Midnight At The Pera Palace Novels & Stories

9 years later. The Grand Hotel. Selangor, Malaysia. 8:30 pm. At a prestigious gala night party, hosted strictly for the créme de la créme of the society, Calista Bloom stood out as the center of attraction. Her stride was as elegant and majestic like a queen, yet it was fierce and unbridled like a lioness in the wild.

That thought was quickly tossed aside because if that was the case, the noises I made by kicking in a window aloud with my own cries and outburst from dressing my wounds would undoubtedly have been heard. Curled up between the two chairs with my face barely sticking out of my sleeping bag, my eyelids feel weighted with exhaustion and the comfort of finally being warm. The small LED lantern is in the dimmest mode, sitting on the table beside me casting a soft warm light. I usually sleep best in pitch black darkness, but am not brave or crazy enough to sleep without a light turned on while I'm inside this abandoned building at night. The last thing I remember doing before passing out for the n

“Where are you?” Mercer hesitated. “Why?” “You know why.” Another pause followed. Then, finally— “Pier 47. Midnight.” The call ended. Leila released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “That sounded… ominous.” Adrian’s expression gave nothing away. “We need to get there first.” A Meeting in the Dark Upon their arrival, the docks were almost deserted, the air thick with the scent of salt and gasoline. Shadows stretched long beneath the flickering streetlights, casting the place in an eerie glow.

“Another trap.” “Or a confession,” she said quietly. He watched her. “Either way, I’m not letting you go alone.” They arrived just before midnight. Palais Drachen rose from the snow-draped woods like a palace carved from shadows. Twisting towers, windows lit by candlelight, and a single crimson banner above the arch: THE UNVEILING. Masked guests ascended marble stairs in silence, gloved hands brushing past guards dressed like footmen from a forgotten century. No music. No announcements.

Seraphira added. “Wait until morning,” I smiled softly. “You’ll see it better in daylight.” Though the palace grounds were lit brilliantly by streetlamps and spotlights, nothing compared to the grandeur the sun would reveal. We went straight to Azrik’s chambers. Shaelith practically skipped beside me, her eyes lighting up as she stepped into the deep black interior. Without wasting much time, we freshened up. Despite the late hour, Draven personally brought us food. Apparently, he’d informed the chef well ahead of our arrival.

“Tell me something true before we land.” Lucas hesitated. Then, quietly: “If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t survive this mission.” She smiled, soft and lethal. “Then don’t survive it. Win it.” The plane began its descent. ***** Vienna shimmered beneath the moonlight like a secret whispered between centuries. The masquerade at the Palais D’Etoile was the kind of event where the rich came to confess their sins through indulgence, not repentance. Music spilled from the grand hall — violins chasing flutes, laughter gilded in champagne.

She stretched, arching her back like a cat in the sun, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. Then she saw it. Resting on the pillow where his head should have been was a small, square piece of heavy cream cardstock. She picked it up, her fingers trembling just enough to make the paper rattle. Tonight at midnight. Roof garden. Wear nothing but the silk robe I left you. — M The rest of the day was a total wash.

Outside my chamber window, the palace bells began striking the late hour. One. Two. Three. Midnight was coming. And somewhere inside the palace, secrets were already moving through the shadows. Waiting. Watching. Preparing. And I had the terrible feeling that before this night ended… Someone in this palace was going to betray someone

DAMIEN The restaurant is Per Se... one of the most exclusive establishments in New York. I own a significant stake in it, which means we have the best private dining room and the chef's personal attention. Elara and I arrive at exactly 7 PM. She's in a black evening gown that hugs every of her curve much to my delight, the diamond necklace glittering at her throat. Her hair is swept up, exposing her neck and my marks hidden under makeup, only I know they're there.

Still aching in places no one had touched properly in years. Inside was a single heavy card and a delicate crimson feather. The Eclipse Society cordially invites you to the Midnight Masquerade. One night. No names. No limits. Venetian Villa, Côte d’Azur. 11:00 p.m. Wear the feather. Burn this card after reading. A QR code glowed faintly at the bottom. When she scanned it with trembling fingers, a sultry female voice whispered through her phone: “Come alone. Come hungry. What happens after midnight stays veiled forever.”