Later that evening, after dropping a triumphant Ellia off at the Daycare, I decided to take a walk.
I needed air. I needed to clear my head.
I walked toward the Temple of the Stars, a massive open-air structure in the center of the capital. It was usually crowded with pilgrims, but tonight, due to the upcoming festival preparations, it was quiet.
I walked up the marble steps, looking at the statues of the Founders. The Lion. The Tiger. The Wolf.
And the empty pedestal where the Fox should be.
"Irony is a cruel architect," a voice said.
I froze.
The air around me went cold. Not the winter cold of the estate. The absolute, suffocating cold of the Void.
I turned around.
Standing in the shadow of a pillar was a man.
He was tall, wearing a charcoal grey suit that looked expensive and modern—too modern for this fantasy world. He wore a fedora hat pulled low, hiding his eyes. He leaned against the stone, smoking a thin cigarette that smelled like burning ozone.
