The storm cracked open the sky over Eldershore, a fishing village clinging to the edge of the northern sea. Waves slammed the coast like fists against a stubborn door, trying to break inside. Lightning lit the water silver. Thunder rolled like a warning drum of ancient gods.
From that chaos, a crate surfaced. Dark wood reinforced with veins of gold. It rose and fell with the tide until the sea spat it out onto the shore.
Morning came. Fishermen gathered. And when they pried open the crate, they didn't find treasure.
They found a newborn child.
Pale. Quiet. Breathing.
Wearing half a golden mask that clung to his face like it belonged to his skin.
Some stepped back in fear. Some whispered:
"He's the only one alive. Shipwreck of the cursed."
"Probably a demon-child."
"Throw him back."
But the oldest voice silenced them all.
Erik, the village head. Wrinkled by sea winds, eyes sharp from surviving too many winters.
"We do not kill the innocent," he said. "Even if fate sent him from a storm."
Erik placed the child into his arms and carried him to a small abandoned hut on the mountain above Eldershore.
"Grow," he whispered. "Prove them wrong."
---
Days became horror
Within one night, the baby looked one month old.
Within twelve days, he could walk.
Within a month, he spoke.
Not childish babble.
He said:
"Erik."
Like he had always known that name.
The mask could be removed then. A strange artifact. Gold etched with runes no scholar recognized. Erik wrapped it in cloth and kept it close.
Villagers traveled up the mountain to stare at the boy. Some feared him. Some spat prayers. Some called him a curse sent to punish their fishing luck. Erik didn't allow them to take him.
"His name is Kael," Erik said. "He is mine to guide."
The name belonged to Erik's fallen brother. A warrior praised and lost in war. The village respected that name. At least enough to stop talking of drowning the boy.
Kael grew like a human torch burning too bright.
At age 5, he looked 12.
At age 10, he looked 17.
By age 14, he towered over grown men.
Only Erik treated him like a real son.
---
Fear replaces curiosity
Villagers whispered louder now.
"He'll kill us all one day."
"His strength… he's unnatural."
"His eyes glow at night. I saw it!"
Truth was… sometimes they did glow.
When he got angry.
When he dreamed of darkness.
By 16, Kael wasn't allowed into the village without Erik at his side.
Kids threw stones when they thought he couldn't hear.
Adults crossed streets to avoid his shadow.
Kael never complained. But loneliness stuck to him like cold rain.
Only nights by the shore with Erik felt right.
"You're more human than all of them combined," Erik would say. "And one day, they'll realize who you are truly meant to be."
Kael always wondered:
Who am I meant to be?
---
The Mask Awakens
One day while fishing, a storm rolled in. The sea roared again, as if remembering the boy it had delivered.
Kael saw something glint beneath the waves.
A fragment of the golden mask. A curved piece shaped like a dragon's scale. It rose unexplainably to the surface and latched itself onto the original mask Erik kept locked away.
The next morning, Kael woke with the mask clinging to his face again.
He couldn't remove it.
He panicked. He tore at it until his fingers bled.
Erik held his hands.
"Stop. That mask isn't trapping you. It's waking up."
Kael cried for the first time in his life.
Not from pain.
From terror of becoming something not human.
That night, Kael dreamt of:
A black sun swallowing the sky.
Gigantic horned shadows marching.
A name whispered by the dying world:
Veldur.
He awoke gasping.
The mask hummed.
The golden runes glowed.
Destiny had found him.
---
Rejection hits its peak
When Kael was 18, Eldershore was struck by famine of fish. Boats returned empty. Nets ripped by something with too many teeth.
The villagers blamed the mask.
Blamed the boy.
"He brings bad omens!"
"Throw him away before he dooms us!"
Erik roared back:
"If any of you harm Kael, you answer to me!"
The village turned cold. Doors slammed when they saw him. Mothers dragged children away from his shadow. Men stood with knives when he passed.
Kael didn't understand why kindness from one man was enough to make the cruelty of a hundred feel smaller.
He clung to Erik like a lifeline.
And then…
That lifeline snapped.
---
The night everything broke
Erik fell ill. Not sick like old age.
Sick like something poisoned him.
Kael carried him to his bed.
Erik's voice cracked as he held Kael's face.
"You are not a curse. You are a gift."
Kael's hands shook.
"Don't leave me."
Erik smiled weakly.
"You were sent here for a reason.
Not to walk my path… but to surpass it."
He pressed a carved wooden staff into Kael's palms.
Old Nordic runes engraved on its length.
"This will protect you… when I no longer can."
Before Kael could speak…
Erik stopped breathing.
Kael didn't cry loudly.
He didn't scream.
He sat there, holding Erik's hand…
And the room was silent enough to hear a heart shatter.
---
Alone. Truly alone.
The next morning, villagers didn't attend Erik's burial.
No prayers. No respect.
They forced Kael to leave. Threw stones behind him as he walked up the mountain to the hut.
They had used Erik's death as a reason.
Their fear finally had no chains.
Kael knelt by the sea where Erik taught him everything.
Salt wind cut into him like knives.
"I will protect them," he whispered, "even if they hate me."
The mask's runes circled with golden fire.
Kael gripped the staff…
And carved three symbols into it:
ᛗᛟᛋᚲ
(M A S K)
The wood cracked open…
Transformed…
Into a golden spear, humming with the power of ancient gods.
A voice echoed in his skull:
Collect the mask fragments.
Before Veldur returns.
Kael stood.
He had no home.
No family.
No love.
Only a mission.
He walked into the night, spear glowing faintly beneath the cloak Erik left behind.
The sea that once delivered him now watched him disappear into darkness.
And Eldershore slept peacefully…
Unaware their only hope had just left them forever.