The story will be told by the young and by the old, many times this night, of the nine gods in masquerade. And it seems to me, that most of these storytellers have only pieces of a greater puzzle.
The masquerade is an ancient custom, they say. They all say that. And that part is right.
It’s the one night when the gods, in disguise, walk among the mortals, they say.
We all know there’s no such things as gods. Only ancestors, some of whom knew more and better than we do, and some of whom knew less and worse.