Two purple eyes fluttered open, blinking for the first time as they absorbed their first glimpse of light. But soon a sense of isolation crept over the newborn, filling its heart with doubt. The world seemed dark and mysterious with no gentle parent in sight.

"Rise and shine Ali," a raspy voice echoed through the room.

Unable to formulate a response, the confused doll simply writhed around in its new body. The room she awoke in appeared dark and musty, with two black curtains surrounding the bed she lay on. A set of silver stars dangled above her head, almost as if she was a child in its crib. Two white arms then came into view as the doll gasped in shock. As far as Ali tell, she seemed to be a synthetic copy of a human. But unlike most machines, her purpose was a mystery. Ali's creator smiled as the doll appeared distressed, inspecting her own body with a panicked expression.

"Where...Who...Why," Ali murmured in a confused, yet angelic voice.

Placing an arm on the soft skin of the machine, a black-colored girl responded in a cynical tone, "See for yourself," she snickered as she handed Ali a mirror.

Ali gasped in shock as her mind absorbed the sight before her. She expected herself to be ugly, her programmed insecurities already dragging her down. But what she found was beauty beyond comparison. She might have even complimented herself if not for the growing shadow in her mind. Ali could already feel shame for her selfish actions. She felt it to be rude and careless to ask so many questions like a stunted fool.

"Who are you?" Ali stammered as she took notice of her maker.

"My name is Alia, and I am your creator," the cynical Tella answered.

"Your name sounds so similar to mine," Ali smiled.

"Oh of course you would say that," Alia smirked as she drew closer to her doll. "I was always terrible with names."

Ali smiled in approval at her mistress's features. She was glad to see much of her design had originated from Alia. But upon further inspection, she could not help but notice a strange difference between them. Alia seemed to have extremely narrow pupils in her void-colored eyes. Her features were so narrow in fact, they resembled a snake more than a human. Alia was indeed an enchanting girl, who often preferred to manipulate and seduce her way out of every situation.

Ali was so enamored she barely realized the sting in her arm before she winced. It would seem Alia had pricked the little doll with a needle, almost frowning as she watched a strange black liquid seep forth. Despite the shock of pain, Ali was far more concerned with her maker's condescending gaze-as if she had already become a disappointment.

"Ah!" Ali winced.

"Hm. I should have expected that," Alia sighed.

Ali looked on in horror as the beautiful young girl took a step back, her serpentine gaze muddled with the tears that had formed around her eyes. She knew what she had to do. But no amount of preparation would prepare for this moment.

"Ali...what I am about to do. I need you to know. I will not enjoy it. I'm sorry, this is for your own good."

Before Ali could respond, she felt her mind slip into shadow as she struggled to explain herself. She knew her maker was distraught and was in dire need of comfort. But the doll could only form a faint smile before her body collapsed. Alia made sure to confirm her drug's effect before dropping her act and bursting into tears.

"You don't have to do this," A high-pitched voice called out from the dark.

"I can't resist it much longer. I know she doesn't deserve this, but what choice do I have?" Alia sobbed.

"You can always let her comfort you," the voice replied. "Spend your last days smiling."

"I'm sorry," the dark-skinned girl sighed as she placed a frail hand on her small chest. "But I lost that chance long ago."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

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Ali woke with a sudden gasp, her body more confused than ever. After recollecting her thoughts, she began to cry as pain surged through her body. Ali longed for her maker, but couldn't seem to find her in the sporadic moments of torture she experienced. As far as the doll understood, she was a prisoner of sorts, locked away and punished for some unknown crime. But somehow Ali knew that was not the case. The real truth of the matter was still a mystery.

"Why," Ali whispered as her mind began to race. "What did I do wrong".

The doll then began to struggle, breaking free from the paralyzing sensation that swept over her petite form. Once she learned to move enough, she rolled herself off the bed, crashing onto the floor with a painful thud. But no amount of pain and fear would stop the brave doll. She was dead set on finding her maker and uncovering the answers she needed.

"Where are you Alia," the doll sniffled as she brushed aside her black-stained tears.

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"So finicky," Alia scoffed as she connected three metallic fingers with a crunch.

In a nearby room, the strange girl toiled over a twisted machine with a hideous design. She seemed to have changed her persona and had the most unamused look on her face. Consumed by her work, Alia had soon encircled herself with a small army of twisted figures.

The room she dwelt in was quite unlike the doll's comfy bedroom. Tattered black curtains lined the wall, their long drapes covering what little light could peer through the building's windows. Similar to Cora, the strange girl lived on the outskirts of Lacuna, with a rocky mesh firmly placed beneath her feet. But her abode seemed even more dilapidated, with dark oak furniture and oil-powered lamps scattered throughout the room. Out of all the mysteries that surrounded the dark-skinned girl, her age was the most obvious.

"It's all just part...of a plan," she stammered as she climbed down a squeaky wooden ladder. "Just tell her that Alia, it's a plan. It's alright.

Alia knew better than anyone she might as well have been drunk that night. She would blabber and wince as if trying to convince herself all was going to plan. Occasionally she would even drop everything to stare at the ceiling with an unmoving gaze. The chandelier that hung above hadn't been used in centuries, or so she thought. Not even the vast bookcase that lined her wall seemed touched, its once-loved collection having been long forsaken.

The dark-skinned girl was no beggar. She lived in luxury, surrounded by antiques and ornate decorations stylized in the image of her own dark apparel. But Alia had simply chosen to leave it all to rot. She hadn't the time to concern herself with distractions and comforts.

"Just a little longer. She's almost ready."

"Alia!" Ali cried, peering out of a nearby door.

"Oh speak of the angel, there she is. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" The dark-skinned girl replied as she attempted to keep her composure intact.

It was imperative that Alia not share her plans with the doll. That was the plan from day one. And no matter how lost she felt, the twisted creator would do her best to keep her lips sealed.

Ali ignored the meaningless response and swiftly hobbled her way to the reluctant maker. Before Alia could protest, she was met with a warm embrace from the doll. Everything had already begun to fall apart in the mind of the creator.

"You shouldn't be here," Alia muttered as she resisted the hug.

"I wanted to help," The doll whimpered. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong I-."

"Then what should I do? Why did you make me?"

The dark-skinned girl scoffed as she pushed the doll away. Before Ali could attempt another move, she received a cold slap across the face, sending her flying back.

"I said get off," Alia growled as she prepared another blow.

But upon witnessing her creation's feeble wince, Alia stayed her hand. No matter how many times she pretended to be cruel, she hadn't the heart to continue the abuse. Alia knew time was running out. After coming to grips with her defeat, she allowed the doll to stay.

Ali, on the other hand, was no fool. She had seen her own body, how every other machine Alia had created paled in comparison to her beauty. She wasn't some trash being thrown away. The doll was the coup de grâce - the final product of her creator's life work. It was for that reason Ali was so terribly confused.

"Tell me, doll. Why do you still wish to live?" Alia sighed. "You have every reason to jump off that balcony there."

"You made me like this. I can feel it," Ali explained as she rubbed her bruised cheek. "I feel I must be with you. Is that not why you made me?

"Forget why I made you. Yes, you are intelligent, I mean look at you figure things out all from your bedroom. But you need more. Are you truly afraid to die?"

Alia was hoping she had crafted a resilient coward. She needed the doll to fight for her life, yet never defend herself. It would be an impossible mix to achieve. But impossible would be the bare minimum if she planned to succeed.

"I…"

"Were you scared when I hurt you?"

"Yes."

"Good then. You might just be ready for what comes next."

But Ali was not yet content. She wanted answers to her dilemma. But Alia could see through the motive with a single glance.

"You'll learn soon enough," Alia smiled, knowing full well why the doll appeared so intelligent. "Stay here and watch if that's what you really want, over there by the bookcase. Just keep your distance."

"Oh, I-," Ali paused, shocked at the generous offer. "I would like that. Seeing you makes me...happy."

"Good, enjoy this while it lasts."

For Alia knew nothing in the world remained intact while she was around. And as the doll sat beside her tallest shelf, the cruel creator resumed her work. The small army she had created wasn't just for show after all.