I wrote this sitting in my room bored and looking at a mask my amazing friend gave me. This story is dedicated to her love ya nay-nay!

Amongst the dancers flitting about there stood a girl. Her dress was a fiery fed infused with orange, yellow, and pink so that every color melded in perfect harmony with each other. Every step she took made the dress shimmer. Embroidered along the dress was dragonfire. So strategically placed was the fire that it brought out every good aspect of the young woman, which was many. Her raven black hair was partly in a magnificent bun infused with jewels. The other part she let fall so that her curls framed her dark-skinned, light boned face. As with every other woman in the room, she wore a mask. The mask was of the same colors as the dress, with yellow framing her deep chocolate brown eyes.

Stepping lightly across the dance floor, tantalizingly unatainable to every man in the room, who watched her every move. She feels their gazes furrowing into her and laughs silently to herself.

How little they knew! It was all a masquerade. In truth she was beautiful, yes. But how could they know her real strength, her determined courage? They couldn't, noone here could.

The clock chimed eleven. She smiled to herself once again. It was time to leave.

She walked into the courtyard, barely hearing the whispers about her as she left. The courtyard was huge, and luckily so.

 In the middle was a statue of a man atop a rearing horse. She sneered at the likeness of the statue to that of the actual king. The beloved king. He put on a good show, she could not blame the people for loving him. But her and the others of her kind, who were thought to be extinct, knew the truth.

 She was of the dragon spais. They were an ancient people, who learned the dragon's language and befriended them. They lived coherently with the normal humans, having officials in the governments to represent them and were peaceful. But they were also feared. Especially by King Doholomahn. He feared them more than anything else. He believed they would try to take over if there came to be too many of them. So he tried to exterminate them. They put up a spectacular fight but there were too few of them. The king's soldiers had thought they killed them all. Most had died bitterly. But they did not know a handful of them had escaped into the desert.

It was there in the desert that Annalisa was born. It was their headquarters. She had spent her first seventeen years of her life there. There were only about one hundred spais and one hundred and twenty dragons left. Their plan was trickery, to decieve and infiltrate.

 That is what Annalisa had been there to do tonight. It was her strong point, discovering weaknesses and mannipulating them. The subjects attending the ball were the closest to the king. Mostly his advisers. Annalisa had been finding which of them could be, ahem, replaced, by their own agents.

She had done her job well. Now it was time for her to go. Noone could see into the courtyard. She took her knife from the folds of her dress and slit along the seams for riding.

Then the dragon landed in front of her. He was her most trusted companion, a fantastic huge creature of a shimmering silver with electric blue eyes. She smiled, greeted him, jumped atop his back and they were gone.

The End

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