The colors had glowed and spilled out from the surface, crawling all around him. Energies had mounted, pulling at his being. The threads had come out of the wall and wound themselves around his legs and arms. There had been warmth in them—a warmth that was pleasing and appeasing. There had been power there as well, and it had come pouring into him, becoming a part of him. It had felt as if the mask had tried to soothe his soul, to tell him everything would be alright...

It had only been a dream, though. One that had felt good and that haunted him throughout the day. But he still was troubled and undecided.

So Paul avoided his friends that morning and headed into town. He was going to stake out Alyssya’s house earlier this time. Since she had not shown up in the evening, he hoped to have better luck now.

Maybe his mind was just attempting to rationalize the experience, he thought—and perhaps it was his mind that had tried to appease and soothe him, rather than the mask. Wouldn’t that make more sense?

He walked past the spot of the fight and thought of the man he had helped the previous night. It reminded him this was not the safest neighborhood and he should remain vigilant—even though it was daylight, he could still get into trouble. In fact, it could even be worse with a crowd around that might side with the fanatics.

When he reached the house, he sneaked back into the vantage point he had used the previous day and waited.

Since he would stay on watch as long as possible, he had bought a sandwich on the way. It was in his backpack now, along with a few books and some tools he always carried with him—tools he needed to cast some of the more intricate spells he knew.

He sat down on the floor and pulled one of the books out of his bag. Flipped through the pages, glanced back at the house, then started reading.

A couple of hours passed before he heard some noise coming from the woman’s place.

The door opened and two men came out, along with two women—one of them he recognized as Alyssya.

His heart raced, but he remembered the advice he was given to only approach her if she was alone.

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Though he was strong, and had many tricks up his sleeve, he preferred not to risk it—not when there were so many people milling about.

He tossed the book back into the bag, pulled the bag over his shoulder, and followed the group.

But as time passed, the woman’s entourage grew.

They ended up joining a protest march on the capital’s main street, demanding that all foreigners be immediately thrown off the planet.

It was an unreasonable and irrational request, one he knew the government could never satisfy. Like every other planet in the Weld, Qojja relied too heavily on tourism—not to mention scientific and archaeological research.

He continued to follow Alyssya all day, but not once did he see her stray from her friends. She even seemed to live with some of them, as she eventually headed back home with the same three who had gone with her.

With a sigh, he walked back to his hotel.

Tomorrow, maybe...

***

“There are none more generous than I,” claimed Lord Valerian to his new servant. “But I will not tolerate procrastination.”

Jaob knew this well, for his cousin had spent too much time gaping at the walls—so much so that their master had understandably punished him.

Since Timothy could now no longer serve, Jaob had begged the would-be god to take him in his stead. He was so ecstatic to have been chosen! It was such an honor.

“Of course,” he said with awe. “I would never—”

The master lifted a warning finger, and the young man fell quiet.

“You will not speak unless told that you may. Now. Where was I? Ah yes, there is to be tonight a ceremony of the Ascent. It will be messy. You will, of course, be there to empty the urns and clean the floors.”

Jaob bowed his head so low that his forehead touched his master’s bare feet.

The would-be god jerked back with a grimace.

“That is disgusting! Do not touch me again. Now go fetch me some wine.”

As the young man hurried out, Valerian paced back and forth.

He was tired of being mocked by his peers, of being constantly derided. Could they not see how strong and powerful he was? How he held so many lives in the cup of his hands?

No matter. Soon, he would put an end to all of that.

Oh, how they would praise his name, then. How they would regret their prior transgressions. How they would adore him.

And it was so simple, too.

All he needed was the mask.

It would give him such power... he would rule over them all!

They would not laugh, then, would they?

No.

They had too much adoration for that artifact. They would not dismiss the one who wore it. They would have to respect him then, would they not?

He laughed.

Of course they would.

Jaob returned with his master’s cup of wine.

“Well, you took your time! Did you get lost on the way?” hissed Valerian.

“No, master, I—”

“Quiet!”

The servant lowered his head in shame and lifted his hands to offer the drink.

Valerian snorted as he snatched the cup.

“We’ll make something out of you yet... Maybe. Go, now. Leave me alone.”

Jaob hurried out with a smile on his face.

He was truly blessed.