You awoke. You blinked. You screamed, but no voice emerged from your mouth.

The sunlight blinded you temporarily, but you didn’t evade your eyes. You allowed the pain to sear your eyes as you unzipped your sleeping bag. It was another night of nightmares, and so you were already numbed to the pain.

Your heart was numb and empty, devoid of any warmth. Your motivation to resume your journey drained, much like every morning. So often you wished to die, wished to slumber forever, wish to be rid of the horrors that haunt your dreams. Then, you glance at the colorful wooden mask beside you, and the flames of wrath burn within your heart once more.

For a time, you didn’t need such an external reminder. The inferno that raged within you needn’t any fuel, for the very existence of your memories was enough of a reminder. However, as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you started doubting yourself. You wondered if the end of the journey would bring you peace at all. After all, the fire driving you forward was not of comfort but destruction, and there was little left to destroy.

Upon standing up, you changed into your clothes, uncomfortable as always. You touched your face, your scowl still etched onto your countenance. Sometimes, you wished you didn’t have it, but you were still glad it was there. After all, you didn’t need or want others to approach you. You weren’t a book where the contents on the pages were better than its cover.

Once your makeshift camp had been dealt with, you picked up a fearsome mask, one of many hanging on your backpack, and equipped it. You poured power into the mask, and the mask responded by injecting a power of its own into your veins. Suddenly, you found yourself able to wield the element of the earth once more.

With your backpack pressing against your back, you pressed your hand on the ground. As your hunger pulsed into the earth, nearby signs of life were transmitted into your being. Suddenly, the forest was akin to the palm of your hand.

When the docile beast a few hundred meters away noticed you, it was too late. Despite its struggle, it continued to sink into the ground, unable to escape the earth. Casually, you arrive at the deer-like creature as it bleats with extreme panic. With a forceful and abrupt thrust of your arm, you clutched its mouth. Irritated by the sound it was making, you tightened your grip and, in a blink of an eye, you withdrew your arm.

Without delay, the creature dropped to the ground as if it were a lifeless doll. You released its legs, causing it to collapse to the side, its widened eyes staring straight into your soul. That, too, irked you, so you stomped on its head without hesitation, squashing it like a watermelon. The gory sight didn’t faze you, neither did the blood that was spilled onto your clothes.

Upon removing your mask and hanging it by your backpack, you lowered your jaw and shoved the still-struggling creature, who was now a ghastly blue silhouette in your grip, down your throat. You neither blinked nor gulped as you swallowed the spirit of the crying beast. Eventually, the spirit was no more, and you closed back your mouth.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Violently, you took in a deep breath, savoring the brief moment of ecstasy coursing through your body before a terrible, familiar feeling returned to your chest. You ignored it, as you always did, and marched forward.

During your trek, thoughts bubbled in your mind. You refused to entertain them as they would spur you to question your journey and actions. You’d inevitably hear that familiar voice, asking you if your goal was worth the pain you’ve caused and will cause. Each time you reply, you give a different answer, so you stop responding. No amount of replies would bring you the salvation you oh so desperately hope.

It’s not my fault, you said to yourself. She shouldn’t have returned my memories. This is all her fault, and when I speak to her again, I will tell her of the agony I have inflicted because of her. She will experience guilt, whether she desires it or not, and if she isn’t tormented, I will ensure she does.

That was the mantra you repeated in your mind every time you were near your next destination. Even without the mask, you could detect signs of life when you were close enough to one, and you were close to many at that moment.

As the sun hung high in the sky, you arrived at the edge of a village. You noticed no guards or walls or defenses of any kind. It was just another peaceful, ordinary settlement that was tucked away in the forest. Conflicting emotions burst into your heart, both urging and dissuading you to act.

Minutes later, you noticed children playing at a spot not far from a house. No adults were around them. Hence, you picked a silly mask you painted last night and put it on. When the children saw you approaching them with the ridiculous mask and goofy behavior, they were interested, as they always did.

You played along with them for a little while, refraining from saying anything. A disguise was only as good as your ability to maintain it, and you were very good at keeping your facade. Then, the children asked if they could wear a mask that was hanging on your backpack. They always did, because you were a skilled artisan.

In response, you nodded. You settled down your backpack, picked the mask that the girl before you took a liking to, and stood. Without warning, you gripped the girl’s neck and lifted her into the air. You always relished in and strongly disgusted by the shock and fear on their faces. Could you have done it in a better way? Sure, but that wouldn’t be enough to vent the violence and anger that had long ate your heart.

As the other children screamed and the girl in your grip struggled to breathe, you finally spoke.

“Didn’t you want to wear a mask?”

You threw the mask into the air with your other hand, slapped your palm onto the girl’s face, and pulled back. A ghastly blue silhouette of the girl was peeled out of her body, and when you caught the mask falling back down, her spirit was sucked into the mask. Expeditiously, you slammed the mask back onto her face, and she released a scream that she previously wouldn’t have been able to produce.

Finally, you dropped the girl back onto the ground. The other children were paralyzed with fear as they watched their companion lie motionless on the ground for minutes. Then, she stood back up like a broken doll. Lifeless and erratically, she turned to you, staring at you with hollow eyes. Another failure.

However, it was fine. After all, you crafted plenty of masks yesterday, and the adults had already kindly rushed toward your location upon hearing the girl’s scream.

Alas, you were finally feeling excited. After all, you were certain the modifications to your crafting process yesterday would yield helpful results. Humming, you grabbed two masks from your backpack and strolled toward the other children, a smile creeping onto the mask you wore beneath your face.