It was cold.
The voice — the first voice he had ever heard — was gone.
The hallway echoed with his own footsteps. The sound rhythmically bounced off endless black walls. It felt empty, yet a smile tugged at the corner of his lips — he could see, he could hear. For the first time in his life, he was part of something... real.
Dawn looked around, his eyes widening, eyebrows lifting with every strange detail he noticed.
"What is this place…? It's amazing."
The hallway stretched endlessly. The walls were covered in dashing purple and white symbols that reflected faintly in the dim light. It looked ancient — like it had been abandoned for centuries.
Pushing away the rush of new thoughts, Dawn continued forward.
Everything he saw felt... miraculous.The cracks along the walls.The shifting colors of the lights.The tiled patterns beneath his feet.
He studied every tiny detail, desperate to drink in the world he had never known.
Eventually, he reached the end of the hall — a staircase spiraled upward before him.
"Stairs..." he thought, tilting his head. "Strange... but familiar."
It nagged at him: how did he know what things were? Had he always known?
Driven by excitement, he sprinted up the wooden steps, eager to uncover whatever waited above. Each step creaked beneath his weight. As he ascended, he noticed torn pieces of paper scattered along the way.
"BEWARE.""MASSACRE."And the last one: "DI—"
'Just what the hell is up here?' Dawn thought, slowing his pace.
He walked more cautiously, each step bringing with it a creeping nervousness. His heart pounded in his chest, bracing for what lay ahead.
Until he reached the final step…
At the top, all his worries faded — as if wiped clean from his mind.He found a library.
A vast, mid-sized chamber packed with towering shelves that stretched toward the high ceiling. Hundreds — no, thousands — of books crammed into every space.
As he stepped inside, the lights flickered on, bathing the room in a soft purple glow.
"Books! And there's so many!" he said aloud, wonder thick in his voice.
Dawn rushed forward — but stopped when he saw it.
Several shelves were shattered. Books lay scattered, torn and broken.
Something had happened here.
He scanned the shadows, his heart pounding.
Nothing.
'What happened here?' The thought came unbidden, tightening in his chest.
Dawn advanced through the library, searching every nook and cranny before indulging in the books. He was in awe; he should have been looking for threats, but he couldn't help himself.
Returning to the entrance, Dawn noticed three doors he had initially missed.
'I'll explore those later,' he thought.
He continued forward and found a row of dusty, brown tomes. Even their dull covers filled him with excitement.
He picked up his very first book."The Herbs of Elaross."
He flipped through vivid sketches of herbs, many glowing with medicinal promise.
"Divine Flower – Only those with the blood of the divine may use it."
Dawn marveled at the drawings and descriptions. A warm light bloomed behind his eye — excitement, or maybe joy. But as he turned the next page, shivers crawled up his spine, as if invisible fingers were tapping along it.
His hands paused.The ink began to ripple.
A flower appeared. A purple core that darkened as it moved inward, eventually turning black — surrounded by enormous white petals that looked like snow.
"The Flower of Ev—"
The word twisted in on itself, becoming illegible.
Dawn gripped his chest with unbearable force. His eyes reddened, veins bulging as his mind began to unravel, slipping from reality...
"No!" he screamed, hurling the book away.
His senses snapped back.His eyes returned to their pearly white.His veins calmed.His mind cleared.
Dawn stood frozen, shocked. The books — the most beautiful things he'd ever seen — had betrayed him.
'What the hell was that?! I almost died just from looking at a book! Are they all this dangerous?!'
He tried to think through it, but it was fruitless.
Looking back at the book, he saw that the page was gone — as if the experience had been a dream. But he knew better. He couldn't mistake what he saw. Maybe it was because he had no memories, and thus remembered everything.
Dawn wanted to return to reading, but trauma clung to his thoughts. Every time he reached for a book, the image of that flower returned.
But he had to do this.
Mustered courage surged in his chest. He reached out for the book again. His soul trembled. His heart murmured warnings. But his will overpowered them.
He grasped the book, his fingers shaking, his palm flushed red.
'I can't give in!' he screamed internally.
Slowly, his fear subsided.His soul and heart began to align with his mind.
Still trembling, Dawn finished the book — no problems this time. He knew he couldn't afford the luxury of fear. Not if he wanted to understand the world that had stolen his light.
***
Dawn read a plethora of books. Most were mundane stories about people in a world he had yet to explore.
One fairy tale particularly caught his attention: The Shattering of The First Oath.
"The Oath that bore our world together — broken, shattered, cast into the nether.""This new world was not born of force, but of betrayal. Races clashed. Histories faded into dust."
'Born of betrayal? What could that mean...?' It sounded more like a lost history than a children's story.
"What caused it? What did it cost?""The prophecy speaks: it shall return at the first sign of white light.""But where shall we look, when the world itself hides in plight?"
'Prophecy… does it mean to predict? Are these predictions intentional?' Dawn was confused. The workings of this world made no sense to him.
That was the end. The rest of the tale had been ripped out — forever escaping the grasp of the head that made it whole.
After a long pause, Dawn moved on to the next shelf.
He found another survival section and picked up a second herbal book. "Medicinal Herbs." It seemed straightforward — possibly similar to the last.
'Could it have that same plant?' he wondered.
He was nervous. That flower haunted him. But he couldn't let fear win. So he began reading.
Most of the information aligned with what he already knew — until he noticed something strange.
'Wait... this one says the Divine Flower can only be used by those of divine blood. But the other book said you could become divine by using it?'
Were they the same flower? Or did one lie?
'Can any of these books be trusted?'
Dawn began to question every page. He took every word with a grain of salt.
Still, the books fascinated him. He continued down the aisle, consuming more and more.
Some books offered practical survival knowledge: swordplay, cooking, and — most emphasized of all — running away.
"Is your life more valuable than your pride?" one book asked.
'I lived in darkness for years. What could possibly be worse?' he thought.
He dismissed the advice as cowardice — coping mechanisms for the weak. His sense of pride was naturally high.
But even the dullest texts felt exhilarating to someone who had lived in total darkness. He kept reading.
Eventually, he cleared the entire first floor.All but one book.
It frightened him... but it also felt noble. He was drawn to it.
It stood alone in the center of the library — golden-covered, gleaming under a beam of glorious light. Dust swirled in the sun. It rested on a wooden lectern. Its cursive title glimmered with allure.
"Interesting... how many books look this appealing?"
Inside, the pages illustrated majestic warriors — beings of midnight skin, with shoulders broader than beasts, and hair and eyes white as pearls.
What caught his eye most were their enormous swords — jagged, curved, almost S-shaped.
"Noctherians..."
The word lingered in the air like it held all the answers.
'Their skin... it's just like mine. They have to be my people. They must. Otherwise... I'm alone.'
The thought wrapped around his heart.His throat tightened.The fear of solitude returned.
He couldn't bear it. Not again.
Silence held him for several long moments.
But he had to move on.
Dawn eyed the destroyed section of the library.
'Let's leave that side alone,' he thought.
Then, he jumped to the second floor. It seemed like the easiest option to him. A normal person might look for stairs or a ladder — but Dawn still didn't fully understand how the world worked.
As he landed on the second floor, a force pressed down on him.
"What's... going... on?"
The gravity of the second floor pinned him low, making it hard to even speak.
'Maybe... this floor tests strength? You must be worthy to reach it…'
Dawn used all his strength to stand, then walked around slowly, scanning the area with his eyes before taking another step. He stopped when his gaze landed on a midnight-black book — The Essentials of Noctherian Elar Pulse.
The book's color matched his own mask. Its cover was thick, and the center bulged outward as if a sphere was pushing through from inside.
'Elar Pulse… some kind of term for heartbeat, maybe?'
He grabbed the book quickly and leapt back to the first floor.
'That pressure is finally gone!'Dawn felt so much lighter now, like a weight had been lifted.
As he landed, he made his way to the same desk he had seen earlier and placed the book down carefully.
He opened it with extreme caution — slowly, deliberately. He lifted the cover and began to read.
"Us Noctherians have always been special. We were born with masks, while others must trial for one or make a contract."
'So they are my race…'Dawn had been naive. He hadn't even considered the possibility that other races could possess masks too.
"Even the special bloodlines aren't guaranteed a mask. But even beyond that, we are more special. You, as a Noctherian, have the choice to make a contract with another mask — on top of already having one."
"So I can have two masks? How does that work?" he muttered aloud. "Do they switch out? Or do they merge?"
His questions, unfortunately, remained unanswered.
"Of course, this comes with a cost. It is much harder to progress to the next stage."
'So there's a drawback. Seems like a balanced trade-off. And I don't even have to make a contract.'
Dawn continued reading, fully intrigued by these new revelations.
"If you're reading this, you've likely been born with a mask… however, you may have a Soulborne mask instead of a bloodline mask."
'Soulborne… sounds ethereal. Is it literally made from your soul?'He wanted to ponder it further, but the words in front of him kept him focused.
"Soulborne masks are masks that your Elar Pulse creates at the moment of your conception."
'There's that Elar Pulse term again… it makes your Soulborne mask. How intriguing.'
"The mask of our race is black and purple. If yours is a different color, you may have a Soulborne mask, a contractual one if you made a pact, or both — which is possible for our clan."
Dawn paused. He had no idea what his own mask looked like.
'So… what does my mask look like?'A flicker of excitement danced in his thoughts.
He realized he needed to find a mirror. He had never heard the word before, yet the moment he thought about it, the idea simply appeared in his mind.
Dawn walked toward the front of the library, near the stairs. In the corner, he noticed a door marked "Bathroom."
Now that he saw it, he pondered the word.
'Bathroom… a bath room?'It confused him. How would a room meant for pouring water over oneself have a mirror?
Still, something compelled him forward, and he stopped questioning it.
He stepped into the bathroom. On the left, a mirror hung on the wall. He walked straight to it and stared at his reflection.
"Wow… beautiful," he whispered aloud.
He truly was, in every sense of the word.His mask was a stunning blend of orange, red, and black — radiant and fearsome. It looked like Dawn himself had descended from the sky to grace the world below. The intricate design resembled veins, interweaving like a map connecting three different realms.
He turned his head, experimenting with different expressions at every angle.Flawless. Impeccable.
Eventually, he returned to the reading area, mind still buzzing.
'Ah, that's right… a Soulborne mask then?'He had nearly forgotten about the terminology.
'Does that mean I'm special? Stronger even?'His pride swelled.
He settled back into the desk and resumed reading.
"No matter what type of mask you have, as long as you were born with it, the first step is to meditate and speak to your mask. If yours is Soulborne, it should reflect your nature well. Regardless of type, you must prove yourself to the mask — even if you were born with it. Dying means you were unworthy, and it will consume you immediately."
'So even the one thing that's stayed with me my entire life… could devour me? This world really is dark. Let it try.'
Dawn wasn't afraid. He was eager to challenge his mask.
He had never fought before — not truly — but the will to do so stirred deep within. It wasn't learned. It was in his blood.
In his very being.
In his...instincts.
So Dawn sat down.
And he began to meditate.