The fox growled low, his black flames flickering weakly around his tiny frame. The word in the dirt—"Liar"—continued to glow faintly, like it was mocking me.
I wanted to scrub it out, pretend it wasn't there, but my feet wouldn't move. Every instinct I had screamed that this was more than just a warning.
"What the hell is going on?" I muttered, more to myself than to the fox.
The note crumpled in my hand, damp with sweat, its cryptic message reverberating in my mind: The guild knows what you're doing. My heart hammered as I thought about the masked figure's words. What were they implying? What truth hadn't I seen? And worse—what had I ignored?
The forest around me seemed unnaturally quiet, as if holding its breath. Even the wind refused to stir. I shivered despite the warmth of the fox's flames.