Magician. With tar black fur, gnarled horns, and a stench as foul as the state of his Spirit, Ezekiel Doom Seer stepped out of the shadow of the altar, maybe even the cursed portal itself, and materialized center stage. He must be the original traitor. The only one qualified to wield the key to this place.

"I told you to wait until twilight you blabbering sorcerer," he started before he even completely appeared, "and here you summon me with vague intentions, cryptic warnings, and veiled threats?"

Ezekiel was now fully formed and appeared younger and stronger than I knew him to be. New bones were added to his back like spare ribs. They extended up his neck to his head where the eye sockets of a skull were fitted over his horns so that the top of his muzzle was armored with a skull. He even slipped vertebra up his tail so that it looked like a skeleton's. The collar above his shoulders had fused with that of a different beast, making it thicker and sharper. He now had a cloak of his own. One made from the bones of others like Shaman and Skull Ghosts. He had become a Soul Stealer. My hackles shot up, electrified. The foxes took full control, struggling to keep their eyes from glowing as they suppressed me.

"Do you think your vision can compare to the sight of a prophet?" he continued, never stopping. "That the human tools you use, ancient and precious as they may be, give you the right to ascend to the divine plane with the Crowned Hounds?"

It was then that Ezekiel realized two other hounds stood before him instead of the sorcerer as he called it. He did not see me. It never registered in any way that I was there. Yet all I could see was Ezekiel. All I could think of were the creatures he killed, the bones he stole, and the blood he bathed in to restore his vitality. The souls of those creatures would remain tethered to this world, corrupt and suffering eternally. My entire being lifted. I dug my claws in the stone to hold my place.

I must set them free.

My two hounds and their foxes maximized their output while trying to maintain their cover in order to smother me in presence and Spirit and purpose, but this was one enemy I refused to hide from. A single pulse of dark energy blew away the illusion. The earth shuddered as I tapped into the Spirit upon the altar. It pushed my two hounds off of their paws, allowing Ezekiel a clear unquestionable line of sight to my presence. I did not attack even if it was to my advantage. I wanted him to see me. To recognize me.

"It is not possible," he muttered. "I saw it. The storm that swallowed the grasslands in snow and ice and despair. You were abandoned. You burned in the belly of a Beckoner and were no more."

Ezekiel thought me dead. Then this ghost would kill him. The legion would never know the difference. This Doom Seer was the Key Master after all and ghosts of all kinds were welcomed here.

I leapt at Ezekiel, but the initial pause gave him time to react. Too close to turn, he met my headbutt with his own, hoping to impale me with his horns. Our foreheads collided and his outer skull shattered, blowing outward past our heads. It left one socket rattling around his horn as he spun away to lash me with his tail. I caught the boney whip in my mouth, biting down so hard that the vertebra crunched between my teeth. But his true tail was thin and sleek. It slipped between the breaking shards and my closing jaws. The barbed point cut my mouth and lip when it whipped free.

Ezekiel was now far enough for fire. He unleashed a torrent of flame with his breath. I tucked into a defensive curl. The flames roared over and around me. When the hot rush ended, my coat was hard and my tail like iron. My paws did not feel the burden. I sprinted for the hound. This time, a fire ball flew towards me. I smacked it away with a spin of my tail. It exploded in a flash of light against one of the nearby stone columns. My advance did not slow. The flames kept coming. They screamed at me. I snarled back, grabbing them with my teeth, setting my fang on fire as I tore through the attack. Ezekiel did not see me until I pushed through the assault.

Smoking and blinded by the light, I did not see him either, so my bite landed lower than intended. I chomped down on the flesh of his upper front leg instead of his jugular. It was a sturdy full bite, but nowhere critical. Just low enough for Ezekiel to bite back. He grabbed me below the shoulder where my mane was thickest. It weakened the attack to laughable levels. A Mighty Hena's jaws were far stronger than a hound's. One bite and I might never let go no matter how many times he bit me. And at this angle, the hound would never strike anywhere critical with my mane in the way. Another burst of flame separated us. This time, I maintained the distance, head low and breathing heavy. Ezekiel kept his chin high, trying to hide his panting and catching his breath for a few condescending words.

"You've gotten slow, Mother," he said, although his heaving chest indicated otherwise. "Your bite has weakened. Not a single broken bone! And yet you Chariot Hounds boast of your teeth. Just one bite? I have landed far more blows on you. Just look at you, you look like a mad dog!"

My hair was slightly burnt and haggard. A patch of my coat was slick with slobber where Ezekiel bit me. A spot of blood was starting to clot just below my mane where the fur was short and grey. The cut on my lip was bleeding, but the amount of drool dipping from my lips washed it away. My saliva was so thick that I kept my jaws open to keep it from back flowing down my throat and choking me. The fight made it froth in the corners.

"It seems you've finally gone rabid," Ezekiel went on, laughing. Steps stumbling ever so slightly. "Which would explain your erratic presence here. Have you finally given in to madness? Did our curses draw out the insanity lurking within you?"

His lip twitched. An eye pinched in a wince. I watched him, unable to stop the copious amounts of drool dangling from my mouth. Then again, it was not drool at all. Ezekiel's smile strained. His back legs started to give out. The smug expression on his face vanished completely when his rump hit the ground and he had to adjust his front paws to keep from falling sideways. I coughed into a hack. I never used the full force of my poison fang before. Most of the time, it was just excess build up. It made me sick just to have so much on my tongue. I spat some out and it helped staunch the flow. Ezekiel's eyes widened with the realization that something, somewhere, had gone terribly wrong.

"What have you done?" he demanded as his chest began to shiver.

His fellow hounds kept their distance. They were unwilling to get close as the stone started to bubble and smoke where my drool was thickest. The acrid smell made me sneeze, flinging even more acid spittle. By the time I got control of the poison, closed my mouth, and looked up, Ezekiel's whole body was shaking. One of his front legs went stiff and he fell over. I carefully avoided the mess I created and calmly walked over to the Seer. I waited and watched until the seizure was over.

Spit frothed in the corner of Ezekiel's mouth. His white rimmed eyes turned up at me. I wondered what he saw until I remembered my own prophecy back on the mountain of Castle Rock. It left an even worse numb tingling sensation in my mouth than the poison. I did not like the taste of it. Ezekiel's mouth moved as he tried to speak, but only a gurgle came out, followed by a convulsive vomit that left him still and unblinking. His eyes lost their depth.

My grudge with the Doom Seer was finally settled.

The curses around us writhed in excitement. Death was their strongest stimulant. They cared not where it came from. When the legion awoke tonight, they might not even realize their Gate Keeper and Key Master were gone because the portal had already sucked up their souls in a fit of ecstasy. The curses were now strong enough to sustain themselves.

The two remaining Seers jumped when I looked at them, more hound than fox. They dutifully followed as I trotted off of the stage of death. Only when my paws were on natural earth again did I stop and look back. This time, at the sky where the moon was bright and close to bursting even in the day. Tonight would be no simple full moon, but a blood moon.

"A bad moon rises," I told the Seers. "Do not leave my watch or it will take your life."

"What will you have us do now?" One of the hounds asked.

"Knock all of the snow from the trees around the altar. As many as you can," I instructed, turning my attention to them once more.

"Why?" the other asked and I could see why the foxes liked them.

"Because we must prepare."

"For what?"

The foxes were excited now, purple eyes brightening.

"A holocaust," I answered, red eyes glowing to match their own.