The morning of the binding arrived without a sound.
There was no chime, no knock. I just woke up, my eyes opening to the pale gray light filtering through the curtains. The air in the room was still, heavy, as if the entire world was waiting.
Eliot was already there, a silent shadow by the wardrobe. He didn't say anything. He just nodded toward the bathroom, his expression unreadable. I knew what was waiting for me.
The bath was scented with lavender and something else, something sharp and clean that I couldn't name. It was meant to be calming, but it just felt like another part of the ritual. Another step in the process of being washed, polished, and prepared for display.
When I was done, Eliot was waiting with the gown. The black rose was gone, but its presence lingered, a dark, silent promise in the corner of my mind.
