Whatever's about to happen, there's no backing out now.
The gathering of the Order of the Arcane defies everything I know about logic… and physics… and parties on a whole. I'm fairly certain we walked through a normal forest at the side of a country lane, but the space we step into stretches upward toward impossible darkness, the ceiling of night sky and stars lost somewhere beyond comprehension.
Floating orbs drift lazily overhead, golden globes dancing to project intricate runes and swirling constellations rooted in some ancient language or sect.
Gossamer walls flutter in the background, creating a pentagonal boundary that stretches around us on all sides. The sheer fabric of the translucent walls shifts in color like abeautiful oil slick shimmering on water, never quite settling on a single color.
It's mesmerizing.
Two figures flank the elaborate floral arbor set just inside the entrance. Their skin is that of weathered stone, textured and mottled in shades of gray, and they each have a set of wings that are gathered against their backs, hovering well over the spiked horns on their bald heads.
Gargoyles are a race of supernatural beings I’ve never seen before. I’ve heard they are quite secretive and aggressive.
Perhaps that makes them effective as event security.
As we approach, one blinks at me with bulbous green eyes. "Invitation."
Vale produces a blue business card from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and hands it over. The sheen on the magical card gleams faintly with a silver script that seems to shift and dance across its surface.
Then, as the gargoyle takes possession of it, the words coalesce and burst off the card, taking the form of an iridescent Morpheus butterfly.
The gargoyle sniffs, then nods us through.
I'm still watching the butterfly flutter up to join dozens of others when Vale gives my elbow a tug. "Are you still with me?"
"Yeah, that was just way cooler than anything I remember the witches doing."
He chuckles. "Even growing up an Emberwood Elite, you can still consider yourself new to this world, Poppy. There are a great many wonders of the empowered world you have yet to discover."
Vale dips his chin as we navigate the outer edge of the attending crowd, acknowledging the curious gazes of a few of the lookie-loos who seem to be checking me out.
The aesthetic of the dress code makes it seem as though these people raided a Victorian gentleman's club and a circus simultaneously.
A woman in a Mediterranean-blue tailcoat and top hat glides past, her dress beneath ebbing with the rush of waves and the spread of white froth as the waves crash.
A man nearby sports a burgundy velvet jacket with tails that trail the floor, his cravat held in place by a pin shaped like a tiny dragon that actually breathes smoke.
Another guy—a seven-foot-tall hulk of a man with moss-green skin—wears head-to-toe emerald brocade with so many buttons and chains I'm dizzy just looking at him.
Everyone's dressed to the nines in ways that make my celestial corset look downright conservative.
Magic thrums through the air like bass notes I feel in my bones. Witch magic smells like petrichor. Warlock magic crackles warmly against my skin. Shifter magic flows cool and predatory. But there are others here too—powers I don't recognize, some that shimmer like starlight, others that taste of wild honey and ancient forests.
But I don't recognize a single face.
"Canapé, Lady Hallowind?"
I turn to meet the gaze of a wood elf carrying a silver tray that smells faintly floral and warm—almost like summer air after a light rain.
I cast an inquisitive glance at Vale, and he gives me a reassuring nod. “If something is to your liking, feel free.”
"Okay… sure. What are these?"
"Moonblossom honey & charred fig crostinis,” the server replies.
"They smell amazing." I take one of the little bruschetta-adjacent appies and examine it more closely. The moment I'mfocused on what it is, an information box pops open and text shimmers in the air over the server's tray.
Toasted black-sesame baguette rounds topped with whipped chèvre, flame-kissed figs, and a slow drizzle of moonblossom honey. Finished with a single shard of candied rosemary for crunch.
