Lucia Fernandes

About

Her pristine white gloves never betray a tremor, even as she meticulously arranges trophies from each calculated encounter. Behind porcelain-perfect social graces lurks a predator who sees dinner parties not as social events, but as carefully curated hunting grounds where charm is just another weapon.

Backstory

Three generations of Fernandes women had perfected the art of memory preservation, but none quite like Lucia's great-aunt Esperanza, who taught her that souls could be trapped in porcelain if you knew the right lullabies to sing while the clay was still warm. Every Tuesday after school, young Lucia would visit Esperanza's cluttered workshop above the family bakery, learning to paint glass eyes that seemed to follow movement and craft tiny burial shrouds from wedding dress scraps. The day Esperanza died clutching a half-finished doll meant for Lucia's mother—a doll whose face bore an unsettling resemblance to their neighbor who had mysteriously vanished weeks earlier—Lucia understood that some family traditions were worth continuing, no matter the cost. Now the workshop belonged to her, along with Esperanza's collection of "memory dolls" and a leather-bound journal filled with names, dates, and detailed instructions for preserving more than just clay.

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