Smoke, Mirrors and Masks

The Middle

The soft chords of the harp settle draw you back into the room as the stranger stops talking. You try to catch their eye but their gaze is fixed over your shoulder. You ask why they've stopped but they hush you into silence. Their crystal eyes narrow to a glare beneath their mask of azure steel.

"It is as I feared. Your presence here has not gone unnoticed." The stranger leads you into a soft spin so that you're facing the opposite side of the room, then leans to your ear. "Over my shoulder, heading down the staircase."

The doorman there, his multi-diamond mask is unmistakable. He's trotting down the stairs alongside a small group, all dressed in sharp, three-piece suits. The doorman is leant in close to one of the quartet, offering unheard words to his ear. Their masks are of stark contrast to one another. Where the doorman's mask is a delicate myriad of black and white diamonds, the other is a sharp, metallic green with a curling mane made of triangular felt strips. The three accompanying men have plainer masks without manes, purple, red and blue in colour.

"The one in green. That's Moon-Raven." The stranger warns you. "Find your friend, you both need to leave."

You detest and insist that the stranger finish the story. But as you do you note that the doorman points at you from across the room. The man in the green mask turns his head and your chest constricts as his lifeless eyes fall upon you.

"Leave!" The stranger pushes you away, breaking from your embrace. You turn back to snatch at them but they've already melted into the crowd. You turn again. The green masked man hurries his descent, tapping on each step of marble stairway in quick procession whilst his entourage trail behind him. Panicked, you dive backward into sea of masquerades and start to tear the couples apart.

You plough through the bodies. Masks greet you on all sides. An assault of coloured patterns embellish crazed expressions, creating a harrowing maze of visual noise that stirs up a foot-tripping vertigo. The masks are laughing and howling as you desperately search for Rebecca amongst them.

Amidst a twirl you spy Moon-Swan's green mask through a small parting in the crowd. He's getting closer. The air in your mask grows thick with damp as you're attacked by a flurried wheeze. Instinct takes over and you back away from the threat, squeezing forcefully through a wall of shoulders. A sharp chime fills the air, as you back into the drinks table, knocking a handful of flutes to the floor. They cry out as they shatter and their inners fizz and bubble across the ballroom floor. You turn, Rebecca is no-where to be seen for a sea of heads block you view. Then an idea strikes! You leap onto the table, kicking more glasses aside as you find your footing and shout across the ballroom.

Your molars grind against one another as the whole hall turns to face you and the harps gentle tones fade to silence. Moon-Raven's angry shouts can be heard as he shoves people aside to make his way to you. You skin shrinks as someone pulls at your trouser leg.

"Are you mad!?" Rebecca cries, glancing to the surrounding crowd that now all face towards you.

You explain the situation in a short frantic burst and nod towards Moon-Raven. You stress the fact that you both need to leave.

"We can't leave! I know it's here, we can't leave without it!"

As she finishes her sentence the edge of the crowd parts and Moon-Raven appears. You instinctively stumble backward and topple over the multiple tiers of the drinks stand. You fall, accompanied by a shower of flutes and splashes of spilt alcohol. Theres a loud smash as you crash into a sparkling sea of glass. However, another noise catches the attention of the room, the distinct clatter of something heavy and metallic. Whilst groaning, you glance over your aching shoulder to see that the blade, Caliburn, has broken free of its display case.