The steps come closer, in a slow, menacing rhythm. Your eyes catch something lying on the ground: a wooden mask, painted with tribal patterns. You feel a whisper. 'Wear it, and he can't see you'. Driven by your instinct you put it on. It feel soft on your skin, with the feint scent of rosewood. Then the door crashes open. A man enters. He looks like a ghost. His eyes burn red and narrowed. His skin is pale and wrinkled. His voice is a rattle: I know you are here...you can't hide from me
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