The New God's Of Avaricia

Ava lay on her side, staring at the cracked and peeling wallpaper of her chamber, her mind racing like a river in flood. The very thought of Elara in Sam's clutches made her stomach churn with a sickening dread that was as palpable as the stench of the city's alleys. The girl's innocence, so stark and unblemished, was a beacon in the sea of corruption that was the House of Garnet.

Her thoughts swirled like leaves caught in an autumn gale, each idea more desperate than the last. Yet, amidst the chaos, a plan began to coalesce, a slender thread of hope in the tapestry of despair. She knew she could not face Sam alone; his influence was too great, his madness too deep.

The whispers grew more frantic as Ava approached Madam Agatha's chamber. The matronly woman looked up from her ledger, the lines on her face deepening as she recognized the determination in Ava's eyes. "What troubles you, my child?" she asked, her voice a blend of concern and wariness.

"Elara," Ava began, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. "He's after her, and she's too young, too pure."

Madam Agatha's gaze grew as sharp as a dagger. She knew of whom Ava spoke; the girl's innocence was a commodity that could make or break the house. "What would you have us do?"

Ava took a deep, shuddering breath. "Keep him busy," she replied, her voice firm with the resolve that had grown within her. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure that he does not harm her."

Madam Agatha studied Ava, her gaze piercing the veil of the girl's stoic façade. She knew the price of defying a man like Sam Bower, but she also knew the depth of the love that had been born in this unlikely place. Love for a child who was not her own, a love that had grown from the ashes of her own lost innocence.

"If you cannot hold his eye," she warned, her voice as chilling as the winter wind, "you leave us all to the mercy of his whims. He is a storm that will not be denied, and if you dare to turn from him, you leave us to face his wrath."

Ava nodded solemnly, the gravity of her mission weighing upon her slender shoulders. She knew the risks she took, the lives she gambled with. But she also knew the depth of the horror that awaited Elara should she fail. "I will not fail," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with a fierce determination.

Her heart hammered a tattoo of dread as she waited for Sam's carriage to arrive. Each beat echoed through the corridors of the House of Garnet like a funeral march, a mournful reminder of the fate that awaited them all should he tire of her.

Ava had met many men in her short life, men of power and wealth, men whose appetites were vast and varied, but none had ever stirred within her the visceral fear that Sam Bower did. His visits were never a source of pride but a looming specter of dread that cast its shadow over every moment of her existence. His touch was not the gentle caress of a lover but the cold embrace of the grave, and his whispers were not sweet nothings but the echoes of the city's darkest secrets.

Yet, as she lay in wait, her mind racing, she knew that she could not let Elara become his next victim. The girl's innocence was a beacon in the murky waters of the House of Garnet much like hers once was, and she had seen the hunger in Sam's eyes as he had watched her. It was a hunger that would not be sated by mere jaded experience, and Ava knew that if she did not act, the consequences would be dire.

Her plan was as delicate as a spider's web, spun from the threads of her own desperation and the frayed fabric of her shattered heart. She would weave a tapestry of passion and deceit, a dance as intricate as the steps she had learned in the shadowed corners of the brothel. Her goal was not to merely satisfy his desires but to entrap his very soul, to make him love her so fiercely that he could not bear to think of another.

The night grew colder, and the whispers grew more urgent as the sound of hooves approached. The carriage that bore Sam Bower's seal drew to a halt outside, and the tension in the House of Garnet grew palpable. Each step he took echoed through the corridors like the tolling of a funeral bell, and Ava felt her resolve falter, the weight of her decision a leaden stone in her stomach.

As the door to her chamber creaked open, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, bracing herself for the performance of a lifetime. The room grew darker as he filled the space, his shadow stretching over her like the wing of a ravenous bird of prey. She knew she had to be convincing, to offer herself to him completely, to become the very embodiment of temptation that he could not resist.

Ava stepped forward, her movements fluid and sinuous, a silent promise of the pleasures that awaited him. Her eyes, once filled with a detached resignation, now sparkled with a fiery passion that seemed to burn through the very fabric of her being. "My lord," she whispered, her voice a siren's call that seemed to resonate in the very air itself. "I am yours and yours alone tonight."

Sam Bower's gaze raked over her, his eyes glinting with the hunger that only the most devoted of the House of Garnet's inhabitants could satisfy. He liked her submission, the way she offered herself to him without question, a willing sacrifice on the altar of his desires. It was a power that intoxicated him, a heady cocktail of control and lust that he had never found elsewhere.

The night that unfolded was a twisted masquerade, a macabre dance of pleasure and pain that painted the walls of the chamber with a hue of depravity that seemed to seep into Ava's very soul. Each touch, each whispered word, was a deliberate act of manipulation, a thread woven into the fabric of a web designed to entrap. Yet, amidst the horror of it all, Ava found a strange comfort in her role as the puppeteer, orchestrating a performance that would, hopefully, save Elara from a fate worse than her own.

As the candles burned down to nubs, and the shadows grew thick as ink on the parchment of the walls, Ava could feel the change in Sam. His eyes grew softer, his touch less brutal, as if the act of claiming her so completely had somehow mellowed the madness that had once ruled him. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, words that she knew were as false as the smiles that painted the faces of the damned, yet she took them greedily, clinging to the illusion as a lifeline in the sea of despair that had become her world.

When the final shudder passed through him, and the last vestiges of passion had been wrung from his body, she took his hand and pressed it to her heart. "I am yours," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with the intensity of her words. "My body, my soul, all of me."

Sam's eyes searched hers, and for a fleeting moment, Ava thought she saw a flicker of doubt, a hint of humanity in the abyss that had once been his soul. His hand trembled, and for the first time since their twisted relationship had begun, he looked... hesitant. It was a look that sent a tremor of hope through Ava's weary bones.

With a suddenness that was as surprising as it was violent though, Sam ripped his hand away from her chest, his eyes snapping wide with a feral intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The warmth of his touch was replaced by the biting chill of the room, and she watched as his features contorted into something monstrous.

"How dare you?" he hissed, his voice a serrated blade that sliced through the velvety darkness. "How dare you presume that I would seek the heart of a whore?"

Ava felt the room spin around her, the weight of his words a crushing blow. Yet, she kept her mask firmly in place, her eyes never leaving his. "Forgive me, my lord," she murmured, her voice a silken caress. "I only wish to please you."

But the tempest in Sam's eyes grew stronger, his fury a living, breathing entity that threatened to consume them all. He threw back the covers and rose from the bed, his naked form a terrifying specter in the dim candlelight. "You dare to speak of love to me?" he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like the howl of a maddened beast. "You, who have been soiled by the touch of countless others?"

The words were like a knife to Ava's heart, each syllable a twist of the blade that sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through her. Yet, she remained unflappable, her gaze never wavering from his. "My heart is yours," she murmured, her voice a soft lament. "It is only my body that has been... shared."

But the storm of Sam's fury had reached its crescendo, and with a snarl, he backhanded her across the face with a force that sent her sprawling to the floor. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth, and she could feel the warm trickle of it seep down her chin. The pain was a stark reminder of the reality she had sought to escape within the embrace of her own deception.

"You are used up!" he spat, his voice a thunderous cacophony that seemed to shake the very foundations of the House of Garnet. "There is no love in you, no purity, no... soul!"

The words stung like acid, burning away the fragile illusion Ava had crafted. She knew she had lost, that her gambit had failed to sway the monster that was Sam Bower. The creature before her was not a man but a beast, a creature of the shadows that was too powerful to be contained by the likes of her.

"You have served your purpose," he said, his voice as cold as the ice that coated the streets outside. "I am done with you, Ava. There is no more to be had from your tainted wellspring of passion."

Her heart sank like a stone thrown into the abyss, but she did not let the pain show on her face. Instead, she rose gracefully to her feet, her eyes never leaving his. "As you wish, my lord," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest.

The silence that followed was deafening, a testament to the power that Sam Bower wielded. Ava knew that she had failed, that her heart would not be enough to save Elara.

With a cruel smile that did not reach his eyes, Sam Bower donned his clothes, his movements as precise and deliberate as a cat stalking its prey. "Prepare your waiting girl for my visit tomorrow," he ordered, the words cutting through the air like a sword. "I am done with you."

Ava felt a coldness settle in her chest, a void where once hope had bloomed. She had gambled with her soul and lost, her love for Elara the price of her failure. The illusion of power she had briefly held had been shattered, leaving her more vulnerable than ever before.

It was over.

-To Be Continued-