Masks and Monsters
The ballroom glowed gold, laughter curling through the air like perfume. Masquerade nights were always the same — shallow glances, sharp smiles, and secrets tied in satin.
And yet… I couldn't breathe.
My mask itched. My gloves felt too tight. The glass in my hand too fragile.
"Three nobles in red," I thought. "Two pretending to mourn Elric. One plotting the next death."
They danced in their lies like it was tradition. Maybe it was.
I sipped my drink slowly, eyes scanning each expression, each glance held too long, each whisper too quiet. My mind spun through theories like a raven circling meat.
Why the Thorn Sigil? Why now?
Why do I remember something I never learned?
And why… his face?
The stranger. The Seer. Blue eyes that saw too much.
He haunted the edge of my mind like unfinished poetry.
I raised the glass to my lips again — and froze.
Auron.
Standing near the stairwell, dressed in black and silver, half-obscured by shadow. His eyes, unmasked, locked on me — sharp, unreadable.
Loyal. Silent. Guard. Watcher.
But tonight… he looked like something more.
Like he wanted to stop watching me.
Like he wanted to save me from something I hadn't even named yet.
I blinked.
And he looked away.
---
A tap on my shoulder. " You appear lost in thought again ."
I turned.
Iria stood beside me, wine in one hand, dagger hidden in the folds of her silk.
Honey-gold eyes narrowed. "What's going on in that cursed brain of yours?"
"I'm fine."
"Liar," she said gently. "After what happened this morning, no one's 'fine.' Not even you."
---
Flashback – Council Chamber (Earlier That Day)
The Obsidian Chamber buzzed like a hornet nest.
Twelve robed figures. One accused heir. A noble corpse.
And a liar.
Lord Halrex stepped forward, face solemn. His voice fake-humble.
"It brings me no pleasure, Council, but I must speak. The sigil found at Lord Elric's death… I've seen it once before. In a text buried in the Draven estate archives."
Cassian's lips curled. "Interesting. So you believe Selene Draven used a forbidden ritual?"
"I do not accuse," Halrex said. "I merely suggest... her proximity to these events is alarming."
Iria was seated a few rows behind me, veiled in Council black — not a voting member, but invited due to her hybrid status and position as my guard-in-training. Her fists were clenched. She always hated injustice more than silence.
But I had stayed seated.
Calm.
And when the room hushed, I rose slowly.
"Lord Halrex, you're very brave. Or very stupid."
"Excuse me?"
"To open your mouth with so little evidence. Or perhaps you're hoping my silence will confirm your tale."
I walked to the center of the circle, gloved hands behind my back.
> "Let me ask — how would a sigil from a forbidden archive be recognizable… unless you've read it yourself?"
Silence.
A beat. Then two.
He paled.
"I— It was— I—"
> "Strange," I interrupted, tone sharp as frost. "You violate the very rules you use to accuse me with. Either you've accessed illegal material… or you're lying."
Cassian shifted in his chair. The Council exchanged glances.
> "You see?" I said softly. "In a room full of predators… even truth is a mask."
---
The memory snapped like a thread as I downed the rest of my drink.
Sweet, bitter, alive.
"I need air," I muttered.
"Moonlight therapy?" Iria teased.
"Moonlight interrogation."
She followed me.
We stepped out onto the marble balcony, the night biting against our exposed shoulders, wind stirring the velvet curtains behind us.
The moon hung high — bloated, silver, watching.
My hands clenched the railing.
"Iria…" I said softly. "What if they're right to fear me?"
She leaned beside me, elbows on the edge. "Then let them. But don't ever fear yourself."
The wind howled in the distance.
And somewhere far off — I felt it again.
That presence.
That strange... knowing.
A whisper in my blood.
"You've only just begun to remember."
I straightened. Looked behind me.
No one.
But the moon's light flickered just slightly… as if something had passed between it and me.
---