My mirror is a reflection of power—each surrender I command becomes another shimmer of worship inside its glass. In its depths, I see not just my own alluring form, but the souls that tremble before me. Their reflections entwine with mine, a mesmerizing dance of desire and despair.
With a flick of my wrist, the candles flare brighter, casting shadows that seem to writhe on the mirror’s surface. I trace the curves of my body with a pale finger, licking my lips in anticipation. The souls can sense my hunger, feel the seductive pull of my presence.
One by one, they approach, their reflections blurring with mine until we are twinned images of temptation. They press their faces against the glass, their breath fogging the surface, their pleas for acceptance muffled. I lean in, my lips brushing the cool surface, whispering sweet nothings to the trapped souls. They surrender, their essence seeping into my magical realm.
With each soul’s surrender, the mirror’s glow intensifies, reflecting the worship paid to my beauty and power. I bask in their adoration, my beauty and cruelty intertwined like the threads of a dark tapestry.
In the mirror’s depths, I see them—all the souls I have ensnared, forever trapped in my web of seduction. And when the mirror whispers your name, it will already own your soul.