Moonlit Rite

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PROLOGUE

Blood.

A lake of blood, still warm, weakly reflecting the light of the chandeliers upon the dancefloor.

No hair or bone, no ring nor gown.
It was absolute transmutation — it was pure.

The dancers were none the wiser and they executed the spell to perfection. There they rested, all forty-nine of them; their last emotion that of pride. We suppose the dancemaster will be recompensed now, as those two years of laborious training culminated flawlessly.

After the change, the musicians simply stood up and left, all their instruments abandoned, their purpose fulfilled. That last chord still resonated through the room with no one else left to hear it but us. From all we saw tonight, that was the most shocking moment — that nonchalance. All that passion during the performance surely enriched the spell, but in the end that’s all it was: a performance.

Hells, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and the full moon shone brighter than ever. Just how many nephomancers were hired for this evening? That wasn’t something for us to question, our job was merely to observe.

And still… to think the palace itself was built for this single purpose centuries before we were even born.

We felt relief, however, for the forty-nine. They alone enjoyed the festivities — killing them was a mercy.

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I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse. If you’d like to read more single pages like this one, please consider sharing it. I’ll do my best to keep writing.

I do it for myself — but I’m grateful I get to do it for you too.