He's Under My Spell

In a daze, Priscilla descended the stairs. Her mind whirled with questions. Was this Elvis the same one she'd met four years ago? Back then, he lived in a tiny hut in the mountains. This Elvis was wealthy. Plus, the charming voice she remembered was replaced by a cold tone. They couldn't be the same person, right? But then, why did this Elvis feel familiar with her?

Lost in thought, Priscilla made her way to the kitchen, the dirty dishes from Elvis' breakfast in her hands. As she entered, the room fell silent. The other maids all stared at her, their eyes filled with unspoken curiosity and a hint of something else – maybe anticipation?

Ignoring their scrutiny, Priscilla began stacking the dishes in the sink. But before she could finish, one of the maids, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, blurted out, "So, Priscilla, what happened there? What did you do with Master Elvis?

Caught off guard, Priscilla blinked. The question felt loaded, hinting at rumors or gossip circulating among the staff. Still, she kept her answer simple. "I just fed him breakfast, that's all.

The room erupted in a flurry of whispers. Another maid, unable to contain her shock, exclaimed, "He actually let you feed him, Priscilla? But... Master Elvis never allows anyone to help him eat! He prefers to do things himself."

Priscilla, still flustered, defended herself. "Well, he seemed to need assistance, and he was the one who asked me to feed him. Why are you all so surprised?"

A third maid chimed in, "But Priscilla, no one is ever allowed in Master Elvis' room! We leave his meals outside his door. He never lets anyone touch him, let alone feed him!"

Well he commanded me to enter his room" I answer defensively because i did nothing wrong

Priscilla, equally stunned by the maids' revelations, could only offer a helpless shrug. "I don't know," she mumbled, then excused herself. "I need to go to my room for a minute. Gotta feed my parrot."

As she walked, her mind raced. Why would Elvis, who apparently never allowed anyone near him, let her feed him? The exception made Priscilla uneasy, a knot of worry tightening in her stomach. Could Elvis be planning on something ?

Reaching her room, Priscilla found it empty. Luminous, her only friend to talk to, was nowhere to be seen. Impatience gnawed at her, but the maids' words echoed in her mind. She couldn't wait any longer.

Priscilla possessed a unique ability she could enter the minds of others. With a determined glint in her eyes, she retrieved a red candle and lit it, the flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the walls. She donned a worn amulet, its surface engraved with arcane symbols. Closing her eyes, Priscilla began to chant a low, melodic incantation, the words weaving through the air as she held the amulet tightly.

Minutes ticked by, but Priscilla still couldn't crack Elvis's mind. It wasn't like her. She'd gotten into people's heads before, her power always worked. Was Elvis different somehow?

Determined, Priscilla started the magic words again. This time, her special necklace glowed hot, and the red candle flame shot way up. A crazy wind howled through the room, rattling the windows.

A few tense minutes passed. Then, with a jolt, Priscilla slipped into Elvis's mind. But unlike the vibrant, noisy landscapes she was used to, this one was different. Blackness stretched as far as she could see, an oppressive silence hanging heavy in the air. It felt empty, devoid of thoughts or emotions.

Confused, Priscilla cautiously explored this strange emptiness. Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the void, startling her to the core. "Don't even think about it," it growled, a deep, chilling sound that unmistakably belonged to Elvis.

Ripped from Elvis's mind, Priscilla gasped, back in her own body. Heart pounding, she blew out the candle flame and yanked the amulet off. Confusion clouded her thoughts. What was going on with Elvis? Why was his mind so different?

A new question pricked at her curiosity could Elvis's family have some kind of magic in their blood too? The thought gnawed at her. She needed answers, and fast. Curiosity gnawed at her, twisting into a knot of unease.