The girl's name was Mira.
She led him through the dripping forest in silence, the lantern's light trembling with every gust. He followed wordlessly, the cracked mask tied to his belt, its faint reflection flashing whenever lightning crossed the sky.
"You're lucky I found you," Mira said softly. "No one comes out here anymore. Not since the fog started whispering."
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His tongue felt heavy — sealed by the gods' decree. Yet every step he took made the world feel… wrong. Too real, too sharp.
By the time they reached the edge of the woods, dawn had begun to bleed across the horizon. A small village lay ahead — crooked houses, smoke curling from broken chimneys, fields drowning in rain.
Mira led him into one of the huts. Inside, candles flickered in dusty glass jars, and a few old symbols were carved into the wooden beams — circles crossed by lines, charms against falsehood.
"Sit," she said, wringing out her soaked robe. "You can't stay here long. The others don't trust strangers."
He obeyed. The chair creaked under his weight. She noticed how his eyes followed the symbols, lingering on them as if they mocked him.
"You know what those are?"
He gave a small nod.
"Then you know why you shouldn't lie here," she warned.
He almost laughed again — a dry, broken sound that made her flinch.
Later, when the villagers gathered, the questions began.Who was he?Where had he come from?Why did his mask bear the sigil of the old gods?
He couldn't answer. So Mira spoke for him — and lied.
"He's a traveler," she said quickly. "A mute pilgrim from the southern isles. The storm caught him."
The crowd murmured. Suspicion flickered like sparks.
Then something impossible happened.
A man at the back — scarred, limping — gasped as his leg straightened. The old wound healed before their eyes, skin knitting together like silk. The man fell to his knees, weeping.
"A miracle," someone whispered. "The gods have blessed him."
And in that moment, the Fool understood the weight of his curse.Every lie spoken in his presence could become truth.
Mira turned toward him, horror dawning in her mismatched eyes.
"What are you?" she whispered.
He smiled — a silent, painted smile that did not reach his eyes.
A lie given flesh, he thought. A fool's god among believers.
Outside, the storm began to quiet.Inside, the village began to pray.
And somewhere deep in the heavens, the other gods stirred — sensing that their banished liar had begun to speak again, even without words.