The air in the grand hall was thick with unspoken tension, heavy like the velvet drapes that suffocated the last sliver of evening light. Eve stood before her family, a slight figure dwarfed by their imposing shadows, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Her mother, Lady Beatrice, her face a mask of cold disdain, gestured towards the hulking, cloaked figures waiting by the ornate oak doors.

"Take her," Lady Beatrice's voice was a brittle whisper, laced with triumph and malice. "She is yours, as per the agreement. Our debt is settled."

Eve's brothers, standing beside their mother, offered no comfort, only smirks of relief. She felt a cold dread seep into her bones, colder than the draft from the opening doors. The cloaked figures moved with an unnerving silence, their presence chilling. One reached for her arm, his grip surprisingly gentle, yet firm, pulling her towards the looming darkness outside. This was it. The end of one torment, the beginning of another, far more terrifying. She was being sold to the Master.