A mausoleum for creatures long since dead, their small skulls like grisly theatre masks stare outward, unmoving. Their eyes, hollow sockets cast in shadow. Their mouths, toothless yet sharp, like pincers of bone. They are quite smooth, though dulled by the long years that they’ve remained in these catacombs untouched. When the firelight finally dispels the darkness, dust lines the crevices in a fine layer. Or perhaps it’s the skulls themselves that are turning to dust, slowly crumbling under the weight of the years.