Chapter seventeen
The Mystic Masquerade
"Do you have a partner?" was the fervent question everyone seemed eager to ask— it seemed to be the only thing on everyone’s mind all day long.
"The Mystic Masquerade," Veronica announced, "Remember, if you wish to attend the ball, finding a partner is essential."
“Oh my goodness, how are we supposed to do that? Wait — breakfast,” Penelope shrugged. “There are plenty of people in the Grand Cathedral now. Just be brave and ask someone to accompany you, I suppose.”
After hastening to the cathedral, they encountered Lucius, greeting them warmly at the entrance and wearing an exuberant smile.
"Hello," he said cheerfully, guiding them to sit with a group of friends.
"Have you all secured a partner for the ball?" he asked inquisitively, reaching for his fork.
"Not yet," Penelope replied grimly. "And you?"
"No luck so far," Lucius responded, sipping champagne and delicately wiping his lips with a napkin nearby.
Suddenly, a cheerful voice called out ahead of them, "Lucius, do you have a partner?"
"Morris, I haven't found one yet—" Lucius responded lazily, having been asked this question countless times. Morris Morgan approached them hurriedly; his silvery hair was drawn into a braid over his shoulder, and he was panting slightly.
"Me too, so how—" He halted abruptly, his gaze fixed on Veronica. "Gotta go — got lots to do,” he said quickly with a smile, then slipped away into the crowd.
“Boys these days — I just don’t get it,” Emily said to Elizabeth with a smile. "Best of luck to you.”
"Let's go out and seek partners," Elizabeth suggested, rising from the table and leading the way out of the dining hall. She was eager to get out of there before another guy struck her friends.
Penelope wandered toward the corridor, standing there and gazing at the vignette hanging from the ceiling while her hands dangled beside her swiftly.
"Hello, Penelope," Lucius McTavish approached her with a smile, holding a rosette.
"Would you do me the honor—” he asked, their eyes meeting. Penelope cut him off as he wrapped her into his shoulders.
"Of course,” they responded simultaneously, sharing a chuckle. Lucius affixed a rosette to Penelope's hairnet and whispered, "See you at the ball tonight," before heading in the opposite direction, a triumphant smile drawn on his face.
Elizabeth turned a corner and nearly collided with someone nearby.
"Sorry, I—" she stopped dead when she recognized who she had just bumped into—
"Hello," Percy Harrison greeted her, breathing rather fast. "I was wondering if you’d like to go to the ball with me — you know, as friends?”
"Yeah, all right," Elizabeth replied timidly. She quickly turned to leave, but Percy seized the moment to pin a rosette in her hairnet. Elizabeth felt her pulse flutter with excitement as she walked away with a joyful heart. Enthusiasm washed over her as faint color rose in her cheeks, a satisfied grin etched on the corner of her lips.
Elizabeth wandered around in the cathedral, and on every corner she peered into, she saw young couples holding hands as joy flowed over them, or those who had been rejected weeping in the corners, and gloom hung on their faces. She sighed and walked away.
It was not until six o'clock in the evening that Veronica summoned them back to their homes to prepare. Elizabeth chose to take a nap in the living room. But when the eerie silence became unbearable, she eventually hoisted herself upright and decided to get things moving along a bit.
Only a candle flickered nearby. Curious, she tiptoed over stealthily and saw Penelope holding a candleholder; golden lights sparkled over her face, illuminating her in a faint glow. Reading an ancient book in the darkness, Penelope whispered to her briskly without whirling back, “We've only got thirty minutes, Veronica's waiting in the changing room — you should go change too.”
Elizabeth eagerly made her way to the changing room.
Pushing the door open, Elizabeth found herself standing inside a circular room with little rooms surrounding it. She chose one in the corner and stepped inside.
Plopping down comfortably on the cushioned seat, Elizabeth found a patch and a pen hanging from the ceiling. Curiously, she picked it up, dragged it over, and began to draw on the magical patch.
A fantastic moonlit dress and high heels appeared on the patch as the pen scratched softly at the screen. She tapped at the drawings she had drawn with her knuckles.
The items began to spin and flew out of the patch. Invisible threads were knitting the dress. And within seconds, the items dropped onto the floor in a clutter. Elizabeth quickly put them on, enjoying her beautiful appearance in front of the old-fashioned boudoir, and swung open the door.
Almost simultaneously, a side door creaked open — Penelope emerged in a stunning green dress adorned with royal laces, catching her breath.
"Where is Veronica?" asked Elizabeth.
"In the living room," said Penelope. She hurried to the living room, and Elizabeth followed on her heels.
There she sat in an armchair by the fire, draping an elegant, strapless dress that was floor-length and decorated with silk and satin, a beautiful iris blossom at the waist, accentuating her waistline and making her look even more appealing.
The gown displayed an exquisite ombre of deep sapphire and shimmering silvery glow. With such splendid infinite nebulae and comets soaring through the fabric, and not only the galaxy, but the entire universe seemed to be captured in fabric by her magnificent magic power.
Below the knees, it flared out like a mermaid's tail, flowing in the gentle wind, ravishingly.
The long, silvery, glittering veil, which was even longer than the dress itself, was flapping wildly behind her slender body. The dress looked voluminous and luxurious to Elizabeth. Veronica turned gracefully toward them.
How stunning she looked, her blood-red lips and dark violet eyeshadow made her smile more alluring than ever before.
Her ravishing, bright eyes beamed sagacity at Elizabeth, her prominent chin was slightly raised as she heard a rumbling sound in the changing room, and her curly hair had been let down with grace.
"Veronica, you look great!" breathed Elizabeth.
Veronica smiled but didn't answer.
After a few awkward silences, Veronica clicked open her casket, and a beam of white light hit them out of the blue.
When Elizabeth removed the handkerchief that she had used to cover her eyes, she and her friends had reached the entrance of the Ballroom.
Many people were already there, gathering together in corners and walking in packs, wearing glittering high heels and glorious cloaks, gossiping about something unusual.
They stood there, feeling dull, and waited for their partner to arrive.
Morris wore a long black tailcoat and a white tie. He smiled gleefully at Veronica's breathtaking appearance and held her hands. Soon, Lucius and the others, all wearing dark blue tuxedos with satin lapels, ran down the marble staircases to meet their partner.
By ten o’clock, the door to the Ballroom inched open with a soft squeak.
The partners assembled and eagerly entered, awaiting the music. The Ballroom was renowned, with multiple crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a luxurious mattress laid flat on the floor.
Two spiral staircases led to elevated platforms; the marble staircases shone under the twilight, and the ceiling shimmered with an enchanted nebula as the universe coiled high overhead, spraying a glimmering shower of fine stars, with a shining silver moon suspended in the center.
"The winner of the election," announced a voice above Elizabeth, as all looked up to see Josephine on the platform, "are Lucius and Datura. They will have the privilege to dance on the rising platforms. Let the ball begin!"
A gentle note broke the silence, and the pianists began playing the 'Mariage d’amour,' a piece they had practiced for months. Penelope and Lucius ascended one of the spiral staircases gradually, the hem of their clothing flapping swiftly behind them as the clanking of high heels, knocking the marble, echoed through the hall.
Datura, her hands over her hips, leaned over the handrails and smirked at Narcissus, who stared dreamily at the ceiling at the foot of the staircases.
As the music hung thick in the air, they donned golden masks and whirled to face their partners gracefully. Lucius wrapped his arms around Penelope’s waist, lifted her into the air as she had a lithe backbend, and threw a handful of rose petals down, eliciting cheers from the audience.
She twirled repeatedly and was lifted into the air again. Elizabeth was now dancing with Percy, who held her waist; she leaped into the air and landed gracefully. Veronica was dancing a waltz with Morris. She had summoned hundreds of doves to throw ribbons onto the floor, and the chandelier shot out splendid beams in all directions. And the mosaics on the resplendent stained-glass windows cast a soft, ethereal glow into the interior of the room.
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Her lithe figure was lifted high, spinning in the air as she clasped her partner’s hand, her waist curved low toward the ground mid-air. Her limbs stretched soft and supple, as if a swan gliding through the ripples. The hem of her dress flared into a delicate arc with each twirl, catching the light in fleeting, silken swathes.
Her head tilted over gently, hair cascading down in a loose stream that brushed the air as she spun. Her toes pointed sharply and fine, a single delicate tip hovering just above the floor when he dipped her low, her waist sinking deeper, body a fluid, curved line against his steady frame. The music swelled, and she twisted seductively in his grasp, torso rotating slowly and seamlessly, shoulders rolling softly.
Elizabeth was drawn to dance, but she remained cautious during the dance, just in case—
Suddenly, Elizabeth noticed Datura, who was draping a long black cloak, was behaving strangely.
Datura was whispering to someone through a seashell, and she had gotten up and gone to the inner hall. Elizabeth crept over, pressed her ear against the door, and eavesdropped tentatively.
"—Let's catch her once and for all—" Elizabeth heard Datura mutter.
"Of course." A male voice rang from the other end of the seashell.
"At midnight, when she'll be alone—" Rang a female voice, urgent and vicious.
Elizabeth crept away; she had broken out in a cold sweat.
Who are they going to catch?
Who are those two people on the other end of the phone?
What are they planning exactly?
"Eliza, want a drink?" offered Percy as he handed Elizabeth a glass of champagne.
"Thanks," replied Elizabeth.
But she didn't think this was the time for champagne.
When the first two music pieces stopped, the dancers all plopped down on the squashy armchairs to rest.
Elizabeth sat beside Emily and buried her head in her lap.
She breathed a sigh of relief and began telling Emily the weird things happening around her.
After a few minutes' cheerful chat, Morris Morgan came over and sat down beside them. He smiled gently as he told them funny stories and sang songs.
Everyone was entertained, except for Veronica, who was staring at Morris. Her expression was inexplicable, almost anguished.
When Morris reached for a glass of champagne, Elizabeth suddenly noticed an arrow was pointing directly at him.
With a silenced slit, the arrow soared toward Morris quietly.
"Morris, danger!" Elizabeth cried and tried to rush forward.
But Veronica grabbed Elizabeth's wrist tightly and pulled her back, "No, he's a traitor, don't help him, he deserves that!" Veronica whispered coldly in Elizabeth's ear.
But these steady words sounded ridiculous to Elizabeth.
Morris, with his acts so gentle, was a traitor? That's not possible.
"Get off me!" yelled Elizabeth, pulling her hands out of Veronica's clutches with great force.
Morris hurled around just in time, and the arrow missed her by inches. He smiled wholeheartedly back toward Elizabeth.
But Veronica was furious; she leaned forward, her eyes sharpened.
"Elizabeth, haven't I told you enough times, don't help him!" she snarled.
"Veronica, you don't understand." Said Elizabeth coolly, she turned and walked away angrily.
"Elizabeth, when the ball ends, don't wander around; get back at once. You’ve got to save yourself first!" Veronica shouted after her, but Elizabeth didn't respond.
Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling, thinking.
But then, she found herself staring at something glamorous.
Dreamy, ethereal vapor swirling down the crystal chandeliers, while the lights swarmed inside the podium. Sapphire ribbons floated gracefully downward toward them, gradually turning precisely into vapor upon touching the ground. Slow, peaceful music pieces hung in the air as the dance continued.
Elizabeth threw the worries behind her and kept her mind on dancing, but Datura's strange phone call still whirled inside her mind.
With the last note of the piano, the Mystic Masquerade had ended.
Elizabeth took a chance when Veronica was not watching and rushed outside.
Whoever they want to catch, they won't succeed.
Or, did Elizabeth get a clear feeling about who they want to catch?
Inside the room, people were disappearing in dazzling lights.
Penelope and Lucius hesitated at the threshold, lingering at the spot, not ready to return to the sterile silence and tediousness of the institute just yet.
After the last guests departed out of the luxurious Ball Room, they stealthily made their way back, eager to soak in the enchanting atmosphere that lingered in the air.
The room, now hushed and still, was bathed in soft shadows and an eerie quietness, yet its opulence was magnified in the absence of chatter and laughter that was washed over by the breeze sweeping across the now silent ballroom.
As Lucius gently took Penelope's delicate hand in his, their fingers entwining effortlessly, Penelope turned to face him, her graceful smile illuminated his heart, casting away any lingering shadows of uncertainty.
Hand in hand, they ascended the elegantly spiraled staircase, each step resonating with a muted echo against the grand marble. Laughter bubbled between them, light and joyous, as they shared this secret experience. Upon reaching the platform, the grand chandelier overhead blinked to life, its crystal facets refracting into a thousand tiny rainbows that flickered across the silken walls, casting a golden glow that danced across the sleek surfaces of the room.
Mysterious tendrils of mist descended from the chandelier’s pendants, swirling around them gradually, as soft, enchanting music began to weave itself into the atmosphere, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth.
Caught up in the magic enveloping them, Penelope twirled with carefree abandon, her elegantly flowing gown billowing like clouds around her as she glided through the air. Her laughter rang out like crystal chimes, intoxicating and pure.
In that beautifully lit space, their eyes locked in an unspoken dance, each gaze deeper than the last, feeling as though no one else existed—two souls woven together in a tapestry of connection.
Suddenly, the ambiance shifted and shimmered, the very scene around them transformed vibrantly. They were no longer within the confines of the Ball Room but instead found themselves dancing on a pristine beach bordered by the gentle lapping of waves.
Penelope and Lucius now found themselves on the soft, powdery sand, the rhythmic crash of gentle waves singing a serenade to their hearts. With a joyous laugh, Penelope kicked off her sparkling heels, reveling the cool, fine sand tickled Penelope’s bare feet beneath.
The moon emerged overhead, breaking free from its cloudy shroud, casting a silvery cascade of light that danced across the surface of the water. Tiny azure lights twinkled around them like fireflies, forming a luminous circle that seemed to celebrate their bond. As the enchanting melody slowed to a tender lull, Penelope nestled her head against Lucius’s sturdy shoulder, where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat provided comfort and reassurance. They swayed together under the watchful gaze of the moon, the gentle breeze tangling Penelope’s hair like wisps of fine silk. In that magical moment, they swirled in perfect harmony, sharing tender kisses—each one a gentle promise, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting beauty of the night, as if savoring these precious moments could somehow make time stand still.
When drowsiness hit them, they slept on each other's soft, cozy eagle wings as the moonbeams sprinkled on them like a transparent veil.
Penelope smiled peacefully…
But somewhere far away, back at the Ethereal House, tragedies hit.
Elizabeth wandered in the clearing at the back of the Ethereal House, waiting for something to happen.
Perhaps she could help someone from danger.
Suddenly, a cold wind swept across the clearing, carrying the metallic tang of iron and the faint rustle of leaves.
Elizabeth's breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes blazing in fury when she saw who was coming.
Datura was advancing on her with a bloody sword clutched tightly in his hand.
Behind her stood Morris, who was raising his weapon and heading toward Elizabeth, their eyes glinting with dangerous glows.
Now Elizabeth knew who they really wanted to catch.
But she could do nothing; her dagger was lying in her bedroom drawers, miles away from her reach.
"You look good." Said Datura nonchalantly.
"How flattering." Retorted Elizabeth, trying to avoid her stare.
“Morris? Even you?” Elizabeth’s voice dripped with disdain as she glared at him, her hazel eyes blazing with disbelief. “How could you betray me like this?” “Quiet, my dear,” Morris whispered dangerously, his voice low and cold as he brushed a loose strand of his silver hair over his shoulder, his demeanor shifting from charming to menacing in an instant.
“You have no idea what’s truly happening, and you keep obstructing our plans, even putting my foolish fiancée in peril. But don’t worry; all of you will pay for this.” The warm smile and gentle tone he had worn just hours before at the grand ball were now replaced by a fierce, predatory look that sent shivers down her spine.
“Hold her!” Datura commanded sharply, twirling her gleaming sword, the metal catching the dim light of the torches that flickered nearby. In a moment of desperation, Elizabeth bent down, her fingers curling around a rough rock lodged in the dirt. She hurled it at Morris with all her strength, but it sailed past him, missing by mere inches. Morris’s fury ignited; his eyes locked onto hers, dark with rage, his mouth twitching as he fought to contain his wrath. Determined, Elizabeth closed her eyes to gather her energy, feeling the familiar warmth of power surge within her, willing her energy bolt to rise. But just when she was about to unleash her magic, Datura intervened.
A sudden clatter of iron diverted Elizabeth’s attention. Her eyelids snapped open, and with that distraction, the vivid green flames of her energy flickered and extinguished immediately. Her gaze shot upward, and she saw Datura deliberately letting her sword clatter to the ground, the sound sharp and deliberate, effectively breaking Elizabeth’s concentration. Before she could blink, Morris had her bent over, her knees pressed firmly against the cold ground, while Datura seized her arms, pinning them cruelly behind her back.
“Kidnap? Really? That’s the best you can come up with? That’s all you've got?” Elizabeth shot back indignantly, her heart racing as she struggled against their grip, frustration overwhelming her as she tried hopelessly to twist free.
The sword lay tantalizingly close, glinting ominously in the darkness, but with her hands bound tightly behind her, reaching for it was out of the question. Morris’s laughter cut through the air like a knife, cruel and derisive, echoing mockingly in the shadows of the dimly lit room.
How naive she had been to trust him, she thought bitterly, a deep sense of betrayal clawing at her insides. She should have learned long ago that trusting strangers was a fool's errand; those who feigned kindness often wielded the sharpest blades beneath their smiles. Veronica had warned her, specifically highlighting that Morris was nothing but a traitor.
A wave of foolishness washed over her, intertwining with the sharp pang of heartbreak as she realized her allies had let her down.
All she could do now was succumb to the reality of her capture, taken away by those who had shattered her heart. But Elizabeth had fought before; she wasn’t a coward.
Would her friends think less of her for being caught?
Her mind raced with thoughts of what awaited her in this dark, unfamiliar place, her pulse quickening in fear. Morris pulled a sleek device from his pocket, clicking it open with an air of satisfaction.
In an instant, a blinding beam of light enveloped her, and when it faded, Elizabeth found herself face down on a cold, damp floor, every breath laced with the musty scent of the stone walls surrounding her. Struggling to rise, Elizabeth looked around, her heart sinking as recognition struck her like a jolt. She was in a cell, the same one from her haunting dream that had felt so real. She took a deep, steadying breath, her fingers instinctively reaching for her cherished necklace, its smooth surface a comfort in the bleakness of her situation.
What if Victoria is somewhere here?
"Elizabeth? What have you done? How come you end up here?" a frustrated voice rang in the corner.
Elizabeth spun around and found Victoria huddling in a corner. Her eyes were fixed on Elizabeth.
"I fight—" whispered Elizabeth, trying to look tough.
"Save it." Whispered Victoria, "I know you fight.”
Elizabeth sighed, “I thought I got it—thought courage was just swinging a sword stupidly. But being stuck here —listening to every water drop like a death knell?” Elizabeth sighed, lowering her head, the fire still in her eyes, her head suddenly snapped up, “That’s when I realized—courage is fighting even when you’re tied up. Even when you’re scared, it’s about fighting for the right thing even though you know the consequences are severe.”
“We gotta make it, we won’t satisfy them.” Reassured Victoria as she sat her lofty head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. Elizabeth felt a shimmer of hope; she looked down and gently stroked her friend’s hair.
With a deep breath, she sighed.
“It’s gonna be over. And we’ll be okay.”
In the darkness, the two figures huddling together, cold drops of water dripping to the floor, were the only sound in this eerily silent chamber.
Long hours went by, and no one came.
The silence stretched on.
And in that silence, they began to believe it.
They were alone.
If this was what Datura wanted, she had succeeded.
But not for a long shot.