Truly, a celebration of a grandeur kind, fit for the most magnificent people. Ashmalor's half-hidden face was decorated with a smile of complacency as his gaze wandered among the crowd of fabulous people that had gathered in his grand ballroom. Everyone was wearing a mask, hiding their identities, but perhaps that would just encourage them to enjoy their time in this night's masquerade as they were free from the burden of their usual faces. As far as Ashmalor could see, this seemed to work, for people were drinking champagne, laughing, dancing; simply having a good time. It was part of the fun and thrill, not knowing the true identity of the other as you would approach them. And tomorrow, they will be just shadows of yesterday. Ashmalor saw beauty in that; he was a man with a fine taste.
Lord Ashmalor was the host of this small-scale festival and he walked among the people like a proud peacock. He knew his worth as a noble man and those around him recognized this as well, greeting him whenever he would pass by, raise their drinking glasses for him and some would even give a slight bow or curtsy out of respect. Ashmalor enjoyed it all, being very much delighted with the masquerade. Whole ballroom was bathed in warm colors, emitted by marvelous chandeliers, crafted by the most skillful craftsmen there were. Such tones gave the space a lively nuance, which only complimented the overall ambiance of the celebration. A very talented pianist was trying his best to bring the most pleasant notes he could produce with his fingers for the guests to relish, filling the ballroom with his music. He performed well, the fact how delighted the people were to dance to his tunes was a clear proof of that. As an instrumentalist himself, Ashmalor was very impressed with the young pianist's work. The lord couldn't help but notice how much he resembled him in his younger days. He wondered where he had managed to find this fine young man.
From the great windows that surrounded the dance hall, Ashmalor had been able to follow the passage of time. When the masquerade had started, the sun had been setting, painting the sky with colors that only the most skilled of artists could imitate. Guests had started to come in when the day was turning into night, as if they were creatures of darkness that would rejoice after the sun went down. Ashmalor hadn't been keeping track of time that carefully afterwards, the celebration had taken his attention almost completely. However, at some point he started to become a little distracted, like something wasn't quite how it should be. He couldn't get rid of the feeling, no matter how much he tried to get immersed with festivities. He had then glanced at the windows, seeing a night sky – just like one would assume. But there was something wrong with it, though he couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly. Once again Ashmalor tried to shrug it off and attempted to enjoy the masquerade. He was holding a glass of champagne as he watched his guests from the side, feeling odd. Then he shifted his gaze at the liquid he was drinking; a sparkling light drink. Absent-mindedly he swirled the champagne in its glass before he took a sip from it. It looked, smelled and tasted like it should, and yet there was something strange about it, too. This bothered Ashmalor greatly.
Once the lord had drank his glass empty and placed it on one of the side tables, he decided to find a dance partner for himself – maybe that would get his mind back on track. He took a dive into the stream of people, becoming one with the flow. A lone maiden came on his way, dressed in a yellow gorgeous dress and was wearing the same kind of mask most of the women had; a well-decorated one that hid the upper half of their face. The woman noticed Ashmalor approaching her, immediately realizing what his intentions were. Her lips curved into a smile and she performed a curtsy for the lord. Ashmalor showed his respect for her by giving a slight bow in return, and after this move, they began to dance. It was like their bodies were intertwined by the music, their movements flawless and elegant. The dance of the lord and the unknown woman soon became the center of attention as a lot of guests stopped momentarily what they were doing and watched them. And for a little while, Ashmalor forgot his little predicament.
But not for long. His perfect dance with the woman he didn't know suddenly started to get filled with imperfections. It started with little things. The woman in front of him was supposed to be flesh and blood, so why did she all of a sudden start to feel cold to touch? Her lips were moving, she wanted to say something to him, but Ashmalor couldn't hear a single word. When the lord tried to make eye contact with her, there was nothing but blackness staring back at him. This darkness began to spill; Ashmalor witnessed how black tears were dripping and staining the woman's cheeks. Profoundly perplexed by these changes in his dance partner, he eventually let go of her and looked around him.
The whole crowd had started to turn just like the woman. Wherever lord Ashmalor would look, there were black eyes staring back at him. He was the host of the masquerade, he was supposed to be the focus of attention, so he didn't really feel bothered by the gazes of blackness. The lips of some of the guests moved slowly, but no words came out of them. And now that he paid attention to it, the piano music had begun to fade as well, veiling the ballroom in silence. Lord Ashmalor couldn't understand what was happening and it seemed like nobody could explain it to him, either. However, he wasn't frightened, just utterly confused. Aimlessly he started to wander among the crowd, all their eyes on him, and he tried to comprehend what was happening. Was this real? Or was this a dream? He attempted to go backwards in his memories, to the moment when the masquerade had started.
The beginning… Where was the beginning, though? Ashmalor soon came to the realization that he had a huge memory gap at the place of time when the celebrations had started. Being completely bewildered, he walked to one of the great windows and looked outside – and all the black-eyed guests gazed with him. The sky was black like void, it didn't appear natural at all; the lord wondered how a human eye could even perceive something as dark as how heaven looked at that moment. Even more unreal it became as the small twinkling lights Ashmalor had assumed to be stars began to fall from the black canvas. One by one they dropped and crashed against the world below and watching this unfold gave yet another puzzling sensation for the lord. Wherever the fallen stars landed, they would make a piece of the scenery Ashmalor saw from the window disappear with them. Little by little the town that surrounded his castle vanished from his reality as if it had never even existed. There was just nothingness.
Except for one thing. A beautiful moon was still in its place in the sky, even though everything else had fallen. Since the rest of the world was gone, it was only natural that Ashmalor's eyes would seek the moon's presence. Somehow the great silvery sphere looked exceptionally magnificent that night and, in his heart, the lord made a wish for the moon, pleading with it to give him answers so his mind could be at ease. And the brilliant orb, the storyteller of the nights and the guide to those who sought understanding of the many mysteries of the world, it responded to the lord's wish and revealed him the truth.
The divine moonlight was like a blessing and Ashmalor closed his eyes. It was the inevitable fate of a mortal man that had now occurred to him. This was his last celebration, the final festivity his grand ballroom would hold. Before his soul would move on, he was allowed to host the masquerade, as a finale of his luxurious life. Ashmalor was grateful for this. He thanked the moon and he thanked the unknown entity who had made it possible for him to enjoy his time just a little bit longer. When Ashmalor opened up his eyes again, he noticed that now the moon was gone as well. In his heart the lord bid the sphere a farewell, for this was possibly the last time they would see each other. He turned his back to the window and met his guests again.
The warm colors that had previously dominated the ballroom were now gone. Everything had taken the tones of dark brown and sickly green; those were the colors the lord associated with the passing of a soul. Perhaps they were now getting towards the ending of the celebration of his life. Every single person in the crowd was smiling at lord Ashmalor, even though their eyes were still black and so were their tears. They were here to say their goodbyes and as the lord began to walk among them once more, he wondered if there was a deeper meaning these guests were secretly holding. Maybe behind those masks were all his hopes and dreams, his plans and ambitions, and melodies he wouldn't be able to play. And yet, he felt like he had managed to live a fulfilling life. And for that life, he decided to give one more symphony.
The young pianist who had earlier delighted the guests with his music was now gone, taking the only sound of the ballroom with him. However, the piano was still there standing on its designated place. It was such an elegant instrument, being completely black except for masterfully crafted golden adornments. Lord Ashmalor walked to the piano and sat down on the seat in front of it, moving gracefully and in a ceremonial manner. He let his hand wander on the piano's surface a little; it felt so smooth to touch. His guests were waiting patiently for him to begin, standing solemnly around the ballroom. Gently the lord put his fingers on the keys and started to play. The dance hall that had remained completely silent for a while was now getting liveliness back into it through the lord's music. He started to play the same melodies as the young pianist had before vanishing, having a striking similarity in skill. Although his guests couldn't speak and express their admiration through words, they could still hear. And so, as the music began to flow in the ballroom, people started to dance once again, as a compliment for the lord's excellent performance.
Lord Ashmalor poured his heart and soul into the music he created with the movements of his fingers, for this was the last time he would be able to play the melodies that someone could hear, even if that someone meant a crowd of shadows that lived in between the realms of the living and dead. But for him, it was enough. He played the most beautiful tunes he had learned during his lifetime, ranging from those he had first heard as a young man to songs he had learned later in life. Music had been his passion ever since he was a little boy, thanks to his father who had shown him the magnificent world of art that lay within the keys of the piano. It was only fitting for Ashmalor to end his time in the world of mortals by a musical performance.
When the lord thought that this little farewell concert was approaching its end, he started to play one more song. It was a piece he had composed all by himself, his last symphony for life. And perhaps, this piece of music could act as a perfect medium for his soul to pass onto the afterlife. As the notes lingered in the ballroom's air, his masked guests started to eventually fade away. Never stopping their elegant movements, one by one the people in the dancing hall took more transparent forms until they vanished from sight completely. In the end, only Ashmalor remained, still letting his music fill the ballroom after the last guest had left him.
Then he stopped. Ashmalor was surrounded by silence. Slowly he stood up from his seat, holding a single thought close to his heart: he was ready. When he instinctively turned around, he was greeted by a foreign figure, someone he hadn't met before and yet, he felt like he had just reunited with an old friend. He was face to face with a tall entity who had their whole body covered by a black cloak. A completely white mask resembling a face of some sort of canine was the immediate center of attention since it stood out so well from the otherwise black mass. The entity didn't utter a single word, instead, they just offered their black hand for the lord. Ashmalor understood perfectly what this gesture meant and he reached out, taking a gentle hold of the creature's hand. The mysterious being then pulled him in a little before they turned to face the opposite direction, guiding the lord to follow them. As they moved, this dream-like reality around them started to collapse, sinking into the void. The lord felt no fear even as his familiar surroundings became nothingness, he knew the entity would guide him to safety.
One must walk the path of darkness before they could bask in the radiance of the nurturing light.
