ACT ONE: EUROPA

Scene 1: Epanorthosis

Act 1, Scene 1

The infinite sky that surrounded him was frightening and the ground that reflected that endless blue above him was the least comforting of floors. Devon looked at the reflecting floor and touched the soft white hair that blew on the wind. Bright white hair and bright white eyes shone back at him from the mirror. He looked around, seeing nothing but a blue canvas dotted with clouds moving overhead. Where was he? Devon thought, taking a large step. Was he stuck here? He wandered around for a bit before seeing a hazy figure in the distance. He ran towards it; leaving his lungs burning and his legs weak. When he reached his arms out to touch the figure they turned. From a glance they seemed annoyed, frustrated and then, noticing it was him, smiled.

"Ah, Devon. You're here. I'm sorry you don't remember much. It's just something that happens sometimes" He was a taller and slimmer man. His face was covered by a dark masquerade mask. His outfit was black and dark blue with a few hints of red to seal the evil aesthetic. "Close your eyes now and wake up."

When Devon awoke he had a pounding headache. His lungs no longer burned and his legs rested on a clean mattress. He was laying in a bed he didn't recognise. Its clean white sheets smelled of lavender and the decor of the room wasn't any more colourful. The white wall to his left had a large open window in the centre. Outside was a haze of a sickly sight. When Devon went to investigate he put his hand to the window and suddenly it changed to a bright sunny day with rolling green hills and smiling sunflowers. He took a few steps back and fell onto the bed.

He tried again to open the window but this time was met with the sight of an orange sky with a setting sun, the hills had gone dark and the sunflowers had gone to sleep. He gave up after a while and took another look around the room. The large bed sat between two bedside tables with matching white lamps. Devon drew himself closer to the table and opened up the first drawer. Inside was a dark blue envelope. A rooster sigil sat in the bottom right corner. He felt the sigil with his clean hands. Its texture was shinier than the smooth matte finish to the card. When Devon turned it in his hands he didn't see any name, any address or any stamp so he opened it.

To Whomever receives this letter,
                                                           This is a formal invitation to the King's annual masquerade ball. Whoever ends up with this letter shall be allowed to enter the palace on the night of the 17th. In celebration of the King uniting the countries of Europe into a single nation. Arrive at the Château de Versailles on the night of the 17th of November.

From His Majesty,
                                The King of Europa.

King of Europa? Masquerade? Devon was profusely confused. He had no memory of any king...or anything. He couldn't remember anything! His name was Devon, he knew that, but the reason why left him. He was twenty one. He knew that. He couldn't remember anything else. Where he was, what he was doing. Did he have a job? Was he in school? Did he have a favourite colour? He couldn't remember anything else. Had he been struck with amnesia? He scrambled around the room for a hint of anything. He found a phone and immediately tried to turn it on. Only to get an empty battery icon. He looked around for a charger and dived across his bed to plug the phone in. As he waited for it to charge he crept downstairs. Scared that someone might find him lurking he kept close to the ground and tried to stay silent. He found the pale kitchen and looked around. He knew what everything was, the oven, stove, cupboards, kettle and the microwave but he had no memories attached to the objects. He was coming up blank. He turned the sink tap on and filled the kettle. He wandered through to the living room as the kettle started heating up. There were a few more virtual windows, their screens displayed the happy hills from the bedroom. Devon was without words. Something pounded in his head again and he grabbed his temple. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea overcame him. But as quickly as it came it went again. Lost to the scrambled shards of memories of his mind.  He thought it over in his mind. When the sickness came back he reached for the door in hopes of fresh air filling his lungs and washing his headache away. He desperately grasped the door handle and flung the windowless door open.