Arcane Firelights Masks Novels & Stories

Zara asked, handing me the diamante covered lilac mask which had been made to match the dress. I merely nodded, moving over to a silver panel on the citadel’s exterior wall so that I could use it as a mirror. My hair and makeup had been artfully done by Ally so that I resembled a succubus as long as you didn’t look too closely, my lips a rosey red and my skin looking utterly flawless. She had even plastered fake eyelashes on me and had finished them off with a thousand strokes of mascara. I carefully placed the mask on my face, trying not to mess up the stylish curls which Ally had twisted up and pinned into place.

Marcus asked, holding out a tray. Tonight’s mask was different. It wasn't the clinical filigree I wore in the office. This one was crafted from white gold and encrusted with tiny, raw diamonds that shimmered like frozen tears. It covered the upper half of my face, leaving my lips—painted a defiant, lethal crimson—exposed. "Tonight, we don't hide, Marcus," I whispered, watching my reflection. "Tonight, we remind them that the shadows always return to claim what is theirs."

One of the fire cart-wheelers spins his flaming wheel over beside us and my eyes glue at the dancing flames with bewilderment. Honestly, I was feeling kind of suffocated with my mask one, which was one of the black numbers with black and mid-night blue feathery plumes standing out on one side of the curved edge. The black mask framed my forest green eyes perfectly which is exactly why I chose it in the first place. I could feel men’s eyes on me as I walked beside Blaze, and he noticed it too because the next thing I know, he untangles his hand from mine to snake his left arm around my waist, pulling me close to his side, as if laying his claim over me.

I wait until he slips out of sight among the hedges before I move. Up close, the clearing is almost ritual- lanterns hung from low branches, narrow paths cut between high hedges. I steel myself as I reach at the same table and the people who just gave Lucien the mask look at me expectantly, waiting and watching me. I look down at the red box on the table and in it there’s a silk red cloth with two porcelain masks inside. Black and white. Nothing else. I point to the white mask since it’s what Lucien chose and someone takes a white mask from the stack that’s probably below the table and hands it to me.

I know why he had to go west. I didn't know why he was killed until I reached the Capital. I was working at the Anvil when a man and two women came into the shop. They were coming to make a replica trophy of a mask. Jamie's Mask. It was cold, but I remembered it very well. It was the last thing I saw when he left the town. The obsidian black mesh allowed the wearer to see through even though it didn't have a mouth or nose hole. The man looked upset. I recognized him as Gerard Darcey. He was annoyed for being pulled from his work down to the Anvil to replicate this mask. He had lost the right to the original to a woman named Matilda, the warrior of lightning. She didn't look like a winner. Sh

My pulse raced with a daring anticipation, my pussy tingling with the thrill of the unknown, drawn by rumors of this night’s uninhibited pleasures—a forbidden dance I’d only fantasized about in the safety of my solitude. The crowd parted, revealing a group of five women, each adorned in elaborate masks and attire that hinted at their roles in this clandestine ritual. The leader, a tall figure with a gold mask and a flowing emerald gown, moved with a regal grace, her eyes—visible through the slits—glinting with a commanding allure. Beside her, a woman with a silver mask and a sheer black bodysuit traced the air with delicate fingers, her lithe form exuding a teasing elegance. A curvaceous wom

Each attendee is directed to select a mask from the counters, setting the stage for an evening of mystery and style. Emma, in harmony with her dress, opts for a captivating red mask adorned with a long black feather cascading down its left side. The mask, veiling almost her entire face, adds an intriguing aura, yet her distinctive emerald eyes remain an unmistakable identifier for those attempting to distinguish her amidst the masked crowd.

I muttered, leaning closer so he could hear me over the buzz of the crowd, “Reagan doesn’t even know the names of half these people.” He smirked, his gaze sweeping the room. “Everyone’s wearing a mask.” “It’s a masquerade party, I think.” I spotted a nearby table stacked with ornate masks, clearly intended for anyone who needed one. I grabbed two and turned to Blaze, holding one out to him. “Here. Let’s blend in.” I slipped my mask on—a delicate, silver piece adorned with tiny crystals—and gestured for Blaze to do the same. He took his time, studying his black and gold mask like it was some kind of alien artifact before finally putting it on.

She would find out every other thing by herself. "What about you, Elora?" Ariel asked. "I don't have any." "Then we can leave," Ariel said. They headed to the door, and Valerie stopped. "What about the mask? Shouldn't we be using them?" Ariel chuckled slightly. "I almost forgot that. We must do that. People are coming from other Packs. Everyone's identity must be kept hidden. We won't be using the other mask, though." Ariel returned to her bag and brought out three black masks. They were different from the first ones; bigger and more hideous.

Elena's POV The mask was a delicate, laser-cut piece of obsidian lace that felt like a spider clinging to my face with cold, spindly legs. It obscured my eyes, casting the world into a fractured, shadowy peripheral where every guest looked like a potential executioner. In the mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. The dress for tonight was a deep, blood-red velvet—a color of passion, or perhaps a color of warning. It was heavy, the skirt rustling with a low, ominous sound every time I moved, echoing the frantic, erratic throb of my heart.