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Sun City, once the heart of the greatest kingdom, burns under the hand of a masked villain. The man behind the silver mask — once known as Jaren — was betrayed by the very empire he served. Now, he brings ruin to the land that cast him aside.

As the city falls, young Prince Aron escapes with nothing but his will to survive. Hunted, broken, and alone, he swears to one day tear the Puppet Master’s mask from his face.

But in this game of shadows, who is the puppet — and who is the master?

Villain Mask: The Puppet Master’s Game

Morning broke cold and gray, the forest heavy with mist. The rebels stirred from uneasy sleep in the cave, their bones aching from the cold stone.

Aron rose first, despite the throb of his wound. He stepped to the mouth of the cave, peering through the ivy curtain. The forest stretched before him — vast, silent, and endless.

"We can't stay here," Lina said softly, joining him. "If Jaren's hunters find our trail, this place will be a trap, not a refuge."

They pressed deeper into the wild, leaving no trail, moving like ghosts. The forest closed around them, and soon even the sky was lost beneath the tangle of branches.

By midday, Garron grunted and pointed ahead.

Through the trees, they glimpsed broken stone — the remnants of a tower, long fallen, hidden beneath moss and root.

"A ruin," Lina murmured. "Old as the forest itself."

Cautiously, they approached. The ruin was little more than a ring of toppled walls and a single arch still standing, carved with symbols worn by time. Beneath it, they found a hollow where the stone floor had collapsed, forming a natural shelter.

"We can rest here," Garron said. "And maybe find what the storm forgot."

The rebels settled within the hollow. Mara tended wounds, Lina scouted the perimeter, and Garron cleared fallen stone to make a firepit.

Aron explored the ruin's heart, his fingers tracing the ancient carvings.

"This place was a watchtower once," he said. "A warning post for a kingdom long lost."

"And now?" Lina asked as she returned from her circuit.

"A warning still," Aron replied. "That all things fall, if left undefended."

Night fell. The rebels lit no fire, listening instead to the wind in the branches and the cries of distant beasts.

And in the dark, Jaren's hunters crept closer — drawn by the faint scent of smoke, the broken twigs, the sign of life where there should be none.

Chapter 45 — The Ruin Beneath the Trees