The choices Asher makes weigh heavily on him, pulling him deeper into a world where power and morality are in constant conflict. Each use of the mask chips away at his soul, and the people closest to him begin to notice. As the price of his power rises, Asher must decide whether to continue down this path of destruction or risk losing everything he holds dear.
The cold wind whipped past his coat, brushing against his skin like a reminder that he was still human—that he hadn't yet been entirely consumed. Asher stood on the rooftop of an abandoned office complex in the old quarter of Halcyon City, the skyline fractured by fog and broken neon signs. Down below, the world moved on, indifferent to the war waging within him.
His fingers dug into the rusting railing, tension shaking his knuckles white. Every breath felt sharp, edged with something unnatural. He could still feel the energy lingering beneath his skin, crawling just beneath the surface like it was alive. Like it was waiting for permission to devour him from the inside out.
"How long until I'm just a puppet?"The thought came unbidden, brutal in its honesty.
The mask—no, the entity that was the mask—had grown more invasive since the last battle. It whispered less like temptation now, and more like a command. The moment he'd put it on again during the rooftop fight, it hadn't just lent him power—it had taken something. Something vital.
His memories were beginning to blur at the edges. He couldn't recall the sound of his sister's laugh, or the exact tone of his father's voice. Faces, names—they were becoming fogged. Not gone. Just… shelved. Like they didn't matter anymore.
Behind him, a soft click of boots against gravel cut through the silence.
He didn't turn. He knew that walk. Knew it in his bones.
Kara.
"Still thinking about it, huh?" Her voice was steady, calm—but it held a quiver, like a violin string pulled too tight.
He nodded slowly, the wind tugging at his dark hair. "Every minute. Every second."
Kara stepped beside him, her arms crossed over her chest. She stared out at the city, her expression unreadable. "You haven't slept. You're disappearing on us. I know you think you're hiding it well, but... we see it, Asher."
He swallowed hard, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't want her to see him like this. He didn't want her to understand—because if she did, she might pity him. And pity, more than anything, felt like death.
"You ever wonder what it's like?" he finally said, his voice thin. "To hold power in your hands and know that no one—not even the gods themselves—can stop you? But also know that each time you use it… you're trading pieces of yourself away. Like coins you didn't know you were carrying until your pockets are empty."
Kara looked at him then, really looked at him. And for a moment, she wasn't just his closest friend—she was the only tether left keeping him human.
"You're scaring me, Ash."
He forced a grin. "I scare myself."
Silence stretched between them, the weight of unspoken truths threatening to crush them both.
"You can still stop this," Kara said at last. "You're not gone yet."
"But I'm going," he murmured. "Piece by piece."
Her hand reached out, warm and real against his arm. A simple touch. But it grounded him for a second. Reminded him what it felt like to care.
And that terrified him more than the mask ever could.
He stepped back. "If I stay, I'll hurt you. You know that, right?"
"And if you leave, you'll be alone. I'd rather bleed beside you than watch you drown from a distance."
His breath caught, but before he could answer, a harsh buzz from his pocket pulled him back. A message. No name. No sender. Just words etched in cold fire:
You're running out of time. The mask's power is waiting. Come find me.
A tremor ran through his spine.
He didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Asher turned toward Kara, but his eyes had already changed. The shadows inside them had grown.
"I have to go."
She grabbed his sleeve. "Asher—"
"I'll come back," he promised. He wished it didn't sound like a lie.
Then he vanished into the night, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the wind.
He didn't remember how long he'd been running.
The city blurred past in smears of shadow and flickering light. The message burned in his mind. Whoever had sent it… knew about the mask. Knew about him. That alone was reason enough to be terrified.
He slowed as he reached an alleyway tucked behind a crumbling cathedral. His senses buzzed like a live wire. Something was wrong. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to hide, to not be here.
But he didn't run.
And that's when he saw them.
Figures. Seven, maybe eight. Standing in a half-circle, their faces obscured by darkness—masks, hoods, and shadows coiling around them like mist. None moved. None spoke.
But then… she stepped forward.
Her.
The woman from his dreams. The one who had haunted the deepest recesses of his mind. The voice behind the mask. The nightmare with red eyes and a broken crown.
"I've been waiting for you, Asher."
His mouth went dry.
Everything he thought he knew about the mask, the whispers, the power—it shattered in that moment. Because the truth wasn't hidden behind the mask.
It was waiting in front of it.
[End of Chapter 22]
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As Asher entered the darkened alley, his mind raced with questions, the mask's weight on his soul like a coiled serpent. But the sight of the woman from his dreams—real, solid, and impossibly alive—sent a chill through him deeper than any winter wind. She wasn't just part of the mask's past.
She was its beginning.
Next Chapter Preview:Chapter 23 – "Into the Abyss"Asher's confrontation with the woman from his past forces him to confront the truth about the mask's origins. But the answers he seeks come at a deadly price, and the power he has so eagerly embraced begins to take its toll in ways he never imagined. The line between friend and foe becomes even murkier as the stakes rise.