ObservationThe False Hand
Power, Illusion, Choice
Above the Masquerade, he swings calm, untouchable. Below, they reach, believing he holds what they need. He drops hearts like trinkets.
But he is no god. He does not create, only decides who receives.
The Tree gives freely, yet none reach for it. They mistake his hand for generosity, never questioning the source.
If all hearts come from above, none are truly their own.
Perhaps the Luminate Mask belongs not to the blind, but to the one who changes the game.0.1639%
