Arcane Firelights Masks Novels & Stories

Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, lay the Mask of Fortuna. My breath hitched in my throat as I gazed upon it. The mask was an eerie thing of beauty, crafted from polished obsidian that gleamed under the dim light, its surface sleek and reflective. It was as if it had been pulled straight from the depths of some ancient world. Crimson rubies and emerald sapphires adorned it, set delicately in gold filigree, their fiery hues sparkling as I leaned closer. The intricate Roman symbols etched along its edges seemed to pulse with some forgotten power—laurel wreaths and the ever-turning wheel of Fortuna, as if the mask itself held the whims of fate in its design.

Maven said. “Do you have pictures or anything?” Aurelian asked. “Yes, a few of the pack members sent pictures,” he said, taking another file. He dropped it on the table, and we gathered it. Maven and I gasp. “Goddess,” Felix said. The pictures are terrible; I can’t even recognise the person. Their eyes are pure white, and their skin is black. Then, with red veins all over their bodies, they look hideous. “What is this?” I asked.

Upon the bonfire the five mysterious figures were spotted, the fifth one sat on the shoulder of the biggest figure among the five just as strong wind blew across the village. The flames from the bonfire beacons on the five mysterious figures under the cloudy night, cladded in white robes and masks on their face, having a rune engraved on each of their mask except the one seating on the shoulder; The whole face was wrapped exposing only dried mouth and eyes. Making one wondered, how in the world were they standing in the large prepared fire without getting themselves inflamed?!

Think you'll have the dignity to walk this earth? Ruby crumpled to the floor, her complexion ghostly pale. She then realized she had been dancing on a stage set straight to hell since her affair began. I had been holding the ultimate weapon to shatter her life all along. The tenderness she had seen? Nothing but a lure. Her little performance, her schemes–they were nothing against the hard evidence and my steely resolve. Her eyes met mine, a journey from pleading to despair, then spiraling down into a deep, icy fear, and finally twisting into a look of pure venom.

I do not want to lose my only family. Kinuha ni Nanay ang pot holder na nakalapag sa isang mesa bago buksan ang bagong lutong pagkain. The smoke from the newly stewed pork mounted and spreading on to the high ceiling. Iwinasiwas ko ang kamay para alisin ang usok na tumatakip sa paningin. Nanay was wearing a mask to keep herself from being exposed in too much smoke.

Beside it lay a mask—a plain, featureless white porcelain half-mask that covered the eyes and nose, devoid of glitter, feathers, or expression. "It looks like a shroud," Aria whispered, picking up the heavy velvet. "It’s a Domino," Cassandra corrected, applying a layer of gold shimmer to her collarbones. "Very Venetian. Very mysterious. And most importantly, it blends in with the drapes." She turned from the mirror, her eyes critical and cold. "Tonight is my twenty-ninth birthday, Aria. It is a Masquerade. The theme is 'Gilded Age Decadence.' I am the Queen. Damian is the King. And you..." She gestured vaguely at the gray heap. "You are the shadow."

Their alcohol levels were high as well, and Clara was careful to sip at it slowly, although the addictive taste and aroma seduced her to have more. In addition to that, the instructions had stated that everyone was to wear a ball mask, which both the patrons, performers and servers adhered to. She had chosen a black masquerade mask made with flirty lace material to conceal a good part of her face, leaving only her lips and the lower part of her pointed nose bare. Her green eyes shone like those of a cat under the dark lights, attracting different heads which turned to her direction.

My fingers shook a little as I opened the file. Inside was a mask. A sexy black mask made of soft lace and shiny silk. It would cover the eyes and upper face but leave the mouth and jaw free. Delicate black lace patterns swirled around the eye holes like dark flowers. Small shiny crystals sparkled at the edges under the street light. Thin black ribbons waited to tie at the back of the head. It looked mysterious and dangerous. The kind of mask strippers wore when they wanted to hide their identity but show everything else.

"Do you take this woman to be your wife, to stand by her through thick and thin?" "I do," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. The guests whispered in awe. Howard Larson, the Larson family's big shot, was so in love with me that he would not let a bad cold stop our big day. He did not want to disappoint me. "Wait a second." The man's eyes darted around, and his forehead was dotted with sweat. I smiled and asked, "Howard, you're looking a bit pale. Too busy with the wedding to remember your medicine?"

I said, turning and stopping in awe. Lucy's mask was a sterling silver with workings of tiny glass beads and lace hanging from it, so that it covered her eyes and her mouth. "Both masks are beautiful!"