The Masked Legacy

Thorne regained consciousness with a splitting headache. His vision was blurred, and his limbs felt heavy, but the rush of fear coursing through him forced him to his feet. He stumbled, his heart pounding as his mind raced with thoughts of being left defenseless in the face of a beast. He instinctively raised his guard, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

Gradually, his senses returned, and he took in his surroundings with caution. The stillness was almost unnerving, but after a few tense moments, he was certain that nothing was nearby. He allowed himself a moment to breathe, the immediate danger seemingly passed.

What was that?

 Thorne winced as the memory of the searing pain in his mind came rushing back. He made a conscious decision to avoid setting his spiritual perception on the statue again. Even in his hazy recollection, he could remember its bizarre form—lines etched across its body, dividing it into seven distinct parts.

It didn't resemble any god he knew of, certainly not Ogun, the god he was most familiar with. There was something otherworldly about the way it was carved, like it belonged to a different realm altogether.

He sighed, still trying to shake off the unease clinging to him. Reaching into the pocket space of his ring, he withdrew some dried rations and a small flask of water. He forced himself to eat slowly, allowing the repetitive act of chewing to calm his racing thoughts.

As he ate, his mind wandered back to the moment he first saw the statue. How had he not sensed it from outside? The temple's exterior had given him no hint of the spiritual tempest waiting within.

He drifted his spirituality to the walls around him, tracing the faded runes etched into the stone. He had noticed them before, but now they seemed to stand out against the dark, ancient stone and wood, almost as if they were pulsating with a faint, hidden power.

Thorne narrowed his eyes, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing the ring on his finger. The runes seemed vaguely familiar, not in their design but in their effect. They felt similar to the enchantments on his ring, the same subtle hum of contained power.

Perhaps these runes served a similar purpose—something to do with containing the spirituality of the statue within the temple. That could explain why he hadn't sensed it until he was right in front of it, and why there were no signs of beasts near this place. If the spiritual presence was kept locked away, it would make sense that the wildlife avoided it.

Thorne finished his meal, feeling a bit more centered. His spirituality had renewed slightly, enough for him to consider his next move. Staying in the temple was not an option. Even with the seeming safety from outside threats, the statue's presence was far too unsettling, and he didn't want to risk encountering whatever lingering spirits or energies might be drawn to such a place.

Moreover he had to get his source.

He needed to keep moving. His goal lay further within the Forest of the Gods.

Taking a deep breath, Thorne steadied himself, He made sure his supplies were packed, and with one last wary glance at the statue, he stepped outside the temple.

He could almost feel its gaze on him, even without looking back. The air felt different as soon as he exited—lighter, less oppressive. He adjusted his grip on his sword, his senses sharp and alert, and began his journey deeper into the forest, where more trials awaited him.

Thorne kept moving, carefully maneuvering through the dense woods. His mind, however, remained on that strange temple. The unsettling image of the statue haunted him, its lines and presence still vivid in his memory.

 A false god worshipped by the past inhabitants?, trying to make sense of what he had seen.

But the temple's location gnawed at him. Why build a temple in the middle of nowhere, where no one would venture to worship? no it was not nowhere, it was the garden of the gods.

The thought was absurd, yet here he was, still grappling with its existence.

Determined to put some distance between himself and that place, Thorne picked up his pace. He had no desire to linger in its vicinity any longer than necessary.

As he continued deeper into the forest, his senses remained alert. He occasionally encountered a few harmless beasts, which he quickly dispatched with his sword. But when he sensed any dense, compressed forms of spirituality nearby, he wisely avoided them, unwilling to risk another dangerous encounter.

Suddenly, Thorne came to a jarring stop. His tether—the intangible pull guiding him to his source—was gone. Panic set in as he tried to reach for it again, but there was nothing, just an empty void. How had he let this happen? He had been so distracted by his thoughts, so consumed by the lingering effects of that temple, that he hadn't noticed the tether slipping away.

His heart began to race, and his breaths came in quick, shallow bursts.

He looked around, his sense sweeping across the black-and-white contours of the forest in his mind. He felt truly lost for the first time since entering the Forest of the Gods.

Despair clawed at his chest, tightening its grip with every passing second. How was he supposed to find his source now? How could he carve his mask without it? This forest was enormous, an endless labyrinth of trees and shadows. How could he hope to find the one thing that was meant for him?

His thoughts spiraled, each question heavier than the last. Thorne clenched his teeth, cursing himself for his carelessness. He should have known better than to let his guard down, especially after such an encounter.

Suddenly he realized.

 The temple!!

 That temple—it had done something to him. He was sure of it. Whatever energy inside that statue must have interfered with his spiritual tether.

There was no other explanation.

He had to find his way back.

With shaky feet and a pounding heart, Thorne turned around and began retracing his steps, his senses on high alert. Every rustle of leaves and distant howl seemed amplified, threatening to drown him in his own fear. But he pressed on, determined to reclaim his tether and resume his quest.

The path back seemed longer, the shadows deeper. The forest around him felt alive, almost breathing with anticipation. Thorne couldn't help but wonder if something—or someone—was watching him.

The oppressive feeling of the temple's presence still clung to his skin, making him feel as though he hadn't truly left it behind. Each step forward felt like a step closer to the unknown, but he had no choice. He had to face whatever awaited him, or he risked losing a lot.