Broken Masquerade Wow Novels & Stories

Not naturally, but with the pulse of supernatural energy—vampires exhaling hunger, werewolves suppressing instinct, warlocks cloaking their power in perfume and lace. I had attended these gatherings enough to know the game: smile, bow, drink, and pretend the person you’re toasting with didn’t try to kill you last season. The annual Masquerade of Clans was supposed to be neutral ground. A single night when enemies could breathe the same air without bloodshed. But neutrality was a fantasy. There was no such thing as peace among monsters. Leo walked beside me, his mask—a simple black one with sharp edges—barely hiding his unease. He tugged at the collar of his suit like it was strangling him.