Tina The Bunny Maid -final- By Mikiy < iPhone TRENDING >

Tina spun, duster raised like a sword. A small, spider-like automaton clung to the adjacent gear. Its single ruby eye flickered weakly. This was Pipsqueak, the Viscount’s long-forgotten clockwork valet, half-crushed in a wardrobe accident forty years ago.

Tina unrolled the Viscount’s will. It was written on a napkin from the Eclipse Café, his handwriting shaky but clear: Tina the Bunny Maid -Final- By MikiY

The Final Maintenance had been scheduled for today. Tina had known it was coming. The Viscount’s soul-clock, the delicate orrery of brass and starlight embedded in his chest, had been winding down for a decade. He had told her last spring, while she dusted his collection of impossible fossils. Tina spun, duster raised like a sword

She opened the inspection panel. Inside, the great brass gears were not rusted. They were petrified . A crystalline fungus had grown between the teeth, locking everything in place. Tina touched it with a gloved fingertip. It was cold. And it was spreading. Tina had known it was coming

“You’re late,” he said. “The tea is cold.”

“I know, my Lord.”

When Tina descended the stairs, the manor was alive again. The chandeliers blazed with soft, firefly light. The floors gleamed. The silver bells on her cap sang. And there, in the Sunroom, sitting in his high-backed chair with a cup of steaming tea already waiting, was Lord Alistair.