I will carve you a Mask

[Syrrus]

The great souring landscapes of a forgotten world. There is no war and there is no plague but beneath it all in every corner and every crack there lays a story, no matter the size; big or small, the stories can overwhelm, bring forth a laugh, make it rain, start a storm, strike down thunder and break out joy. No matter the outcome a story that has never been told is always rich. The content might be tiny or it might be large. A hero at the helm or a poor child far behind. Sometimes they shock us, makes us feel tricked, scared or bitter. Happy and Glad.


A story has the power to make people to hate, battle, cry and fall in love.


For every story there is, there's also a Mask.


Collecting the world in the shape of beautiful pearls, memories, whishes and dreams. One step, one word or one gesture can start something grand. It can be the tiny push the boulder needs to rush down the mountain without hesitation. It can be the gasp that brings forth a revelation.


Waiting to be carved for each outcome, each journey, each tear, each laugh, each shout. There is a Mask for it all.

 

[Poe]

The summer heat hung oppressively in the air surrounding the small village, the sun at its apex in the sky. The sound of children’s laughter echoed through the bustling village as they wove between legs of eager shoppers and merchants, small pets scurrying after them with playful yelps and panting tongues. There was a liveliness to the village this morning, a kind of electricity that struck like lightning in a bottle. The people speaking candidly about the world, their hopes and dreams melting into the warmth of the afternoon and neighbors sharing the weight of their yokes as they carried goods to and from their houses. Many faces turned quickly as a breeze billowed through the square, the children’s laughter growing as they looked up to see who had joined their game.


A beautiful young maiden with cornsilk hair danced freely among the children in the square, their hands grasping at hers as she spun them too and fro. A lute player pulling his instrument from his back and bringing it in his hands to pluck out a most jovial tune. People gathered around and clapped, watching intently with brilliant smiles as the woman spun the children, scooping them in her arms one at a time and swaying with the melody. Her hips in harmony and eyes sparkling in the brightness of the sky. Every single day she made her way to the town square and every day they were there waiting for her. Fiona. She stood out like a sore thumb, of course, being a blonde haired beauty is a town of ash and soil. When the music finally came to a stop, the people clapped and cheered, their calls reaching her ears and stretching her smile towards her eyes.


“Fi!” one of the smaller children called, grasping her palms in the air as to beg the woman for just a moment of attention, “Don’t go!”


“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Fiona said warmly, her body crouching to scoop the child into an embrace before letting go and picking up the basket that she had brought into town that day for groceries. She greeted the people around her as they called out her name and waved, many asking of her father and remarking on the weather which, like always, was hot. She curled the basket into the crook of her elbow and started down the cobblestone towards the marketplace, one hand free as she waved to all those who were waving to her. It was strange, the attention, but she had grown to fall in love with the people of the town though she did not know why they felt such affection towards her.


“Fiona!” a deep voice called out after her and she turned immediately on her heel to see a ashy brown haired boy with golden brown eyes jogging towards her with his hand waving wildly in the air. A wide smile on his chiseled features. “Mal?” Fiona said with a smile, “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be helping your father in the fields this morning.”


“With this drought, there isn’t much to do,” Mal said, standing tall with his muscles bulging underneath his tunic. His hair boyishly disheveled as he pushed it back. “I was just coming to see if you had any plans to go to the summer festival in the square tonight. I mean, I already promised your old man that I’d bring some of the little harvest we got over, I could pick you up one my way and we could head over together — if you want.”


“Of course, I promised Nayru that I would help at her booth for a little and the children will be there, so how could I refuse?” Fiona said, looking up at him and his heart skipped a beat though he kept himself cool in her presence. “Really? Well, cool then. I’m glad,” Mal scratched his head, “I’ll be there around sundown, if that’s okay?”


“Sounds perfect, Mal,” Fiona nodded and the man smiled even wider, if possible, at her eagerness to attend the festival. He lifted his hand up to wave as he back stepped a few times before starting off into a walk in the opposite directions. “See you then, Fiona!” he called back with a new spring in his step.


Meanwhile, Fiona kept her pace and her eyes on the people around as she walked deeper into the market place. Normally, she would have turned down Mal’s invitation — or any man’s invitation — but with the sun so high in the sky and the way the air settled around her, Fiona knew that something was going to happen today. Something incredible.

 

[Syrrus]

He stepped through the village of ash, looking like a bright puppet from a shopkeepers window. It was strange, almost unnatural how the grey winds and heavy dust didn't seem to be able to stick to his cloths in the same fashion it did to most things and people, almost as if someone had cut him out of a painting and placed him in a illustration, protecting him from the colours in the vibrant sunlight and the harsh air which surprisingly didn't cause him to gasp. It wasn't just his purple attire that made him seem almost alien to the people around him. Even though the great heat caused the ability to fry eggs on the stone floors the strange man seemed once again untouched. It was odd for he wore a great long coat, a silk shirt with big arms, tied together by his wrists thanks to golden bands. The man was also carrying a big heavy backpack which caused him to walk slightly hunched forward and even though it looked like he was far too weak to carry such a heavy burden he still managed to walk calmly past the people, some would turn to look at the curious sight as if he was a animal trapped in a cage. Some would look away, terrified of what they had noticed, the masks hanging from the pack was all they needed to know exactly who this man was.


"Happy!" A child shouted over the commotion. The child and his friends had noticed the man after staring at a young woman who had caught even his eyes, causing the heavy burdened man to stop and watch in silence with that strange and blissful smile planted upon his lips. The children ran forth, grabbing hold of his cloths, arms and bag with tiny hands. 'Happy' as he had been called many times before peered down at the children with grey eyes, almost like the coldest of stone. He watched them silently, as if he was studying a painting and it wasn't until one of the boy tried to grab onto one of his masks, a red one; which was hanging off the side of his rucksack that the man snapped out of what could only be described as a trance and with a flexibility that should have been impossible for someone in his attire, with his skinny legs and the heavy burden he jumped a side, avoiding the hands of the child.


"See but not touch." He said, calmly as a summers breeze. The children looked at him in awe, wondering how it could be possible for him to be both so fascinating and strange at the same time. He was popular with the children but the adults, the ones that now pulled the kids away from him did not understand why. The man was creepy, he was different and freakish. His red hair and pale face suited the village ill. Happy didn't seem to mind however, he didn't even seem to notice the look of terror that the women was giving him as he slowly continued walking. They never did him any harm but it couldn't be a coincidence that the man appeared at the same time every tent or so year without looking older. Something wasn't right and most of them didn't want anything to do with what was wrong.


Some people would however greet him kindly, some older men and women who had seen him so many times before. He would show up at the same time every ten years, carrying that heavy backpack of his with a new mask to show them who asked. He would show them, tell them about the story behind the mask that he so skillfully had carved but he would never let them touch it, he would simply smile at them who asked and gently explain the reason as to why and no one would ever ask him anything again, for what point was there to ask someone who didn't give a proper answer? If people only knew that his answer didn't lay in their question but in the stories he carried around with him, if they only understood his purpose their questions would be no more and then would know everything there was to know. Of course, then the world would truly have gone topsy-turvy.


Happy continued walking, slowly across the marketplace, nodding at them who greeted him and sometimes even give them a wave but he would do nothing else until he spotted the young woman from before with her golden locks that resembled the strong beams of sunlight tears. He would stand there and watch her in silence for he never interacted with anyone until they interacted with him. The man would simply observe, unphased by the great heat from above and untouched by the ashed below.

 

[Poe]

All the while Fiona meandered through the market, she could feel eyes on her. It took all her strength not to turn around immediately, but instead she just brushed it off to the best of her ability. There were often eyes on her wherever she went, but this felt different. One turn of her head and she wasn’t sure what she would see, so she kept her attention on the people and goods in front of her. After a few moments, she had managed to gather a basket of herbs and fruits, her hand turning a tomato in the light as she glancing over to those passing by and greeting her by name. Gingerly, she placed three tomatoes in her basket and paid the merchant, a genuine and warm thank you on her lips.


Tonight she would make her father dinner, as he was too ill to do so himself, but she wanted it to be special. It was the night of the summer festival, his favorite night of the year, and the fact that he was bed ridden broke her heart. It was the least that she could do — to make him his favorite dinner and sit with him a while before letting his heart swell at the image of her and Mal heading off to the festival together. Her father was not a fan of many men, but Mal was his pride and joy. He’d never had a son but she had heard time and time again that if he had, it would be a man as reputable and strong as Mal. Grabbing a few more vegetables, Fiona paid the last merchant and pushed her curls back, the hair cascading down her back and catching the sun. In that moment of blinding light, she inadvertently glanced over her shoulder.


And there he was.


A strange young man with sickly pale skin for these parts, his hair a warm ginger and body far too slight for the load that he carried. His clothes were jubilant and odd, offsetting the purples with gold accents as though he was some sort of jester. Fiona tilted her head gently in awe of the man, nothing but intrigue on her features, and her feet began to move of their own accord. Before she could make any attempts at stopping herself, she was walking slowly but with intent towards the strange man before her. “Excuse me,” she said warmly, a smile ever-present on her lips as she stepped closer. His eyes never left her once. “I’m not sure we’ve ever met. I’m Fiona Marin — I gather from your attire that you’re new to these parts?”


She pulled her basket between her hands and let it hang down in front of her in an almost uneasy gesture. There was something about this man that drew her to him — though she could not pinpoint just what it was. “What’s your name?”

 

[Syrrus]

The young woman would speak to him. She had noticed his presence early but hadn't turned around. He never expected her to but like many times before he knew that she was going to turn around and the sun would dance over her already golden locks and her eyes would gaze upon him for the very first time. Poetic, perhaps, strange? Maybe. Happy hadn't been following her on purpose; he went where his legs took him and they had walked the same path as she had which was why she now had spun around and approached. He had been humming that tone, that small melody that caused shivers to go up people's spines and make children to turn their heads with curiosity in his eyes. It was a song so old that nobody knew it and at the same time so beautiful that no one dared to sing it. It felt like it belonged, as if it was as ambient as the wind through the tree. As if it had always been there and at the same time, when she stopped before him and he would go silent it would have completely slipped through their fingers like golden sand and be forgotten.


Fiona was her name and she seemed to believe that he had never been there before, he wouldn't blame her, he never blamed anyone for it wasn't his place to judge. He watched her silently as she spoke, asking questions that had little weight if any. The question that all men and women asked millions of times during their life time, a question so small that it almost seemed irrelevant. He smiled at her, waiting calmly for she had broken the rules like them before and after her. "I go by many names." He responded softly, his voice deep, weak and strong, juvenile but wise. "Some call me Happy, other calls me the Storyteller. And I have been here many times before, though the place shifted and changed during my absens."


Happy bowed before her, with such easy that he didn't even seem to have anything leaning against his frail back. "My name is Valerik Razmakk and I am the Mask Maker." He would close his eyes, listen to the noise of life around him before standing back up and look her straight in the eyes again still with his gentle smile planted upon his lips. What he would say next would shake the fabric of the universe, it would play a ballade upon the strings of the world and set something in motion. He knew that before he even said it, his eyes was filled with the wisdom of stories past and future. He knew it all, the story already spoiled in fragments for him but not enough to explain its outcome or aftermath, not enough for him to see the whole picture.


Happy opened his mouth, separated his thin lips after a long pause and without further hesitation he simply asked her a tiny little question a question of little purpose and no reason.


"You will meet with a terrible fate, won't you?"

 

[Poe]

The tune that the strange man hummed was strangely soothing, while the melody seemed familiar there was something so distant about it that she dared not comment on it. Their entire encounter txusfar had been a sea of uneasy feelings that, for some reason, did not feel out of place. It was as though her body was reacting to his presence without consent of her mind and she eyed him carefully. Fiona wasn’t looking for anything particular but she just gazed over his face one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed something. The way he was looking at her, it was as though her question had spoken far more than she had intended.


The smile on his face was so serene it made her grasp her basket uneasily. His voice, a strange combination of every one she had heard before, emerging from his throat as he introduced himself a Happy. The Storyteller. Valerik Razmakk. The Mask Maker. The smile never left his face as he spoke to her and Fiona cocked her head to the side. So many names for one man. Valerik. Happy. The Mask Maker. Her eyes flickered to his backpack quickly and she noticed the masks hanging from his luggage. The urge to touch them was overwhelming but she could not bring herself to do so. If he as a Mask Maker, these were his. These were his stories. She could not overstep such boundaries as to attempt to touch them.


Neither of them had spoken for a moment or two, instead just standing in the reaction they had created in the electric air around them. As much as he unsettled her, Fiona could not bring herself to walk away. It was almost as if her body was crying out to stay and see what happened next. What would he say next? What work of fate was this? When he opened his mouth next, his words hit her in the heart with deadly accuracy.


You will meet with a terrible fate, won’t you?


There was another moment of silence between the two before Fiona managed to find her own breath. “A terrible fate?” she said incredulously. How could this man know of her fate? Her future? She furrowed her eyebrows in thought for a moment before relaxing her features, looking up at Happy with a curious expression. “How do you know about my fate?”


“No, forget that last question—“ Fiona caught herself, waving her free hand in the air before brushing the hair out of her eyes to get a better look at his face. “I do not care how you know of my fate, I just want to know why you would tell me.”


“What are you trying to tell me?” Fiona asked.

 

[Syrrus]

Happy would watch her in silence, he knew that his statement - for it was more a statement than an actual question - would stir many wonders with in her. He would have been surprised if it didn't. Though many thought him to be either wondrous or crazy, it all depended on their own mental state and their story. This girl whoever seemed to believe him. It almost saddened him a little that he wouldn't be able to explain himself. It didn't sadden him much, mind you, he still looked unphased with his smile plastered upon his thin lips.


He wasn't allowed to tell her. No, he couldn't. No... he didn't wish to. In fact, Happy wasn't a cruel man - if you could even call him one - he was simply too different to feel any kind of compassion towards her and the path she was going to take or the result of her staying still. Every story mattered much to him, like gemstones in a bag of coal. They were all beautiful and they dotted his existence with their presence. This was why he didn't wish to explain to her what he knew, even though he wouldn't be able to even if he tried.


He also knew, however, that explaining his reasoning to the young lady could lead to a completely different story with a greater impact than the original. There was all too many options and results to be investigated and he wished to explore them all. Perhaps some would call him curious though he knew for a fact that it wasn't true. He was careless and yet so compassionate that it made his heart ache. It was odd, in fact, that he felt so much and at the same time so little of what was about to unfold.


"I'm not trying to tell you anything, my dear." He said, still with that strangely blissful smile upon his lips. He pulled on his backpack, making it bounce upon his fragile looking body. "A terrible fate, a beautiful fate." He continued, calmly as he watch her with his burning embers. His eyes seemed to have caught the light of the sun and was now glowing in a strange yellow light instead of the dusty grey glow they had been consumed of earlier. He was looking at her but for a split second his eyes fell upon a child who ran past, playing with a stick she held in her hand.


"I have seen them all. The start of a pretty beginning, a small existence. I have watched them grow, missed small details but the result has always been blooming no matter its colour. Some red, yellow, blue and even black. The colour changes depending on choices and decisions made. As all things that begins and grows, a ending is not far behind."


Happy looked back upon the young woman in front of him. Fiona, as her name was. "A fate you all experience but unlike many others you won't face it alone." He looked around, upon the people filling the market. Upon the elders, the young and the children. Upon salesmen, housewives and workers. Happy looked upon them as if they were all one and the same.


"A terrible fate."

 

[Poe]

“A terrible, beautiful fate?” Fiona asked, her hands gripping her basket tightly but not in an aggressive gesture, just a confused one. His eyes were on her as she spoke, looking at her as though he could see through everything she was, everything she was not, and everything she had ever wished to be. For some reason, when she spoke, she did not doubt the validity of his words. There was a strange strength to them that was likened to the calm before a storm. The rumbling in your bones that weather this way comes.


Fiona was, however, enamored by his words as he spoke them. The beginnings, existence, the color of what she could not decipher. His prediction…or maybe more so truth that all beginnings and ending are connected through grow settled within her and suddenly she was questioning. If every beginning, ever growth, was met with an ending — then the world was comprised of fate and destiny. Everything predetermined in the grand scheme of things and her heart beat heavily in her chest. If that was true, whether she exercised choice or not, the world would keep on going and growing. She was insignificant. Or maybe she wasn’t, maybe she was so significant because without her existing at this exact place and time, a choice could not be made.


Her right hand released her basket and gingerly grasped her forehead. It was a lot to take in, a dizzying amount of thought ignited from a stranger’s comment. Why had it struck her so deeply? “A fate you all experience, but unlike many others, you won’t face it alone,” she repeated, more for herself than anything. “Are you telling me that there’s something I have to do? A choice I have to make? But unlike others, I won’t face it alone…” she released her forehead and brushed the tendrils of golden hair from her eyes, “A terrible fate. Right, I understand that part.”


“And I assume that this terrible fate is something that I must face,” Fiona let out a deep sigh and let a smile grace her lips. A laugh bubbled out of the anxiety in her chest and for a moment her face lit up with excitement, “Well, okay then. I guess it’s settled. If fate’s involved, I don’t have much choice — now do I?”


“What am I supposed to do?”

 

[Syrrus]

Happy continued to stare into her eyes, it was as if he couldn't see her at all. In truth he saw more than just a mortal shape. He could see a light, burning and warm. He's smile never failed and it didn't seem as he was going to every his gaze any time soon. Question still stood though, she wanted to know how to change what was about to happen. Could he tell her? He supposed not. Perhaps? Maybe not, but then again... No.


Yes, he probably could tell her something.


Just something small.


"You'll have to walk very far." He said. As if it was going to stop her. There was probably nothing he could say or do that would hinder the woman from taking her part of the story. A part that he had given her all by mistake. "How far does one have to go to escape death?" He asked her and then he moved his eyes, he averted his gaze and it landed on top of the great volcano in the distance. She would have to walk very far and to different corners of the world to stop what was going to happen and she had so little time. During the third day of the festival, when the stars was going to rain from the sky, one by one, everything would be lost.


He had even prepared a mask for this exact reason. It was hanging over his backpack, by the back. A red and white mask with big innocent eyes and one blue splatter of paint just below one of them, at the corner of the eye. Looking almost like a mask you'd give to a bride just before a wedding.


Perhaps that mask was meant for a completely different tale?


He looked back at her and placed his hands over the straps of the pack. Continuing to smile. "I will guide you to the end of the world, the corners and the cracks. You'll learn on our way what must be done." It was fairly simply. She wouldn't fail. He felt it in his bones.


He then started walking, towards the northern gate of the city as if they had little time to waste. He wouldn't give her time to think. She would have to make the decision now and take whatever she needed for he wasn't going to wait for her. He had places to be, stories to experience and he was going to guide he through them all would she follow. If she didn't well... then he'd guide no one and the city would be doomed.

 

[Poe]

“How far does one have to go to escape death? Well, I suppose to the ends of the earth,” Fiona said with a soft smile but the moment she saw his eyes avert to the great volcano in the distance, her heart sunk. Was something going to happen with the volcano? They were not so far out of its purview that they would not be effected. If it were to blow, in any capacity, the town would be consumed in the ash — but then again, the volcano had been dormant for years. She had never seen it threaten or even rumble under their feet. Every once in a while the wind would catch the old ash from the mountain top and carry it into town. While the children here had never seen real snow, they had laughed and frolicked in the dark speckled flakes falling from the sky. Suddenly she could only see the remnants of her town, buildings burned and bodies encased in the toxic ash. Her heart and breath caught in her throat.


“The volcano?” she said to him, her voice more uneasy than she would have liked it, “How am I — how can we —“


She looked up to see him walking away from her with the promise of guiding her to learn of something to accomplish something else and her head was spinning. When she had made her way to the market this morning, she had never expected to be tempted to follow a strange man to the ends of the earth. But why her? Why now?


Well, why not now?


He hadn’t given her any time to decide and in a split moment as he began to make his way away from her she had started to make her way towards one of the other young women in the market. She was slight and her hair matched the ashy brown of the others, her eyes wide but kind. “Kanae,” Fiona said quickly, handing her basket off towards the woman, “I need you to bring these to my father and then find Mal. Tell him that I need him to watch over my father for a short time. I do not know how long I will be gone but there’s something I must do.”


“Fiona, wait—“ Kanae grabbed the woman’s arm and looked on her with concerned eyes, “I saw you speaking with that strange man and now you’re running after him? What is going on? What is so important that you need to leave right this very moment?”


Fiona looked back at Kanae and then towards the volcano, towards Valerik. A strange smirk appeared on her lips as she glanced back at Kanae, “A terrible fate.”


Before Kanae could stop her, Fiona had broken into a run to catch up to the strange colorful man who was quite far away. Once she reached him, she tried to keep in step with him, her eyes cast on the northern gate of the city as they made their steady approach. Fiona did not have much to say but her bones were riddled with lightning, her fingertips numbed at the adrenaline and fear — but excitement — for what lied ahead.


“What if I fail?” she asked, regretting the words the moment they escaped her lips. It was a doubt that consumed every inch of her.


A terrible fate. How could a woman like her stop such a terrible fate?

 

[Syrrus]

He hadn't seen her run of nor had he noticed her joining him until she opened her mouth and blurted a question. Happy kept his eyes on the journey ahead, one hand on the belt connecting him to his heavy burden. He walked past the city guards without looking at them and they didn't even look at him. It was as if they couldn't see him. The strange man walked slowly, putting one leg in front of the other with his eyes on the road. The smile that he had given the children, the strangers and Fiona was still plastered on his lips.


What would indeed happen if she failed?


He walked through the gate to get hit in the face by the strong sun once again, without getting blinded he simply continued. Walking over the ash and the dark brick road that trailed off and became dirt beneath his feet. He walked away from the great city towards the green and vivid forest that lay not too far beyond. He could see the trees from there.


"Failure is inevitable. No mortal soul can escape death. They can only do their best to keep it at bay." He said, not very helpful at all. He looked towards the forest and then turned and walked backwards, looking at the south where the ocean lays and then to the east where the ice mountains grew and then to the west where the great canyon could be spotted. "You have a long way to go." He said and turned to once again face the path they were walking. "The path is dangerous and I cannot aid you. The swamp is covered with poison and decay, you will have to find a way to clean the water and purify the air."


It was hard to tell if Valerik actually meant proper decay and proper poison or if he was speaking in tongues. There was indeed poison in the swamp and decay in the forest. Great troubled for them who lived there and she would have to clear the air all by herself. He would simply point he in the right direction. There was little else he was allowed to do.


They were soon surrounded by tall threes. Moss were growing over the trunks and great vines was falling from the branches above. Happy sat down in between two great oaks and placed his backpack on the ground, sitting down next to it with a heavy sigh. He was tired from walking but it wouldn't wash away his face. Instead he would continued to look at the road ahead and then up at the sky as if he had never seen it before.


From nowhere he pulled a cup and a kettle, probably from a pocket in his backpack and he poured already hot tea into it, gently handing it towards his companion. "Would you like something to drink my dear? He have an awful long way yet to go. I so adore tea."

 

[Poe]

His words shot a shiver through her spine, her hands visibly clenching at her sides at the idea of failure being inevitable. No. She could not cheat death, of that she was entirely sure, but that didn’t mean she would fail. If the world needed something from her, she would not allow herself to fail. The information didn't even seem to affect him as he walked into the deepness of the forest, his feet traveling on forward but his body turned back towards her. A long way to go? A dangerous path? She looked beyond him into the forest where the air had undoubtably gotten more dense as they walked. She found a cough lodged deep in her throat but did not let it escape. If this place was really overrun with poison and decay, she had to do something. There was no way the animals or the surrounding towns would survive.


But it was clear by his words that he had no intention of helping her. A mouthy guide with little bite behind his bark. Fiona remained silent as he made his way into the tall trees, settling himself between two oaks as though he hadn’t just informed her that the air here could harm people and animals. She eyed him incredulously but then glanced out back towards the path that led out of the forest. They were not so far in that she could not make her way out — at any time she could make a run for it and head home. Or she could make it into the next town and she knew that a messenger to her home was all that was needed to send Mal riding off into the forest to find her. Both seemed like attractive options at the time. How could she help anyone if her guide was so keen on being cryptic? How could she even know what was truly wrong if he would not tell her?


When he offered her tea, she remained silent but shook her head politely no. Instead, she made her way over to one of the trees and slid her fingertips down the bark of one of the neighboring trees, tracing where the exposure to the poison had eroded away the tree and left nothing but scorched and rigid markings. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she realized that it wasn’t just the people who would suffer, or the animals, it was the trees, the fauna, the flora, everything. If she could not find a way to purify the area and clear the air, there would be no hope for any of them. Was this really her destiny? To save people?


“Death is inevitable,” Fiona said under her breath but her voice was loud in the silence of the forest, “but failure is not. Whether I save this place or not, whether I can stop the volcano or not, people will die. Everyone will die, someday, that’s the law of the universe isn’t it?”


“But I won’t fail them,” she said, entirely sure of herself and not a trace of fear in her voice, “I will never let myself fail them so long as I have breath left in my lungs. I can’t save everyone, but I’ll be damned if I don’t save all those I can.”

 

[Syrrus]

"A great adventure." The man hummed, smiling into his steaming cup of tea. He seemed rather pleased with the sudden turn of events, in fact he seemed rather pleased with everything. Perhaps that was why Happy had gotten the nickname in the first place. No matter how things turned out, no matter how tragic he would always keep on smiling. He was the observer and nothing else. Peering up at her with one eye closed. His eye, now sickly green studied her while she spoke. She was talking like a true hero, like something from story book. Perhaps the mask he had made was meant for a completely different story after all.


"In my pack..." He said as his gaze darted towards his back pack, sitting steadily on the ground next to him. He took a long pause while drinking his tea, sipping and enjoying the sweet flavors of too much honey. He mused and for s split second it seemed as he had completely forgotten what he was talking about. He then seemed to snap out of it after humming that usual tone of song. "...There's an item you might need. What you use it for is all up to you, I will not judge."


In his pack, at the top - as if he had known all along that this was going to happen - lay a bow. A beautiful golden bow, without any arrows. Of course it wasn't only a bow. In the hand of its owner, which strangely was no other than Fiona, would change its shape to her desire and her desire alone. It lay as a bow in his pack but would she wish of it to be a sword, a hammer or perhaps nothing more than a stick; the tool with transform and warp itself in no time.


Happy placed the cup against the ground and watched it turn into a red rose as he got up on his feet, stretching his back which was all too happy to be rid of the heavy load. He continued to hum, sing that song which caused some people to hide indoors, grief or wonder. Happy stand, looking at nothing in the distance while whistling and humming to himself. It almost seemed as if the wind itself stopped to listen. He then started to walk around the tiny aria, looking at the trees as if he hadn't seen them until now. He watched the bark that was covered with moss.


"The Wood land creatures lives in the swamp. They don't usually speak to your kind but I am certain with the right conviction they'd gladly host you in their great halls." He spoke to Fiona, though it seemed as he was talking to the tree. He was a rather strange man. Spinning around with great excitement - like a child who's just been given a gift - he placed his hands together, clapping once. "Perhaps they might know what has to be done? Or even better! Perhaps they have a terrible faith to share with us? I can hardly wait."


As on cue, a noise of someone panting could be heard between the trees. A small creature, not taller than to Fiona's knee, came running fort. He looked little different than a elf with pointy ears and simple cloths. What made him stand out was the fact that his skin was entirely made out of bark. The little creature seemed terrified. He tripped and hit his head on a rock, just between Happy and Fiona herself. He didn't faint, it simply grabbed its head and cried. What was following him was something out of a nightmare and Happy simply stepped aside, in between the trees.


The nightmare was tall, it looked like a wolf and a man split together but strange black tar was dripping from its form. It had piercing orange glowing orbs and a howl that could turn any brave soul pale with fear. It was tall and hunched, walking on two strong legs while pulling its thick arms with it, creating create black and acid looking patterns behind it. It was almost as if the creature had been laying within the swamp, decaying and rotting away for years and been woken by something terrible. It wasn't very quick, in fact it almost seemed strange that the creature had managed to chase the woodland boy at all.