-- February 1210 AD --
On a cold and snowy night, the once quiet and peaceful Novikov estate, could now only hear the rushing footsteps and yells of invaders, followed by the screams of servants and subordinates alike.
At the estates entrance gate, a burly and scarred man could be seen, towering over all. He seemed like the very embodiment of malice. He could be heard shouting orders at his subordinates.
"Find Baron Mikhail immediately! We need him to tell us where the dawn mask is! Don't let him get rid of it! Whoever finds it will get a reward!" He roared
"Isaac!" A father's voice cut through the chaos sharply.
Inside the very house the assailants were so violently sieging, was a father, who burst into his son's room, his face pale, rushing straight up to his son, holding something in his shaking hands. As he shoved it into Isaac's arms, he said in haste.
"Isaac, my son, take this and flee through the side exit and run to the woods! Don't stop running and don't stop for anyone; no one is here to help you!"
He gave his son his final hug and grabbed a sword mounted on the wall, his face full of grimaces before steadily heading towards the front door.
As Isaac cast a glance at the surprisingly warm metallic mask his father had just given him. he was immediately stunned! The silver mask was glistening brightly from the moonlight, etched with remarkable floral patterns, it seemed more delicate and beautiful than the moon yet more violent than the flames of the sun.
Awakened from his brief stupor by the screams, Isaac quickly ran towards the side exit door and tried to stealthily open it. He was overwhelmed by the stench of blood and the sight of the lifeless servant he knew his whole life made his stomach churn. In tears, he forced himself to keep moving and snuck through the shrubbery, he eventually came before the large opening that surrounded the manor.
Settling his resolve, he broke into a full sprint, making a break for the woods that seemed so close yet so far. As a noble's son, he had of course received education and training and was by no means slow or weak. But in these distressing moments, he felt his feet were made of lead, and his breathing was heavy. Nearing the woods he heard the last thing he ever wanted to hear.
"Hey! There's an escapee! Get back here you brat!"
Isaac's heart dropped, as he ran through the woods for what seemed like hours only to be a few minutes with tears flowing like rivers at the pure dread of the scenario, he collapsed behind a tree. Panting like a dog as he leaned on its trunk, praying to remain unseen. His eyes which were tightly shut could only open widely in horror when he heard the crunch of snow under the mans boots, and the pursuer laughing, shattering his hope.
"Heh you little shit" The man groaned.
"You gave me a good workout. I'll take your head back as thanks!"
The man approached arrogantly, his axe in hand, glinting in the moonlight. Isaac fumbled and sprawled on the ground, scrambling backward in terror. Once he was near the man noticed the mask clutched in the boy's hands. He was stunned, such a masterpiece must be the mask they were looking for!
"Well, well" He sneered.
"Guess I hit the jackpot this time. Hand over the artifact, kid, and I'll make it quick and painless."
As the man said with a sinister smile, malice and greed filling his eyes. Yet, Isaac ignored him. Isaac had witnessed something unbelievable, the mask in his hands was heating up. He felt as if he was holding hot coals, yet he would not drop the mask, something stopped him. It called to him, an irresistible force clawed at Isaac's soul urging him to put the mask on, feeling it would grant him what he needed most, strength, the ability to get out of this nightmare he was in.
Without thinking he pressed it to his face. Instantly, pain flooded his entire body as the mask seared the skin on his face. Every fiber of his being felt as if it was being burnt down and created a new. While power flooded his veins like lava, enduring the pain he steadily got up, staring at the axe-wielding assailant with enough malice and bloodlust to almost physically see it.
Startled by the boy suddenly jumping up, exuding a bloodlust surpassing even seasoned warriors the man immediately felt he was in danger and took a combative stance. Sweat trickled down his brow as his instincts were screaming at him as if there was a bear or some other mighty beast in front of him.
"What are you trying to do boy? Set the mask down and I might let you live!"
After speaking he only hesitated for a moment, knowing that with this bloodlust, negotiations were well off the table. The man lunged at Isaac, slashing down with enough brute force to make almost any man have been cleaved in half.
In Isaac's eyes the world slowed as every sense was enhanced. He could see every scratch on his axe, hear every ragged breath the man made, and though it was the middle of night he could see as if it was day! Overwhelmed by the sudden change, he couldn't think properly, and his body took over as he was completely controlled by his instincts.
His axe head approached the boy at lightning speed, but the man was speechless. Isaac had perfectly dodged to the side just enough to be an inch from his blade! But before he could react Isaac pressed his palm against the man's abdomen. It felt like he had hit a rock wall, then suddenly, burning hot! The man felt as if he had been dumped into a vat of molten iron!
Looking down he could see light! Isaac's hand had become bright red and orange, flaring brightly and brilliantly like a flame. The man's body suddenly began to crack like the surface of the earth in the desert, devoid of all water. Moments later, flames exuded from the cracks on him as the man was burnt alive in a matter of seconds as if someone had directly placed him inside the sun. His screams filled the forest, yet no one could hear him but Isaac.
After the flames had subsided and all that was left was a human-figured lump of charcoal, Isaac felt as if all energy he could muster was taken from him, it happened so forcefully and violently that he collapsed and fell unconscious instantly.
The next day as Isaac awoke, still hazy, he felt devoid of energy. And his hand felt weird? Isaac looked over and to his dismay saw the burnt corpse of the man he killed last night. His memories and recollections of what happened the past night flooded his head as it all slowly became clear.
His family! Filled with worry, he shot up like a bullet and ran like a mad bull straight towards the estate. All he could do now is hope. Hope his family was okay, or hope they made it out alive. As he neared the side of the estate from where he had run the night prior. He saw the complete carnage that was left in the assailant's wake.
The estate was in ruin, it's walls reduced to rubble, with ashes still floating through the wind. The bodies of the people he grew up with were strewn across the ground, with faces frozen in terror. His heart sank as he reached the front courtyard to see his father lying there, lifeless, with a sword plunged straight through his heart. To those who knew little, it was a tragedy, to those who knew more, it was a warning.
"Why..." He said in grief
Isaac dropped to his knees, he wanted to cry yet no tears came out. His mouth and eyes were dry, all he could smell was ash and blood, and the only noise left was the crackling of what flames remained. He felt an immense despair wash over him, an absolute void gnawing at his very being. Isaac sat there mourning, for several hours, devoid, lifeless, as if he was a husk. Trying to make what little sense he could of this situation. His life as he knew had vanished overnight. He murmured repetitively to himself:
"Why must this happen to me? To us? What sins did we commit to deserve this!?"
Finally, when sunset came around, he went looking for a shovel, he had to give his father a proper burial. After finding a shovel lying in what was the tool shed, he took his father to the largest tree near the estate. And he buried his father there, grabbing an axe he inscribed onto the bark, "Mikhail Novikov February 1210, May he rest in peace." As Isaac planted the axe into the tree, above his buried father, a cold wind swept through, carrying with it the scent of ash. With a scowl, he tightened his grip making the handle creak as he stated:
"This will not be the end... No... This is only the beginning"