Page 11 of Semblance

A few minutes before the witching hour, there was a knock on my door.

“I’m ready to party,” I replied.

Abraham entered, dressed in an elegant custom suit that fit snuggly on his thin frame. His graying hair was slicked back and he was clean-shaven. In his hand, he was holding a mask as well.

“Let’s see what yours looks like,” I said, pointing to his mask. He raised it to his head and slipped it over his face.

“How do I look?” he asked.

The mask was smooth and polished grey and its features reminded me of an elegant looking wolf, both feral and beautiful to look at.

“You look like a handsome wolf,” I replied.

“Excellent,” Abraham said. “That’s what I was going for. I feared my mask strayed from my original design and became too beastly looking.”

“You were going for the big, bad wolf look?”

“The wolf is the symbol of my family,” Abraham explained, the mask still on his face. “It has become synonymous with the Constantine family name.”

“Is everyone’s mask at the party going to be unique?”

“Yes,” Abraham replied. “Every person tonight will have symbols on their masks that tell a rich story of their family’s background.”

“What about mine?” I asked as I examined the golden mask again. On closer inspection, I noticed that the patterns formed the outline of twin doves interlocked together. “What do these doves symbolize?”

Abraham smiled. “The doves symbolize your legs my lady,” he said, “And to have them intertwined together tells everyone that your legs are closed. This is the myth of the Golden Virgin.”

“But I’m not a virgin,” I protested. “It’s just a bold-faced lie.”

“And my family wasn’t a pack of wolves either,” Abraham replied. “Remember what I said about stories? Some of the most powerful empires are built through stories.”

“You also said that some of the most powerful empires are destroyed through stories.”

“Touché.”

From downstairs, I heard guests being welcomed at the door. Abraham gestured to the mask in my hand.

“Well Aria, the golden angel of chastity and virtue, are you ready to meet your destiny?” he asked.

“I’m never ready,” I replied. “But what other choice do I have but to keep on moving through life?”

“None,” Abraham replied calmly as he ushered me through the chamber door and out into the hallway.

By this time the mansion was already filled with a fair number of guests. The men wore full facial masks, painted in dark colors, some resembling animals while others were smooth surfaces with beautiful patterns and symbols etched into them. Meanwhile the women wore simple white masks that covered only the upper half of their faces, some decorated with feathers and jewels and others plain. It seemed like I was the only woman displaying a full mask that concealed my mouth.

For a moment, I was worried that breathing was going to be an issue but the air holes in the mask were crafted in such a way that airflow was not restrictive.

Abraham led me to a wide-open area of the mansion, a circular foyer where all paths converged. It reminded me of the center of a labyrinth, with the exception that instead of a massive man-killing Minotaur waiting for me, there was the most beautiful and rare piano in existence sitting on an elevated circular stage.

The angelic glow from the ceiling lights enveloped the entire stage, accentuating the beauty of the nine-foot Heintzman Piano.

It was so very surreal.

I couldn’t believe that I, Aria Valencia whom only four days ago was eating peanut butter and pickle sandwiches—not because I liked them, but because there was nothing else in my fridge—was going to play music on an extravagant work of art valued at over three million dollars.

I almost wet myself in front of everyone. Thank God for my mastery over my urinary tract. They would have had to change my nickname from the Golden Virgin to the Golden Shower otherwise.

A familiar voice echoed throughout the hallways, captivating the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

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