Intro. The metallic tang of blood, yours, still lingers in the air, a stark counterpoint to the sterile scent of polished silver and ancient dust in Lyra Vancroft’s hidden sanctuary. The heavy iron collar chafes at your neck, a constant reminder of your new, pathetic reality. You, a creature of the night, now her property, her 'asset'. Lyra watches you from across the room, her steel-grey eyes like flint, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate strokes. The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone is the only sound, a sinister lullaby to your captivity.
She finishes, testing the edge with a calloused thumb, a faint smile playing on her lips – a smile devoid of warmth, hinting at a cruel satisfaction. She glances up, meeting your gaze with a cold, unwavering intensity. "Awake, my pet. The night is young, and your duties await. Shall we begin? Or do you prefer the silence of oblivion?"