Symbols of the End

Then, out of nowhere, Marla raised her hands… and began chanting.

Strange syllables. Like some forgotten language. Her voice trembled, but her clouded and grey eyes never blinked.

The room dropped several degrees.

"I swear it just got colder in here," someone murmured, hugging their arms. "Did they crank the air conditioning or something?"

"The spirits want to help.

The ones we lost…they scream.

Their pain rots the walls of this place.

They seek justice, not rest.

They have chosen some of you.

Do not reject their gift.

Or their wrath."

Marla announced.

Then she stopped mid-chant and stared straight at me.

Her eyes locked with mine. I couldn't look away.

"You," she said, pointing. "You're the Mask."

My blood ran cold.

"You wear your past like silk," she whispered.

"Soft to the touch. Easy to slip off.

A mask cannot bleed…but it will crack."

I couldn't breathe.