"Mother! Katla!"

Fox ran up the road tugging at the shabby, shaky cart, whose wobbly wheels crunched over the gravel, groaning to keep up with him. 

A handful of branches fell off. He spared them but a glance and had no intention of picking them up. It was a small price to pay to arrive home more quickly. Besides, he had filled the cart to the brim with thick logs and dry kindling wood. There was enough, more than enough.

"Mother! Katla!" he repeated.

Out of breath, Fox pushed the door opened and stormed into the cottage. Instantly, old, tepid rain gushed from the roof spouts and splashed down, partly on the leaf-green doormat, and partly soaking the back of his legs.

"There's a monster in the forest!" he announced. "An ugly one!"

Mother, who sat in the cosy rocking chair by the fireplace, dropped the grey shirt she was mending and gasped. "A monster? But that cannot be—there are no monsters in Todd's Hollow."

"There is one," Fox insisted, "guarding the cave by the turn of the river. I saw it. I fought it." He was forced to take another deep breath. "I killed it."

Katla looked up from his drawing, twirling a piece of charcoal between his fingers. His eyebrows were etched into a doubtful scowl. "So there was a monster. It's dead."

"Well... yeah, or maybe it's dying..."

Katla hummed.

"You have to believe me. It was a snake, as tall as you." Fox paused as images of a woman flashed before his eyes. She had a slender face, venomous green eyes, and long auburn hair tied into a bun. But she wasn't who he had seen. It had clearly been a serpentine creature.

"She talked like a woman, but not soft and sweet like Mother," he continued. "She said she wanted me, needed me, that I had to follow her voice. And she had sharp teeth, sharper than any knife, than any sword. She bit me, in my leg and my foot."

"Snakebites!" Mother screeched. She beckoned him to come closer. "Come here, my little warrior. Let me see—we'll have to suck out the venom. I'll give you—"

"No, that won't be needed," Fox interrupted her. He made a little dance to show that while his legs were coated in mud, there was nothing to fret about. "The bite marks are all gone."

"So you're not in pain?"

Fox shook his head. 

"You said you fought her—didn't she hurt you?"

"Actually, there wasn't much fighting," Fox had to admit. "It was very easy to kill her. All I had to do was pick up a rock and throw it at her. Then, as she was confused and distracted, I grabbed my sword and chopped off her head. The rest of her body slithered back into darkness. We'll never see her ever again."

"Weren't you scared?"

"A little, maybe. At first." He plunged down onto his mother's lap. Tiny, shallow wrinkles had formed on her forehead. He touched them, and they disappeared; she was much prettier without them. "But then I thought of you, and how I wanted to keep you safe."

"And I bet that snake was even more scared than you were," Katla said. 

"Yeah, that too." Fox pretended to claw. "'No, Fox. Don't do this to me. Come to me. Come to me.' She never guessed that I would come and slay her."

When Katla smirked, Fox's giggles filled the room.

Mother wrapped her arms around him and planted kisses on his forehead. Gone were her frown lines. "Oh, my sweetling, that makes me love you even more!"

He gave into the embrace. This must be what true bliss was like, blessed by the almighty Goddess of Kindness. Even if that evil snake-lady were to return, she would never be able to lure him away. He had everything he needed right here, in this tiny cottage at the edge of Todd's Hollow. Mother's warmth. Katla's wisdom. Good food to fill his belly, endless forests to roam, and a warm bed to snuggle into at night. 

What more could a boy ever want?

Mother took out her handkerchief and pressed the cloth against his cheek. Fox ducked. "No, Mother. I don't want to."

"There's blood on your cheek."

"Keep it there," he grunted. "It'll warn the other monsters."

"How so?"

"It tells them that..." As he reached for his sword, he touched neither the hilt nor the blade. His precious snakeslayer was gone, most likely still by the cave where he had dropped it to collect the abundance of firewood the monster had been guarding. Tomorrow, he would have to go back. "Well... that this place belongs to us, and that I will never let anything bad happen to you, or to Katla. I'm the protector of Todd's Hollow."

"Silly firebug," she cooed. "We're the ones protecting you."

Fox cocked his head. "Huh?"

Mother smiled, and immediately Fox forgot what she had said. She had the most beautiful smile, with dimples creasing her cheek. He poked them.

She planted a quick kiss on his nose. Fox giggled again.

Katla shuffled around. He sat down by the fireplace where he cleared the ashes with one swipe before starting to stack thick branches in a pyramid-like pile.

"No, Katla." Fox leapt off his mother's lap and planted his hands on his hips. "I didn't gather all this wood to watch you play with fire. That's my job."

"Just this once I'll do it. I don't mind."

"Oh, no! You told me I could always do it, whenever I wanted, to show Mother what I can do."

"You're right, son. Promises are promises." Katla sighed in defeat. "But can I still sit here and watch?"

"You have to watch, Katla. What else would you do?"

His master didn't say anything, though the answer was easy: nothing at all.

After finishing the pyramid structure, Fox filled the gaps with kindling wood. He sat down on his knees next to Katla, like he had done so often before. 

At least, it seemed like he had done it countless times before. Somehow, he couldn't actually recall being in the same room as Mother and Katla while he lighted up a fire.

He swallowed and blinked. Since he had met the snake, he had felt odd—not quite nauseous or nervous—as if he wasn't himself. 

A weight was pressing down his chest. His fingers tingled.

"Do you want me to show you again how it's done?" Katla asked.

"No, I know how." Fox nibbled his lip and swore he tasted blood. A quick touch taught him he wasn't bleeding. He refocused his attention. "I want a nice fire, with strong flames to keep us warm, but not so strong that the cottage catches fire. I want it... now!" 

He flicked his wrist.

There was no glow that grew from within, no warm sensation that filled his bones. Not a single spark shot up from his fingertips.

"I need to use more magic. The wood—it's still wet," he said to Katla, but mostly to himself.

Raindrops were tapping on the roof. Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter.

Looking out the round window adorned with silver and green roses, he couldn't see any rain. The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud for miles on end. Yet there was something about the sky: a peculiar colour, blotched murky brown with streaks of black in the west.

"It does smell like smoke in here." A feminine voice that didn't belong to Mother spoke. His chest tightened further.

"What?" he asked.

"I wasn't speaking," Katla said.

"Neither was I," Mother said.

Fox scratched his head. Other than the three of them, there wasn't another soul around. His eye fell on a mirror he had never seen before, yet it stood there, gathering dust in the corner of the room.

He gasped. Not a boy of ten, but a taller, paler man with red hair and scars across his sunken cheeks looked back at him.

The ground slipped from under him; he felt light in the head, his weight pushed down.

A blink later, he was back on his feet.

Katla touched Fox's shoulder. "Son, are you alright? You look spooked."

Fox looked at Katla, then back at the corner. 

The mirror was gone.

"I need to make a fire. There's another monster coming," he said hastily. "One that likes playing tricks."

Katla didn't deny this theory. "Show me what you got," he said encouragingly. 

Fox widened his arms. He pictured a crackling fire, big yet contained. Bright, hot magic flowed through his veins, a rush of power that made him feel like a God. 

Yet before the fiery burn flared from his fingers, it sputtered. 

His muscles cramped.

He clenched his teeth to keep the tears from flowing. "Why doesn't it work? I've always been able to do this. I am the Master of Fire. The best in the land."

"You can't be. I'm the Master, you're the apprentice," Katla said.

"No, I took over, because you're... you're..." 

He didn't finish the thought, the words already fleeting. 

It wasn't important. All he needed was a burst of pretty flames that burned through the branches and formed scalding cinders, and then all would be well. He would be warm, and so would Mother. If any monster decided to show its grisly face, he would grab a branch and chase the creature out of Todd's Hollow. That would teach it a lesson!

Fox peered at the wooden construction, his hand curled into a claw. His muscles were trembling so much, that there was little he could do to stop the shaking. He could do this. He was fire, and fire was him.

A bone-snapping pain shot up from his foot where the snake had bitten him. Sparks ignited from the tips of his fingers and caught onto the wood. White smoke wafted up. Minuscule embers fused into the perfect flame.

Mother erupted into applause. "Well done, darling!"

She stopped clapping as thunder clamoured through the valley and lightning coloured the sky in reddish hues. The wind, silent as the night but moments ago, howled as thick pelts of inky rain descended from the heavens. Suddenly, a deep growl reverberated through the room. A more high-pitched roar responded. 

The dishes rattled in the cupboard as the cottage shook. A jug of milk fell down and broke; there was neither a pool nor any shards.

"What's that?" Fox screeched. He edged towards Katla. 

His master, now wearing a long cloak, stood up. He squeezed Fox's shoulder. "It's time. They're here."

"Time for what? Who's coming?"

Katla didn't respond. Slowly, he pointed at the river.

Giant shadows spewed up from the water, with ghastly limbs and long, outstretched faces. Each of their steps, slow and faltering, roiled and boomed across the valley; a choir to the thunder and roaring of the animals.

Fox let out a squeak. They were creeping towards the cottage, towards him!

He wanted to run out the back door when fear nailed him to the ground. 

A few of these ghoulish creatures were floating by the window; they scratched their nails on the thin glass. Fox screeched even louder. Scared of their presence, of their human-like faces with shrivelled cheeks or gaping, bleeding holes where their nose or an eye should have been.

A few climbed up the roof, while four or five of them glided towards the still open door, where they lingered as though a special force prohibited them from stepping over the threshold. Scars crossed their features, and some were missing skin as well, charred as scorched as though eaten by fire, bone and all.

Everywhere Fox looked, more and more ghosts closed in on him. They had surrounded the cottage. What could he do? He had to fight them, but how?

A strangely familiar man with long, lifeless hair opened his mouth. Instead of words, earth poured out. His broken, stick-like fingers reached for Fox, breaking the threshold. 

A girl stared at him accusingly; an arrow had pierced her throat. She entered the cottage but couldn't come close to him.

"Katla?" Fox peeped. He could no longer feel his master's presence behind him.

"I'm afraid we can't stay, son," Katla said, his voice but a whisper.

Fox scratched at his master's cloak, though the man was already fading. "No, you have to stay! You can't leave me. I don't have my sword. I barely have my magic. I can't defend myself from the monsters. Tell him, Mother! Please! Tell him to stay."

"I told you... there are no monsters in Todd's Hollow," Mother said without emotion. "They are here for you. They wish to see you."

"But I don't want to see them. They are monsters—you have to stay and help me."

"I did what I could, my little firebug, but they found you, anyway. It's up to you now, your trial, the weighing of your soul."

"Weighing... soul," Fox murmured. 

But that couldn't be; he was neither dead nor dying; these were not the gilded gates separating the Heavenly Halls from the hole to the Seven Hells.

"The monsters are going to kill me," Fox mumbled. As fear got the better of him, so did his tears. "Mother, I don't want to die."

"Foxy, these people... I can hear them... they're saying that you killed them." Her voice, faint and eerie, was filled with disappointment.

"I didn't, Mother. I only ever killed monsters. You have to believe me."

The precious words of comfort didn't come. She was fading; with each heartbeat, her skin grew more translucent.

"Mother! Mother!" Fox screamed. "You said you would never leave, that you would always stay with me! I'm scared... I'm so scared. Mother!"

The fire in the fireplace sizzled out. She was gone, and he was all alone.

Instantly, the giants born of thunder, lightning, and ungodly rain slipped into the room. Icy flakes covered the table, the chairs, the carpet, the walls, and the floor. 

One by one, they surrounded him.

Fox didn't want to meet their gaze, but was physically unable to. They were vaguely familiar. Once, they had been people. Once, he had walked among them. Long ago, in a dream, he had known their names or recalled where they had met. A wealth of knowledge lay at the tip of his tongue.

"What do you want of me?" he asked more confidently than he felt.

"Justice!" they hissed.

A waterfall of marbles dropped and rolled across the floor as a man twirled around Fox. The entire left side of his neck was gone. A piece of broken, charred bone stuck out of the skin. He held a dagger tight in his hand, as though the passing of time had glued them together. "I was the first."

Memories flooded back. Mallard had been the man's name. Half-Ear had sent him to Moondale to kill him, disguised as a toy-maker. Or maybe he had always been a toy-maker before he had decided to earn more gold as an assassin.

"I had to kill you," Fox explained, to the ghost, to himself, and to the room of shadows. "You... you would have stabbed me if I hadn't seen the dagger in the corner of my eye. It was me or you."

The spectre disintegrated into a mountain of ashen flakes. 

The pile was still melting, but not entirely gone when angry little feet scurried nearby. Thousands of mangled, crippled rats crept up the walls, squeaking, hissing, chattering his name. They went as quickly as they came.

That wasn't the end. The blonde-haired man with earth gushing out of his mouth approached. He was holding hands with a disfigured boy. His skin was flat in odd places, as though every bone in his body had been crushed under intense weight. 

A second, smaller boy appeared. Thick purple veins ran across his face. Water dripped down from him, yet there lay no puddle beneath his feet.

All three mouths opened, but only the boy with the broken bones spoke. "You were there when we died beneath Moonstone Castle. You were the reason we died that night."

"It wasn't my fault," Fox defended himself. "Felix pushed Wolf. Then the arches collapsed. I just happened to be there. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Like you didn't mean to kill us."

A squad of soldiers, eight in total, stepped through the shadows of Felix, Wolf, and King Ariel.  Only two names sprung to mind: Serjeant Jefferson and Jude, Little Jude. The rest were as nameless as they were faceless. Ghosts clad in iron, smelling of smoke and burnt meat. There were holes in their shell where bullets had hit them.

"I had to kill you. You knew I was a magician," Fox said. He had been on a mission, and they had been in his way. They would have killed him just like Mallard would have.

"If only we had known you were a magician much sooner."

Fox turned towards the voice. 

Four horses with broken legs stumbled into the cottage. Their riders in soot-stained, fire-damaged clothes were covered in gashes, stab wounds, and blaster holes. One man no longer had a face; a skull with flat black hair. The brown mare staggered, revealing the popping green veins where he had hit her in the heart.

"You could have run, but you stayed to protect your King!" Fox shouted. He was still afraid, but he didn't want them to know.

He staggered back as a man in a ripped grey uniform loomed over him. His throat bore red marks of strangulation, and there was a hole between his eyes. Out of all the ghosts, he looked the most human of them all.

"So why did you kill the King?" the man asked. His voice was raspy.

"He tried to kill me first. Ask Mallard!"

"I don't need to ask Mallard. I was there when the deal was struck—you were supposed to die, to rid the world of your evil before you went on a killing spree."

"I never did that."

"We are the innocent," chanted the shadows that swooshed around him. Whether he was shrinking or the room expanding, he couldn't tell. There were so many.

"Your fire burned down my house. I died fleeing my home," said an older man. Hoof prints marked his skull. A horse must have trampled him.

"I was looking for my mother."

"I wanted to warn my father."

Fox couldn't tell anymore who was speaking; the voices came from everywhere.

"I was running to protect my Queen."

"I tried to save my sister."

"I went fighting with my brother."

"I died defending my city."

"I got trapped between fire and a rain of bullets."

It was too much; there were too many. Feeling faint, Fox wished he could either run or fight, but the Gods granted him neither option.

A man with an obsidian jewel covering his ear crouched down in front of Fox and grabbed his face; forcing him to look into his bright blue eyes. "This is your doing. All these people—they're dead because of you. Because you wanted to take what wasn't yours," he said in disdain. "I had to die because you worship Greed, you worship Envy, you worship Wrath. You were born out of sin, a union of Pride and Lust. In death, you will burn like the true sinner you are."

"I had to," Fox argued. He struggled free from the ghostly grip. "I'm not evil, like you, Half-Ear. I don't belong in the Seven Hells. When I'm King, the world will be a virtuous place. I swear to Kindness and Charity. I will have Patience and Humility on my back, always."

The girl with the arrow stuck in her throat kept the other shadows at bay. "I believed you, Fox, but then I died."

"Fawn?"

"I was in so much pain, and my being is empty and dull."

"I never asked you to come. Your death shouldn't be my fault." Fox looked up at the sky. If this was his trial—where were the Gods? They had to know he was telling the truth.

"You were Silvermark's hope, Fox," Fawn said. "The saviour of magicians."

"I can still be. I can prove it—I'll be a good King."

"But you're dead. It's too late."

"I'm not... it's not."

Fawn evaporated; then popped back up among the dead. One by one, the spectres turned their back on him, and with it, silence returned to the room. 

Outside, the rain had stopped.

A large, bear-like mammal plodded around the house, huffing and sniffing. On the other side, a serpentine creature landed in the mud, flapping its wings and stirring the wind.

The shadows chanted in unison. "Praised be the winter and the summer, the times of Humility and Pride. Hail be the Bear and the Dragon, our King and Queen. Lord of the Heavens. Lady of the Hells. For You, we shall fall. For You, we shall rise."

A haze of smoke and mist wrapped around the dead, dragging them down into a swamp of swirling fog. Out of nowhere, a bright, blinding light illuminated the room. 

Figures shot up from the murky darkness, six on one side, and six on the other. Male and female, Kings and Queens, half of them dressed in black and red robes; the others wearing blue and gold. They bore masks either gilded or silver; each of them a different animal or bird.

Fox didn't think he could shake any more than he was. Gone was any trace of the cottage. On his left stood a magpie, a goat, a snake, a lion, a pig, and a snoring sloth. On the right, there was a rabbit, a swan, a whale, an eagle, a bee, and a squirrel.

They looked at each other, not at him, radiating an aura of authority. They didn't budge as the dragon curled around the circle. Her massive, horned head split the Gods of Sin into two halves; she took her place between the lady with the snake mask and the Lion man.

The bear roared as he shuffled in between the whale lady and the eagle. "Today, we weigh the soul of Henry, son of Brandon, son of William."

Right in the middle of the circle appeared a copper scale, tilted entirely to the left.

"Clearest case since King Tigris," proclaimed the snake lady. "Drag him down to the Hells, Brother Wrath."

"Not so fast, Sister Envy. We could forgive the times he had to choose between life and death," the rabbit said.

"Some deaths weren't his fault," added the lady with the whale mask. "There was a time in his life when he saw the good in those that didn't deserve his love."

"A hard worker," the bee buzzed. "Once he had a goal in mind, he could not be distracted."

With each statement, the scale tipped closer to the mid-point.

"Hold on, my Brother of Diligence," screeched the magpie. "His goals came when he worshipped me, when he wished to have what shouldn't be his."

"And if there was an easy way out, he abandoned all virtuous teachings and prayed to me," Sloth said slowly.

The Lord that looked like a lion nodded. "Violence was often his only answer."

"And if not violence, then lies." The dragon whacked the tip of its tail against the scale, tilting it back to the left. "Brother Wrath, the honour is yours. Burn his soul for all eternity and a day."

The lion-man bared his fangs, his eyes wide-yellow and terrifying. 

Weak and powerless, as though the last drop of magic had slipped away from him, Fox shielded his face with his arms. Through the crack, he saw claws sprung from the God's paw-like hands, now inches away from grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him to his Hell. This hadn't been a fair trial; they hadn't even tried to hear his side of the story.

"Wait," said the lady with the eagle mask. The calm way with which she spoke could only mean that she was the Goddess of Patience.

"Sister Patience, we don't have time for this," growled the lion-man.

"You better do—I noticed something... off about the boy." As she looked at him, Fox felt her gaze staring so deep into his soul he could hardly breathe.

"I smell it too," the bear grunted. He took a giant step forward and lowered his head, sniffing Fox.

Fox wobbled. If he could have passed right there, he would have. The bear's nose was as big as his head. A single tooth could pierce his skull. Perhaps he would let the God of Humility rip him to shreds; it would be true to his name: a quick end instead of spending all eternity being Wrath's toy.

"The stink of life," the bear growled. "I hear the flowing of his blood—he's breathing!"

"Alive?" oinked the pig.

"How can he be here?"

Fox couldn't tell who was talking. Rapid accusations followed, one after the other.

"He doesn't belong here. He shouldn't know of our existence yet."

"Then take him to the Hall."

"No, you've seen the scale. He belongs in the Hells!"

"But no living creature can enter the Hells."

"Nor the Hall."

The Gods bleated, screeched, roared, and howled; a chaotic turmoil of disbelief and fear of their exposure. Only the God of Sloth and the Goddess of Patience stood with their arms crossed, waiting for their siblings to come to their senses.

"He died," said the God of Sloth, speaking more slowly than before. He waited for his brothers and sisters to stop arguing. "He couldn't have come here unless his heart stopped beating."

"His heart stopped," said the Goddess, "and then it started again."

"The humans... they're reaching out to him," the dragon said pensively. "They found a way to breach the hollows. We must move them further away from the curtains of life and death."

"But what shall we do with him?" asked the rabbit. Fox couldn't figure out which Goddess she was. "It would be unfair to keep him here."

"He cannot betray our identities—such privilege is only reserved for the dead," hissed the Goddess of Envy.

"I know what to do to him."

Before Fox realised who spoke, the God of Wrath grabbed him firmly by the shirt. He tossed him with a might not even the world's greatest Air Magician could conjure.

Weightless and released from fear, Fox was flying through a dark and empty space for what felt like an eternity and a day. He experienced neither hunger nor thirst, no sleep to take him or pain to feel.

When he finally saw a light, he splashed down into a large body of water. Bracing for impact, he closed his eyes, but not for long. He was sinking, his muscles stiffening.

Up was the only way to go. Below lay only darkness, and the prospect of living among the God of Wrath. He had to take this chance. How many people could say they had lived through their trial, and ended up in neither the Seven Hells nor the Heavenly Hall?

He had been given a second chance.

He swam, clawing his way upwards, towards life, towards a future. He wanted to live, wanted to show the world that he was born of virtue instead of sin. He would be a good King, restore what he had destroyed, and aid those in need. No more war, only peace.

In old age, he would return to the Gods and watch the scales tip right instead of left.

Fresh air greeted him as he broke to the surface. Ahead was the sun; behind him stood the God and Goddess of Humility and Pride. They had it all wrong. Humility was a male bear, Pride a female dragon. He had to remember.

The bear roared, and dragon slapped her spikey tail into the water, creating a wave taller than Sunstone Castle.

Betrayal! was all Fox could think about when the wave engulfed him and swallowed him whole.

He shot up.

The breath he took was worth his weight in gold.

He was tall again; his limbs foreign once more. His head pounded, and the rest of his body ached. His eyes struggled to adjust to this new reality, so his other senses took over. 

He smelled old smoke, incense, and a penetrating perfume with a fragrance that stuck to him.

"Fox?" called a voice.

A blurry face with green eyes hovered over him.

"Hawk..." he struggled to speak. "I saw them—they were... there."

"Don't strain yourself. You've been out for six days."

"Six... there were six on each side," Fox said faintly. A weight was pulling at him; the God of Sloth pulling at his eyelids, calling him back to His realm. "Animals. A dragon and a bear, but the lion scares me most."

He heard Hawk speaking, but didn't register a single word. He sunk back into a deep sleep and murmured. "It was the eagle who saved me. I'm alive."