“Hear ye, hear ye. You are invited to the Royal Masquerade Ball!

Join us for an extravagant evening of song and dance, of feast and merriment.

Will you be the talk of the town as the loveliest lady of the hour,

Or will you turn heads in horror as a foul abomination reeking of rotten flesh and ichor?

The choice is yours, but be there, and beware!”

 

Sahtra finished reading the letter aloud and folded it back up, placing it on the wooden cabinet. It had been delivered on fine parchment and sealed with the gilded emblem of Stormwind.

 

“A masquerade ball, eh? Can’t say I’ve ever been fond of attending one,” he stroked his blue beard in thought, “though there are rumors of foul activity surrounding the event. I suspect that is why we were invited; the King would not want to draw unnecessary attention by sending us a letter calling for help only to have it intercepted.”

 

Mori sat on the bed, intently listening to the death knight. She had never been to a masquerade ball, though it was a common form of celebration among her people. Despite the potential gravity of the situation, however, the young blood elf was still excited for the event.

 

“We need to buy costumes, right?” she asked, “When is the ball anyway?”

 

“Two days from now,” Sahtra replied, “Come, let’s pick out a nice dress for you.” He rose from his chair and put on his cloak and helm.

 

Mori climbed off the bed and put on her shoes, following him out the door. “What are you going to wear, Sahtra?”

 

“It’s a secret. You’ll see in time.”

 

And find a dress they did. It was Mori’s favorite color, a deep purple, lined with golden lace and cream-colored frills. The long sleeves fit her arms perfectly and the shoulders and skirt puffed, giving the dress an antique look. The young necromancer decided it was lacking in the appropriate décor, however, so she sewed several small skulls onto the sash at the waist and the ribbon at the neck.

 

The time left until the masquerade ball had felt like an eternity. Mori had been dying of curiosity at Sahtra’s choice of costume, but he had insisted on keeping it a secret! Now, three hours before the start of the event, the death knight had instructed his ward to put on her costume as he retreated into his room. Mori finished putting on her dress and sat impatiently in front of the closed door.

 

“Are you done yet?” she called out, “I want to see your costume!”

 

“No, little one, be patient.” Muffled sounds of plate armor being disassembled and placed onto the floor escaped through the crack in the door, and Mori pressed a long ear to it, hoping to pick up any clues as to what the death knight had chosen to wear. Discerning none, she pouted as she sat back up, her dress puffing up where her hands did not compress the inner layers.

 

After what felt like hours, Mori heard Sahtra’s voice. “You may come in now.”

 

Finally! The young blood elf stood up with a jolt and hastily reached for the doorknob. In a clumsy attempt to open the door as quickly as possible, she misstepped and slipped on her dress, landing on the wooden floor with a hard thud.

 

Ouch, Mori winced, that hasn’t happened since my robe got fixed!

 

“Careful, little one,” Sahtra playfully teased, “don’t get so excited that you hurt yourself.” His voice sparkled like the grin spread across his cold face.

 

Mori scowled, getting back on her feet, and, this time, successfully opened the door. There, Sahtra stood as she had never seen him before. He was not wearing armor, no! Not of metal, not of dragon bone. He donned instead a laced white shirt, brown cotton pants, and black leather boots. The death knight (though Mori thought he hardly looked like one anymore) wore a thick knee-length black coat lined with golden buttons and a pair of matching red sashes around his waist and top of his head, underneath his feather-adorned black tricorn hat. Over one shoulder, he sported a red cloak, and on the other, a gilded human skull attached to the harness that carried his weapons on his back. On his face, Sahtra wore a mask, a black skull, and on his hands, pristine white gloves that hid the bloody history of the conflict they had seen.

 

“Well, what do you think?”

 

Mori blinked twice before answering, her breath taken away by how well this costume seemed to suit him.

 

“You look really nice!” she finally answered, swallowing a lump of fear rising in her throat as she approached him, “I didn’t know you would dress up as a pirate! A really…scary…ghost pirate!” The young blood elf struggled to maintain eye contact with her guardian as he stared down at her from above.

 

The death knight sat down on the bed, his costume making no noise save for the quiet clink of the two swords strapped to his back. That was certainly unusual, Mori thought, as his armor normally creaked at every slight movement.

 

“I used to think to myself that one day, I would travel the sea on my own ship,” Sahtra began, resting his masked chin on his clasped hands, “exploring unknown places, breathing the ocean air, enjoying my own company, perhaps that of some ale.” His eyes, glowing brightly, darkened. “Undeath changed that, however,” he continued, “but I do not regret it. I cannot regret it.” Mori shifted uncomfortably as the black mask stared silently at her.

 

“I am glad you like my costume,” Sahtra stood back up, “and you look quite lovely yourself, little one. You’re just missing one thing.” He reached into the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a skull identical to the one he wore on his face save that it was white and slightly smaller. “Here is your mask.” He held the object out to Mori with his gloved hand.

 

The young blood elf took the mask from Sahtra with her bare hands and stared nervously at it for several moments. She looked up at the death knight.

 

“Do I…have to put this on?”

 

“Of course, little one. It is called a ‘masquerade’ ball for good reason!” The death knight laughed. “There’s the mirror. Tell me if you need help attaching it.”

 

Mori turned the mask around and walked up to the mirror. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and placed the mask snugly on her face, tying the top ribbon behind her head. The cold material sent a chill down her spine, and as Mori involuntarily opened her eyes, she caught her reflection in the mirror and cried out, startled.

 

“Mori! Is everything all right?”

 

The young blood elf turned away from the mirror and looked up at the death knight, whose blue eyes radiated concern. “I’m…this mask…,” she reached up with her small fingers and touched the skull, her hands shaking as she felt the hard bone instead of her soft skin, “it scares me. I don’t…want to look at it…at me.” She hid her masked face in her hands, the inanimate material jarring to the touch.

 

Sahtra knelt in front of Mori and gently removed her hands from her face. “I know not why it scares you, little one,” he spoke gently, “but remember that the skull is a part of you. It is a part of us.” He placed his thumb and middle finger at the base of his own mask. “It is a decoration,” he continued, “an object of curiosity and horror to many, but to you and me, the skull is a reminder of who we are and the powers we command. And one day, you know, you will become a lich, and the skull will be more than just a figurative representation of yourself. It is best to get used to it now, don’t you think?”

 

Mori thought for a few moments and nodded, her green eyes glowing through the eye holes. It had been difficult enough getting used to Sahtra’s skeletal helm, but even that object had become a treasured, comforting sight with time.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied quietly as she lowered her head, suddenly feeling very silly, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Sahtra chuckled, lifting her chin with his finger, “Now, turn around so I can tie the bottom ribbon. There we go, good girl.” He secured it just tightly enough that the mask would not fall off Mori’s petite face. “How does it feel? I had requested a smaller one made just for you.”

 

The death knight held the young necromancer’s hand as she twirled around to face him again. “Pretty good, actually,” she answered, and it really did. The mask was surprisingly comfortable, she thought, she did not believe it would leave behind any imprints or cuts on her skin.

 

“Excellent,” he stood back up and straightened his coat, “are you ready to depart?”

 

“Yes!” Mori was once again absorbed in the anticipation of going to an exciting new event, and she looked up at him eagerly with her fists clenched.

 

“Very well, out we go,” Sahtra picked the folded invitation up and placed it in his pocket, “You can even hold on to my cloak as you usually like to do.”

 

Mori had been in the middle of instinctively reaching out for the fabric draped across Sahtra’s shoulder but froze midway as she registered what he had just said. Her cheeks reddened, though their change in coloration was graciously hidden behind the white mask.

 

“You didn’t think I had noticed, silly child?” the death knight laughed, “Don’t worry, I know your face is bright red under there right now, too!”

 

“Hey!” Mori burst out, much to Sahtra’s amusement, then grunted as she clasped his cloak. The two exited the inn, and they were in high spirits for the rest of the evening. Mori and Sahtra were going to a masquerade ball – for the very first time!