Each Prismatic Daimon Mask is a psychedelic apparition: a radiant face framed by blossoms of neon fire. Electric blues melt into ultraviolet violets; emeralds detonate into incandescent golds. Eyes pierce the void behind every visage, inviting and unsettling in a single glance. Gathered together, the masks form a cracked stained‑glass window onto the collective psyche, a rogue pantheon where goddess, monster, trickster, and oracle coexist in shimmering equilibrium, asking the viewer to finish their half‑spoken myth.