The Island of Magmar is one dark forest. Its people are divided into guilds. They know every tree and herb and they know how to survive in a time of enchantment and powerful magic. Until an ambitious and malevolent force conjures a demon: a demon so...
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Where are you? Bennu's desolated call echoed off the rockface. Where are you? the hills howled back at him. The old pain was opening up in his chest. First Ma, now Mystigan. Please, not Mystigan. . . Cybil stood blinking at the mouth of the cave. "Why did you let him off the leash?" he cried. She swayed. "I had to. Had to set him free." With a cry, Bennu started rooting around in the wreckage. "How did you summon flames? I didn't know you were a sorcerer—" "I'm not," Bennu cut in, "I don't know how I did it, and it doesn't matter. I'm going after Mystigan." "But it'll be dark soon!" "So we just sit here and wait?" "No!" Cried Cybil, "We salvage our gear, we build a shelter and a fire. Then we wait. We wait for Mystigan to find us." Bennu bit back a retort. For the first time, he noticed Cybil was shaking. She had a bloody scrape down one cheek, and a bruise the size of a pigeon's egg coming up over the other eye. He felt ashamed. She'd faced the Phoenix. She'd even have the courage to fight it. He shouldn't have shouted. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean. . . You're right. I can't track him in the dark." Cybil sat down heavily on a boulder. "I had no idea what it would be like," she said. "I never thought it would be so. . ." She covered her mouth with both hands. Bennu unearthed his katana from the rubble. The blade was damaged beyond repair. "Did you hit it?" He asked. "I don't know. I don't think it matters. Swords can't bring it down." She shook her head. "One moment it was after me, and the next, it was after Mystigan. Why?" He tossed away the broken katana. "Does that matter?" "Maybe." She glanced at him. "Did you get the World-soul?" He'd almost forgotten about it. Now, as he reached inside his jerkin and brought out the mitten, he just wanted to be rid of it. Because of the World-Soul, Mystigan might be dead. No more grooming-nibbles in the morning; no more uproarious games of hide and hunt. . . Bennu bit his knuckle, fighting his fear. He couldn't lose Mystigan. Cybil took the mitten and turned it in her fingers. "We've got the second part of the world-soul," she said thoughtfully, "and lost the first. But why did Mystigan take it?" With an effort, Bennu forced his mind to what she was saying. Something flickered in his memory. "Do you remember," he said, "when I found the first piece— it was as if Mystigan could hear it. Or sense it in some way." Cybil frowned. "You think—the Phoenix can too?" "All the shiny shiny souls," he quoted. "That's what the Scarred-One said. Demons hate the living, they hate the brightness of the souls." "And if the souls of ordinary creatures are too bright," said Cybil, getting to her feet and beginning to pace, "then how much brighter—more dazzling— must the World-Soul be!" "That's why it attacked you, because you had the first piece—" "And that's why Mystigan took the pouch. Because he knew. Because—" she stopped pacing and stared at Bennu. "Because he was luring the Phoenix away from us. Oh, Bennu. He saved our lives." Bennu stumbled to the edge of the trail. The fog was clearing at last, and below him, the vastness of the Forest marched away into the west. What chance did Mystigan have out there, alone against the Phoenix? "The Kitsune is the sliest spirit in the forest. He's smarter than the Phoenix." Said Cybil. "He's just a cub, Cybil. He's not even four months old." "But he's also the guide. If anyone can find a way, he can."
