Narlyth

Lore
Costin tossed a flour bag down onto the floor of the castle larder and coughed as white dust swirled around him. He wiped the errant flour off his featureless porcelain mask and his tunic and headed back through the kitchens. He nodded at the other servants bustling about, some with eyes sparkling through the holes of their masks and others with tired gazes and slumped shoulders. He emerged into the tropical sunlight while seagulls lazily flew up above and the fresh scent of the ocean drifted to his nose on the warm air. He nodded to the two guards at the gate in their beaten metal masks, slowed his walk, and finally, stopped on the cobblestones of the inner courtyard. He stared at the guards, puzzled. Didn't he know what their faces looked like? Why couldn’t he remember everyone's faces? Had they always worn masks all day, every day, or was that not normal just a few scant weeks ago? He stared for a moment more before his mind twanged back into place like a bowstring. Of course everyone wore masks as they always had. He resumed his stroll and went to fetch a bucket for the kitchens. Beneath the sunlight and beneath the courtyard and beneath the castle foundations, a newly-freed Narlyth lay coiled in an ancient grotto and warped the souls of those above.