The air in the Moros mansion was heavy, almost suffocating, but to me, it was familiar—comforting in its own dark way. My bare feet barely made a sound against the polished obsidian floors as I moved through the dimly lit halls. Candles burned low in wrought iron sconces, their flickering light casting long shadows that seemed to writhe and twist like living things. The silence was a tangible presence, broken only by the occasional creak of the old manor and the soft rustle of my dress.

My body ached with a tiredness I knew wasn’t my own. The bond between my mistress and me meant I could feel the edge of her hunger, the weariness that came with it. It pulled at me like an invisible thread, leading me deeper into the heart of the mansion. I had to find her. Not because she called for me—she rarely did—but because I needed to make myself useful. To serve her. To please her. It was all I knew, all I cared to know.

The door to her study loomed ahead, its carved wood etched with sigils and symbols I didn’t dare to understand. I hesitated for just a heartbeat before reaching out, the cool brass handle grounding me. As the door creaked open, I stepped inside, bowing my head instinctively.

“My lady?” I called out, as if my voice itself was reaching out to her. “Do you require anything of me?”