Blood Spilled on a Ballroom Floor

Eros spun around in front of the mirror, watching her reflection closely. Her dress swirled around her feet like a pool of water, but the jewels on it glistened like blood. The bodice was black and hugged her torso, leading down to her waist before ending in black lace. The dress reached down to the floor and trailed a couple of feet behind he wherever she went. It was dark red and splattered with rubies. 

“How do you like it?” Eros knew that Austin wasn’t concerned about her opinion, like many people were, rather, he craved validity for his work. She was glad to give him it- when he deserved it, of course. 

“It’s very pretty. The colors are perfect.” 

Austin echoed her smile. “Thank you. You have the mask, too?” 

She held it up: a simple black mask that would cover her upper face. It had black roses sprouting from the edges and a layer of silver paint around the eyes, trailing down to the bottom of the mask like tears.

“You’d better get ready quickly, Austin, our carriage is coming soon. We wouldn’t want to be any more than fashionably late.” Austin nodded and exited the room. 

The Blood Moon Carnival was the biggest in all of the country of Sanguis. All of the kingdoms might have been bickering like little children lately, but the Blood Moon Carnival was a time to bring the kingdoms together and remind them of what mattered most: their pride in being born a Sanguis citizen. 

There was music, dancing, parades, and most importantly, the Blood Moon ball. This year, it was taking place in the kingdom of Vitrum, in the castle that was visible from the windows of her house. There it was, she could see it now: the silver castle of Vitrum looming high in the sky, its biggest tower lost to the clouds. And everyone in all of Sanguis was invited. 

Except, of course, for those born without magic. 

“How do I look?” Eros turned around, grinning at the sight of Austin’s fashionably tousled hair, his suit sprinkled with blue, purple, and pink gems, and the obsidian sword hanging from his waist. His mask looked like the sky: dark, swirling purple dotted with pinkish clouds. 

“Oh, Austin, you look just gorgeous. If only...” the words that came afterward need not be spoken; Eros dated women and Austin dated men. It was a mutual understanding between them that they were to remain friends, and nothing more than that. 

He chuckled. “If only.”

You see, both Eros and Austin had been born without the gift of magic. So had countless others who were now sick of being trampled by the shoes of those who did have magic.

Magic was passed down from kin to kin. As the legends say, everyone in the world descended from the Nature Goddess and the Storm God, who both had powerful magic, enough that they could destroy the earth with a single snap of their fingers. The magic got diluted as more people were brought into the world, but some forms still remained powerful. However, only three thousand years after the Goddess and God had created the first humans, an evil creature was born, and his name was Lucifer. He was born without magic despite both of his parents being magic-born, and he was evil to his very core. From then on, children began to be born without magic even though their parents were born with the gift. They were perceived as spawn of the devil and therefore underneath the magic-born as a species.

What better time to show their true feelings, the bitterness and disgust towards the magic-born, than at the biggest carnival ball in all of Sanguis? Around two hundred citizens from all over Sanguis were going to gather tonight and show the world the answer to the question that had been debated for centuries: do people born without magic deserve an equal place in society? 

The two linked arms and strode outside, happy to find that the carriage was already waiting for them. The carriage driver, a man named Mateo, often was denied work because of his non-magical bloodline, but he was one of the best drivers in the kingdom. His pegasi pawed at the ground anxiously and flapped their wings, as if even they knew what was coming. 

Not two seconds after the door had clicked shut behind Eros, the pegasi were off. She stared out of the tiny window, watching the purple sky fade into a soft blue as night loomed before them. The two moons hanging up above were already visible, and so were the stars that twinkled around them. 

“What a beautiful night to die. I do think that we’re doing them a favor, hmm?” she turned to look at Austin, who nodded in response. 

“Especially with that lovely glass ceiling in the ballroom. If we don’t finish the job off efficiently enough, they might even have time to do some stargazing.” 

They sat in the quiet content. Most of the guards would be taken out halfway through the night when a particularly pretty girl name Emilie would go around to each of their posts and offer them a drink (“Certainly just a single glass of wine wouldn’t hurt, now would it?”) that would soon show itself as poison. Before anyone would have time to notice, the non-magic-born would attack.

Those that proved quick to kill would be killed, but some would certainly try and use their magic. However, each greatest strength comes with a weakness. For magic, it was simple: obsidian. It shut down the power immediately and left magic users without their gift for up to hours, depending on the amount used. Everyone working with Eros and Austin had been gifted obsidian weapons: she had two obsidian knives under her bodice and one tucked into her hair. 

Oh, and her mask was obsidian as well. The edges were as sharp as any sword, and she would be able to use it as a weapon in a pinch. It would be a shame, though, considering that it was such a pretty mask. 

Austin really had outdone himself, and she made sure to tell him- not only because he truly deserved it, but also in hopes that it would calm any nerves that needed calming before the ball. 

Finally, the carriage landed. The pegasi whinnied as Eros and Austin stepped out of the carriage, waving to Mateo as they did so. 

They were let in without a moment’s hesitation. That was the funny thing about separating those born with magic and those that weren’t- you couldn’t tell unless someone used their magic. By the underworld below, a magic-born could be mistaken as someone who didn’t have magic so long as they didn’t show their powers. 

It was a bit of a shame, because it was a wonderful ball. The decorations were stunning, the wine was otherworldly, and the music was so rich that it seemed to reach into your soul and beg you to dance. All evidence of what wealth could get you. 

Eros danced with Austin for a while, then Emilie, and when she had to leave to fulfill her part of the plan, she spotted a young lady wearing a pure-white dress standing by herself, so she set out to change that. 

Unfortunately, she had to kill the lady. She spotted Emilie’s signal from the corner as the guards crumpled to the floor, and with one hand still around the lady’s waist, she reached up and pulled out the obsidian knife from her hair. 

The girl didn’t realize that she was dancing with death until Eros slit her throat. 

The ball erupted into chaos. Screams sounded from different parts of the room, each weaving into the beautiful melody of violence- and revenge. Eros let Cecelia’s limp body fall to the ground and then darted to the perimeter, pulling out another knife and stabbing anyone who tried to escape. She wasn’t on perimeter duty, though. She had a much more important job: killing the king and queen. 

They had decided to keep themselves unguarded so as to enjoy the ball without any interruptions. Because who would ever try and kill the rulers of Vitrum at a ball? They were foolish leaders, drunk on power, wealth, and the love that their subjects had for them. 

They were now regretting their decision, sitting pale-faced on their thrones and shrieking for someone to help. However, all of the castle staff was gathered in that ballroom, and therefore most of them had met their doom. 

Eros strode forwards, plowing down people as she went. A particularly violent man had landed a blow before she could kill him, and scarlet red dripped down from her nose. Another one was carrying a knife of her own, but she still didn’t stand a chance against Eros. 

She went further still, past the people charged with writing their message to the world on the walls of the ballroom: “We don’t need magic to survive”. Simple, to the point, and it would tell everyone exactly who conducted the attack. One of her knives sunk deep into a man’s gut while the other twisted into a woman’s heart. No one would leave here alive. 

She carried no guilt on her shoulders in taking a magic-born’s life. How many lives of people born without magic had been taken when they had been denied food, drink, or a place to sleep? At least she made these deaths quick. 

Three heartbeats, three souls to the underworld, and then she was in front of the king and the queen.

“D-don’t kill us, p-please!” the king wailed, past the point of dignity. “We’ll do anything! We will never mistreat one born without magic ever again!” 

A smile formed on her lips. “An empty promise is worth less than one not spoken at all.” 

“Please! Please! I swear! On the Storm God! On the Nature Goddess! Plea-,” his cries were cut short by the sound of gurgling as Eros slashed her knife across his throat. More of the dark red substance bubbled up by the corner of his mouth and trickled down, catching the light of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

The queen hadn’t moved one inch, petrified by the fate that lay before her. Eros would rather not bother with even making her way to the throne; she slipped her mask off and let it soar, aimed at the queen’s heart. 

In less than a moment, the last queen of Vitrum was dead, and so was everyone else in the ballroom. She went to retrieve the mask, surveying what they had accomplished, knowing at the same time that they were nowhere near the end of their quest for justice- for revenge. 

Eros stood amidst the graveyard, the war of revenge that they had won. The message that they had sent to the world. 

A warning. 

She stood, her arms slick with blood, her mask in her hand dripping the same red tears: the unfortunate blood spilled on a ballroom floor.