The ancient mask rested vacant in the dust of the forgotten temple. For thousands of years, it had guarded the face of a powerful being, a craftsman, a forger of masks. For what had seemed like an eternity it had kept the spark of life burning within the mask maker. For a time the mask had preserved the most important being on the island. But now it was just an artifact among rubble, a reminder of a battle that ended a long time ago.
Came here expecting Deep Space Nine.
Not 100% sure exactly what I got, but it was cool!
Since this is so short and kind of “meditative,” if that makes sense, I think it might be interesting if you rewrote it as a poem. That might give it a little extra poignancy.
It was inspired by seeing Ekimu’s protector mask lying on the floor, if that helps you understand it.