Steele

The silence gnawed at my skin and prickled my conscience as it echoed in my head. I concentrated on my even breaths; their rasped whispers bounced off the skull mask I wore and silenced my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, the flicker of candlelight highlighted the ancient stone walls and danced shadows down the darkened halls that led to the chambers. We stood with our hands clasped behind our backs, our burgundy velvet robes hung off our shoulders like royal cloaks, the hoods draped over our heads to disguise our identities. Not a movement in the shadows as my Brothers and I stood and waited for the ritual to begin. We gathered to celebrate the Brotherhood of Skulls. Or, as I liked to think of it, to sacrifice our souls to the underworld of corruption and privilege.