From the masked creature who did not want to be there.
Human touch.
Warm water.
Intrusive fingers brushing over her skin.
She wanted to scream. To smash everything. To kill.
But her body was still weak. A body no longer entirely hers, yet carrying her essence… her code… her vulnerabilities.
"Where am I?"
"Who dares touch me?"
The scent of soap was sharp. Almost primitive. Nothing there was truly clean. It was an animal ritual—preparing a body for a new shell. How foolish.
Her consciousness drifted among uncomfortable sensations. Fabric against skin. Hands against her flesh. Clothes being removed. Voices—female, human, chattering—buzzed like mosquitoes around her ears.
"How beautiful she is, mother!"
Beautiful? That irritated her even more. She did not want to be admired. She did not want to be seen.
She wanted to disappear. Or kill.
But she was vulnerable. A clean, dry, fragile body—though still powerful.
Then she felt it.
Something was wrong.
The mask…
It was no longer there.
Terror surged within her like an ancient impulse: destroy.
She would rise. Tear out the throat of the creature who dared see her unmasked. The girl. Quick. Precise. Almost painless. She had done this before… she thought.
But then…
The sight.
Two white ears, hanging softly.
The child's frightened expression. Yet… no scream.
No fleeing.
No real fear.
Only… admiration.
And a question:
"Can you be my friend? I'm Nialie, but you can just call me Nia… if you want."
She froze.
There was someone… from long ago…
A child's voice…
A world she had left behind…
Someone she had sworn to protect.
Nia.
That girl.
She had the gaze of the child she had lost.
Something cracked.
A tiny, nearly imperceptible fracture in her emotional armor.
Not enough to change the world… but enough to stop her from killing.
She replaced the mask. Closed the system with a gentle touch.
The human face returned—symmetrical, harmless, beautiful.
The perfect lie.
And she whispered, for it was all she could do:
"Keep my secret. Tell no one. Please."
The girl nodded. She smiled. A genuine smile.
In that fraction of a second, her arrogant, repulsive, selfish demeanor softened.
She would not trust the old woman. Nor the boy.
But Nia was different.
She was no threat.
She was a link.
The mask breathed with her.
It was ancient leather, taken from a creature no longer in existence—a lizard-primate from the dark waters of the White Forest. Strange to the touch, smooth like scales and soft as wet moss. When light touched it, it returned shades of gray-green, as if carrying the forest's damp reflection within itself.
She never saw it as an object. No seams, no straps. The mask clung to her skin like a second face, fused to her by something invisible. Sometimes, it seemed the tiny Chi'ia fragments embedded in the leather were watching. They pulsed with warmth, as if holding a thought not entirely her own.
When she pressed her fingers to the warm spot on the side—that small bulge throbbing like a living vein—the mask awakened. A deep hum, like a tree exhaling, ran through her head. Then the leather changed.
The skin shaped itself like an ancient chameleon, and a human face appeared: brown eyes, delicate freckles, a perfect smile. A face capable of fooling anyone, because it seemed alive. It was not machinery, nor illusion: it was memory. The Chi'ia stones preserved the features of someone who had once existed, now projecting them onto her.
When it was time to remove it, the click was soft, intimate, as if unlocking a secret stored in the body. Then the truth appeared: long, upright white ears, their thin veins glowing blue, pulsating with the same chi that fed the stones.
She felt the weight of the air against them.
Exposed.
Friendly Meal
Now everyone gathered around the small table as the dishes were placed carefully. Ji Ao Kao did not take his eyes off the young woman, who now seemed even stranger in his pajamas—the sleeves and legs were too long, as she was visibly taller.
His mother, Aynaz Lie Tarta, or simply Mrs. Tarta, noticed the ill-fitting clothes and, practical as always, found some cloth and an old shirt to improvise a proper cover. Nia, sitting next to her brother, immediately noticed his gaze and nudged him sharply:
"Hey, Ji Ao, don't be silly! Are you laughing at my friend?" she asked, squinting her eyes.
"No! I'm not laughing at anyone!" he replied, blushing, trying to hide his fascination.
During the meal, everyone noticed that the young woman still wore the mask and did not touch the plate. Perhaps she did not recognize the food, or perhaps she felt she could not eat there, in front of them. Ji Ao, remembering the snack she had eaten at the cafe, thought:
"Did she eat that… or only because she had no choice?"
Curious, he ventured:
"Aren't you hungry?"
The young woman hesitated, her voice muffled by the mask:
"Ah… it's just… you already gave me a snack before."
But Nia, always intuitive, jumped from her chair and ran to the fridge. She grabbed a container of cooked carrots and returned cheerfully:
"Look, you can eat these. Full of vitamins! You know why?"
The masked young woman looked at the carrots, her eyes seemingly sparkling behind the dark lens. Without utensils, she picked them up with her hands and devoured them eagerly, as if she had not felt nourished in days.
Mrs. Tarta and Ji Ao were astonished by the scene. Nia simply smiled, as if she had already known this would happen.
"Sorry… I was hungry and… I didn't know. This tastes so good," the young woman said, subtly wiping the corner of the mask.
"It's carrot! Princesses like it, you know?" replied Nia proudly.
The young woman paused for a moment, gazing softly at the girl. Then she nodded, still surprised by the flavor.
Seeing that she truly enjoyed it, Mrs. Tarta went to the stove, prepared more carrots with a thin, fragrant broth, and served a larger portion. The young woman ate everything, satisfied, her little stomach subtly bulging under the pajamas, showing how much she had eaten.
Afterward, she seemed slightly stronger, though still visibly tired. Mrs. Tarta then made a decision:
"Ji Ao, tonight you sleep on the sofa. She will rest in your room, on your bed. It's more comfortable."
"Okay, mother…" the boy replied, resigned, though his heart said otherwise.
Later, lying on the sofa with the blanket up to his chin, Ji Ao stared at the ceiling, daydreaming:
"If I could… I would stay by her side. Just watching. Caring…"
But he knew his mother would not allow it. After all, as she thought:
"Who knows what this boy could get up to?"
That night, before falling asleep, the young woman got up, looked in the mirror, and discreetly removed the mask, checking her own eyes and true face, unseen by anyone. She touched her stomach with both hands and whispered weakly to herself:
"Ribhia… Nivah… that is the name they will hear."
Then she replaced the mask, sat on the edge of the bed, and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time… she felt she was not being hunted.
And for the first time… someone had brought her carrots.