The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Selene stared down at the steaming cup of tea in her remaining hand, the golden liquid swirling gently. Her metal hand rested in her lap, its sleek, dragon-like form reflecting the soft light that filtered through the open shutters. With a sense of bewilderment, she slowly opened and closed the hand, marveling at the way it moved seamlessly, almost like a natural extension of her body.

"How... how is this working?" she wondered aloud, unable to keep the curiosity from her voice. The tea's aroma was rich and sweet, hinting at the honey used in its preparation. She knew that Honeytail, when not cooked properly, could be poisonous, but Poca had assured her it was safe.

Poca glanced up from her tome, her mismatched eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Ah, zat is a good question, ma chère," she said, her accent thick and melodic. "Zis craft is my passion, you see. I am fascinated by ze blend of life and earth magic, life magic specially advanced into ze nature tier to become wood magic."

Selene nodded slowly, her mind racing with questions. "I've heard of puppeteering before, but I know so little about it," she admitted.

Poca murmured under her breath, her fingers tracing the lines of a spell in the ancient book before her. "It is okay," she said reassuringly. "Puppeteering is a rarer affinity, after all. It is not something many people understand."

She closed the tome and leaned forward, her excitement evident. "Puppeteering, as I said, is a mix of life magic and earth magic. When you advance far enough, it evolves into wood magic. Zis allows us to create and animate puppets, to give life to zat which was never alive. But it is more zan just creating. It is about connecting, binding our essence to zat which we create. Zis arm, for example," she gestured to Selene’s metal hand, "it is not merely a piece of metal. It is infused with life magic, bound to your very soul."

Selene listened intently, sipping her tea and nodding. "I've only ever heard of one puppeteer, though... his name was Geppetto, I think?"

Poca's eyes lit up with delight, and she clapped her hands excitedly. "Oui! Geppetto! He is my father! A madman, yes, but a genius as well. He taught me everything I know." She paused, her expression growing wistful. "He was misunderstood, as many great minds are. But his work... his work lives on through me."

Selene made a mental note to keep an eye on Poca. Geppetto's reputation was known to her—brilliant but unpredictable. She didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned by the connection. "So, how long has it been since you found me?" Selene asked, trying to piece together the timeline of her recovery.

Poca’s expression turned serious, and she glanced at Selene with concern. "It has been four days, ma chère," she said softly.

"Four days?" Selene nearly choked on her tea, her eyes widening in shock. "I've been out for four days?"

"Oui," Poca confirmed. "You were in bad shape when I found you. I did what I could to stabilize you, but you needed time to heal. And now, you are awake and on ze mend."

Selene looked down at her torn rags, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over her. She needed to bathe, to wash away the grime of her ordeal. All this time, she had been neglecting to truly examine her new arm, and now she felt both curious and apprehensive.

Poca seemed to sense her hesitation and leaned forward, her eyes eager. "So? How does it feel?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation. "You must start moving it, see how natural ze bond is."

Selene took a deep breath and nodded. She carefully lifted her metal hand, watching the intricate scales and runes glint in the light. The fingers moved smoothly, each joint articulating with a precision that felt almost surreal. She reached for the cup of tea with her metal hand, her real hand steadying it. To her surprise, the metal fingers wrapped around the cup with ease, lifting it to her lips. She took a sip, a sense of joy bubbling up inside her.

"That's amazing," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe. "I can actually feel it."

Poca beamed with pride. "Yes! Ze bond is new, weak, but it will grow stronger. You must take care of it, nurture it."

Just as Selene began to lower the cup, her metal hand twitched unexpectedly, causing her to spill the hot tea over her leg. She gasped in pain, the cup falling from her grasp and shattering on the floor.

"Ah, mon dieu!" Poca exclaimed, rushing to Selene’s side. "Are you alright? I am so sorry, I should have warned you about ze adjustment period."

Selene gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the pain. "It's okay," she said through clenched teeth. "It’s just... a bit of a shock."

Poca quickly grabbed a cloth and began to dab at Selene’s leg, her movements gentle and precise. "You will get used to it," she said soothingly. "Ze bond is still forming. There will be mishaps, but you will learn to control it. I will help you, I promise."

Selene nodded, her mind still reeling from the incident. She looked down at her prosthetic hand, feeling a mix of frustration and determination. But Poca’s touch was gentle, almost tender, as she dabbed at Selene’s leg with the cloth. The sensation was both soothing and disconcerting, a confusing blend of comfort and intimacy that Selene wasn’t sure how to process. Poca's fingers, cool and soft, moved with a practiced ease, cleaning the spilled tea without a hint of hesitation. Selene’s leg tingled where Poca’s hand lingered, her touch sending shivers up her spine.

“Zere, zat is better, no?” Poca said softly, her voice a comforting murmur. Selene could feel the warmth of Poca’s breath on her skin, the proximity of the puppeteer making her acutely aware of her own vulnerability.

“Y-yeah,” Selene stammered, trying to mask the nervous quiver in her voice. She watched as Poca moved to clean up the broken cup, her movements fluid and graceful. The puppeteer’s naked form was a testament to her confidence, her lithe body moving with an unselfconscious ease that Selene found both admirable and unsettling.

Selene tried to get up to help, not wanting to sit idly by while Poca cleaned up her mess. Her feet hit the floor, and the world wavered as if she were submerged in water. Her hand shot out for the nearest support—a bed, table, whatever it was Poca was letting her use and steadied herself. Silvery white hair fell into her face, obscuring her vision, but she could still see the lower half of Poca’s body approaching to help stabilize her, once more.

“Non, non, ma chère, you must rest,” Poca said, her tone both gentle and firm. Selene felt Poca’s hands on her waist, midsection, and arm, almost pulling her into an embrace. The puppeteer’s hands were everywhere, her touch both grounding and disorienting.

Selene tried to right herself, her discomfort mingling with an unexpected sense of...was it obligation? Or did she enjoy Poca’s touch? The puppeteer had little respect for boundaries, her hands casually resting on Selene’s knee or waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Selene, on the other hand, valued her personal space. Yet, here she was, allowing Poca’s hands to roam freely.

Was it the obligation she felt for Poca saving her life, or something deeper? Selene had only ever been close, truly intimate, with one other person in her life. Always fighting, always struggling, love had seemed a distant dream. Now, in the midst of all this confusion, the sincere connection she yearned for felt within reach, triggered by the soft, reassuring hands of the puppeteer.

The room steadied around her, the world ceasing its spin. Selene leaned against the table, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling within her. Poca continued to speak, her voice a soothing balm to Selene’s frayed nerves.

“You were on ze brink of death when I found you,” Poca explained, her brow furrowed with concern. “Drowned, nearly out of blood, heavily damaged from ze rapids...” Poca's eyes moved from Selene's and moved the top of her head. Selene's throat was suddenly tight and her tongue thick. She swallowed, but she could not dislodge the lump that had formed there.

Selene’s heart pounded in her chest as she reached up to touch her horns, her fingers trembling. One horn was still intact, but when her hand found the other, she felt the cracked tip. Pain throbbed through her skull, a reminder of her vulnerability. A demon’s horns were connected to both the skull and the soul—a weakness never revealed, for it could mean the end of their kind.

She wanted to collapse, her mind reeling. Poca steadied her once more, her hands a lifeline in the midst of Selene’s turmoil. Healing a demon’s horn wasn’t a quick process; it would take weeks, perhaps longer. The truth was harsh and unyielding—Selene had nearly died. If it weren’t for Poca, she would be dead.

Selene’s eye twitched as she looked over the naked puppeteer once more, trying to understand the eccentric person who had saved her. Poca’s mismatched eyes, her stitched-together appearance, all pointed to a complex individual with her own secrets and motivations.

Poca’s touch remained gentle as she steadied Selene, ensuring she was stable before turning back to clean the shattered glass. It was as if nothing had happened, the puppeteer’s focus shifting seamlessly from one task to another.

Selene watched in silence, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The room around her came into sharper focus—the shelves lined with limbs, the full-body mannequins, the intricate runic carvings on the wooden and metal parts. It was a workshop of wonders and nightmares, a place where life and magic intertwined in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend.

The tea’s warmth lingered on her tongue, a reminder of the honey and herbs that had soothed her throat. The golden hue of the liquid contrasted with the black metal of her new hand, a hand that moved with a life of its own. Selene moved slowly, her new hand resting on her lap. She flexed the fingers, marveling at how smoothly they moved. It felt...real.

Selene found she could move around, albeit very slowly. Each step was a challenge, her body still weak and unsteady. She glanced at Poca, who was now tidying up the mess of the shattered cup. "Can I go bathe or something?" Selene asked, her voice hoarse but determined.

Poca’s eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously. "Oui, oui! You must feel much better after a bath." She disappeared into another room for a moment and returned with a tunic that looked like it was made of vines and leaves. She handed it to Selene, who took it and held it up in front of her, one eyebrow raised.

"I've never worn a tunic before," Selene remarked, examining the natural-looking garment.

Poca playfully peeked around the tunic, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, you do not 'ave to start now, ma chère. You can join me in ze au naturel state." She gave a small twirl, her bare body glowing in the soft light.

Selene blinked. She scanned Poca’s face for any sign of innuendo but found none. Poca seemed genuinely sincere, her suggestion born out of her own comfort rather than any hidden agenda. Selene shook her head slightly, amused by the woman’s eccentricity. Selene paused, actually considering it for a moment, but then shook her head with a small smile. "For now, I think I'll stick with the tunic," she said, knowing that the rags she wore would make better cleaning cloths than clothing.

Poca shrugged, clearly unbothered. "As you wish." She then seemed to hesitate, her playful demeanor shifting slightly. "Ze bathhouse... it is by ze river."

Selene just nodded, not seeing the issue, but then Poca’s frown deepened. "Non, not by ze river... it is ze river."

Selene sighed, resigned to the situation. “It’s fine, let’s go.”

Poca quickly tried to reassure her. “It is safe, I promise! Zere are barriers and a cinder stone for warmth!”

Selene’s patience was wearing thin, but she simply nodded. And it only seemed to get worse. After her first couple of steps, it was clear she wouldn’t be able to make it on her own. Poca’s hands were firm and gentle, always ready to support her. Despite their constant contact, there was no sense of impropriety; Poca’s touch was purely functional, though excessively intimate.

As they walked, Selene marveled at Poca’s seemingly endless supply of energy and enthusiasm. The puppeteer’s light blue skin was exposed to the world, her bare feet making no sound on the forest floor. She nearly carried Selene through the trees, her movements fluid and graceful.

Poca filled the silence with her chatter, her accent making every word sound like a song. “I have been living out here for some time now, just a couple of hours outside of Valarian. I took over my father’s house and live with my puppets. Weekly, I journey into ze city for supplies. It was on one of zose journeys zat I found you, ma chère.”

Selene, using the time to steady her breathing, asked, “Your father. Was he really the mad man the legends claim?”

Poca’s face softened, a mix of sadness and fondness in her eyes. “Oui, he was both mad and brilliant. Geppetto was his name. He was ze most talented puppeteer of his time, but his genius drove him to madness.”

Selene, though blunt by nature, tried to be sensitive. “What was he like?”

Poca sighed, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “He was a man of great charm and even greater madness. He once built an entire orchestra of puppets, each one capable of playing a different instrument perfectly. But zere were times when he would lock himself away for weeks, consumed by his visions.”

Poca continued, sharing small stories of her father’s brilliance and insanity. “He made me a puppet once, a small bird zat could sing. It was ze most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It sang like a nightingale, its voice so pure and perfect. My father was a genius, ma chère. But his genius was also his undoing. I think zat is why he taught me how to build puppets, how to connect to zem and bring zem to life. He wanted someone else to carry on his legacy, someone who could share his gift with ze world. Ze good without ze madness, you see?"

Poca's eyes misted over as she spoke, a mixture of fondness and sorrow. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "But one day, he took ze bird apart, saying he needed ze parts for a greater creation. I cried for days, but he did not understand. He only saw ze potential in ze pieces, not ze beauty in ze whole."

The conversation continued as they approached the river, the sunlight filtering through the trees in dappled patterns. Selene felt the tension leave her body, soothed by Poca's gentle touch and animated stories. There was an energy, an enthusiasm, to Poca that was infectious. As they reached the river, Poca guided Selene to a secluded spot. The riverbank was lined with smooth stones, and a cinder stone sat nearby, emanating warmth. The water looked inviting, clear and cool, with a gentle current that promised to wash away the grime and fatigue.

Poca helped Selene sit on a large flat stone, then knelt beside her, still chatting away. “My father, he believed zat sacrifices were necessary for greatness. I suppose I have inherited zat belief, but I hope I am not as...zealous as he was.”

Selene listened, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She watched as Poca moved around, preparing the makeshift bath with practiced efficiency. The puppeteer’s hands were never idle, always in motion, always creating, fixing, or adjusting something.

Finally, Poca turned to her, her eyes bright with excitement. “Ze bath is ready, ma chère. Let me help you.” She spoke gently as she moved into the water.

Selene stood at the river’s edge, feeling more exposed than she ever had before. Poca, already in the clear water, watched her patiently, waiting for her to join. Selene’s hesitation grew, an unusual feeling for someone feared in the streets of Valarian. She had faced countless dangers, yet now she was scared of getting naked in front of a woman who seemed to care only for her well-being, not for anything else.

With a deep breath, Selene shrugged off the black cloak, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Everything she wore reeked from days of wear and tear. Slowly, she removed the shredded fishnet shirt, her breasts coming free as she instinctively caught them. She glanced up at Poca, who watched with patient indifference. There was no lust, no temptation, only concern and care.

Selene felt a throb in her skull as her horn brushed against a branch behind her. She winced but quickly recovered when Poca asked if she needed help. Determined, Selene pulled off her boots and pants, leaving her in her fishnet undergarments. Biting her lip, she slid those off too, one arm straddling her breasts and the other covering her intimate bits.

She couldn’t understand why she was acting this way. She was known for her fierce demeanor, threatening to wear her enemies' skulls as armor. Yet, now, she felt incredibly vulnerable. Her toenails, like her fingernails, ended in slight points, but otherwise, she was similar to a human. Her soft skin and shapely figure had always drawn unwanted attention. Her large breasts and wide hips, the curve of her rear, were a source of both pride and frustration. The way men and women alike looked at her with lustful gazes made her skin crawl.

But Poca just smiled, holding out her hand to help Selene into the water.

Tentatively, Selene stepped into the river, the coolness sending a shiver up her spine. As she moved, she felt dizzy, her body still weak from her ordeal. Poca’s hands were there, steadying her, guiding her deeper into the river. Once they were both submerged up to their waists, Selene was handed the SoapStone, a rough, grainy stone that foamed in the water, producing a fragrant lather. It only took several moments of scrubbing before Selene's head began to spin, her stomach churning with nausea.

"Are you alright, ma chère?" Poca asked, her voice heavy with concern. Selene nodded weakly, trying to control the sickening sensation.

"Y-yeah," Selene managed to say, her voice shaky and strained. Poca looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Here, let me," Poca said, taking the SoapStone from Selene's grasp. Selene relented, her body trembling from the effort. She was too weak to fight back, and besides, she couldn't deny that Poca's touch felt soothing. Poca started at Selene’s neck, working the SoapStone in small circles, creating a rich lather. “You will feel much better after zis, I promise,” Poca murmured, her voice soft and soothing. She worked the soap into Selene’s skin, the roughness of the stone perfect for exfoliating without causing pain.

Selene closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her. Poca moved to her shoulders, scrubbing away the grime and dirt that had accumulated. The injuries from the rapids were still healing, and Poca's touch was careful and gentle, avoiding the tender spots. A tingling sensation spread through Selene's body, the soap leaving her skin feeling clean and refreshed. Moving down to Selene’s arms, Poca cleaned each finger, ensuring no spot was missed. Selene marveled at the feeling of being cared for, something she wasn’t used to. Poca’s touch was firm yet kind, making her feel safe in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Lean back a bit, ma chère,” Poca instructed, supporting Selene as she tilted her back to wash her chest. Selene felt the soap glide over her breasts, her skin tingling from the sensation. Poca’s hands were methodical, not lingering or showing any sign of indecency. She washed Selene’s stomach next, her touch light and gentle. Tenderly avoiding the bruises and wounds, Poca ensured every inch of Selene was scrubbed clean.

“You have been through much,” Poca commented, her voice soft. “But you are strong.”

Selene didn’t respond, her mind too occupied with the sensations. Poca moved to her lower body, scrubbing her hips and thighs. The way the stone moved over her hips, her legs, the way the soap glided across her skin—it was a luxury she had never experienced. Poca was thorough, her movements gentle yet efficient. The puppeteer massaged her thigh, rubbing the soap into her skin with the palm of her hand. She moved higher, reaching the crease between her thighs and pelvis, the stone moving in small circles. Still, there was no hint of wrongdoing, Poca's focus solely on the task at hand. She was thorough, making sure every inch of Selene’s skin was clean. The tunic she had been offered lay forgotten on the riverbank, the leaves and vines looking almost out of place against the stark reality of her situation.

Poca’s hands moved down to Selene’s lower legs, washing each knee and calf with care. She didn’t rush, taking her time to ensure that Selene felt as comfortable as possible. When she reached Selene’s feet, she scrubbed the soles and between the toes, her touch gentle yet effective. Poca's hand gripped her heel, holding it firmly as she worked the stone over the top of her foot. Selene couldn't remember the last time someone had treated her with such care, and it was overwhelming. Her emotions were a whirlwind, and she found herself closing her eyes and fighting back tears.

Selene’s body started to feel lighter, the grime and filth being washed away along with the weight of her recent experiences. She opened her eyes and looked at Poca, who smiled warmly, her eyes filled with genuine care.

“Zere, you are much better now, yes?" Poca asked, her voice full of concern.

Selene nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this, how much she needed to feel cared for. Poca’s kindness was unexpected but deeply appreciated. As Poca helped her rinse off the soap, Selene felt a sense of peace settle over her.

“Thank you,” Selene whispered, her voice barely audible.

Poca smiled, her hands stilling for a moment on Selene’s shoulders. “It is my pleasure, ma chère. We all need a little care now and zen.”

Selene took a deep breath, feeling the cool river water wash over her clean skin. She glanced at Poca, who was now rinsing the SoapStone. The puppeteer’s blue skin glowed in the fading light, her dark hair cascading down her back.

“Why did you help me?” Selene asked, her voice stronger now. “Why go through all this trouble for a stranger?”

Poca looked at her, her mismatched eyes softening. “Because, ma chère, we all need help sometimes. And I believe zat helping others helps us as well. It is a way to grow, to learn, and to become better.”

Selene watched as Poca finished rinsing the SoapStone then helped her step out of the water, the cool air brushing against her damp skin. She slipped into the nature tunic that Poca had given her. The tunic was an intricate weave of leaves and vines, surprisingly silky to the touch. It clung to her form in a way that was both modest and revealing, highlighting her curves while offering a sense of comfort. Her boots were soaked, so she decided to walk barefoot back to the house, intending to dry them by the fire later.

Poca walked beside her, her arm around Selene’s waist to keep her steady. The walk back was silent but not awkward. Selene found herself reflecting on her recent ordeal. If she hadn’t had her horns, whatever she hit her head on during her tumble through the rapids would likely have killed her. A damaged horn was no joke among demons; it was a weakness many didn't survive.

Upon returning to the house, Selene caught sight of herself in a mirror. She stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she took in her reflection. The nature tunic held her form beautifully against her ash-colored skin. Her one intact black horn curled back, strong and unbroken, while she avoided looking at the damaged one, fearing the void essence stored at the end might be compromised. Her white hair fell in soft waves down her shoulders, with her pointed ears slightly poking out. The black mithralite arm with its draconic features contrasted sharply against her dark skin, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. She felt like an undead nymph, a goddess of the underworld. She felt... beautiful. Her purple eyes with white pupils reflected back at her with a mix of awe and disbelief.

Poca stood beside her, watching her reaction. “Ze arm is made of Mithralite,” Poca explained, her voice soft but filled with pride. “It is a legendary metal, revered for its unparalleled strength and lightweight nature. Forged through ancient techniques, it is as light as a feather and stronger zan ze hardest steel.”

Selene's voice trembled as she asked, “But why? Why give up such an arm of value to a stranger?”

Poca’s mismatched eyes softened. “I want to know you, Selene. To understand what it means to be a demon.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “By putting so much of my life experience into zis arm and giving it up to save your life, it counts as a sacrifice needed when I face ze wall at level 55. I also gain XP as ze bond between you and ze arm grows.”

Selene glanced at the arm, flexing her new fingers. She felt the strength and precision in the movements, a testament to Poca’s craftsmanship. “You mean you know what sacrifices will need to be made to break through the wall?” Selene asked, absorbing the information. She knew of the wall, a point where most people hit a plateau in their abilities. But she wasn't aware that one could know what sacrifices needed to be made ahead of time, let alone do them early.

Poca nodded, her expression earnest. “Oui. It is a rare knowledge, but knowing and preparing for ze sacrifices is crucial. Doing zem early can make ze breakthrough easier.”

Selene tilted her head, going over what Poca had just said. “But what do you mean by the bond growing? How does that give you XP?”

Poca smiled, her voice taking on a teacher-like tone. “Ze hand has a life of its own. It is bonded to you, Selene. Think of it as a familiar, like a puppy. It grows with you through your bond. Ze stronger your bond, ze more XP we both gain.” She said with a nonchalance that didn’t seem to match the importance of her words.

Selene hid her fear behind a calm façade. She glanced down at her hand, feeling a strange sense of unease. “So, it’s not just a prosthetic...”

Poca nodded, her eyes filled with enthusiasm. “Exactement! It is a part of you now, and as you grow stronger, so will it.”

Selene’s mind raced. The arm, a masterpiece of mithralite and magic, was not just a replacement but a living entity bonded to her. She had never heard of such a thing, and the implications were both thrilling and terrifying... Mostly terrifying. The realization that her new arm was more than just metal and magic caused a profound sense of alarm to settle in her stomach.

Poca’s voice softened, sensing Selene's discomfort. “Do not fear, ma chère. Zis is a gift, one zat will aid you in your journey.”

Selene nodded, trying to hide her fear. “Thank you, Poca. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Poca smiled warmly, but Selene’s mind continued to race. She stared at the arm, feeling a creeping dread. The arm moved with her thoughts, but the idea of it having its own life and bond was terrifying. She had never felt so vulnerable and uncertain. The knowledge that her arm was no longer just a piece of metal, but something with its own power, was overwhelming.

As she observed Poca, Selene couldn't help but see the madness in her eyes, the same madness she had heard about in the legends of her father, Geppetto. The puppeteer's fervor, her obsession with her craft, mirrored the stories of her father's genius and insanity. It was both fascinating and frightening. Poca’s passion for her work, the way she immersed herself in her creations, reminded Selene of the fine line between brilliance and madness.

The realization that Poca shared her father's traits sent a shiver down Selene’s spine. She wondered if she had made the right choice in trusting this woman. Poca’s eccentricity, her disregard for personal boundaries, and her unorthodox methods all pointed to a deeper obsession that Selene couldn’t fully comprehend.

Poca continued to talk excitedly about the arm, but Selene's thoughts were elsewhere. She flexed her fingers again, feeling the smooth, cool metal respond to her command. The bond between her and the arm was undeniable, but the knowledge that it was alive in its own way filled her with a sense of unease.

Poca's voice brought her back to the present. “You will see, Selene. Ze arm will respond to you, protect you, and grow with you. It is a partnership, one zat will make you both stronger.”

Selene forced a smile, trying to push down the anxiety swirling in her chest. “Thank you, Poca. Truly.”

Poca returned the smile, her eyes twinkling with genuine warmth. “It is my pleasure, Selene. We are in zis together now.”

Selene nodded, feeling a mixture of gratitude and deepening unease. She knew she owed Poca her life, but the thought of her arm being more than just a limb was unsettling. The madness in Poca’s eyes, reminiscent of her father's, added to her growing anxiety. She flexed her fingers again, watching the draconic scales shift and move with her thoughts. It felt like hers, but the knowledge that it had its own life and bond was beyond disconcerting.

The puppeteer’s passion and madness were obvious now, leaving Selene to wonder what the future held for her. The arm, a masterpiece of mithralite and magic, was a testament to Poca’s genius, but it also served as a reminder of the fine line between brilliance... and insanity.

Selene tried to hide her uncertainty, but Poca saw right through her.

Poca reached out and squeezed Selene's shoulder. "Trust me, Selene. I will take good care of you."

The puppeteer's voice was soothing, but the madness lurking behind her eyes was impossible to ignore. Selene nodded, feeling the fear in her gut grow. She had no choice but to trust the puppeteer, and there was no doubt in her mind that Poca was just as obsessed and driven as her father.

But would that obsession prove to be Selene's salvation... or her damnation?

Selene could only wait and see, her fate now tied to the mad puppeteer who had saved her life.