We returned to the others, who were all deep within this uncharted forest that was thankfully right by the river. It is unknown to mostly everyone in the country, but for our tribe it was a temporary home. We had become familiar with it, and all the creatures it inhabited. Surprisingly no monsters have ever tried to impede our attempts at making a small community. Some of the adults say that it is the blessing of Belthios that makes it so, warding off any sort of evil or creatures who would do us harm. Coja and I just think it was by pure luck that we’d find a forest that wasn’t inhabited by killer beings, though we wouldn’t dare say that in front of any of the adults, especially not to someone like Mistress Winoe, whose faith in Belthios and the mask is far purer than ours.

Everyone has a strong faith in the Mask, it is the root of our very community. Apparently it all started around two-hundred years ago when a man by the name of Jehtora arrived at a rather small commute, wearing a cracked and broken mask, and a large black cloak, similar to Ms. Winoe’s. Jehtora was weary, thin, and was desperately looking for help. Apparently he was attacked by monsters nearby, and so that small village aided him and provided him with food and shelter. Jehtora was clutching onto a broken and old looking mask, and never once let it go, not even when the local doctors and nurses were treating his wounds. He refused to be separated from the Mask.

They say that his voice was soothing and calm. Everytime he spoke to the village they would hang onto his every word. He spoke of dark times ahead. He spoke of imminent destruction and that it would be coming soon. However, he claimed that the mask he carried was the salvation they would all search for in the end. The village was hesitant to believe him, but as the legend tells, a radiant light emitted from the eye of the mask and gave them all a vision of what was to come. They were all paralyzed by the light, and their gaze headed straight up. They saw a future where the sky was black and covered in red clouds, the moon approaching the world, prepared to make a crash landing onto the surface of the planet. A future where everyone had turned to stone and the very soil they stood on was boiling hot, and the grass was sharp as daggers. They saw damnation. The dead rising from their tombs, and monsters unheard of roamed the world and terrorized the denizens of this world. Yet in the midst of destruction they also saw salvation.

The mask held the key to their survival as they witnessed a godly figure pushing away the darkness, guiding it out of our world and back to where it once belonged. They saw Belthios, our saviour, come back to aid those who were faithful to him, while the heathenous remained unsaved. The vision ended, and the village knew that this man spoke the truth. The prophet Jehtora had swiftly changed their minds and they all immediately converted under the mask’s divine power. They then went on a pilgrimage, alongside Jehtora, to find the other pieces of the mask that had broken off many years ago. If the mask could not be repaired in time, then Belthios can not return to save us all from the apocalypse.

At least that’s the gist of it, and even though this happened several years ago, two hundred years to be exact, we still search for the other pieces of the mask with the help of Jehtora, who is still alive to this very day. While I don’t know how he’s been kept alive for all these years, I am pretty certain it has something to do with the mask. Although I do find it odd, because I’ve never actually seen Jehtora. He emerges from his tent once every dozen years or so to inform us all where the next piece of the mask is. Until then, we wander around the world, getting closer to a piece. Once the exact location is known, that’s when Jehtora comes to tell us the good news. It’s been 15 years since the last time any acolytes have seen him, and I wasn’t even born the last time anyone saw him. Today’s the day I finally get to see the man face to face, and honestly, my excitement was through the roof!

Though not everyone was relishing in the good times...

“Aww geez, Ms. Winoe! Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Coja whined as she was trudging behind both Ms. Winoe and I.

“I am absolutely positive.” replied Winoe with the firm and intimidating voice we were so used to. “This is the same path I went through to find you two, it will be the same path that will lead us back to the group.”

“No wonder we’re so slow! I took a shortcut, if we head back now we can still save some time!” Coja pleaded to Winoe, even though it was pointless to ever try and get your way with her. You either abide Winoe’s rules, or perish.

“You’ve already wasted enough of everyone’s precious time, Coja. We will continue the path I’ve made for us, whether you like it or not.” Winoe responded. As soon as she said that, I heard Coja behind us groan loudly and continue dragging her feet behind. She loves wandering off by herself, but she just can’t stand being in a group. Coja has always believed that she was the fastest, and that nobody could ever catch up to her. This is why she hated being with others, she would always want to be on her own beaten path. Unfortunately for her, she was raised in the wrong sort of environment. Even Winoe can’t seem to break Coja’s way of thinking.

I looked up at Winoe, who was walking beside me. I try walking at the same pace as she would, but her long legs made her strides significantly bigger than mine. She is a tall woman, unbelievably so. Nearly six feet tall I’d say, maybe a bit taller.

“Mistress,” I asked “everyone back at the camp must be excited to have found a new piece of the mask, huh?”

“Indeed.” she responded.

Coja barged in between us “But you must be especially excited, huh Mistress?”

Sometimes I forget, but Mistress Winoe’s family has been on the search for the missing pieces of the mask since the very beginning. Her great great grandfather was the doctor who aided Jehtora back to health, and so he would spend most of his time alone with the prophet. The doctor was easily persuaded by Jehtora’s calming words, and was among the first acolytes to be Jehtora’s right hand man, known as a magus. The years have passed, but the family’s bond with the mask stays strong, especially in Winoe’s heart. Even though she chose not to be a magus (even though she’s clearly far more powerful than the current magi in power) and instead dedicated her life as the caretaker, she still has undying faith in the Mask. That faith is something she tries to instill into us every day.

“We only have a few more pieces to find until the mask is fully restored, Mistress.” I continued, “I’m sure we’ll find the other pieces soon enough!”

At this moment, Winoe stopped and turned her head towards me. I came to a sudden halt right behind her and felt a little uneasy, as if I had said something to annoy her. While I can’t see her eyes, I could feel her gazing sharply at my direction. Coja stood beside me, probably feeling the same sharp stare that I felt. Winoe turned her head towards the makeshift trail and began walking again, and even though that moment of staring was brief, I can’t help but feel that it had lasted for hours. Coja and I looked at each other and we just shrugged simultaneously and followed Winoe. The rest of the trip was a bit more silent than what we had before I mentioned finding the pieces of the Mask. I suppose the stress and patience of being an acolyte can make statements like that seem a bit naive, or perhaps Winoe was trying to tell me just how grueling the pilgrimage really is.

I’m only twelve, and Coja is thirteen. Compared to Winoe, who is in her mid fifties, we’ve really no idea what kind of pain she must have gone through in this journey. I know she loves us, all of us. Not just the children, but everyone involved in the pilgrimage as well. I know she makes it seem like she is cruel and frightening, but I know deep down she cares for us as any mother would care for her children. I know that some of the kids she used to be a caretaker for have grown up and are now smithies or doctors of the caravan. But most of all, the thing I know that I have never mentioned to her nor anyone else, is that I know some of the kids she raised have left the caravan. Or worse, they were killed by monsters. This includes the caravan as a whole.

This pilgrimage is not an easy task. We travel through tundras to dunes to wasteland and to vicious, monster filled forests. That is why we have deserters. Though no one is forced to stay, and those who choose to leave are blessed by the magi to do so, we all secretly see them as cowards. We’re all family, but the moment someone decides to leave, they’re nothing to use. Less than nothing I’d say, if that were possible.

Lost in thought, I was brought back to reality when I heard the laughter of children playing and the chatter of excited adults just beyond the trees. My face lit up, and I smiled widely. This is it! We’re home!