Marie Laveau stood at the edge of her bayou, watching the mist curl between the cypress trees. She had clawed her way up from banishment, from death itself, and she would not stop until every settlement knew her name. Fear was easy to plant in soft ground. Respect took deeper roots. Jack arrived at dusk, stumbling through the shallows toward her house on stilts. Moss hung thick on the weathered walls, and a single candle flickered in the window like a warning. He climbed the wooden steps with something clutched in his fist. When he reached the porch, he opened his palm to show her a dull gold wedding band. "Make me rich," he said. "And I'll marry the woman who owns this ring." Marie studied him. Men like Jack came to her bayou with empty promises and greedy hearts. But if she turned him away, word would spread that she refused work. That she was losing her edge. She led him inside to the cauldron that sat heavy in the center of the room. Coins glinted beneath dark water, spinning slowly as if stirred by invisible hands. She dropped the ring into the depths and watched it sink. "You'll have your wealth," she said. "But the price is your word. Break it, and the coins will find their way back to me—with interest." Jack nodded, too eager to understand what he'd agreed to. When he left, the ring sat at the bottom of the cauldron, and Marie knew that whether he kept his promise or not, another soul would soon owe her a debt. One more step toward the legacy she demanded.