“Very grotesque,” a greeter says to me as I enter an Ascentian mansion.

“As intended,” I reply, keeping a low tone. I’m wearing a mask made of steel, one just like Eleanor’s old cover. It has black, see-through mesh in the eyes to make it look like I don’t have any. There is red paint falling down the eye sockets to the molded lips to make it look like there is blood on it. I let my hair fall in a loose braid over my right side with black roses weaved into it that match my black, floral, and long-sleeved dress.

“Please,” the knight-faced guard says near the entrance, “enjoy yourself.”

I nod to him and continue, surveying the many people in the mansion. There are many faces about, but none of them are real. I love masquerades, how you never really know who you are talking to unless you hear their voice, and even then, you may not know for sure. What I enjoy most about them is how I can cover myself up and still blend in with the crowd.

“Choice mask,” a high-pitched, zipping voice says at my right. I turn and see what looks like a human face plastered onto a papier mâché mold. Its voice is quick and seems to fly around, much like if a mosquito were to speak.

“I didn’t know the bugs were in town,” I reply. I know of her kind, the Inseacea race. They are a subset of a larger group of species, the Bestials. The Beastials break out into the Reptilia, the Inseaceas, Arachnea, and so on. However, they are not common around where I live in the living world, let alone Ascentia.

“It would be wise not to stress this one,” the mosquito-lady replies. Under that fleshy mask, she probably has a human-ish face. It wouldn’t have ears on the side and its hair would be like fluid twigs running down the head, but it would resemble a human’s. The worst part about them is their extra appendages, which range from scorpion tail-like spears to mosquito-like extensions from their faces. ‘This one’ probably has the latter.

“It would be wise to state your business with me,” I mimic her.

She steps closer and I stand my ground, keeping my eyes on the mask. “Wouldn’t one be interested in that?”

“I’m done here,” I reply as I simply begin to walk away. I feel the bug’s eyes on me and I hear her begin following me.

“This one is not finished speaking to you, Miss-“ She stops as I turn to face her again.

“You want to talk? Let’s talk, then.” I snap my hand over her wrist and send our perceptions into something like a time lapse. It looks like the world, including us, has stopped, though we can still speak to one another.

The Inseacea gasps and spouts something about witchery. “You are no ordinary lady, this one understands.”

“Who are you?” I reply.

“This one is surprised you notice not. I am Escelatia, Goddess of Illness.” A Descentian goddess, one on my list to hunt. Well, she was on my list before I realized that you apparently can’t just run around attacking people anymore.

“Well, then. Escelatia, what do you want with me?”

“This goddess can see your intentions, mortal lady. What business do you have with the Prince of Blades? One would be too ignorant to attempt a battle during festivities.”

“I can be as risky as I’d like and wherever I’d like, though those are not my intentions. I am watching his behavior here.”

Escelatia’s voice becomes angered. “Try nothing, mortal.”

I narrow my eyes, though she wouldn’t know. You know, unless she can see my face with some other hidden power. “Try me and I’ll squash you.” I release my grip on her and we are thrown back into regular time. Only a second has passed and to everyone else, it looks like I simply grabbed her wrist for a moment. “Watch me if you want to, but I don’t intend to cause any harm to the prince.” I turn and walk off once more, now in search of Arkaden. Yhannason gave me an idea of how to find him, which consists of a few clues I’ll have to go off.

First, Arkaden loves the color red. He will probably have some kind of red sash or red mask. I saw plenty of red in the crowd, and not just the blood paint. There were hats flared with red and masks splattered with red, though none of them seemed to stand out as much as I hoped.

Second, he is extremely formal. Look for great posture and some kind of proper greeting. I take notice of the little movements others I speak to at the masquerade are making. Some of the red-masked men are proper and a few even kiss my hand with a kneel, yet I couldn’t pick out Arkaden from any of them. Heavens above, I have never even seen the man before!

Third, he absolutely adores Juliano’s Tales . If possible, get him to finish some quote from one of them. I spent too much time repeating the same half sentence before someone actually responded well. I step over to a man with a bright red theater mask with a symbol painted in white on it. As I reach him, he hits his left fist to his lower back, slightly bows, and holds out a hand to me. “Good evening, Madam.” His voice certainly sounds like he comes from Descentia. I place my hand in his and he plants a kiss on it.

I skip the formalities and say, “So slowly, the fern grows-“

“-and so quickly, it dies,” he says back. “Feth, Summer Leaves. A fan?”

“Of sorts, perhaps,” I reply. “And you are?”

“A reader of his work, of course.” Arkaden is a smart man not to disclose his identity in an Ascentian party. He slightly tightens his grip on my hand and asks, “May I have this dance?”

“If you can keep up,” I challenge him. He nods to me and then pulls me closer to, like everyone else around us, begin dancing. He is rigid, though has a follow-up to every move he makes- the perfect duelist. “Tell me about yourself, ‘Reader.’”

I can tell he is smiling through his mask as he says, “I’m not so important, though I am curious about you. Disturbing cover, but a beautiful voice to break the impeccable façade. I would be a fool not to know you personally.”

“You are forward, sir. But if I am someone you are incompatible with under the mask?”

“A risk well-taken, and a journey nonetheless.” I think that’s also from some fable. Arkaden sure is a bookworm, huh?

“If that is the journey, where would you prefer the destination?” I figure if I can keep talking cryptically with this guy, I can figure out his intentions… somehow.

“My, that’s a question indeed. It is not the destination that matters but the journey, for it is the path you take that shapes you.”

“Or is it you that shapes yourself by the paths you choose?”

“Are you doing the choosing, Lady, or is it destiny that makes your decision?”

“If destiny is all-knowing, then is there a reason to act out these scripts anymore?” Wow, I’m getting really philosophical.

“In that case, no matter the path you walk, you still fall short of release from destiny’s chains.”

“No matter the path I walk, will you walk it with me?” This is the kicker, because to him, not realizing who I am, I can be any woman at all. If he is spoken for, he will back down. If not, then there is little risk in being a flirt tonight.

He spins me with one hand, then lunges forward to drop me, only to catch my back with his other hand. He is a very good dancer, but as seen before, it’s like he is going through a set of predetermined moves. He is methodical and may not adhere well to change. “If you can keep up, Miss.” Wow, he is good.

After the short dance, he brings me out to an atrium-like room in the middle of the mansion to talk. I am happy with it since I have a lot of talking I need to do with him. “You hail from Ascentia, ‘Reader’?”

“Woman, we are at a masked ball. If we would give up our identities, are we properly paying our respects to the theme?”

“I suppose you are correct. What to talk of, then?”

“Perhaps why you are intrigued by me?” He stands and I realize we are not alone. At one door, the same masked Inseacea woman and a few other strangers step in. I rise as well and whip around to face them all. “Relax, Lady. Security is important, as you may understand.”

“Why do you need security in the form of a Descentian goddess, Prince?” I ask him, blowing my façade of ignorance.

He chuckles, “So, you do know who I am. My business is mine and yours is yours, but I am now curious. Who are you?”

“I can’t say I’m prepared to give that information. What, are you afraid, Arkaden?”

He turns to his entourage. “She knows who I am as well.” Looking back at me, he answers, “Not at all, but I become interested when I am being sought after. Quite unnatural that an individual would greet everyone the same, odd way until they reached me. Plus, my allies were aware of your intentions.”

“Your allies should be wary of who they track, lest they be squashed like a mosquito against a windshield.”

Escelatia steps forward. “Poor choice of words for the mortal woman.”

Arkaden lifts a hand to halt her. He looks to me and says, “You are not willing to fight outnumbered, are you, woman? Or do you not wish to fight?”

“You know you’ve calculated every possible move here, Prince. Perhaps, like destiny, you already know what is going to happen.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“Yet, prince,” I say as I lift a hand. “You’ve not taken account of all the variables.” Escelatia gestures to the two other masked figures and they approach me, probably henchmen. I square up my palm to one and, in an instant, he flings a fist to connect with the other. After, the first that knocked out his ally drops to the floor unconscious.

“Mortal, you wish to die tonight?” That mosquito lady is really getting on my nerves.

“Stop, Goddess,” Arkaden holds her back once more, then steps out to be adjacent to me. “We do not know what she wishes for, and therefore, we will extract it with honor. Mortal woman, I challenge you to a duel.”

“Hardly fair,” I reply as I face him.

He moves his left hand to his back. “One arm tied, I’ll hold back.”

“No,” I smile under my mask. “One on one? You’re greatly outnumbered, Prince.” In response, he brings his hand back forward and holds both as if over an imaginary hilt. From his gloves, steel-like material begins to pull forward and manifest into a tall, one-sided sword. It’s like he was disguising his weapon as his own attire, which is genius. This man is definitely intelligent, though I can’t determine his level of morality yet. Lucky for him, I wasn’t able to bring in any physical weapon. Unlucky for him, I don’t need a physical weapon. “Come at me, Arkaden.”

“Ladies first,” he replies. I oblige, standing still while I sway my hand lightly through the air. I see frost beginning to glaze over his arms and bare hands. He notices, beginning to shake. “A quick victory is evitable, woman. Nice try.” He slips the sword through his fingers so that the dull side is facing downwards, then he lunges to strike. I slam my fist closed, finishing the spell, making a physical connection of ice form between us. He breaks through it, but slows down quickly as I use the remaining ice to block his attack. Once the blade strikes, my ice formation sheds itself to form into an icy blade, mimicking his own. I hear him sigh, showing that he knows he is in for a fight.

I magically push him back with one hand and reposition the blade with my other. My free hand tingles and twitches as I create a spell to quicken my speed. Each time Arkaden strikes at me, my blade rushes to meet his, creating a seemingly impenetrable defense. He clearly has planned for it, however, as he uses his own abilities as a prince to summon a shade of himself, striking at me with the same attacks moments after him. I become quickly overwhelmed as the attacks become increasingly more difficult to block, so as I take a few steps back, I drop the first spell to infuse my blade with Anti-Magic, a magic I’ve been toying with for years now. As he comes forward to strike again, I focus (probably a bit too much of) my power into a counter that connects well. I hear shattering as the ice holding my sword together breaks. However, once the swing is finished, I see that my blade is not the only one that gave in.

Arkaden begins pulling the pieces of steel on the ground back to the gloved form over his hands. When done, he looks to me. “Formidable, mortal opponent.”

“I’m more than just a pretty voice,” I reply.

“Whoever you are, I applaud you.”

“Thank you,” I say, then use illusions to make my mask seem to smile at him. I see Escelatia whispering to her guards in the background while looking right at me. That’s right; keep staring, bug. You’re still on the list.