The Night of the Evil Moon

It is at this time of the month, when the night is at its darkest state, when even a firefly could get lost without the guidance of the Moon, that the most heinous minds in Emphrellaig embrace their evilness together. While the high society chooses to hold their social evening on the occasion of the full moon, event in which many of us take part as well, the irony isn’t lost on those among us who are aware of both traditions.

    Grim silhouettes are already joining the confines of a huge mansion on the hill when I get off the carriage which led me here. Passing an immense black grid with arrow-shaped edges, I follow the pathway leading to the mansion.

    One by one, the guests at the door show the servant the invitation they received in order to be allowed to cross the threshold. A token of evilness I show in turn with a smirk.

     Dressed in a black coat and a purple ruffle, a grim cane topped with a violet gem in my grasp, I step inside. A mask of the same colours partly covers my face, feathers hooked at its side. If the overall choice of the masquerade mask is left to the guests, the black feathers are mandatory. In opposition to the white and golden hues of the angels’, they are a symbol of what gathers us tonight. Hellish instincts. The irrepressible call of darkness.

“Dear guests!” A voice calls in the main hall.

    I take a few steps into the room filled with evil aura, stopping at a spot where I can easily observe our host. A lady with ink-black curly hair, voluminous enough to cover a scar on her neck, relic of a life spared.

“Welcome to my mansion. It’s a pleasure, a great pleasure, to have been the one chosen this time to let us all gather and feast on the darkest night of the month!” She adds grand gestures to her words, raising her arms covered with long vermillion gloves matching a dress revealing her curves more than necessary, her collar of black lace. “Unleash your demons. Whether you are human or fairy, let evilness guide our exchanges tonight! The Night of the Evil Moon calls for villainies. Glory to the dark path!”

“Glory to the dark path!” The guests echo in one voice.

    And with this, the festivities officially begin.

    All around me, nobles, influential merchants, or enthusiasts of all sorts of dark arts mix with no distinction of rank. Even some ageless figures are recognisable among them. Roaming banshees. Grim fairies whose ties to the noble families they once protected have been irremediably severed.

“Ahh, what a relief to be surrounded by people aware, like me, of darkness’s appeal.” I smirk to myself. “Here there’s no place for good people. Here’s my respite, the proof of my affiliation to the right part of this world.”

    Some guests already join in small groups to discuss their latest shenanigans, others preferring to get a taste of the food served at the buffet. Probably the brightest part of the room, multiple silver chandeliers placed all along the table. The rest of the main hall, on the other hand, offers more proximity to the shadows.

“Welcome to my humble mansion, Duke Luphor. This night wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t grant us your presence.”

    I turn my eyes to the woman now standing a few steps away from me. Her mask is of different shades of black, much like the feathers adorning it. As much as her tone remains devil-may-care, I sense the slight unease in her body language.

“Viscountess Seighpragh.” I address our host, the same one whose mercenaries I requisitioned. “How has your neck been lately? I hope your marks don’t burn you.”

    Ahh the pleasure to remind her of the day she lost her honour instead of her life. Drawing bitterness from old wounds is a hobby of mine, and I would even pride myself on being skilled at it.

    Her silence speaks volumes. Despite her calm smile, there’s a glint of unhinged madness present in her grey eyes. Begging for release yet never finding it.

    The rotten taste of her bloodied pride is but exquisite.

“I hope you have a hellish evening. Enough to distract you from Baron Gallghaid’s escape.” The Viscountess Seighpragh ends up saying. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have to greet the rest of my guests.”

    And with these words, she’s gone, letting me explore the room at ease. Given my reputation, even people present here eye me cautiously, making sure not to shove me when they recognise my evil aura. Unmistakable despite my masquerade mask.

    Despite that… There’s something different in the air tonight. Eyes lingering on me longer than they should dare do. Are they so curious to hear about my recent shenanigans?

    Spotting a familiar silhouette, I approach a man with short blond hair and a raspy beard.

“Ohh? If that isn’t Lucas Hedgwist.”

    Noticing my presence, the man turns to me. Features naturally harsh.

“Good evening, Duke Luphor.”

“How has business been lately? Any new poison to advise me?”

“Steady.” He replies, matter-of-factly. “I’ve indeed been working on a new one, some customers complaining that the current ones are too efficient.”

“Is that so?”

    Hedgwist nods.

“Not enough time to enjoy their victim’s agony, they say.” He pauses. “Do you have a murder planned, perhaps?”

“Don’t tempt me.” I utter with a smile, my hands clasped behind my back. “I might well have somebody in mind.”

“Is it… that woman?”

    The words, oddly vague, make me frown.

“Mmm?”

“I heard some rumours, but I know better than to believe them. Only actions can speak for a man.” Hedgwist resumes as if the subject of the conversation was already clear like children’s tears. “After all, there’s no chance the evil Duke would let a woman sway him.”

    Unease.

“Obviously.” I let out a dry chuckle.

    I grip more tightly the hand against my back. Displeasure.

    I can’t let anyone know.

    A knot where there shouldn’t be. Distraction. A memory I didn’t call for.

“Duke Luphor.” The man interrupts my thoughts, squinting as he glances at the floor behind me. “Seems that you just dropped something.”

    Blinking, I turn my head back, searching for anything on the ground.

    That’s when I catch sight of it. A bluish, soft petal. A flowery sight giving off an excruciatingly c..c*te aura.

“Is that…. Is that a-”

    But before the poison merchant can finish his sentence, horrified by that sight unfitted to the darkness around, I stamp on it with all my might.

    Sudden silence floats around as I lean forward, pretending to check what I flattened, only to discreetly retrieve it.

“A miserable insect which doesn’t deserve our attention.” I utter with a sharp glance at Hedgwist, my words coated with fiery disdain.

“…”

    Slowly straightening up, I readjust my coat.

“Alright, I believe that we both still have business to attend to tonight. Let’s talk again when your new product is ready.”

    Without lingering by his side, I turn away and walk resolutely to the other side of the room, where a glass door gives access to the balcony.

    Luckily, it seems that no one else felt the urge to cool off. Taking a few steps outside, I close the door behind me before approaching the railing.

    Freeing the flower petal from my grip, I observe it with concern.

“It’s the same as the flowers I showed Ambrillia. Where does it…”

    Seized by a doubt, I reach out to take off one of my gloves. Several petals attempt an escape, yet I catch them one by one.

    It doesn’t take more for the pieces to click into place.

    The other day, after Ambrillia collected the flowers, she used the gloves she had stolen from me to carry them, and stuffed them inside… A few petals must have remained there after she gave me back said gloves. Ohh, the cursed gift. For a villain to be seen carrying such… such frail and delicate things… I prevented a terrible scandal.

    Carefully, I make sure to inspect my gloves and hide the flowery threats to my reputation.

“Even when she isn’t corrupting my mind, this woman endangers my place in society…”

    My hands grip the railing tightly as I frown, glancing down the grim hill.

“At least hatred is easy to deal with. A feeling easy to predict, one easy to respond to. Love… is a different beast.”

“Duke Luphor.” A voice calls to cease the dreamery.

“What is it?” I turn away from the railing, recognising my host.

“There’s a guest who requires your presence.”

    I raise an eyebrow.

“And why are you the one coming for me?”

“He already awaits you with a gift. Kind of an… admirer.” The Viscountess Seighpragh adds with an air of mystery. “Let’s not make him wait.”

“Ohh? An admirer, huhh.” I brush my fingertips against my chin before following her lead.

    As we make our way back through the main hall, I notice the atmosphere is even more peculiar than it already was. The attention is turned to me, but not in the usual way, by means of cautious or envious glances. The eyes on me are more numerous, deliberately staring as I approach a man waiting in the middle of the room. A large rectangular object by his side, held in place by two servants. Impossible to guess the exact nature of the curiosity, since it’s veiled by a pale fabric.

“There he is! Duke Luphor, truly a pleasure to meet you tonight.”

    Pausing a good few metres away from the guest likely awaiting me, I take a while to observe him. His grey masquerade mask partly hiding his features, the brownish moustache and short hair don’t give me enough clue as for his identity. Contrarily to the poison merchants, his stature is nothing but common. Although I can’t help but feel that I know the man. The voice… His voice does indeed sound familiar.

“A pleasure, you say?” I utter, rolling the word on my tongue. “Give me a reason to reciprocate, for I’m afraid I have no reason to share your enthusiasm.”

“Of course. Of course, I’ll even make sure that everyone is able to share it.” The unmemorable man utters. “I see no reason, after all, to keep from our friends gathered here a good occasion to laugh.” He pauses, expecting a reaction I don’t care to offer him. “I should admit that I admire your calm. Do you think that you still have your place among us? Many of us have already heard, I’m sure, about the rumours in Oneixium. Well, see, these are no lies!”

    And, as his voice rises, my so-called admirer grips and pulls in a dramatic move on the fabric concealing, until now, a huge painting.

    In the main hall, everyone lets out a horrified gasp.