Blank Featureless Mask Novels & Stories

It is more beautiful than anything I have ever dared to imagine in my most secret dreams. Suddenly, a crystalline chime sounds nearby, like the gentle ringing of glass, and before me, a mask appears, hovering as if held by invisible hands, settling gently into my palms. The mask is pale and delicate, kissed by moonlight, its surface etched with swirling patterns that mimic the frost creeping across a windowpane on a cold winter’s night. I lift it and press it to my face, feeling it mold perfectly to my features as if it was made just for me.

Or rather, I looked at the mask. White porcelain, hand painted with delicate little flowers along one edge, covering everything from my forehead to just below my nose. My eyes peered out from behind it, brown and ordinary, and my mouth was visible below it, which meant I could eat and drink without taking the whole thing off, a design feature I'd insisted on when I'd had it made five years ago. The scars underneath were bad, I knew that. The fire had taken most of the skin on the left side of my face and left behind this angry, twisted landscape that made people flinch when they saw it. The mask was easier. For everyone.

And my soul? Yeah, it tried to run away. This… thing… was tall. Nightmare tall. Slim like a shadow, someone stretched too far. Moving like smoke pretending to be a person. A mask covered its face—smooth, blank, empty. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. Just darkness shaped into a face. Its steps made no sound. Its presence made the air colder than my ex’s heart. Goosebumps attacked my skin, but I tried to stand strong. “Don’t look at the mask,” Cullen’s mother whispered.

The one he offered me was elegant rather than stark, shaped in deep charcoal silk edged with fine silver thread. “Let me do it,” he whispered, taking the mask from me. He lifted the mask and settled it carefully over my eyes, securing the ribbon at the back of my head with steady fingers. When he was done he fixed his own mask. His mask was simpler, matte black, and once it covered the upper half of his face the familiar lines of his expression became something sharper and less readable.

Frost is afraid of the dark, but as a doctor, he knows that only in a completely dark environment can there be high-quality sleep. To be able to stand in front of the operating table all day with full energy the next day, he custom-made a black gold eye mask for himself. This black gold eye mask is more expensive than gold, expensive in this black pigment. This is the blackest black in the world, it can achieve 100% non-reflective, wherever it is placed, it is like a black hole.

CHAPTER 65 ~THE GARDEN OF THE SUN-MASKED~ The Hollow Men did not return to the Vale. But they did not vanish. In the weeks following the Festival of the First Note, reports trickled in from the Silver Road. They were seen, still wearing their masks, but the masks were no longer blank. They were painted. Faint, tentative, often childlike: a wobbly green line for a stalk, a cluster of dots for stars, a clumsy spiral.

"Do I really have to wear this?" Ivy asked, staring at the mask in her hand—a sleek piece made of deep black velvet, its shape narrowing at the corners to elegantly frame her features. There were no gaudy feathers, no over-the-top embellishments. Just a single satin ribbon meant to be tied at the back. Simple, but striking in its elegance. Mysterious. Alluring. “Does everyone have to wear masks to a MaC banquet?” Ivy raised one brow, glancing at Josh, who sat beside her, perfectly relaxed in the backseat of the car.

Lex perused the masquerade, feeling somewhat elated by the fact that he was indistinguishable. He adjusted his white and gold mask that covered his entire forehead but extended only to half of his face. The overall colour was white with an acrylic effect. The gold highlighted the eyelids and accentuated the mask.

Cassy says, now looking straight at me, “this seemed fairer.” She rummages through the crate and presses something black into my hands. I look down. A black lace mask, light and delicate, covering only the area around the eyes. The open pattern consists of elegant, curved lines spreading out symmetrically. The edges are uneven and decorative, refined and barely noticeable. When I look up again, Cassy is holding up another mask. Also black, but made of sturdier material. Smooth, sleek, without decoration. The eye openings are sharply defined, the edges clean. The surface catches the light with a soft sheen.

A majestic and ruthless cold aura exudes from him, giving one the urge to subconsciously bow to him. On the man’s face was a sleek and metallic cold, black mask that had intricate, sharp, fierce yet minimalistic designs that made it seem as if it wanted to come alive. The mask's eye cutouts are sharp, revealing the man's piercing, deep, and frigid blue eyes. The mask edges were sharp and precise, enhancing the man's intimidation, majesty, coldness, and ruthlessness.