The mask was suffocating tonight.
Cora Mercedes stood in front of her bedroom mirror, the dim glow of her bedside lamp casting her reflection in soft shadows. Her fingers traced the black mask clinging to the lower half of her face, its edges cool and smooth beneath her touch. The sight of it, even after all these years, still filled her with unease.
"Never remove the mask."
The warning, as old as her earliest memories, echoed like a ghost in her mind. A faceless voice, firm yet oddly tender, had whispered those words the night she was found as a baby. They were the only clue she had to her origins, an unsolvable puzzle that taunted her.
Outside, the wind howled, rattling the old windows of the Mercedes family home. The storm wasn't just in the air tonight; it brewed inside her chest as well, a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation.
"Cora?" Evelyn Mercedes's voice broke through her thoughts, followed by a soft knock on the door.
Cora turned as her adoptive mother stepped into the room, her warm eyes scanning her face. Evelyn's gaze lingered briefly on the mask, as it always did, before settling on Cora's dark eyes.
"You're nervous about the scholarship results, aren't you?" Evelyn asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Cora nodded, forcing a small smile. "A little."
A little was an understatement. The Oscar Island University scholarship was more than just an opportunity to escape the monotony of small-town life. It was a door to the unknown, to a place steeped in secrets that mirrored her own. If she got in, she might finally get some answers—about the mask, her past, and why she had always felt like a piece of her was missing.
Evelyn reached out, gently smoothing a strand of Cora's jet-black hair. "You'll do great. You belong there, mask or not."
Cora's smile faltered. Did she belong anywhere? The mask made her a curiosity, an anomaly. It hid her, yet it defined her.
Before she could respond, the sharp ring of the doorbell echoed through the house, startling both of them.
"Who could that be this late?" Evelyn frowned, glancing toward the stairs.
"I'll check," Cora said, eager for an excuse to leave the conversation.
Descending the creaking staircase, she opened the door to find a small package resting on the porch. The night air was biting, heavy with the promise of rain, and the shadows seemed deeper than usual, as if the darkness itself was watching her.
There was no note, no sender. Only her name written in elegant script on the brown paper wrapping.
Curiosity prickled at her as she picked it up and brought it inside, setting it on the dining table. Evelyn joined her moments later, her concern etched into her features.
"What is it?" Evelyn asked.
"I don't know," Cora replied, unwrapping the package carefully.
Inside was a leather-bound journal and a single black feather, its edges glinting faintly in the light.
Cora opened the journal, its yellowed pages filled with intricate symbols she couldn't decipher. As her fingers brushed the paper, a strange warmth seeped into her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
Evelyn's face paled. "Cora, don't—"
Before she could finish, the symbols flared with a blinding light, and the world tilted.
When Cora's vision cleared, she was no longer in her dining room.
She stood in a vast hall, its stone walls illuminated by flickering torchlight. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of earth and something metallic. Shadows danced on the walls, their shapes shifting as if alive.
Ahead, a circle of hooded figures surrounded an altar, their low chanting filling the space with an eerie melody. The sound was hypnotic, pulling at something deep within her.
At the center of the altar lay the mask—her mask.
Her breath caught. The mask was identical to hers, down to the tiniest detail. How was that possible?
"What is this?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
A deep voice answered from the shadows behind her, smooth and commanding. "Fate."
She spun around, her heart pounding as a figure emerged from the darkness.
He moved with a predatory grace, his presence commanding the air around him. His features were sharp and striking, his eyes—deep and unyielding—seeming to pierce through her very soul. The tailored black suit he wore contrasted sharply with the ancient stone hall, making him look like a creature caught between two worlds.
Cora took a step back, her instincts screaming at her to run.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
The man tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Someone who's been waiting for you."
His voice was velvety and calm, but there was an edge to it that made her uneasy.
"Waiting for me? Why?"
Instead of answering, he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, his gaze never leaving hers. "Has no one ever told you the truth about that mask?"
She swallowed hard, her mind racing. "What truth?"
He didn't reply immediately. His eyes flicked toward the altar, where the chanting grew louder, the hooded figures swaying in unison.
"This place," he said, his tone shifting, "is not where you're meant to be. Not yet."
Cora frowned, confusion and fear swirling within her. "What are you talking about? Where am I?"
The man's expression darkened, the faint smile vanishing. "You'll know soon enough. For now, you need to leave."
Before she could protest, he raised a hand, and the torches dimmed, the shadows around them seeming to close in.
"Wait!" she shouted, reaching for him.
But the world dissolved into darkness, and she was falling.
Cora jolted awake, gasping for air. She was back in the dining room, sprawled on the floor. The journal and feather lay untouched beside her, as if they had never moved.
"Cora!" Evelyn's panicked voice brought her fully back to reality. She knelt beside her, her hands hovering uncertainly over her shoulders. "What happened?"
"I…" Cora struggled to find the words, her mind spinning. The image of the hooded figures, the altar, and the man's piercing gaze burned in her memory.
Her fingers brushed the edge of her mask, the familiar sensation grounding her. But for the first time, it didn't feel like protection. It felt like a weight—something she couldn't escape.
Far away, in the shadowed halls of Oscar Island University, the man stood by a tall window, staring out at the storm that raged beyond. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as he watched the rain streak the glass.
"I finally found her," he murmured, his voice thick with longing and relief, as if centuries of waiting had led to this moment. "After all this time…"
The storm outside roared, the winds carrying his words into the night.