The Marge mansion was like nothing before. Black silk banners flew in the air, the driveway was lit up with fire torches, and the orchestra played haunted symphonies behind the curtains. The halls were beaming with ambiance.
Guests walked in, and by the gate, guards checked every invitation and outfit. It was like none other, with a coordinated color: black. With its elegance, it only added another layer of mystery and uprightness to the ball.
It was not the regular kind. No, it was nothing the city had ever seen. The invitations promised an unforgettable night to celebrate the rise of a new era—and what better theme could there be if not masquerade?
Inside the hall, guests, masked, danced on the shiny floors. Chandeliers hung, giving the room perfect lighting.
"If power had a scent, it would be leather, blood, and ambition," Kabir whispered, watching the guests stream in from upstairs.
