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Episode 2: Deep Dive

"A society is judged by its capacity to produce unique forms of expression but it is its capacity to be remembered and remain timeless that will maintain its legacy."

_ _

Jeffrey Matthews Arnold

From a Speech given at Atlas

_ _

Ocean waters soaked at his feet. The inky-black waters were still, never even frothing as they kissed the silvery sand that sank between the ridges of his sneakers. Its black expanse was all consuming, like an oil spill that stretched from horizon to horizon. Rotten, gnarled trees rose from the still depths, clawed withered hands desperately trying to reach for freedom from the consuming waters.

Jacob cast his gaze around, peering up at the grey, cloudless sky. His sapphire-blue eyes took in the small, silver island he stood upon. The sandy mound had a single, black and silver construction at its centre.

A coffin.

"Is this her seal?"

There was a flutter of feathers and Zack, his mental guardian angel appeared beside him. The broadly built, white wolf with wings smiled at him, placing a paw on his shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Probably." The wolf turned to him, muzzle dangerously close to his cheek. "What are you going to do with that knowledge?"

Jacob's left fist tightened, determined to find some incriminating or emotionally crippling evidence that would reduce Sierra Seasinger to a sobbing mass. His right clutched the folds of his coat, filled with curiosity and pity over the Elemental Lord's plight.

"Not sure yet." He marched towards the centre of the island. "But I'm pretty damn sure I've got to open that coffin."

"You're not disturbed by what Sergeant Canis said?"

His legs froze in midstride. "What? About my 'daddy issues'?"

Zack shrugged, his feathery wings spreading and collapsing with the gesture. "I was actually referring to the fact that you seem to be medicating yourself with sex but that's good too!" The angelic wolf spread his wings and soared over Jacob, landing on the upright coffin. He sat down, one leg draped over the other. "So Jake, how was the sex?"

Jacob's hackles bristled. "That's none of your damn business!"

Laughing heartily, Zack waved away the remark. "Jake, I'm with you in the inner world of a Seal. What you say here doesn't leave here." The angel's blue eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "Now... Why did you have sex with Leo and Rex?"

His response was frighteningly instantaneous. "There was a bed!"

God... even that sounds lame to me... Lame and disgusting...

"If memory serves, last time you had them both in 'bed' was out in the middle of a devastated church courtyard. I don't think a bed is the reason." The wolf lifted a finger into the air. "If we look at the past, you seem to have a pattern where your sexual encounters always arise when you are feeling emotionally distressed."

"What!?" he exclaimed, voice rising to an unusual pitch. "That's just not true!"

"Oh?" Zack's left eyebrows rose as his head tilted towards the right. "Let's reviews, shall we? Your first encounter with Taylor was brought on because...?"

"He came onto me!"

"Or was it because you were afraid of Joanna's accusation that you were gay?"

Shit... Was it...? Was I just trying to prove I wasn't gay...?

"Your subsequent encounters were all driven by stress if I remember correctly," Zack continued. "Look at your encounter with Rex. You had sex with him after you found out he was your brother. Were you truly relieved at that prospect or just trying to use sex as a way to block off any thoughts about your family?"

"That's not true! I love both of them!"

"Are you just using 'love' because you know that's a 'catch-all' word that will excuse all acts of sex?" Zack asked, a knowing smile on his face. "Jacob, you barely know yourself. I've spent the last five minutes questioning what you felt was a solid foundation in your heart and even now, you are shaking and your knees are going weak."

Jacob glanced downwards. His knees were knocking together and he had to fight to keep them straight. As he did so, however, the shaking travelled to his arms and spine.

"What's wrong with me!?" he bellowed in frustration, digging his claws into his temples. "Is that really all they are to me!? Just bloody bandages!?"

Did it ever really mean anything?

Am I just keeping my 'friends' around for the convenience of company...?

How much do I even really know about them...?

"You're barely in your twenties," Zack said. "So young compared to the rest of the world but for those years, you've kept your heart shut from the world. After the events of Graesham, you resolved to open your heart. These are the questions you have to ask yourself."

Jacob fell to his paws and knees, shaking. "I... I just don't..."

I feel like I've wasted their time... We're fighting MODD... but am I really worthy of being their 'friend'...?

Am I their friend...?

Better question: am I worthy?

"An opened heart doesn't necessarily mean just the good things will come through. Your past will catch up no matter how much you try to reject it. It's not a matter of fighting it. It's about embracing it."

Zack's feet landed in front of him.

"It's just like this ocean, Jake. It's filled with misery and suffering but does Sierra let that wear her down? Does she truly suffer from it? She embraces it, accepts it. Uses it to make her stronger. Open your heart because when the waters start coming in, you're going to get all the junk as well."

Jacob grunted and tried to rise but found a great weight had fallen on his shoulders, making it impossible. "So... I just move on...?"

"I wouldn't say that," Zack answered cheerily. The angel knelt down and cupped his chin in one paw. "Embrace those feelings or lack thereof. Learn from them and move forward." The angel grinned broadly. "Oh and don't use sex as a way of drowning out your problems, okay?"

He managed a shaky grin. "Can I still fuck my boyfriend's brains out?"

"Knock yourself out."

Zack beamed... then he leaned forward.

Their lips touched...

Jacob started awake.

Soft fur brushed against his own and Rex's soft snore flooded his left ear. To his right, Leo cuddled up to him, arms draped across his chest. Dried semen caked the fur on his chest and back. Both his half-brother and mate's cocks were semi-erect, poking out of their furry sheaths.

A pang of guilt stabbed his heart but instead of just pulling it out, he left the burning feeling in there. Taking his guardian angel's advice, he left his heart to bleed. Slowly, he unwound himself from the embrace of the two men who was closest to him. Thankfully, both wolves were quite heavy sleepers and he easily managed to get off the lavished, large, king-sized bed without waking either of them.

He slipped into the en suite of the large guest room and followed his instinct to dive straight into the shower and shower profusely for 13 minutes. The waters had a strange tingling edge to them and when he lapped up a bit of it, it tasted strangely sweet and salty at the same time.

13 minutes seemed to go on for an eternity but at about the third minute, he decided to stop counting. Normal people generally didn't count how many minutes they spent in the shower. Fists tightly clenched he probed his mind for something to occupy his mind as he reached for the fur shampoo and began lathering it into the thick golden crest that formed a heart-shape over his chest.

Sadly, he wasn't insane enough to have a conversation with himself or smart enough to start philosophising without any sort of stimulus. Washing the cum off his body was the highlight of his shower and he stood there, soaking in the waters, feeling empty, lost... and a little bored.

A sigh lifted from his muzzle as he leaned against the glass walls of the shower cubicle.

So... Why don't I just get out...?

The thought felt like someone had just turkey slapped him and stamped the word 'idiot' on his forehead to the contrived laughter of a sitcom audience. He switched off the water and slipped out of the cubicle. Curious, he peered at the nearby clock that hung on the wall.

13 minutes on the dot.

Son of a...

He growled angrily more at himself than at the time and stepped into the fur dryer. The hot air that erupted from the wall-mounted dryers evaporated the water that clung to his thick fur, gently caressing his skin like a hot massage. He lifted his arms into the air to make sure every part of his was dry.

When the air started to feel like it was burning and the aroma of wet dog left, he emerged from the fur dryers and forced himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. He saw another wolf there instead. Someone smaller in build and bearing green eyes. However, their facial structure was exactly the same. Same smooth cheeks that melded into a broad, manly muzzle. Same triangular ears that looked just a little too small for his wide head and same thick neck that curved and undulated into his square jaw.

His eyes began to burn at the image of Isaac Reaper but Jacob was determined to gain one victory over his OCD.

"Hi dad..." he murmured softly.

Tearing his gaze from his reflection, he quickly left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom. Finding his clothes in the dark of the room was quite difficult but he eventually located them and slipped them on. Rex and Leo remained blissfully asleep. A quick check at the clock revealed it was just five in the afternoon. Two more hours until Sierra's dinner.

His head strangely clear, Jacob headed out of the room fully clothed.

Two hours to kill... I wonder what I could do in that time...

Burning some art museums sounded like a good idea until he remembered the beating he got from Joanna.

Still, discovering what truly made 'art' sparked his curiosity.

He followed the hallway back to the balcony where he had tea with Sierra and the rest of his group. Naturally, it was empty. Like his eyes had been opened for the first time, he took in the beauty of the small garden and had to admit, that there was a soothing quality to it. The structure would make a very nice legacy for the next Elemental Lord of Water.

Huh... I wonder who the next Water Lord would be...

Probably something I should ask Sierra...

He gripped his left shoulder, his Brand glowing brightly through his clothes. "Spectre..." The light coalesced into a sphere in his paw and he tossed it behind him. There was a sound like glass shattering and his Animus, the massive, winged wolf, Spectre, appeared beside him, wrapped in fierce, black and gold armour.

"You're not planning on sinking the whole city, are you?" the Animus asked. "I'm all up for a bit of mayhem and destruction but can we at least have some of those crumpets? I missed out."

"Maybe later," he replied, smiling softly and patting Spectre's head. "Let's go to an art museum."

Spectre lifted his head in surprise. "Hey... You promised Joanna you wouldn't burn, maim or kill anything that's considered art."

"I know. I'm just going to look."

The Animus took several steps back. "And... appreciate...?"

...

"Yes."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Jacob?"

"Spectre..." Jacob muttered, slightly irritated.

"Oh god! Don't tell me Rex's cum is starting to inject you with some civility. Oh! That must be it! Leo's cum makes you impulsive and reckless while Rex's makes you normal. He did mount you a couple of hours ago..."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Would it help if I said if I really appreciated the piece of art, I'll consider borrowing it?"

"Without asking?"

"I'll ask. I just won't care about the reply."

Spectre smirked. "Hop on."

Jacob slipped onto the saddle of his Animus and Spectre spread his wings, leaping into the air and soaring through the skies. The warm ocean air was quite nice after a cool shower. With the sun descending towards the horizon, the temperature was that mix of warmth but broken by the occassional cold breeze that felt like some all-powerful weather god was breathing through his fur and massaging him with cool hands at the same time.

They sped past the Seagate much to the surprise of many workers. Spectre soared high and past the clouds where the air was thin. Jacob held his breath for a moment, casting his gaze down towards Angelsea. The city looked like it was shaped like a nautilus shell. Sierra's palace sat at the very centre. Alleyways of water rippled out irregularly from the centre but a large, main river curled outwards in a spiral.

Spectre began to descend again back into breathable air giving Jacob a view of the rest of the ocean. Countless ships dotted the blue-green expanse.

"Angelsea is meant to have the largest navy in all of Rillotia."

"Nothing as big as Minteroca's navy, though," Spectre answered.

"Yeah but Minteroca is a fortress." Jacob leaned back on his Animus' back, arms crossed behind his head. "They've got those huge cannons all along their coast and from what I hear, each of their cities has some sort of dome-like shield around it that cleans up all pollution and recycles the air. Not to mention blocks most conventional weaponry."

"And you know this because...?"

"I may have considered blowing it up every now and then." Jacob allowed himself a grin. "Besides, I hear that if you ever wanted a fresh start, Minteroca is the best place to go."

"You're considering leaving Rillotia?"

He shrugged absently. "Maybe. After all this craziness, I get the sneaking suspicion I may have to disappear. MODD is strongest in Rillotia so another country sounds good. Anyway, I better head down to a museum. I figure it'd take me about half an hour to find a good piece of art to steal. Another thirty minutes to evade the authorities, fifteen minutes to hide it and then another fifteen to get back to Sierra and pretend like nothing happened."

Spectre shook his head. "You never change, Jacob."

...

Maybe I do, Spectre... But it's just really slow...

Spectre descended silently into the streets of Angelsea, dropping Jacob off in an alleyway far from the main canals. The Animus vanished in a shower of light and white feathers before reappearing in his miniature version and landing on Jacob's shoulder. The two then wandered onto the narrow streets of the city.

Tourism seemed to be a prevalent theme in the city as he easily found a stall where a friendly tiger offered him a brochure and a map. According to the brochure, there was a grand opening for a exhibition known as the 'Sealing'.

Either that's an exhibition about the horrors of flesh eating Seals... or it's about the Seal War.

"Well, if ever you wanted to find a piece of art you can relate with, that would be the place."

Agreeing to that point, Jacob followed the map through the winding alleyways and canals of Angelsea. With most of the sidewalks crowded due to their narrow nature, he mostly navigated using side streets. This avoided the unnaturally cheery and happy performers who constantly littered the plazas or the litter of children who constantly milled about under the watchful gaze of nuns unusually busty nuns.

Someone seized his arm.

Reflexes took over and he -

"Jake! Wait!"

He froze just before he tore off the nun's arm. The mare gazed up at him with shining, emerald eyes.

"My," she observed, her voice dripping with lust, "aren't you a big one?" Her other hand quickly reached towards his groin, squeezing at his package. "Very big."

"What the -?" he exclaimed, pulling away from her with much effort.

"Oh, don't be like that," she answered, crossing her arms underneath her breasts in such a way that her breasts were plumped up. "You know it's every man's fantasy to 'seed' the uncorrupted crops."

His voice went unnaturally high-pitched. "What!?"

"I like this nun."

She swayed her hips lustily towards him. "So what do you say, stranger? My loins are on fire and I believe you've got plenty of burn cream. I need a healthy application."

The gears in his brain ground to a halt so the individual parts of his body took over and did their own thing. His cock retracted further into his sheath. His head inclined to the left, weighed down by the copious amount of shock that riddled his brain. His legs turned him around in the opposite direction and began walking away.

His muzzle said, "Sorry I used it all up to make a cream pie earlier with my brother and boyfriend."

Spectre burst out in uncontrollable laughter, peering over his shoulder at the stunned and confounded nun. His laughter died however as Jacob passed several more nuns who were shamelessly soliciting other men. More than a few were taken up on their offer, men of all shapes and sizes eagerly following them into a nearby orphanage.

"Wow... Either the prostitutes in this place enjoy role playing or the nuns have some very bad habits."

Did you just make a nun joke?

"What...?"

Habit. Nuns wear habits.

"Oh..."

Shaking off the somewhat puzzling experience, Jacob followed the map on his brochure straight to the large, heavily decorated gallery. His shoes slipped slightly on the polished, marble steps as he passed the massive, stone lions who stood clutching shields and spears to flank the steps. Towering columns flanked the open, stone doors, letting the sound of people's chatter from the free gallery meet his ears.

A doorman welcomed him to the gallery, offering him a pamphlet that introduced and highlighted several bits of art. He took it and after a few steps, dumped it in a nearby trashcan. Countless others pushed and brushed against them as they milled about the crowded open floor. Walls had been arranged to guide the audience through the gallery. Paintings of varying styles were mounted on these walls while sculptures dotted the spaces between. Waiters and waitresses drifted between the crowds, holding up silver platters with drinks and small nibbles.

Jacob stopped in front of a painting called 'The Hypocrisy of Mortal Existence'. Mounted on a broad canvas and contained within a golden frame was an image of a black and red spiral that ended near the base of the canvas. Splatters of paint with the same colour riddled the entire image.

"Ah, you like Orville Brian's work?" a short otter dressed in a tight-fitting suit asked him. The man had a rather defined paunch and was even wearing a monocle. In one paw was a champagne glass. "I find his work both an inspiring story and a comment on social standings. Take Hypocrisy here..." The otter gestured at the painting, drawing Jacob's eyes back towards it. "Notice how the black spiral is made with brushstrokes spiralling inwards while the red spirals outwards. It represents the cyclical nature of all mortal advancement and growth. To truly advance, one must fall. Consequently, to grow, others must fall. Then there are the splatters. The exceptions to the rule."

...

What!?

"Inspiring, don't you think?" the otter continued. "It truly reflects Brian's life during which his father was a successful business man but always returned home to beat his wife and children. Yet, it seemed to spurn him further. Then, when his mother became successful in her own home business, his father lost his business. The story of Brian's life on canvas." The otter lifted his glass towards the piece of art. "Inspiring."

...

I repeat... What!?

"Jake... It's art," Spectre muttered with resignation. "You can't 'truly' appreciate it until you delve into the minds of the artists."

That's bullshit. Are you telling me I need a bloody guide for each painting to really 'appreciate it'? What happened to all the story being on the canvas instead of in a guide book you have to give an arm and a leg for!?

"It's art..."

You know half of the stuff the write in those things are complete trash, right?

"It's art..."

Okay, you know what? I'm going to prove to you that half of these people have no idea what they're talking about.

Spectre sat up smugly on his shoulder. "This, I'm going to enjoy."

"Oh yeah," he answered, nodding sagely. "It truly is inspiring. But you know there is another angle to this."

"Oh really?" the otter replied, seemingly enjoying the challenge. "Like what?"

Jacob put on his best 'arrogant-art-appreciator' accent and said, "Quite literally another angle. If you tilt your head to the left like so..." He twisted his head to the left so that he saw the painting at a slight angle. "You'll see that the spiral appears as a twisted tug-of-war between two opposing forces. Brian's use of red and black instead of opposing colours like black and white or red and blue represents the idea that the opponents in their war are more similar than they are giving themselves credit for. Similarly, the colours meld with one another and there is no definitive separation between them indicating that in the battle, there will be sympathisers. You'll note that he used the same colours for the black and white splatters. This indicates that in the pockets of both sides, there are those who work for the opposing team, breaking the structure of the opposing force. This is further exemplified by the fact that the splatters that exist within the same coloured spiral cannot be seen but you know they are there if you look hard enough. These are the extremists of that particular side."

The otter frowned. "Oh... I see..." He then slowly twisted his head to the left.

Ha! Idiot.

Jacob smirked to himself and strutted away from the otter. In the reflection of a champagne class he picked up, he noticed the otter's puzzled expression as he stared at the painting.

"So what did that exactly prove?"

That I can totally make something up and they'll buy it. Just like those guide books.

A paw seized his shoulder, making him turn -

Smack!

Stars flashed in his eyes.

"Ow!" One particular star flashed out of existence to reveal the scowling face of Joanna Swan. "Oh... Hey Jo..."

"What you did back there was just rotten," the vixen snarled. "You've made an idiot of that guy!"

He folded his arms across his chest smugly. "Hey, not my fault that he's so willing to accept anyone's point of view and discard his own. Besides, it's art, right? Everyone's free to interpret it as they see fit."

"Not when it completely misses the point of the painting!" Joanna pointed at the painting. "Hypocrisy isn't about war! It's about the duality of mortal existence!"

Jacob smirked at the painting and hiked a thumb at the crowd that had gathered there. "They don't seem to think so."

The entire crowd stood around Orville Brian's painting, twisting their head to the left and nodding in appreciating. Many of them were making sounds of revelation, toasting their glasses towards the painting and actively conversing with one another. One girl even went to the effort to grab several of her friends to bring them back towards the painting.

Joanna sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Why are you even here?" Her eyes widened. "If you think you're going to burn this place -"

Holding his paws into the air, he said, "Hey, I promised I wouldn't do anything to any priceless pieces of art, remember? I'll be good."

"That's what I'm afraid of." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm keeping my eyes on you."

"Then you won't have enough eyes to appreciate the art, will you?" A cocky grinned crossed his features. "Unless, of course, you find me a piece of art." He tightened the muscles around his arms as they crossed and puffed out his chest proudly.

"You're a piece of work, alright," she grumbled. Joanna seized his arm and pulled him through the crowds. "Maybe something more... physical will get you to truly appreciate art instead of mocking it."

She brought him to a large statue of three, heavily muscles wolves. All three were naked with their cocks sadly buried in their stone sheathes. The central wolf had his head buried against the chest of the one on the left who stood proudly and hugging the central one. The third crouched in front of the two, peering at the crowd warily with cold, unwelcoming, stone eyes.

"What do you think of that?" she demanded, a triumphant grin on her face.

"Softcore porn."

Smack!

"You've got nothing but sex on the brain!" she accused.

He gave her a look caught between sarcasm and amusement. "Jo, you just took me to a statue of three naked wolves. Tell me what about that doesn't scream 'porn' to you if you were in my shoes."

"Do you honestly think art is a joke!?" she snarled, her fangs bared. "The artist worked hard to make this piece and you treat it like it's something to rape!"

He just lifted one eyebrow. "I'm entitled to my opinions of the piece, aren't I?"

Joanna's eyes narrowed. As she took a step back, those same eyes widened, filled with sadness. "You know what...? I won't even bother, Jacob." She lifted a paw, silencing him. "You're right. You're entitled to your opinions. But you're just so blind to everyone else's that you can't accept theirs."

A ripple of rebellious fire exploded from his stomach and worked its way up his chest, exploding out of his muzzle. "Hey! I've been known to change my mind!"

"Only when you're proven wrong." Joanna took a step back, turning away from him. "The world is far from just black and white, Jacob. You can't just take things for what they appear on the outside. In paint, black is the amalgam of all colours. With light, white is the combination of all colours of the spectrum. Think about that."

Jacob huffed angrily and watched her disappear into the crowd.

What do you think about that? I just make some smarmy comment about art and she goes off accusing me of being narrow-minded.

"No offense, Jake, but you can be a little... driven. I mean, when you set down a path, you just never stop."

Is that a bad thing?

"When it works but the world isn't made of just one road, you know and you're not the only one walking it."

Yeah? Well I can only walk down one road at a time.

Whatever else Spectre had to say, Jacob pushed aside and headed towards the door. It was nearing six thirty and he needed time to get back to Sierra for the dinner she promised. He was eager to get as much out of her about his father as he could.

Each step he took, however, seemed to get heavier and heavier.

As he passed the massive crowd of people tilting their heads at Hypocrisy, he had slowed down to a light jog. When he walked past the doorman, he had started shuffling. At the base of the steps, he had come to a complete halt.

His eyes lifted to meet the palace of the Elemental Lord of Water.

"Damnit..."

Jacob spun back around and bolted up the steps, his feet surprisingly light and filled with a renewed vigour. The doorman barely saw him as he swept by and he used his superior bulk to push past the crowds.

A paw seized his shoulder and he spun towards it.

"Jo -"

It wasn't Joanna.

An elderly lion met him, his mane all greyed out and his eyes milky, bordering upon blindness. The massive glasses he wore almost gave him a comical bug-eyed look.

"Good evening, young man," the man held out his paw. "I'm Orville Brian."

"Oh..." The name clicked in his mind. "Oh!" Jacob shook Brian's paw quickly before letting go. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Sorry I made fun of your painting." He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "I got to go."

Brian laughed and shook his head. "Not at all, son. I enjoy fresh new interpretations of my works. I never thought of Hypocrisy like that before. It doesn't change the core meaning but I can see where you come from." He nodded towards the painting. "I'm even thinking of hanging it up on its side to see what other people think! You've given me some new insight. Thank you."

Jacob frowned slightly. "Erm... You're welcome... I've got someone to find. Later."

He turned and hurried past the statue of the three wolves. Before he passed it completely, he stopped and stared at it for a moment.

"Huh... Male dominance..."

Then he turned and hurried through the rest of the gallery, searching for Joanna. Amongst the multitude of species, it was difficult to find her. A glimpse of red caught his attention and he saw her tail disappear amongst a crowd. He hurried past a crowd but even his large size couldn't carve a path quickly enough through them.

Crap... Okay... Think of something...

He glanced at a nearby painting... and the champagne glass in his paws.

I am so going to get hell for this.

He tossed the champagne at the canvas.

"Oh my god! What are you doing!?"

"Did he just -!?"

"No!"

Jacob quickly dove past the crowd of clamouring art appreciators as the scrambled towards the ruined painting. He quickly made his way past the crowd of people who saw what he had done and entered the masses who were just following the rest of the crowd. From there, he found a spot just next to a statue where no one milled about and let the crowd pass him.

As the people came to a standstill, he turned and pushed his way out of the gallery.

Joanna just disappeared down the stairs.

"Jo!"

He emerged from the gallery...

... but couldn't find her anywhere.

"Damnit..."

******

The dinner spread was quite lavished. A broad, polished table sat in front of them decorated with countless vases filled with carefully trimmed flowers. Silver candlesticks stood between each vase, alight despite the chandelier giving the dining room plenty of illumination. Each of the seats were comfortably and cushiony. A polished, wooden floor gave the entire room a reddish appearance that contrasted against the dark blue sky that was framed against broad, windows that kissed the floor and reached up to the high ceiling and led to a balcony beyond.

Jacob sat down on the seat between Rex and Leo, strangely feeling so... wrong.

Rex leaned towards him and whispered, "Where's Joanna?"

"Probably still at that art gallery I saw her at."

"You went to an art gallery?"

"Only to sow mayhem and destruction. You don't have to worry."

"Did you steal anything?"

"Sadly, no. Unless you count sanity."

Rex let out a defeated sigh and straightened. "Have you seen Max at least?"

"Only in my dreams. He's generally eviscerated."

In the meantime, Jacob regarded the dishes in front of him. There had to be at least twenty types of forks and spoons arrayed beside a central plate. A bowl of water sat a short distance away from him as did smaller bowls that looked like its children. Knives were also prevalent though in lesser numbers.

He picked up the smallest form. "What's this for?" he asked softly.

"That is a salad fork," came the refined reply.

The soft thunk-thunk-thunk of Sierra's walking cane filled the large, mostly empty dining room. She came hobbling in, accompanied by the orca admiral, Jenkins, and another, tall, jet-black wolf with bright, green eyes. His red hair formed a nice blend between his fur and the rest of his body. Both were dressed in the black cloaks of MODD lieutenants, trimmed with the blue of their Elemental Lord.

"You'll have to grow accustomed to the intricacies of dining room behaviour," she said, taking her seat at the head of the table. "You'll be invited to the dinner with Balthazar."

Jacob bristled. "What!? Don't you think he'll know what we look like!?"

"As far as MODD is concerned, you are the only one who is a danger," Sierra responded. "The others of your team are unknown. Rex is still loyal to MODD. We can disguise you easily, Jacob, and the rest will simply be guests."

"What's the point of the dinner if you don't mind me asking, ma'am," Taylor began. "I mean, can't we just capture Balthazar when he's exposed?"

The Elemental Lord shook her head sadly. "I just received news that Balthazar will be travelling with the Elemental Lords of Light and Darkness. Both are the most loyal members of Balthazar's Elemental Lords and having two of them will pose a great danger not only to us but the rest of Angelsea. We have to be tactful about our approach. Subtle." She gripped her cane tightly. "Thus, we'll have to lure Balthazar away from the Elemental Lords and admit his guilt to convince the other Lords of his treachery. Outright murder was never our intention."

Says you...

Kerry seemed relieved at that. "So how will a dinner help us prove Balthazar's guilt?"

"It won't," Sierra answered. "It is simply one of the many tactics we will take to try and expose Balthazar's wickedness." She gestured at the plates in front of them. "We simply need to ensure that he is at ease and we can't draw his attention to anything we do or give him reason to be suspicious of us." She tapped the floor with her cane. "Thus, we begin our training."

"You're going to teach us how to eat?" Jacob asked.

"I'm going to teach you how to eat in polite company," she answered with a benign smile. "For instance, you should tell the young man beside you that bowl isn't for drinking out of. It is a bowl to wash your paws in."

Jacob knew she meant Leo but he gave Rex a puzzled, mocking look instead. His half-brother gave him a searing stare. Smirking, Jacob turned back towards Leo and pulled the bowl away from Leo's muzzle.

"Now then," Sierra began. "The forks and knives arrayed around you are to be used from outside inwards."

"What are the courses, Sierra?" Rex asked.

She smiled brightly. "I'm glad you asked! The first course is a nice, salad followed by a soup. Then we will have our fish course, followed a meat course and a chicken course following shortly afterwards. We will then dine on crystal tea and biscuits. To close off the night, we will have dessert and then cheese and wine."

Jacob had a bit of difficulty picturing all of that or how he was going to eat it all.

"That sounds delicious," Rex replied. "So is this some sort of training dinner?"

The Elemental Lord beam brightly. "That and a rehearsal! We must see what you like so we don't have you returning the dinner in a less presentable form! It is considered rude, after all."

"What about throwing the food?" Jacob asked.

Whack!

He rubbed the back of his head, glaring at Rex angrily.

The first course came streaming out on the platters held by multiple butlers. Each man dressed in tight-fitting suits set a plate in front of the diners. Two different salads were offered with alternating types between the diners. Jacob got a very strange looking oyster salad of some sort. Nestled on a large cup of lettuce was some finely shredded cabbage mixed with carrots and capsicum. Four extracted oysters were arranged in a flower in front of him with a creamy, sauce poured over it and some tiny, red balls resting where the oysters touched.

Beside him, Leo and Rex got the other salad which appeared to be a prawn salad of some sort. About twenty de-shelled prawns were arranged carefully to hang off the edge of the bowl with a cabbage salad sitting at the centre. A small dipping bowl of what appeared to be sweet chilli sauce sat beside them.

"Tell me what you think!" Sierra exclaimed excitedly.

Jacob hesitantly picked up the salad fork and jabbed the oyster with it. The way the gelatinous mass just wiggled in front of him already stirred his stomach to rebellion. Seeing Taylor eating it and rolling his eyes in appreciation gave him some form of encouragement. He held his breath and dared to slip it into his mouth.

He chewed lightly. The oyster's salty juices sprayed into his muzzle, mixing with the light, creamy mayonnaise and lemon juice to form a delicious blend of salty and sour. Pleasantly surprised, he devoured the rest of the salad, nodding in appreciation.

"How is it?" Rex asked.

"Pretty good," he grunted through his second oyster. "Here, try." He pushed his salad over to Rex, offering one of the oysters. When Rex too it, he turned towards Leo.

"Erm..."

Leo was eagerly devouring his salad... without the need of cutlery. Sierra was clearly frowning.

"Um... Hey, Leo," Jacob began, gently prising his mate's face away from the bowl. Leo regarded him with that blissfully innocent face which was only broken by the prawn that was buried in his left nostril. Slowly, Jacob reached forward and plucked the prawn away, depositing it in one of the other bowls. "You might... erm... Want to use a fork."

"What is a fork?" Leo replied innocently.

Oh boy...

Jacob held up the salad fork. "This. See?"

Leo's eyes brightened in comprehension. "Oh! I see!"

Sadly... he didn't.

The Tribal opened his muzzle, jamming the fork in between his teeth. Jacob's skin crawled as his mate began prising the prawn remnants from in between his teeth, carelessly flicking them across the table. Kerry let out a little scream as a half-chewed prawn flew over her head. Taylor picked up his napkin and held it over his face, blocking him from the barrage.

Peering around Leo, he regarded Sierra warily. Strangely, she was smiling blissfully.

Huh... I guess she understands...

"_Or,"_ Spectre began, "she's really pissed but too polite to show it."

Maybe... I'll just have to be on edge. Though she doesn't seem like the type to really be hard on someone as innocent as Leo.

It was quickly decided that the oyster salad was preferred over the prawn salad. Whether that was in part due to Leo's actions or not, it was never revealed. The second dish was a selection of three soups. This time, all three were presented to them in three separate but much smaller bowls.

Jacob took the time to ensure Leo knew what a soup spoon was and how to use it.

The first soup was a simple cream of pea soup but it was prepared in such a way that a swirl of cream stood out amongst the sea of green. Some mint leaves were left to garnish it. It was pleasant and had a creamy texture that Jacob found comforting but compared to the oyster dish, it felt like a little disappointing.

"It's a little..." Taylor began.

"I don't think we want to follow up an awesome oyster dish with a pea soup," Rex began, setting his fork down. "What's the next one?"

A thick, creamy pumpkin and prawn soup was next. This time, the pumpkin offered a pleasant, sweet, smooth taste while the swirl of prawn stock accompanied by four, peeled prawns offered the same blending experience of contrasting taste as the oysters. The chunks of roasted bacon helped as well.

The third soup a chicken, wonton soup that, while delicious dulled in comparison to the pumpkin soup.

It was quickly decided that the second soup would be the meal of choice even if Leo devoured all the others.

"The fish course is next," Sierra announced, "but before we get there..." Her eyes fell on Jacob, sending a chill down his spine. "You have been strangely quiet, Jacob. I expected you to have exploded and demanded to know about your father at this point."

The thought had been nagging him ever since he entered the room but he had to resist the urge to demand answers. He was willing to wait but since Sierra brought it up...

"If you wouldn't mind..."

"Not at all," she answered, giving Jacob a light nod. "In fact, I'm not sure if you remember, but your father actually took yourself and your mother here at one point. He had built a holiday house on the western half of the city. You spent a week here before business and his research took you away."

Jacob's fists tightened, bending the fork in his paw slightly. "That's... great," he muttered. "What was he researching, though?"

Sierra's eyes were cast down as the fish course emerged from the kitchen. Like the first course, there were two courses divided between them. One was a poached salmon resting on in a sea of thick, creamy, cheesy sauce. Some poached and buttered asparagus sat beside it as well as half an onion. The second dish was a heavily seasoned, grilled swordfish served on a bed of asparagus, corn and peas with some fish stock gravy for seasoning. On both dishes was a lobster tail swimming in butter.

"I wasn't privy to your father's research, sadly," Sierra answered. "Balthazar told me all about his and I got snippets about what Isaac Reaper was looking into." The Elemental Lord frowned softly. "If I remember correctly, your father was constantly asking the question of where the doors in the Graveyard of Doors lead to. Balthazar was wondering where the Unsealed came from and their research intersected, thus beginning their professional camaraderie. They both sought to open one of the doors in the Circle."

Leo looked up, one bit of asparagus hanging from his muzzle. "What is the 'Circle'?"

It was Kerry who supplied the answer. "The Circle is the ring of fifteen doors that stand at the centre of the Graveyard of Doors in Hox. At the centre of the Circle is an enormous crater with a single, black doorframe resting at its centre. All the doors in the Graveyard angle towards the Circle and the Circle itself points towards the doorframe."

"Or," Rex countered, "they could be pointing outwards. None of the doors seem to have hinges so it's impossible to tell which direction they're pointing."

The doe conceded to that point. "Agreed. There have been numerous occult legends around the Circle, stating that the fifteen doors are all somehow connected to how the Seal War was won."

"They never succeeded did they?" Jacob asked Sierra. "My father, that is. He never opened a door, did he?"

Sierra frowned and leaned forward, leaving her food untouched. "Now that... I am not so sure about. Balthazar mentioned an... 'accident' years ago. Your father was caught in the blast. Himself and about twenty others. Only your father survived strangely uninjured. However, he was never the same wolf."

Jacob straightened, lowering his fork as the butlers took away his food. "What do you mean?"

"Balthazar mentioned that your father just suddenly abandoned his attempts to open a door in the Circle. He became obsessed with something he called... 'Realmbreaker'."

Realmbreaker...? What is Realmbreaker...?

Rex placed his paws on the table, leaning forward in anticipation. "Did he say anything about it? Like what it was? What it could do?"

Sierra shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, I wasn't privy to such information. All I know is that it was tied to some sort of prophecy..." She massaged her temples. "Let's see... I think it was something along the lines of... 'One Key and Five Locks will find and bind the Eternal to seek out and reforge the Ultimate. A bridge built to cross Time and Space opens the door to the Connector's Throne. Two keys in one opens the Doors to the Throne that sits empty since the dawn of existence. Two halves of a Heart forges the Crown."

She frowned, closing her eyes. "'Cast away Destruction in one hand, throw Creation aside with the other. Sever the strings of Manipulative Fate and destroy the Altered Roads of the Future. Stand defiant with Key in one hand, Heart in the other and Realmbreaker in the third. Stand and defy Destiny.'"

The Elemental Lord shook her head sadly. "I never gave it much thought to be honest. Isaac never spoke of what happened in the explosion. But he certainly seemed far more driven than before. I cannot know for sure what the 'prophecy' meant but it is my sincere hope that whatever it is does not spell the doom of our existence."

"What makes you think it does?" Taylor asked. "That sounds all like a lot of superstitious mumbo-jumbo to me."

Kerry leaned forward, blocking his view of Sierra. "Don't be so quick to discount superstition, Tayl. Even the tallest tale has a sliver of truth." She clasped her hands underneath her chin. "I don't know what it all means but it said something about 'the Eternal'. Could that be the Eternal Seal...?"

"The Seal that makes other Seals?" Leo chimed in.

"You know about it?"

"Of course!" the Tribal answered, his tail wagging excitedly. "Everyone knows about it! It is the source of MODD's power! And now, we know as well that it is what turns something of great value to make the Seal for an individual!"

Both of Sierra's lieutenants looked startled, the dark-furred wolf even spluttering slightly in his drink.

"What!?" Jenkins demanded. "Where did you hear such crap!?"

"We experienced it," Rex responded, rising to his feet. Despite how his knees were shaking underneath the table, he still commanded authority and somehow maintained his composure. "We've seen and heard all about how people lose something precious to them so they can obtain the power of their Seal. Something or someone is sacrificed for the sake of a Seal's creation."

Wham!

"That is absurd!" Jenkins barked, rising to his own feet. His fist clenched on the table. "I never surrendered anything to obtain the power of a Seal!"

The new wolf spoke at last. "Except your ability to swim."

The orca shot his fellow lieutenant a withering look. "Shut up, Joul!"

Lowering his glass on the table, the lupine lieutenant turned his gaze towards Sierra. "Maybe that is the cause of the Curse. It's a dire price to pay for such power. Although..." His gaze shifted to Rex, the Elemental Lord of Star lowering back to his seat. "It makes me wonder what you sacrificed for your power, milord."

Rex remained silent.

"We're getting sidetracked," Jacob interrupted, lifting his paws into the air. "My dad was looking into this prophecy. It might be about the Eternal Seal. Does Balthazar know the rest?"

Sierra straightened, gripping her cane all the more tightly. "My suspicions say 'yes'. After the accident, Balthazar similarly changed. He became cold. Distant." Her paws wrapped around her frail frame. "It was... lonely. He became obsessed with something he called 'the Ultimate Seal'."

Jacob felt all the gazes around the table fall on him.

"Jay..." Rex began softly. "You don't think that your father and Balthazar were working together... do you?"

Blinding, hot rage bubbled inside of him. "How could you say that...?" he growled softly. "Balthazar killed my father and experimented on me!"

Kerry spoke, her voice like sharp daggers in his heart. "But you've got to admit, Jacob, it fits. Your father was working on 'Realmbreaker' and Balthazar was working on the 'Ultimate Seal', whatever that is. Both their efforts seemed bound to the same prophecy."

Wham!

This time, Jacob was the one who pounded the table. "That doesn't mean anything! Just because they were working on the same goal doesn't mean that they were working together!"

Why am I even defending my father...?

Balthazar wasn't the first to experiment on me...

My dad was...

"Jacob..." Spectre began softly. "You're asking the 'what' but you're not considering the 'why'. Why did your father use you as a guinea pig?"

Why are you defending him?

Spectre shook his head. "I'm not defending his actions, Jacob. I'm just looking out for you. I don't want you to getting hurt any more than you already are."

Who say's I'm hurting?

"You're conflicted. One part of you wants to hate your father. The other can't stand not knowing and is afraid that your father might actually have done things because he loved you. You just love to hate him that doing anything else just makes you lost... doesn't it?"

Jacob clenched his fists tightly.

I've been lost before. I can afford to get lost again.

"These are questions we can ask Balthazar when he arrives," Sierra finished, waving her paws in the air. "However, if you would like to hear the rest of what I have to say, then I suggest you take your seat and we shall continue my tale."

With a colossal effort, Jacob sat back down, fists still clenched tightly. Even Leo's nuzzling did little to calm the raging storm in his heart.

"Balthazar has moved his operations away from Hox in the years since the explosion at that Graveyard. In fact, recently, he has been in great opposition to the CEO of MODD, Don Abad. Rumours have circulated that he is after Don's position but now I am not so sure." She narrowed her gaze. "Bal was never one for outright war. He was a subtle thinker and someone who preferred to fight with shadows and hidden daggers than on the field."

Rex clicked his fingers together. "That would make sense. Mr. Abad has the Eternal Seal under his control if I remember correctly. It is bound to him and that's why he's so rich and powerful. Every Seal can effectively be pointed back to him and his family. If Balthazar is following the prophecy, then that must mean he wants the Eternal Seal too!"

Is that why he had you killed, dad?

You were working on one part of the prophecy and he was working on the other? Then, when he no longer needed you, he killed you?

Jacob's fists were shaking.

Why did you bring me into it...? What was I to you? A son... or just another tool...?

His stomach suddenly felt like it was about to reject every piece of food he had just eaten. Wordlessly, he left his seat and stormed out of the dining room. As he left, he caught Rex quickly holding Leo down and shaking his head. Part of him wanted Leo to accompany him but knowing his track record, he knew it would just end in some half-assed revelation followed by steam-hot-sex.

I can't just keep bandaging myself up with sex...

... no matter how much I want it right now.

The cool air of Angelsea brushed into his fur, making him shiver ever so slightly. His coat flapped in the air as he tried to lose himself in his steps. A confusing jumble of anger, confusion and loneliness mixed with just a little bit of heartbreak filled his mind, sinking into the folds of his brain and burying themselves into his heart.

When his sneakers made soft crunches every time he took a step, he cast his eyes down and found grass where polished marble should be. Once again back on that small garden balcony, he took a deep breath of the sea and stepped out onto the gazebo.

The entire city was afire with the lights of a bustling city that would not sleep. Perpetually in a festival-like state, noises from celebrations filled the air as a soft, muffled music that would have soothed the calm-hearted to sleep.

Sadly, he was far from calm.

He seized a nearby chair, gripping it in both paws. With a tremendous roar, he hurled over the edge. It soared a good sixty feet away before plummeting down to whatever waited it below. Part of him wondered how people would react to falling chairs and took some grim satisfaction at the idea he might have just killed someone. He would have laughed it if landed on a couple on their honeymoon, taking a gondola ride through the rivers.

"Pissed, are we?"

His heart skipped a beat at that voice.

"Jo..." he exclaimed, startled as she stood a few feet away, arms folded against her chest and a smug look on her features.

"I take it the dinner didn't go so well?" she asked.

"Depends on how you look at it," he grumbled bitterly. Unable to take the look of her smug features, he turned his back to her. "On the one hand, I didn't kill anyone. On the other, I may just have ruined a particular couples' perfect evening. Take that however you want."

The vixen stood beside him, leaning on the balcony railings. "What did Sierra say or do that drove you to throwing furniture over the ledge to the massive moat that surrounds this palace?"

Casting his gaze downwards, he caught sight of the ring of water that served as the barrier between the rest of Angelsea and the palace. The waters frothed a little from the multitude of fountains and waterfalls that poured down the side of the palace.

"Shit..." He sighed heavily. "Can't even murder when I want to..." His eyes turned to her. "If I'm going to do anything right tonight, it might as well be this: I'm sorry."

Spectre's jaw dropped. "Wait... What did I miss here?"

"Did I miss something?" Joanna responded, one eyebrow raised. "You're apologising to me? For what?"

Jacob winced softly and turned his back against the railings, leaning back and letting the hard marble sink against his large back muscles. "I was a dumbass. I went on about how I was entitled to my opinion and forgot about the fact that you were just voicing yours. Everyone can have their opinions. Thinking about it now, I don't like being wrong and being right just doesn't feel good when you're always doubting. I think I prefer to just have an opinion."

"That's very mature of you," she said, nodding sagely. "So what did you do with the real Jacob Reaper and where can I get a version of you with breasts?"

He couldn't help but laugh, turning a smile towards to her. "Hey, it took a while but I'm willing to be wrong now so that my opinions change and not just be wrong so I can be right." He pointed a finger at her. "I still think that Hypocrisy was better on its side and demonstrates the tragedy of war."

"Fair enough." Joanna tilted her head to the side, peering up at him with her emerald eyes. "Think you're up for another little visit to a museum before you call it a night?"

Jacob groaned heavily. "Look, just because I made one insightful comment doesn't mean that I'm into art and all. Unless you like the way I arrange corpses. That's art, right?"

"Don't push your luck," she responded, nudging him lightly. "Come on, just one more. What do you say?"

A half-hearted groan escaped him but that was more than enough for his answer.

*****

The house was rotten and eaten away by age and pests. White paint peeled off the walls to reveal the bricks beneath. Blackened tiles slipped off the roof at the gentlest nudge of the wind. The wooden frames had rotted away with termites and age, making the small two-storey home creak and groan every few intervals like it was emitting its dying breaths.

But in just looking at it...

Jacob Reaper could feel the warm sun cascading down from the distant sun, golden rays dancing off the ocean's waters. His feet recalled the touch of the wooden porch as they dusted the planks with sand. The creak of the flyscreen door echoed in his memory as did the playful laugh of his father as he was scolded not to bring sand into the house.

"Where did you find it...?" he asked.

"I heard it in idle conversation during the gallery screening," Joanna responded. "One of the people there was a street artist and mentioned how he enjoyed tagging this particular house." She pointed at the wall on the left. A long time ago, there was no snarling picture of a dragon. Instead, it was painted completely in white and a hammock hung between it and the railings of the porch. Warm arms would wrap around him as Isaac Reaper read stories to him.

"My favourite was Little Snow Girl," he murmured.

"What?"

"It's this story of a little girl who lived up north where it snowed during winter. She was poor and all she could do was sell these snow sculptures that she made from snow she scooped up from the sidewalk. No one ever paid her much attention because she was so poor. One night, she hadn't made a single sale and she was afraid she would get beaten by her parents if she went home without a single coin in her purse."

Jacob smiled softly as he ran his paw down the frame of the ruined door. There was no longer a doorknob to bar intruders. He reached towards the door but hesitated, pulling his paw back.

"The girl began making sculptures of what she really wanted in the world. First, she made a feast where she would never be hungry again. Knowing it was all but an illusion, she cried. Her tears fell on the food and much to her surprise and as if by some great magic, the feast came to life. Eager to see more, she created a house and her next tear brought it into reality. She had food and shelter but she needed one more thing. She created a replica of her brother that she missed so much and when she cried, he took her into his arms and brought him into the house."

Weird... Part of me wants to shed a tear to see if my dad will be just on the other side of this door to welcome me back home...

... But I don't think I've really cried for a long time...

... Nor do I want to...

"What happened next?" Joanna asked.

Jacob turned a sad smile to her. "The next morning, the people passing by found the girl dead. Frozen solid. Beside her were the shattered sculptures of her feast, her home and her brother. But she was smiling."

She inclined her head to the side, giving him a strange look. "That was your favourite story as a child? Are you sure it was Balthazar's experiments that drove you to insanity?"

He laughed softly, offer her a dismissive shrug. "You know you love me."

"If you could be a little more sensitive towards people, that'd be great." She lifted her paw so that her index finger and thumb were just an inch from one another.

"Alright. I promise to pretend I'm apologetic towards people before I kill them in the most excruciating and agonisingly long way possible."

"That's all I ask." Joanna placed her paws on her hips. "Well, aren't you going to go inside?"

The dilapidated house did seem inviting but at the same time, his heart felt too heavy to fit through the door. "Maybe later. When I don't have so much baggage." He flashed her a grin, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. "Don't think this old place can take much more weight as it stands."

"Smart move."

Boom.

Both of them spun towards the inner city. Smoke was rising from somewhere close to the palace. Joanna instantly shot Jacob a venomous look.

"Hey, don't look at me. I was busy trying to keep Leo from picking prawns from his fangs. If you have to blame anyone, blame Max."

Her brows furrowed. "Max? Why Max?"

"He wasn't at the dinner."

Which... should've set off more alarms in my head... Fat-ass like him missing out on free food?

Jacob exchanged glances with Joanna, both of them nodding firmly to one another.

Yeah, I shouldn't known.