Elara’s heart stumbled. “What do you need?”
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. missax - do this for me
Slowly, she extended her hand.
Elara’s throat tightened. She had never been able to refuse. Not when Missax asked her to sit for portraits for hours until her neck ached. Not when she asked her to read aloud from crumbling Latin texts she didn’t understand. Not even the night Missax had placed a cold, antique key in her palm and whispered, “Open the door to the east tower, and do not scream.” Elara’s heart stumbled
Elara stood in the center of the library, her hands clasped in front of her. She had been summoned, as she always was, by a single folded note slipped under her door: “Come. I have something for you. —Missax.” Slowly, she extended her hand