When Yao Yao's eyes cracked open, the world was moving. Stone and roots dug into her ribs, the ground scraping beneath her as she was dragged forward. Ahead, a faint glow swayed with each step—firelight, clinging to the tip of a tail. Lumen's tails coiled tight around her, pulling her through the dark effortlessly.
She tried to push herself up. Her fingers scraped at the dirt, nails catching clumps of soil, but her arms gave out almost instantly. Her chest heaved once, a rasp of air breaking loose. "…Where…?"
The light shifted as he slowed. His head turned slightly, the flame catching the edge of his face. "You're awake," he said. "We're almost there."
Then he moved again, her body jolting with each uneven stone. The air grew damp, cooler, until the passage narrowed into a hollow that seemed to swallow them both.
At last, he stopped. The grip around her loosened, and she crumpled onto the ground. Cold dirt pressed against her cheek. A sharp flare cut the dark, and when his tail brushed a torch wedged into the wall, fire leapt up, spreading light through the chamber.
It was small. The walls were torn with claw marks, roots splitting down from above like crooked veins. Bones littered the floor, hollowed clean, tufts of fur still clinging to stone. Shadows pooled thick in the corners, making the space feel smaller still.
Yao Yao's breath shook. She tried to move her head, but her neck resisted, vision swimming too much to focus. Even breathing seemed to drain what little strength remained. Her lips parted, barely audible. "What… is this… place…?"
"This is my home," Lumen said. His shadow stretched across the wall, long and thin. "You're safe here."
Safe.
The word rang wrong. Her heart pounded, her ribs aching with it. Nothing about this place felt safe.
"Why…" The word slipped out, cut short by the weight in her throat. Why did you bring me here…?
But he gave no answer. Only silence, before his tails brushed against the floor again, dragging something from the shadow forward.
A book.
The leather was blackened at the edges, cracked and brittle as though it had once been burned. Its binding was frayed, parchment warped and curled like skin.
"The book…" he murmured, muzzle lowering to the page. "…speaks of a magic."
The firelight spilled across it, pulling faint lines into view—symbols looping into a rough circle and fading. At the center was a single mark, small and dark, shaped like a drop.
"It's simpler than the others. No chants, no heavy offerings. Just this—a spell, a sacrifice, and blood. Enough to make the one who perform stronger."
Her chest clenched. What is he saying…?
"It's the way to fix things. Like you said."
Her heart jolted. Like I said…?
"I tried it." His tone stayed flat, distant, like his thoughts were still caught in the memory. "And it worked."
He turned his head toward the far corner, where the firelight didn't reach. "That's how I got my third tail."
Yao Yao squinted into the dark, her eyes trembling to adjust. A shape lay there—larger than she wanted to think about, heavy in the shadows. Then, as though he wanted her to see, he dragged it forward.
It landed before her with a heavy thump.
A body. Shrunken, hollow, as though all the life inside had been drained away. Its shape sagged into itself, unrecognizable until her eyes caught the curve of its limbs.
A toad—or what used to be one.
Her lungs hitched, air spilling fast and shallow. Panic swelled sharp through her chest until it felt like she couldn't breathe at all. "…You… killed it…"
Lumen's voice softened to a hush, almost apologetic. "I didn't mean to. It was by the river. Wounded by the Sylth. He was dying."
Then his eyes lifted back to her, glinting with a feverish light. "So I thought… if he was already dying, maybe I could try."
His paw brushed one tail, claws grazing fur as though to prove it was real. "It worked."
For a heartbeat, wild delight twisted across his face before he forced it back down.
"I was careful," he added quickly. "I didn't wish for this to happen… it was an accident." His voice thinned, almost breaking. "I only meant to take a little blood."
A little?! Her gaze shot to the corpse again. That wasn't a little. The toad was emptied—skin clinging to bone, blood stripped from every vein. Every drop.
Her chest burned as she tried to push herself up, but her body sagged uselessly against the dirt, lungs heavy, refusing to move. Her eyes darted frantically, the only part of her that could move.
No… this can't be happening. She'd let her guard down—completely. Just because they spoke like humans, with thought in their eyes, she had forgotten what they were. Spirits. Creatures of power.
Until now, her dealings with them had been shallow, almost safe. Even the two ancients—one she had ruffled, the other who tossed her aside—never felt truly dangerous. Their presence had been cold, arrogant, but never cruel. If anything, it had made her bold enough to shout, to storm off, to act reckless.
But this… this was different.
Her throat burned as she forced sound through it. "…What… do you…"
"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I won't hurt you."
Her breath stuttered. That's exactly what criminals say right before they hurt you…!
"I like the name you gave me." His tone carried an odd gentleness. "Lumen. No one ever gave me anything like that before. You made me… someone."
That single word—blurted without thought—now sat in her chest, heavy with regret.
He laid his head on his paws, voice muffled against them. "I was lonely. Everyone left me. Called me useless. A disgrace. Other foxes grew tails—four, five… I stayed the same. No one cared." His ears twitched faintly. "So I stayed here. Some nights I didn't even bother with fire. Just sat awake in the dark, waiting for dawn. Wondering what it must feel like… to have power."
His eyes flickered with memory, voice lowering further. "Then the ancient who ruled the woods vanished. The others panicked. And I thought—if I found him, maybe they'd see me again. Maybe I'd be useful."
"So I dug. Wandered further than the rest." His gaze unfocused. "The ground gave way. I fell into a cavern, sealed by old magic. At its center, a barrier. Behind it, a box. I thought it was treasure."
The fire crackled sharply.
"I stepped through. The barrier didn't stop me. It let me pass, but it tore me apart. My skin, my blood, everything. I should've died. But I didn't." His shoulders trembled faintly. "And when I could move again, I opened the box. Inside was this book. Most of it I couldn't read. Spells. Strange words. But this one… this I understood."
His claws brushed over the parchment, then shifted back to his tail. "The toad was already bleeding when I tried. He lost too much blood, so he didn't survive the magic. But it was enough. It gave me this."
The tail twitched.
Then, without warning, he stood. The fire carved sharp lines across his face. His eyes glowed bright, almost childlike—but that brightness felt wrong.
"I only need a little," he said, voice trembling. He stepped closer. "Not everything. Just a few drops. You won't die… you're different. A fourth tail. That's all I need. Then I can return."
Yao Yao looked at him, dread surging through her. She wanted to scream, to move, but her body refused, pinned helplessly to the ground.
"This is the only way to fix it."
He crouched low, close enough that his breath brushed her skin. His paw pressed at her temple, where blood still seeped. When he pulled it back, crimson streaked his fur.
"See?" he whispered. "Just a bit."