The Faceless

I let my eyes wander on the ivory-hued page, the color a proof of its age. It took a while for me to fully read the words that were written on the paper, my excitement was making it hard to focus. At last, my eyes focused on the ink. The black letters stand out on the aged page.

“If this works. If my project is to be successful, there are a few consequences I will have to carry. First, the grief of their parents. Second, my guilt (?) Or that is what I should feel, what anyone would expect me to feel but I can hardly imagine it. Third, there is a possible rise of nonbelievers. Perhaps I should have written a warning to myself. My future self. But to what end? I cannot travel in time and if I could, I would probably see myself laughing at any warning I could give myself. But, if I so happen to look through these pages to look over my entries, I do have a warning. Do not gloat, do not rest because of success. There is a long way ahead of us still, perfect it. If you do the opposite, you will regret giving up on everything we have worked for. Everything —Everyone— we have sacrificed.”

I must admit, I was right. This whole paragraph seems laughable to me now. Gloat? Rest? Give up? No. I cannot. Not when I finally got the result I had hoped for. Now I just need to think bigger, about how to get more of them in instead of just one.

You see, the world I live in is close to not being a world anymore. At least not with us around. We struggle with food, water is long forgotten. Blood is the new water they said. Cheesy. I cannot be bothered much with such matters, I am way too focused on my project.

What project, you ask? Simple. The less people there are, the more food and other resources we have. I have decided to take matters into my own hands since nobody else was courageous enough to do so. Despite our struggles, people will not stop procreating. There are more and more children every year which only further deepens our problems. But will anyone address that? No. I myself am fortunate enough to lack the ability to bear children. A relief. Perhaps it is why I can see the issue and address it, unlike the others.

I decided to call it “Cleansing.” Of course, it is called differently in the language I used originally but I know more than well that most people wouldn’t even comprehend the beauty of it.

As for what the purpose of the Cleansing is. I am the Elder, someone like a prophet if I was to explain it simply. In short, people believe whatever I say as they think I speak for the Gods. Amusing. They didn’t think for a second that I could make anything up at any given chance. And well, that is precisely what I did.

A few years ago, I told them that there was a savior to come to our aid. The said savior should be born among us. I do not remember what the name of the savior was but I don’t need to. I hear it almost daily. One would think that will make me remember it but no, my mind is focused on more important matters.

The Cleansing is a ceremony for others. The chance to be chosen to participate is an honor to them. They do not know its true purpose. They view it as a search for their savior but there is none. Except for me. Even if they don’t see it now, one day they will.

In the “ceremony” I have the ones who were chosen to step forward one by one. How do I choose? Mostly, it is random but at times I just pick the ones I deem the weakest, easier to get rid of. Oh, and they are all children of course. Not even eighteen years of age.

All children then stand in a pool of the crimson liquid that matches the one in your veins. They say a phrase that I made up when talking about the savior and they wait. Wait to see if they are the one.

The true thing they are waiting for, however, is death. I tinkered with the pool and its contents but it never worked the way I intended. It has not worked at all. Not until now. Not until today.

Poor girl, she seemed genuinely delighted. Might have been sixteen at best.

The savior, she thought she was. But she was so much more. She was my first success. The proof of it at least. However, seeing her body get eaten alive by the acid-like liquid has been more chilling than I had anticipated. I wonder if her skeleton is still there.

Regardless, now that I have seen it work, I can try making the whole thing bigger.

Of course, it will be more challenging to convince people to do what I expect of them and step into the pool but I have never asked before. And I am not planning on starting now. They will be chained if it will be needed. I care little for their comfort.

Speaking of comfort, my guard has been sitting on the armchair across from me the whole time. There’s a book in his hands, his leg thrown over the other, but I can tell he is doing anything but reading. The whole time I have been writing in my journal he has been watching me.

He might think I didn’t notice but I always do. I don’t know what exactly he hopes to achieve. Always stealing glances at me, following my every step. He is my guard and I suppose he is good at his job but I would sooner be found dead than say that to him. Or admit it out loud. He’s cocky enough as it is.

Perhaps it’s because he’s the only one to know what my face looks like? Or just the fact that only he knows my true name? Showing my face to him without the bronze mask might’ve been one of my mistakes.

As for the name, it simply annoys me when he uses it. I am the Elder, The Faceless. Yet he goes and calls me “Mirana.” I have a suspicion he calls me that just to get a raise out of me and I hate to say that it does work most of the time.

When it comes to his name, I usually mess it up. Not that I do it on purpose, it’s simply to lower that confidence of his. He could give out some and still be left with more than enough. Annoying. But I cannot say that I don’t appreciate his presence from time to time.

“We both know you’re no longer focused on your little journal, Mira,” Xantheus interrupted my thoughts, “You can just look at me you know. Share your excitement with me maybe?”

There it was. That smirk of his. I could swear his face knew no other expression.

My grip on my pen tightened, and my eyes narrowed.

“And why would I do that?” I asked as my gaze dropped to the page again.

I had nothing else to write so I just began to decorate the date I wrote earlier.

“You are writing as much as I am reading,” he said, his tone amused.

His book was put aside on the table next to him before he got up, his footsteps approaching my desk. He placed one of his hands on the top of it, leaning down slightly which made me look up at him.

“I was writing,” I argued, “The same can’t be said about you and your ‘reading.’”

He huffed, brushing my words off, “Hard to focus on reading with you around.”

My brow rose slightly at his comment. His poor attempts at what he might consider flirting never amused me. I didn’t have time for them but he seemed to have all the time in the world when it came to that.

“Don’t look at me like that, it might encourage me,” he said, the smirk on his lips still.

I let go of my pen, taking his chin between my index finger and thumb, tilting his head a bit, “You should watch yourself. Just because you have certain privileges doesn’t mean I would hesitate to replace you. Rather the opposite. It’s way more tempting.”

His smirk faltered, his eyes had an almost panicked glimpse in them before he composed himself again. He leaned closer to me, both his hands on the desk, his nose almost touched mine but I didn’t budge and kept my grip firm. Even tightening it a bit but he didn’t react.

“You would miss me,” his smirk returned.

I leaned closer, my lips next to his ear. “Wishful thinking,” I said softly before letting go of him and getting up. Closing my journal as I did so.

A low chuckle came from him as he straightened up and ran his hand through his hair.

“So then,” he started, “What is the plan for our Faceless?”

I hummed, my hand lingering on the journal, “I have a few ideas. Too complex for you to understand I’m afraid.”

“Ouch,” he placed his hand over his heart in feigned pain.

My mind was elsewhere though, not paying him any attention for now.

“I can always just make up another prophecy. One that will explain today’s events and encourage them to follow me blindly,” I said in thought, not expecting a reply.

“Right,” he said, “And the girl’s parents?”

“No matter,” I shrugged, “If they will be of trouble, I can have someone take care of them. You would do that for me, wouldn’t you?”

I looked up from my hand, meeting his eyes. I wasn’t really asking but I wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes,” he answered, “If you needed it.”

A hum left me as I nodded, my hand leaving the journal.

“Perfect then, the rest I need to think of more,” I said, “I’m off for the night. You do… Whatever it is you do while I sleep.”

I didn’t even let him answer before walking off. I didn’t care for what he did in my absence. But even as I walked through the dark hallway, my mind wouldn’t stop swirling with possibilities. All the options I had. The open doors in front of me. Just a few more steps and I will be written in history.