Mirror One: The Mask and the Lion
A Parable by The New Noble
There was once a traveler who arrived at the gates of an ancient city, built upon seven hills. The stones whispered stories older than kings, and the wind carried the scent of dust and prophecy.
In the marketplace, the traveler saw a mask — gold, weathered, its eyes empty yet full. The merchant said nothing, only placed it in the traveler’s hands. It was heavier than it looked.
That night, the traveler dreamt of a lion walking beside a young warrior. The warrior bore no crown, yet the mountains bowed to his stride. The lion’s mane glowed like a sunset, and its eyes pierced through shadow and time.
“Why do you hide your face?” the lion asked.
The traveler touched their cheek. It was not their own skin they felt, but the cold, still metal of the mask.
The lion said: “The mask is not your enemy. It is the story you’ve been told about who you are.”
When the traveler woke, dawn spilled over the rooftops like liquid gold. They lifted the mask and looked inside. There was no face, only a reflection — soft, uncertain, and alive.
The traveler understood: To awaken was not to discard the mask, but to see beyond it. The lion walked with them still.

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