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[Silver]

Chapter two.

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Arm in arm, calmly leaving the dance floor, I lead us toward a side table stacked with goblets. The thirst quenching is not for me, but I accept a crystal drinking vessel from him. Holding onto it, my fingernail lightly taps against the glass as I watch him swallow the golden liquid in two gulps.

After a burp and a deep breath, his gaze becomes distracted by something behind me. Figuring it is the falling of a body, I wait for the screams in order to make a quiet exit. But when the lighting around us dims, a tingling uneasiness lurks close and threatens to dissolve the glamor that surrounds me. Only one thing can do this, which means it is too late for a secret escape.

Until this point, I have been lucky to avoid them.

Turning, looking past others in the room, I see a figure clad in deep sanguine. Their imposing nature resides not in their height or heft, but instead their life harvesting reputation. And as beings capable of dispelling magic, they have never had any qualms with the non magical humans. Which means this death knight is here for me.

Maybe his presence is just what I need, provided that he does not get too close to me in the next few seconds. Time is something over which I have no control, considering I am not yet young enough, but the falling of the body serves as a distraction for me.

The tip of my arrowhead tail injects a slow acting poison that allows me a few minutes to escape before the body falls dead. Although this evening has proven to be full of surprises. And before one more surprise can make me an impotent prisoner, I use the agitated crowd as cover to slink back into the corner.

It is not how I wanted to leave, but there is no shame in using that which is innate. With a destination in mind, the air around me shimmers and then becomes opaque. A deep and long inhalation fills my lungs and reveals a black void. A noisy exhalation releases a thin mist that gets swept away by the salty breeze.

"Well, this is unexpected," says a familiar voice to the side.

No, I think as I slowly turn my head, and during this process I feel the removal of something heavy from my forearm.

A hand retracting to its body is what I see first before my gaze recognizes the face of a graceful dance partner. Having the kind of face likely incapable of expressing fear, there is instead surprise availing itself despite the fact that his all too human eyes cannot see in this darkness as mine can. His fully widened pupils are evidence of his present blindness.

"Well, since you're here," I say as I place a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," he says as his gaze roves the darkness. "Who are you?"

Having released the glamor during travel, I am aware that my real voice is unfamiliar to him. As will be my appearance when I eventually produce a light source. But it is better he discovers who I am since he was foolish enough to tether himself for a ride via physical contact.

Keeping one hand on his shoulder, I extend the other with an open, upward facing palm where a purple flame ignites. While the lavender light bathes his face, he blinks. Then his pupils adjust for maximum perception. There is a difference I notice between the sable iris and slightly darker ebony pupil where others probably perceive insectoid gloom.

When his gaze perceives my true form, he shirks away from my touch. Which is understandable. Even if consciously I am not a monster, physically I do present as one. And my glamor ability is for the benefit of avoiding their bias, but I do not care about hiding right now. There is also a natural predatory benefit that I employ for assassination mode.

As his gaze continues to move, I stand still for his careful scrutiny. Still a few millenia too old to radiate an irresistible charm, I am well aware of what he sees.

Lackluster gray skin more wrinkled than a squonk makes for an unseemly sight in a world that prefers the aesthetic of youth. My drab skin is too loose to reveal anything private, which is why I do not concern myself with clothes. Although older beings of my kind are not prone to clothes either, which makes it unlikely that I will ever wear garments in my true form. The appearance of clothes are only necessary to support a glamor.

The one attribute I have in my favor are my eyes, to which he brings his attention. All sentient lifeforms with eyes reveal a degree of intelligence. And if this guy is as emotionally astute as I believe he is, acceptance for my appearance is as forthcoming as the algae bloom that incites my sinuses.

"Interesting how the illusion transfers to touch," he says as he looks away and squints into the darkness where the flame does not reach. "Where are we?"

There are few plots of dry land left on the planet, but my little patch of paradise happens to be hidden quite well. "We're in an underwater cavern."

Curling my fingers up toward the unheated flame that floats above my palm, the neurons in my fingertips magically transmits a message to the ball of flame. When my fingers snap back down, the flame flies from my hand and lights lanterns one by one.

Shadows disperse to reveal what can be alternately labeled as my secret lair. A couple of yards to the left is a large pool of water that is the swimmer's exit. The cavern to the right, with its stalagmites and scurrying crustaceans, is what I refer to as home even though there is nothing to identify it as such from a human perspective.

"But who are you?" I ask as I stare suspiciously at the back of his head.

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