𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒫o𝓇𝒸𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃

1. Remains Of Her

12/11/1846

The sound of chants and the crackling of flames emit the cold Autumn air as the humble doll and puppets workshop, belonging to the once-beloved Mr Henry Vogel, burns bit by bit. 

Inside the building, a teen boy rushes around the flames, searching each room in the endless hallways. He opens the door to a room and finally sees his father staring at the wall, holding one of his life-sized dolls in his arms. 

"Father! What are you doing just standing there?!" The boy cries, trying to cover his mouth with his arm as to not inhale too much smoke. 

"This is my workshop, Adryan. I cannot simply leave it to crumble. If it burns, I burn with it." The man says in a dead tone.

"Are you insane?!" The boy says, desperately trying to get through to his delusional father. 

"You must escape, Adryan. I have a legacy here that I must keep. I will turn to ashes if that is the fate my creations have." The man vows.

"Forget about the stupid dolls, father! This is your life! You can't--!" The boy stops himself when his father turns around to face him, revealing the doll he has been cradling. The boy's breath shortens as he recognises the doll's face as his own little sister's who had passed away months ago. 

She has mid-length, white-blonde hair with a white hair bow and adorns a tea party pink dress with white torn tights and black pumps. The look in her midnight-blue eyes are dead but her mouth is twisted into a smile. 

"Now, Adryan...is that any way to talk about your sister? She has longed for you just as much as you have longed for her." The man says with a slight, dead smile. The boy is speechless, this revelation too much to handle. With this truth and the smoke around him, the boy can't remain conscious any longer and collapses. The man only watches his son's unconscious body and sighs in disappointment. 

"It seems you were not as perfect as I had hoped. I assure you, I will not let myself perish. Neither will I let your mother and sister. You, on the other hand, I will have to cut loose. I cannot fix your imperfection." The man states coldly as he turns away from his son and pushes a brick on the wall, making the wall open up into a secret passageway. He gets one more look at the unconscious boy as the flames spread around him and turns to walk down the passageway, the wall sealing up behind him. 

------

Within the hidden, candle-lit room sits four thrones in a royal fashion, two large chairs and two smaller chairs in between them, along with four large coffin-like black boxes leaning against the walls.

The large chair on the left holds an adult-sized porcelain doll with black long hair, a pinstripe black and white gown and silk black gloves, gazing into nothingness with its midnight-blue eyes. 

The other large chair holds an adult-sized marionette that strongly resembles the man. It has a black dress coat with a crimson-red button-up shirt and black breeches and boots. 

The man gently places the doll he has been cradling on one of the two smaller thrones, positioning it to sit in a formal position. 

He then takes a ritualistic-like knife from his pocket and stands in front of the puppet that resembles himself. Positioning the knife to his throat and taking a deep breath, he looks the puppet deep into its lifeless eyes. 

"I have created perfection for many decades. And in order to continue creating perfection, I must become perfection. I am trusting you, dear friend, to fulfil your end of the deal."

With one swift motion, the man slits his throat and collapses in front of the puppet with a dark red oozing from his throat. 

All the candles in the room go out and darkness consumes everything.