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The Festival of Thousand Masks echoed with laughter outside, but Zhen Xian could feel nothing but the crushing weight of his duty. In the ritual hall, the seals flickered—weakening, pulsating with an unfamiliar energy. He tried to steady his breathing, but panic gnawed at him.

"Why now?" he muttered under his breath. The spirits were stirring. No, this can’t happen. Not tonight. Not with everything on the line.

The incantation felt wrong, slipping from his lips without conviction. His hands shook as the seals cracked, the power within them growing unstable. His heart pounded. He wasn’t ready. The ritual wasn’t just a procedure—it was the village’s protection. Without it, everything would collapse.

"I have to keep them sealed," he thought desperately. His vision blurred. "If I fail, there’s no one else. They won’t forgive me. I can't—"

His chest tightened. He glanced at his apprentice, knowing they couldn’t bear the burden. "It’s all on me," he said in a quiet whisper, his voice trembling. “I’ve trained for this. I can’t let it slip now. I won’t...”

The spirits’ energy surged, breaking through the cracks in the seals. "No... no!" he gasped, panic rising in his throat. The power within him faltered. His hands went numb as the ritual unraveled.

The seals shattered with a violent crack. The spirits screamed.