In the small, forgotten village of Elderglen nestled between the shadows of dense forests, a boy named Orion lived a life of quiet sorrow. His parents had passed when he was young, leaving him and his younger sister, Hulda, to fend for themselves. Their home was humble, a small cabin on the edge of the woods where the autumn winds whispered strange secrets through the trees. But they had each other, and that was enough.
Until the autumn of Hulda's seventh year.
It was during that time of year when the air grew crisp, and the leaves turned to gold and crimson, that the village would fall silent. The children of the village knew not to wander far after dusk, for there were stories—old stories, whispered in the corners of fireside gatherings—about the Scissa Est, The Tattered Man a figure that haunted the forest during the fall. A tall, slender creature draped in patchwork cloth, a grotesque harlequin, its face an empty mask of ivory with blank eyes and terrifying grin. The Scissa Est would come on the last days of autumn, when the veil between worlds was thin, to take children from their homes and carry them away into the heart of the forest.
Orion had always dismissed the stories. His sister, Hulda, however, had a curiosity that ran deeper than the roots of the ancient trees. She would wander the forest in search of things most children dared not touch—strange mushrooms, rocks that shimmered with an unearthly glow, and old stones covered in cryptic carvings.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon began its slow rise, Hulda ventured farther than usual, deeper into the woods, beyond the paths she knew. She had found something—a ring of mushrooms unlike anything she'd seen before. The fungi were tall and delicate, pale as ghosts, their caps a silvery white that shimmered in the twilight. In the centre of the ring lay something that caught her attention, a smooth mask of ivory, the kind that she had heard whispered about in the villagers stories. The Scissa Est's mask.
It was an odd thing to find, an object that didn't belong. Hulda picked it up, her fingers tracing the cold, smooth surface, the hollow eyes staring back at her. She had heard the stories, of course, but she had never believed them. This mask—this cursed thing—was beautiful in its grotesqueness. It called to her, pulling her deeper into the ring of mushrooms.
As she held it, a gust of wind swept through the trees, and the world around her seemed to blur. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, something unnatural. Hulda felt her body grow light, as if the ground beneath her feet was no longer solid. She tried to call out, but her voice was swallowed by the mist that seemed to rise from the forest floor.
The mushrooms began to glow, their pale light pulsing like a heartbeat. The mask in Hulda's hands cracked, as though it had come alive, and a cold wind rushed through the ring, lifting her off the ground. In an instant, the world turned dark and strange. She was no longer in the forest.
Shed had been taken, taken to the spirit world, the land of fae.
When Orion found out his sister was missing, the village was already in a frenzy. The elders gathered in hushed conversations, and the women wept, knowing what had happened. But Orion knew what the elders didn't want to admit: Hulda had been taken by the Scissa Est.
He wasn't foolish enough to think she was dead. No. The creature didn't simply take lives; it took souls. And now, Hulda was lost to the spirit world, trapped in a realm between worlds, where the rules of the living no longer applied.
Without hesitation, Orion made up his mind. He would follow her into the woods, into the very heart of the unknown. He had no plan, no true blade save his rage and his grief, but he had no choice. Hulda was gone, and only he could bring her back.
The forest welcomed him, its dark, ancient trees whispering secrets in a language he could not understand. Days passed as he searched, finding only strange markings in the dirt and the faint echo of his sister's laughter in the wind. The deeper he ventured, the more the forest seemed to change. The trees grew twisted, their branches like claws reaching out to grab him, and the ground grew soft, as though it were swallowing him whole.
And then, one night, he found it. A ring of mushrooms. But this ring was different. The mushrooms were no longer pale, but black and curling at the tips, their stalks twisted like old bones. And in the centre, just as he had feared, there was the Scissa Est's mask, lying on the ground, cracked and broken.
Orion picked it up, his heart pounding in his chest. As he held it in his hands, he felt its pull. It was not the mask alone that called to him—it was the weight of the curse, the ancient force that had taken Hulda from him.
The ground trembled, and the air around him thickened. A cold wind howled through the trees, and the shadows stretched, darkening the sky. Orion knew then that the Scissa Est was close. It was watching him, waiting.
From the mist emerged the creature—tall, impossibly thin, its body draped in mismatched cloth like a grotesque harlequin, its face a smooth, featureless mask of ivory. The Scissa Est was a thing of nightmares, but Orion could feel no fear, only fury. He had come for his sister, and nothing would stop him.
"You seek vengeance," the Scissa Est whispered, its voice a low, haunting hum.
"I seek justice," Orion snarled, brandishing the kitchen knife he had taken from his home. "And I will take back what is mine."
The creature tilted its head, as though amused. It stepped forward, and Orion could feel the weight of its presence, the darkness that clung to it like a shroud.
"You believe you can stop me?" the Scissa Est mused. "You cannot even begin to understand the power you face."
With a scream that shattered the silence of the night, Orion lunged at the creature, driving his knife into its chest. But the blade passed clean through the Scissa Est's body as though it were made of mist. The creature let out a harsh laugh, reaching for him with its long, skeletal fingers.
"Foolish boy," it hissed. "You cannot touch me. I am beyond your understanding."
But Orion didn't back down. He struck again, and again, and again till his arms went limp, the tattered ghost taunting him, his suffering amuse it, once more he brandished his blade with all his hatred he slashed across the creature's side. His blade shining with an angelic green light, This time, the blade met resistance—flesh that was almost too cold to be real. A spray of black ichor erupted from the wound, but the Scissa Est only stumbled back for a moment, unfazed. Its hollow eyes glowed faintly as it stepped closer, its long fingers wrapping around Orion's throat.
"You think you can fight me?" it whispered, tightening its grip. "You are nothing but a shadow in my world."
As Orion struggled to breathe, his vision beginning to blur, something strange happened. The air around him shifted, and a voice broke through the mist. A figure stepped into view, a man cloaked in tattered dark olive robes, with an aura of calm mystery about him.
"You have made your stand," the man said, his voice quiet but firm. "But you will not win this fight.
Before Orion could react, the man raised one hand, and the very air seemed to bend around him. A bolt of purple light struck the Scissa Est, causing it to recoil with a screech that echoed through the trees. The creature staggered back, its form flickering like a candle in the wind.
"You…" the Scissa Est hissed, its body convulsing. "You cannot stop me forever, Hunter."
"Perhaps not," the man said coolly. "But I can stop you for now."
The Scissa Est howled in frustration, its body beginning to disintegrate into mist, dissolving into the air like smoke. The shadows seemed to tear apart, and in a final, violent swirl, the creature vanished.