Missax’s lips curved—not a smile, but something close to relief. “I become part of the walls. The earth. The memory of the house. You will hear me in the creak of the stairs, see me in the fog over the lake. I will not be gone. I will be everywhere .”
“And if I refuse?” Elara asked, though she already knew the answer. missax - do this for me
The rain hammered louder. Elara looked at the ring, then at the woman who had commanded and confided in her in equal measure. Missax’s lips curved—not a smile, but something close
“What happens to you?” Elara whispered. The memory of the house
No one knew Missax’s full name, or if she even had one beyond that. She was the mistress of the estate, a woman of sharp cheekbones and sharper silences. Her hair was the color of burned copper, and her eyes held the cold patience of a bird of prey. The household staff feared her. The village whispered she had buried two husbands. But to Elara, Missax was simply… inevitable.