DARKHAVEN | "Three Sisters" Book One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Roslin

The mannequins, with their faceless heads and three-fingered hands, were almost frightening.

Yet, when Roslin walked into the training tower and saw them, she was as relieved as she was unsettled. At least they were doing something new today. She was progressing.

And maybe he won't trap me in the dark.

Roslin walked up to one of the wooden figures and inspected it. She rapped her fingertips on its face–tap tap tap–and tried turning its joints in their wooden sockets. When at last she was done inspecting them, there was nothing she could do but wait. Lord Novak always kept her waiting.

Something creaked on the far side of the training hall. Roslin felt a cold chill run the length of her spine at the sound. Slowly, she turned her head towards the furthermost mannequin. "Hello?" called the sister into the otherwise empty tower. Only her own voice answered as it echoed off of the domed stone walls.

Another creak from elsewhere in the room.

There was no denying it was the very distinct sound of creaking wood–like trees that groaned in the wind and hardwood floors that moaned beneath the feet of dancers.

Roslin stood. "Hello–"

A crack in between her shoulder blades sent her reeling. She screamed in terror as one of the mannequins lurched at her. Then another. They raised those awful three-fingered hands and grabbed her dress, her hair, the exposed skin of her arms. "Get off!" she commanded as she tried to get away, but their wooden grip was vice-like where they grabbed.

A third one lurched forward. Roslin saw it just in time to jerk away, but she was still held firm by the other two. With nowhere for her to run, the third one's arm came up around her neck, caught her throat in the crook of its elbow, and began to squeeze. Try as she might to kick them away, to swat at them with her hands, her efforts were fruitless.

The world began to fade to black just as a fourth mannequin started to move.

The mannequin choking Roslin spasmed wildly away. With a grotesque crunch, its limbs snapped, splintered, and shattered as the wooden fiend was ravaged from the inside out.

The next one splintered with an ear-piercing snap and fell, crushed as if an unseen hand had gathered the thing in its palm and squeezed it to the point of breaking. At the same time, the third was reduced to a pile of wood shavings.

The fourth froze when Roslin's gaze fixed on it.

Surely it wouldn't be so foolish as to–

It lunged at her with one wooden arm held high. Roslin ducked aside and raised her hand, her fingers curling into a claw-like shape as she called forth the frozen power of ice magic. With a swift motion, she thrust her hand forward, sending a blue-black blur hurtling through the air with deadly precision. It struck true with a resounding crack.

The mannequin lurched to a stop as permafrost consumed its body; it froze solid mid-sprint, toppled over, and shattered to pieces when it hit the ground.

Roslin stood breathless and bruised. What in the seven hells was that? she wondered as she looked around the room. None of the rest of the mannequins seemed to be moving.

But still.

When she turned to flee in terror, she found Novak standing in the doorway.

Of course she did.

"My Lord–" she looked at the wreckage around her "–I don't know what happened. I'm sorry, I can pay you back for them, but they all started moving and..."