The fiery dawn of the new day crept through the crack in the stone, slowly illuminating his cell in a hue of deep red stones. His chains rattled as he crawled across the flattened straw. Fourteen stars he had carved into the stones with the piece of rock that had crashed down from the ceiling, one for each sunrise since Caracal had sent Katla to Sundale. He dug his rock into the wall and slid it down, then repeated it two more times. The fifteenth star was born. The Gods' cycle renewed. 

Surely today his master would have to return to him, bearing the news that he had defeated Half-Ear and Seb and that the obsidian throne in the big white castle in Sundale stood ready to receive its new King. To receive him.

Sure, he would mourn Seb, for the sake of their old friendship and the same blood running through their veins. At least for a few weeks; he was no monster. He was Fox, and foxes only killed when they needed to.

He rubbed the rock across the scratches of the chain around his wrist, more out of habit than anything else. With Katla back, he would be freed from the shackles, the iron around his neck and these four walls smelling of mould and sickness. He and his master would climb onto a horse and ride south together, claiming his crown. Since he was too young, Katla could rule in his name until he was sixteen, and he would do well. Merciless to those would question him yet as kind as the Goddess to those that love him.

The incoming red light turned orange, turned bright, before travelling across the floor then clambered up the other wall. The scratches on his chains deepened as the sharp counters of the rock blunted further. A jug of water and a breakfast of oatmeal was shoved through the iron slot.

Two hundred and ninety-four times footsteps came and went. Then he closed his eyes for a split second and lost count. Dinner was old bread and a hard, salty stick of something that used to be meat. Hungry foxes would even eat pigeons and rats; he wasn't picky.

Dusk left his cell like a dying candle, less and less bright each time he looked. Another day without Katla. Another night in the cold.

Sixteen stars. No news means no bad news. At least Caracal had stopped asking to bow before him. Next time that false King did, he would stick out his tongue.

Magic jolted through him, warming his muscles and veins. Sparks formed in the palms of his hands.

He pulled his chains apart. They jiggled.

But didn't break.

Seventeen stars. A piece of rock broke off—at least he had another sharp edge to work on his chains.

Magic danced on his fingertips. He yanked the chain, again and again.

He fell down in the straw, exhausted.

Eighteen stars. At least...

Worry settled in his gut, next to the ache of missing Katla. Why hadn't his master returned? He so wanted to show that the hole in his hand had almost healed, and then tell him that he never wanted Katla to go anywhere without him. He had enough of his master leaving. He was eleven, a Knight, and there were no more children in Moonstone Castle who wanted to play with him.

His magic failed. If he had simply obeyed the rules to not go down into that cave below the castle, then Felix wouldn't have pushed his little brother. Wolf would have still been skipping through the halls with Hawk unknowingly and unseeingly keeping an eye on him, the way mothers watch over their bastard children. King Ariel and Felix wouldn't have died; Caracal wouldn't be King. Katla would be here with him.

It all boiled back to him. Wrath boiling in his veins, he slammed the rock into his shackles.

No freedom. More pain.

That night he cried.

He startled awake, not knowing when the flashbacks to those dreadful moments had ended and the nightmares had begun. There was a giant standing in his cell.

"Morning, Fox."

It was a familiar voice. Still keeping the rock clutched in his hand, Fox wiped the sleep from his crusted eyes. The giant crouched down, and his face became visible. Blue eyes and a long well-kempt beard. Long blonde hair that stretched beyond his shoulders.

"Leo?" Fox croaked. He dropped the rock.

"Yeah,  sorry it took so long, lad. Wanted to come earlier but—" Leo darted a quick look behind him, then pulled a cloth from his cloak to give to him. "Doe misses you. Made you this—proper breakfast. Freshly baked too."

"Has Katla come home?"

"No, no news from him. It's..." Leo puckered his lips, then came a wavering smile. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"He has to. I miss him."

"Wish I could take you from here, bring you to The Antler, but it's the first place Cal would come looking for you."

Leo unwrapped the grey cloth, spreading the edges on the straw. A mouthwatering aroma filled Fox's nostrils as Leo unveiled a thick slice of blueberry pie.

Chains clanked together as Fox grabbed the pie with both hands and ate like he hadn't seen food in weeks. God of Gluttony be damned, it was sweeter than a summer's day. Warm, honeyed love strong enough to briefly make him forget just how badly his heart ached.

He picked every crumb from his clothes, even the ones that had fallen onto the floor. Then licked the berry juice from his lips and cheeks. 

Leo opened his hip flask and handed it to Fox. "Cal had me confiscating cows for the crown. Had Lax milking them—an hour ago, this was still in the udder."

The rich, slightly salted but also sweet flavour filled his mouth as Fox set his lips to the flask. The more he drank the milk, the more he craved it. The last drop came with disappointment that it was already gone.

He returned the now empty flask. "Why did Caracal take people's cows?"

"Because the people lacked the silverlings to pay my cousin." Leo nervously reattached the flask to his belt. He shook his head more out of disappointment than a battle with Wrath. "All of Mage Tower's treasury was drained to pay for supplies to restore the castle. It wasn't enough, so Cal increased taxes. Silverlings, livestock, food—Cal takes all he can get. Those too poor to part with their belongings now work slaves, eighteen hours a day mixing mortar and cutting stones. Doesn't matter if they are too old or too young... Call only wants glory. He's blinded by the God of Greed. Moondale is sucked dry from within. Shops are closing. Entire families live in the streets. Those that try to leave don't get very far." Leo bent his fingers in the shape of a blaster and made a low clicking noise. "I paid Doe's share so she can keep The Antler open. She works around the clock, feeding those who have nothing left with soup and pie. With Diligence on her side, she'll bake until either the silverlings or her energy have run out."

"You should be King instead of Caracal," Fox whispered.

Leo shook his head. "Even if I had the right blood running through my veins, I can't take what is rightfully Cal's—it's treason."

"It's not treason if he's a bad King," Fox argued. He crossed his chest, pouting. "He has locked me up here. He sent Katla away. And now he's stealing silverlings and cows and the life of people in this city, this country. I'm a Knight, and he's not my King."

"You're only alive because Cal needs you to conquer the south. You're a rightful heir—Silvermark is not so lucky to have a bastard, not anymore."

Fox wished he could go back and save Wolf after all, but that wasn't possible. He thought for a while. "Leo, Silvermark and The Greenlands used to be one country. What if I became King... I have royal blood on my father's side. You could rule in my stead in Moondale, and Katla in Sundale until I'm old enough to wear both crowns. It would solve everything."

"No, Fox, it's not that simple. For one, you would be committing the highest treason by killing the King. Then, since you are no direct heir,  you would have to marry into the royal family and you're too young by Silvermarker law. Furthermore, two other nations would have to recognise your power, and you would need to age four years in one night to even be considered seriously by any of them. It can't be done."

Fox lowered his chin to his chest for as far as the iron around his neck allowed him to. "I wish magicians could."

"Be glad you can't." Leo crawled closer. "But while I want neither your nor myself to venture near treason with a silver-coated bargepole, there is someone else. Someone older who the right ties and who loves our Dowager Queen. Always has."

"I like Queen Cobra. She gives sweet kisses," Fox said. He wasn't done giving up on the plan to become the King of Silvermark too.

Leo chuckled. "But this man... he really loves her, spends nearly all his time with her. She loves him back."

"Is she no longer sad that her husband and children died?"

"Of course, but Storm—"

"No, not Storm. I don't trust him. He wanted to take me to Ice."

"He didn't know Katla was on his way back. He wanted to keep you safe—your actions had just killed the male line of the royal family."

Fox swallowed. "But he just took me, against my will. He didn't even tell me what he was planning on doing. He—"

"It happened to you before. We took you, kicking and screaming, yet you came to like us too. You love Katla."

"That was different." His voice cracked. He couldn't explain why, but it was. "I want Katla to be here. He doesn't have to return with my throne waiting for me... I don't care about it if I can't have Katla."

"Your master is frying their butt as we speak, for you," Leo said with a wink. He rose to his feet, turning back into a giant. "Think about the possibility of Storm, Fox. I'll try to be back soon, but it's not easy. Bear's the only guard I really trust, and he doesn't get assigned down here too often. Be strong, lad. Soon the nightmare will be over."

"But when?"

He walked towards the door, sparing him one last glance. "Start by thinking happy thoughts."

Fox tried to do what Leo told him. He remembered the good times with Katla. The playfights in the meadow, smudging mud to each other's face and sticking out their tongues. Catching rats, bringing food to Katla's door last winter when he was sick and the brief smile he caught once in a fortnight. His master was more than his master. His best friend cloaked as both mentor and father. He was his everything and everyone.

"I want him back!" He yelled as he conjured sparks into his hands, over and over again, until the iron grew hot and his muscles cramped. 

At first, the guards barked at him, telling him to keep the noise down. Then two other men took over. They merely darted a look into his cell and scoffed.

Perhaps they were right to mock him, but if he succeeded, they would stop laughing.

It was a dreary day with little light when he carved the twenty-second star into the wall, then continued working the stone on his chains. He had tried to consider Storm as King, but he would rather have Katla home. In Sundale, with his master, Doe, Phoenix, and Leo by his side, he would never have to worry about Caracal again, wouldn't he?

He came close to a breakthrough, the tip of a needle short of an actual hole in the main pin around his right wrist. Then the guards stepped into his cell, picked him up by yanking at his chains and manhandled him through the castle.

"Where are you taking me? Is it Katla—is he back?"

They remained silent.

"Answer me! I'm of royal blood."

"You're a bastard," the taller of the two spat.

"Which is more than you are. I demand to know where I'm taken."

"Like you don't already know."

He breathed in and out, recognising the turn of the corners and the number of half-crumbled stairs they took. The throne room. There had been many stars without the false King begging for his loyalty. 

He could ask again. The answer was still no.

"Caracal is a Puddingbrain!" Fox shouted. "I'll never kneel or bow to him. I'm loyal to King Ariel."

"King Ariel is dead, boy."

A sweet, sickening smell hung in the throne room, like the white sheets in three out of the four lion-shaped fireplaces were covering up the remains of rotting rats. Caracal sat on the throne, spinning the blaster around his finger. He sat up straighter, eying Hawk, who looked away. She hiccuped. The skin below her eyes red and wet from crying.

Next to Caracal, on the second throne, a frail-looking woman plucked at her bluish grey dress, her eyes on the carpet beneath her. Queen because her husband called himself so, but she wasn't even half as gracious or beautiful as the woman standing behind her, appearing to hold hands with Storm. 

Fox remembered what Leo had told him. He's old enough. He has the ties to other royal families. And he loves the Queen. A better man for a better Silvermark? Fox wasn't sure. He just wanted Katla.

"About time you grow up a little, lad." Caracal stopped spinning the blaster. He pointed the muzzle at him. "That shrill yelling of yours gives me a headache. Strange that you're still so loyal to a man you're responsible for killing."

"He was a better King than you," Fox said.

Caracal pretended to yawn, tapping his hand to his lips. "Yeah, my brother was a great man. Killing women and children in a village far away. If it weren't for that two-faced master of yours, you wouldn't be standing here today. You'd be a pile of ash, long blown away by the wind. Like your mother and father."

"The Gods—"

"The Gods have nothing to do with this. They watch and revel as we, humans, blame our actions on them."

"That's not true!" he yelled.

"Maybe... who knows?" The man sounded drunk. He twirled the blaster around. "Kneel before me, boy."

Fox stayed put. Caracal knew his condition, and he didn't see Katla anywhere.

"Kneel."

Fox sniffed.

"Don't make me!" He shoved his hand over the backside of the blaster Something clicked. "I said kneel."

Fox bit his lip. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wished he hadn't told Hawk to never dig around in his mind again. She looked as though she knew something, something she was too scared to say. If only they could talk without being overheard.

"First, Katla," he said.

Sighing, Caracal lowered the blaster, dropped to his lap, then reached for the sidetable. In his hand, he now held a silver chain with tiny links leading to a black ring. Fox whimpered. One half of jade stone and the other half sapphire. The bond between a Jade Islander and an Ician. Katla and Cinder.

A sob erupted from Hawk. Both the Queen and Storm looked at her, pity in their eyes.

"Where is he? Did you steal that from him, like you steal cows and food from your people?"

"I need to eat, Fox. Keep up my strength while I think of the most economical ways to restore this castle to its former glory. Another disaster I inherited from my brother."

"I don't care. I want Katla!" Fox stomped his feet on the ground. The clanking of the fetters jangling echoed through the entire room.

"Do you want to see him? Really see him?" Caracal asked.

Fox knew what he was hinting at. "I told you... I'll kneel when you take me to Katla. In fact, I'll do anything you ask."

"Caracal, you're cruel. He's still very young," Hawk said. She brought her crooked hand to her neck, her skin riddled with scars.

"I didn't ask your opinion, Grandmaster," Caracal said through his teeth. "I'm giving him what he asks, what he's practically begging for."

"He doesn't understand."

"Soon he shall."

"Not this way." It was Queen Cobra who spoke up. She looked right at him, compassion and sympathy in her voice and eyes. "Your master—the Greenlanders got to him."

Fox shook his head, his limbs trembling. "They got to him. But how...? Is he hurt? Do we need to free him?"

"He didn't make it," she said softly.

"No." Fox shook his head, his limbs trembling. "You're wrong. He can't be... He's the best Fire Magician that ever lived. He's—"

"Dead, rotting meat," Caracal said. The new Queen looked away as he fetched a brown burlap bag from the side of his throne. The sickening smell grew stronger. 

A fist-sized lump prevented Fox from swallowing. The brown spots on the fabric looked like dried-up blood. But it couldn't be.

"I don't believe you. That can't be Katla... the bag is too small to fit a human."

"The Greenlanders are inventive."

Caracal threw the sack his way. It bounced on the carpet then rolled towards him, halting inches from Fox's feet. 

Sour oatmeal rose at the back of his throat. Holding his breath, he hunched over the bag and choked down a sob. A lock of hair had fallen out; all black, not white. 

That couldn't be his master. Even if Katla got caught, he would have fought back.

Fox crouched down to uncover this deception. He stumbled over the fetters. His chains were in the way of free movement.

Caracal let out a low chuckle. "It's no kneeling, but you're getting there."

"Caracal, don't make him do this," Hawk said.

"You have no voice, Hawk. You killed my brother and nephews. It's only out of courtesy for the Mage Council that you're here."

Fox's chest hitched as he tugged at the burlap. Tears streamed down his face as he looked straight into the brown, bloodshot balls that resembled more shrivelled prunes than eyes. There was no life left in them. A trick. Not Katla.

One small freckle just above the left eyelid. It broke his world.

His heart stopped momentarily, then it pumped with rage and fury. "No, it's not him! It's not. It's just not."

Except that it was. Katla was dead. Gods, they should have been on a ship to the Islands together, or they should have still been here in Moondale, in the cottage. His master drawing and he playing with the flame in his hand.

"Half-Ear Tom wants you to know that your beloved Katla was knocked out by a Greenlander girl travelling with a band of pirates." Caracal sounded bored.

Green sparks ignited on Fox's fingertips. If Alex were here, he would burn her. He should have let her sink along with that ship. All her life she had looked down on him, but no more. He would get her. He would kill her.

"Sundaler army chained him real easy, like a newly born lamb. If you ask me, your master had a death-wish."

Fox yelled with a power he never knew he possessed. His vocal cords ripped until he could only squeak and sob. "That's a lie. He would fight for me. He would..."

"Really?" Caracal smacked. "Hawk, was that old boyfriend of yours a fighter?"

Slowly, she shook her head.

"He was the best Fire Magician in the world," Fox argued. He clenched his fists, stopping the magic before it drained him completely.

"He still died in front of thousands of witnesses, one of them a girl in armour. A girl..." Caracal cackled. "The Greenlanders have gone mad. Half-Ear also writes that your master choked on his own blood for two whole minutes before the final arrow brought relief, fired by your own dear brother."

Fox pounded his fist on the floor, so powerful that a flame flickered for three whole heartbeats. The chain around his left wrist slipped open. 

The pin had broken.

He hid it. Caracal didn't notice. "I understand your battle with our Gods, Fox. I really do. The Greenlanders are monsters. My brother was gathering an army, but why wait until all of them are trained? You're a strong, capable magician seeking revenge, now rather than later. We can start a war, together, you and me. All you have to do is pledge your allegiance."

"I hate the Greenlanders. I hate the people that used to look down on me yet called me their friend." Fox's voice was hoarse. He felt light in the head, like it wasn't really him standing here. "But I hate you more, Caracal. You're a horrible man, and I'll never bow to you!"

Caracal had his mouth open, his tongue pushed forward. "Throw the boy back into his cell."

"I'm not going back there!" 

Fox jumped up and raised his free hand towards Caracal. A big fire that would roast this man until all of Moondale could smell that he had killed the false King.

The man scampered to the back of his throne, fear widening his eyes. "Guards!"

A short flare burst from Fox's hand, then smoke. 

What? It failed. His magic had failed. How?

The footsteps of the guards came near. He had to do something and quickly too, something without magic.

His eyes fell on the blaster that had slipped between Caracal's thigh and the throne's silver arm. 

Fox ran like there were no fetters on his feet. He stumbled over the iron, barely managed to keep his balance. He stretched his arm, wanting the blaster more than anything in the world.

Caracal reached for it too.

Then the blaster flew into the air, towards him. Fox didn't understand how or why, but curled his hand around the metal grip then held it against Caracal's head. His finger on the trigger.

The footsteps stopped. Female screaming filled the throne room. Not Cobra, the new Queen.

Caracal grabbed Fox's wrist. "You want to kill me, don't you, boy? Shoot then. Add me to the pile of corpses you're responsible for. Wolf, Ariel, Felix, Katla... Had you kneeled to me when I asked you to, your precious master would still have been alive. I could have given you everything, boy. Everything." He added in a whisper, "Put that down, boy. It's not yet too late."

Something cracked inside of him. His muscles contracting simultaneously then shaking along with the waves of grief coursing through him. Tears blurred his vision. One small, almost insignificant movement away from blasting the false King to oblivion. He didn't even need to see Caracal's hairy face. 

A single click.

Easier than magic. Over in a heartbeat.

Then why was it the hardest thing he had ever done?