The song of his mind was always beautiful. It played without rest.

It carried him, whoever or whatever 'him' was, like a ship floating peacefully down a calm river. He rocked back and forth with the tempo, mimicking the idea of the ship that played through his mind before it slipped away from him completely, replaced by the sweet and resonant song of the Arcolith.

In the river of his mind, he could feel something happening in the world around him, but could not see it even as he felt strange movements buffeting his form. His eyes only saw white. A sensory-depriving, monolithic white, sitting in vague shapes that passed around him as he floated down the river of his mind.

It was comforting. He felt safe in the river. 

If he tried to focus on the little sensations, he could feel something in his hands. Something with woodgrain. It was a nice texture. A muscle movement here, pressure on the knees there. A momentary touch of cold metal to the tip of his pointer finger. Each sensation quickly faded back into the warm sensations of the river. 

The song's ever-present notes continued to float above and around him before dancing into his skull and causing pleasant vibrations in the bone. 

He could really use a nap. 

Walking his undecorated thoughts in a circle, like a hound about to lay itself down he prepared to sink further into the song. 

Yet, that didn't happen.

The song faded from his ears, becoming distant and muffled. That alone was almost enough to make him panic. Never before had the song quieted itself. Had he displeased it somehow?

He opened his eyes, expecting that soft white to greet him as it always did, like a snowy morning. Soft and fluffy. Comfortable to lay in. 

Instead, color and shape had bled into his vision. Rather, he was seeing through eyes, but only that.

He wasn't in control of the body staring out over a crowd of people seated in rows far below him. All of them were paying no mind to the bearer of the eyes he was looking through, instead watching a performance on stage. Some sort of singer, but thankfully the song in his head blocked it out, despite its dimming. It still blocked out every other sound, he noticed to his added relief.

Suddenly the body was in motion. Its head ignored the crowd below, and instead scanned balconies built into the wall opposite, much like the one it was sitting in. It appraised each one individually, taking in its occupants and comparing them to some unknown criteria before moving on, unsatisfied.

Starting from the balconies closest to the stage, and methodically moving between rows, the body eventually alighted upon what looked to be the most prestigious seats. Directly opposite from the stage and sitting just above the crowd in the seat level with the stage. The stalls, he thought they were called. The name came unbidden to his mind. 

In the state box. Four people sat with four others standing farther back, dressed in rather ostentatious uniform. All purples, reds, and golds. Whoever they were, they were what the body was looking for. It was suddenly in motion, smooth as silk. 

It rose from where it was sitting, a rather plush-looking high-backed chair with two holes punched in its woven back. Circling the chair, he could see the previous occupant of the box sprawled on the floor, two red blooms on the clothing on the back to match the holes in the chair. 

The body's face looked peaceful. 

Exiting through the door in the back of the box and silently closing it behind, the body started to make its way toward the last box it had examined. Carefully passing men and women dressed in quality but unostentatious clothing, bearing glass bottles filled with liquid to other boxed seats.

They paid the body no mind as it traversed the carpeted hall, glittering crystal chandeliers giving off a comfortable and refined air.  

He hoped that this strange bought of sight and sound would be over soon, and was granted a small reprieve. The hallway seemed to stretch and warp, its dimensions becoming impossible before color and clarity bled away, leaving only the comforting white he was familiar with. 

He felt himself relax, like one might settle into a warm bath, a contented sound escaping his lips. His lips? Yes, he supposed that they were... 

The song of his mind came back in full force as he attempted to curl himself into a ball and keep floating in the river he could only feel. The color and motion had been rather upsetting, he thought. So loud and powerful that it nearly hurt thinking about it, even now.

No such luck was to be had, as his interruption continued a moment later, sight and sound bleeding in through the white around him again. This time he found himself in front of an ornately decorated door. 

The body inclined its head down, looking towards its chest before plunging a hand into the doublet it was wearing. As the eyes tracked the movement, he could see two bodies slumped on either side of the door, each one in the ornate uniforms he had seen in the state box in the previous vision. 

No blood stained the royal purple tabards, but their chests did not rise or fall.

The hand emerged from the clothing, clutching the edge of something metal, flat and etched in places on the sliver of the side facing away from the torso he could see. 

It was a mask, wrought in gunmetal steel, that the body started to bring towards his viewpoint. in the moments before it was placed, a new feeling bloomed within him. A familiar feeling, he thought. His...heart? His heart felt like it wanted to flee, the rest of him be damned, when he saw that mask coming towards him. The body's own breathing sped up, as if in response to this new feeling. 

He wanted to go back to the river. 

Please. 

Don't make him be here anymore. 

The eyes stared unmoving at the mask, making him watch it black out everything in his vision before he could see through its eye holes. In the moment before the smooth surface of the mask's back got too close for him to see any of it, he noticed one marring of its flawless surface. 

In between the eyes, just above where the nose would fit without being crushed, the stamped form of a woman, like a fairy in form and countenance, sat facing him. Like the image on the head's side of a coin, but looking sorrowful with her legs curled against her chest and arms linked around her knees. 

As the mask passed by the horizon of his ability to focus on it, the stamped form moved as if alive. She turned to face him, features warped by a sorrow he could feel in his chest.

Engraved tears streaked down her face.

As soon as the mask was in place he was moving again, opening the door with smooth motion just enough, and sliding in like mercury through fingers. 

Inside he found the reverse of the image he'd seen from across the opera hall. 

Four guards, dressed the same as the ones slumped outside, stood at loose attention. Two of them looked away from him, in the direction of the three ornate chairs. 

The other two looked right at him, whose halberd tips had already inclined towards the door. 

"I'm sorry sir, this box is currently off limits." One began, holding out a gloved hand. He was heavyset, standing a full head higher than the guard to his side. "Why did Bertram and Lefwald even let you in?" 

The body slowly closed the door behind itself until he heard the soft click. One step forward was all he took before standing stock still in the lamplight. 

"Wait," the other guard said stepping forward. He was smaller than the first but wasn't small by any means. Looked quick. They both noticed something at the same time. "What's that mask you're wearing?"

"Elyas, get back-!" The big one suddenly shouted, the hand being held in front of him seizing the other around the shoulder and yanking him back with surprising speed. It didn't save the throat of the smaller one from being opened by a stiletto dagger, pulled from some hidden fold of clothing, and stabbed upwards. He felt the body had missed its mark, but the guard fell all the same. 

The big one bellowed as the smaller one gurgled on the ground, setting both hands on his halberd and driving it forward in an attempt to ram it through the body. 

The body drew a rapier from its side so fast it blurred as it moved through the air to meet the thrusting halberd, smashing it off-course so hard the two weapons sent a shower of unnaturally colored sparks, white and red, in every direction.

The eyes he was looking through paid no head to splotches left behind by the explosion of light, and the body dove into the attack again. The tip of the rapier transitioned from block to several rapid jabs just as quickly as it was drawn, putting the big guard on the defensive.

The halberd's movements were surprisingly deft, almost matching the body's own speed. Each blocked strike sending more sparks into the air and lighting up the plush interior of the state box. It reminded him of a hilltop sitting under a star-filled sky. Streaks of light burned up into the sky bursting in colors of red and white. Then other colors, gold, purple, and blue sparked to life. 

Then it was gone. The image remained, and he searched for the rest of that... memory, but it was to no avail. Memory? That's a new word to come to his mind, but it felt right. He didn't think he'd had any memories before. He couldn't decide if he wanted any more. 

The body hadn't stopped moving while he wasn't paying attention, and as his attention returned the body looked away from its current duel and towards the front of the box in an almost casual fashion. Not faltering in its perfect movements, but no longer giving the duel it's full attention. The other guards were stepping around the high backed chairs, one on either side, with snarls in place and halberds pointed in his direction.

The body had other plans. In a single flourish, it changed the direction of the rapier from towards the chest of the big guard to the hand higher up on the halberds haft. The blades tip passed clean through flesh, bone, and wood. Pinning it to the halberd for a but a moment, then savagely pulling it away. 

Even that didn't put a stop to the guard. He tried to barrel forward, bloody hand out to try and wrap the body up in a bear tackle. Another jab, to the leg, stopped the charge. Then another, to the stomach, toppled the big guard to the floor.

Now the other guards rounded the chairs and brought their halberds to bare. 

The body had no desire to fight them, instead looking back towards the opening of the box. 

Behind the guards, four figures now stood with their backs turned to the performance below. One girl and one boy, both of which looked to be in their mid teens. Both wore determined expressions, tinged with worry. The second pair were adults, each grand in stature and wearing circlets of gold set with a large sapphire each. Their expression held the same determination as the younger, but this time held no trepidation. 

Each of them was armed, and had drawn their weapons. A collection of rapiers and short blades, each one looking to be finely crafted. The mark of nobility, he thought unexpectedly.

The older man leaned over to the younger and said something to both in hushed tones. 

The remaining guards hit the ground almost simultaneously, just as the older man finished relaying his message. 

The younger woman wrapped her arms around the man her age, and took two big steps back towards the front of the box with him in tow. When her waist made contact with the bannister, she simply rolled backwards, carrying the young man with her over the edge. 

He wanted to give pursuit, see if he could do anything to arrest their fall, but he was trapped as he ever was in the body.

The remaining man and woman must have been the bodies target, as it simple stared at the pair as they each took paces towards him before stopping, weapons interposed between them and the body.

"Why are you here?" The woman asked. Her tone made it clear she knew already. "To kill us?"

The body didn't respond, only staring with it's weapons down by it's side. The feeling he got was pensive. The body was considering it's next move.

"Look at his eyes." the man said loud enough to be heard over the performance below. The man's own eyes flashed with the same recognition the first two guards had before the body launched into action. "It's the Coffin."

Coffin? What in the world does that mean?

"The mask certainly fits." The woman said, tightening her grip on the pair of curved swords she held. "What do you think we should do? Capture? The public certainly would like to see him hang." 

"No..." The man said, sadness stepping in beside that hard look in his eyes.

"No?" 

"He may have earned a name through his action, but he's no man. He's just like all the others out there, even if he is more dangerous than the average. It's only right that we put him down like a sick dog." 

To this, the body did respond.

It began to chuckle.

The chuckle became a laugh. A dry, manic sound like it was the first noise that the body had made in the entirety of it's existence. The sound was baleful, horrible to hear and bear, cutting through the performance in the distance as well as what little he could still hear of the song of his mind.

Both the man and woman tensed at the sound, angling their weapons up a bit farther to a more ready position. The body simply continued to laugh. 

A moment passed. Then another. The pair maintained their stance, neither advancing or retreating. 

Finally, the song of his mind started to regain its strength. White started to overtake his vision, muffling the raucous sights and sounds of the strange vision. Before it overtook him completely, the booth filled with a purple light.

"By all that's hung by the rope..." The man said, now looking above the bodies eye-line to what had to have been the ceiling. The pair quickly went into action, stepping further apart and baring their weapons fully with the intent to kill.

A sibilant hiss filled the air, like gallons of water thrown wide onto a street sized griddle. The sound seemed to call forth strange effects from the two, though neither stopped their advance.

The man's paired blades took on an orange hue, like it had become cloaked in light reflected off of polished gold. The effect on the woman was more subtle. The air surrounding her shimmered before twisting and bending to form a sort of barrier around her body. As she continued to slowly advance, her steps took her off the floor, stepping upwards like there was a staircase only she could see.

"Don't think a little fire is enough to scare us, viper." The woman said from on high. "You cannot threaten the-" 

Suddenly, the soft white snapped back into place all at once, the song raging in his mind with enough force to cause his consciousness to reel back. 

The sudden submergence stripped the muffling white of the comfort it had provided before. Now it was a suffocating thing, a mountain of snow he'd been laying on now laying on top of him, crushing his lungs.

He no longer felt the river either. Instead he could feel legs moving beneath him, arms swinging at his sides, and a heart hammering in his chest. All of those were his, he knew. Both the limbs and the sensations within them. 

His legs felt like they were stumbling, barely scrapping over a surface that reminded him of a drying river bed. Uneaven, yet slick. 

The song became a screeching jumble, all semblance of it's musicality coming apart at the seems. 

A lancing pain in his skull, sharp and crippling, cut the song and the white void away from him completely. 

He didn't have any time to appreciate the fact that for the first time he couldn't hear the song playing in his ears, as a solid wall of water was rushing towards him. Or he was rushing towards it, he couldn't tell. The moment before he hit the water, a reflection crystalized in front of his eyes. 

His reflection, showing him his own face. His face, but the eyes were wrong. Somehow he just new that wasn't right. The iris was just white, pure and stark enough to be reflected back at him brighter than any other part of his face, and making the rest of his features dim in comparison. The eyes, the eyes, not what they should be.

It was a relief that the water felt like solid stone as he struck it, knocking his whole world black.