Arcane Firelights Masks Novels & Stories

Maya retorted, folding her hands under her breast. "Good, I think we can work with that, even if you're both being extremely brute with your words," Becca said, frowning. "First of all, you should cover your faces," Becca handed each of us a mask. It was made like the face of an animal. Maya's face was a leopard, Naya's face was a hyena, Becca's face was a rabbit and my face was a deer. "Why do I get to wear a deer? Why not a Lion?" I frowned, wearing the mask.

Her lips brushed his cheek, her breath warm against his skin, her body leaning into him, the heat of the fire mingling with the heat of their connection, the grove a sanctuary, their bond a radiant flame. Mara sat on a woven mat near the fire, her cropped black hair ruffled by the breeze, strands catching the sunlight, her brown eyes bright with mischief, her dark green tunic embroidered with silver threads, her flame pendant hanging around her neck, the wooden bead cord on her wrist gleaming in the firelight, her skin flushed from the heat, the firelight dancing on her face, the grove a sanctuary, the warmth a shared legacy. Ember, her wolf, lounged beside her, her russet fur shimmering in

Victor stood beside the first as Maria approached him with a velvet box. "Your mask," she said, opening it to reveal an intricately crafted piece. "Custom made, as you requested." Victor took it without comment, examining the half-mask of burnished gold and obsidian. It was crafted to resemble a death's head—not garish or Halloween-like, but subtle and elegant, with empty eyes that would reveal nothing of the man beneath. "Perfect," he finally said, his voice low. "Victor," Maria began, hesitating. "Are you sure about tonight? We could still—"

she exhaled sharply and bowed stiffly, “I’m glad I got to know you all. Would you mind telling Ryle and Kaine the same thing when they return?” The ground beneath their feet quaked and a bright light erupted from the top of the hill. The woman in the olive-green dress disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the shattered remains of the mask on the sand beneath her feet. Arianne wrapped her arms around Éclair as her friend sobbed hard against her chest, burdened by the weight of her decision. Marielle sat on the sand, her eyes fixed on the mask. Xena sidled up next to her, hugging her knees close to her chest.

The Masquerade mask was Harriet's special mask, a white snake mask with one eye hole on the right side. "Actually, this is my mother's mask," said Harriet quietly. She then smiled and held up another mask box. Harriet showed it to Liam who was still furrowing his brows at her previous words and opened the box. Another white mask appeared in their vision. It was a white wolf mask with golden stripes around its eyes. Harriet smiled proudly showing the mask design. It was the one she ordered yesterday, which turned out to be perfect and ready at just the right time. "This is for me?" Liam asked.

Masked Moonlight Addiction PART I The Masked Moon Ball pulsed like a living heartbeat. Crystal chandeliers dripped silver light over the grand hall of Lunar Academy, and every student, professor, and staff member wore the same enchanted silver masks. No faces could be seen, no names told. Only scent, touch, and instinct. Aria adjusted her mask, the cool metal pressing against her cheeks. Her simple black gown clung to her curves, and for the first time in years, she hadn’t taken her suppressants. “Just one night of not hiding,” she whispered to herself, heart racing.

Every so often, one of them looked toward Kain and looked away again just as quickly. The servers down here weren’t dressed like the ones above. They wore masks of their own, ornate and feathered, with ribbons tied around their throats. One woman’s mask was shaped like a fox, her dress split to her hip; another had her chest wrapped in gold wire and nothing else. They carried trays of champagne, glasses that caught the lamplight like liquid fire. Luca tried to look anywhere else. “Wh–why’s ev–everyone st–staring?”

Firelight. They crept forward until the trees parted and revealed a small clearing. In the center was a makeshift circle of stones, and at its heart… Marla Greene. She knelt before a fire that burned with no wood — just floating embers suspended in the air, casting no shadows. She was humming. Her back was to them. “Marla?” Emily called softly. The humming stopped. Marla stood slowly and turned. She was smiling. But her eyes were wrong — completely black, with no whites, no irises. Just pits. Her hair floated slightly, as if underwater. Her skin shimmered with a thin sheen of dew, as if the forest itself breathed through her.

It shimmered under the harsh backstage lights, highlighting every curve and plane of my body, amplifying my vulnerability. As a small, desperate act of defiance, a fragile attempt to cling to some semblance of anonymity in this degrading spectacle, I carefully positioned a delicate black lace mask, its intricate pattern obscuring the upper half of my face, hiding my eyes from the hungry gazes I knew awaited me. It was a flimsy shield, but it was all I had.

I find myself standing in the doorway of the room where we talked cwhere I told him the truth, where he looked at me like staying was a miracle. I sit on the edge of the bed. Breathe. “Idiot,” I mutter softly. “You really did it this time.” I pull my Institute ID from my pocket. Black. Polished. My name etched clean and sharp. MATTEO ALVAREZ CLEARANCE: OMEGA-RED It hums faintly in my hand. A tether. I stare at it for a long time. Then I flick my lighter open. The plastic warps first. The metal follows, blackening, curling. The name disappears in the flames.