The music faltered.
Not stopped — faltered, like it sensed death before the crowd did.
The waltz slowed into something wrong, notes stretching unnaturally, strings trembling as if pulled by unseen hands. Obsidian mirrors lining the ballroom flickered, reflections lagging half a heartbeat behind reality.
Elaris felt it first.
That sharp tightening in her chest.The instinct that whispered: run.
Then the chandeliers pulsed.
Once.Twice.
Crimson light bled through the crystal veins, staining silk gowns and polished marble alike. Conversations died mid-laugh. Masks turned toward the balcony as if summoned.
A figure stood above them.
Cloaked in silver. Mask smooth and reflective — no eyes, no mouth, just a flawless surface that caught the red glow and threw it back tenfold.
The music cut out completely.
Silence crashed down.
The figure's voice rolled across the hall, amplified not by magic alone, but by certainty.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Crimson Coast…"
Every breath froze.
"Tonight— one of you will not leave alive."
For half a second, no one moved.
Then the masquerade shattered.
Screams tore through the hall. Glass shattered. Guests stumbled over one another, masks cracking, slipping — revealing fear, greed, fury beneath painted smiles.
Elaris felt Kael's fingers tighten around her hand.
Not possessive.Not controlling.
Protective.
His grip was firm, anchoring, pulling her half a step behind him as bodies surged around them. She hated how instinctively she let him. Hated how her pulse synced to his.
Masks weren't decorations anymore.
A woman in ivory silk twisted her mask — it split open, unfolding into twin blades. A man laughed hysterically as he fired a gun from beneath his coat, shooting at shadows, at nothing.
The Crimson Coast's elite revealed their true faces.
Killers.Survivors.Monsters in velvet.
Elaris scanned the room, wings itching beneath her skin. This isn't random, she realized. This is curated.
A game.
Her gaze flicked back to the balcony — the silver-masked figure was gone.
"Stay close," Kael said sharply, eyes tracking movement, calculating angles.
She shot him a glare. "I don't need—"
A scream cut her off.
First blood.
A masked noble collapsed near the orchestra pit, crimson spreading across marble like spilled wine. The musicians scattered, instruments abandoned mid-note.
That's when Elaris saw it.
The assassin.
He moved wrong — too smooth, too deliberate. Black mask, matte finish, no ornamentation. While others panicked, he flowed through the chaos, blade already wet.
His eyes locked onto hers.
Target acquired.
"Kael," she breathed.
He followed her gaze instantly. His body shifted, placing himself between her and the threat without thinking. For a heartbeat, she almost argued.
Then the assassin lunged.
Gunfire exploded.
The sound ripped through the ballroom, shattering what little order remained. People dropped, glass rained down, and the masquerade finally revealed its true nature.
War, dressed as a dance.
Kael pulled her hard to the side as bullets tore through the space where her head had been a second earlier. Her mask cracked against his shoulder, gold feathers splintering.
They collided chest to chest.
For one suspended moment, everything else blurred.
His breath was warm against her temple. Her hands were fisted in his coat. His arm was locked around her back, solid, unyielding.
"You okay?" he asked — not a command. A check.
She nodded once. "Yeah."
The assassin was already moving again.
And the night had only just begun.