Her hunger for food lessened. Her skin and her hair remained pristine. Bathing became a luxury rather than a necessity. Sisi learned new skills, and she mastered them faster than any sim. She became a legend in her neighborhood, a goddess of downtown.
The sims listened as the violin wept at her skillful grace. The sims were enraptured by her concerto flowing through ivory keys struck in passion. The sims laughed like zealots with every joke and gag she had thrown. The sims followed, and Sisi had them in her hands.
Even with her popularity, Sisi never forget her purpose. She sniffed them out and followed their trail. There were some who hid in the depths of the park, and there were some who were holed in the library. But her prey were excited rather than afraid. All were willing victims, unaware of their captivity.
Time ran, and death was at its heels. The old died, and their seed blossomed. The ritual was near fruition. Sisi only needed one more book, but Isis fought The Third's influence over Sisi. Only one name remained, and that was Isabel Little.
After finishing her hunt, Sisi disappeared from the public eye. There were fans who would show up on her doorstep, and Sisi would ignore them. Those who were captured in her books were received with open arms and then treated like royalty. And when they died, Sisi summoned them in their ghostly form. All were fodder to her ritual, but the time soldered a bond between a wolf and her lambs.
Yet some were doubtful of her intentions. When they asked what they were doing in her mansion, Sisi struggled to give an answer. She would talk and argue with herself until finally The Third took over her tongue. "We're going to a higher realm," said The Third in Sisi's voice, "higher than the netherrealm. It is paradise. And I promise we'll all be together."
---
When the walk to the top floor became tiresome, Sisi moved her rooftop garden to the ground floor. At the backyard, Sisi built a greenhouse for the flower offerings. She also moved the bookcase for convenience. It also enhanced the decor; it made Sisi smile like a proud mother.
While tending her garden, Sisi heard the screams from the bookcase behind her. She sighed and patted the dirt off her hands. She took out the book and gasped at the name: Cayden Little.
The abandoned family. It had been years since she had seen Cayden and Isabel. Whenever father and child had waited at her front door, Sisi would be paralyzed by the war of words inside her head. And when it got too loud, she would yell at them to go away, to get out. Those harsh words were meant for the voices in her head.
Sisi returned the screaming book on the shelf and planted a seed to silence it. Sisi always summoned the newly deceased to her mansion, but this time, Sisi hesitated. Sisi exited the greenhouse and headed for her room. She planned to write a new novel to maintain her income, but her plan was derailed by Cayden's ghost.
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