Thorne held onto the wood—the material he had he had been given for his mask—fingers tracing its rough texture as he lay inside a hollowed-out tree. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he guessed it was night.
The darkness in his world was always constant, but now it seemed heavier. After a long day of trekking through the forest, he had decided to rest. He was nearing the second location, and every step felt like it was bringing him closer to the next stage of his journey.
His thoughts wandered to the mask he would carve. Would it be a full-face mask or one that covered only his eyes? The choice of mask was crucial.
Masks were not mere decorations; they were what connected people to their gods. For anyone who sought purpose and power, passing the Rite of Liberation and carving their mask was a defining moment in their life.
Thorne knew he could have taken the easier route. His father, Chief Darius, had suggested it—living a normal life, far from the trials of the garden and the uncertainty of the gods' favor. But Thorne didn't want that. He wanted to carve his own path, just like he would carve his mask.
He remembered how, as a child, he had suffered from the harshness of others. The other kids had pointed out a flaw he hadn't even been aware of at the time—his blindness. It wasn't just his inability to see; his eyes, lacking irises and eerily blank, had made him a target.
They avoided him like a plague, keeping their distance as if his blindness were contagious. If not for his status as the son of the Chief, things could have been far worse.
Thorne had spent years isolated, locking himself inside the palace walls, protecting himself from the cruelty of the outside world. He had hated himself and that had fueled him to train, But now, he was no longer that child. He had a purpose, a drive to prove everyone wrong.
In a few days, he would leave this forest, and when he did, he would return alive, having gained the favor of the gods. He smiled to himself as he thought about the looks on their faces when they saw him—alive, stronger, and victorious. The thought of the temple crossed his mind. He still didn't understand how it worked or how he was supposed to approach it, but that was a problem for later.
Beaming a pile of rations from his ring, Thorne ate quietly while thinking over his plans. He couldn't wait to finish the Rite, carve his mask, and start a new chapter in his life.
Hours later, Thorne awoke with a jolt, his senses alerted by the vibrations in the earth. For a moment, he lay still, heart racing as he gathered himself. His spiritual senses, which had grown sharper recently, felt something—something big.
Cautiously, he emerged from the hollow tree, his fingers brushing the bark as he rose to his feet. He had spent part of the night meditating, trying to connect with his source, to discover its secret, and eventually fell asleep.
Now, his spirituality extended in all directions, the range already a good 50 meters. In the distance, he sensed three powerful presences locked in combat. Their energy was compressed, fierce, and he could feel the aftershocks of their clash reverberating through the forest. Curious,
Thorne decided to approach the battleground, his movements slow and deliberate. What kind of beasts could shake the forest like this?
As he neared, he heard it—an ear-piercing scream.
Thorne froze in place. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, his mind raced.
That scream… it sounded like a woman.
His eyes, though blind, instinctively widened as if trying to make sense of the sound.
A thousand thoughts flooded his mind in an instant. What were the odds of meeting someone out here? The forest was vast and treacherous, meant to isolate maskless so they could face the challenges alone.
Meeting another person—especially one in such peril—felt almost surreal.
His first instinct was doubt.
Could this be a trap? The forest was notorious for its deceptive nature. His father had warned him countless times about the dangers of the sacred garden, how illusions and unseen dangers lurked at every turn. The thought crossed his mind that the scream could be a lure, a ruse to pull him into something far worse.
But another part of him couldn't shake the feeling of genuine distress behind that scream. His heart raced, pulling him in two directions. He could ignore it, avoid the risk. Or he could investigate, take a chance that this was real. He clenched his fists.
Damn it.
Before he could think better of it, Thorne moved closer. His senses flared as he approached the source of the scream, the air heavy with tension. His spiritual sight flickered to life, blurring the world around him as he honed in on the scene. It was still blurry, but the shapes were more defined than before—his improved abilities making the world feel sharper, clearer.
As Thorne drew closer, darting silently from tree to tree, his heightened senses flickered with tension. Two thick, oppressive forms of spirituality were closing in rapidly, and he could feel the pounding desperation of the figure fleeing towards them. His heart thudded in sync with her frantic pace, but
Thorne remained still, blending into the shadows of the trees. He had made up his mind to help, but he wasn't foolish enough to throw his life away. If his instincts were right, those spiritual pressures closing in belonged to masked beasts.
A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
Masked beasts were nothing to scoff at. Even with his improved abilities, facing two of them at once was a daunting task, no even if he already carved his mask, it was impossible.
Maybe I should just stay hidden, he thought, the doubt creeping in again.