"The masked man was surrounding the castle, one by one, moving through the floors like a wave that cannot be stopped. His clothes were elegantly elaborated, fine silk and gold threads made by only the finest in their land, the colors rich and captivating. Like a whisper he traveled the rooms, leaving only death in it's wake. As for his mask, is was as grotesque as they come: diseased and bloody, showing it's true purpose coming to the party. Death surrounded him like a pitch black cloak. Silent and vigil, he was waiting for the moment to strike."
"Why he would do that momma?"
Helen looked at the eyes of her youngest, scared and open, hiding behind the threshold.
"Because he was bringing to them what they deserved."
