from
ONAKU
and
VOLTEX
CURSE
“You haven’t aged a day.”
Onaku turned around at Hahli’s words, giving her a playful smile, raising an eyebrow. “You say that a lot. I don’t know, I think I’ve gained some air of wisdom in my years.”
“Yeah…” Hahli smiled wistfully. “But you’ve also maintained one heck of a youthful look. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually hadn’t aged since we met.”
Onaku chuckled at the thought. “Yeah, well, maybe my mask maker blood will make me live forever.” He joked, giving her a playful nudged with his elbow.
The two of them finished putting their gear together, and left for the main entrance to their abode. Each was heading to their region’s leaders, a courtesy call to ensure good relations between the knights and Agua Hielo were ongoing.
Marah, Onaku and Hahli’s daughter, intercepted her parents as they were heading out, youthfully skipping along into their arms.
“Good luck out there, you two.” She said, hugging them tight before letting go.
“You keep the house in order, young girl. You’re old enough to know what to do and what not to do.” Hahli told her daughter, a faux stern look to her face which melted into a genuine warm smile that radiated love for Marah. “Take care, alright? We won’t be long, hopefully.”
“You know me, mom.” She said, her tone carrying a light tone of ‘get off my back’ that still carried understanding and love for her mother.
“Be good, snow star.” Onaku said, a smile of affection on his face. Marah nodded, smiling warmly to her father.
Then they were off, Onaku and Hahli taking the same road until it split up off to Agua and Hielo respectively. Waving each other off, they went their separate ways, taking with them each a company of five soldiers, a habit they each carried from the more violent days of Okoto.
After a few days journey Onaku arrived at Grave’s Peak. As he arrived, the sky was clearer than usual, with the sun mildly shining through a thin veil of clouds. The air was still, free of cold winter winds.[/size]
---
Onaku entered Nato‘s forge, holding a folder with the latest Knight troop placements and other military reports for Nato to give his thoughts on.
“Nato? I was wondering if you had a moment to...” He saw Nato, standing by his forge with a mask lying on the slab in front of him, his tense posture as he stood over it, both hands on either side, relaying clearly that he wasn’t happy with it. Not happy at all.
“Should I… come at another time?”
“No. I’m done here anyway.” Nato turned around and walked up to Onaku. Onaku handed him the folder, which he then subsequently perused.
“Hey, so-” Onaku started, before getting interrupted by Nato.
“Everything seems well maintained. Keep up the good work.” He said, handing Onaku the folder again.
Onaku knew Nato meant those words to be encouraging, but he could feel the irritation in them, as well as in his expression and posture overall. Onaku knew they had time to spare; very little had happened that required their immediate attention, and he wanted to try cheering the old man up.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about one failed mask. You’re a better mask maker than I could ever be, and I’ll prove it to you. Let’s have a small competition, just between the two of us, right now. We’ll each forge the same mask, and see whose is better.”
Nato looked at Onaku, furrowing his brows further. “I’m… not sure we have the time. Then again, perhaps we do. Everything checks out on our military end, and there hasn’t really been anything out of the ordinary that’s truly required my attention for a long time.” Nato stroked his chin before smirking. “Alright, nephew, I’ll take you up on that offer. May the best mask maker win.”
Onaku was certain he’d lose. That was the whole point. He’d never even attempted to craft a mask before, since he wasn’t really sure he even wanted to know if he had it in him. But even if he did, Nato had already done it way more often than he had. There was no way Nato could lose.
---
And so, after a long gruelling session of mask making, Onaku took his mask out of the forge’s fires for the last time to hammer in the last few strokes. Although he’d been surprised at how easy it had been to get the shape of the mask to look fine, he was certain it was only an aesthetic achievement. Surely the magic that fuelled the mask’s power was nowhere near up to snuff, he thought.
He thought wrong.
Holding up the mask in his hands, its metal lukewarm against his palm and fingers, he could feel the raw power emanating from it. This mask, for all intents and purposes, was perfectly crafted. Looking back at Nato, still toiling away, he could see just from looking at it that, despite being good, it wasn’t nearly as good as his own.
Onaku grimaced. This could not be. Even if he had mask maker blood like Nato, that shouldn’t mean his mask should be so much better than Nato’s mask. And… if he showed this mask to Nato, he’d be furious.
Thus, setting the mask down again, Onaku went in for some extra hammer strokes, even if it went against every fibre in his body, he slammed the mask with the hammer, again and again, sabotaging it and disrupting its perfection, dissipating the power within and ruining its shape, just enough to pass off as having still tried.
Holding it up again, it didn’t seem too obvious that it had been ruined deliberately. It would have to do. With Nato now inspecting his own mask, now clearly finished crafting it, he turned around and looked over at Onaku. “You done with yours yet?”
“Er, yeah. I’m done. I don’t think I can get it any better than this…”
Presenting his mask, it was clear that whereas his mask had been miles better before, it was now sorely lacking compared to Nato’s satisfactory mask.
“See? Mine isn’t nearly up to snuff compared to yours. I don’t even think it works. Turns out I might not have the mask maker blood in me after all.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure you did your best.” Although he could tell he was trying to hide it, Onaku noticed a smirk on Nato’s lips. At least he’d managed to lift his spirits.
---
Two days later, Onaku returned to his home closer to the old Ice/Water border, opening the door to see her daughter, Marah Vatten, leap out of her chair in gleeful surprise. “Dad! You’re back!” The young girl raced into his arms, hugging him and squeezing him tight. “How’d it go?” She asked, releasing him from her tight embrace.
Onaku stroked the back of his head. “It went fine. Nato was a bit grumpy, but he gave his blessing on how we’ve been doing. We even had a contest on who could forge the better mask. I lost, of course, seeing as how I’ve never done it before.”
Marah grinned in amusement. “Oh come now, you’re being too hard on yourself. I’m sure you’ve got it in you, you just haven’t given it the time and care it needs.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Onaku smiled. He hated lying to his daughter about this, but the mysterious perfection of his mask was a mystery he had to look into himself. “Where is your mother? Has she not returned from her meeting with Terrorsaur?”
“Not yet. I’m sure she won’t be far behind you. Anyway, I got a message from Voltex earlier, and he said he’s coming to Agua Hielo to visit. How cool is that?”
Onaku furrowed his brow. “Voltex? Oh, the fire kid. Right. Yeah, I suppose he’s coming to check through Agua Hielo’s libraries.”
“Well… yeah, I guess.” Marah shrugged.
---
After a further debriefing by her daughter, Onaku moved on to his personal study, where he kept plenty of tomes, scrolls and parchments regarding the island’s past, as well as anything he’d found on the history of the world itself. A parchment on ancient myths, forgotten giant weapons, great gods at the beginning of the world, and plenty more.
Nosing through tomes he had scrounged up through the years, as well as copies of manuscripts Voltex (the mask maker) had left behind, a certain truth was starting to dawn on Onaku.
Reports of a long life. Perhaps indefinite. No clear signs of aging. An unrivalled ability to forge masks of great power.
“You haven’t aged a day.”
Onaku shuddered as the memory of those words resurfaced. Those words had gained a new weight, and a far more serious aura now festered in that memory.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you hadn’t aged a day since we met.”
“What if I haven’t aged?” Onaku muttered to himself as he folded up the manuscript he’d been reading through.
Two out of the three signs were as good as confirmed to him now. Somehow, in some way, he’d become a Mask Maker.
As for a long life, only time would tell. Time Onaku now dreaded intensely. Time he would have to live through, watching not only Hahli, but his daughter Marah, die of old age from him as he persisted, alone, unchanging, into what could very well be eternity…
The thought alone horrified him.
---
Marah Vatten entered her father’s study, hoping to talk to him, only to find it vacant. What she found instead was letter propped up on his desk in plain view, with her name written in large letters. Clearly it was meant for her. She opened up the letter, and as she read it, she became distraught.
Marah my beloved daughter
It pains me to say that I must go. Things have come to light that I cannot ignore, and I can’t stay as Lord Commander if I am to find answers. The last thing I ever wanted was to leave you behind, but I must. I hope you can forgive me, and I wish you and your mother the best… I will miss you. Take care. I know not if I will ever return.
Your loving father, always,
Onaku Greavesy.
The freshly written words dissolved into diluted ink as Marah’s tears hit the parchment. Her hands clutched the letter tight, until finally she crumpled it up and threw it away.
---
Hahli Vatten came home to find Marah preparing to leave herself. She had packed supplies, readied her equipment, as well as the sword she’d received as a gift from her father, and the shield from her great uncle Nato.
“Marah? Where are you going? Where is your father?” Hahli asked in a concerned tone.
Marah turned to face her mother, a look of grief and anger on her face. As she spoke, her voice cracked, her emotions coming through in her words plainly even though she tried to sound stoic. “He left.” The words felt bitter in her mouth. “I-I don’t know why... but he’s gone.”
Hahli’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about?! Your father wouldn’t just leave without a reason!” She hurried into the house, frantically searching for something, anything, to reveal to her why he’d left, and in the doorway, Marah sighed. As much as she wanted to stay and help her mother through this, she didn’t have time. The longer she waited, the further her father would get away. She needed to go, and she needed to go now.
A bitter determination was visible in her eyes as she marched out the door, her sword sheathed at her hip, her shield strapped to her arm, and a newfound heaviness to her steps she’d never felt before today.
“Father… Wherever you are…” She muttered to herself. “I’m coming to find you.”
The Great Game returns October 6th.
- 2
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