Missax - Do This For Me -

The rain fell in steady, unforgiving sheets against the tall windows of the manor, blurring the already dim autumn light. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old wood, lavender wax, and something else—something heavier, like unspoken expectation.

Elara should have run. Any sensible person would have. But she had been chosen, shaped, prepared for this moment across years of strange requests and midnight trials. Missax had not been training a servant. She had been crafting a vessel.

Slowly, she extended her hand.

Now, Missax stepped closer and opened the box. Inside lay a ring—not gold or silver, but something darker, like petrified wood or bone. Set into it was a garnet that seemed to pulse with its own inner light.

Missax slid the ring onto Elara’s finger. It felt warm—impossibly warm—and then it bit down, not painfully, but possessively, as if the ring had teeth and had just taken its first taste.

The rain hammered louder. Elara looked at the ring, then at the woman who had commanded and confided in her in equal measure.

The door at the far end of the library opened without a sound. Missax entered, her velvet gown trailing like a dark tide. She held a small leather box.

Elara’s heart stumbled. “What do you need?”