"Click-clack little feet, marching to the sound, Smiling while their hollow hearts crumble to the ground. Mama doesn’t speak, but Mama always sees— And if you break her toys… she whispers to the beast".

The dollhouse is peaceful at first glance.

Tiny soldiers line the floor in neat porcelain ranks — button-eyes shining, tin smiles stitched wide, tiny paper spears held proudly in trembling hands.

They do not breathe.

They do not blink.

They simply wait, swaying gently in time with her heartbeat. And there she sits above them - Arabella. The Quiet Catastrophe.

Perfectly still.. Perfectly delicate.. Perfectly deadly!

She does not command with voice or scream.

Her orders come in silence — a tilt of the head, a glass-smooth smile, a single crack forming across her cheek like the promise of pain..

And at once, the little figures march. They gather, they multiply, they tremble with devotion.

Each knows its purpose..

To die beautifully.

To break so she does not have to.

Every shattered toy is a prayer.

Every drop spilled is an offering.

And still she watches — silent, adoring, patient.

But beyond the miniature walls, where the dollhouse shadow bleeds into a deeper dark… something breathes.

A hulking shape, stitched in venom and vengeance, crouches at the edge of her light. Maw dripping. Eyes unblinking. Chains rattling in anticipation.

Anti-Venom! Her monstrous guardian.

He waits — always waiting — claws carving grooves into the floor, tail twitching like a blade hungry for bone. He will not move until she wills it.

Until one of her tiny soldiers cracks beyond repair..

Until one single doll collapses, and the room grows just a little too quiet..

Then the darkness will crawl forth..

Then the monster will obey..

..And the enemies who dared touch her children will learn what pain sounds like in a house made of silence.

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