The Mask and the Dark Path

Yamibõ stood behind the trees, watching the cave entrance, motionless. A long time had passed, perhaps half an hour, since the soldiers had entered with the slaves. The place remained silent; no sound came from within.

"What is this cave?"

"Who are these people?"

"And why are they hiding their faces?"

Questions mounted in his head. Something inside him felt uneasy. Not just the smell or the darkness... but the long calm that precedes something unknown.

Then, the soldiers began to emerge from the cave.

They walked without haste, speaking together in low voices; some laughed, others exchanged brief glances. None of them carried anything new, and there was no sign of the slaves.

They paused briefly at the entrance, exchanged words he couldn't hear, then began moving into the forest, one by one, until they vanished among the trees.

Yamibõ didn’t move.

He remained in place, thinking.

"Should I go in?"

"What if it's a trap?"

"But what if there is a real secret inside?"

He exhaled quietly. He had no choice left. If he waited any longer, the slaves might be moved, or the trail wiped clean.

He climbed down from the trunk he was perched on and headed toward the cave.

Yamibõ walked lightly toward the entrance, the black cat trailing him.

"What will we do now?" she whispered.

"We go in. We have to know what they're hiding here."

The two entered the darkness. The smell was foul, and the ground slippery.

Yamibõ approached one of the guards undetected. He was standing with his back to the entrance.

In a flash, Yamibõ reached out and drew the dagger from his waist.

The sound of metal caught the guard's attention.

"Who's there?" he said quickly, turning around.

But he saw nothing.

Before he could utter another word, Yamibõ had driven the dagger into his neck and pulled it sharply.

Blood gushed out, and the guard staggered for a second... then fell.

Yamibõ said nothing, simply standing there, looking at the corpse.

Then he turned his face toward the dark corridor and prepared to move.

As Yamibõ backed away from the first guard's body, the other appeared at the corner of the corridor.

He saw the blood and the corpse, then fixed his gaze on Yamibõ.

"Do you think what you did will pass unpunished?" he said, raising his sword.

He lunged at Yamibõ quickly, striking directly with his sword.

Yamibõ swerved aside, dodging the blow. At the same moment, he thrust his dagger toward the guard's stomach. But the blade hit metal armor and stopped.

The dagger got stuck, so Yamibõ let go immediately and retreated.

The guard laughed mockingly:

"What a rat."

The guard charged at Yamibõ with force.

The cat shouted:

"Dodge!"

Yamibõ leaped aside and fell to the ground, but didn't stop. He turned quickly toward the advancing guard, who said:

"Hmm... quick reflexes, but your luck is bad."

The guard stepped forward to plant his sword, thinking Yamibõ would try to grab his legs.

But Yamibõ moved differently; he dodged the legs and lunged at the guard's chest.

He locked his legs around the man's waist, reached for his head, and twisted the neck with a powerful motion.

A clear cracking sound echoed.

The guard fell, motionless.

Yamibõ said, catching his breath:

"That was rough... nearly killed me."

The cat stood beside him in the dark. She said in a faint voice:

"Yamibõ, I want to ask you something."

He answered, looking straight ahead:

"Speak."

The cat stepped slightly out of the shadows and said in a sharp tone:

"And why do you say 'speak' like that? I am male... not a female cat. You blind fool."

Yamibõ froze for a second, as if mentally thrown off balance. He said nothing.

"M... Male?!" he muttered in astonishment.

"Do you think soft fur and wide eyes mean I'm a female?"

"Okay... okay... let's go and see what's inside."

"Is 'okay' all you're going to say?"

"Come on, come on... is that even a question?!"

They advanced quietly down the inner corridor. It was narrow, its walls made of rough, damp stone, and the ceiling was neither low nor high just enough for a man to stand. Moisture trickled from the corners, and lamps hanging from the ceiling were extinguished. Old footprints were visible on the ground; some dipped in dried blood.

They reached the end of the corridor and stood before four wooden doors facing each other. The cat said in a low voice:

"Be careful."

Yamibõ answered:

"Yes."

He opened the first door slowly; the creak of hinges filled the place. The room behind the door was narrow but relatively tidy. A wooden table covered in dust, an overturned chair beneath it. Wooden shelves on the left wall were filled with old books, some dilapidated, others still legible.

He stepped inside and said:

"There's nothing here... just books."

He closed the door, then headed to the second. He opened it quietly... and no sooner had it partially opened than a foul, suffocating smell wafted out, forcing Yamibõ to retreat immediately. He raised his hand to his nose and fell sitting on the floor, retching silently from the intensity of the stench.

The cat whispered:

"What is this...?"

Yamibõ pushed the door fully open, pressing his sleeve against his face. Inside the room, the walls were covered in black mold. The floor was littered with old blood. In the corner lay the decomposing corpse of a man without limbs, bones protruding from the amputation sites. His eyes were open, frozen.

Beside the corpse sat something shiny... a strangely shaped mask. Yamibõ approached hesitantly, then reached out and picked it up without thinking. The mask was made of black leather, with two circular glass lenses at the top, and a long beak, curved like a crow's mouth.

As soon as he put it on, the smell disappeared completely. He felt clean air entering his lungs.

He looked at the corpse again and said:

"What happened here?"

The cat stood at the door, silent.

Yamibõ remained standing, staring at the corpse from behind the lenses.

He realized this place wasn't just a prison... but something deeper, and darker.

Deep in the dark corridor, Yamibõ began to hear the sound of approaching footsteps... calm, rhythmic steps, one after another, piercing the silence. He stood his ground, trying to distinguish their source. The steps weren't heavy like soldiers', but slower, more confident... and closer to danger.

Then a familiar voice was heard, speaking with clear mockery:

"Oh, look who we have here... an intruder."

A loud, raucous laugh filled the corridor:

"Hahahaha! Come on, come on, come out... I know you're here, don't bother hiding, Yamibõ."

Yamibõ froze. He had heard this voice before... It was that person.

Elsewhere, inside a dimly lit room, the man leading the search for Yamibõ sat on a wooden chair. He was shaking his leg nervously, hands clasped, head bowed over the table. Moments later, he stood up suddenly and began pacing back and forth, his steps erratic.

"Haven't you found him yet?!"

"No, sir... we are still looking."

He screamed in anger and punched the wall:

"Where did that rat go?!"

Then he muttered to himself, his voice faint and fearful:

"If that madman finds out what happened... he'll kill me."

Yamibõ stepped out the door with calm strides, his eyes gleaming behind the mask. He stopped abruptly when he spotted a man standing at the tunnel entrance, holding a long spear as if it were part of his shadow.

Yamibõ turned slowly, saying nothing.

The man said quietly:

"I thought that when you put on that mask... I wouldn't recognize you, Yamibõ."

Yamibõ raised his head slightly, sighing with a semi-mocking smile:

"Ooooh... you still call me by that name, huh?"

The man replied in surprise:

"And what should I call you then?"

Yamibõ answered, turning his back:

"You can call me... The Crow."