If someone were to ever wake in her place, they would most likely expect the first thing they see to be something like a wooden ceiling, an unlit light, maybe the blanket that they curled themselves up in.

  It would be best to say that in some form, she woke to all, neither, and more.

  It’s far less confusing than it seems.

  The walls and ceiling weren’t exactly made of wood, the only sources of light were a bunch of glowing flower petals floating about, and the bed would never let me make a mess of it.

  To the unaware and uneducated, she would be deemed someone prestigious, someone of high class, someone who would any second now have a storm of maids coming in to cater to each and every one of my needs.

  They couldn’t be more wrong.

  So wrong in fact that if they were to go and say that to anyone else, they would be laughed at and then would be hung on a tree.

  A dark thought isn’t it, unfortunately those are the acts her mistress would most likely take.

  She is not a very kind one. That fact was reinforced to me two weeks ago. She still needs three hours to ease her nerves before sleeping.

  If only she never listened to that deity that day, maybe then she could have taken solace in the act of waking to a bed of her own creation, one that wasn’t deemed inferior because it utilized wood cotton and wool that was different from the rest of the stuff here. If she were to be honest it was, but that didn’t mean her craft could be insulted like that.

  Nevertheless, it was best not to keep her waiting. She could end up having her body being eaten from the inside atom by atom.

  Gently sliding out of the blanket and off the bed, she immediately made mer way towards the wardrobe closet.

  It is nothing special in the slightest, being made of the same material as everything else here. Its grey color is what prevents it from blending in with the white silver and light grey walls that are typically used here.

  Opening the doors, she was greeted with the annoyance that is her maid outfit.

  There have been several outfits designed for maids that she had seen in her life, none of them had ever perplexed her more than this one.

  The color scheme is usually black and white, this one might as well be just black. It is a long sleeved frilled dress with no apron oddly enough, and the socks are long with black and white stripes. The only normal things would be the shoes and mobcap, but even those were black.

  She could do nothing but blame the calamity that was her mistress sister, indoctrinating the impressionable child into this type of fashion as if it were the best thing to ever exist. Seriously, what if it failed to work that day and she had to deal with an angry Skayr.

  Still though, there was no choice but to wear it.

  It took her thirteen seconds to undress and get into uniform, a record breaker compared to her previous fifteen seconds. The first time was nothing but awkward for her, but after a few days when it wore off, it became completely boring for her.

  Making her way to the door, she nearly ran into a wandering Altus, the nelhi barely noticing her in his daze like state. Once he did however, he gave her a small wave, a small chime emanating from his body.

  Responding with a gentle wave, she quickly turned to climb her way up the stairs, a corridor of twelve flights separating her from the room that currently held her captor.

  It would be nothing but a short climb, taking only ten minutes and twenty-nine seconds to reach the top last she checked.

  Upon reaching the top, the first thing that entered her vision was the sight of those handleless behemoths that were called doors by those who had lived here before her. There was nothing else for her to see, it was only the room behind it that was decorated.

  Walking up to one of them, her muscles strained as she pushed one of them open, the large barrier groaning as it slid across the floor.

  The moment the opening became enough for her to slide through, she took it, entering the large field that the master of this castle dared to call a room.

  It was vast, so large that logically it should have had a bunch of pillars all around to support it, yet it didn’t, it had no need for such things.

  It was hard to see her, the damn bed was for whatever reason small, but she could see her off in the distance.

  With each step she took, it could be heard more and more clearer.

  The never ending laughing, one so odd she’d assume that anyone else who made such a noise would be having a stroke.

  When she finally reached the lone bed in this faux land, the laughter was in full blow, and she could see the ever twitching body.

  That leaf woven cloak that she wore was wrapped tightly around her, nearly mimicking a cocoon as her empty eyeholes moved across her pale face.

  The sight before her looked like a hospital room, a child on a bed completely unresponsive to the world around them.

  It was still astonishing to know that she was fully aware.

  “Mistress, it is time to wake up.”

  She didn’t expect her voice to actually have any effect, but with all the other maids she’s seen in her life, and how much this child accepted, or enjoyed hopefully, this treatment, she would do it either way.

  The actual act of waking her however up involved the removal of this tiny blanket that she wore.

  The moment she did, the laughter began to die, the black spots that should have had eyes stilled, and the body that could not stop moving relaxed.

  In an instant, the monster that could be called a god rose.

  She simply stood to the side, freezing cold cloak neatly folded in her arms, an act that took only four seconds this time compared to the last eight.

  The mistress was silent, so she would be so too. It was a matter of her gaining her barings, just because she knew of her presence the moment that door was opened didn’t mean that she could come out of that state thinking coherently instantly. It probably took longer for her than anything else that slept.

  Her ears raised, then lowered, and finally she spoke.

  “Teeth.”

  She did not turn to her to say that, and she did not need to. The message that was put throughout the air was very clear, it always was.

  “As you wish, mistress.”

  This empty lot waiting for a city to be built had a bathroom in it, though really all it had was a sink and a mirror that could not be used because of the biology of its owner. Whatever this mirror was used for, she would never know.

  There were sixteen brushes lined up across the sink, with a stool in front of said sink for her to elevate herself to the appropriate level.

  She grabbed one of the nozzles, and will a simple and firm turn, a stream of an ethereal blue water emerged from the faucet and splashed against the sink.

  Grabbing the largest of the brushes, she soaked it in the water that was provided. There was no paste around for such activity, the water was enough.

  “Mistress, please open your mouth.”

  The immediate thought one would have upon telling someone this would be for them to open their mouths at an appropriate level, maybe even as wide as they could whilst making a little sound. They would expect to see a bunch of teeth neatly placed along the mouths inside and a pink little tongue to go with it.

  There was no room for the way her face twisted to pop itself open like that.

  There were seventeen rows, each going in a circle. They were not teeth, there were blades, they shouldn’t be called anything else. There was no tongue in sight, the blades took it all up and only left a small hole. There were two bundles off to the side, they were unnecessary no matter how you look at it yet they were still there.

  Little known fact, every last one of them rotated.

  It was hard to imagine that anything got stuck between them, yet it did. It was a clear reminder that this was a child, sticking all sorts of things in between those blades of hers with no regard. Or did she simply have insane amounts of residue from all these years.

  Throwing away those pointless thoughts, she grabbed the side of the monster in human skin’s mouth and placed the brush on a blade from the first row.

  It was large enough to encompass all these so-called teeth of hers without having to be pushed down onto them, meaning it could be spared from their furious murder.

  It was not meant for the sixth row however, so it would have to be swapped out at that point.

  It wasn’t as simple as it seemed to any spectators, for each time she put this brush on one of those weapons of hers, she had to give them a small scrub in order for it to be a satisfactory starter. That was the bane of this brush and her arms.

  The first row was not dangerous at all, at least not initially. A single motion by that spike that grew out of her mouth could remove an entire finger, so she did have something to worry about.

  The action was swift, a straight stroke down to the next blade. She could not put any force on that singular sword without losing the brush, so she gave it a glancing brush. That was how this brush was made to operate.

  Skayr was still silent, though the chances of her making an involuntary act were zero.

  “So, miistress, how has the school been treating you.”

  She received no words of response, only a small whirring of the rows ten through fourteen.

  “I see.”

  It was actually quite easy to tell what she thought about something if one were to listen to the sound of her teeth. Of course no one would ever just randomly hear this outside of eating, to which they wouldn’t even notice it with her grinding that blood fruit with her mouth closed.

  One could say she was simply lucky in that regard to be privy to this info, or unlucky if they were to think of it as a threat.

  “Well then, maybe this week will provide you with a new experience. Maybe you’ll find yourself a third toy there as well.”

  She was expecting a response in the form of whirring teeth, or maybe a small sound from her open mouth. Instead, she was given a complete and utterly deafening silence.

  “Mistress, if you seek to raze the school to the ground, I beg you to not do it in such a way that it gets traced back to us. We are still in need of the materials provided by the city, and cannot afford being hunted by it.”

  There was still no response given, and the merit of her question, and accusation, was called into question. It was not baseless, given that Skayr has expressed such desires to her before.

  “Might I make a suggestion. If you truly wish to vent your frustrations, you could perhaps set the buildings aflame, or cause a set of targeted murders. If you truly wish to destroy it all, you could frame it as an unfortunate accident. I do believe you have the ability to make the sky fall.”

  Again, the mistress was silent, the only sound made being the one the brush she held created against her natural weapons.

  “I merely request that you give whatever you plan on doing some thought.”

  This monster that dared to say she had relation to the athels had complete control over her body, down to the smallest part of it. The idea that someone could just force her body to do something it didn’t want was not only asinine, but laughable.

  That is why she was alarmed when the row she was currently working on moved along with her strokes, as if they had gone limp.

  “Mistress, I feel like I am being judged. Have I done something to upset you?”

  The whirring was quiet, gentle, and if it were not for the question she had asked beforehand, it is very likely she would never know what that response truly was.

  “I… Seem to have angered you mistress.”

  Two rows close to the one she was in the middle of working on spun in the same quiet manner.

  “I see. I apologize for whatever action I have taken against you.”

  Skayr only responded with more gentle teeth grinding.

  She would forever find it perplexing that this child would pout.

  It was insanity, an millennia old immortal still found it appropriate to pout and throw tantrums all while expecting me to know what it is that upsets her.

  She has no mind reading capabilities, much less the fact that anything that was similar to her had no minds.

  What she was doing was just completely petty, that body of hers can be warped to suit any of her needs. It wouldn’t even take a drop of effort for her to just make a mouth somewhere else on the body and speak her baseless frustrations.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It was irritating that this brat still found it appropriate to remind her of what she was.

  Still though, there was no going without apologizing. The mistress was very quick to remind her of where her place was when it comes to her attitude and conduct. There was a clear difference in the child's play that was an athels punishment and this beast's correction.

  Aside from Altus and Ul’silys, there was no one in the world who could actually decipher whatever it was she desired. The only actual method anyone could try would be a brute force one.

  “Mistress, what I have spoken of were merely requests and suggestions, there is no obligation for you to even entertain such ideas, in fact you could even do the opposite. I apologize for speaking out of turn, I simply wanted to give my voice on the matter.”

  Just as the previous three times, her words were responded to with that complete mockery of a pout, only this time it was more audible.

  Skayr was voicing her frustrations, a sign that her feelings were acknowledged somewhat, and a sign that she could end the day without being turned into a blob of flesh, of course that involved appeasing her through an appropriate sacrifice and begging to the nearest deity that nothing else would irritate her.

  There were several options for her to choose, most of which could work for sure but had no actual beneficial long run, such as removing a limb or an eye, and while they could be healed, there was no guarantee of that. There was also her cutting her tongue, which also relied on her mistress mood being one that would have me healed before going anywhere else.

  Since it was not asked of her, she could not mutilate herself, not without having to tear herself apart to the point of near death, which left overindulgence as her only option.

  It was not something she could just do whenever, the resource cost alone was already massive as it was now, so constantly pumping it out could not be done. Additionally, the cost to acquire more than what this castle had stored would be immense, and would likely have Skayr paying for it herself, which would only bring her more anger.

  She could pay out of pocket, she sold all sorts of wares, though they were merely rare things such as symbols and natural charms for those who were interested in utilizing the worlds inner coding.

  She took a deep breath, one meant to send a prayer to whatever divine being that could hear it to spare some mercy for her.

  “Mistress, out of regret for my actions, I promise to make extra blood fruits for you.”

  Instead of that grating pout, the eerie silence returned.

  “For three weeks.”

  That was enough for Skayr to make a noise of approval, a noise that signaled the infuriating position she was put in.

  Eleven minutes and fifteen seconds, that’s how long it took for every single one of those tiny monsters waiting to be given the command to be cleaned.

  She would admit to no one but herself that she had made several mistakes and had the prod around clumsily before figuring out what to do.

  Her immediate directives after that was to take the young mistress down to the baths, and as such she now stood near this large pool that was to be used as a bathtub. It was completely unnecessary to have all these daily commodities at such a scale.

  There was no seeing her, but there was no need to. Skayr could not drown, if such a thing were possible she would have escaped from this place long ago.

  Yet even with the young mistress remaining submerged in this pale lake of water, she was tasked with the act of not only standing by with a towel until she was ready to leave, but with the task of dressing her as well.

  It was petty laziness, one she was subjected to from the moment she arrived, one that would end with any attempts to call her out on it with fatal results. Knowing that her lungs would not be turned into biological hazards was a very good deterrent against any of her criticism.

  Though if there was any solace she could take, it was that she did not have to sit by and wait for this aquarium to fill up, that torture luckily went to Altus. Just like her, he was tasked with standing by, though it was only for cleaning up all the bugs.

  As of now, only a quarter of that tsunami has been removed.

  Speaking of the nelhi, he was currently playing with one of her failed products. She still had no idea how he was even able to be near her after that day, let alone acknowledge her presence.

  He was simply forgiving, so there was still some mercy for her yet.

  Though the option of him deeming her servitude punishment enough for her actions was still pretty likely, as well as the option of him having a convoluted revenge planned with the knowledge that she could do nothing to stop him.

  These two were immortal, the entire castle had everything needed to snuff out of her life, there was nothing actually stopping them from killing her.

  Giving it some thought though, from the moment she was put on bath duty, her proximity to this purified water has been dangerously close, and with so little interaction with it.

  “Say, if I were to be submerged in these waters for a long period of time, what would happen to me?”

  His body leaned forward, halo tilting to the side, body shifting to black as a mass of blue stars came into view. Not a second later, he returned back to white and chimed.

  He became tall and rigid, towering over her by a good bit, before he immediately melted into a puddle, emitting chime after chime.

  There was no need to think on what his answer was.

  “Is that an assumption, or do you generally know that?”

  In a flash, he went from that large puddle of white back into the gelatinous blob that wandered the castle like a lost soul, nodding repeatedly all the way.

  “That doesn’t really tell me what I want to know.”

  He was still for a moment, before his body turned black and the countless vast lights once again returned. Two of them flashed brightly in that seemingly infinite void.

  “Ah, I see.”

  He responded with a chime before floating over to a nearby basket placed next to the so-called bathtub. Picking up a yellow colored soap ball, he flew over the water's surface gently, only picking up the pace when the water he floated over moved.

  She was playing with him, there was no need for her to have any vision to tell that was what was happening. The game was obvious, entertain her, and he could finish the order he was given.

  It was inefficient, pointless, and a complete waste of time to everyone here. She stood here in this same spot in this same exact position with a towel in her arms for twelve minutes and seventeen seconds.

  Was today not a school day, something the mistress insisted on attending everyday?

  Though in all honesty, why was she even getting angry at this point. She has been given orders like this twenty eight times before hand, this is not the first time Skayr has spent needless amounts of time here because she focused on playing more than bathing.

  Who was she kidding, her anger was always justified and valid, especially in this case.

  Eventually, his movements slowed to a halt, signifying that Skayr’s entertainment quota had been reached, as well as the fact she would have to once again brace for her to barrel straight into her.

  If the purity spirit had any complaints about his treatment, they would only exist in a world that would never see the light of day even in its dreams.

  Speaking of which.

  “By the way Altus, this is the third knife you’ve taken from me. My craft may be of high quality, but I would prefer you do not steal it so callously.”

  She could not speak with Skayr’s nelhi so casually, at least not when it came to other matters. But this one, all the mistress would do in such a situation is give her a dry response that was either an attempt at humor or some form of mocking.

  Her flying library however was far better at both arts, as displayed by how he shook his body and hugged the knife he had stored who knows where.

  It was possible that his responses were a simple trauma response, but she would never know, not without learning how to translate his chimes.

  “It is a simple thing yes, one that is still worthy of high praise, but it still and forever will belong to me.”

  There was a certain pattern to this faceless creature, one that made everything he did completely telling without even a single noise being made by him.

  He could judge her just by staying still, and he did. He could insult her just by tilting his body, and he did. All of this required a single action, and it was made to say one thing.

  He disagreed, and his opposing opinion was worth much more because of some half baked logic.

  “Even if what you hold in your stubs is a failure, it is still a work produced by me. You lack the respect needed to actually determine the fate of anything so beautiful.”

  His response was one of false pride, pulling out a knife of pale steel that shined against the light. It was without any mark, a forever clean knife that even she would admit praise to. However, that was not a knife of his creation, nor did he ever really use it like she did, it was a faulty attempt at an argument.

  “So you really are as foolish as I assumed. How tragic.”

  As if his attempted rebuttal meant nothing, he threw both knives down at his side, body puffing up in a fit of anger as he let off a series of angry chimes.

  There was a huge chance that those were only profanities.

  “To use such language in front of the mistress, you truly are as bad of an influence as you are thieving.”

  The sound of his untranslatable noises were a reminder of the only form of joy she could have around here.

  Yes, his willingness to interact with her was a small mercy, one that had intentions she could never truly comprehend, but it provided her with an opportunity to keep some of her pride in this new life.

  Such things were usually the first to go, but ever since she was made to serve, her pride was the only thing she managed to keep to herself. That was the last thing to be quickly shattered, all because of a few minor comments that didn’t mean much of anything.

  “Servant.”

  The way the perpetrator said that word, the way she spoke it in disgust, as if having to address her at all, as if having to have her be within her vicinity at all times, was nothing but a mess that could never be cleaned.

  It was a tone that said so much, she could never understand how an entire story could be fit into just one word like that. Yet it was, and as of now, she was commanded to do three things.

  Cease this petty argument at once, simply relent and let Altus have his knife, and finally.

  There was no need to think about it, she had two weeks of practice, so she knew how to avoid the worst of it. She could never tell why Skayr sought to get out of it in such a way, maybe it was only done with her just for fun, or for revenge against her crime two weeks ago.

  The towel was spread open wide, a makeshift buffer that wouldn’t actually hold against anything, but did well as a net. The pale white blur crashed into it not even a second later, sending her back crashing into a wall.

  She couldn’t feel the pain, not yet at least. The entire process was a complete rush of adrenaline for a human like her, it was comparable to being thrown at the speeds of a bullet, no one was meant for something like that.

  The one who caused all this was wrapped in that towel that was turned into a sack. It was tied, but it was held shut by her hands. There was never a problem when it came to the mistress not having any air, so there was no need to worry about catching her like that.

  There was no time for her to catch her breath however, even with the imminent pain. The patience of Skayr was one that could never be properly measured. She could ask for something and wait thirty six hours straight for it without a care in the world, yet could easily find a measly ten seconds like these one of mass stalling.

  The muffled voice that came from the rags proved it.

  “Servant.”

  Despite how it was muffled, her voice carried the same tone as it did before barrelling into her, and as it did when she first came to awake her. Yet that strictly monotone speech conveyed one single thing, she was tired of being held here, she wanted to be let out dried off and dressed. To put it simply, Skayr wanted her to do her job.

  She valued her life enough to get it done right away.

  The time for the bathing process was twenty minutes and eight seconds in total.

  Altus had been left behind to drain the water and exterminate all bugs. He would catch up later for breakfast.

  He typically fed on the fruits here, with only the occasional vegetable at dinner. It was a sweet tooth of his if she were to ever guess, though how he could stomach something so overly sweet she would never know.

  The mistress on the other hand could not eat any of that. It wasn’t a matter of allergies, or a matter of having a picky tongue, she merely lacked the ability to eat anything at all. She had such an ability back then, but it was long gone.

  That was where this spell came in.

  It was oluesan, though oddly enough all it did was give a starting point. The desired product was what Skayr called a blood fruit, though in reality it was just a heart that just so happened to have a sweet taste, at least according to the occupants of this castle.

  She had no idea why this was the only thing she could eat, only that she had somehow replicated a portion of the mistress formula, whatever that meant.

  This formula however was one of her own making as far as she knew.

  It started out with her blood, something she extracted from the jars on the shelves. Originally she would simply cut herself, but quickly found out it was too inefficient when it came to the rate the mistress consumed these unintended weapons.

  Next, she would require quwen, one of the few fish that awake only when the moon was full. It was a completely rare catch, and had cost her a fortune when she first sought it out. So costly in fact that she turned to the black market for their eggs and had simply started breeding them instead.

  Then there were the lalsie flowers, which also were a bit costly, though for reasons she herself did not know. Unlike this quwen, these flowers were actually quite common and were plentiful in celizila. Of course they weren’t as costly as the quwen which meant there was no need for her to make a garden of any sort to acquire them at a steady rate, not that she could have a garden here.

  And finally, the most difficult of them all, moonlight, or at least so it was. Wirtbur was filled with nothing but light made by fruits, which functioned entirely as solar light. She had to go into celizila in order to acquire the light she needed, and even then she spent a good amount of time trying to avoid any of the city's scouts from finding her.

  With this land being eternally basked in lunar light provided by the biggest moon she’s ever seen, there was no need to worry about gathering the light, Skayr even put some in a bottle somehow.

  “Servant, don’t forget what you promised.”

  “I have not mistress.”

  The entire spell process has become rather simple, mostly because of how she needed to get a streamlined version out or else she would die, not that she would tell anyone.

  First, she would spread half of the blood into a simple circle, then the quwen’s scales would need to be removed and placed into a square. The lalsies would have to have their petals arranged into three intersecting triangles that went throughout the square and circle. Finally, using the guts and blood, she would have to write four symbols, each having a translation that was used to form one of the shortest sentences she ever heard, as well as the oddest.

  Apfurint

  Hulthryct

  Lngisec

  Thokl

  She had no idea why the third witch was declaring her love for someone in an ideal world, as well as what an eternal gift had to do with it, nor did she ever care to answer any nosy magic practitioner why she even used these symbols in such a way in the first place, but either way she could not care, it kept her alive as of now.

  Using the flower’s plucked stems as a rod, she poured the bottled moonlight down in the middle of them, and the contradiction of something being burnt to frost was brought before her eyes.

  The ingredients that had been carefully laid out were immediately scattered before being pulled back in, violently snapping into place, interweaving in a way they were not meant to, it was as if she were watching someone being mutated into an apple.

  This phantom reverse mutilation that demonstrated the birthing process of something yet to exist was a spectacle that felt like hours, but in reality, it took no less than three seconds, and when it was done, there laid the only spell she could actually do.

  It did not beat, it did not pulsate, yet by some negligence of reality it moved, she swore it could, everyone did.

  If she were to be asked what it was, she would say it was blood. It could not be used by anyone, there was too much blood in even a single drop, it could not be destroyed, all it would do is flood the world, being inorganic meant nothing, it was blood for everything and as a result would overwhelm them in seconds.

  For some reason, the monster with no eyes could eat something like this and actually call it good.

  She had no idea if it actually had a taste for the failed test subjects in her attempts to get rid of it, nor does she ever care to know.

  “Your breakfast, mistress.”

  She received no thank you’s, no forms of appreciation for what she’s done. Normally someone would call out this lack of manners, but she valued her life enough to know what would happen if she did.

  Despite it being bigger than her head, Skayr only used one of those small hands of hers to pick it up. Despite how she did it earlier, she had only unhinged that mouth of hers to shove it into that array of teeth.

  The young mistress still had some form of manners, for she had quickly closed her mouth and let the helpless victim of her own making by shredded down into nothingness.

  She will never understand where all of it goes.

  Maybe if she got on her good side, she could get an explanation.

  “Servant, what time is it?”

  “It is 4:37 my lady.”

  “Very well, let us be off.”

  There was only one destination in mind, one she did not really go to much before she was forced into servitude. Now though, because of the whims of her mistress, she’d have to wake up far earlier than she was used to and trek long distances as well as temporarily be deprived of most of her senses, all just for the sake of amusing this child.

  She’d like to go back and time and convince her past self not to listen to that deity.