The Mask Behind the scary
The Moonlit Forest slept under a thin blanket of mist, moonlight shattered across the uneven ground. Eran crouched on a branch high above the forest floor, every muscle tight, every breath silent. Voltaro’s orders echoed in his mind:
“Scout the area. Do not fight unless I command it.”
Eran had always been fast, but tonight he moved with the precision of a shadow—his senses sharpened, instincts honed by Voltaro’s relentless training.
He scanned the abandoned black-magic shelter below. The fire pits had gone cold, the blood-etched symbols already fading… but the air still held the sour stench of ritual incense.
Then he froze.
A cloaked figure stepped into the clearing.
Not one of the mages.
Someone different.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Moving with the relaxed confidence of someone who feared nothing—not even cursed land.
The man wore a half-mask of obsidian metal shaped like a wolf’s jaw. The moonlight glinted across its sharp curves, revealing faint engravings etched along the edges.
Eran’s heart pounded.
This was no ordinary follower.
This was the mysterious masked man the black mage had described.
The one carrying the Kaelmoor emblem.
The one behind Krogar’s tragedy.
Eran pressed himself against the tree trunk, narrowing his eyes. The masked stranger scanned the area as if expecting someone.
Then footsteps approached.
Eran’s breath hitched.
Another man emerged from the shadows—this one dressed in noble attire, robes trimmed in gold. His hair was slicked back, his expression arrogant.
Eran recognized him instantly.
Lord Varus Malden.
Minister of Economic Affairs of Kaelmoor.
He was one of the king’s oldest advisors—a man with wealth, influence, and an aura of control.
Eran’s stomach twisted.
The economic minister was meeting with the masked man in secret?
He leaned forward, careful not to make even a whisper of sound.
Varus spoke first, voice sharp and irritated.
“You were supposed to finish the job quietly. Now the king is suspicious, and this forest is crawling with unwanted eyes.”
The masked man shrugged. “Plans change. The orcs resisted longer than expected.”
“Do not excuse failure.” Varus hissed. “The relic must be retrieved before the king learns the truth.”
Relic.
There it was again.
Eran’s grip tightened.
Voltaro was right—this plot ran deeper than anyone expected.
The masked man replied, voice deep and calm, “The Shadow of Ashenveli interferes. We must eliminate him first.”
Varus scoffed. “You can’t kill him. He’s the king’s precious weapon.”
The masked man’s eyes gleamed behind the wolf mask.
“Then we break the weapon.”
Eran felt cold dread run through him.
He had to warn Voltaro now.
He didn’t wait for more. He slipped away, sprinting through the forest, using every shortcut he memorized in months of scouting.
He reached the nearest village outpost, grabbed parchment, and wrote with trembling hands.
MESSAGE TO LORD VOLTARO:
The masked man is real. He met with Varus Malden—the Royal Economic Minister. They spoke about the orcs, the relic, and killing you. I will continue tracking them. Await your command.
He sealed it with Ashenveli’s insignia and handed it to a trained hawk.
“Fly,” Eran whispered.
The hawk soared into the night.
Voltaro sat in his room at the capital inn, reviewing reports from Raven when he heard tapping at the window. He opened it, and the hawk landed on his arm.
Eran’s handwriting.
Urgent.
Voltaro’s eyes darkened as he read.
Raven stepped closer. “Trouble?”
Voltaro folded the paper slowly.
“We move. The masked man is near the forest. And the king’s own economic minister is working with him.”
Raven’s hand drifted to his sword. “Then what’s the plan?”
Voltaro didn’t hesitate.
“We capture the masked man alive. He will expose Varus before the king. And once the truth surfaces, Kaelmoor’s court will burn.”
Raven grinned. “I like it when you talk like that.”
Voltaro stood, pulling on his shadow cloak.
“Gather the others. We leave now.”
Back in the forest’s outskirts, Eran followed the masked man and Minister Varus at a distance. They took a hidden path that curved toward a quiet inn built on the edge of the trade route.
“Strange choice,” Eran whispered. “Why meet here?”
He crept onto the roof, peering through cracks in the ceiling.
Inside the inn’s private room, Varus leaned over a table, speaking low.
“You must leave Kaelmoor once you retrieve the relic. If anyone suspects my involvement—”
“They won’t,” the masked man replied. “You are too valuable for them to question.”
Varus smirked. “That is true.”
Eran clenched his jaw.
Corruption in the court.
A masked assassin.
A relic linked to Krogar’s tragedy.
He had seen enough.
He jumped from the roof, landing silently by the inn’s side door. He rushed inside, found the innkeeper, and hissed:
“Lock every exit. Now.”
The old man blinked. “W-Why—”
“By order of Lord Voltaro.”
That was enough. The innkeeper obeyed immediately.
Eran drew his short blade and positioned himself near the private room.
He just needed Voltaro to arrive.
The inn’s lanterns flickered as Voltaro entered, Raven and two soldiers behind him. Selena appeared moments later, having insisted on accompanying them.
Voltaro scanned the surroundings, eyes narrowing.
“Eran?”
“Upstairs,” Eran whispered from the shadows.
Voltaro nodded and moved toward the private room.
Inside, Varus continued arguing.
“You should have killed the orc leader when you had the chance!”
“He wasn’t there,” the masked man replied coldly. “Someone warned him.”
Varus slammed his fist on the table. “Then kill whoever warned him!”
Voltaro stepped through the door.
“That won’t be happening.”
Both men spun around in shock.
The masked man drew a hidden dagger. Varus stepped back instinctively.
Voltaro walked forward slowly, eyes fixed on the masked man.
“You caused the Krogar massacre. You helped curse their land. And you dare walk freely in my kingdom.”
The masked man laughed softly. “You think you frighten me, Shadow of Ashenveli?”
Voltaro cracked his knuckles.
“I don’t need to frighten you.”
Shadow surged around his arms.
“I only need you alive.”
The masked man lunged first, dagger slicing through the air with lethal precision.
Voltaro sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and slammed him into the wall so hard the wood cracked. The masked man twisted free, sweeping Voltaro’s legs, but Voltaro flipped midair and landed cleanly.
Raven blocked Varus from exiting, blade pointed at his throat.
“You. Stay.”
The masked man growled and launched a barrage of attacks—dagger thrusts, kicks, spinning cuts. His movements were trained, efficient, deadly.
But Voltaro moved like flowing shadow.
Every attack missed.
Every strike he countered with brutal efficiency.
Selena watched with wide eyes—it was her first time witnessing Voltaro against an elite human assassin. His control, his precision, his cold ruthlessness—it shook her to the core.
Voltaro grabbed the masked man by the collar, slammed him onto the table, and pressed a knee onto his chest.
“Remove the mask,” Voltaro ordered Raven.
Raven yanked it off.
The man beneath had hard eyes, scarred cheeks, and a symbol burned on his neck—Kaelmoor’s royal emblem.
Just like the mages said.
Voltaro grabbed him by the hair and forced him upright.
“Now speak,” Voltaro said coldly. “Who ordered the orc tribe destroyed?”
The masked man spat blood but smirked.
“You already know.”
Voltaro’s grip tightened.
“Say it.”
“Lord Varus Malden,” the masked man said. “He planned everything. I was only the blade.”
Varus collapsed to his knees, face pale.
“Lies!” he screamed. “Voltaro—this is a trick—this assassin is framing me—!”
Eran stepped forward, dropping a parchment onto the table.
“I already sent the king the message identifying Varus as the mastermind.”
Voltaro turned toward Varus, eyes cold.
“Your lies won’t save you now.”
As if summoned by fate, the inn doors burst open.
King Toran strode inside with ten Royal Guards. His face was pale—shock mixed with fury.
“Varus Malden,” the king said, voice shaking with barely restrained rage. “Explain yourself.”
Varus stammered, eyes desperate. “Your Majesty—this is a setup—I swear—”
The king held up the parchment—Eran’s message.
“Eran saw you with his own eyes. Voltaro captured your assassin. And this masked man confessed to your crimes.”
Varus began trembling violently.
“Y-Your Majesty, please—listen—I only wanted to protect our kingdom—”
Voltaro dragged the masked man to his knees before the king.
“This man killed Krogar’s people. Cursed the land. Followed Varus’s orders.”
The king’s eyes hardened.
“Take them both.”
Guards seized Varus and the assassin.
Varus screamed as he was dragged away.
“Voltaro! You don’t understand! The relic—they’ll come for it—Kaelmoor is already—”
His voice was silenced as he was hauled outside.
Voltaro bowed to the king.
“Your Majesty, justice begins now. But this conspiracy… it goes deeper.”
The king breathed heavily, then nodded.
“Voltaro. From this moment forward… investigate freely. Anyone involved, no matter their rank—expose them.”
Voltaro rose, eyes sharp with resolve.
“As you command.”
Selena stepped closer, whispering:
“What happens next?”
Voltaro stared at the door where Varus had been dragged away.
“Now,” he murmured, “we hunt the truth in the shadows.”