At the risk of exhausting ink, I will dedicate this section of the story to explain to you in great detail the mechanics of how masking works, mostly for two reasons.
Firstly, it is important for you to grasp how it works because of a section of the story I will tell you later on. Understanding masking to the level in which I will explain isn't exactly necessary, but I want you to understand it perfectly so that when the time comes, you will be able to understand what you're reading completely.
Secondly, there will be many mysteries I will not be at liberty to divulge, for a myriad of reasons. But the ones I can, I will, like this one. There is no great risk in revealing this one. Just because you know how masking works does not mean you will be able to replicate it without innate talent. It is in the same way that a boar cannot fly just because it understands the mechanics of how a bird does it.
To create a mask, you must be born with the ability. Scant people have that ability; I only met a handful in my time. And even then, having the ability is not enough; one must, with delicate care, make the mask. A slight mistake can make a man go mad or get lost in his own mind.
To understand masking, one must first understand the mind. There are different interpretations according to different scholars and philosophers about what the mind is, but for the purpose of understanding masking, I will tell you what the mind is from my perspective.
One must think of the mind like the oceans; it is vast and deep. There is the shallow part, the deep parts, and the depths. The conscious mind is all of the shallow part and some of the deep parts. The subconscious mind is most of the deep parts and parts of the depths. But at the depths, something lies beyond it, something ancient and powerful. Even now, I shiver as I recollect my encounters with them. It is a mercy, I think, that we cannot access the depths ourselves. It is best left untouched.
So now you understand how the normal mind works. It is an ocean, and you spend all your time submerged in it, most times in the shallow parts.
For those who can mask, ours is a little bit different. We, too, have the ocean, and it works mostly in the same way fundamentally. But we have something else too; we have the land.
Rather than being submerged in just one large ocean, we have lands that we can stand on. The land is how we escape who we are, how we separate our mind into different parts. Each section of the ocean separated by land is a mask, and the land is our gateway. The number of lands we have in our mind is the same as the number of masks.
I hope you at least have a decent grasp on the concept of mind and masking. If not, do keep on reading. It will make much more sense later.
I have two masks, both of which I made subconsciously. It is difficult for me, the real me, to exist as my default self, as you saw. So, my mind made two masks to protect itself from itself.
One was loud and vibrant; he was the mask I wore for most of my younger years before my time on the ship. The other mask was the one I wore for the entire time on the ship; he was shy and timid.
My mother clearly thought neither version was good enough to survive where we were going, so she took it upon herself to create another mask for me.
I do not think she had the innate gift herself, but she understood its mechanics well enough to attempt to create one for me.
I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous it is to make a mask. Even a master of masking can easily err. To make you fully grasp how difficult it is, you're likely to find more success bathing in lava once in a thousand times and coming out unscathed than you are in successfully making a mask.
"Be still," she said.
I nodded. She gripped me by my jaw, her eyes wide and furious.
"This is not a joke, child. No matter what, you mustn't move. There are things that will tempt you to do so, but you must not be fooled. Your life depends on it."
"I understand, mother."
She released her grip on my jaw, rubbed my face, and planted a kiss on my forehead.
"I'm sorry, son, I needed you to understand the severity of what we're about to do. You have a gift meant for gods, but even they fear what lies in the depths. Now lay down, and choose your most comfortable position."
I did as she commanded.
"Close your eyes. You will hear different voices; One of them may be mine, others will be imitations of it. But I will not ask you to speak. Remember that. See you on the other side."
My stomach lurched, and the world spun. Up was down, and down was up. Inside was outside, and outside was inside. Everything felt wrong, unnatural, and then quiet.
There was no sound and there was no light. I was floating in an endless expanse of space. I felt things move, as if they were on the outside; it was brief and random, but every time I felt it, I felt an unnatural chill all over my body.
Then it came, at first a whisper, but slowly it became louder.
"Rio... Thario... LOTHARIO."
The voice dragged me out of my state, and suddenly, I was in the ocean. A storm was raging; rain was pouring down hard. I gasped for air as the waters drew me in and spat me out. I could not swim; I was at the mercy of the angry oceans. Fear gripped me. I flailed and screamed for my mother, but I quickly stopped that as water filled my lungs. I reached out for something, anything, but it was an endless sea. 'I'm afraid,' I thought, alone and afraid. I was going to die here. My mother had left me to die.
But through the raging storm and panic, I heard her voice.
"I'm here, baby, I'm here."
'Where?' I wanted to scream. I remembered her warning and kept mute.
But as if she heard me, she spoke again, her voice cutting through the roars of the storm and the raging ocean.
"I'm here. Follow the sound of my voice. Come to me."
But I did not know how to swim. As if she heard me again, she spoke:
"Throw one arm over your head, then the other. Propel yourself with your feet. The current will bring you to me."
I did as she said. It was more flailing than swimming, but it worked. I threw my hands over my head and swung my legs up and down, back and forth. And the ocean current carried me closer to the sound of her voice.
I could see land now; it was close, very close. I was almost there.
But I ran out of strength. My legs stiffened; my hands grew as heavy as lead. My body betrayed me.
Even worse, my consciousness began to fade; dark spots lined the edges of my vision.
I knew I wasn't going to make it.
'I'm sorry, mother,' I thought. I hoped she heard me.
'Noooooooooooo!!!!' I heard her scream.
But just before I lost consciousness, I felt a hand grab me by my wrist, pulling me.