Dark plumes of steam billowed high above the boiling ruins of Inari, visible from the nearest Vulpen Island, Crescent.

  Named for its shape, Crescent was a jungle of ancient trees with jagged cliffs running along its back like a spine. Two urban centers resisted the jungle's hegemony: a marketplace on the harbor and the slope leading up to Castle Moondial. Built and carved into the stone at the highest point on the island, Castle Moondial towered over the rest of Crescent and cast a long shadow on the ocean below. According to legend, the castle was built by the foxfolk ages ago. But the foxfolk all died with Inari.

  Inside the castle palisade, a crowd cheered with wild enthusiasm as two combatants fought on stage. Above the crowd, in a shaded balcony built into the castle wall, Steward Arthur Avalyn watched his son Rafael compete.

  Raf was Arthur's pride and joy. Since before he was born, Raf had been groomed for greatness. Wizened scholars from Garden University couldn't best him at games of strategy. At only fourteen, Raf was a masterful fighter. Though his opponent was larger, older, and stronger, Rafael danced around him, spinning his staff and bringing the audience to rapturous cheers. Both fighters were shirtless, wore tan leggings, and wielded a quarterstaff. While his opponent was barrel-chested, muscular, and towering, Raf had a slight frame, lithe and nimble. Arthur thought his son resembled a hummingbird fighting a bear. But Arthur had total confidence in his little hummingbird.

  High above, the sun was bright in a sparsely clouded sky. The air was hot and humid. The mighty ocean breeze was mercifully refreshing on Arthur's skin.

  Poor Raf must be sweating buckets down there, no shade, doing backflips, Arthur thought.

  Arthur loved his daughters, too, of course. Of course. But Arthur only had one son, and Raf was destined for greatness.

  Arthur wanted nothing more than to watch his son compete and win–for there was no doubt in Arthur's mind that his son was a winner–but Arthur's duties as Steward of Crescent demanded his attention.

  Captain Reynard, Arthur's most intimate adjutant, was escorting a dangerous and unfamiliar man up the steps to the shaded balcony where Arthur sat with his family–his two daughters and his mother.

  "Sorry to interrupt, Steward," Reynard began. "This is Good Brother Timothy. He arrived this morning from Garden City with pressing business."

  Arthur stood to greet the man, as befit a church official. "Welcome to Crescent, Good Brother. We're honored by your presence," said Steward Avalyn rotely. Captain Reynard withdrew to observe.

  Brother Timothy was short and gaunt, with strawberry blonde hair and black robes. A simple-looking man, except for the eye. His left eye was a vertical slit, like a cat's eye. It had a soul-chilling effect, like swallowing ice on an empty stomach. As he shook the man's hand, goosebumps rose on Arthur's arms.

  "The pleasure is all mine, Steward Avalyn," said Timothy with a grin, and Arthur believed it. Expectancy lit Brother Timothy's face. The man was ecstatic, eerily so. He held Arthur's hand for an unnerving length of time, smiling all the while.

  "Your… arrival takes me by surprise, Good Brother. Of course, accommodations will be prepared. Perhaps you wish to retire before we discuss this new change in policy?" Steward Avalyn offered, hoping the eerie man might leave so Arthur could cheer for his son. The audience groaned in unison, but Arthur stayed focused.

  "No, not at all. I insist on watching the show," said Timothy.

  Arthur looked at his eldest daughter and tilted his head. Without a word or reaction, Morgan vacated her seat and moved to sit opposite her little sister.

  Timothy dropped into Morgan's now-vacant seat with pomp, still grinning. "I've been looking forward to this conversation. I'm here to inform you that the Lord Father assigned me to be your new Holy Advisor and your children's new governor."

  Arthur's response was immediate and well-rehearsed. "Of course, I bow to the wisdom of the Holy Father. Might I ask, why now?" Steward Avalyn chose his words carefully. "I only ask that I might serve Him better."

  The good brother remained silent, staring into Avalyn's eyes with a grin. Arthur glanced toward his son and saw Rafael in the corner.

  "Dutiful of you," Timothy quipped finally, demanding Arthur's attention again. "It's the Lord Father's wish that all five Islands of Vulpex be consolidated into a single domain with a single emissary. Rafael is being considered for that position. I'm here to determine if he is deserving and, if he is, advise him."

  "That's–wow! That's wonderful. We'll prepare your room for an extended stay, then?"

  "I suspect I'll stay here for the rest of my life," Timothy grinned.

  Am I being paranoid, or did that sound threatening? Arthur wondered.

  Captain Reynard's voice magicked in Arthur's ear, "He's trying to provoke a reaction out of you. We need to find out what he knows. I'll send Apple to spy on him."

  "Excellent," Arthur muttered, but his mind was preoccupied. Good Brother Timothy was a snake, and Arthur just welcomed that snake into his home! Not that he had any choice. Refusing an emissary of the Holy Father was suicide. The only surviving option was gratitude and humility. He hated it. Timothy's smug smile burned into Arthur's mind like an ugly brand.

  Arthur heard the audible crack of broken bones, and the audience groaned, "Ooooo," in empathetic pain. Terrified, he abandoned the conversation and turned again to his son.

  Raf stood in the center of the square, arms raised high, smiling widely, sweat rolling down his body, his black hair shining in the sunlight. Meanwhile, the crowd chanted Rafael's name. He had won.

  -8-

  A few seats down, Gwendolyn "Lyn" Avalyn sat with her familiar, a capuchin monkey named Apple; both glancing nervously at the unfamiliar good brother.

  Apple told Lyn not to worry, but the stranger had a malevolent aura about him that made Apple's fur rise. Something about the creepy smile that never left his face.

  'The tournament is over,' Lyn signed. 'Let's go play in the garden.'

  Apple was also eager to get away from the unnerving stranger, so she told Morgan where they'd be, then followed Lyn as she snuck quietly away. No one would question their sudden absence. It was Lyn's prerogative to disappear for hours at a time. She was a wild, solitary child, prone to emotional outbursts. Most of the castle staff ignored her. And though her family loved her unreservedly, they were so busy with matters of state and duty that they rarely had time for Lyn.

  Consequently, Apple was more than simply Lyn's servant and interpreter. She was Lyn's best friend, her ever-present shadow, and even a surrogate mother. It was a responsibility Apple cherished dearly, not that she had any real choice. When Godfather Adam heard news that Emma Avalyn had died giving birth, and that her daughter had been born deaf, He created a familiar to be Lyn's lifelong companion. Steward Avalyn graciously declined, but the Godfather insisted. Apple would be Lyn's teacher and interpreter, end of discussion. Steward Avalyn could only offer his gratitude for such a generous gift. After all, no one else on the island of Crescent could afford a familiar.

  Apple's filed claws clicked on the stone steps as she followed Lyn downstairs. They crossed the courtyard to reach the castle garden, which was lush and meticulously maintained, with tall trees and an array of native flowers. Bees and butterflies filled the air and flew out of reach of the island princess.

  Lyn was in high spirits again, far from the unnerving, smiling stranger. She spun in circles and laughed, basking in her sweet return to freedom and relative solitude. The bright sun made her short black hair shine like onyx. Lyn's dress, a formal blue-green skirt, spun around her, aloft in the breeze, as if it might lift and carry her away, a flower petal on the wind.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She stopped and looked at Apple; a pure, child-like grin lit her face. 'Let's play Hide and Seek,' she demanded. 'Close your eyes and count to 20, then come find me.'

  Hide and Seek was one of Apple's favorite games. Despite her vast intelligence and magical sophistication, she was still an animal and loved to hunt and play. They played several rounds, taking turns, finding each other in trees, behind bushes, and under garden supplies. In time they grew hungry, and Lyn decided they should sneak into the kitchen for supplies.

  Stealing food from the kitchen was another game they often played. They knew every corner of Castle Moondial, every secret path and shortcut–or at least, they thought they did. One such hidden passage led to the kitchen.

  Lyn and Apple waited patiently until the guards had passed, then darted down the hallway, stopping abruptly to open a small grate and crawl into the small, dark opening in the wall. It was built to allow fresh air to flow to the deepest rooms of the castle, but they were small enough to fit. As she crawled on her hands and knees, Lyn calmly brushed a mouse aside and more than one spider out of her hair.

  They turned several times, having memorized the labyrinthine paths of this particular crawl space long ago. Finally, they saw the lights of the kitchen shining before them, like daylight at the end of a tunnel. They arrived at another grate and peeked through it, looking out into a spacious kitchen lit by an enormous fire.

  The cooks and kitchen staff were hard at work preparing the feast Steward Avalyn had ordered for Rafael's celebration. Delicious smells of cooked meats, vegetables, and sweet and savory desserts filled the air, making Apple's mouth water. Apple had her eyes on a fruit torte, and Lyn pointed at a pecan pie with a greedy expression. But, of course, they couldn't simply grab their spoils. They needed a proper diversion.

  Together, they carefully removed the grate. They were beneath a chopping table. The kitchen staff were all busy at their tasks.

  Now comes the challenging part, Apple thought.

  If they failed, Lyn's father would be furious and send them to bed without dinner. It was all or nothing. Apple would provide the distraction while Lyn stole the food. Apple waited patiently, carefully choosing her moment. Once she was sure no one was looking, Apple dashed out from their hiding spot to slide under the center table where the chefs were preparing food. It was cramped, even for her, so she crawled on her belly to the other side of the room and waited once more for the perfect moment to strike.

  Several minutes passed, but her opportunity presented itself in the form of a young assistant. He entered the kitchen with his arms full of clean pots and pans. He couldn't see the ground at his feet, so Apple jumped out from under the table and screeched in agony as if he had stepped on her tail. The young man jumped and hollered in surprise, dropping one of the pans in his arms, making a loud clamor, and surprising the entire kitchen.

  "Be careful!" Apple yelled at the poor boy, who turned bright red in the face and profusely apologized, looking confused and a little scared. Apple felt a stab of pity for the boy, who would no doubt be reprimanded, but not too severely. She ran out the door before anyone could say another word and sprinted down the hallway to where Lyn would surely be waiting with their spoils.

  She found Lyn next to the grate opening with a mouthful of pecan pie, two fruit tortes, and an enormous grin on her pecan-smeared face. Lyn even nabbed a fistful of caramel crickets, a favorite of Apple's, and together they munched happily, laughing all the while.

  "Apple!" Someone shouted. Apple looked up to see Captain Reynard marching toward them with purpose. At first, Apple thought they would be reprimanded for stealing from the kitchens, but Reynard didn't seem to care about their stash of desserts.

  "I have a task for you," he said. Apple began interpreting Captain Reynard's words, but he told her to stop. This would be a secret mission, and Lyn didn't need to know. Apple felt confused and uncomfortable but did as she was told, as always.

  But in all her life, Apple had never failed to interpret anyone's speech for Lyn. Not doing so now surely felt like a terrible betrayal. Everyone ignored Lyn from time to time, but never Apple. The young girl reacted in anger, charging Captain Reynard and beating him with her tiny fists, but he hardly seemed to notice. The captain simply grabbed her arm and held her away from him, firmly, not with cruelty, but without question. Lyn tried to break away, but his grip was like steel. She jerked violently in vain, then, from the bottom of her lungs, she summoned an angry, frustrated shriek.

  Captain Reynard waved his hand and cast a spell to silence the girl, then resumed addressing Apple, ignoring Lyn. Apple watched helplessly, knowing Lyn felt violated, ignored, and silenced.

  Rage and passion swelled in Lyn's tiny body until it found a new form of release. All the candles and lights around them began to brighten. When Lyn realized she was releasing her fury, she doubled her efforts to punish Apple and Reynard. The lights became blinding. Reynard raised his arms to cover his eyes, but still, it shined through. Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped, and Lyn collapsed in exhaustion.

  A full minute passed as Apple and Reynard blinked the stars out of their eyes, having been briefly blinded by the light's intensity. Once he could see again, Reynard removed the spell silencing Lyn and carried her up to bed. Then he examined her as if seeing her for the first time. Finally, Reynard pulled a chair next to Lyn's bed and began to sign directly to her, something he had rarely done before.

  'I am impressed,' Reynard signed. 'Not many humans can wield magic, let alone 8-year-olds.'

  Lyn managed a weak smile.

  'You depleted your mana when you brightened the lights. Sleep is what you need now. When you wake up, maybe I'll teach you how to do magic properly so you don't exhaust yourself.'

  But Lyn was already asleep. As the captain left the little witch to rest, her familiar Apple snuck out the window, as she had been instructed.

  The perigee moon illuminated the outside wall. Apple leapt from branch to stone to branch along a complicated path. On the docks below, Apple saw bustling crowds of partiers celebrating the occasion. Apple shimmied along strategically placed foliage, then dropped behind the cliff wall into a secret tunnel.

  The entrance was cramped and riddled with dead ends, but Apple knew the correct path. She had done this several times. She climbed until her tiny claws grabbed hold of a ledge and pulled herself up.

  A thin strand of light shone from behind a wall. A tiny pinhole revealed the inside of the room, elegantly decorated, a crackling fireplace warming the air. Apple saw Brother Timothy standing in front of a large, ornate mirror. But instead of a reflection shining back at him, it was the Father Almighty himself, Adam. Apple began to tremble.

  "The Avalyns are downstairs celebrating Rafael's victory in the Perigee tournament. Presumably, they'll be at it all night, so we aren't likely to be interrupted." Apple was listening to the steely-smooth voice of Brother Timothy.

  Holy Father Adam didn't respond. His ancient face betrayed nothing.

  Brother Timothy continued in a slow drawl. "I contacted you because when I landed on Crescent, I sensed Fae magic immediately. Spellworks permeate the island. I can't determine the nature of the spells, but I can smell them in the air. This castle reeks of it."

  At this declaration, Adam took interest. "Remnants, perhaps, hiding out on an island at the farthest corner of the world." The Holy Father mused. "The loneliness must be unbearable. Miserable creatures. I should have been more thorough."

  "Well, you certainly tried your best," said Timothy derisively. The audacity! To speak so flippantly to the Holy Father! "But evidence of fae magic isn't definitive proof that the Avalyns are conspiring against you."

  Adam paused for a moment. "There's a familiar hiding in the wall, spying on our conversation. Seize it."

  Brother Timothy turned to face the wall where Apple was hiding. She dived for the tunnel, but inexplicably, her body lurched sideways and broke through the wall. She screamed and squirmed, but all the same, she landed in Timothy's calm, outstretched hand. Timothy's other hand grabbed her head to snap her neck.

  Instead, he turned her to face her maker. Holy Father Adam considered her with dispassion. The jewel in Father Adam's crown grew bright like a beacon, and Apple relaxed. She could neither move nor speak.

  "That's better," said Adam. "Now we know they're afraid. Why else would they send a spy?"

  "More to the point, what do you intend to do about it? Shall I kill it?" Timothy asked. Adam was silent. The jewel in his crown glowed horribly.

  "No need," Godfather said, finally. "Fix the wall and send the familiar back, unharmed. Feign ignorance." Adam looked into Apple's eyes. The jewel shined ever brightly, and Adam's orders flowed into her mind like the foundation of truth.