Smoke, Mirrors and Masks

The Beginning

Beneath the silver of a waning half-moon you fix a mask of white porcelain over your face. Two diamonds cover each eye, black and red respectively. Great twirls of lusty felt curl out from its sides, tinged with stitches woven with gold thread that glitters softly in the cities night-time shadows. Whilst undoubtfully beautiful, it is an awkward fit and the inside is filled with a wet, irritable fog as you struggle to control your nervous breath.

Rebecca puts on her mask also. A huge unnerving smile now acts as a wall that hides her gentle face. Ashy lace twists out from the mask's edges, curled to form a bouquet of ghostly roses. A dagger of glass, fixed in centre of the mask's forehead, crowns a pair of encrusted, amethyst eyes through which Rebecca's glare burns like glowing iron. You finish tying your mask and ask Rebecca a question.

"Yes," Rebecca replies, "This is definitely the place."

You overlook a section of the city as chilly, midnight breeze rolls up the street. It's magnificent, the old central palace. Once a playhouse for royalty and aristocrats, it now stands as a brick-and-stone memory hidden between towers of black glass that long to touch the sky. Not fully forgotten, but a blind spot in the eyes of passers-by. If they were to offer a second of focus, squinting through the neon glow of the modern city, they would see the limestone bricks hum with a golden glow under the weak rays of the half-moon above. You watch as those enjoying the city-night brush by masked parties who glide silently under the palace's tall archways. Vanishing, like ghosts, into veils of shadow. A fearful unease, sends an icy ripple down your back. You turn to Rebecca for reassurance.

"We'll be fine." Rebecca affirms as she ties the threads of her mask into a bow. "You remember what to do at the door, right?" She extends her hand out to you. You swallow lightly and take hold of it, poising the tip of your thumb on her index knuckle. She nods and withdraws. Still concerned, you ask a final question.

"We can't think about that." Rebecca breaks the handshake apart. "This might be our last chance to find out what really happened. And our last chance to find Moon-Raven." She gives your arm a reassuring squeeze, then begins her steep descend down the narrow street. You follow, fidgeting with your mask as you go as it refuses to settle on your face.

The pathway's decline levels out into a cobblestone square with the palace's golden archways standing ahead. The city folk pay you little regard as you amble forward. Your attention is drawn to a group of four who appear from the mouth of another pathway, each clad in flamboyant masks of their own. Rebecca subtly taps your arm and nods toward them.

"It'll be better if we enter as part of a group." She whispers softly.

You're hesitant but Rebecca marches on ahead giving you no time to protest. A sharp sigh is all you can do to express your annoyance before you bumble after her. As you draw close to the foreign group you struggle to supress a series of panicked pants. The masked figures turn one by one to greet you, each glowing white within the night. The moments tension is relieved somewhat, as the head of the group pulls out the sides of her black frock and offers a curtsy. Rebecca mirrors the gesture and you follow up with your own flustered greeting. The lady giggles softly and turns to leave, with the rest of her group following in suit. Rebecca glances to you and gives a light shrug of the shoulders.

You take note of the groups fine dresswear as you pass under one of the archways. The men's Edwardian tailcoats are creaseless and the women's bouncing ballgowns have not a single fold or stitch out of place. Their outfits are matched in their splendour by the shoes accompanying them. The men's pointed brogues are polished so finely that they marble the faint neon glow of the city within their blinding shimmer. And the lady's heels dazzle with a fractured-diamond sparkle. Glancing at your own shoes causes you to worry. Sure, they're smart, classy even, but they're dull in comparison. You swallow the shame as you follow the group through a set of doors made from swirling mahogany, which emit a bellowing yawn as they open. Your breath trembles once more as you're confronted with another masked figure, waiting for you in a narrow, windowless corridor.

The black and white diamonds that litter his mask compliment the sharp, clean edges of his three-piece suit. One by one he silently greets the newcomers, offering a hand to each of them. The group you tailed all pass through without a word spoken and exit through another set of double doors. You catch a faint glimpse of white before the doors drift to a close behind them.

Now it's your turn. You step forward and offer a hand out to the diamond faced man. You're received with a lifeless stare. Your mask burns against your face as several second pass. The masked fellow glances at your feet. This is all going to go wrong, you're sure of it! Your other hand, which is folded behind your back, clenches itself into a fist.

Your lungs open up as the man begrudgingly receives you with a handshake. As practiced, you place your thumb on his index knuckle and the man gives a slight nod.

"Make more of an effort next time, brother." He steps to one side and invites you to pass through the double doors behind him. You dare not race forward, though you'd like to, but instead quietly waltz through the doorway. The joy of relief flooding your chest.

You're blinded as you enter. The room's brilliance slowly starts to bleed into focus as your eyes adjust to the sudden white intensity. A crowd is revealed, masked men and women, congregating in the centre of a vast ballroom. The sea of suits and dresses are swaying gently to the soft melody of a live harp and piano duet, sitting on the far side of the ballroom on an elevated stage. The sweet notes of their songs flood the marble-carved room, dancing along the ballroom's tall, curved walls and flowing up the two stairways at either end of the hall, filling the balconies above. Where white statues, depicting angels and fair maidens, offer their stoic gazes to the congregation beneath them.

As you look up to embrace the entity of the ballroom you're struck by its most awesome feature. A multi-tiered chandelier, suspended from the domed ceiling. It is a cloud of diamonds, that shines over the ballroom with the brilliance of a thousand stars, flooding every corner of the room with light as pure as liquid silver. It casts a spell over you and in the moment you forget where you are entirely, until a familiar voice pulls you back into your senses.

"I think we'd do best if we split up." Rebecca's suggests, as you blink away the room's glare. "We can talk to more people that way. Meet me back here, at the door, in an hour."

Before you have chance to say anything, Rebecca has disappeared into the sea of slow dancers. You stand for a moment, unsure as to what to do. Your shoes fill your thoughts again. What a terrible way that would be to blow your cover. As you listen to soft strings of the harp your shoulders relax and you allow its song to guide you. In an aimless flutter you skirt round the sea of swaying suits and dresses until you're met with a layered drinks table, offering a selection of multi-coloured cocktails which bubble away in tall, diamond flutes. A thick, glass case crowns the highest tier of the drink table. You lean forward to look at its contents. A sleek sword is laid inside, its blade dulled by time. Though you notice a line of lettering etched upon the metal: Cleddyf y Brenin.

"Impressive, isn't it."

You snap back from the table and almost collapse into someone behind you. They prevent the collision by softly resting a hand on your shoulder and laugh lightly, clad in a mask of ocean-blue. "Easy, let's not knock me over."

You apologise whilst rubbing the back of your neck.

"You're interested in Caliburn?" They ask, nodding to the sword behind you. You both turn to face it and you express your admiration for the strange relic. The stranger leans over the collection of drinks to view the blade better. "Yes, an incredible find. Edgar spent many years looking for it and with Moon-Raven's funds he was finally able to locate this legendary weapon. Personally, I think it's the most impressive discovery made by the Children since the location of the Peacock Cane." The masked stranger leans into you. "And what about you? What is it you're searching for?"

The question catches you off guard and a hot flush races up the back of your neck. Your heart jumps as the stranger glances to your shoes. As they look back up, their mask cannot disguise their prying, yet alluring, gaze. They gingerly take your hand and whisper, "Shall we dance?"

You don't resist and you're not sure why. You're gently pulled into the sea of masks, lace and tailcoats, and in the heart of ballroom the stranger wraps their arms around you. The sudden advance draws you short of breath and yet you slowly settle in the strangers embrace, naturally swaying to the harp's milky tones. A set of crystal-blue eyes sit beneath their mask like sapphires. They're enchanting, you see innocence there, but fear also. They lean in close and whisper's softly, "I know what you're looking for. I know what happened five years ago. I know the truth about Edward Young."