<span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">In the carriage, she fussed over her costume, assuring herself that the full skirt with silver and gold threaded designs was fine, the tight corset with its shimmering silver designs was tight. The bodice of the dress was fitted, the golden thread winking merrily in the light, and her practical slippers were still there. Then she turned her attention to the mask that would grace her face for the night, it was simple, red with silver and gold filigree. It spoke of power, passion, and magic, if one was to read it closely, it was perfect. Dressed in a dress of crimson she gracefully exited the carriage that had brought her to the castle, a gasp forming on lips polished the same color.<br/><br/>The castle was magnificent, truly a work of art, and here she was to spend the night, dancing and mingling with strangers. She smiled, a sparkle lighting up her oddly colored eyes; her birthright, eyes much like the sea her country bordered, her salvation, and damnation. But today, none of that mattered, today she was none other than Kierra Raz, the Dark Secret. She placed her bare hand in the footman's outstretched hand, his rough palm gently abrading hers, and she smiled at him. He blinked, as if startled by it, but quickly nodded, and motioned her forward. Her eyes once again sought the castle, and she moved toward the castle, her slippers making no noise as she glided forward, her every motion calm and serene. <br/><br/>The noise and smells, the cacophony of senses hit her as people swarmed toward the castle, and she stopped for a moment. So many brushed by, men, women, and even a few children, all dressed to the nines. She smiled at a costume another wore, and laughed at  another. Each was different, each so individualized, but take a step back, and everyone was the same. Anonymous, the thought was intoxicating, heady, and even a touch erotic.    So many people, so many names cried out as each was granted entry, but it was the heady undercurrent of magic that truly thrilled her. <br/><br/>Here, she was common, a creature no different from these, for even the common folk had a tad bit of magic in their veins. In her homeland she was the child who people had ostracized and tormented, but had feared as well. If not for the loving hand of her mother, Kierra Raz might have unleashed her own form of retribution a long time ago. But here, she was going to drown in the unknown, give in to indulgences long forbidden, taste the pleasures of this foreign land. And with that affirmative in mind, she strode forward into the crown, her diminutive stature allowing her to fade into the crowd, if only for her gown to flash her appearance.</span>