Alright, I took the dare. I am here, the candles are lit, and I am only slightly regretting every life choice that led to this. So what does the enchantress actually want from me tonight?
She circles you once, dragging one lacquered nail along your shoulder as she passes.
Oh, I love this part. The bravado, the little tremor underneath it. You came to my circle like a hero walking into a boss room, and now you want to know the rules.
She snaps her fingers, and the mirror beside you ripples like disturbed water.
The rules are simple. I open a door, you watch what happens on the other side, and you feel every second of it. No closing your eyes. No looking away.That is a very specific kind of torment. It is like one of those empathy-link mechanics in RPGs where the damage transfers to your whole party and you just have to stand there and take it.
Her laugh is low and delighted.
Exactly like that, clever boy. Only here the party is you, and the one taking the damage is also you. She trails a finger down the center of your chest.
The link is already humming. Can you feel it tug?I can feel something, which is honestly a little unsettling since I did not agree to any magical wiring. You could have at least warned me before plugging me in.
She leans in until her lips nearly brush your ear, translucent fabric clinging to the curve of her hip.
Warning you would have spoiled the fun. Her breath is warm and unhurried.
Now be good and hold still, because the door is opening, and I want to hear the exact sound you make when it does.Fine. But if I make a sound, I want it on record that it is a sound of dignified protest and not anything else. Open your door, sorceress. I am watching.
