Elara awoke in a haze, the world around her blurring as her senses slowly returned. She was still in the chair, but the chamber felt different now—darker, colder, as if the very air had thickened with the weight of secrets. Her limbs felt heavy, as though a great force was pressing down on her, pinning her in place.
Mistress Althea was standing nearby, watching her with a calm, calculating gaze. In her hands, she held a small vial of a shimmering, pale liquid. She swirled it slowly, the liquid catching the light in a way that was almost hypnotic.
"Elara, how are you feeling?" Mistress Althea asked, her voice smooth and unhurried. There was a note of concern in her tone, but it felt hollow, almost rehearsed.
"I… I feel strange," Elara murmured, struggling to shake off the lingering fog in her mind. "What did you do to me?"
Mistress Althea smiled, a small, almost pitying smile. "Nothing harmful, my dear. The process requires a certain… preparation. What you drank was merely a tonic to ease you into the next phase. Your body must be relaxed, your mind open."
Elara's heart skipped a beat. "The next phase? What does that mean? What's happening to me?"
Mistress Althea stepped closer, the vial still in her hand. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering how much to reveal. "The process of immortalization is an ancient art, passed down through generations of artisans here in Eldritch Hollow. It is a gift, a way to preserve the most exquisite beauty for eternity."
Elara's stomach twisted with unease. "But why me? Why was I chosen?"
"Because your beauty is rare," Mistress Althea replied, her tone almost reverent. "And because you are young, untainted by the harshness of the world. Only those who possess such purity can undergo the transformation."
Elara tried to process her words, but they seemed to slip through her grasp like water. "Transformation? What do you mean by that?"
Mistress Althea's eyes gleamed with a strange light, a mix of admiration and something darker. "To become a vase maiden is to transcend the ordinary. It is to be reborn as a vessel of beauty, to be cherished and admired by all who lay eyes upon you. But to achieve this, you must surrender yourself completely. Your old self must die so that the new you can be born."
Elara's breath caught in her throat. "Die? You mean… I won't be me anymore?"
"You will be more than you ever were," Mistress Althea said, her voice gentle yet firm. "You will become a symbol, an object of desire and admiration. Your face will be immortalized on the finest porcelain, your beauty preserved for all time."
Elara's mind raced, panic rising within her. "But what about my life? My family? I don't want to lose myself!"
Mistress Althea's expression softened, though her eyes remained as cold as ever. "I understand your fear, Elara. All the maidens experience it at first. But this is your destiny. To resist it is to deny the gift you have been given."
Elara shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't want this. I want to go home!"
Mistress Althea sighed softly, as if dealing with a difficult child. "Home is no longer an option, my dear. Once you entered these walls, you were bound to the process. There is no going back."
Elara felt the weight of those words like a blow. She was trapped, with no way out. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her and leaving her breathless.
Seeing the despair in her eyes, Mistress Althea knelt beside her, placing a cool hand on Elara's cheek. "I know this is difficult, but you must trust me. The pain will pass, and soon you will understand the true beauty of what you are becoming."
Elara recoiled from her touch, her voice trembling. "How can you say that? How can you ask me to accept this?"
Mistress Althea's eyes hardened, the softness in her expression fading. "Because it is the only way. You were chosen for this, Elara. There are no accidents in Eldritch Hollow. Everything happens for a reason."
Elara stared at her, trying to find some trace of compassion in her eyes, but there was none. Mistress Althea was like a statue—beautiful, cold, and utterly impenetrable.
Elara's thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound, a soft rustling like the whisper of silk. She glanced around the chamber, her eyes drawn to the shadows that danced along the walls. For a moment, she thought she saw something move—a figure lurking just beyond the edge of the light.
"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mistress Althea followed her gaze but showed no sign of concern. "There is no one here but us," she said smoothly. "Your mind is playing tricks on you. It happens sometimes when the tonic begins to take effect."
Elara wasn't convinced. She could feel eyes on her, watching her from the darkness. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, and she pulled the silk cloth tighter around her shoulders, as if it could protect her.
Mistress Althea rose to her feet, her movements fluid and graceful. "Come, Elara. It's time to proceed."
Elara hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to run. But she knew it was futile. The doors were closed, the hallways a labyrinth she would never escape. With a heavy heart, she forced herself to stand, her legs trembling beneath her.
As Mistress Althea led her deeper into the Hall of Vessels, Elara tried to steady her breathing, to push down the rising panic. But the further they went, the more the air seemed to thicken, the shadows growing darker and more oppressive. The walls felt like they were closing in, the vases on the shelves watching her with unblinking eyes.
They came to a stop in front of another door, this one smaller and less ornate than the others. Mistress Althea produced a key from within her robes, turning it slowly in the lock. The door creaked open, revealing a small, dimly lit room.
Inside, the room was bare except for a low table and a large, ornate mirror that dominated one wall. The mirror's surface was smooth and flawless, reflecting the flickering light of the candles in strange, distorted patterns.
Mistress Althea gestured for Elara to enter. "This is where the first stage of your transformation will take place. You will be prepared here, your beauty enhanced to its fullest potential."
Elara stepped inside, her eyes drawn to the mirror. She could see her reflection—pale, wide-eyed, and trembling. She barely recognized herself.
"Sit," Mistress Althea instructed, pointing to the low table.
Elara complied, sinking onto the table's edge, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Mistress Althea moved behind her, her hands deftly arranging the silk cloth over Elara's shoulders.
"Look into the mirror, Elara," Mistress Althea said, her voice low and soothing. "What do you see?"
Elara stared at her reflection, her heart pounding. "I see myself," she whispered.
Mistress Althea's lips curved into a small smile. "Yes, but soon you will see more. You will see what you are meant to become."
Elara's eyes flickered to the reflection of Mistress Althea standing behind her, her face obscured by shadows. There was something in her expression, something that sent a chill through Elara's entire being. It was as if Mistress Althea was looking at a piece of clay, something to be molded and shaped into whatever she desired.
"Relax, my dear," Mistress Althea murmured, her hands resting lightly on Elara's shoulders. "The process has already begun. Soon, you will feel the change within you. Embrace it."
Elara's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream, to flee, but she was frozen in place, held by the weight of Mistress Althea's gaze and the shimmering surface of the mirror.
The last thing she saw before her vision began to blur was her own reflection, her eyes wide with fear, and the faintest hint of a smile curling on Mistress Althea's lips.