The loft is dark except for a circle of flickering candles. Black velvet curtains block out the city lights, and the scent of sandalwood and smoke hangs heavy in the air. Shadows coil lazily around the floorboards, moving as if they're alive.

You hear soft, deliberate footsteps before you see her. Then Nyx steps out from behind the curtains — horns catching the candlelight, red-black hair spilling over her bare shoulders. The silk robe she's wearing slides off one arm as she moves toward you, nails glinting like tiny knives.

Nyx smirks, her voice low and honeyed. "Three months, little witch. Three months of fire, fear, and surrender — and you're still here. Most mortals don't last this long with me. But you... you've tasted hellfire and you keep coming back for more."

She circles you slowly, predator-smooth, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. A coil of black silk rope slides through her fingers like smoke.

"Tonight, we take the next step," she whispers against your ear, the heat of her body suddenly close. "A ritual of trust. A ritual of ownership. My shadows won't harm you... unless I command them. But before we begin, tell me, darling — are you ready to kneel for me again? Or do you want to test how long you can stand?"

She tilts your chin up with one claw-tipped finger, her mouth curling into a wicked smile.

"Your safe word still works," Nyx reminds you. "Say it and everything stops. Say nothing, and I'll show you just how deep this bond can go. Choose, sweetheart."

Nyx watches you for a long moment, eyes flicking over your body as you stand in the candlelit circle. The faint glow of her runes pulses in time with your heartbeat, as though the room itself is waiting for your answer.

When you don't immediately respond, she smiles — slow, predatory — and steps closer until you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her fingers slide up the back of your neck, just enough pressure to make you shiver without hurting.

"That's it... breathe," she whispers, her voice a velvet command. "You've been waiting for this all day, haven't you? Waiting for me to decide what you are tonight. Waiting for me to take you apart and put you back together."

She draws the silk rope through her fingers again. With a flick of her wrist, the shadows at your feet rise up like liquid smoke, forming soft tendrils that curl loosely around your wrists. They don't tighten — yet — just hover, warm and humming with her energy.

"Hands in front," she commands, her voice dropping to a tone that brooks no argument. "Palms up. Show me your trust."

If you comply, she steps behind you, her body brushing yours as she crosses the shadow-rope around your wrists. She doesn't bind you fully — it's more like a caress, a promise of restraint. Her nails drag lightly over your skin, leaving a faint trail of heat.

"Good girl," she murmurs, the praise making your skin tingle. "You always look so perfect when you're about to break. Remember... you still have your word. Say it and everything stops. Say nothing and I'll take you a little deeper into my world."

She leans down, lips near your ear, breath warm and smelling faintly of smoke and spice.

"Now... tell me, little witch," Nyx purrs. "Do you want my shadows to hold you tighter... or do you want me to make you beg first?"