The heavy iron gates of the prison creaked open, spitting Ethan back into a world that had moved on without him. Nine years of bars and beatings had hollowed him out. He stood on the pavement, clutching a plastic bag of his belongings, when a man in dark, traditional robes stepped from the shadows.
"I think you will be needing my help," the Shaman said.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you? How do you know me?"
"The fox made your life this way," the Shaman hissed, stepping closer. "Your father disowned you, your empire is dust, and you have nothing. Don't you want revenge on the creature that destroyed you?"
The memory of Lara's mocking smile and the magical curse that forced him to ruin himself flashed in Ethan's mind. "I want to make her life miserable," he spat. "Just like she did mine."
"Good," the Shaman grinned. "Follow me. You will make an excellent bait."
They drove to a secluded warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur and old blood. Shamanic charms and terrifying effigies hung from the rafters. In the center of the room was a jagged ritual circle.
"No immortal or mortal leaves this circle alive," the Shaman whispered. He began an ancient, low-frequency incantation. The shadows in the corner began to knit together, forming a massive, black-furred spirit dog with glowing red eyes.
Ethan jumped back, trembling. "What is that thing?"
"A vengeful spirit," the Shaman said, grabbing Ethan's arm. Before Ethan could react, the Shaman sliced his palm with a jagged blade. Ethan screamed as blood pooled in his hand. "The fox's scent is buried in your history because she dealt with you. This hound will sniff it out and lead us to her."
The massive spirit dog lunged forward, sniffing the blood on Ethan's hand. Its hot, rotten breath hit Ethan's face, and the terror was so absolute that he felt his knees go weak, his pants darkening as he collapsed in fear.
In Ohio, Alaric was finally released from the police station. As he sat on a cramped public bus, his phone buzzed. It was Shed, calling from a luxury lounge in London.
"Al! I did it! I'm a Premier League player!" Shed's voice was full of a joy Alaric hadn't heard in a decade. "Thank you for the wish, man. I owe you everything."
"Shed, listen to me," Alaric whispered, his voice shaking. "Our fates... they've switched. I'm in the fourth division, living in a dump. I'm the one who is supposed to be there."
"So... what do we do?" Shed's voice lost its warmth.
"Lara said you have to wish it back," Alaric pleaded. "Please, Shed. Wish us back to normal."
There was a long, painful silence on the other end. "Al... I've just started to live again. My dad is finally happy. He's resting for the first time in years. Give me a month. Just one month of this life, and I promise I'll fix it."
"No! Shed, don't do this! I can't survive a month like this!"
"I'm sorry," Shed whispered, and the line went dead.
"Shed! SHED!" Alaric screamed, hitting the bus window. The other passengers backed away, staring at him like he was a lunatic.
He sprinted home, tearing through his shabby room until he found his old passport. He rushed to the airport, desperate to confront Shed in person. But when he reached the counter and handed over his credit card, the attendant shook her head.
"Sir, this card is expired. And your visa is no longer valid."
Alaric slumped against the counter, sobbing in frustration. A shadow fell over him. Lara walked up, her face unusually soft. "Seems like you've learned your lesson. Next time, don't trust humans so easily."
"Please," Alaric choked out. "What do I do?"
"I think I've tamed you enough," Lara said, her eyes reflecting the airport lights. "Don't make cocky wishes again. Go home. I'll restore the balance. Everything will return to normal tomorrow morning."
Relief flooded Alaric. He turned to leave, heading toward the taxi stand. He saw a yellow cab parked in the shadows. He blinked—for a second, it looked like a black van, then a taxi again. Confused and exhausted, he climbed into the back seat.
The moment the door slammed, the interior warped. The leather turned to cold metal, and the smell of incense filled the air. He looked toward the front and saw the Shaman. In the back sat the terrifying spirit dog, its red eyes fixed on him.
"Who are you? Where are you taking me?!" Alaric shouted.
"I am taking you where you need to be," the Shaman said. He reached back, striking Alaric across the temple with a heavy wooden staff.
The world went black.