The Daily EleMental

“When the plague of the air fell upon the lands, two priestesses rose from the velvet halls of illusion. One bore the chalice of emotion, the other the scroll of command.”
— The Chronicle of the Masked Years

In the Years of the Great Spell, when reason was gagged and children wore talismans of cloth over their mouths, there rose from the stage-light fog two high priestesses of the New Kindness.

Lady O, Sovereign of Suffering-as-Brand™, held court upon the sacred sofa. From her throne of golden tissues, she summoned tears for the cameras and slogans for the soul. She wept for struggles she never endured and beamed with the glow of a thousand ring lights.

“You are seen,” she said—except for those she refused to platform.

Beside her danced Jacindraline, the Giggling Sorceress of the South. With the manic energy of a child discovering the nuclear codes, she laughed her way through lockdowns. Her words were velvet, but her laws were iron.

“You mustn’t speak to your neighbours,” she chirped. “We are your single source of truth.”

The people clapped. The birds did not return. Grandmothers died in rooms without hands to hold them.

Together they were the Sisterhood of the Smiling Mask—disciples of Empathy Theater, architects of the Curtain of Control. Their commandments were simple:

• Be Kind (to authority).
• Be Safe (by obeying).
• Be Seen (but not heard).

Through spells of soft tyranny they wove a new reality, enforced not with swords but with slogans. “Together Apart.” “Safe is the New Free.” “Clean hands, dirty looks.”

And those who questioned—who remembered the old songs of liberty—were cast into the outer darkness, where shadowy figures like Ian of the North and Abi the Red Dragon howled truths to an audience too masked to listen.

But time, that great breaker of illusions, marched on.

The plague receded. The winds changed. The theatre collapsed.

And now… the Sisterhood returns.

They rise once more—not as repentant guides, but as shrieking ghosts of the Pandemic Age, floating across Netflix screens and UN stages, cloaked in the same shimmering robes, smiling as though nothing had happened.

“We meant well,” they purr.
“No one could have known,” they squeal.
“Be kind,” they hiss—
as if kindness undoes cruelty.

They pose for cameras while the masked children draw sad suns in chalk. They sip from crystal glasses while the small businesses lie in ruin. They film empowerment specials while the wounded whisper alone in vaccine injury forums.

They pretend the years of exile and shame, of coercion and segregation, of forced silence and cheerful tyranny… were just a phase.

But the eyes of the Watchers remain.
And memory—true memory—is an elemental force that no Netflix deal can erase.

🔷 Elemental Balance of This Article

“The Sisterhood of the Smiling Mask”

Air (Narrative, Speech, Spellcraft, Control): 40%
Fire (Will, Authority, Enforcement Through Slogans): 25%
Water (Emotion, Empathy Theatre, Guilt): 25%
Earth (Physical Consequences, Isolation, Real Harm): 10%

Dominant Element: Air, supported by Fire and Water

This piece is a poetic reckoning with the warped Air of the COVID era—language used as spell, narrative as leash. Fire is present in the zealous enforcement masked in smiles, while Water—supposed empathy—was manipulated into a tool of coercion. Earth, the real-world toll (deaths, ruined lives, closed shops), remains just beneath the surface, like a mass grave too painful to unearth fully. This is an Air-dominant myth, with the sting of corrupted truth echoing throughout.

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🜁 Filed under: Air (Spellcraft), Fire (Zealotry), Water (Emotional Alchemy), Earth (Silent Suffering)
🜂 Key Figures: The Velvet Empress (Oprah), The Giggling Sorceress (Jacinda)
🜃 Next: Return of the Velvet Priestesses – The Great Rebranding of the Pandemic Priests