Episode 4: Fractured Mask

The morning mist clung to Creekside's fairways like a guilty conscience. Eric Pearson stood at the tee pad of hole 3, watching his Star Destroyer sail toward the basket in a perfect hyzer line. The disc hit chains dead center—and passed through them like they were made of smoke. 🌫️⚡

"What the..." Eric muttered, jogging toward the basket. The Enigma Lattice at his side pulsed with violet light, its interlocking patterns shifting frantically. Reality wasn't just glitching—it was hemorrhaging. The geometric grids of his bag tag phased between dimensions, trying to stabilize whatever was tearing at the fabric of the course.

Across the fairway, other players were discovering something far more disturbing than phantom baskets. One by one, competitors reached into their bags to find ornate masks nestled between their discs. The masks were beautiful in their wrongness—carved from what looked like frozen shadow, inlaid with glyphs that seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at them. 🎭💀

"Rodriguez, don't put that on!" someone shouted, but it was too late. The moment the mask touched skin, Rodriguez's entire demeanor shifted. His casual morning round stance straightened into something more predatory, and when he threw his next shot, the disc traced impossible angles through the air, defying every law of physics Eric had studied at the Academy.

The Enigma Lattice burned hot against Eric's hip. Through its dimensional overlay, he could see what others couldn't—thread-like tears in reality spreading from each masked player like cracks in glass. The masks weren't just changing behavior; they were turning people into walking reality wounds.

"Everybody stay cool, cosmic wanderers!" Herald Veyra's voice carried across the course from the elevated commentary position. "Just some gnarly morning vibes, nothing we can't ride out together. Though, uh, maybe keep those funky face decorations in your bags for now, yeah?"

But Eric could hear the calculation beneath Veyra's laid-back tone. The Warden leader was buying time, assessing threats while maintaining calm. Three players had already donned masks, and more were pulling them out with expressions of fascination rather than fear. The things were beautiful, seductive even, promising secrets behind their shadowed eye holes. 🔮🌊

Eric activated the Enigma Lattice fully, letting its stabilizing field expand outward. Under its UV resonance, the masks revealed their true nature—each one inscribed with corruption glyphs, viral patterns designed to spread doubt and dissolve loyalty. But there was something else, something that made his blood run cold. One mask pattern didn't match the others. One mask bore Warden encryption underneath the Fracturebound corruption.

"Hey, Chen!" Eric called out to a newer player fingering a mask nervously. "Trade you three Star Destroyers for that mask. Collector's item, you know?"

Chen looked relieved to have an excuse not to wear it, quickly making the trade. Eric pretended to admire the mask while the Enigma Lattice decoded its hidden layers. The encryption was definitely Warden-made, but twisted, inverted. Someone on the inside had helped create these.

More players succumbed to temptation. Martinez slipped on a mask and immediately began throwing shots that curved around trees, through solid objects, finding baskets from impossible angles. The masked players weren't speaking to anyone anymore, just playing with an eerie synchronized precision that sent shivers down Eric's spine. Each throw deepened the reality tears. 🎯⚔️

"Check it out, dudes," Veyra's voice maintained its mellow tone, but Eric caught the coded message underneath. "When you're catching a wave, you gotta read the water, feel which currents are gonna take you home and which ones lead to the rocks. Some waves look sweet but hide gnarly riptides, you feel me?"

The Enigma Lattice suddenly flared, its geometric patterns locking onto a specific energy signature. Eric's eyes widened as he traced the source—hole 13, the island green surrounded by Creekside's signature water hazards. Someone was there, someone whose glyph signature registered as both Warden and not-Warden. The traitor.

Eric grabbed his bag and started moving, trying not to draw attention. The masked players continued their uncanny round, each throw carving deeper wounds in reality. Through the Enigma Lattice, Eric could see the course's underlying geometry beginning to buckle. If this continued, Creekside would become another breach point, another hole for the Fracture to pour through. 🌀💫

At hole 13, Eric found what he'd feared. Warden Thale, one of Veyra's trusted lieutenants, knelt at the center of the island green. Geometric patterns spiraled out from their position, and in their hands, a disc glowed with forbidden light. They were trying to open a portal, using the combined power of the masks as anchor points.

"It's not betrayal," Thale said without looking up, their voice hollow behind their own mask—the original, Eric realized. "It's revelation. The Veil isn't protecting us, Pearson. It's blinding us. There are truths beyond that we need to see."

The Enigma Lattice pulsed urgently. Through its dimensional sight, Eric could see what Thale was attempting—not just a breach, but a fundamental rewriting of the course's reality. The portal would transform Creekside into a permanent threshold between realms.

"Truths that require deceiving your own people?" Eric pulled out his most trusted disc, a beaten-in Firebird inscribed with stabilization glyphs. "That's not revelation, Thale. That's just another mask."

Thale's head snapped up, the mask's eye holes revealing swirling void. "You think your little geometric guardian makes you righteous? The Enigma Lattice was born from the first containment—it doesn't know freedom, only cages!" 🚨🎭

Eric didn't have time to argue philosophy. The portal was forming, reality creaking under the strain. He needed to disrupt the ritual, and in disc golf as in magic, geometry was everything. The Enigma Lattice projected optimal flight paths, calculating angles that would intersect with Thale's glyph matrix.

His first throw was a precision hyzer, the Firebird carving through the morning air. It struck one of Thale's anchor glyphs, shattering it in a burst of violet sparks. Thale snarled, redirecting energy to compensate, but Eric was already throwing his second shot—a skip ace run that would complete a containment triangle if it connected.

"Whooooa, heavy cosmic turbulence at the island!" Veyra's voice boomed across the course. "Remember, bros, when reality gets choppy, you gotta trust your line and commit to the shot. No hesitation in the barrel!"

Thale fought back, launching their own discs wreathed in chaotic energy. Each throw tore new holes in space, forcing Eric to dodge between dimensions. The Enigma Lattice worked overtime, weaving patches across reality tears even as new ones formed. This wasn't sustainable—Eric needed to end it fast. 🌊⚡

Drawing on every ounce of Warden training, Eric pulled out his last resort—a prototype disc infused with pure Enigma Lattice energy. One throw, one chance. The angle had to be perfect, threading between Thale's defenses to strike the portal's core.

"You can't stop the truth!" Thale screamed, pouring everything into the failing portal.

"I'm not stopping truth," Eric said, finding his line. "I'm preserving choice."

The disc left his hand in a perfect flat release, the Enigma Lattice guiding its flight through impossible space. It struck the portal's center just as Thale's last defenses crumbled. Reality snapped back like a rubber band, the portal collapsing into geometric fragments that the Enigma Lattice quickly absorbed and neutralized.

Thale fell to their knees, mask cracking and falling away. Without the portal's power, the other masks across the course began to fail. Players stumbled, confused, as the corrupting influence faded. But Thale was already moving, diving into the water hazard. By the time Eric reached the edge, only ripples remained. 🌀💀

"Epic save, my dude!" Veyra appeared beside Eric, having descended from the commentary booth with surprising speed. "That was some seriously sick containment geometry. Though our barnacle-brained buddy made it to open water, huh?"

Eric nodded, watching the Enigma Lattice slowly dim as it finished repairing the last reality tears. "They knew our protocols, our weaknesses. This was planned for months, maybe longer."

"Yeah, heavy revelation, bro." Veyra's perpetual smile faltered for just a moment. "Trust is gonna be like morning glass from now on—beautiful but fragile. Still, we held the line today. The Veil stands."

As players recovered their discs and their senses, Eric noticed several masks remained unclaimed in bags. The corruption might be contained, but the seeds of doubt had been planted. Players looked at each other with new suspicion, wondering who else might be wearing invisible masks.

The Enigma Lattice pulsed one final warning. In the UV spectrum, Eric could see a message Thale had left behind, written in water droplets that would evaporate within minutes: "The Echo Rift remembers what the Veil forgets."

Eric shared a look with Veyra. Whatever came next, the game had changed. Trust was now a luxury they couldn't afford, and somewhere out there, Thale was carrying Warden secrets to the enemy. 🎯🌊

"Just another day in paradise, right?" Veyra said, but even their cosmic chill couldn't quite mask the worry underneath. "Come on, let's help these confused souls finish their round. The show must flow on."

As they walked back toward the other players, Eric kept one hand on the Enigma Lattice. Its geometric patterns had saved them today, but he couldn't shake Thale's words. How many truths were they sacrificing for stability? How many masks were they wearing without knowing it?

The morning mist began to clear, but the shadows it left behind seemed deeper than before. 🌅⚔️

Next Week: The Echo Rift awakens, offering power to those willing to risk everything. But in a league where trust has shattered, who dares to reach for dangerous rewards?