Shen Wei's serious eyes travel from one cheek to the other, and then to the last word, the one not terribly obscured by blood despite Ye Zun's obvious efforts. "I thought it might be their idea of a welcome gift when I felt my own," he admits.

It seems it's been done to all of them, but why? Why have the gods done this? Shen Wei has had very little time in their presence, but none had struck him as the type to command through fear and humiliation. He lifts his hand, thumbing away the drying blood on his brother's face, feeling a frisson of anger as he does so.

"Mine is hidden beneath my shirt," he says, lifting the mask between them. It's only fair if Ye Zun wishes to hide his. "I think they must represent our worst thoughts of ourselves," he says, gaze again drifting to the scratched word. Monster.