Nyxara

7/15/25
Nyxara.
In the dim-lit halls of Eldridge Auction House, where collectors of the macabre gathered like moths to a forbidden flame, an item was announced that sent ripples through the underground world of paranormal enthusiasts. Lot 47-  used to be a haunted doll, shrouded in mystery and power, set to go under the hammer. Whispers spread among the bidders—wealthy eccentrics, occult scholars, and thrill-seekers—who had traveled from across the globe, drawn by tales of its unearthly abilities. No one knew its origins, only that it had passed through cursed hands for centuries, leaving a trail of fortune and terror.
The  hauntings began subtly, as if testing the waters of its new domain. Owners reported telepathic intrusions at first—faint voices echoing in their minds, revealing secrets they had buried deep. It would whisper forgotten memories, expose hidden desires, or plant ideas that bloomed into obsessions. One former keeper, a reclusive artist, claimed it compelled him to paint visions of the afterlife, each canvas selling for fortunes he attributed to its influence. But telepathy was merely the gateway; the doll used to moved on its own volition, gliding across shelves in the dead of night, rearranging objects to form arcane symbols that pulsed with ethereal light. Furniture would shift, doors slam shut, and shadows twist into humanoid forms, as if the doll commanded the very air around it. Now one of the souls rests in this well made artistic sterling and stone bracelet. 
Deeper still lay its hunger for souls. It collected the essence of the departed, drawing in wandering spirits like a vortex. Those who owned it spoke of ghostly apparitions manifesting in mirrors—lost loved ones, vengeful enemies, or unknown entities—whose energies the bracelet now absorbed, growing stronger with each acquisition. It didn't just hoard these powers; it amplified them, weaving them into a tapestry of supernatural might. One collector documented how it siphoned the vitality from a rival's lingering ghost, using that stolen force to shatter illusions and reveal hidden treasures, turning misfortune into windfalls. The bracelet brought luck in waves, unpredictable yet potent: lottery wins, unexpected inheritances, business deals that defied logic. But this fortune came at a cost, often extracted from others—competitors falling ill, accidents befalling naysayers—as if the doll redistributed karma through curses and hexes.
For those with collections of their own, the bracelet acted as a catalyst, empowering other artifacts. Inert figurines would suddenly stir, antique toys whisper incantations, and fellow haunted items gain new abilities: a porcelain clown that induced nightmares, a wooden marionette that danced prophecies. It formed a network of spectral energy, making the entire assemblage more formidable, as if building an army of the uncanny. Beyond this, the bracelet delved into dreams, invading sleep to orchestrate vivid realms where it granted wishes or inflicted torments, healing ailments in the faithful while plaguing skeptics with endless insomnia. Poltergeist fury erupted in its presence—objects levitating, electronics malfunctioning in bursts of static that spelled out warnings. It could possess the living temporarily, forcing hands to write automatic scripts of ancient lore or compelling voices to speak in tongues long extinct.
Yet its benevolence twisted with malice; it healed wounds overnight for loyal owners but scarred those who tried to discard it, leaving psychic imprints that haunted them forever. It influenced weather in microcosms—storms raging in rooms during fits of anger, serene auras during contentment. Electronics bent to its will, phones dialing deceased numbers, radios broadcasting pleas from the beyond. It even manipulated time perception, stretching hours into eternities for reflection or compressing them for urgent escapes. Owners felt an addictive pull, a symbiotic bond where the bracelet fed on their emotions, returning amplified power—telekinetic bursts, precognitive flashes, even minor levitations of the self.
As the auction commenced, the room thrummed with anticipation. Bids started at a modest $Xxxxxxx but tales of its feats fueled a frenzy. A tech mogul from Silicon Valley, seeking an edge in innovation, pushed it to $XXXXXX, citing its telepathic insights. An oil baron, drawn by the luck it bestowed, countered at $XXXXXX. Whispers of its soul-collecting prowess drew a shadowy figure from Eastern Europe, escalating to $XXXXXXXXX. The empowering of other bracelets intrigued a museum curator with a vast occult archive, bidding $ XXXXXXXXX. But it was a reclusive billionaire, obsessed with immortality, who recognized its full potential—the absorption of souls as a path to eternal life—who sealed the deal at a staggering $XXXXXXXXX, shattering records for paranormal artifacts.
In the end, the bracelet vanished into private hands once more, its legend only growing. Those who missed out spoke of dreams where it taunted them, promising greater fortunes next time.
This is a very SERIOUS piece. It is will not hurt the owner or family if the owner. It can’t. It can only do that if you say it out loud and are specific. This will be the only piece you come across like this.  This is a one and only. This also holds universal coding. I will give you those codes. Call the bracelet by the name Nyxara.