the robed figures

…the light from my bike cut through the dark just far enough to see them three of them now gliding down the road toward us that's what they were doing gliding their feet moved like they were walking but they weren't touching the ground Their robes didn't billow, didn't move at all, as if the air didn't exist around them. And the masks, god the masks.…

…one figure stepped into view tall broad with a strange mask covering their face the mask looked carved almost tribal with sharp angles and hollow eyes they raised something over their head a bundle wrapped in what looked like cloth and twine the chanting stopped abruptly replaced by a long guttural moan that seemed to echo from the forest itself I grabbed…

…there wasn't time to argue and staying behind felt worse we crept through the trees sticking close to the thicker shadows the chanting grew louder with every step cutting through the night like a blade when we reached the top of the hill overlooking the tracks we saw it the ruin was lit from within a flickering golden glow that danced out through the broken…