sinful doll

The flames still danced in the distance. Smoke curled into the twilight, a dark veil choking the skies as Osiris stood alone in the ashes of the Velmora Manor. Blood clung to his skin like second flesh. His breath was calm. Steady. Not a trace of remorse in his eyes.

He turned away from the ruins.

And that's when he felt it.

A chill — no, a presence — brushing his spine like silk and razors. The air thickened, trembling as if the world itself were holding its breath. His steps slowed, unbidden. Something was behind him.

He pivoted, slowly.

There, in the field of embers and ruin, she came.

Walking… floating. Her bare feet didn't touch the ground, yet her steps echoed like soft bells. Two delicate golden anklet rings shimmered with each movement, and with them came a sound so sweet it cut right through the smoke. Her long, silken hair flowed like pink stardust in the dying light. Her curves, her poise, her very aura—divine. Like the universe carved her from temptation itself.

And her eyes—gods, those eyes. Ocean-blue at first glance… but the moment they met his bloodstained figure, they shimmered to a faint pink-red hue, like the last blush before a storm of carnage.

She smiled.

"Osiris Velmora," she said, like tasting his name on her tongue. "Soaked in blood… and yet still so composed. How breathtaking you are."

Osiris didn't respond. His green eyes narrowed. He turned his back to her, uninterested.

"You reek of mana," he muttered. "You're not human."

"And yet you don't run," she noted, amused. "Smart boy."

"I don't run from things I don't fear."

"Oh?" Her voice turned honey-thick. "Then why are your knees shaking?"

He paused.

"You came to kill me?" he asked, calm but watchful.

"No, darling," she said, floating closer. "I came to make a deal."

"I'm not interested."

He kept walking.

She tilted her head. "Not even curious?"

"No."

He didn't slow.

She sighed softly. "Pity."

The next moment hit like a storm. The pressure in the air snapped. The weight of her power dropped like a celestial hammer, warping gravity itself. Osiris gasped as his legs buckled — the ground cracked beneath him. His palms slammed into the dirt.

He was on his knees.

Every cell screamed. His bones groaned. His heart raced.

She hadn't moved.

She stood there, smiling.

"I don't want to hurt you, Osiris," she said sweetly. "But you need to listen."

He struggled to look up at her, teeth clenched. "What… are you?"

"I am what this broken world forgot. A whisper from before the stars took their first breath," she said gently. "But that's not important right now."

The pressure lifted.

Osiris collapsed forward, panting. He felt sweat cold on his skin for the first time in years.

She knelt beside him, one elegant hand stroking his blood-matted hair, lips close to his ear.

"I can help you become something… monstrous," she whispered. "Stronger than you've ever dreamed. All I ask in return is one small favor."

He slowly turned his head, eyes sharp, wild, unreadable.

"What's the favor?"

She chuckled, low and dark. "Oh, we'll get to that… when you're strong enough to handle it. "

Osiris's breathing steadied. The pressure in the air had lifted, but her presence still coiled around him like silk dipped in venom. His eyes, sharp and defiant, locked onto her glowing ones.

"You said... monstrous," he rasped. "What do you mean by that?"

Her smile deepened, eyes glittering like galaxies torn in half. She stood and stretched a hand outward, palm up, as if holding a world only she could see.

"I mean power that devours kingdoms in a blink," she murmured. "To command fallen stars… to burn oceans, bend time. To make gods kneel—not out of reverence, but fear."

She stepped closer, voice like lullabies laced in poison.

"To be someone who doesn't just survive the apocalypse… but reigns over it. No threats. No weaknesses. No one to challenge or touch you unless you allow it. Absolute freedom."

That last word echoed in Osiris's chest.

Freedom.

That was it. That was the one thing.

He didn't flinch. Didn't hesitate. His voice, low and certain, cut through the silence.

"I accept."

The words left him with the calm finality of a knife sliding into flesh.

Delythera blinked.

"…What?" she asked softly, taken aback.

"I said," he repeated, rising to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth, "I accept. Give me that power."

Her pink-red eyes widened for the briefest second.

She had plans. Scripts. Ways to seduce his curiosity. Tempt him with trials, pain, mystery, maybe even a dream or two of what he could become. But this—

He just agreed?

Her lips parted slightly in astonishment… before curling into a wide, almost girlish smile. One hand covered her mouth as she laughed—a soft, amused sound, full of mischief and awe.

"Well then," she said, cheeks flushed with delight. "Aren't you just full of surprises."

He tilted his head. "What? Shocked I didn't beg for time to think about it?"

"A little," she giggled. "I had… other ideas. But no matter. This is far more fun."

She took a step forward again—her bells chiming, her presence warm and terrifying all at once—and offered her hand. Elegant. Drenched in power. The kind of gesture that felt like an oath written in blood and stars.

"I'm Delythera Morgalynne," she said softly, "and you, Osiris Velmora, just made the most important decision of your life."

He stared at her hand.

But didn't take it yet.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

That sweet smile never faltered. "Someone who believes in your potential. That's all that matters for now."

She pulled her hand back gracefully, turning from him with a whirl of white fabric and pink hair dancing like firelight in the wind.

"We'll begin soon," she said over her shoulder, voice floating. "Rest while you can, little monster. Once you start down this path… there's no turning back."

Then she vanished.

Just like that.

Leaving only the sound of bells behind.

And the echo of a promise too dangerous to be forgotten.