The air few cold as Leyana turned the corner, the flicker of her lantern catching on a figure ahead. At first, she thought it was her own reflection, but the torchlight cast no gleam in its hollow eyes.
"Who are you?" she demanded, voice trembling.
"You know me," it replied, in her voice but laced with a jagged, mocking edge. "I am your truest self."
Leyana's grip tightened on her sword. "Lies."
"If you think so," it said, tilting its head. "Then why do you fear me so deeply?"
The lantern flickered again, and the Masque was gone, leaving only her own shadow shivering on the wall.
Mirror in the Dark
There is an old tale whispered in the shadows of dimly lit taverns, shared in hushed tones by those who claim to have glimpsed the truth. It speaks of the Masques, the devils that are les a being and more an idea given terrible, deliberate form.
In their natural state, if such a thing can be called natural, a Masque is a hollow figure cloaked in flowing black, its face a shifting void. Not darkness, no; darkness implies depth, an absence waiting to be filled. This is emptiness without hunger, a blank slate that promises nothing but the reflection of your own fears and desires. It is said that when it looks at you, it does so without eyes, and yet you feel the weight of its gaze all the same.
But a Masque is rarely seen as it is. It is a devil born of lies and secrets, and its preferred visage is your own. No, not merely your face, but the parts of you that you only show to yourself; your uncertainties, your hopes, the self you hope to bury beneath layers of confidence or indifference. When a Masque takes your likeness, it is not a copy, it is a truth you have denied given flesh and malice.
Visage of the Mark
A Masque does not simply mimic. It enters the spaces between relationships, speaking in your voice, walking in your step, performing actions you might not, but which could be believed of you. It stokes doubts and mistrust among the closest of companions, spreading discord like a fine oil across the waters of unity.
Those who encounter a Masque and survive - for some do, though never without scars - say its true power lies not in the chaos it causes, but in the lingering question it leaves behind. When you meet your reflection, it asks nothing, offers no bargains, demands no submission. It simply smiles your smile, and then it is gone. You are left wondering: was it ever there at all? Or was it something within you, dredged up and given form by the devil's cruel will?
In the infernal courts, it is said that the Masques are feared even by their kin. For in the Hells, where deceit is a currency, there is no greater terror than one who can lie with your own face.
Every time I think I've read your most scary article, you come up with something even more terrifying. I think that's a gift. XD
Explore Etrea | Reading Challenge 2025
They're definitely doing better than when I was actively trying to write scary articles, so I think I've learned over the years