Page 36 of Magic in My Bones

“Oh Ren, that's perfect!” Luca gasped. “The color will look amazing with your eyes and the cut is so dashing. You have to try it on!”

Mathilda handed me the coat and shooed me towards the changing room. “Go on now, let's see how it looks.”

I stepped into the velvet-curtained changing room, my heart fluttering with anticipation as I slipped on the emerald coat. The luxurious fabric settled over my shoulders like a lover's caress, the silk lining cool and smooth against my skin. I buttoned the gleaming gold buttons with trembling fingers, hardly daring to breathe as I turned to face the full-length mirror.

My eyes widened as I took in my reflection. The coat fit like it was made for me, emphasizing the lean lines of my body and making me look taller, more refined. The rich green hue brought out the warm undertones in my skin and made my dark eyes appear even more intense. I hardly recognized myself.

With reverent fingers, I traced the intricate gold embroidery that twined along the edges of the coat. The thread glimmered in the muted light of the changing room, forming delicate vinesand leaves that seemed to dance and shimmer with each breath I took. It was like wearing a piece of art.

The embroidery wasn't just decorative. I could feel the whisper of enchantment woven into every stitch. Tiny protection runes had been worked into the pattern, nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for. When I traced them with my finger, they warmed slightly under my touch, responding to my necromantic energy. Even Grim seemed fascinated, his antennae twitching as he investigated the magical threads.

I emerged from behind the curtain and Luca let out a low whistle. “Damn, Ren! Look at you!” He circled me slowly. “Professor Dorian won't know what hit him.”

“Luca!” I hissed, shooting a mortified glance at Mathilda.

But the witch just chuckled, her eyes twinkling knowingly behind her spectacles. “Your friend is right, dear. It suits you.”

“We'll take it,” Luca declared, fishing out his wallet. “Along with that mask there, the one with the gold scrollwork.”

Mathilda plucked an elegant half-mask from a display and held it up to my face. The mask was a deep, burnished gold that perfectly complemented the embroidery on the coat. Intricate spirals and whorls were etched into the metallic surface, catching the light and throwing back glimmers of fire. I traced a finger over the delicate designs, marveling at the artistry.

“A perfect match,” Mathilda said with satisfaction. “You'll be the talk of the masquerade, mark my words.”

Luca paid for the costume, waving away my protests. “Consider it an early Samhain gift,” he said, pressing the wrapped parcel into my hands. “Every dryad needs a devilishly handsome companion, after all.” He struck a ridiculous pose and I couldn't help but laugh.

Luca grinned, giving me a playful nudge as we stepped back into the cool, crisp air of Ebonshire. “Professor Crowe won't be able to take his eyes off of you.”

I shot him a glare, but the playful teasing only made my stomach flutter. I hadn’t expected to feel so... different in the costume. There was something about the fit, the weight of the mask, that made me feel more confident, moremyself, than I had in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, this masquerade wouldn’t be so bad after all.

14

The Phantom's Waltz

Dorian

I adjusted the whitemask that covered half my face and stepped into the grand ballroom of Blackstone Academy. The masquerade was already in full swing, with students and professors alike crowding the dance floor.

The grand doors had been enchanted to release tiny bursts of silver sparkles whenever someone entered, like walking through a cascade of starlight. The effect was both elegant and eerie.

Even the usual school ghosts had dressed for the occasion, their translucent forms adorned with echoes of their finest attire from centuries past. They waltzed through the solid guests, leaving trails of spectral frost in their wake.

The ballroom was a sight to behold, transformed into an enchanting realm of wonder and whimsy. Someone had enchanted the refreshment table to offer each guest their perfect cup of tea, the silver teapots dancing through the air like elegant ballerinas. The vaulted ceiling soared overhead, painted with a mural depicting skeletons waltzing with maidens in flowing gowns, their bony hands clasped together in an eternal embrace.Candelabras floated in midair, their flickering flames casting an otherworldly glow upon the revelers below. The guests were dressed in a dazzling array of costumes, from ethereal fairies with iridescent wings to dapper vampires in crimson-lined capes. Everywhere I looked, there was something to delight and astonish the senses.

The air was thick with the scent of spiced pumpkin and mulled wine, mingling with the heady aroma of incense and the crisp tang of fallen leaves. Enchanted jack-o'-lanterns grinned from every corner, their carved faces flickering with an eerie inner light. A ghostly orchestra played hauntingly beautiful melodies, the ethereal strains of violins and cellos weaving through the chatter and laughter of the crowd.

I paused to admire an intricate ice sculpture depicting a grinning skull, its hollow eyes seeming to follow me as I moved. Nearby, a table groaned under the weight of a sumptuous feast of caramel apples, pumpkin pasties, and a towering cake in the shape of a mausoleum, its fondant doors open to reveal a raspberry filling as red as blood.

As I marveled at the macabre splendor of the Samhain masquerade, a familiar voice called out to me.

“Professor Crowe! Dorian! Over here!”

I turned to find Professor Reedy gliding toward me, dressed as an Egyptian queen. Her elegant white gown was adorned with intricate gold embroidery, and a jeweled headdress glittered upon her brow. By her side trotted her faithful familiar, Mrs. Nesbit, the goat's horns adorned with gleaming bangles.

“Mina! You look positively regal,” I exclaimed, bowing deeply. “And Mrs. Nesbit, charming as ever.”

The goat bleated softly in response, her intelligent eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Ah, the Phantom of the Opera,” Mina said, taking in my costume. “A fitting choice for you, Dorian. Both brilliant men, shrouded in mystery, with a flair for the dramatic.”

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