Soul Searching

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail’s pulse hammered in his ears, nearly in rhythm with Silvie’s song. The clash of light and shadow rippled through the dreamscape, every note bursting against the Wolf’s blade like shrapnel made of pure color. The ground beneath him still felt soft and unsteady, but his paws dug in, gaining trust in its support amidst the bright pink abyss beyond.

Something in the air then shifted. The forge-heat that had stirred within him since the ritual now roared to life. His paw tightened, and in a sudden flare of light, a blade bloomed into being.

A double-edged broadsword, glowing bright as hot steel just pulled from the fire. It shimmered white-hot and cherry red, shedding flakes of scale that vanished before they reached the ground. The hilt felt cool against his pads, but power thrummed through its grip like a heartbeat. His old tunic shimmered and reformed into light armor, olive green trimmed in black and burgundy. It fit like it had been fitted perfectly for him.

His paw trembled, disbelief at the sudden materialization of such a fantastical weapon. His friends had done the same moments ago, but seeing it and feeling it in paw were two entirely different things. He exhaled, slow and steady, just like Kaii had taught him before the duel that never came. Feet shoulder-width. Weight balanced. Conserve energy.

Then the Wolf lunged at Silvertongue, locking him into their deadly foray.

Swifttail met him from the side. The molten blade screamed through the air and struck the black sword with a burst of sparks that split the pink horizon. The force rattled up his arm, but he held fast, pivoting off his back paw and dodging with minimal effort the way Darragh had shown him. Each motion left an afterimage, a burning arc of molten air that flared and slashed outward, cutting trails of fire through the dream.

He felt the world begin to hold him more firmly now, the springy false ground hardening beneath each step, meeting his conviction. The fear was still there, whispering, but he shaped it into his resolve to fight.

He drove forward once again, sword sweeping in a wide crescent. The molten arc it cast flew free, colliding with the Wolf’s flank in a cascade of sparks and black smoke. Swifttail planted his paws, blade raised high as the glow from his strikes rung them both like a struck anvil. His breath came fast, but steady. The heat of the blade painted his fur in flickering amber, the blade still perfect despite the impacts that surely would have deformed the hot metal with ease.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and felt his confidence surge. Darragh was there, sailing closer in a pea-green boat, shouting across the pink expanse with fearless bravado. Kaii stood poised a few strides away, eyes glacial and focused, his control of the realm terrifyingly precise...But there was no sign of Finn.

The absence struck him harder than any blow. His gut tightened, but he forced himself to trust the kit’s wit and courage. Turning back to the fight, he steadied his blade, molten light reflecting in his eyes.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue gratefully jumped out of the way as Swifttail interceded, taking a chance to catch his breath and grab his lute once more. The Wolf had been expecting this. He deflected the first swing, but not the second. He grimaced as the molten blade dug into his flesh, cauterizing the wound as it simultaneously cut into his abdomen. There were no witty remarks from The Wolf, no taunting or goading. His eyes gleamed with malice as his fur burned and singed, the horrible stench permeating the air. Though, as The Wolf was struck, the whole world flickered, for merely a second, the painfully pink landscape disappearing and replaced with an infinite impossibly dark abyss, before returning back to the way it was.

The Wolf stepped back, raising his own broadsword, his muzzle curled back into a snarl. The blade pulsated with black energy. He lunged forward, trading blows with Swifttail now.

Silvertongue's eyes widened in alarm, and he started to strum his lute, these notes flying out not towards The Wolf, but Swifttail and Kaii. As they reached his companions, they bumped against their bodies and dissipated. Swifttail and Kaii felt a surge of strength, as if their abilities within the dream realm were being enhanced by Silvertongue's song.

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

While every other beast was working on their thing, Kaii was working on something... exceptional.

He could harness he lightning itself within this realm. It seemed as if the only limitation... was his understanding of things.

So natural conclusion came to his head. He understood the process of understanding. Could he conjure it and enter a loop? How far could he go into this endless spiral that was reason? Most importantly, how vastly he could utilise it? He started digging into the matter, making his own understanding a result of conjured understanding. Within seconds, Kaii processed deeper and deeper truths about the universe, existence and this realm itself. He could define each beast's life by an equation written at their birth, making a function of it over time a representation of beast's placement in reference to their birthplace.

That and much more was now poured into one mind that could process it harmlessly. Any beast would go insane... but Kaii long ago did, and then died. The Kaii that was then born knew no such thing as insanity. The world is after all a fantasy that only each beast can process independently.

While Darragh was coming over on the boat he had manifested, Kaii inherently grasped onto that idea. Both were beasts who sought understanding of the world, only in different ways. Darragh defined the universe by words. What was it that Kaii used to define things? Numbers? Terms? Definitions? The answer came as the final revelation he had needed.

Everything was made of information, it was the basis of any existence after all.

And when Kaii reopened his eyes, he could no longer see this realm. Instead, he saw a see of endless, vibrating strings. They went beyond and logical arrangement, overlapping, crossing and passing through one another, being infinite, yet defined in each tiniest speck of the universe, all vibrating, yet each differently.

The Marble fox couldn't see his friends anymore, nor the Wolf. Instead he perceived clumps of strings that he could identify through their vibrations. Their totals made for every single particle, thought, process, cell and anything else that made Kaii's friends. He finally could identify where Finnian was and what he was up to this whole time, simply looking at the information of it.

When the Information of Silvie, interacted with Information of a Lute, the following vibrations resonated with strings of Information of Kaii and Information of Swift, slightly adding and modifying the frequency of vibrations on strings that defined their physical attributes.

Kaii could of course fight physically. But he opted to do something else. He wasn't yet capable of modyfing the information of beasts with adequate precision to solve them, concepts and physical processes were closer to that.

But even then, he could simply try something. He mentally reached to string that vibrated strongly, recognising them as defining of the world around him, simply from the fact they were affected when the Wolf got hit, resulting in massive changes to other strings that have defined the events around the group.

Then he quelled their vibrations.

And the world around them collapsed.

What happened when The Wolf was hit was nothing compared to what was going on now. This world was no being ripped apart from their master, collapsing upon itself in caleidoscope of colours, shapes, multi-dimensional figures and horrors as well as... emotions.

The Plan was simple here. To slay the wolf wouldn't solve the issue. Not when this world existed.

Kaii was now searching for mental scissors to those strings.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

The Wolf took a swing at Swifttail, but that was when the world started to fall apart. "What!?" He looked around in alarm. "What, what, what?! No! My playground! Not my perfect playground!" He stepped back. "I worked so hard on it, and you're destroying it!"

He looked over at Kaii, snarling. "INTERLOPER!" He rushed forward, sword raised, but he was suddenly pelted by music notes, as Silvertongue had taken up his lute and went on the offensive once more.

"Agh, you little shit!" He whipped around and glared at Silvertongue. He glowered and stared at all of them, before grimacing and clutching his chest. The vibrant pink skyline was stripped away, the block-like towers collapsing, and the platforms starting to crumble away. As the world changed, so too did The Wolf. His regal clothing ripped away, and his body started to morph, his frame getting larger and his muscles morphed. He growled and hunched over, saliva dripping from his lips. He stood up, easily standing ten feet tall. He grinned, his golden eyes glowing as his true monstrous form was revealed.

"Do you not know who you're dealing with? If you don't want to play anymore, FINE. We won't." He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the 'playground' was gone. The group was in an infinite black void, and there was no solid ground beneath their feet. They all entered a freefall, save for Darr, who was safe on his floating boat.

"Not to worry, Master Harper! I'll be back for you!" The Wolf yelled as he fell along with the others.

The Wolf turned his attention to Silvertongue, Swifttail, and Kaii. He didn't know where the youngest one went. That one would be dealt with later.

"This realm is MINE to control!" He yelled out. "Not yours! I am the one in control here! I have nolded it to my will, and it won't be ripped away by some mortal!" As the Wolf was raging, Kaii noticed that some of the black void was stripped away, and there was dim blue light bleeding in. An illusion within an illusion, there was a layer beyond this one as well.

Silvertongue was flailing, looking down and expecting to see ground any second. He looked around, and he grabbed for his lute. He started to pluck the strings, playing a new tune different from the previous two. Notes flew forth once more, these ones shooting out under his companions and linking together, trying to slow their descent.

The Wolf shot a glare at Silvertongue. "ENOUGH!" He roared, clenching his fists as his body started to morph once more, his limbs twisting in an unnatural fashion and his fur turning into feathers, and a massive golden eagle was flying where The Wolf had just been. "This ends, NOW!" The Eagle spoke in the Wolf's voice.

With an animalistic shriek, The Wolf Eagle dived at Silvertongue. Silvertongue held up his lute, but the Eagle grabbed the lute in it's claws and yanked it away, tossing it aside as it sunk it's claws into Silvertongue's chest. Silvertongue turned away just as the Eagle was lunging at him with it's beak, and the Eagle ripped off a large portion of his shoulder with it's beak, blood spraying everywhere.

The Eagle released Silvertongue, and from the wounds in his chest, black tendrils seemed to materialize and wrap around him, just like he appeared in the real world, and Silvertongue started to get dragged down much faster than the others, the fox spiraling uncontrollably as he was slipping in and out of conciousness. Was there a layer of dreaming beyond the Dream Realm? He didn't want to find out, but he was fading fast, his body limp and his arm completely numb.

The Eagle turned towards the others with a bloody beak. "Who's next?!"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

The foxkit glanced up to find his friends engaged in combat -- and let out a cry of helpless despair. There Swift was, battling on the front lines with a magnificent molten sword, slinging glowing slag about the playground. Finn felt about his waist for his small sheath knife, the only weapon he had at paw... but what use would it be against a broadsword?

Now Finn was an imaginative kit, but you couldn't just walk up and demand he dream something like that! Performing on the spot was a mite difficult. The foxkit clenched his fists and hunkered down on the little pink box, quivering with effort as he tried to imagine harder. Little visions began to manifest in his thoughts, but before they could come to fruition, the crate he perched on began to crumble beneath him.

When he looked up, a tidal wave of darkness was in the middle of sweeping across the sky. Silvie was locked in the eagle's talons, his gaping wound a stark crimson against the void. And like a ragdoll, he was tossed aside. "SILVIE!!" he called out, but to no avail. Before he could jump off the crate, it had completely vanished.

Fear seized the kit as he started to fall, and the world ground to a halt. Silv was tumbling out of control, the others were falling -- and there he was, still in his street clothes, helpless. In futile desperation, he reached up to grasp at a corner of the dissolving crate, but his paw only caught dust. This was the part he should have woken up -- but the dream held him fast as he fell in slow motion.

Out of the darkness, a familiar paw lunged out, and caught him by the wrist. "Gotcha! Where do y'think yer goin'?" came a kind voice.

"D-dad!?" came the stunned reply.

"You think I'm just gonna letcha fall like that?"

As if swimming through dense water, Finn hauled himself towards his father and threw his arms around his neck. The older todd held him tightly for a moment, only pulling away for a moment to look at his son. "Working in the infirmary? True son of the navy, so I heard!" he remarked, thumbing away the kit's tears. Finn laughed through his sob, and buried his face into his father's shoulder.

"Easy little one. There'll be time for that later. Your friends need you right now. You remember the misertross gulls?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Y'reckon you could dream that up, and catch the bard?"

"I... ...yes, b-but!"

"I know. I know. It's like Swift told ya. It ain't fair. Never is. But it's up to you Finny, just like it was up to me. He needs you. Will you answer the call?"

Finn swallowed hard, and looked down. Silvie was so far in the distance that it seemed helpless at this point. As if he knew his son's thoughts, the older todd nodded. "Felt that way for me, too. Don't give up, Finn. You just gotta try." Finn looked back in bewilderment, and nodded hesitantly.

Mr. Brightfur smiled, and took a long look at the kit. "Dream hard, Finn. I'll always be here for you." And with that, he planted his foot into Finn's hip. With a twisting motion, he pulled the young foxkit over his head by his wrist, and threw him with all his might towards Silvie.

Everything was a blur as Finn plummeted towards the bard. The wind rushing past his face blew the tears out of his eyes, and at a terrible speed, he tore past Swifttail, Kaii, and the eagle. But even at this rate, he wouldn't catch up to Silvie in time. With a grunt of frustration, Finn's shoulders bulged and contorted, shirt swelling across his back as a massive pair of angelic wings grew beneath. They strained against the fabric, until they burst threw it, and spread out majestically. With a powerful swoop of his wings, Finn accelerated into a dive.

His paw reached out to his friend, fingers straining as he reached out to the unconscious fox. Controlling his speed was difficult to manage -- too fast, and they'd collide with enough force to knock them both senseless. Finn flared his wings out as he got closer, and lunged out once, twice as he tried to seize Silv. He was so close, just a little further! With a third swing of his paw, he caught Silvie by the scruff.

"G-gotcha! Hah! Yeah, how's it feel to be the one scruffed for once!" he said triumphantly, holding on tight to the bard. Tugging him up closer, Finn looped his arms under Silvie's, and slowed their out of control descent with several powerful flaps of his wings. Finn held the fox close to his chest, and looked up at the beasts falling towards him. He had a few moments to work some of his magic, still.

The wound was foul and dark -- but the foxkit's paw began to glow a warm green, and he placed it firmly over the wound. "H-hey, c'mon back Silv, we only got a moment before they're on us!" he urged. The black tendrils squealed and screeched like leeches as they squeezed between Finn's fingers, escaping into the void and dissipating before the magic could banish them forever.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue's wounds started to heal as Finnian worked his... magic. However it was working. The cuts started to mend, the claw marks on his chest disappearing quickly underneath his fur. That was the easy part. The hard part was the shoulder. There was a whole chunk of his shoulder missing. Finnian's paw became brighter, and the missing flesh began to... regenerate- flesh, muscle, and sinew starting to stitch itself back together!? This was enough for Silvertongue to snap awake from his semi-conscious state, letting out a sharp yelp of pain.

He looked up, eyes widening in disbelief at what he was seeing before him. "Finny!" He laughed incredulously. "You're like a little angel! A cherub!"

He cracked a grin, before wincing again and looking at his shoulder. It was about fully healed at this point, but his shirt was ruined. "You're a miracle worker, Finn." He said between gritted teeth. "You really are an angel."

Getting a sense of his bearings, Silvertongue looked upward to see the Wolf- no, the Eagle, swooping at Swifttail and Kaii, taunting them all the while.

"We need to do something!" Silvertongue exclaimed. "Where's my-?" He started, reaching for his lute, only to recall he had lost it in the skirmish with the Wolf Eagle. "Shit!"

"Looking for this?" An elderly voice asked. Before them was an old black fox, wearing black and grey pirate garbs, and he held the lute out to Silvertongue.

"Grandpa?!" Silvertongue exclaimed in shock, taking the lute. He was aware that this was a dream, but it was starting to get peculiar.

"That's a nice paint job, kiddo. You've really spruced up ole Annabelle. Made 'er nice 'n' pretty."

"Azure, Grandpa." Silvertongue interrupted, blushing in embarassment. Now Finny would know his lute had a 'name'. "Her name is Azure now- nevermind that. What's going on?! Why- how are you here?!"

Grandpa Songfox smiled. "I don't know what you kids are up to, but you've managed to tear a rift right through the Wolf's illusions." He pointed, and indeed, there was a slim opening in the black void, being held open by a growing number of spirits, varied in species, gender, and age. Some of them were curious, some clearly frightened, and some with steely determination in their eyes.

"You're... you're helping us?" Silvertongue asked.

"Of course we are. We've passed on, but you. You're still alive. You've got your entire lives ahead of you, it ain't the Wolf's right to take that away from you."

"Is-?" Silvertongue asked, but his question was interrupted by a roar. Another fox, this one younger than Grandpa but still going on in age, had rushed through the rift, eyes wild with unbridled fury. His tail burst into flame as he produced a broadsword, it's blade made entirely of fire and light, and charged at the Wolf Eagle. The Wolf quickly changed back into his smaller form, producing his own broadsword again, and the two of them exchanged blows, much faster than the mortal eye could follow, a blur of light and dark energy clashing together.

"Yes, your father is here." Grandpa finished the question. "But there's not much time. The rift, I fear it won't be open for long. The Wolf is strong, but you lot are giving him a run for his money. If we can get you through the rift, you'll be outside his range of influence."

"Are you sure?" Silvertongue tilted his head.

"Look, kiddo, we don't have time for philosophy. Right now, it's you and your friends best shot."

Silvertongue nodded. But how would they transport themselves to the rift? He doubted they could all sprount wings like Finnian. That's when it crossed his mind. The boat! He looked upward, squinting in hopes that he could see Darragh. Hopefully he was hot on their tails...

 

[Darragh Harper]

The fur of Darragh’s hackles rose, his tail poofed out, and he fell back into the boat in shock, as the Wolf’s terrible gaze locked onto him. It had seen him, it knew who he was. How long had it been watching? Its pair of glowing eyes brought him right back to that night, on Urk… where they had first met.

Darragh had never wanted to kill anything so badly in his life.

Even in the battle he’d fought against the shrews, his actions had been reflex, instinct and a frantic will to survive. This feeling though was murderous. He needed to kill the Wolf, stop it seeing him, stop it knowing him, as though there was something unclean itself at being regarded by such a monstrous entity. How could he live in peace now, if he knew that somewhere, this abhorrent thing had his face in its malevolent thoughts?

The Pink Void turned black, and the geometric wonderland of floating islands tore itself into nothing, like tissue paper scrunching and folding up on itself. Darragh screamed as he saw his friends fall away - his mind still assuming there was a bottom, somewhere deep below them in the dark, that would dash them to pieces. He clutched his head, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go down! Go down, follow them!” Darragh yelled… but there was nobeast with him. The wildcat oarsbeast had gone, and so had the owl. The frightened young stoat was left adrift in the empty boat. There was nothing around him, no point of reference to even know if he was moving. Darragh called helplessly for Kaii, for Swifttail, for Finny and for Silvie. He had forgotten whatever powers he was supposed to have in the dream - for it was easy to forget one was dreaming. He curled up in the bottom of the boat and shook uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around himself, singing quietly and tremulously under his breath, the battle song he’d written to remember their experience on Urk together.

Something was casting a light on Darragh, dim and bluish, like the moon glistening through a window. Darragh sat up, and peering into the vast black expanse, saw it was not a uniform abyss - there was a glowing gash in the fabric of the darkness, as though it was all one giant canvas of a damaged sail. He could see things moving in the twilight - silhouettes, or phantoms, he thought. Spirits.

A figure was approaching him. As it got closer, Darragh saw the spirit was a lady. She was a stoat, with splendid gold-brown fur, tall and regal. Her dress was stately and ornate, coloured in vibrant reds, lustrous golds and pure creams. A grand scarlet ribbon was tied in a bow at the base of her tail, and she wore cream-white gloves that reached her elbows. Though she seemed dressed for a royal court, she wore a shimmering gold-yellow sash across her waist, which held a naval officer’s small-sword in its scabbard. She was beautiful, and Darragh was transfixed, lost in the moment despite his dire peril. When she stood beside the boat, apparently floating in the nothingness, she extended a gloved paw to Darragh, and smiled.

“Permission to come aboard, young master?” She asked, her voice a refined, sonorous alto. Though it was hard to place her age, there was something mature, self-assured and commanding in her voice that the poet could only define as queenly.

“Granted, gladly ma’am!” Darragh hastened to take her paw, and help the lady ascend over the gunwale. She sat on the bench amidships of the boat, and smoothed out her dress. Though he had been momentarily distracted, the urgency of the situation quickly returned to Darragh. He doffed his blue crushed-velvet hat like a gentlebeast, the insides of his ears going red in embarrassment as he remembered just how… provocative his open-chested frilly shirt was. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but… can you help me? I’ve got no oars, and my friends…”

“Indeed,” she replied. “I shall help you. However, I am more of a sailor than an oarsbeast.”

The spirit gestured, and there was a mast in the centre of the dinghy, a boom and a sail all rigged, as though it had always been part of the original construction. She effortlessly took in the slack in the sail, passing the sheet line expertly through her gloved paws, and nodded at Darragh. Above their heads, the triangular sail billowed out with an ethereal wind.

“Take the tiller, sah, and let us dive,” the lady stoat commanded. Darragh put his paws on the tiller, and with a frown, pushed it downwards. He felt his stomach flutter as the boat descended, following in the wake of his fallen friends. He looked back to see if his new companion approved, and saw that she was eying him with some quiet, reserved amusement.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Darragh said, squirming a little at how closely she scrutinised him. Then, his eyes widened. “A-ah! I never introduced m’self! Darragh Harper, at your service, kind lady!”

She laughed, covering her muzzle politely, her amber-brown eyes twinkling. “I know who you are, dear Darragh! Don’t you recognise me, your Aurelea? We are married, after all!”

If it had been possible to crash the boat in a void at that moment, Darragh would have managed it. His face was burning under his fur, and the fluttering in his middle could no longer be solely the fault of their rapid dive.

“W-we are?” He managed to sputter.

The beautiful dame leaned forward until she was very close to Darragh, the very strands of her fur seemed to shine with a rich gloss, she smelled like the comfort of home beside the fireplace, and…

They kissed. Her paw touched his cheek. She was warm, and real. When they parted, Darragh sat with his jaw slack, a far-away look in his eyes. He panted as though she’d taken the breath out of him, then regarded her with wonder. Though this was all a dream, it would be an experience he would treasure long after he woke.

“I know who you are,” Darragh said. “But… I thought that spirits were just of the dead…?”

“There are spirits for all things. Some are small and quiet, and the tread of your paws is enough to send them scurrying. Others…” The lady’s face grew stern, and anger flashed in her eyes. “We are getting close. Prepare yourself!”

Darragh sat up in alarm as he saw what had caught Aurelea’s attention. The hideous, huge form of the Eagle as Silvie tumbled in freefall, bleeding from his gory wounds. Then, the triumph of Finny as he swooped in on his mighty wings, and snatched the bard from the abominable grip of the black tendrils. The little sailboat was blown along by the strange breeze closer and closer to the action, with Darragh steadying their course on the tiller.

“Aurelea, can we kill the brute?” Darragh called over the sound of ringing metal and scorching bursts of fire he felt warming his face. He could hardly make out the terrific, impossibly fast duel between the flaming spirit and the Wolf. The thundering of their clashes rattled in his ribcage, reminding him of the sensation of feeling a warship’s broadside from a distance.

Aurelea shook her head. “We can use the time Firetail buys us more wisely, Darragh. Rally our forces and look to the rift! We must make it before it closes!”

“Swift! Kaii! Over here!” Darragh bellowed. “Finny! Silvie! To the rift!”

He chanced a look back at the Wolf, and shivered. “He’ll be comin' to stop us, once he notices!”

“Oh, yes,” The stoat lady said, her voice menacing in its calm tone. Aurelea stood to her full height, and moved forward until she was upon the prow of the little boat. She drew her sword, and Darragh at last saw the ruthless warrior in place of the grand dame. Her eyes were fixed on the blot of dark energy that danced with the fox spirit and his flaming tail. “He will try.”