I ran through a series of expressions, testing the flexibility of the matoria. It was light and easily manipulated by my facial muscles, but the mask itself did not easily vary from the intense scowl with which it was forged. I opened and closed my mouth, tasting the strange newness of the vocal orifice, feeling the mask warm to my body temperature and settle around my head in a natural grip, like a vice fit perfectly to my skull.

I walked out then, without looking back. There was no purpose. I would never see this dwelling again; I took nothing with me. All I had left were my memories, and even those, like the coloration of my armor, would fade over time.