Chapter 12 – The Dance of Masks
Velandria's palace had never gleamed so brightly.
By sunset, its ancient halls had transformed into a realm of flickering candlelight, enchanted crystal chandeliers, and music spun from invisible harps. The Masquerade of Blood and Moonlight was more than a social festivity—it was a rite. A declaration of which contenders were truly capable of wielding grace, power, and charm before nobility and gods alike.
Eira stood at the top of the staircase, heart drumming. A velvet mask obscured her face, embroidered in silver thread that mirrored the crescent moon pinned in her dark hair. Her gown, deep crimson and cut daringly low, was chosen not by Mira, but by Marion—an intentional choice that whispered: She’s no longer pretending. She’s becoming.
“I can’t breat
