"The masks of the forgiven are carved from grief, not mercy."
— An Apostle Of Silence
The death of the second statue changed the battlefield instantly.
The final statue released a long, sorrowful cry that echoed across the lake like a funeral hymn dragged through broken lungs. Black blood gushed endlessly from its mouth, pouring into the waters below. Even the creatures assaulting us seemed affected by it. Their movements slowed. Their malformed bodies trembled. Some began weeping streams of dark blood as they staggered toward Miranda and Bo with dying hatred.
The shift gave Miranda and Bo enough room to push the horde back.
Miranda's fists thundered through flesh and bone alike, reducing monsters into collapsing heaps of blood and ruined limbs. Bo followed close behind her, hacking through the slowed creatures with brutal swings of his weapon.
And yet, despite the battle before me, my attention drifted elsewhere.
Something felt wrong.
No… not wrong.
Familiar.
A violent nausea rolled through my stomach. I looked down at the back of my hand and froze.
A marking had appeared there.
The same mark Belinda carried.
Thin black veins spread beneath my skin like cracks forming beneath glass. At once, I felt my residue being drained from my body and pulled toward the grieving statue.
The thing was feeding on us.
I looked toward the lake again.
The Widow watched everything with amused fascination, giggling softly as the statue mourned its fallen brothers.
And strangely enough…
As I stared at the weeping statue, the only emotion I felt was disgust.
Pathetic.
Utterly pathetic.
You mourn while enemies still stand before you? You cry while the battle continues?
Worthless guardian.
A strange irritation crawled through my thoughts.
I wished I still had the Forgiven Masks. But this clueless fool does not know how to truly use us.
My thoughts abruptly stopped.
I froze.
Forgiven Masks?
What… was that?
The words echoed inside my head like someone else had spoken through me.
Not thought.
Spoken.
I felt cold.
Use us?
What did that mean?
Who was us?
For a brief moment, the sounds of battle seemed distant as confusion flooded my mind. Thoughts collided against one another violently.
Then a roar snapped me back to reality.
Several monsters had broken past Miranda and Bo and were charging directly toward Belinda and me.
I raised my rifle instinctively—
But it stopped.
My gun was still lowered.
Instead, my hand had risen on its own.
My fingers stretched outward toward the incoming monsters.
And then words forced themselves from my mouth.
Soft.
Gentle.
Almost affectionate.
"They are all for you ladies."
The moment the sentence left my lips, laughter answered.
Not loud laughter.
Lonely laughter.
Cold laughter.
Pale blue arms erupted from the earth beneath the monsters.
The hands were thin and corpse-like, stretching upward like flowers blooming from graves. They wrapped around the creatures' legs lovingly—almost tenderly—before pale fire engulfed them.
Faces appeared within the flames.
Smiling faces.
Laughing faces.
The monsters screamed as the spectral arms pulled them downward into the fire. Others halted immediately, instinctive fear freezing their malformed bodies.
Then more hands burst upward.
More flames.
More smiling faces hidden within the pale inferno.
The monsters vanished one after another beneath grasping fingers and burning blue light.
And as I watched them die…
I felt satisfaction.
No.
Relief.
A warm sense of completion spread through me before vanishing just as suddenly.
Then something whispered beside my ear.
"Thank you."
The voice was soft enough to be mistaken for wind.
I stared at my hand in confusion.
I did not know that spell.
I had never learned that spell.
So, what had just happened?
What were the Forgiven Masks?
Why had that strange voice spoken through my thoughts so naturally?
And why—
Why had it felt comforting?
Questions flooded my mind, but there was no time to dwell on them.
The battle still raged.
I forced myself to breathe and returned my focus to the fight.
The horde continued advancing, though their numbers were no longer replenishing as quickly as before. Bo looked exhausted now, his movements heavier than before.
And Miranda—
Miranda looked terrifying.
Her suit had long since been destroyed during the battle, leaving only the remains of a torn white shirt hanging from her waist. Her upper body was exposed save for a black sports bra, revealing tattoos that stretched across nearly every inch of visible skin.
The markings twisted across her muscles like living scripture.
And strangely enough…
She looked freer this way.
Untamed.
Like the violence itself suited her.
I decided not to question it.
I already had far too many questions.
Belinda sat nearby atop a crude stone platform she had created for herself, breathing heavily while maintaining a weak barrier around her body. Sweat drenched her face. Her residue reserves were nearly depleted.
I wanted to help.
Truly.
But my own residue was disappearing rapidly because of the mark on my hand.
Thankfully, my fae nature—and the dewdrop given by the spirits—allowed my recovery to remain absurdly high.
Still, it barely kept up.
I cast a healing spell toward Bo as a test and nearly collapsed immediately afterward.
My knees buckled.
Almost all the residue I had just regenerated vanished instantly.
The blessing from the lake activated moments later, restoring part of my strength, but even then I realised something disturbing.
The blessing itself had changed.
No…
It was being limited.
Once a certain amount of residue recovered, the effect weakened dramatically.
The mark.
The statue was interfering with it.
That explained Belinda's condition as well.
I looked back toward the battlefield.
The statue still wept.
The Widow still giggled.
Then suddenly—
Everything stopped.
The monsters froze mid-attack.
Completely motionless.
Even Miranda hesitated.
Several seconds passed.
Then, as one, every creature turned around and began marching back toward the lake.
The statue had stopped crying.
Now it stared directly at us.
No.
Not us.
Belinda and I.
Hatred burnt within all four of its eyes.
The horde marched silently back into the blood-filled waters below.
Then the lake began to shake violently.
The statue's mouth closed.
The endless blood flow stopped.
Pillars of blood rose from the lake's surface, carrying fragments of the destroyed statues within them.
The remains spiralled slowly through the air before flowing toward the final statue.
Like grieving brothers returning home.
The blood wrapped around the statue completely.
The fragments merged into its body.
The Widow clapped excitedly while watching the transformation.
The cocoon of blood began twitching violently.
Faces pressed against its surface from within.
Hands.
Mouths.
Screaming expressions.
The cocoon hardened slowly, resembling both a womb and a coffin simultaneously.
I turned toward the others.
I already knew I could not contribute much to the next battle.
Miranda stared at the cocoon fearlessly.
Bo looked utterly horrified.
I explained Belinda's and my condition quickly.
Miranda merely nodded.
Bo looked toward Belinda with concern before forcing himself to focus on the growing monstrosity ahead.
Then the cocoon burst apart.
The reborn statue emerged slowly from within.
Its original face remained intact, but now the faces of its fallen brothers were fused into its chest and thigh, their mouths hanging open in eternal agony.
Its new arms were grotesque creations of exposed organs, bone, and stitched flesh. Fingers twitched unnaturally at the ends of blood-slick limbs.
Its legs were formed from fused human arms woven together into obscene mockeries of muscle.
Its torso remained split open, held together only by intestines wrapped tightly around the wound like ropes.
Its mouth closed shut as black blood poured endlessly from missing cheeks and shattered teeth.
And its eyes—
Its eyes burnt with vengeance.
The Widow circled around it curiously, poking at its body playfully.
Then the creature shoved her violently aside.
The chain binding her snapped free from the ruined fragments of stone still attached to its body.
The monster screamed.
And charged.
Miranda grinned.
Then she charged as well.
The collision between them sounded like a cannon blast.
Miranda's punch struck first, sending the giant stumbling backward into the shallow blood-water near the lake shore.
The monster recovered quickly and stared at her carefully now.
Evaluating.
Learning.
Then its gaze shifted toward me.
Hatred immediately intensified within its eyes.
Miranda stepped directly into its line of sight.
"It's just you and me now, big guy!" she shouted with a savage grin. "What? Afraid a beautiful woman might beat you to death?"
The statue released a roar that sounded disturbingly close to laughter before charging her again.
This time, Miranda allowed the first strike to land.
The blow hurled her backwards across the ground, but she caught herself instantly and rushed back in.
The statue swung wildly.
Miranda dodged beneath the attack and slammed her fist into its knee.
The bone cracked.
The creature staggered.
She followed immediately with a brutal strike to its throat before driving another punch into its jaw hard enough to nearly topple it.
The statue recovered, spitting shattered teeth into the lake.
Its grotesque tongue slithered from its mouth, feeling the gaps in its broken jaw while black blood streamed endlessly from its cheeks.
Then it charged again.
Miranda met it head-on.
Their battle became monstrous.
Blow after blow echoed through the forest like thunder.
The statue attempted to grab her repeatedly, but Miranda slipped through its grasp and shattered its knee again before hammering punches into its ribs and throat.
The monster retaliated by throwing sand into her eyes before landing a savage uppercut that launched her backward.
She landed hard—
Then immediately stood back up smiling.
Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
"I am truly enjoying this," she laughed.
The statue stared at her silently.
And somehow…
It almost seemed to understand her excitement.
Honestly…
This was becoming rather entertaining.
Then a whisper answered inside my mind.
"We know."
I truly need answers from the spirits more than ever.