The sun was already dipping behind the hills when Sall arrived at Abdul's house. His hands were still cold despite the mild warmth of the late afternoon. The house, modest but solid, stood at the edge of the street as if it had been waiting for his arrival all along. The door creaked slightly as Sall pushed it open and stepped inside. The air carried the faint scent of wood and dust, mingled with the subtle aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
"Tea or coffee?" Abdul asked, hanging his coat on the stand.
Sall remained silent. He sank into a chair, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked, eyes fixed on the floor. His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath heavy and deliberate. Abdul watched him for a few seconds, brow slightly furrowed, before letting out a soft sigh.
"Wait, I think I know what you want…" Abdul said, turning his heels toward his bedroom. He closed the door leading to the street behind him.
Sall raised his eyes, looking around the room. This was not the family house. This was not where he had grown up. So where exactly was he? And why was Abdul living here alone? His heart tightened, caught between curiosity and wariness.
"This is my home," Abdul said, placing an object on the table. "I've been living here for some time. I work, I have money… I live alone."
Sall blinked, following Abdul's movements with his gaze. On the table lay an unusual object: a mask. It seemed ancient, but it radiated something familiar, something almost unsettling.
"What… what is that?" Sall asked, tilting his head in confusion.
Abdul sat across from him, arms crossed. His expression was both serious and slightly amused, as if he was waiting for Sall to grasp the significance on his own.
"This mask belonged to your father. It has been passed down in our family for generations. Now, it was your turn to keep it," Abdul explained calmly.
Sall's eyes widened as he stared at the mask, his breathing quickening. A single horn jutted from the left eye, higher than the lashes, splitting into two fine tips. Two small crimson stains, like dried blood, marked the ends. The mouth gaped open, frozen in a silent scream, and it had only one eye. A form unlike anything Sall had ever seen.
"I… I don't understand…" Sall muttered, his voice trembling. "Why… why does it look like this?"
Abdul shrugged slightly, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"All of these masks contain an entity. A different entity. Like the one that attacked you in the taxi. We can make pacts with them to defend ourselves from evil entities… but every pact comes with a price."
Sall furrowed his brow.
"A price? Like… what?"
Abdul took a deep breath, his dark eyes fixed on Sall with intensity.
"I gave half of my life to my mask," he said simply.
Silence fell. Sall blinked, stunned.
"Half of your life?" he stammered.
"But… how can someone do that? Why give half your life for powers?"
Abdul raised an eyebrow and shook his head slightly, a mixture of amusement and resignation in his expression.
"Sometimes," he said, "it's the only way to survive."
Sall turned the mask over in his hands, feeling the cold, rough material. His heart pounded. How could his brother accept such a cost? Why would anyone? And why, now, was he, Sall, expected to take over?
"What does all of this have to do with me? I didn't ask for any of this!" Sall shouted, partly to himself.
Abdul tilted his head, his eyes a blend of patience and gravity.
"You know your family didn't die by chance. There are circumstances behind those incidents. You, Sall… you have a role to play."
Sall sank back into the chair, eyes vacant, yet a part of him was now anchored to Abdul's words. Disbelief slowly gave way to curiosity, anxiety to a flicker of anticipation.
"And you?" Sall asked, pointing toward Abdul's mask. "You really gave half your life to that… thing?"
Abdul offered a faint, sad smile, almost imperceptible, as if mocking himself and the situation at the same time.
"Yes. And you know… you better think carefully before making a pact with your mask. It might make you an offer… or you might have to make one to it."
Sall lowered his eyes, hands trembling. The mask felt heavy in his hands—not because of its physical weight, but because of the invisible burden it carried. He wondered how long he could bear it, and what sacrifices might be demanded.
The discussion stretched into the evening. Occasionally, Abdul shared small, slightly humorous anecdotes about his own mask—clumsy mishaps or absurd situations where he had to negotiate with the entity. Sall let out a small laugh despite himself, surprised by these flashes of lightness in an otherwise tense conversation.
When the light finally waned, Sall leaned back in the chair, exhausted yet unable to detach his mind from the mask. Eventually, he rose and moved toward the bedroom Abdul had prepared for him. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the mask still on the table beside him.
He thought over everything Abdul had said. He considered his brother's life, the sacrifices, the pacts. He thought of his own family, the deaths that had seemed accidental, now revealed under a different light. His mind spun, unable to rest.
After a long period of tossing and turning, he finally got up silently. Thirst gnawed at him, so he opened the tap—but nothing came out. He frowned, sighed, and made a decision: he would go to the nearby convenience store for water.
Before leaving, he slipped the mask into his pocket. He stared at it repeatedly along the way, fingers tracing its cold contours and crimson stains. He didn't know what to do, weighing the risks and implications.
The evening air was cool, and the neighborhood unusually quiet, almost too quiet.
As he walked, a chill ran up his spine. Something felt… off. The shadows seemed darker, the sounds muted. He shook his head, telling himself it was only his imagination. Yet a persistent sense of unease reminded him that his world had changed, and that this mask, the pact, and the entities it contained were only the beginning of a series of challenges he had never imagined.
Sall reached the store, bought the water, and hurried back. Along the way, he glanced at the mask again. There was something in its lines, its horn, its single eye, that seemed almost alive. As if it were watching him. As if it were waiting.
Back home, he closed the door carefully behind him, making sure everything was calm. He placed the mask back on the table, glancing at it one last time before returning to his bed. Thoughts swirled relentlessly in his mind. He knew this night would be difficult, that sleep would be scarce and fragile. He also knew that tomorrow, everything would change, and his life would never be the same again.
But for now, Sall lay there, staring at the ceiling, alone with his thoughts and the mask. The shadows in the room seemed to move gently, reminding him that family, pacts, and entities were never truly far away.