The Great Hall of the West Tower had ceased to be a room; it had become a hallucination.
The black ice floor swirled with trapped smoke, so it looked like the guests were walking on storm clouds. The air carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine and expensive wine. The music didn't come from an orchestra, but from the shadows themselves. It was a haunting, cello-heavy melody that seemed to vibrate in the bones.
And the guests... they were all there.
Even though they made excuses to the King and were afraid, the pull of the "Forbidden Ball" was too strong. The Duke of Highgarden was there, hiding behind a golden lion mask. Lady Voss, who seemed to have recovered from her migraine and her burnt dress, wore a mask of peacock feathers.
They drank wine that sparkled like liquid amethyst. They whispered. They waited.
At the top of the obsidian staircase, the shadows combined.
Mirabelle stepped into the light.
