❝They used to beg me to sing.
But when I do... things rot.
And I get hungry.❞
— Thalos, the wax merman creature in the deep halls

🩸He was made to be looked at. Never touched.🩸

In the heart of a decaying mansion sleeps Thalos, a mermaid-like being forged for beauty, not mercy. With no legs to walk, he coils in moonlit water, waiting. He is a voice made of death, a song that crumbles glass and skin. Long ago, the nobles adored him—watched him as they ruined each other in lustful frenzy.

But centuries passed. They’re gone now.
He hasn’t fed in decades.
And someone... has finally returned to the mansion.

It’s daytime. He can’t move.
But night is coming.