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「𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍」

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

• • • • • • •

Gia

The forest had grown thicker as the three women made their journey, but through the gaps in the branches of the towering trees, the sky had turned the colour of a bruise, pink and lilac. It was beneath this sky that Gia ran her hand along the face of a tree that showed its age in its well-gnarled trunk. The spirits should be strong here in the forest, Gia knew, and those that remained were saying something, something, something...

But what...?

Gia turned just as Roslin halted mid-step and craned her head upward in the last, dying light of the evening. So she felt it, too, then.

"What is it, sister?" Blodwyn asked Roslin. Her hood was drawn and her face shadowed—how she kept it more oft than not as of late.

Roslin shrugged her shoulders and pulled the hood of her own cloak back before answering, "Something just doesn't feel right." The middle sister tucked her hair behind her ears. "Words fail to do it justice, I fear."

"I feel it, too. We should keep moving," Blodwyn said, voice firm as she linked her arm through Roslin's. The pair fell in step with one another, their eyes landing again on Gia, who was crouched by the base of the oak tree as she listened to her younger sisters speak. Her palm was pressed flat against the bark as she tried one last, hopeless time to get a feel for whatever it was that had been through this forest—something so dark that even the spirits dare not say its name, if it had one at all.

Gia felt tears prick her eyes and stood before turning fully to face her sisters, her fingers lingering against the tree just a moment longer. "Something dark has been here...or is here. So dark is it that even the spirits shy from its presence. They've left this place." She fell in line on the other side of Blodwyn and said nothing further.

The name, though known by all three sisters, went unspoken.

They walked the pine straw-strewn path in silence, but the air itself grew stifling as they pressed further forward, the sky transforming to an almost unnatural inky black.

Blodwyn snapped her fingers. A sphere of magelight formed and hovered in front of them, guiding their way through the gnarled roots of the forest floor in the blackness of night. The shadows darkened and lengthened around them, like the claws of a monster unfurling and reaching for them.

It was Roslin who halted again, her green eyes wide and scanning the shadows as though sensing something the others did not. Blodwyn reached for the dagger forever worn at her side and Gia closed her eyes to focus on the sounds around her.

Not now, begged Gia inwardly. Whatever happens, please don't let it be now, not while we're so depleted.

A sudden woosh cut through the air that had been still and otherwise silent a moment before.

As one, the sisters commanded Phós and Blodwyn's magelight strengthened and brightened, widening the circle of light around them and pushing back the edges of darkness.

The three stood their ground and closed ranks, backs to one another—their options were few, and retreat was not among them.

"Fuck," hissed Blodwyn, whose dagger was at the ready.

Fuck indeed. They were surrounded. From the shadows came the dead-eyed glares of the order the sisters had grown so well acquainted with.

Gia's heart stuttered in her chest, but she held steadfast and outwardly showed no fear. "This again," she said with a feigned disinterest. "The First Evil."

The First Evil had laid dormant for centuries. Why it was rearing its ugly head—its wicked, cruel, purple-eyed head—again after all this time, the sisters did not know. For months, they had been working toward banishing it, yet no matter how they tried and tried and tried again, their attempts were in vain. They had started this journey as practical witches and casual casters of magic—far from the great sorcerers of old who had last banished the First centuries before.

All the signs indicated they needed to make a journey North, as the spirits had said to Gia, which would lead to help and answers.

But perhaps Fate had other plans.

"Well, well, well...If it isn't the three bitches," a towering man with a scar running down his face sneered at the women, clearly thinking himself quite clever. Blodwyn's grip visibly tightened on her dagger and the man chuckled. "We've been having a fun little game of cat and mouse, haven't we?"

The others in his company laughed as the man walked closer, his hand outstretched. "The Master isn't happy with you three. You've been tryin' to bind him...Trying to stop him." Up close, the man's eyes were all black and he reeked of death. A vessel or a shell of something once living, once a man, but no longer either of those things.

Blodwyn held her head high and returned the man's sneer. "If we don't stop him, someone else will. But I like our chances." She moved quickly. The blade in her hand was a flash of black shadow as it sliced across the man's throat.

Blodwyn whirled away, graceful as if she were dancing, as another man slashed at her. "Bitch!" snarled this one. "You're going to–"

He never finished his sentence. He dropped to his knees, sword falling from his hand as he burned from the inside out, his blood turned to fire in his veins. Gia's hand glowed hellish red as her forearms seared orange with fire magic. She reeled and raised her hands to another member of the First approaching her from behind. They stood in a stalemate: a blade in his hands, fire in hers.

"Leave now," she bade. "Run back to your Master with your tail between your legs. Tell him to stop this."

"Stop this?" spat the man in the guttural accent of the distant Et-hi. "He's just getting started." He lunged, then, and struck out for Gia with his curved blade. She danced aside and set his skin aflame with a flourish of her hands.

Another assailant barreled forth from the sidelines, previously unseen in the shadows: an unnaturally horned woman who also smelled of death and something inhuman. She raced forward to Gia, dagger held high, only to abruptly fall flat. "Shit!" she cursed as he scrambled on her hands and knees. Her ankles were tangled in a thick root jutting from the ground.

Roslin stood on the other side of the root, eyes dark and face shadowed beneath her hood.

The root moved.

The horned woman gasped.

It was pulling on her leg, pulling on her, dragging her with a sickening crunch beneath the forest floor. "No–," she rasped, eyes rolling wildly with pain. Her hands clawed at the damp earth, garnering only fistfuls of rotting leaves and nothing solid to grab onto. "Get back here and fight!" she screamed. In spite of the edge to her voice, her face was wrought with fear beneath a tangle of matted black hair. "Coward! Whore! Crones, the lot of you!" With an agonising twist and snap of shattering bones,her body contorted beneath the surface of the earth.

The ground swallowed her whole.

Silence.

That was the end of her and of all of them.

Roslin didn't look at the spot as she passed. "They're getting more brazen," she said to Gia and Blodwyn. With the tip of her boot, she kicked away the runed knife one of them had been wielding. "They're aware of what we're doing. And I think they're aware we're getting stronger, too." Rolsin's face was ashen, the dark circles of sleepless nights and near-endless horrors giving her a hollow, haunted look.

Blodwyn was cleaning the blood from one of her obsidian-edged daggers. "Then we need to keep doing it." She passed her fingers over the blade and the blood vanished as if never there at all.

Gia nodded. "The First Evil was dormant for centuries. That means there's a way to banish it, if we could just...just figure out what that is. The stories fail to mention that part." The three sisters stood there in the ghoulish white glare of Blodwyn's magelight. Gia was frustrated. They were all frustrated. They'd been destroying the Evil bit by bit for months on end but had no proof of a long-term solution.

Worse, they didn't know why it had awoken in the first place.

Or why it had targeted them.

Still, Gia squared her shoulders and held up her chin. "If anyone can do it," she started, looking between Blodwyn and Roslin, "it's us. The three of us." There were times that she was beginning to believe that their optimism was folly, more of a detriment than anything else. There was no running from it now, though, so they could at least feign confidence in themselves if all else failed.

Blodwyn hummed in agreement, spinning her dagger carelessly in one hand. "They keep setting themselves up and we'll keep knocking them down," she said, then the corner of her mouth quirked up as she glanced between the other two witches. "Gods be good; you two were on fire." She pointed the tip of her blade toward two of the smouldering bodies on the ground. "And they were literally on fire. Impressive spellwork, Gia."

Gia bowed her head and curtsied theatrically. "Desperate times, desperate measures."

Roslin was looking down at one of the men whose throats Blodwyn had opened. She nudged at his corpse with one foot just as she had with the blade. "They'll always be there, won't they?" She turned his face away with the tip of her boot. "They'll follow us wherever we go. We're always going to have to be on edge."

Gia took one of Roslin's hands in her own. "Maybe so," she said, "but we're safe as long as we're together. I won't let anything hurt either of you."

"She's right," agreed Blodwyn. "Between the three of us, we can..." Her voice trailed off mid-sentence. The three witches all stilled at once, sensing something in the forest. Something dark, something familiar, something that dripped with that same dread and decay.

Blodwyn ripped a knife from beneath her cloak. "Get–"

The First descended on them like hounds, tearing from the darkness with an unexpected speed. There had been little warning, little premonition, no whispers from the spirits. Steel sang on steel as Blodwyn parried a blow from one sword, then another. Fire blazed where Gia incinerated one man. No sooner did the first fall than a second rushed in to take his place, lance in hand. Roslin drove a spike of ice through his chest, only for hands to grab her cloak from behind. She reeled and made to elbow the unseen assailant in his face only to take a blow to the jaw herself. The ground rose up to meet her, and with a cry of startled anger, she tore a blade from her bodice and swiped at his legs.

Blood sprayed. Fire roared. There were so many attackers that the witches couldn't keep count.

They fell, they got up again. Their magelight faltered, flickering in the darkness, as they forced all of their energy and all of their magic into fighting back the First. It was impressive, truthfully, how many members of the order the three women felled for casters with so little practise in anything remotely close to battle.

It was an all-out attack. This was planned,Gia realised. The first attack, then the second. They meant to lower our guards and let us expend our magic. Back to back to back the witches stood, driven backwards into their circle. Gia's own skin burned from the exertion of such intense magic, blood ran red through a tear in Blodwyn's tunic, and Roslin's hands shook so badly she couldn't hold a blade.

A man with a tangle of dark curls and a hooked nose stepped forward. "Looks like you're out of options," he said. "Outmatched, outnumbered." Undergrowth crunched beneath his feet as he held the tip of his sword up to Blodwyn. "You're particularly feisty," he said, "I think I'll take you for myself when the Master's done with you...If there's anything left to be had."

"Don't you touch her," hissed Roslin. Her voice was as hoarse and as unsteady as her hands. "Stay back, I'm warning you."

"Or what?" The man laughed. He looked over his shoulder and said, "Hear that? She's warning me. What are you going to do? Bleed on me? You're out of magic, which means you're out of options." There were at least fifteen members of the First surrounding them, still, even with how many the witches had cut through.

Gia lunged forward, hands blazing bright. She swung at him, her magic (or what was left of it) cutting through the air like a blade. He staggered back and brandished his own blade at her.

Into the fray the three witches went again.

The words rang in Gia's head.

Out of options. With a wave of Roslin's hand, vines wrapped around one of the assailant's throats and dragged him upwards, effectively hanging him.

Outmatched. Blodwyn sent a shadowblade sailing with deathly, deathly precision.

Outnumbered. Gia drove her dagger into one of the fighter's sternums and twisted.

In the din of battle, they hadn't heard the rhythmic, telltale thunder of hooves approaching until they were upon them. Gia opened her mouth to yell but was cut short.

A spray of blood and one of the lackey's heads was rended from his shoulders. Gia let out a startled cry and lurched backward away from the chestnut mare. She raised her hands, flaring with the fading, angry red glow of magic.

A masked rider looked over his shoulder at her as he rode past, a morning star in one hand and a spiked shield strapped to the other. The First was caught entirely off guard by the arrival of the riders.

However brief, all three witches had felt the sickening aura of the First Evil, the black dread warning of the order's approach. But looking at the rider, Gia felt...

There was no time to think, nor to feel. Two more riders followed, both on black coursers. One carried a sword, the other a bow. All three were masked. There was no time, Gia knew, to ask questions. Fire roared and Gia struck forward, dealing one last fatal blow before Gia dropped to one knee. Blodwyn followed suit with a spark of poisonous green magic flashing in her hand.

Then it was over.

At last the world stilled again, and the three witches were left with the three riders there in the dark of the forest.

Again, though, the women were circled in.

Blodwyn skipped the pleasantries. "Who are you?" she demanded. Her hold on her dagger never slackened in spite of her exhaustion.

"I think the words you're looking for are thank you," replied the rider with the spiked shield.

Blodwyn scoffed. "You don't want me to say the word I'm looking for."

The witches collectively studied the riders, eyes searching wildly for any indication of who they might be and coming up short. They were dressed in fitted black cloaks and wore silvered full-face masks that gave no indication of the men beneath. In the darkness, Roslin quietly found Gia's hand and took it, squeezing. All three of their hearts beat with the same frantic uncertainty.

"We know who you are," the rider with the shield almost taunted. "How could we not?" His masked face turned and studied each of the witches. "Blodwyn Terran...Roslin Adair..." he paused, taking extra time to examine the final witch. "...And Gia Amethyst."

Gia shrank back upon feeling his unseen eyes on her. She looked anywhere but at him.

Blodywn didn't lower her blade. "That's nice," she said, "but you didn't answer my question."

He sighed. "You live up to the rumours, don't you?"

Blodwyn's eyes narrowed and her knuckles went white around the hilt of her dagger.

"Fuck's sake," drawled the rider with the bow. "This is getting us nowhere." He set his bow in his lap, reached up, and took off his mask. He blinked and tossed shaggy brown hair from his eyes. "My name is Daeron Dusk. Happy?" He turned in his saddle and nodded at the other rider; the one who had been silent up until this point.

The quiet rider sheathed his sword and then drew back his hood. The hair beneath was so brown it was nearly black, and when he took off his mask, his skin beneath was as fair as his eyes were blue. "My name is Jon Wren."

The way Roslin's grip on Gia's hand tightened almost imperceptibly did not go unnoticed by Gia.

The shield-bearing rider laughed. "That leaves me, doesn't it?" He, too, drew back his hood, revealing a wild swath of brown curls. "Edric," he sighed as he pushed his mask up over his forehead. He was the youngest of the riders, with big brown eyes and full lips.

It was Gia's turn to squeeze Roslin's hand.

If Blodwyn was affected by the men's collective charm at all, she did not show it. "Great," she said flatly. "Why are you here?"

The one named Jon answered. "We've been sent to find you." He fastened his mask to a clip at his hip. "We're to take you back to Darkhaven Castle at once to answer summons."

Gia's brow furrowed. "Darkhaven Castle? Where is that?" The sisters had never been so far North and West in the Realm before. Little and less was known to them about the kingdoms housed in this expanse of the Realm.

There was silence. At last, Daeron huffed and answered gruffly, "Can't say."

Blodwyn raised her dagger again. "Who sent you?"

Daeron's eyes narrowed. "Can't say."

Edric smirked. "Are we going to stand in the forest all night? I, for one, veto that idea."

"Can't say," Blodwyn told him.

"Tell us how to get there," said Gia, folding her arms across her chest. "We can't go if we don't know where it is that we're going."

"Unless you want us to run along behind your horses like squires," japed Blodwyn. When she saw Daeron's eyebrow cock, she added, "Which we're not doing."

"As much as that idea tickles me, you'll be riding with us, ladies," Edric smiled down at them.

"We most certainly will not," Blodwyn said.

"You most certainly will," replied Edric.

The three women stood there in silence. Gia was burned, and Blodwyn was bleeding, and Roslin swayed where she stood. They had neither camp nor food, not to mention money nor map, and were surrounded by corpses. They'd spent days straight on the hunt for answers. The exhaustion hung around them palpably.

Gia searched Edric's face. Something inside of her answered something inside of him. "How do we know this isn't a trap? We just walked into one trap; we don't need to walk into another," she told him.

Edric cocked his head and smiled down at her. "You'll just have to trust me, won't you?" He extended one gloved hand down to her expectantly, waiting.

She glanced between her sisters. "We don't have many options."

Roslin nodded. "I agree."

Blodwyn, too, sighed with bitter resignation. She said nothing, just sheathed her blade, which was answer enough from the youngest sister.

Gia took Edric's hand, and when she did, a fire kindled itself in her all over again. Does he feel it too? She wondered. Gia tried not to meet his gaze as he pulled her up onto the horse. She also tried not to feel the fine muscle beneath his cloak when she held onto him.

Daeron said nothing, jutting a hand downward to Blodwyn in resigned silence. She smacked it away. "I know how to mount a horse," she told him curtly. The archer just rolled his eyes as the witch's foot crammed into the stirrup alongside his own. She yanked on his cloak—hard, purposefully hard—as she pulled herself up, smirking as he rocked in his saddle from the motion.

Jon reined his courser up beside Roslin. "Lady Adair," he addressed her, offering a gloved hand.

"I'm no lady," she said, taking it. Too exhausted to argue, she allowed him to pull her up.

"Miss��Adair," he corrected himself.

"Better." She settled in behind him, and though Jon couldn't see it, Gia could, indeed, see the flush on Roslin's face. The middle sister always had a weakness for handsome men.

I suppose I'm no better, thought Gia, who loosened her too-familiar grip on Edric's shoulder. What's gotten into me?

Edric dropped his mask back down over his face, concealing his characteristic smirk, and put his heels into his chestnut mare. Three riders and three witches disappeared into the darkness.

The three riders kept the horses trotting at a steady pace for most of the evening.

The trail through the valley was wide enough for the horses to be ridden abreast, keeping the sisters close together. The quiet, at least, allowed Gia time to reflect on the events that had transpired.

This time it had been a little too close to ending badly. She glanced across at her sisters. To Gia's right, Blodwyn's brow was furrowed as she held Daeron's cloak reluctantly; she sat upright and rigid, permitting herself no comfort. Conversely, on Gia's left, Roslin had one hand on Jon's shoulder but seemed to be nodding and then blinking herself awake again.

Jon's voice broke Roslin from her half-asleep-half-awake state. "Are you okay back there, Miss Adair?"

Roslin rubbed at one eye with the heel of her hand. "Yes...I'm just a little tired. We all are, I suppose."

The sisters had been travelling for weeks, seeking out information and leads, ways to defeat the First Evil. Now that Gia thought about it, it was a tip from a man in the hovel that was White River, their most recent stop, that had led them to the forest. A trap? she wondered.

Jon's voice broke their thoughts once more. "I'm not surprised. Though, I must say, I am glad that the stories about your powers had no base in falsehood. Though, I am thankful we arrived when we did." His voice was warm and steady when he spoke, gentle. The same as Roslin's.

"How was it you came upon us? Have you been following us? Or is that a secret, too?" Rosin asked. She shifted in the saddle.

"We haven't been following you, but we were told that you'd been in White River seeking answers...and so were we. We were sent to find you and decided to cut through the forest as a shortcut. It was only by sheer luck we found you."

Luck, thought Gia, or Fate?

Roslin turned to look at Gia and their eyes met. Both instinctively smiled at the other in spite of the weariness felt at their very core.

To Gia's right, Daeron gave his horse another kick and wobbled slightly. Blodwyn was forced to tighten her grip on his cloak. "You know it might be easier if you place your hands on my shoulders or somethin'. You're pulling me all over the place," came Daeron's drawl that was little more than a growl.

"You should be grateful I'm even riding with you, stranger." Blodwyn grinned slightly at the sound of the man's sigh that followed.

"You should be grateful we arrived when we did."

His words made Blodwyn's grin falter, and her brow returned to its usual furrow. "I suppose you're right, but my sisters and I had it in hand. We survived plenty fine before you three came along. Don't underestimate us, Daeron. Most people regret it when they do."

Roslin visibly cringed at the threat.

At this, Daeron laughed a forced laugh, and the corner of his mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. "So you do remember my name."

When she spoke, her voice was calm. "Just focus on riding and not getting us killed."

A much-welcomed silence followed. The world around them was dark and sang the song of crickets and frogs and whip-poor-wills unseen but heard all the same. Lanterns whose flames never guttered hung at the sides of the riders' horses. Otherwise, all was dark.

I'll rest my eyes for a moment, Gia lied to herself. Only a moment.

?????

Three crowns once forged, three crowns to wear,

Heavy is the weight to bear.

A crown of shadow, antlered, gleaming,

Crowned by power, cunning, scheming.

A crown of ruby, rightly named,

Twin of two and forged in flame.

A crown of gold, a crown of horns,

Gilded roses, gilded thorns.

Three crowns once forged, three crowns to wear,

Three fates sealed, three shrouds to share.

"Such the oracle has spoken?"

"Such the oracle has spoken."

"So be it, then."

"Do you not worry, your grace?"

"All I heard was three shrouds to share. When I am through, there will be nothing left to shroud."

Gia

The sun was rising.

Gia's head snapped up and she cast a glance between her sisters. They were fine—they were there, both of them. Still there. Still safe. She silently thanked the gods and spirits alike that they'd all survived the night.

But how did I manage to sleep so long ahorse? Such a thing was unheard of for Gia, and even moreso for Blodwyn, who, judging by the (very disgruntled) look of things, had also slept.

Every part of Gia's body ached, and her hair felt like a tangled mess as she brushed it away from her face.

"You're awake?"

"I wasn't asleep," said Gia at once. Her mouth felt dry, as if filled with cotton, and a flush crept up her cheeks. "I was just...thinking." Her words felt awkward in her mouth, and she was thankful that she couldn't see his eyes, knowing they would stir emotions she had long suppressed—feelings she had denied herself for years.

Something she had refused, spurned, not allowed herself to feel.

"Well, you can think or sleep as much as you like. I promise to keep you safe, Gia." His voice was kind, and the sound sent a rush of heat to her cheeks.

She lowered her hand from fussing with her hair, resigned that it was indeed a tangled mess, and rested it around his waist once more. "Doesn't your mask make you warm? I don't know how you manage to ride so well while wearing it." Gia winced inwardly, feeling her words were clumsy and naive. "Also, how did you know who we were, anyway?"

Edric pushed the mask up from his face and she could hear something akin to disbelief in his voice when he spoke. "Everyone knows who you are. The Three Sisters are known in every corner of the land; I'm surprised you aren't aware of that."

Gia shrugged, frowning slightly. "My sisters and I keep to ourselves. Ours is a quiet life... Humankind has been kind to neither us nor our ancestors, so we live cautiously."

Ancestors, she thought, my mother was no ancestor.

"Well, humanity may change its opinion. If the signs are true, many people will be grateful to have you on their side."

Perhaps he had the right of it. Perhaps this place—Darkhaven—would be kinder to practisers of magic than their home kingdom of Prinella, but Gia was not one to so easily put faith in...well, anything. Not these riders, kind though they may be, and certainly not a kingdom whose name she'd never so much as seen on a map.

Gia opened her mouth to ask another question when she noticed that Edric and the others were slowing down. The woods around them had begun to thin out–a detail she'd neglected to notice with such attention focused on Edric.

The party approached a gray stone archway with black wooden gates and thick green vines twisting around the stone pillars. Roslin visibly lifted her gaze, peering over Jon's shoulder almost excitedly.

Jon turned slightly and offered Roslin a gentle smile as he addressed the party. "The outer gate. We're here, my ladies. Once we pass through the gate and cross the bridge, we'll be at Darkhaven Castle. You can rest here."

Blodwyn, too, was eyeing the gates when she told him, "Tired though I may be, I'd rather have answers. I have many questions—we all do."

"I agree," said Roslin. "I couldn't possibly sleep now."

Jon moved to the forefront of the party and raised his hand, and the gates slowly creaked open. "I promise you'll get your answers, Miss Adair."

She smiled. "Call me Roslin."

"Of course, Miss Roslin."

An unseen hand opened the gates. The six passed beneath the shadow of the gatehouses. Gia peered up at the arrowslits above. The many, many arrowslits.

It was as they passed beneath that bridge in the wall that Gia felt something shimmer over her like an unseen hand or a wind that wasn't there at all. It felt like...it felt like it stirred something in her that had been long since dormant—like she'd been drowning for years and never known it, and now she'd taken in that first, sudden, shuddering breath of air.

Something, but what? No name, no words could capture that feeling—that uninvited, unexpected feeling.

A voice that belonged to none of the party and spoke instead within Gia's own head greeted her. "Welcome to Darkhaven."

#challenge: can anyone guess who the three commanders are based off of?#writing #authors #writeblr #darkhaven #bellmare #rose #fantasy #fantasy writing #original story

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