The air was heavy with anticipation.
It was the day of the trial.
I adjusted the cuffs of my suit, my fingers briefly running over the fabric before moving to the mask that now concealed my identity. Camille had outdone herself—again.
The Leviathan Mask rested snugly against my face, its dark, abyssal design carrying a weight far greater than mere aesthetics. This wasn't just a disguise. It was an identity. A presence.
One I had to embody.
I turned to the others.
Sienna wore the heavy-duty firefighter gear of Mr. Fox, its sleek and practical design reinforcing the silent strength of the identity. Camille had perfected Mr. Dust's look—a muted trench coat, subtly worn at the edges, perfect for someone meant to disappear into the background. Alexis had outdone herself with Mr. Angel, the celestial-like robes draped over her figure making her appear almost ethereal.
They looked the part.
Now they just needed to act it.
