The Fox And The Last Dragon

A glowing symbol burned itself into his flesh—intricate lines forming what looked like ancient script, pulsing with golden light.

His scream tore through the penthouse, raw and primal.

The pain was unlike anything he'd experienced, as if his soul were being branded, not just his skin.

"What—what did you do to me?" Kane gasped, collapsing against the doorframe.

Cyrus appeared in the doorway, his mask of indifference cracked into surprise as he stared at the glowing mark.

"That," he said quietly, "was not my doing."

Kane sprawled on the marble floor, clutching his chest as waves of pain rippled through his body.

The burning sensation gradually subsided, leaving behind a dull throb and the faint golden glow still emanating from beneath his torn shirt.

Cyrus stood over him, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you quite finished?"

Kane's breathing steadied as the pain receded to manageable levels.

"No," Kane whispered, fingers tracing the glowing pattern.

"No, no, no."

"What is it now?" Cyrus's voice remained cold and detached.

Kane's mind raced through the implications, each realization worse than the last.

The mark, the timing, the rescue at the warehouse—it all fit together in the worst possible way.

"'You saved my life," Kane said, his voice hollow with dawning horror.

"Yes, an oversight I'm beginning to regret."

"You don't understand." Kane struggled to his feet, legs wobbly beneath him.

"This is a karmic seal. A life debt."

Cyrus's expression shifted slightly.

"Fox spirits carry a curse," Kane explained, his voice strained as he steadied himself against the wall.

"When we're saved from certain death, we're bound by a life-debt to our savior."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed.

"I thought your kind abandoned those rites centuries ago."

"They became taboo after too many spirits abused them," Kane muttered.

"But the magic still recognizes intent—and yours qualified."

The dragon's jaw tightened.

"Then remove it."

"I can't." Kane laughed bitterly.

"Trust me, if I could, I would. The bond is instinctive, primal. If I try to violate it—" He winced at the memory of stories passed down through generations.

"So you're telling me I'm now stuck with an incompetent fox spirit agent who's magically bound to me?" Cyrus asked coldly.

"Trust me, this isn't exactly my dream scenario either." Kane slumped against the wall.

"But that's the reality. I owe you a life-debt, and neither of us has any say in the matter."

"Fantastic," Cyrus muttered. "Just what I needed."

Cyrus moved towards the door.

"Your spiritual entanglements are not my concern."

The heavy door began to swing shut, the barrier between them growing narrower by the second.

Kane lunged forward, wedging his foot in the shrinking gap and slamming his palm against the polished wood.

"You don't understand," he hissed through gritted teeth as the pressure on his foot intensified.

"I physically cannot leave you."

Cyrus's eyes flashed dangerously, a hint of crimson bleeding into his irises.

"Remove your foot before I remove it for you."

"The bond doesn't work that way." Kane pushed back against the door, his entire body trembling with the effort of opposing the dragon's strength.

"The further I get from you, the worse the pain becomes. At a certain distance, it becomes... unbearable."

"That sounds like a personal problem." Cyrus applied more pressure.

Kane's face contorted in pain, but he held firm.

"If you force me away, I'll end up collapsed in your lobby."

"Is that what you want? Bureau agents finding me there, investigating why I'm dying outside your door?"

"I'm not afraid of the Bureau." Cyrus's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Or you."

Cyrus turned away, clearly done with the conversation.

The door slammed shut with finality, the sound echoing through the penthouse.

Kane slumped against the wall, bracing for the pain.

It started as a dull throb, then intensified, like needles under his skin, and fire in his veins.

He gritted his teeth, determined not to give the arrogant dragon the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Inside the penthouse, Cyrus strode toward his living room, loosening his tie with an irritated flick of his wrist.

He'd deal with the fox problem tomorrow.

Perhaps a generous donation to the Bureau would make the nuisance disappear.

Suddenly, a sharp sensation pierced his chest.

Cyrus froze.

The pain was foreign—not physical injury, but something deeper, as if someone had reached into his core and twisted it.

His hand pressed against his chest, feeling for a wound that wasn't there.

The sensation intensified, spreading through his body like poison.

This was impossible. Nothing had hurt him in centuries.

Yet here he was, a millennia-old dragon, brought to his knees by an invisible force.

With a growl of frustration, Cyrus stalked back to the door and yanked it open.

Kane still sat there, pale and sweating, amber eyes glazed with pain.

The moment the door opened, both men gasped in relief as the crushing pressure eased.

"What," Cyrus demanded, his voice deadly quiet, "did you do to me?"

Kane's lips curved into a humorless smile.

"I forgot to mention something important about the bond."

"Explain. Now."

"It's not just me who's affected." Kane struggled to his feet, leaning against the doorframe.

"The karmic seal creates a connection between us. It's a two-way street."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"You're telling me I'm now tethered to you?"

"More like we're tethered to each other." Kane shrugged weakly.

"Emotionally connected. What I feel, you feel."

"That's not possible."

"Tell that to your chest." Kane gestured to Cyrus's heart, where the dragon still pressed his hand.

"Ancient fox magic doesn't really care what you think is possible."

Cyrus's jaw clenched so tight Kane could hear teeth grinding.

"How do we break it?"

"I told you—we don't. Not until the debt is repaid or one of us dies." Kane ran a hand through his silver hair.

"And if you're thinking of killing me, the backlash would probably destroy you too."