Mother - Chapter 8.1

8

Magic simply cannot exist.

That’s what the hopeful voice in the back of my mind has told me ever since Mother’s death. Magic cannot exist, and somehow, I’ll find a rational explanation for everything. The world will remain the same one I’ve always known, and no matter how long it takes, I’ll find my way back to some semblance of my old life.

Now I know better.

Because the moment I turn around, I’m struck by a familiar pair of azure-blue eyes, and the spirit to whom they belong, and the hopeful voice in the back of my mind withers into perpetual silence. The lantern falls from my hand and the panes shatter on the ground with a sharp crack.

Reality plunges into storming disarray.

Across the meadow, the spirit is perched at the base of the ghostly tree, something akin to a very large fox, with a radiant silver pelt like liquid moonlight. A ruff of sparkly fur pads its chest, lending it a majestic aura of pride. It has several puffy tails that are twice as long as its body, perhaps about ten, impossible to count as they twist and writhe, licking the midnight air like white flames.

A rectangular portion of the ashy tree trunk has swung open as if on hinges, and from inside, blue light endlessly pours, the same colour as the intricate symbol stamped on my forearm. The same colour as the shining, almond shaped eyes that are locked onto mine.

I’m not surprised to hear the spirit talk. Or perhaps I’m already too thunderstruck as it is.

“Good evening, Henrik.” It says, voice echoey, as if spoken from behind a mask and from the end of a long tunnel. Its mouth remains closed, yet the words somehow whisper over the short distance between us like a petal riding a soft breeze. “You’ve been looking for me.”

Fingers close around my arm and I start. Mr Tanaka has clutched my arm again, this time a symbol of protection rather than an attempt to whisk me away.

“Mr Tanaka,” the spirit says, bowing its head. “It’s been a while. Three decades, if I’m correct.”

Mr Tanaka cannot speak because he’s mute. I can’t quite decide what my excuse is.

A pregnant silence hangs in the air. The spirit’s glowing eyes flick back to mine. “I’m afraid we’ll need to push this along; I’m here on business.”

I finally find my voice, though it comes out croaky and dry, as if, like Mr Tanaka, I haven’t used it for an age.

“What are you?”

One of the fox’s long, pointy ears twitch. “Forgive me. I forget how dull your world can be.”

The spirit puffs its glittery chest and draws back its head—even sitting, its eyes are level with mine.

“In my world, I am known as Kitsune, The Spirit of Vessels and Sire of Souls. I am here tonight to strike a deal.”

Mr Tanaka’s fingers squeeze a little tighter on my arm. I slowly regain composure. My voice is stronger.

“What kind of deal?”

Another heavy silence fills the meadow, punctuated with Mr Tanaka’s ragged breathing and the hypnotic swishing of the fox’s many tails.

Then the spirit makes its offer.

“Bring three souls for me to sire,” Kitsune says slowly. “And in return, I will release one of the many I have imprisoned inside my vessel.”

It takes me a long moment to arrange the words in my head before I can conjure any meaning out of them.

“Three souls to save one,” I summarise. “Seems fair.”

“If you perish before fulfilling your end of the deal,” Kitsune continues, as if I hadn’t interrupted. “I will collect your soul instead, and keep it for all of eternity.”

“Wow, what’s the catch?”

The fox’s mouth twists into something of a smile. “I wonder if you’ll be so facetious once you know the owner of the last soul I reaped.”

I feel my face drain of colour. My voice trickles away along with it.

“You saw me the night she died, did you not?”

My mind is a swarming riot of questions and possibilities, each flashing too quickly to cultivate into tangible thought. But behind it all, a new voice of hope is reborn, clear as morning light breaching a dark horizon. If what Kitsune says is true, if souls are real and we are more than the vessels that house them, then the wish I made on Mother’s death bed, for there to be more for her, isn’t a fantasy anymore. I can make it happen.

The only question is whether I can pay the cost. I said from the beginning that I would do whatever it takes. I stood on my cold rooftop the night Mother died, looked Kitsune in the eyes and promised I would win. But I never could have known it would take this.

I glance up at Mr Tanaka’s face, searching for some kind of inspiration, and instead see the same expression that must be mirrored on my own—an inner conflict of morality, a struggle with the decision to save a loved one at the expense of the innocent, and I realise with a lurch in my stomach, that he’s in exactly the same position as I am. His hand falls from my arm. His eyes remain fixed on mine. For the first time I see a glimmer of something other than sadness. Before I can work out what that is, Kitsune’s whispery voice snaps me back to the reality crumbling all around me.

“Does my deal seem like a bargain yet?”

There’s not enough time to weigh each option in my mind and see which is heavier. I know I can’t let Kitsune disappear forever with my mother’s soul. I just as equally can’t lead three people to their demise.

Whichever decision I make, I need to make it soon, because I may never get another chance. Mr Tanaka hasn’t seen Kitsune for thirty years. If I hesitate now, who knows if this opportunity will come back around.

I start to say something, and realise I’m no closer to making my decision, and so my voice trails into quiet uncertainty.

Kitsune emits a breathy, skin crawling chuckle.

“Ah, my mistake. It seems I may have mislead you. You see, one of the many abilities I possess is to stare directly into the souls of men. I can sense their worth in the blink of an eye, just like I sense yours right now, as easily as you yourself can feel the chill in the air. Unfortunately, I am bound to deal only with those who remain pure of soul. And you are not pure, are you, Henrik? You have broken one of the cardinal laws of nature. You have allowed another’s vessel to come to harm by your own hand, and for that, your soul is forever tainted.”

“Tainted?”

“You’re worthless to me, Henrik,” Kitsune says. “That’s why I’m not here for you.”

The spirit tilts its furry head, pointing an ear skyward, as if listening to something our human ears cannot detect.

“Impeccable timing,” Kitsune says. “Now the star of the show has arrived, I must ask you to keep very—

Each of its tails curl around its body to form a cage, the tips pointing at us like a canon.

—still.”

Blue beams shoot from the tails like lasers, each meeting together in the air halfway between us, creating a small, shapeless explosion of light. Before we can react, two identical symbols shoot from the flare, hissing through the air as they rocket towards us. The first hits Mr Tanaka in the stomach. The second connects with my chest.

It’s as if my body turns to marble. The chill of the night air slips away from my flesh. I can no longer sense where my limbs begin or end. I can only watch the world from the eyes of my immobilized vessel.

Time seems independent from me now, either rushing by in flashes or crawling uphill like a wounded animal. I may never know which.

At some point, a small figure brushes between Mr Tanaka and myself, blonde hair soaking up every ounce of blue glaring from the open tree.

“Wow, Hen, you found the lonely spirit!”

Conrad ambles forward, meandering through the tree stumps without so much as a glance in our direction, compelled by the large fox lying in wait. He’s covered in dirt, and there’s a small twig poking out from the side of his hair. He patters forward and comes to an excited stop in front of Kitsune.

His head bobs up and down and his arms gesture animatedly—I realise he’s talking to the spirit, but they’re either too far away, or I’ve lost the ability to hear.

A glint of steel catches my eye. Stabbed into the mud at our feet, Mr Tanaka’s bamboo splitter gleams, tantalisngly close. I try with all my might to struggle against the enchantment and reach the knife, however I can’t feel a single muscle in my legs, much less use enough of them to move my entire body. I can only wait, helpless, mentally pleading for Conrad to turn around. If he sees the spells stamped to our bodies, he might realise what the spirit has done, or at least sense enough danger to flee, save himself.

As they talk, Kitsune’s eyes occasionally flick towards mine, and every time they do, a smile twists at the corners of its mouth.

This goes on for an indefinable length of time, until one of Kitsune’s tails curve around its body. For a horrible moment, I think it’s about to enchant Conrad as it did us, but the tail comes to a harmless stop before my brother in an odd sort of gesture, as if the spirit wants him to take a hold of it.

This is when Conrad finally looks over his shoulder, pale eyes widening at the strange sight of us. He goes to take a step, perhaps to rush to our aid. Kitsune must say something to stop him in his tracks, however, because he wheels around again.

Conrad nods, pledging his agreement to something. Then the time for conversation is over. He stretches out a small hand to the tail offered to him and his fingers close around it.

There’s nothing I can do to save him now.

His body jolts as if struck by lightning, hand clenching tight around Kitsune’s tail. His body rises slightly off the ground, lifting onto the tips of his toes. His back arcs until his face is cast up to the roof of the cave. His mouth is wide and panic-stricken but I cannot hear him scream.

There’s a flash of blue, then Conrad crumples into a small mound, unmoving. Kitsune triumphantly places a paw on my brother’s back and stares at me from across the meadow.

A sudden rush of white noise floods my ears. The spell breaks on my chest, exploding into blue cinders, and I fall to my knees, legs unprepared for the sudden strain of my body.

“And so the deal has been struck,” Kitsune says.

I crawl forward, clawing at the ground, struggling to regain enough coordination to clear the distance between us.

The fox turns and places a paw inside the threshold of the tree. As a final farewell gesture, it glances over its shoulder, eyes brighter than ever.

“Tell me, Hen. Do you still think you can win?”

And with that, Kitsune enters the passage to our world, consumed by the blue flowing from within.

Mr Tanaka has found his feet. With a speed that should defy his age, he snatches his blade and vaults across the meadow.

But it’s too late. The door swings shut and we fall into darkness.