Arcane Firelights Masks Novels & Stories

the old lady retorted again, “maybe if you get married, you will feel better. You haven’t been yourself and i don’t like it” “I don’t need to get married mum” Rebecca blurted after a while, “I am perfectly fine and I don’t need any man to take care of me. I am just stressed about the party and that’s all, I will be fine after taking some rest so stop talking about getting married now, mum. I am actually not thinking about that, that is obviously the last thing on my mind”

I command, waving toward the red-hot poker glowing in the coals. Marcello barely registers the words before the poker is pressed against his mangled hand. His scream is deafening, his body convulsing as the smell of burning flesh fills the room. “Why is that bastard Ghost always in our business?” my father sneers, his glare fixed on Marcello. Marcello lifts his head weakly, his gaze filled with defiance, but he says nothing. My father’s scowl deepens. Grabbing the poker, I step forward. Marcello’s eyes widen, his body instinctively recoiling despite the restraints.

She twirled and the red glowed in the candlelight. “I do,” Izzy said, entranced by the look of the skirt. Her mask was made of blood red, Susanna’s was blue, and Izzy’s was a deep, forest green. They tied their masks onto their face and turned to leave. Nate, Logan, and Seth were waiting in the hall, they had been talking with several of the Kreil warriors when the girls finally opened the door to descend to the great hall and the ball. Nate turned with a start, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

Trent promised he'd take care of our transportation, to and fro. Tonight, I'm in a red, off shoulder, lace ball gown, which has an open back and from the way this dress makes my waist look tiny, I can tell men will be falling at my feet tonight. I also got myself a gold side butterfly Venetian mask that has red glitters and jewels. Roxy is in a black halter tulle ball gown, with an open back too, and her mask is a black Monsoon peacock Venetian Swarovski crystal one. Wren and Maeve both are in off shoulder ball gowns, with Wren's being as green as her beautiful eyes, and an emerald green and gold Venetian feather mask and Maeve's, a mixture of peach-gold and silver with a gold Venetian mask

"They are all well-toned and have a bra size of at least DD. A dozen ladies are available for fantasy play, as well as more than twenty males." Mrs. Hartley pushed away from the desk and walked behind it, opening a drawer in an armoire that stood there, and removing two thick, cashmere robes and matching pink and blue masks. The masks looked like sleep masks, but they had eye holes cut out and stitched in the center. "We have multiple safe guards in order to protect the identities of our members. This mask is required by all visitors and is to be worn in all public areas of the spa. You may remove it while alone in a fantasy room with one of our employees, but that decision is yours."

The night parties were always general, wasn’t meant for certain people and whatever expenses one made there, wasn’t inclusive in their already settled business. The moment of preparation for the party was so personal to Bruno and Enola as if they were planning to show off some stuffs. They had nice fabrics on them, Bruno who always loved appearing cooperate wore a lovely suit, a tinted black suit with his Scottish shoe. That time, he didn’t wear his usual mirror shoe, Scottish got him covered. The properly aligned haircut he had recently before the commencement of the reunion and the exotic perfume he was wearing made him look lovely and stylish. Enola who on her own knew how to appear quite

FIVE WEEKS EARLIER... The dressing room at Eclipse smelled like expensive perfume, cheap hairspray, and desperation. Eve stared at her reflection in the mirror, studying the stranger looking back at her. Heavy makeup transformed her face...smoky eyes rimmed with glitter, lips painted deep crimson, cheekbones contoured into sharp angles. The silver mask rested on the counter beside her, intricate filigree catching the harsh fluorescent light. Her armor. Her anonymity. Her salvation. "You're on in ten," Maya called from across the room, her best friend's voice cutting through the general chaos of women preparing for the night shift. "You okay? You look pale under all that war paint."

And Amara sat in front of a full-length mirror, staring at the red satin dress laid across her bed. It was stunning. And terrifying. Backless. High-slit. The color of spilled blood. Bianca entered carrying a black velvet box. “Your mask.” Amara opened it. Inside was a delicate creation of black lace and thin onyx stones, shaped like wings. “You’ll wear this,” Bianca said. “And you’ll smile. Even when your bones scream.” “And what if I don’t?” Amara asked, looking at her reflection. Bianca stared at her.