Inside the cozy warmth of my studio, I get to work meticulously organizing my equipment and reviewing my checklist. Every detail had to be perfect, from the lighting setup to the angles I would use.
This was my stage, and for the final act, nothing could be left to chance.
I leaned back in my chair, allowing the weight of the day to wash over me. Thinking back to this morning when I sat in the dimly lit room, my eyes scanning the familiar lines of the ophthalmologist's report.
The prognosis was clear—my vision was fading faster than I had feared. I took a deep breath, absorbing the stark reality.
The doctor had suggested several treatments, but all led to my vision being lost. My mind drifted to the countless hours spent wandering through sunlit fields, framing the perfect shot, and the sheer joy of seeing a captured moment come to life.
Knowing all of that would soon come to an end made me feel… depressed.
A knock on the studio door startled me from my looming thoughts. It was my assistant, Emma, who went to the same college as me, although being a couple of years younger and majored in business.
She entered with her customary bright smile, an aura of light that mirrored the very essence I sought to capture in my photographs.
"Luna, the magazine just sent over a few additional briefs," she said, placing a folder on my cluttered desk. Her eyes lingered on me as if she could sense my uneasiness.
"Thanks, Emma," I replied, trying to infuse my voice with a semblance of normalcy. "I'll go through them later tonight."
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching mine for some unspoken truth that I wasn't ready to share.
With a nod, she left me to my thoughts, her presence lingering like a soft afterglow.
I opened the folder, scanning the names and stories behind them. Each person has a unique narrative, a whole life they have lived, and I get to steal a glimpse at it through a single photograph.
As the night deepened and the city's hum turned into a soothing lullaby, I couldn't ignore the subtle shift within me. My fear was still present, like a shadow hugging the edges of my consciousness.
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes tracing the familiar light cast by the lone desk lamp.
What am I to do when everything I've worked for, longed for, will be plunged into darkness?
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, the crisp evening air seeping through the slight crack in the window.
I can't dwell on the negatives forever, so letting out a sigh, I started to plan for the upcoming shoots.
The soft creak of the door signaled Emma's return. "I brought you some tea," she said quietly, setting the steaming mug on my desk.
Her concern was palpable, undulating under her composed exterior.
I could tell she wanted to ask me what was wrong and why I'd been so closed off today. I gave her a small, appreciative nod as she retreated once more, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ever-present ticking of the clock.
As the aroma of chamomile wafted around me, I looked at a picture on my desk. It was of Emma and I when I first rented out a dingy studio.
Our smiles were so bright I'm sure even the space station could see them.
I know I need to tell Emma. By all rights, she should know, as she stuck by me through everything as my best friend.
She helped me build this studio from the ground up, and even though it's not the biggest, my studio and prestige in the photography world are nothing to sneeze at!
Sipping the tea, I allowed my mind to wander back to the beginning, to the first moments I fell in love with photography.
As a child, I used to sneak away with my father's old camera, venturing into the woods near our home at dawn to catch the morning light filtering through the leaves.
It felt almost godlike as I could take a sliver of time and freeze it for the world to see.
Shaking my head from the past, I smacked my face to focus on the file I had in front of me. Tomorrow, I will face my first subject, Anna Woolsgreen, an influential philanthropist whose work transformed entire neighborhoods.
I reviewed my notes about her, noting the charities she supported and some of the controversies she had navigated.
I started planning the session down to the last detail. The background, the lighting, the angles—all would illuminate not just the physical form but also the spirit and impact of the woman herself.
As the night continued, I set my pen down and allowed a moment of vulnerability to wash over me.
Today was a long day.
Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them away, unwilling to give in.
Instead, I focused on the project, envisioning the story of Anna Woolsgreen I wanted to tell. She makes a hefty donation to kids in Africa every year but is also known to frequent nightclubs with different young men each time.
The paparazzi have not once captured a single photo of what they look like or figured out their connection to Anna.
Now, I know it's not my place to pry into the lives of my subjects, but I won't deny that I enjoy some tea with Emma while we work.
I'm a sucker for a good drama... who isn't! Wondering who this mystery man could be, I fired up the good old Google and began my research. For work purposes, obviously!
The morning arrived with an unexpected loud thud. Jerking up, I noticed that I was still in my clothes from yesterday.
Looking around, I saw that I was definitely still in my office at the studio.
With a stiff neck and some droll, I wiped off my cheek, got up, and opened the door to my office.
The studio buzzed with quiet activity, and Emma bustled about with a contagious energy that lifted the fog of my sleep. "I've set everything up for your first session," she said, handing me a schedule and a cup of tea.
I yawned as I took the schedule from her and flipped through the pages. "Don't tell me you slept here again last night!" Emma said, shaking her head.
"Oops... you got me," I threw my hands up in surrender and gave her a sheepish smile.
Grabbing my bag and tea, I made my way to the front. Blowing a kiss behind me, I exited, hearing Emma laugh as the door shut.
As I walked to the location, the city awakened around me. I found myself lingering a moment longer than usual on each face, each street corner, trying to etch them into memory.
The thought of losing this—this ability to see, to capture—was a shadow that loomed over every step.
Arriving at the ornate building, I was greeted with the polished veneer of professional smiles and firm handshakes as I was led to an office.
The secretary knocked once and opened the door, motioning me to enter.
"Miss Luna Solis has arrived," another secretary announced to Anna as she sat behind her desk.
She was warm and graceful, her demeanor exuding the quiet strength of someone who had seen much and given even more. "It's an honor, Luna," she said softly, her eyes reflecting genuine kindness as she got up and extended a hand.
"Please, the honor is all mine, Mrs. Woolsgreen," I said while shaking her hand. "You have a beautiful office here."
Looking around the large space, my eyes lingered on two rows of masks. Three on one side and three on the other, with one at the end in the middle presiding over them.
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
My eyes flickered to Anna. She was walking towards them, beckoning me to follow. "Yes, they seem otherworldly," I replied in earnest.
I stopped at the last mask on the left and studied it closely.
The mask was delicately shaped, and its color was a shimmering bone white that seemed to shift into a cool pale blue like a living aurora. The surface is engraved with intricate patterns that look almost like constellations, starting from the lower left corner and flowing across and upward. At its center, above where the brows meet, is an embedded fragment of rock.
Looking closer, I noticed it had little cracks stemming from the right cheek. I felt drawn to it and lifted my hand to touch it.
"You have a good eye, Miss Solis." I suddenly put my hand down at the sound of her voice, embarrassed by my actions. "For some reason, I feel captivated by it."
Nodding at my statement, Anna moved behind the one in the middle. "Do you know what these masks are?"
Wanting to learn more, I shook my head no.
"A long time ago, when civilization was in the first stage, there were beings rumored not to be human. Rather known today as gods, goddesses, or the divine, back then, they were called the Luminarchs and the Illuminae."
"It is said that there are two realms that make up our universe, the Celestial Realm, where the Lumicarchs and Illuminae reside, and the Mortal Realm, where we humans reside." She paused, letting the words sink into me.
"The name Luminarchs was derived from 'lumen,' meaning light, and 'arch,' meaning leader or principal. The name emphasizes their role as beings of light and wisdom, guiding the mortal realm from the celestial plane. In contrast, the name Illuminae, meaning 'those who shed light' or 'the radiant ones,' conveys their role as bearers of divine truth and protectors of knowledge."
"The so-called divine beings had powers beyond our imagination. Once men started fighting each other and sins like pride, greed, and envy started to run rampant, the beings thought it was time to step in."
Anna was now gently holding one of the masks in her hands, looking at it with fondness.
The mask in her hand was in pristine condition, with no cracks, and dipped in a lovely gold color. Although different, I could see engravings like the one before me.
I didn't know what to say just yet, so I stared at her in anticipation, urging her to go on.
" The Illuminae, seeing how corrupt man could be, decided that the Luminarchs would descend to the mortal realm and banish the sins of man."
"But being of such divine brilliance, ordinary mortals couldn't look upon the beings without suffering."
"So the Illuminae started crafting masks called the 'Luminal Visages.' These masks were considered both a shield and a bridge, crafted from the essence of the celestial realm to conceal and preserve their presence."
"Making it so the Luminarch's divine radiance dimmed like a cloud before the sun so they could interact with the mortal world. The fragment at the center serves as the 'anchor' or 'bridge' to the celestial realm."
Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but ask, "This mask seems to be the only one cracked. What happened to it?"
Placing the gold mask back on the pedestal, she made her way over to me. "Ah, this mask belonged to--"
A sharp knock at the door interrupted her sentence. A serious-looking man in a black suit came rushing in and whispered something in Anna's ear. "Would you excuse me for a moment," she said, making her way to her desk.
Wondering what was going on, I decided to busy myself with taking some snapshots of her office.
I snapped one of her behind her desk, talking on the phone. I was too far away to hear what she was saying, but from her stern expression, I could tell something was off.
Changing gears, I snapped a couple of pictures of the masks, paying close attention to the one with the cracks.
"I'm so sorry to do this. Can we reschedule the shoot for another time? Something personal has come up," Anna said coldly.
Her gaze flickered to my camera and back to the masks. Sensing her unease, I put my camera away.
"It's no problem; just have someone reach out later to schedule a day that works best for you."
Shaking my hand once more, she said, " I look forward to our next meeting. I will have my secretary here see you out." I nodded my head in agreement and politely thanked the large man in the suit.
"Follow me, Miss Solis," Taking large strides out of the office, I nearly had to jog to keep up with him. I could tell he wanted me out of the building as fast as possible.
"Mrs. Woolsgreen sure is a busy woman," I said, trying to break the awkwardness in the elevator ride down to the first floor.
He just nodded and sped up once we got to the building's lobby.
"Please have a safe return; someone will contact you shortly to reschedule," Mark said, stopping at the front desk.
His name tag caught the light of the afternoon sun. Bowing a little to say thanks, I turned to leave.
I could tell he was watching me as I made my way to the front revolving doors.
Wondering why everyone seemed so on edge, I looked to the side to a separate entrance and saw a man around my age being escorted to the elevators.
Several large men in black suits surrounded him with every move. My eyes met Mark's, and he gave a nod that seemed to say, "Forget what you just saw."
With more questions swirling around in my mind, I walked out of the building and made my way back to my office. I didn't dare look back in fear of meeting Mark's cold, hard gaze again.