Aurelia sped over the desert sand on her hoverbike, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. Canyons loomed over her, painted orange and red. She had no idea where she was headed. The day was still early, the sun was still low in the sky. Her blank mask, which stared up at her from her leather bag, mocking her.

This was her right of passage. She could take as much time as she wanted. She had tried to plan her journey, but everytime, it had seemed like she had chosen the wrong path. All her friends had theirs planned since they were young, but her plans kept changing. She had mapped out her route many times and then erased it, until she had finally gone back to the original one she had planned hours ago.

Large sandstone pillars peeked out from the entrance to the canyons. Good. I could use a break. She hit the accelerator. There were a lot of old monuments that had been erected years ago, but their meaning had been eroded away by the sand, and time. Now, they meant shade. Ari parked her bike next to one of the large cone pillars. Near the top, each one had a small, door shaped hole, which reminded her of a needle. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and began climbing. She had always had impressive climbing skills, but she wasn’t the best climber in her clan. The bricks had provided easy hand holds, the only thing that made it difficult was the sand that fell onto her face.

She pulled herself up into the small hole, which offered shade and a good view. Panting, she slid her bag down next to her. Sandy dunes stretched for miles on either side of her. Ari pulled out her datapad and brushed the dust off of it. The map loaded onto it displayed her location, and the nearest village 12 dunes away. Damn. Her hoverbike was already at a half tank, and she couldn’t get there if she tried before nightfall. Might as well sleep here. She pulled out the blank mask. She would have to decorate it before she returned. It would symbolize her journey, who she wanted to be, and what her role in her clan was. When she got home, she would have to wear it for the rest of her life, which made decorating it intimidating. It was supposed to be unique and reflect her personality and her values. It was not that she didn't have any ideas about how to decorate it, she had far too many. How could she be expected to pick one and stick with it?

She took a careful sip from her water canister. It would have to last her a day or two. She spent until sunset carefully planning her route, trying to conserve as much fuel as possible, but it looked like she was going to be walking at least one dune if she was lucky. The sun hung low in the sky, and the clouds turned gold. Sighing, she put aside her data pad and pulled out a protein square and a small loaf of bread. She had always hated the tastelessness of protein squares. The bread was the only good part of her small meal, and the large, golden sun melting into the horizon. Stars began to dot the sky, forming familiar constellations. When she was young, she had been afraid of the dark. Her father took her outside one night.

“Dad? Why are we outside now? It’s dark. There could be creatures.” Her dad’s mask hid his expression, but she could tell he was smiling.

“Dangerous creatures fear the light. They won't come near our village,” fondness painted his voice. He looked up. “Now, why fear the dark when you can see stars?”

They had spent many a night after that going out to spot constellations.

The next morning, Ari woke to the sunrise spilling into the hole where she slept. She ate the other half of her bread as she gathered her belongings, and then climbed down the pillar.

“Today,” she promised herself, “I will figure out the first thing to add to my mask.” She tied her bag onto her hoverbike and mounted it. It hummed to life, and the indicator revealed a half tank of fuel. She would end up walking later. She sped off into the dunes.

She arrived in the small village, sweating and dehydrated. She tugged the hoverbike into the mechanical stall. She borrowed a few tools as she filled up the tank and made some minor repairs. She knelt beside the bike as she bolted the seat panel back on.

“Anything I can help you with?” Someone asked. The voice came from a middle-aged man with a brown mask with a matching brown cape. His mask was different from the masks of her clan. His mask was similar enough, but the patterns were a little different. She still could tell he had the markings of a mechanic.

“Do you have water?” She asked. He laughed heartily.

“Yep. Right over there,” he said, pointing to a well. She brought her canteen over to it as he reeled in the bucket. She could be a mechanic, she thought. She was good at repairing hoverbikes.

“Thanks,” she said, carefully filling her canteen. She hastily gulped down the water, and refilled the canteen.

“No problem,” he said cheerfully. “You on your right of passage journey?”

“Yeah.” She glanced at her mask.

“Bit of advice; go talk to the Storyteller. She lives just back that way, last house on the road.” He gestured down the street. Ari gave a quick nod of gratitude and mounted her bike. “Good luck!” He called, and she was on her way.

As soon as he was out of sight, she hesitated. She didn’t have to talk to the Storyteller, whoever she was. She could keep going, or explore the market. But she found herself headed towards the storyteller’s house anyway.

She pulled up at a small round home, typical to this region. She knocked on the door hesitantly. It swung open.

“Hello?” She peeked inside. Maybe she should just turn around and leave.

“Ah, hello child. May I help you?” A tall woman came to the door wearing a white mask covered in intricate designs.

“Are you the Storyteller?”

“I am. Please, come in,” She stepped back, her white cape fluttering with her.

The Storyteller’s house was equally modest on the inside, with only a small living space and kitchen, and Ari suspected the bedroom and bathroom were downstairs. The Storyteller disappeared into the kitchen and Ari hesitantly sat down at the small round table and pulled out her parchment she was using to practice designs on. She was digging through her bag for her brush set and ink when the Storyteller returned with a tea tray and fresh bread.

“Tea?” The Storyteller placed the tray on the table and sat down.

“Thank you,” she said, and the Storyteller poured her a cup, and the distinct aroma of various spices drifted across the table. She politely helped herself to a slice of bread, which reminded her of a warm hug.

The Storyteller took a careful sip of the tea as she eyed Ari’s designs.

“Are those yours?” She asked. Ari hesitated to answer.

“Sort of.” The Storyteller’s eyes seemed to bore into her from behind her mask. “Not exactly,” Ari sighed. “I was getting inspiration.”

“Why do you need inspiration?”

“I don’t know what to put on my mask.” She could feel her face heat up, and she took a sip of tea, hiding her expression.

“I think you do already.” She flipped the parchment over. “Draw anything, and don’t look at your references.”

“It won’t look good.”

“It doesn’t have to. This is only practice.”

Ari stared at the blank parchment for a moment.

“What should I draw?” She asked, glowering at her.

“That decision is only one you can make.” Ari picked up her brush and hesitantly dipped it in the ink. With a flicker of rebelliousness, Ari stared her down as she drew one blue line and set her brush down.

“That is a great start,” the Storyteller responded placidly. Ari huffed and added a dot. “Keep going.” The flicker of rebelliousness faded, and Ari carefully added a few shapes. “Oh,” The storyteller said as she stood up, “I have something for you.” She glided down the stairs to the basement, and Ari continued her design. She returned a few moments later with a bottle of rose-colored ink.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. It was rude of me.” She bowed.

“Your apology is accepted.” She could hear the smile in the Storyteller’s voice, and she dipped a pick into the ink and carefully drew a mandala design, just following whatever came to her.

“Where did you get this ink?” She asked, uncomfortable with the silence, but she also didn't really want to talk. Listening was better.

“It was given to me by my mother. It isn’t that rare, I’ve seen similar colors at the market being sold for five credits.”

“I think it looks nice.” She carefully practiced her clan’s symbol; a jagged shape resembling the head of a bovine with a crescent behind it and on its forehead. “What is the rarest ink?”

“Nightblood. It only comes from a creature called The Darkness. Very few have ever obtained it’s ink, because it is a very dangerous creature. It’s ink is very special.” Ari looked up.

“Do you know where I could find it?”

“Is that the path you have chosen?”

Ari thought for a moment. There were a million other things she could choose to do with her journey, but this called to her. She knew her mind was set on this path.

“Yes. But I don’t want to kill the Darkness.”

“Oh?”

“My clan’s people are shepherds. We don’t believe in killing rare creatures just to show off, it is better to befriend them.” The setting sun spilled across the table. She would be the first one to tell the story of The Darkness.

She knew where she was going now.