It is an evil thing.
The mask has a mind of its own.
I have lost everything to it. My mother, my father, my brother and everyone else that came in contact with it. By the time I had figured out what was wrong, it was too late.
It all started when my brother had the brilliant idea of delving into an Ancient Nordic tomb. He was gone for days, so long that we had sent guards out to find him.
They didn't come back either.
The sun rose and fell for a month, and there was still no sign of him. By that time, everyone was worried sick, and I loved my brother too much to not care.
I left to the tomb in hopes of finding him. It wasn't too far. West of my home town—Morthal, and north of Markarth. About a two day journey.
Even now, I remember the giant stone steps that lead to the tomb's entrance, and the bodies of our guards adorning them. But what was worse was what I found at the door.
I remember how I fell beside my brother, how the breeze was chilled on my tears, how I felt numb and dizzy and ill.
But what I remember the most is taking the mask from his hands, and the buzzing I felt when I held it.
I hauled my brother all the way back to Morthal. At first sight, Ma ran to me—well, to my brother—and hugged him tightly. Of course, the body went limp, but she dismissed it as fatigue.
Until one of the guards mentioned the stab wound in his shoulder.
She froze. After what seemed like eternity, she finally looked at his face.
And screamed.
She looked up at me, as if I'd have an explanation or an excuse. As if waiting for me to tell her that he was asleep or at least paralysed.
But all she got was a mirror of her sorrow.
And things just got worse.
About a week after I returned, we started losing townspeople. Every night, someone would disappear—without a sound, without a trace—until only few of us remained. For three days nothing happened, and we had come to the conclusion that those who disappeared were pulling our legs, that they were only trying to scare us.
Then we got attacked by Draugr.
By then, I thought it would be a good idea to mention the mask. Ma and Da had no idea what it was, so I took it to Falion.
He nearly had a heart attack when he saw it, calling to at least twenty different gods from each culture. From that, I knew something was wrong.
"Get it away from me!" he shouted. I asked him what was wrong, and he backed away, shaking his head.
"Otar."
The next morning, Da set out to get rid of it. He was gone all day, and all night, and forever since. Missing him, we had thought we were safe, that it was gone for good. Then I found it on our little prayer table, where our shrine to Mara was supposed to be.
Just by Ma's bedroom.
I called her straight away.
After hours of persuasion and a bribe of 2000 Septims, Falion finally agreed to help. Looking back, I feel that we were very dependent on him—but then again, there was no-one else who knew of these things besides him and perhaps the scholars at the College of Winterhold.
One mention of them (and a rather large coin purse) and he was out the door.
He didn't say much, but he said enough. He asked over and over if I knew what happened to my brother, and I told him—over and over—that I didn't.
Ma suggested that we try on the mask—and got an immediate no from Falion.
That didn't stop her.
As soon as he left, she put it on. For a few moments, nothing happened, and I was almost convinced that it was just a relic—some ancient artifact that had no true significance.
Then she started to laugh.
Really loud.
And collapsed.
I tore the mask away from her, and not long after, Falion was with us again. He shook his head, muttering a couple of "I told you so"s and tending to her
I stayed by her bed all night, afraid of losing her as well. But she was already lost.
I woke up to a bang.
"Where is it?!" she shrieked.
My eyes were wide open and my arms felt weak; the effects of being woken so rashly.
"Huh?" I muttered.
"The mask! Where did you put it?!" she looked pale and frantic. I rose to her side, trying to calm her down, to tell her what happened the night before.
She slapped me.
"Tell me where it is, Ronae, or so help you Shor…"
My lips were trembling. "Ma, please…I think you should lay dow—"
She hit me again.
"I am your mother and you will do as I say. Bring it to me. Bring me Otar. Now."
She saw I wasn't going anywhere, and that made things worse.
She lashed out at me. Not figuratively, but literally—like a Hargraven. She scratched me, once on my cheek and another on my shoulder.
To this day, my scars still hurt.
She kept hitting me, and rammed me into the cupboard. The impact must have been loud, because the last thing I saw was a group of guards rushing into the room.
That was before the blackness.
I woke up to see the face of a man that had become recently familiar.
"I tried to warn you." He said. My head was throbbing, and my new marks burned. He explained that what Ma did was out of a crave for power, a side-affect that she was going mad. But the way he said it…
"She was going mad."
Was.
"Falion…where's my mother?" Hiding the tears that threatened to choke me, I watched him look away.
I knew the answer.
He took the mask for 'safekeeping', though I knew well enough that in order to keep Morthal safe, I had to make sure that not even Oblivion was at arm's length.
I was the one who brought it there. I would be the one to take it away.
I committed my first crime that night. Not that anyone noticed.
Its power thrummed in my hand.
Cautiously, I past the lumber mill, and travelled along unnoticed. It was only a few minutes until I stopped. My arms were numb. It wasn't that the mask was heavy, but its power was weighing me down.
With hope, I kept moving, only to stop moments later.
I realised that there was only one way to travel with it. With a gulp, and a memory of my mother, I put the mask on.
I have no I idea what happened after that, because the next thing I know, I'm in the middle of The Rift.
Hello all!
I understand that the mysterious mask sounds a bit like The Mask (movie), but as soon as I watched it, I just had to put two and two together. Also, this is my first Elder Scrolls FanFic, so any feedback is welcome. Thanks,
IV.