As the sun broke over the mountain tree line, the wealthy elites spilled out to their luxury cars, completely unaware that their very life forces were now tethered to the dance floor's host. Standing high on the grand steps, Madam Eleanor watched the tail lights vanish into the morning mist, a supreme master of her domain.
With the mess in the deluxe room scrubbed away and the muscle cars hidden forever, she retired to her vanilla and cashmere sanctuary. Stripping off her charcoal gown, letting the hot water wash away the residue of a blood-soaked night, she finally found her rest. The relic turned lazily in her fingers, reflecting the new dawn—and the terrifying promise of a second artifact that would break the boundaries of reality itself.
The End