A Moment Of Peace

Chase shut the wooden door behind him slowly.

'I'd rather fight thirty more Nagas than take those gods-forsaken stairs again…'

He thought to himself, now embraced in the silence of the small dorm room.

Turning around, Chase scanned the rustic-styled room. There was a decently big bed with unused sheets and a bedside table.

He walked over to the bed and sat down on its end.

The room wasn't large, but it wasn't as small as it had first looked. There was an open area at the center of the room where he could practice his swordsmanship, a tiny kitchen in the farthest corner, and even his own bathroom.

Yet, it was strange—too strange.

Chase had not had his own room or even a bed in nearly a year; however, it felt like forever ago since he last slept in the comforts of his own place.

He looked around, quietly observing the room he would sleep in for the next year or so to come.

The wooden walls carried a faint scent of aged pine, and the air was still, as if the room itself had been waiting for him.

'Alright, now it's time to figure out where the hell you went…'

Chase lifted his hoodie and pulled it off.

On his right shoulder lay the mysterious rune that had been (very painfully) engraved on it.

Sparky had left without warning the moment they neared the Naga's labyrinth.

Chase thought of the story that Michael had told him about Orion and the sun that he sealed his soul inside of.

A strange theory began to eat at his very being.

His eyes curiously studied the marking on his shoulder as he was left alone in his new room.

He hadn't had time to think about where the wolf had gone over the past days, considering he was either fighting for his life or learning that his father had been killed the night his village was raided.

'This is pointless.'

Chase thought to himself as he traced his finger along the burnt patch of skin on the base of his neck.

Quickly remembering that he had been given a reward for slaying the overgrown snake, he pulled the terrifying mask out of the bottom of his backpack.

In his hand, staring face up, was the mask he had claimed accidentally after beheading the Naga.

Its black, empty eyes looked back at Chase, as if studying the boy more than he was studying it.

He lifted the mask to his face and pressed it gently into his skin.

Suddenly, the mask seemed to become one with him.

Fear dissipated the moment the strange mask had been put on.

It was followed by a strange sensation, as if the world had twisted and flipped by some omniscient presence.

'Well, this is nauseating.'

Chase tried not to fall back onto his bed as he looked around his new room.

Everything was different, yet it was all still the same.

The ceiling seemed to mix with the floor as if they were joined together.

The furniture flickered between existing and vanishing, like echoes of a space caught between two realities.

A small platform in an endless void…

Then, as he struggled to adapt to this new view of the world, an idea appeared in Chase's mind.

He looked down at the marking on his shoulder. His eyes widened as the rune seemed to become intangible, floating above his skin.

However, that was not what shocked him…

He could read it—all of it. The words seemed to bend together slightly, but thankfully, it was at least written in the common tongue now.

Chase looked away, took a deep breath, and then tried to read the ancient rune.

It read—"From Embers and Shadows, Rise and live once more."

As he spoke the words, a terrible burn radiated through Chase's body, starting from the rune, which now left a faint green glow within the black writing.

"Son of a—"

Chase growled as he clutched his shoulder in pain.

It was clear that he had nowhere near enough energy to use the rune, so he quickly took off the tribal mask.

The cold, metal-like material rested against his palm as he tried to siphon its energy.

As he siphoned the energy from it, the mask began to grow intangible, as if its existence was seemingly fading away.

Instantly after the mask vanished in his hands, the burnt patch of skin on his neck began to harden.

Chase pushed himself up and stumbled to the bathroom, shoving the door open.

Above the sink was a dusty mirror that probably hadn't been cleaned in years.

He looked into the mirror only to see a stranger's reflection.

Brunette hair, neon-green eyes, and a rough, dirty face.

It was Chase, of course, but at the same time, his reflection seemed distant and unfamiliar to the boy.

A hollow, almost spectral presence lingered in his eyes, as if the person staring back wasn't entirely him.

He shook his head and leaned closer to the mirror, studying the base of his neck. And sure enough—a small runic marking had replaced the charred skin—leaving a faint glow that illuminated the small bathroom.

Chase was left in a stunned silence, as his hand gently rubbed the base of his neck.