Peering through the black lace of his mask, Bren hissed out a breath as he pressed his back to the wall, trying his best to remain inconspicuous amongst the crowds of Manos that had gathered for Archer’s birthday celebration. He surveyed the grand ballroom, sighing at the lavish extremes his parents had gone to in order to make the room a spectacle. 

The vast, domed room was made almost entirely of glass, a galaxy of stars hanging listlessly above. Crystal chandeliers scattered iridescent rainbow light over the floors and walls, diffused by gossamer curtains that draped over the high arches and balconies around the room.    

As more guests in fine gowns and tailored suits arrived and descended the grand staircase, Bren felt himself shrink. He watched the elegant couples greet his parents by the entry, his stomach squirming as his eyes locked onto his mother and father. He hadn’t spoken to his parents since last night, half pretending it hadn’t happened so all of them could focus on the festivities instead. 

The orchestra began to play, situated on a stage surrounded by arches of flowers. Though it was a beautiful thrum of harmonic strings, all Bren felt with the swell of music was envy as he watched the Manos flood into the ballroom like an unstoppable wave. He could see the magic flow around them like an aura; it was in their clothes, their hair, glittering just as radiantly as any expensive accessory. Manos used magic for everything, and the more magic they used, the more important they appeared.  

Half hiding behind a tall arrangement of wisteria and roses, Bren fidgeted with the diamond cufflinks on his evening coat. Though he had no aura of magic around him, his attire was still far more formal than anything he was accustomed to. He felt like a doll, dressed up in his finest midnight blue satin suit, a black brocade vest cinching his waist with a corseted back. Each detail of his outfit was intricate and extravagant, from the raven feathers adorning his masquerade mask to the delicate jewelry he wore around his neck, wrists, and fingers; everything perfectly in place. It just made him feel tight and rigid, almost as if his regal attire would somehow keep everything he really was locked inside him.

Out of habit he felt over his pocket, trying to calm his racing heart as he felt for his coin, the heavy, circular shape giving him a small sense of reassurance.   

Standing alone and trying to avoid any and all interactions, Bren awkwardly eyed the wait staff circulating the growing crowd, offering canapes and tall flutes of champagne. Everyone seemed thrilled, pointing and gasping at the beautiful exhibits and surrounding the large buffet tables catering a feast of food. There were bouts of applause as patrons watched live acrobatic performers hanging from beautiful hoops above marble pedestals, conjuring glowing butterflies or scattering petals that they’d plucked from thin air…all gentle and captivating displays of magic that Bren could only dream of summoning.  

Across the room, he caught sight of his brother, already socializing and surrounded by a throng of beautiful women. Where Bren wore all dark, rich colors, Archer was dressed in airy whites and golds, angelic and pure. His gold mask looked like a mirror, large plumes of albino peacock feathers draping over his dark hair. Bren had to fight rolling his eyes, deciding to leave the safety of his alcove hiding spot as he neared one of the less crowded tables set with an array of sweets and sparkling ciders. 

Reaching out for a glass of fizzing pink liquid, Bren jumped, startled as the glass beside his levitated slightly. His gaze followed it as an elegant hand wrapped around the delicate stem, long, manicured nails tapping the glass as a calm, feminine voice stated, “I’m not a fan of these parties either.”

Looking up, Bren’s heart dropped, immediately feeling the blood rush out of his face in a dizzying wash of panic. The woman that stood there wore a matching set of deep purple trousers and jacket, its silver pattern shimmering and swirling as if the design were alive. It was much like her hair, magic glistening through long blonde strands as it flourished in slow motion around her, making her look like she was underwater. Above all the glamor and elegance she displayed, it was her eyes that shocked Bren; an intense shade of bright green that was visible through her floral mask, narrowing in on him.       

Swallowing down his nerves, Bren muttered, “Warden Payne…” He tried to sound nonchalant and polite, but terror raked its sharp claws through him. “What an honor to have our city leader grace our presence. I know my parents will be elated.” Of all the guests that Bren had expected—famed performers and prominent figureheads—he had not expected the Warden of Vitalos, commander of the prosecutors.

She smiled coolly at Bren, delicately sipping from her glass as she stated, “I wasn’t sure I would be able to make it. We had quite a mess in the city outskirts last night. Umbra sighting, I’m afraid…” Her eyes scanned over Bren, smile fading as she uttered, “You’ll no doubt have heard the rumors.” 

It took every inch of control for Bren not to instinctively reach in his pocket—he couldn’t be that obvious—but his sensibility didn’t stop his own magic spiking through his blood in a defensive reflex, wanting to be unleashed. Barely breathing in fear it would stir the power inside him, Bren answered, “I hadn’t, but my family has been quite focused on the festivities. We’ve all wanted to make it a…special night for Archer.”

Pausing for a moment, Bren was relieved when she nodded, her hair swirling like pale smoke around her. “Of course. Vitalos is grateful to your parents and all their hard work in the city sector. Their influence and political presence makes them both highly valued.” She smiled again, though it seemed forced as she stated, “No doubt they’ll put you and your brother to work soon as successors.”

Bren shuddered at the thought of being in the public’s eye like his parents. “Archer certainly looks forward to it. I’m…not sure if my social prowess is quite up to snuff.” He cleared his throat, trying to be discreet as he slipped his hand into his pocket and barely brushed the coin with his fingertip.

There was the cold prick of magic in his veins, Bren trying to be calm and controlled as he levitated the glass of cider to his hand. It shot forward abruptly, Bren almost struggling to catch it as he broke the connection with the coin. He cleared his throat, muttering, “Apologies, Warden.” He followed her lead and took a sip of sparkling cider, wondering if it might take the edge off his nerves. 

The Warden smirked, her bright lips curving into a grin as she said, “Not to worry, Brennon. But you needn’t let your nerves get in the way. I have high hopes for you.” She nodded in a gesture of respect before saying, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll pay my respects to your brother. He seems to be quite the life of the party.”

“He always is,” Bren answered, giving her a small bow of his head. There was no way to define the amount of relief Bren felt at her departure, a heavy sigh loosening his tight chest. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding his breath, finding himself almost gasping in air. He retreated immediately back to the alcove he’d been previously concealed in, abandoning his thoughts of lingering for a plate of anything to eat. 

He looked down at his reflection in the narrow glass, hardly recognizing himself behind the mask and refined garments. He could still hear his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out the music as it created its own racing beat. If he had been discovered—even suspected…

Bren’s gaze lifted to the crowd of people, trying to search through the sea of splendor to find his parents, hoping they would remain oblivious to his exchange. He felt the moment his eyes locked with his mother, her large blue ball gown hiked up as she hurried toward him, determination in her stride. There was no question that she’d been watching him, and now Bren could only imagine she’d demand an account of what had been said or remind him of his duty to their image…

He slipped away from the wall, turning his back on her as he braved the floor of dancing couples to avoid the confrontation. There was an ache in his chest as he evaded her, winding through the guests to try and lose her in the crowd. He couldn’t risk getting upset in front of everyone, not after last night. If he allowed his emotions to get out of hand, his magic would no doubt follow suit, and that was the last thing he needed in front of the Warden of Vitalos. 

“Bren! Hey!” Archer’s booming voice hit him like a hard slap, making Bren stop and look up. For the first time that evening, his brother was alone, though Bren could clearly spot the group of women that were tailing him at a distance. Archer hardly seemed to notice, saying in a hush, “Where have you been hiding? The Warden mentioned you were being a bit of a wallflower. We can’t have that!” He sounded boisterous and mildly drunk as he threw his arm around Bren’s shoulder, leading him to stand next to a pillar decorated in a garland of roses. 

Bren rubbed at his arm nervously, eyes meeting Archer’s through their masks as he asked, “What else did she say about me?”

Archer waved away his concern, leaning in to murmur in Bren’s ear. “You’re supposed to be having fun. Don’t worry tonight, everyone’s too drunk and enamored to notice anything anyway. Humor me and talk to someone. Ask someone to dance.”

A flush heated Bren’s cheeks as he leaned away from Archer, grumbling, “I’m terrible at dancing.”

“Come on. Surely there’s someone that catches your eye?” Archer squeezed Bren to his side. “I’ll be your wingman.”

Wriggling out of Archer’s hold, Bren scoffed, muttering, “You’re drunk—”

Above the music and laughter, an ear piercing scream shattered the air. All the loud noises and sounds slowly halted and died down; the orchestra stopped playing and murmurings broke out. Bren couldn’t see over the crowd, his heart hammering in his chest as he wondered what had happened—what was wrong. Though he expected another scream or someone to call for help, instead the floor began to tremble like an earthquake. The whole room shook, rattling the tables and decorations as the vibration grew quicker, a magnetic force pulling Bren toward the ground as the air suddenly felt heavy. 

And then the explosion ripped through the room. 

There was a deafening boom as the air pulsed and shot out in a wave of pure force, shattering the glass in an overwhelming crash as it blew fragments inward, slivers raining down. All the light in the room was extinguished as people were thrown to the ground, Bren toppling and smacking his head hard against the marble surface. His ears rang, muffled cries and panicked shouting filling the void like distant nightmares. His vision was blurred as he ripped off his mask to get a better vantage, vaguely aware of figures running as he tried to sit up and understand what was happening. 

Bren winced as there was a series of sharp stings against his hands, crushed glass shards cutting into his skin. It drew thick drops of blood, Bren trying to brush the glass away and finding it embedded. Searching his surroundings, he found Archer on the ground beside him, slowly coming to. Bren half crawled over to him, trying to avoid the glass and chaos but it was everywhere, terror coursing through his veins. “Archer! Archer, get up.”

Archer groaned, pulling his shattered mask off his face as he sat up. He swore and rubbed the back of his head. “What the hell happened?” he muttered, getting to his feet with Bren, relatively unscathed.  

“I don’t know.” Bren’s eyes darted around the room in the darkness, seeing figures injured on the ground, more running toward the exit or escaping through the broken glass walls. Bren was desperate to find his parents in the mass of dark shapes, praying they were alright and would have answers.   

It was then that he saw it, his whole body tensing and running cold. 

There was a dark glow in the center of the room, smoke swirling around a figure. Her black dress looked like leather plates of armor, her pitch black hair clinging to her face in a short, sleek crop. Her eyes were pupilless and glowing a striking, sickly blue, corruption darkening the veins in her face that centered around small horns protruding out of her skull. Bren’s eyes flicked to her closed fist, black, misshapen fingers curled around a glowing, charred amulet. 

Though to Bren she was a stranger, there was one thing he was certain of…

She was an Umbra.