The Mask of the Departed

The moonlight was illusory, casting a swath of silver-white over the bleak, merciless land of Iron Peak Mountain.

Iron Bone was engaged in a "friendly" exchange with Lady of Death's messenger, flying above the cliffs and cursing nonstop:

"Listen up, you disgusting thing that eats the eyes of the dead! He's Malik's only son and the sole heir of our clan. If you kill him, believe me, I'll bring a bunch of old friends and pay a visit to your lousy, rundown place!

Let Kas go right now, or I'll pluck every last feather off you!"

"Caw~ caw~"

The messenger completely ignored Iron Bone's provocation, holding its head high as it coldly gazed down at the mortals below.

"Damn it..." Morse's head was enveloped in red light. He was clearly furious, but the spirit who had once effortlessly squeezed Blood-Ash's Black Steel into a pulp was powerless against Lady of Death.

He sighed helplessly. Kas had indeed provoked her first, offending the being who demanded the greatest reverence in the Sorrow Mountains.

Iron Bone drifted leisurely toward the foot of the mountain, then heard the crow's call.

"Caw~ caw."

He jolted and flew in front of the crow, his eye sockets widening as much as they possibly could. "Are you saying that if Kas doesn't wake before the first ray of sunlight touches Iron Peak Mountain, his wandering soul will never be able to return?"

The Raven Messenger nodded, then flew to the summit of Iron Peak Mountain to await the moment the moon disappeared.

"Damn it, you..." Iron Bone continued to curse, hurrying to Seneya's side. His voice was exceptionally grave:

"Now we have two choices. First, we hope the brat wakes before dawn. Otherwise, he'll remain like this forever.

"Second..."

He delayed naming the second choice, prompting Isidore, curled up in his blanket, to ask again, "My lord, what's the second?"

"Summoning his soul..." Iron Bone murmured, explaining to the slave who was about to undertake an important task:

"The Rishiman People believe that the soul within the body has three aspects.

"First is the main soul, the foundation that sustains life. It governs consciousness, instinct, intuition, and emotion;

"Second is the wandering soul. It can leave the body and exist and act on its own. During sleep, it can travel far away, even forming connections with spirits in distant places.

"Third is the spirit essence... You don't need to know what that is."

"Kas's wandering soul has made contact with Lady of Death. We have to perform a soul-summoning ritual to bring him back into his body..." He paused and sighed.

"But the ritual requires the blood of a blood relative. Malik is missing, and in my current state, I can't provide any blood either."

The light in Iron Bone's eye sockets flickered fiercely as he stared at Isidore, who was deep in thought:

"You're only a slave, but for the sake of my heir, for the continuation of Zagwell... I may have to break a few taboos."

"Grr..." Seneya, her eyes glowing red, was crouched beside Kas. No one knew when she had appeared.

She accurately found a wooden bowl among the luggage. Her sharp claws cut through the fur covering her wrist.

Blood dripped into the bowl. Then she reached for Kas's hand, but Iron Bone stopped her.

At that moment, Iron Bone was like a beast protecting its young.

His gaze burned as he watched Seneya reach toward his heir. His voice was hoarse and threatening:

"No. I won't allow this. Your curse could interfere with his chances of embarking on the sacred path."

"Grr!"

Seneya growled, the red in her eyes intensifying. The murderous intent in her stare was every bit as fierce as Iron Bone's legendary presence.

She was nothing like her usual silly, adorable self. Her attitude toward Iron Bone was hostile and vicious, like a mother wolf on edge as she protected her cub.

The red light in Morse's eyes gradually dimmed, turning to the purple hue of sorrow. He sighed deeply and released his hold on Seneya.

"I... hope this is the right choice."

The werewolf lifted Kas's hand, gently bit through the skin, and drank his blood.

Blood trickled down the werewolf's arm and into the wooden bowl. Once it was full, sorrow filled Seneya's eyes. She pried Kas's lips apart with her claws and poured the brimming bowl of blood into the Dreamwalker's mouth.

While Seneya prepared the items needed for the soul-summoning ritual, Morse lowered his voice and asked Isidore, "Southerner, can you draw and carve?"

"A little." Isidore nodded. He knew they were at a critical juncture. If Kas died, his own life would be in grave danger.

The werewolf handed Isidore the wooden bowl full of blood and a blanket, then dropped to all fours and ran off beneath the moonlight.

With the materials for one of the ritual items ready, Morse looked at the plain, unadorned blanket.

"Good. Use the blood to draw a Golden-Branch Giant Antlered Deer on the blanket. It can be as ugly as you like, as long as it looks like a deer."

"A deer? I'll do my best."

Time was short, and with his life at stake, Isidore went straight to work. The moment he dipped his index finger into the bowl, a bone-piercing cold seeped from his skin into his marrow.

The chill spread, like the maw of a giant serpent, freezing his marrow into shards of ice and leaving his soul suspended in death.

He glanced at Morse, intending to tell him something was wrong with the blood, but saw the dense, ink-black and crimson light in Iron Bone's eyes. He knew there was no point in saying anything.

His fingers gradually lost all feeling as he drew an extremely abstract deer on the blanket. Its crooked antlers looked like caterpillars piled atop one another, and its body resembled a monkey with twisted limbs.

Seneya soon returned carrying a log. Her claws flew, sending wood chips everywhere as she shaved it into a plank, cut it to the size of a human face, and carved three distinct holes into it.

"A mask. Carve any kind of mask you like."

Isidore quickly worked the rough plank with a short knife. He was quite skilled; after just a few strokes, he had added a nose, ears, and eyebrows to the mask, which had originally had only eyes and a mouth.

"Blood. Coat the mask with blood."

The blood stained the mask red. As Isidore stared at the dark-red mask, its hollow eyes seemed to gaze straight into his soul through the rough, cold grooves streaming with blood...

What kind of strange, terrifying witchcraft was this?

Suppressing his revulsion, he held up the mask and asked, "Is there anything else I need to do?"

"Put on the mask, take the Soul-Summoning Banner, and go to the summit of Iron Peak Mountain."

"What?" Isidore froze, staring at the towering Iron Peak Mountain.

He would never have dreamed that he would become the master of ceremonies for a soul-summoning ritual.

"Isidore..." It was the first time Morse had called the Southerner by name.

"I'll tell you a secret... If you want to leave the Sorrow Mountains alive, the only way is to break a golden branch from the Ancient Oak of Her Tribe. Your master must grant you your freedom and promise to send you home.

"Just do as I say: put on the mask and go to the summit of Iron Peak Mountain. Then I'll tell you how to get past the spirit essence of the sacred forest and touch the Ancient Oak."

Unlike Iron Bone, who used hope to inspire courage, Seneya was much more direct. Her sharp fangs and claws gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

Her murderous growl urged Isidore to hurry. Otherwise, she would kill him the moment dawn broke.

"All right, but I hope you'll keep your promise."

"Iron Bone never lies."

Isidore squeezed his eyes shut and tentatively hung the mask over his face.

When he opened his eyes, he saw hundreds of fearsome warriors clad in Black Steel plate-and-chain armor, standing on the slopes of Iron Peak Mountain and staring at him coldly.

He tried to take off the mask, but found that, despite having no straps, it seemed to be stuck to his face, fused with his skin and impossible to remove.

Iron Bone floated in front of Isidore, staring at the Black Steel Warriors as well:

"Ignore them... You've put on the Mask of the Departed and become a living person wandering among the dead."