The invitation arrives in a box made of teeth.
It does not knock. It breathes.
Inside is no letter.
Only a mask made of glass and flame.
And a whisper, ancient and sweet:
"Come dance with those who cannot forget you."
The Eternal Masquerade is not held in a ballroom.
It is a realm carved from the memories of dead gods and discarded dreams.
A floating palace above the void, tethered by lies no longer told.
And tonight?
It waits for me.
I arrive unmasked.
I don't need a disguise.
Because I am already a myth.
And myths wear no faces they wear fates.
Music that has never been written echoes across a hall of mirrors and shadow.
Dancers swirl some limbless, some faceless, all beautiful in the way stars are beautiful before they die.
They part like silk when I enter.
Because even here, even now…
I am the flame they cannot name.
The Hollow Prince descends.
He wears no crown.
Only sorrow shaped like laughter.
"You broke the page," he says.
"You sing a story that was never written."
"Do you know what that makes you?"
"Desired."
He offers his hand.
And though I do not take it, I do not refuse.
Because the dance?
It's begun.
And in this waltz of want and war, I let him come close.
Too close.
"They fear you'll destroy the world," he whispers.
"But I fear you'll seduce it."
And then,
She appears.
Not masked.
Not dancing.
Just standing.
Watching.
A girl with eyes like mine. Power like mine.
And a voice that shouldn't exist.
"Do you remember," she says, "what it means to love?"
I freeze.
Because that voice?
It's mine.
But younger.
Before the fire. Before the fall.
Before I became what they tried to cage.