The masquerade was held in a vast, echoing ballroom, every inch of it draped in opulence and mystery. Gilded sconces cast a golden light over silk-draped walls, the flickering glow catching on delicate filigree molding that ran like lace across the ceiling. Swirling patterns chased shadows across the room, and every corner was softened by velvet and candlelight.

Grand chandeliers hung above, their crystals refracting light in a thousand fragments that glinted against the brocade and silk of the guests’ attire. The air was thick with the hum of conversation, mingling with faint strains of chamber music filtering through the room, as violins and cellos sang in lilting waltzes, adding a haunting elegance to the scene.

Armand entered the ballroom like a shadow slipping between shafts of moonlight. His arrival was slow and deliberate, each step precise as he descended the grand staircase that overlooked the room, draped in midnight velvet that caught the light like the surface of deep water. He wore a mask in the style of a Venetian harlequin, crafted from silver with delicate black accents that traced around the eyes, adding an edge of mystery and severity. It framed his piercing golden-brown eyes, which shone even from a distance, scanning the crowd with an expression that spoke of secrets held just out of reach.

The murmurs began, soft and tentative, as people turned their heads, glancing up to where he stood, entranced. Armand paused midway down the staircase, gazing over the room with the air of someone who both belonged and transcended. His lips quirked slightly in a ghost of a smile, though the expression never reached his eyes, which remained sharp and calculated. He allowed himself this brief moment of stillness, basking in the attention that simmered just below the surface of the crowd’s polite murmuring, before continuing down, his cloak billowing slightly with each movement as if gravity itself had a lesser hold on him. Oh, the envy in their eyes- the adoration from their sheer gazes.