Calling herself Death… she at least knew that much. At least that resonated. Perhaps Mortala wasn’t too far from this amnesia of the spirit. This was a game, a game I had to play. A farce I’d promised my bride I’d play with her. What is one game among millennia of devotion? She couldn’t see herself, and I couldn’t either, until she was revealed on Halloween night with the veil at its thinnest. Death, the master of the hidden. A long and drawn-out game of hide and seek.
