Death Eater Mask Snape Novels & Stories

It was a scent that represented the noble and rich. At this moment, a tall, thin man was sitting on a burgundy rosewood sofa while drinking tea. There was a complete set of tea-making utensils on the burgundy rosewood coffee table. A silver mask covered the upper half of the man’s face, revealing only the lower half of his face. His chin was pointed, his neck was long, and his skin was tragically white. There was a striking, dark red scar on his neck. It looked as if someone had slashed him on the neck.

Seraphina breathed, a spark of her old venom returning. "No," Evelyne whispered, leaning in. "I’m the woman you created. Now, get out before I decide that the attic is too good for you." Seraphina fled, her sobs echoing down the hallway. Evelyne turned back to her mirror. She picked up her mask, a delicate piece of silver filigree shaped like a fox, encrusted with small, dark diamonds. It obscured the top half of her face, leaving only her lips and her sharp, determined jaw visible.

"Grab the blades, Elara! Now!" I lunged for the daggers, my fingers closing around the cold hilts just as a figure materialized from the darkness near the wardrobe. It wasn't a wolf. It was a man cloaked in tattered grey robes, his face hidden by a mask of bone. An assassin of the Coven. He didn't speak. He moved with a terrifying, fluid speed, a vial of shimmering purple vapor in his hand—the same symbol I had seen dissipating over the Inquisitor's body.

Not a question so much as a venom-coated string of words. He glanced at the end of the table, where my empty chair stood. “And the summons found the girl responsible.” The golden-masked one gave a low, bitter laugh and pointed at me. “The Treaty’s magic brought me right to her doorstep.” The stranger whirled with fluid grace. His mask was bronze and fashioned after a wolf’s features, concealing all but the lower half of his face— along with most of what looked like a wicked, slashing scar from his brow down to his jaw.

“Power demands sacrifice. You’re too soft.” Kaelia’s voice cracked, half spite, half sorrow. “You’ll answer to me first.” Before Thea could retort, the masked envoy at Ryker’s back snarled, a sudden shift in tone, voice deeper and mocking. He ripped off his hood to reveal pale, hollow eyes. “I serve no sister, sister,” he intoned. “I serve Death Incarnate herself.” Selene frowned. “You lied about your allegiance.” He tilted his head, revealing a lattice of scars shaping Iris’s sigil on his scalp. “All lies to draw you here. Now the true ceremony begins.”

For him. Lucien Vaelthorn. The Deathmask Prince. Alpha of the Crimson Shade. A name spoken in courtly tones and war camps alike, always with a touch of unease. Cloaked in darkness lined with crimson, he strode like a dirge incarnate. His presence was magnetic, his aura the taste of lightning before the storm. One eye gold, one obsidian. Both inescapable. He didn’t walk toward her. He stalked. “Elara Duskbane,” he said, each syllable dripping in velvet, veiling something sharp. “I’ve waited a long time to see if you were more than a rumor.”

Slytherin Pack might be weak, but the Leidea family was still the head of it—Alpha Jonathan Leidea ruled here, Anne’s father. But their power didn’t mean strength. Everyone also knew Slytherin Pack had been barely holding on, surrounded by stronger packs waiting for a chance to swallow them whole. That fact alone annoyed me even more. And then I saw him. A man lurking near the gate. He was dressed in black—jacket, mask, gloves. The kind of clothes meant to blend with the night. But I saw the tattoo on his hand when he moved. Fantom Pack. An assassin. I narrowed my eyes, watching silently from the shadows.

A soft clear laughter floated into the room and the trio blinkef in a daze as the figure came into view, dressed in a grey robe with a golden mask on her face was Daera, the leader of the undead. " D.daera..D.daera" Royal mumbled incoherently. The figure shook her head. " Wrong guess, ex-brother" Ex-brother? Thier heart raced in fear as the figure slowly took off her mask and it was the last face they expected to see. " O. Olivia"

The elder gasped, feeling air cut off from his lungs. “Y-yes my Lord.” As they squabbled about the details, I observed the corpses even more. I would have missed it; just a slight blink and I would have never seen it. A slight green ooze from their mouths; a familiar one. Cold shot up my back as I realized. I wasn't sure if it was a draft or something else. Slowly, I turned my back. At the very end of the hall, stood a dark, masked figure. Axel: the Serpent.

​Nora plummeted into the golden chute. ​She landed on a pile of discarded pages. It was dark, cold, and smelled of wet ink. She looked up and saw a small, silver-haired figure sitting in the corner, holding a tiny, wooden flute. ​But as she reached for Leo, a new shadow fell over them. ​It wasn't Julian. It wasn't Kael. ​It was a man in a tattered tuxedo, his face half-hidden by a silver mask. He looked exactly like the Elder Vane, but younger, stronger, and holding a "Deletion-Blade" made of pure, white static.