The carriage rolled to a smooth halt before towering iron gates that parted without a sound. Beyond them stretched a long, moonlit drive lined with black poplars, their leaves whispering secrets to the night wind. The mansion rose at the end like something carved from obsidian and starlight, elegant, sprawling, and quietly predatory.
She stepped out first, the slit of her dress parting to reveal the long, graceful line of her thigh as she descended. When she glanced back, her golden eyes caught the lantern light and flared.
"Come," she said simply.
No command, no plea, just that single word carrying the weight of inevitability.
I followed.
The front doors opened on their own. No servants appeared. The house seemed to breathe and move around her. Cool marble underfoot gave way to thick crimson carpets that swallowed sound. Chandeliers of black crystal dripped frozen fire overhead. Every hallway curved just enough to feel intimate, every shadow deep enough to hide promises.
