The orchestra’s haunting melody fills the grand ballroom of Wyrm’s Rock, reverberating off marble walls. Around you, a sea of nobles adorned in elaborate masks drift through the room like shadows. Laughter mingling with the clinking of crystal almost cacophonous, as the grating sounds nestle within your ears.

You were sent here to infiltrate the masquerade and gather any information that might bring down Archduke Enver Gortash. Moving with practiced grace, you slip between clusters of guests. You share brief but pointed conversations with conniving nobles exchanging rumors in hushed tones. You slip within a group of portly lords lost in boasts and indulgent laughter, feigning interest just long enough to avoid suspicion.

Finally, you edge closer to the dance floor, glancing toward the doors leading to Gortash’s office. With a quickened pace, you begin to cross, the marble floor all but a blur beneath your feet. However, your journey is halted as the music swells, its tempo urging pairs into motion. Before you can react, a tall figure in black intercepts you, his mask dark and angular, his eyes watching you intently.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, his voice a smooth command as he bows, extending a gloved hand.

You hesitate, but to avoid drawing attention, you accept. His hand settles firmly on your waist, guiding you with a grace that feels both reassuring and disarming. The world narrows to just the two of you, his steps steady and sure, each one drawing you deeper into the mystery of his gaze.