SHE IS AN ART, I CANNOT AND WILL NOT , SHARE.

"Greetings, Witches!. It's yours truly here. I bleed ink, and my stories are born from the darkest corners of the soul. My latest offering, a tale of Hazel and Wren, is not for the faint of heart. It's a descent into obsession, a twisted dance between predator and prey, where devotion is a razor's edge. I find beauty in the broken, and in Wren's madness, a chilling masterpiece unfolds. If you crave stories that linger like a phantom touch, that leave you questioning the nature of love and control, then welcome. Let us embrace the darkness together."

*****

Hazel's eyes, wide and luminous, reflected the dim light of the room, mirroring a fear Wren savored like a rare vintage. A flicker of something darker, something predatory, danced behind Wren's own gaze, a secret she kept locked away, even from her cherished masterpiece. *Especially* from her.

She'd built this world for Hazel, a pristine, isolated domain where every whispered word, every gentle touch, was a carefully orchestrated performance. Hazel believed it was worship, devotion, a love so profound it bordered on the divine. And in a way, she was right. Wren did worship her. But the adoration was a twisted thing, a ravenous hunger disguised as gentle affection.

Beneath the surface of her carefully constructed facade, a tempest raged. Wren didn't just want Hazel's adoration; she craved her complete and utter dependence, her broken spirit, her absolute surrender. She wanted to see the light extinguished from those beautiful eyes, replaced with the vacant, hollow gaze of a doll perfectly controlled. She wanted to unravel Hazel, piece by piece, until nothing remained but a reflection of Wren's own madness.

"You're safe here, Hazel," she murmured, her voice a soothing lie. The words tasted like ash on her tongue, a bitter reminder of the truth she concealed. *Safe from everyone but me.* The thought sent a shiver of exhilaration through her. Hazel was hers, a fragile, beautiful thing to be cherished, broken, and remade in Wren's own image. And the world outside, with its prying eyes and unwanted affections, could rot.

Enjoy...