ALLISON.

Celestine stood at the head of the table. She was wearing her usual long white dress flowing like mist, her straight black hair cascading over her shoulders. I’d almost compliment her ethereal beauty if it weren’t for the fact that I hated every fiber of her being. I scanned the table and saw that she was talking to four other people, all dressed in formal black attire.

But what caught my attention were their masks. Two men and two women.

Two of them, one man and woman, ...