bellmare-rose

[bellmare-rose]

「𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍」

CHAPTER FOUR

• • • • • • •

Gia

The Lords shared little and less about themselves over dinner, but their personalities bled through in the otherwise meaningless small talk all the same.

Gia wondered which of the Lords would train her or if they'd take turns. She hoped it was Aleksander. She hoped it wasn't Aleksander.

Yet the matches were making themselves.

She felt half a fool in front of Lord Aleksander, the way he made her skin burn and her tongue feel awkward in her mouth. Her head swam (though perhaps the wine contributed in part to that), and she grasped for words. His silver hair to match his silver tongue, red eyes that followed her every move with mild amusement, and a mouthful of fangs that had smiled for her.

Blodwyn had eyed and even gone so far as to banter with Lucien; his wit, his silver tongue, the way there was so clearly more brewing beneath the surface—chaos and trickery and a razor-sharp edge. The sisters all had felt his magic, how it rippled and shifted, writhing and living like a snake. 

Gia had never felt anything like it before and doubted she'd ever feel anything quite like it ever again. Shadow magic, she'd realised, the same as Blodwyn used, but much, much older...and then older still.

Another obvious match, then.

That left Novak. And Roslin. The middle sister's uncertainty and intrigue about him had not gone unnoticed by Gia. Aleksander and Lucien made no attempt to hide what they were: snakes in a garden. But Novak...whatever Novak was, he hid it deep down. A beast lurked beneath the surface, beneath a calm facade of control and command. Yes, it was well hidden beneath green eyes and golden hair, but it was there all the same. He sipped his wine carefully, listened well, and talked little. 

He was a force to be reckoned with...and Roslin was always one for reckoning.

The moment dinner was over and the sisters were back in their room, Blodwyn tore her dress from her body. She cursed as she kicked it away. "Who do they think they are?" she demanded as she rifled through the room's wardrobe in search of pants. "Dressing us up, making us attend their fancy dinner, and then insulting us? I have half a mind to–" she stopped mid-sentence as she pulled a beautiful black tunic and pants out of the wardrobe's drawers, again perfectly tailored to her size and taste. "Of course it is," she muttered.

It was almost irritating that the presumptuous, lordly bastards were catering to their every whim.

Gia was seated at the vanity and running a glass-handled brush through her hair. She'd changed into a simple white nightgown, which, much like Blodwyn's outfit, was made exactly to her size and liking.

"What do you think, sisters?" she asked, studying her own reflection. "About the Lords' proposal, of course, not the wardrobe. It's not just about us; it's for the good of the Realm, as dramatic as it sounds."

Roslin, standing at the window in an uncharacteristically lacy dressing gown, sighed in response. "I know we must," she started, "but what has the world ever done for us? If it wasn't going to take us down with it...if we could simply turn a blind eye..."

Gia shared the same haunted, hateful thoughts as Roslin. 

But Roslin and Gia both remembered the faces of those lost to the cruelty of humankind—people who reveled in their ignorance, who had taken so much.

Gia's own mother had been among them.

More, their cottage, once a home of their own making alone in the mountains, now lay in ruin, reduced to blackened stone. All for nothing—all for three practical witches with gardens of lavender and four red chickens in a hand-cobbled hutch.

Gia had always been that way—a storm, a fire, a maelstrom of upheaval and independence. She enjoyed the moments when she wasn't that person; those moments where she was afforded the luxury of lowering her guard. Those moments shared only with her sisters.

But that was Gia. 

Roslin...

Roslin, who had been a creature of gentleness, of kindness. She who, in spite of everything, clung to every scrap of humanity she could string together, if not just to keep everyone else happy. 

Had circumstances been kinder to Roslin, she'd have not a hateful fibre in her being, not a touch of malice behind those soft eyes and good-natured smile she shared so freely. 

It struck Gia, then, that this was the similarity between Roslin and Novak, the common thread they shared. 

They were painted portraits frozen in time; caricatures of what they had once been, maybe, but no longer were. And the only indication either of them gave was that thing that stirred behind their eyes, there one moment and gone the next. 

No, Gia told herself. Not Roslin. She is good and kind and gentle. She is all these things and always will be; my sweet, sweet sister. 

"But we must," Roslin said suddenly, turning away from the window. "We can't rest until the First is banished again, can we? We can never be free so long as the First walks the Realm."

Blodwyn, now dressed in her tunic, nodded in grim agreement. "And if these people know how to banish it...if they can...for the spirits' sake, if they can teach us... then that's what we must do."

"I'm glad you agree," said Gia, standing. With a sweep of her skirts, she pulled Blodwyn and Roslin into her arms. It was good to have them close—something real that she could still touch, still hold in her hands.

Too serious had grown the moment. Gia broke the forlorn silence with a giggle. "Is that really what you're sleeping in?" she asked Blodwyn.

Blodwyn scowled. "What do you mean?"

"You look like you're set to assassinate the High King, not go to bed," giggled Gia, and Roslin, too, laughed.

"I want to be prepared!" Wyn argued. "We don't know what these bastards have in mind for us."

Roslin sucked in her lips. "Bastards like Lucien? Or Daeron? I don't know, sister, you're looking mighty fine just for going to sleep."

Blodwyn's eyes flared. "You're a fine one to talk! You look like a sexy doily."

The three sisters howled with laughter. 

It felt good to laugh. They'd been so grim for so long, stretched so thin. It was the first chance they'd had to breathe in, gods, weeks. Gia smiled, her heart happy...

Just as a pillow collided with her back. For the first time in a long time, their laughter filled the night.

x

Blodwyn leaned back against the headboard, hands resting on her stomach as the last echoes of their laughter left their bodies. It had been a pillow fight like none other, and they laughed like they hadn't in a turn of the moon, maybe two. Now they collapsed at last—no fight to be fought, no laughter, no distractions. Just the three sisters and the company of the weariness deep in their bones.

Gia sat cross-legged, braiding her hair, her fingers moving absentmindedly. "I hope this isn't completely terrible of me to say, but...I do think Edric has the most wonderful eyes I've ever seen," she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

Blodwyn, halfway propped up on one elbow, grinned. "You like him? That's record time."

Gia shook her head a little too quickly, her voice unsteady. "I don't know him well enough to like him...I just..." She trailed off, unsure of what she was even trying to say. The emotions she had been holding back for so long seemed to be coming back all at once in one great rush since their arrival. She wasn't quite sure what she felt, but it was something. And something was better than numbness.

Roslin, at the foot of the bed, flung herself onto her back with dramatic flair, one hand draped over her eyes. "Oh, save me, Edric, save me!" she cried in a sing-song voice.

Both Roslin and Blodwyn broke into a braying fit of laughter as Gia's face and hair turned a deeper shade of red; the lingering effects of a silly enchantment from her teenage years she'd never bothered to reverse. It was, if nothing else, fun. 

Gia huffed, smoothed her hands along her hair, and returned it to its natural state with great indignance.

Roslin rolled onto her side and grinned impishly (and she was quite skilled at looking impish). "Or should I say...my Lord?" she teased, her smile widening knowingly.

Gia let out a gasp and nudged Roslin. "Now you're just being tiresome. I was only using the correct etiquette. Besides, you're one to talk!" She stood and, deepening her voice in mock seriousness, extended her hand. "Of course, Lady Adair! Let me pour you some wine, Lady Adair! That Jon couldn't take his eyes off you."

Roslin hissed, sitting upright with an indignant look of her own. "No such thing!" she declared, though her whole body flushed at the accusation. "He's a gentleman, that's all. He would've treated either of you the same."

Trying to divert attention from herself, Roslin's gaze snapped, sharklike, toward Blodwyn. "Though, some of us wouldn't know a gentleman if he bit us on our backsides...or helped us down off a horse."

Blodwyn, wide-eyed, crossed her arms defensively and kicked a blanket towards Roslin, who caught it in her arms and burst into girlish laughter. "No one will be biting my backside, thank you very much. No matter how biteable it may be."

Roslin mimicked Lucien's voice. "Not even Lord Lucien, my dear? My pet? My darling Blodwyn? Oh, my spectacular feisty creature?"

Laughter filled the room once more, light and easy. For a brief moment, they were just sisters again, getting ready for bed and braiding their hair and tormenting each other until no longer could they keep their eyes open.

Gia was admittedly delighted at seeing the unshakable sister squirm under the teasing, but her laughter abruptly died. A chill crawled up her spine, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. 

Without so much as a word, she crossed the room in a few quick strides and flung the door open.

There was no danger, but there without their door in the hallway stood Edric, Daeron, and Jon, each as surprised to see Gia in the now-open doorway as the last.

Gia quickly crossed her arms over herself as if to shield her nightclothes from their gaze, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

"What the devil are you doing at our chamber door?" Blodwyn's voice was sharp, exasperated. The men, thoroughly shamefaced, kept their eyes downcast, avoiding the sisters' glares as though they were naughty children caught in the act of...what, exactly?

Had they been eavesdropping?

Gia's eyes widened.

Oh, gods. Had they been eavesdropping!?

Edric cleared his throat, but his voice came out as a strangled croak. Gia couldn't bring herself to look at him. How much had they heard? The thought made her want to sink into the floor. She was utterly mortified.

"Apologies. We just came to say breakfast will be served at eight in the main hall...Uh..." Edric's words faltered.

Blodwyn's nostrils flared, her sharp gaze snapping away from Daeron, who was staring at her with an apologetic, sheepish expression. "And it takes the three of you to deliver this message?" she asked, her tone dripping with disbelief.

Daeron elbowed Edric while Jon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before offering a hasty bow. "Apologies, ladies. We shall leave you to rest," he offered, already turning to retreat.

Daeron followed suit, but Edric lingered a moment longer, same as his eyes lingered on Gia. Finally, she glanced up, acknowledging him, her face still aflame with embarrassment. He offered her a small smile, his own cheeks tinged with pink.

"Sorry, Gia, ladies. We didn't mean to intrude. Sleep well." His voice was soft, and with one last lingering look, he followed the other riders into the moonlight-blue darkness of the hallway.

And a moment later, like a dam breaking, the sisters collapsed onto their bed with their hands clapped over their mouths as stifled laughter overtook them again.

Roslin

There was nothing. 

Roslin stood alone in a world that stretched and stretched with unending blackness. There was no light, yet she could see herself; there was no ground, yet she stood. There was only deep, deep black. 

"Hello?" she called into the nothingness—into the void. 

No answer. 

There was no one to answer. Around and around she spun, trying to orient herself, trying to find something, anything.

"Hello?" she tried again anyway. She peered into the darkness as if that, somehow, might help, and was not surprised when it didn't. 

"Phos," she said, holding out her hand and watching as it flared with magelight. It illuminated nothing. The world around her was just...absolute black. 

Roslin let out a shaky breath and stood in one spot nervously fidgeting with her hands. Nothing as far as she could see. Somewhere far away, she heard the drip, drip of water, and if she listened closely—so closely—she could almost hear the gentle rise and fall of water lapping against some unseen shore. 

She turned around to look for the source of the sound.

And when she turned, she was no longer alone. 

A figure was now seated on a throne that seemed to rise out of nothingness. 

Roslin screamed and recoiled, staggering backward though it was still a fair distance from her. 

No reaction. 

"Hello?" 

No reaction.

Roslin felt a tug in her chest like she should be afraid, but she found herself wandering closer instead. She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the nothing beneath her feet.  Can I walk? she wondered, taking a tentative step. Can I reach him, or will I fall? If I fall, will I ever stop falling?  Each step she took caused a ripple, like water disturbed by the lightest touch, though the surface felt solid, real, as if she stood on glass with water beneath. It was as disorienting as the darkness.

Her eyes flicked back to the figure on the throne. He hadn't moved—not yet. 

His hands—bony and skeletal—rested on the arms of the throne. A jagged crown as monstrous as it was hellish of twisted metal, sharp with thorns and cold black iron, sat atop his head. He wore a mask of ebon bone that might have obscured a face if he had one at all. No eyes, no mouth—just a hollow, terrifying reminder of something long dead yet not gone...if he had ever been living at all. 

Roslin had the sick, sinking feeling that she was looking at something not of the Realm of man. 

It felt like standing with Death. 

Leaving her light behind, she circled around him, around the throne, her heartbeat loud and dizzying in her ears. At last her slow circle brought her back to the front of the throne, where she came to a stop in front of him, her fingers hovering inches from the mask. Was it the mask or the crown she wanted? She hadn't even known she wanted it until she was reaching. 

Roslin noticed, then, that her hand was not shaking; that she was not afraid. She was but a breath away from taking the mask for herself. 

Then, without warning, the figure lurched to life. His head lifted, the black hollows where his eyes should have been meeting hers. "Take it," said a voice from everywhere and nowhere. "Take what is yours, Roslin Adair. Take what is yours."

Gia

When the night had been burned away by the sun, the same older woman came to fetch them. Just as before she brought them clean dresses, though the morning's dresses were far more practical than the extravagant ones they'd been provided to wear to dinner.

The sisters settled into their seats of black polished wood and red velvet in the dining hall. The table before them had been set with silvered platters of berries, citrus fruits, pastries, and cups of blood-red jam. Again they were served with more food than they might have seen in a week.

Is this to be routine in Darkhaven? wondered Gia.Outfits brought to them by command, wealth in great excess, and more food than any dining party of less than fifty could possibly require? 

It wasn't long before the riders joined them, filing into the room amidst the tail end of what sounded like a disagreement. Their conversation fell silent the moment they noticed the sisters already seated.

"Oh look, it's our favourite stalkers," Blodwyn said in that finely-edged voice of hers.

The men exchanged pained expressions, and Daeron rubbed his hand across his mouth, casting a pointed glare at Edric as though it was his fault they'd ended up at the sisters' door.

Jon forced an almost apologetic smile, nodding to each of the sisters in turn, though his gaze lingered on Roslin, who was absently fidgeting with her hair. "Good morrow, ladies. I trust you slept well?"

Gia had to stifle a laugh at the memory of her exaggerated impression of him. Her eyes drifted to Edric, who now sat next to Jon, offering her a small smile that sent a familiar flutter through her stomach. She frowned, quickly shifting her focus to her fingernails. Had they heard everything the sisters had said last night? 

That simply wouldn't do.

When the butler—who the sisters gathered was the head butler based on his recurring appearance—entered the room and saw the motley crew gathered at the table, he arched a bushy brow. "Ladies," he said with a bow of his head. Then, turning to the men, "Commanders."

Blodwyn's head snapped up with blatant interest. "Commanders?" Her eyes moved from the butler to the riders, from the riders to the butler.

"Are you not acquainted then, my Lady?" the butler asked dryly.

"Not as well as we'd have thought," she answered, looking back at the men. "Commanders?"

Edric nodded. "Commanders indeed."

Beside him, Daeron was turning a fork in his hands, disinterested. "Why else would the Lords have tasked us with findin' you?"

"I thought you were just some guys that work here," she admitted.

"Some guys," mused Edric. "Kind of. This is Jon Wren, Commander of the Rangers," started Edric. He motioned to Jon, who offered a polite nod. "And over here we have Commander Daeron Dusk, Commander of Arms." When Edric motioned to Daeron, he again just shrugged.

"And this," said Edric, clapping his hand to his own chest, "is Edric Maven, Survey Commander."

Gia cocked her head and asked with genuine interest, "Survey Commander? I've never heard of such a title before."

"I'm the eyes and ears of the kingdom." Edric's eyes sparkled when he said it.

Daeron scoffed. "Your men are the eyes and ears of the kingdom. I don't think you're even the eyes and ears of the stables."

Gia didn't have long to dwell on the thought before the doors opened once more and in swept Aleksander, his charming, fanged smile on full display. Novak and Lucien followed behind him.

"Ladies, thank you for joining us so early for breakfast," Lucien began as he took his seat at one end of the table with an unnecessarily theatric flourish of his green-and-gold cloak. "I know you must have wanted more time to rest, but we have some pressing meetings that simply cannot wait." His eyes moved over all the sisters in turn; it reminded Gia of the way a snake sizes up its prey before deciding which one to swallow. "Were your quarters comfortable? I trust you slept well?"

"We did, thank you. Our quarters were so lovely, we haven't slept that well in weeks," said Gia. She wouldn't show fear, true, but there was that age-old saying of flies and honey and vinegar. "What meetings do you have to attend to?"

"Admirable attempt. I couldn't possibly tell you that, dear Gia, but I assure you, the outcome could be incredibly fruitful to our cause."

Beside Gia, Blodwyn narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Gia could feel her own heart rate rising, too.

Aleksander broke the tension when next he spoke. "I do hate to be that person, but have you ladies discussed whether or not you're in agreement with our proposal? The sooner we start training, the better for everyone."

How Gia hated the way Aleksander's voice made the magic within her hum and her whole body burn! But it did, and there was no denying it—at least, not to herself. She felt heat rise to her cheeks when she saw how he smiled as if he could see right through her.

Novak cleared his throat and ran a hand through that golden hair. "Really, Aleksander...They can have more time if they wish. They've only just arrived. We've yet to see their skills applied, so we are in no position to be rushing them—"

But Roslin's calm voice cut through his gentle protest. "My sisters and I have agreed that we would like to help."

Silence followed.

"When would the training start? And what would it entail?" Roslin's words were steady, but Gia could see the subtle tremor in her body. Roslin hated confrontation, she hated leading, she hated big decisions and hated big changes more still.

She could lead when needed, though, and someone had to take the Lords head-on.

It, for the moment, certainly was not Gia, who struggled to articulate a single coherent thought when Aleksander's eyes were on her. 

This time, it was the Lords who exchanged glances. Aleksander was visibly pleased. "Very good," he praised, "glad that took minimal deliberation."

A silence followed again. It seemed to Gia that the Lords had been expecting more of a fight, or maybe more reluctance. Gia cleared her throat, then asked, "So...what comes next?"

Aleksander grinned. "Oh, eager, aren't you? That's good, I can work with that. Unfortunately, nothing comes next. Not yet."

"What do you mean? You can't just keep us here." In chimed Blodwyn with the defensive sharpness so characteristic in her voice.

"We're not just keeping you here," he told her. "What comes next is that you rest. All three of you are worse for the wear. Your magic was nearly depleted, and some of you–," he eyed Blodwyn, "-have sustained injuries that even your magic takes a few days to heal in its entirety."

Blodwyn just looked away.

He was right, Gia knew. The cut one of the First Evil lackeys had given Blodwyn had been deep. Any deeper and she would have had to stop mid-battle to heal it...something she absolutely could not have afforded in the moment. She still winced when she sat or bent at the side.

The three of them had done more major healing in the past few weeks than they'd done in all their lives combined.

Roslin fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "What do you ask of us in the meantime?" There was a price on everything, no doubt, including their time.

"Whatever you please," said Novak, regarding her from his side of the table. "So long as you don't leave the grounds unattended, you can do whatever you please. We'd prefer you don't leave the grounds at all, truth be told, but that's probably asking too much."

Blodwyn sneered. "So we're prisoners."

"Did I not just say you could leave?"

"Not unattended we can't. We–"

Roslin placed her hand over her sister's and Blodwyn stilled. "We stayed here to train," Roslin said, "so when can we begin?"

Lucien leaned back in his chair. "I believe you also stayed for our protection, too. We can't very well protect you if you're off galavanting, can we?"

Gia glanced at Edric, considering. "You found us last time we were 'galavanting.'"

"That was luck," countered Lucien. "Had it not been timed properly, had our Commanders waited a minute more, we would have found your pretty little corpses. Or not. It is like that no one would have ever found you, nor anything that even remotely resembled what you once were."

Gia recoiled. Before Blodwyn could answer in her sister's defence, Novak answered Roslin's previous question civilly. "Soon," he told them. "You'll need a few days to recover, and then you can begin. The castle is well warded and charmed, you'll be safe here."

Gia's heart fluttered when a catlike smile graced Aleksander's lips, directed at her. "Yes, you'll be quite safe here from the First Evil and its underlings and things that go bump in the night."

Edric leaned the slightest bit closer to Gia. "And things that bite you on the backside," he taunted so quietly that only she could hear. Her eyes went wide, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at him. 

Or Aleksander. 

Everything was hot: her face, her skin, her hands. She could feel Edric smiling, though, with those brown eyes she'd quickly grown so fond of.

Roslin noticed the sudden expression and raised an eyebrow. All Gia could do was stare across the table in mild horror.

Beside her, the Survey Commander stifled a laugh.

Gia cleared her throat and, looking down at her plate, asked, "Can we still use our magic in the meantime?" It had, of course, not gone unnoticed by the sisters that there was plenty of greenery and garden space within Darkhaven's grounds. When coupled with the ancient magic so intensely present in the castle itself, it was the perfect place for practising and getting back in touch with the Realm's natural magic.

Lucien smiled. "We'd be fools to think we could stop the three of you from doing what you do best. Most of all this one." He nodded at Blodwyn. 

"You should see what I do best," Blodwyn japed. When Lucien's face split into a wickedly pleased grin, she realised, to her horror, what she had just implied. "I–That's not–"

"Perhaps one day, but not at breakfast."

"Not at breakfast, my Lord," she agreed, simultaneously saccharine sweet and through gritted teeth.

"You'll find there's plenty to do," Aleksander interrupted them. "Roam the grounds, practise your magic, read in the library...What's ours is yours for the time being."

Aleksander's eyes met Gia's. And you're mine.

His voice was so clear and so sudden in her head that she doubted it was her imagination at all. Gia flinched back in her seat, dropping her fork, and looked at him. He smiled knowingly. Her mortified mind could not compel her body to smile back.

It was your imagination, she told herself, it was your imagination, it was your imagination, it was...

But it wasn't her imagination. It was him, it was Aleksander. 

[bellmare-rose]

「𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍」

CHAPTER THREE

• • • • • • •

Gia

"We do apologise for keeping you ladies waiting," said a voice lilted with an accent Gia wasn't able to place. There in the doorway stood a man she could only assume was one of the Lords they were to meet. "We had a few things to do and heard you needed to rest....Oh my." The man who had been talking faltered as his eyes danced around the table. "Well...Don't you all polish up well?"

The black-haired man looked at each of the sisters in turn as if he expected a response. He wore a surcoat of green and black and though his smile was catlike, the rest of him was snakelike in nature.

Blodwyn lifted her chin defiantly, never one to stomach flattery, and scowled. "Forget about how we clean up. Why are we here? Who are you? How did you find us? What do you want with us? Start answering."

The man with threw his head back and laughed. "Your reputation precedes you, Miss Terran. You are a feisty one." He walked over to where she sat, reached for her hand, and planted a gentlemanly kiss on it. "I'm Lord Lucien, but simply Lucien will do." His voice was thick with charm, confidence, and a smug sort of mirth.

Roslin and Gia watched Blodwyn's face turn a shade of crimson as she yanked her hand away in disgust. 

This, of course, only caused the Lord to laugh again.

Lucien moved and sat at the head of the table, gesturing to a butler who had entered the room behind them unannounced. The butler dipped his head curtly before disappearing through a concealed door to the left.

Blodwyn made a show of wiping her hand on the skirt of her dress, that look of disgust still well-plastered on her face.

Gia was eyeing Lucien with what she felt was a justified amount of suspicion when a second man sauntered in—though much debate could be had over whether this man was sauntering or swaggering.

The argument could also be made that this man was much too lordly for swaggering.

Sauntering it was, then.

"Apologies for my friend here. Seems he has left his good sense and manners at the door." The second man brushed his hand through his hair. "I'm Lord Novak of House Heartwood, and I speak for all of us when I say we're so very glad to see you all here in one piece."

This man—this Lord—looked not unlike a classic Prince Charming pulled from the fairytales of the sisters' youth. His armour was a golden as his hair, and his eyes were as green as that hair was gold, too.

Gia knew exactly what to expect when she turned and looked at Roslin.

Roslin was smiling and nodding politely, but there was a sort of almost-panic in her eyes as she nodded along. Surely she was wondering if everyone who lived in Darkhaven was so handsome.

Then, at once, the air itself shifted and time seemed to slow. The candles flickered, guttered, and relit themselves. Gia's pulse quickened inexplicably, beating rabbit-hearted as if to escape the confines of her ribcage. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh.

"Hello, darlings."

The silhouette of the third and final Lord of the castle appeared in the doorway.

"Hope you weren't waiting too long, and if you were, that the company at least wasn't too terrible of a bore." He stepped into the dim light of the dining hall. "We had some...business...to attend to. No doubt my fellow Lords have filled you in." He was making a point of wiping the blood from a dagger as he stalked around the table.

When he looked up at last, his face illuminated by the light, Gia felt her heart stop. It's him, she realised, he was what was calling me from within the castle. Her heart was in her throat, then, as she studied the Lord, silver-haired and red-eyed. When he smiled, the smile was wickedly fanged.

"I am Aleksander, High Lord of the castle as you've no doubt surmised," he said. The accent to his voice was almost melodic, music to Gia's ears. She looked to each of her sisters, wondering if they were feeling the same otherworldly pull to him that she was, but they made no indication of such a thing.

Aleksander stood behind his chair at the head of the table opposite Lucien's, fully taking in each of the sisters with those red eyes. "Aren't you pretty things?" he mused. "It's a wonder you're renowned for your magic and not your striking looks. I can only assume your powers are as legendary as we've heard it told, then."

Gia shrank back in her seat. Her skin was on fire beneath his gaze, and Edric at her side did little to make the situation any easier. Sweat threatened to bead on her forehead. 

Her sisters, at least, looked as frantic as she did. Even Blodwyn, the self-proclaimed master of looking disinterested, was flustered.

What have we walked into? Gia wondered.

The butler Lucien had dismissed reappeared with a second butler and the pair started pouring wine into the silver goblets that stood by the empty dinner plates in front of them.

"A toast, a drink, and then I promise we will answer all your questions." Lucien's eyes found Blodwyn's again and she closed her mouth that had opened only half a moment before, no doubt to ask again for answers.

No sooner had one of the butlers filled the goblet at Gia's place setting and moved away to fill Edric's had Gia reached for it. Momentarily excusing herself of any social graces she may have retained after weeks on the road, she threw the contents back in one long gulp, hopeful it would calm her nerves. A trickle of wine ran down her chin, which she pawed away with the back of her hand.

Her face was on fire, all of her was on fire. Oh, gods, spirits, help me.

Roslin

Roslin watched, horrorstruck, as Gia downed the wine in a single swig. 

The whole mythical world knew never to drink faerie wine, and who knows what they'd just been handed? What even were these Lords? Not human, that was for certain. She looked sidelong at Blodwyn, who was also not drinking her wine and gaping openly at Gia.

She realised then that her goblet was still half-raised in a toast that had not yet been made and lowered it again somewhat awkwardly.

Gia seemed fine so far, at least. Edric cleared his throat, then he, Daeron, and Jon had also drank theirs. Everyone but Roslin and Blodwyn followed. 

Roslin looked down into her cup and her own reflection stared back at her. Spirits give me strength, she prayed silently, and lifted her own goblet. She, unlike Gia, took a single, cautious sip.

"Fuck it," Blodwyn said aloud, then tipped her head back, upended her goblet, and drank.

Lucien grinned a cheshire grin. "That's what I like to see."

Blodwyn paid him no mind. "Answers," she said when her wine had been drank, "someone give us answers now."

"Oh, witches," mused Aleksander. "So endearingly impatient. Oft impetuous, too." He looked slowly from each of the sisters. He was truly lordly, regal to his very core. He was born to sit there at the head of the table, made to be king. "Very well. Answers you shall have. But first," he clapped his hands together, "dinner."

Butlers in their black finery appeared from the room's hidden doors. They carried tray after tray of the most brilliant array of foods: stuffed capons, roasted pheasant, spreads of cheese and crackers, vegetables of every sort, fruit fresh from the vine, cakes with sugared glazes.

At the opposite end of the table, Novak smiled when Roslin's eyes met his own. Roslin had never seen anything like him in all her life; his beauty teetered on godlike, inhuman. He was the epitome of "resplendent." He was the antithesis of Jon, she realised, the sun and the moon.

Laid out before them was a feast unlike anything the sisters had ever witnessed, and it was brought with little fanfare, too, as if this was an everyday occurrence for the lords.

"This is a far cry from potatoes and rabbit stew," Blodwyn admitted. 

Roslin smiled, but there was a sudden pang of sadness at the warm memory of rabbit stew and roasted potatoes and carrots cooked at their little cottage's hearth.

In her heart, the forest was still green and their gardens still grew rich and full, and their little cottage waited sleepily for them in their quiet valley.

Dinner, she reminded herself. Here and now. We can never go back.

She didn't want to think of the blackened pile of rubble and the cursed, hellfire-scorched plot of earth they'd left behind. They'd been on a mission, and now they were in some Lord's castle, drinking wine and wearing dresses and jewels. They'd nearly been murdered earlier.

The momentary merriment was cut short by Gia slamming a palm down on the table. "Why are we here?" Her chest was heaving, Roslin saw, and the look in her eyes was one of an animal ensnared in a trap. The sudden shift in demeanour was uncharacteristic of Gia. Her words were ice. She turned and looked the white haired lord in the face, the pseudo-courage of the wine evident already. "Tell us."

"You," Aleksander said with a smile. "I like you. We're going to have quite a lot of fun, I think."

Gia seemed to remember who she was and where she was and who she was talking to. All she did was hang her head.

When she didn't reply, he continued. "Very well," he sighed, then turned to Novak. "Should you tell them, or should I?"

Novak leaned forward. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, taking a pull of wine before moving his eyes over the three sisters.

"Simply put, you're here so we can offer you two things you are in great and absolute need of: training and protection."

Blodwyn spat out a bitter laugh. "And yet the trail of bodies we've left in our wake tell me different. We have neither want nor need of your protection. We may sit at your high table, my Lord, but we need not suffer your insults."

Roslin regarded her sister for a moment before her eyes wandered back to Novak. 

Lucien swirled the wine around in his goblet, his eyebrow raised as he looked at Blodwyn. "And yet our men tell me how you were surrounded in the forest and close to being depleted of your magic." Once again she opened her mouth to respond, to argue back, but he held his hand up, his face taking on a sincerity that they didn't know he was capable of.

"What do you know of the First Evil? Anyone?" His question was simple enough, yes, but it hung heavy in the air, the memory of their narrow escape from their home still raw.

Roslin shifted in her chair, unease prickling her skin and causing her face to flush. "It's ancient...Some say older than man itself," she began, her voice low and edged with dread. "When it took on a corporeal form, it walked the Realm and lured humanity into its ranks with promises of power and riches. It formed armies that scorched the land, leaving death and destruction in their wake. It didn't discriminate—entire bloodlines were ended."

Novak asked, "And do you know anything of how it was defeated?"

"We have searched and plan to exhaust every resource, but thus far we've found nothing specific—only that a powerful magic was involved. We've seen no mention of how it was banished who did the banishing. The books neglect to include that."

"Yes," confirmed Aleksander, "and it's like that they never will." 

Novak trained his gaze on Roslin for a moment longer before he spoke. "The First Evil became blinded by its own power, as many do. Consumed by greed and the unquenchable thirst for control, it manipulated and twisted nearly anything—or anyone—to its will. But there was a faction of those, magical and non-magical alike, who saw through its lies, who banded together in secret. Among them was a warlock...A very powerful one, trained by one of history's most renowned mages."

And where might we find one of those? Roslin's eyes darted involuntarily between the three Lords. Around each hung an aura of the most ancient and coveted sort of magic unlike anything Roslin had ever felt before, but each was as different as the last. 

No others spoke as Novak took a pull of his wine before continuing. "The faction pulled together the most powerful beings they could: human warriors, Elves, vampires, it mattered little." His lips curled slightly into a curt smile. "By all accounts, it was an epic battle, but the warlock was able to defeat it and banish it to some dark recess. It cost him his life."

Blodwyn leaned forward, her hand pressing into the table, her brow furrowed as much in confusion as it was in distaste. "I'm sorry... but I still don't understand why we need to be here. Why we need your protection. My sisters and I—"

"—are extremely capable and extremely powerful," Lucien interrupted, leaning in, his elbows resting on the table. The teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something far more serious. "And that's exactly why it's better to keep you safe. Your powers are known far and wide. You've seen the portents. The First Evil will want to destroy you three, lest he fall foul to the same magic that defeated him the first time. That's why he's relentless in his quest to kill you."

"And who, exactly," started Blodwyn, "is he?"

The three Lords glanced amongst themselves, plainly trying to determine who could best answer Blodwyn's question.

It was Aleksander who answered. "He's had as many names as he has had faces. We know not what name he refers to himself by in this iteration."

The ambush on their home in the night, the tip from White River urging them through the forest—how close they'd come to dying. It had all been played by a nameless hand.

Gia brushed her hair from her face. "Why us? My sisters and I...we've tried to banish him, to bind the evil, but we've failed. We're no real threat. We kill ten of his followers, and ten more take their place."

Aleksander's laugh bordered on taunting. "Oh, darling, you're being modest. The power that exudes from you is..." His voice trailed off as if he thought better about what exactly he was about to say. "It's true that individually, you are powerful, but together, the three of you are nothing short of formidable. It took a single powerful warlock to stop the First Evil before...But with the three of you...you could ensure it never returns, never again becomes a scourge to mankind. You could truly destroy it."

Across the table from Roslin, Gia reached for her wine as if to end the interaction, but Aleksander's eyes never left her. His lips curled into a smile, revealing a glimpse of sharp, white fangs. 

"Apologies, my Lord, but as I said, my sisters and I have tried to bind him, to banish his evil, and it's only ever brought us closer to death...Our home, the place we thought safe, destroyed. Everything we built together, gone. We couldn't stop it. We've had no formal training with our abilities; only what we've learned ourselves. We could train for the rest of our lives and not be able to face the First Evil."

They had sensed the evil, seen the signs, and fought against it for months, but this battle felt insurmountable.

Evil was everywhere, and there was never going to be anything that could stop it. Not by Roslin, nor by her sisters.We can never go back, the sisters knew. Not to their cottage, not to the life they knew before the First Evil.

"Being modest," snorted Blodwyn. "We're not being modest, we're being honest. Don't you think we've already tried everything we know?"

Lucien leaned in, the catlike smile returning to snakelike features. "Yes," he said, "but what about the things you don't know? That, my lovely, headstrong Blodwyn, is where we come in. Have you taken your time to consider that, or have you spent all of your time thinking up those witty comebacks of yours? "

"We don't need protecting," she said. A lie. "We need to know how to banish it."

Novak turned his glass of wine in his hands. "Can two things not be true?"

Lucien looked exasperated. "What exactly do you think training entails?" 

The sisters considered this. Roslin's eyes met Gia's, and they subtly exchanged cautious nods. "Alright," said Roslin, choosing her words slowly and deliberately, "then what's the plan?" If a temporary alliance was the price to pay, then pay it they must.

Leaning back in his chair again, Novak told them, "Each of you three possess strengths that must be refined and weaknesses that must be ameliorated."

Fury flashed on Blodwyn's face. "Weaknesses? You invite us here and call us weak? Tell me, my Lord, what have you done to banish the first?" Her words dripped with proverbial venom.

"Everyone has their weakness," said Novak cooly. "You, for instance, rely heavily on shadow magic. Too heavily. It's both your greatest strength and your worst folly. And your sister," his eyes darted to Roslin, "lets her emotions get the best of her; she's controlled by them. But she's world-class at using magic creatively as a...means to an end."

Roslin looked away. She thought of the way the one man's bones had crunched, sickeningly, as the roots dragged him beneath the earth and swallowed him whole. 

Willing trees to snatch assailants by their limbs and tear the men to shreds. Vines that coiled and choked, magic that could turn a man's insides to ice and shatter them.

When had she become this, she wondered? When had any of them become this? She remembered Gia lighting a fire at the hearth with a snap of her fingers for the night's soup kettle. She remembered Blodwyn in the garden with her prized cabbage twice the size of a man. And she remembered waving her own hands over the clover in the meadow and watching the white blossoms grow and bloom again and again, weaving the white flowers into Gia's hair.

Gia's voice pulled Roslin from her despair. "And me?" she asked, somewhat hotly. "What's my strength, my weakness?" She was pointedly not looking at Aleksander.

He was the one who answered. "You're a force to be reckoned with, aren't you? Your magic is unmatched. But you'll burn yourself out just to protect the ones you love, and so you focus too narrowly on what you already know." When Gia averted her gaze further, looking at anything else–her wine, the chandelier, her sisters, even stealing a glance at Edric–Aleksander just laughed that soft laugh of his. "And then what becomes of you?"

Gia swallowed. "So what do you propose?"

"We propose you let us train you."

Blodwyn opened her mouth to protest, but Novak raised a hand and stopped her. "We have the tomes here you'll need to study. Runes, incantations, rites. It's no small feat, admittedly, but you won't be able to banish the First without them. In between studying, we can train you in areas that need..." He chose the next word carefully, settling on, "Honing."

"Honing," Blodwyn bit back. "You speak of us as if we're a weapon."

Lucien smiled. "Are you not?" When Blodwyn faltered, he added, "Pretty weapons, yes, but weapons all the same. Stop making that face. It's a compliment."

Again, Gia and Roslin exchanged glances. "Might we have the night to discuss it?" Roslin asked, not sure which Lord to direct her question to. "We cannot be expected to rashly decide on something of such importance."

She knew there was no declining the call, not really, not now.

But still. They would absolutely not give in to these strangers so easily.

No matter how handsome the strangers were.

Aleksander smiled. "Of course," he said, "take all the time you need. Not as if our very world is being torn apart." 

[bellmare-rose]

revising your writing is just like "is this weird. is this a weird sentence. is this the weirdest most poorly-worded sentence ever written by anyone" and the sentence in question is "he walked across the room"

[bellmare-rose]

「𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍」

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

• • • • • • •

Gia

The world was different beyond the gates of the castle. The air itself was heavier, the night strangely still. There were signs of no other people, not even in the gate towers. The only sound was that of the horses' hooves on the cobbled pathway. Lanterns lit their way through the unnaturally dark, misty morning, and an unseasonably cold breeze carried with it the scent of deep, wet earth and roses from nearby gardens. It was a wonderland, a fairytale, a dream...

A mirage, hauntingly beautiful. 

Blodwyn was eyeing the grounds with much suspicion. It was plain by the look on her face that she suspected it was too beautiful, too perfect. Her mind was working to determine if it was another trap, and if so...why? She relinquished her hold on Daeron's cloak, as if not realising until that moment she'd been holding herself so closely to him. She sneered at her own actions and wiped her hands on her thighs.

Gia, riding in the middle of the group, exchanged glances between Blodwyn and Roslin. The expression worn by each woman was different: Roslin watched in silent fascination, Blodwyn glanced around with unease, and Gia's gaze was cautiously impressed.

"Impressive castle," said Blodwyn casually. "Who did you say the Lord is again?"

"We didn't." Daeron didn't take the bait.

Gia looked up as they passed beneath twisted, overarching tree limbs as old as the castle itself. "This place is ancient," she observed aloud. "And bleeds ancient magic." Her body was electric and alive, her blood lightning in her skin as her magic rekindled in response. Something in that castle, something intensely powerful and magical, called to her, beckoning.

Edric shifted in the saddle. "You could say that," he agreed.

Her hair stood on end at the feeling of whatever lay in wait within the walls of Darkhaven Castle calling to her. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on Edric. He was little more than a stranger, true, but he felt innately safe to her, familiar. He glanced over his shoulder at her and afforded her a smile.

The horses slowed to a stop at the foot of the castle stairs. The castle, with its many towers and spires, reached up, up, and up into the grey-black of the early morning sky. Ivy grew thick along its walls, and much of the lower levels were shrouded in trees and greenery. No banners flew, no sigils, no coats-of-arms. No indication of who or what waited within.

Not that I'd be able to name them anyway, she reminded herself. Her rearing on the non-magical island-continent of Brisham had stunted her knowledge of the Northern reaches of the Great Realm. Her knowledge of the land had been limited to the few places she'd called home since her arrival on the mainland.

Gia craned her head back and took in the castle, wide-eyed. For the briefest of moments, she thought she saw someone—a dark silhouette—watching from a window high above. She blinked, and it was gone.

Had she dreamt of this place before...?

No, surely she had not.

Only a fool would think such a thing.

Still, her heart beat in her chest relentlessly as thought it meant to convince her otherwise.

Edric relinquished his hold on the reins, swung one leg over the saddle, and dropped to the ground. He said nothing, but smiled up at Gia as he offered her one gloved hand. She glanced at Roslin, then Blodwyn, who both watched intently. Gia took it and permitted Edric to ease her down off the horse, one hand on hers, the other on her hip. She allowed herself to rest her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down.

"There we go," he crooned when she was steady. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" His hand lingered on her waist longer than was necessary before his fingers trailed away almost reluctantly.

She pursed her lips and looked away from him lest he see the flash in her eyes. "I suppose not. Thank you for letting me ride with you."

"The pleasure is mine." He winked at her and she immediately looked away again, if not just to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

Jon and Daeron had dismounted by then, too. "Careful, Miss Adair," Jon said as he offered Roslin a hand.

"I'm okay; I'm no stranger to dismounting," Roslin assured him. She put up little fight as he took her by her sides and lifted her down with ease, though. After sitting ahorse for so long, her knees buckled.

"Easy," he said, steadying her by the shoulders. "I've got you."

Roslin smoothed her skirts. No doubt her thighs ached just as Gia's did. "Thank you." She, like Gia, dare not meet the handsome rider's gaze.

Blodwyn, however, was having none of it.

Daeron grunted. "You're not going to let me help you, are you?" It was less of a question and more of a statement made to the witch perched atop his horse. He offered his hand knowing good and well she'd swat it away, and she did.

"Do I look like I need help?" she asked. Daeron seemed to bite back a response as the copper-haired witch lithely swung one leg over the horse and turned backward as she dismounted. "I'm perfectly capable." 

Her foot caught in the stirrup as she dismounted, though, earning a kick and a curse.

"I got ya," he said, reaching for her boot.

"I've got myself, thank you," replied Blodwyn curtly. She brushed off her skirts and shrugged away from him. Glancing over her shoulder before joining her sisters, she told him, "You could use a better saddle."

Gia took Blodwyn by the arm as the three sisters gathered together at the foot of the castle steps. Uncertainty hung in the silence of the night around them.

"What are we getting ourselves into?" Gia whispered.

Roslin pressed her shoulder to Gia's. "Nothing we can't get ourselves out of."

Blodywn nodded in agreement, eyes still scanning the castle. Her fingers twitched over her tunic where a shadowblade was stashed. "Right."

Edric splayed open one hand, indicating the staircase. "Shall we?"

Gia swallowed hard before telling him, "I suppose we shall." She took Roslin by the arm. "Stay close together," she told her sisters.

Blodwyn nodded. "There's no other way," she agreed. "They'd have to drag me from the two of you kicking and screaming."

Edric led the way, boots clicking on the stairs green with moss and white with lichen. Jon and Daeron followed behind the sisters.

They were together, and that's what mattered. And it was together, arm in arm, that the sisters ascended to the castle that loomed above them, casting its great black shadow over them.

Nothing we can't get ourselves out of, Gia reminded herself. Nothing we can't get ourselves out of.

Roslin 

Edric pushed open the heavy castle doors, their groan echoing through the Great Hall as if the doors themselves had long since grown weary of welcoming visitors. Three riders and three sisters stepped inside, footsteps resounding emptily in the vastness of the hall.

"Gods—" Roslin's voice faltered, catching in her throat as she took in the haunted grandeur around her. Her hand found Blodwyn's instinctively. Golden sconces and gold-edged mirrors lined the walls, and carpets of rich red spanned the length of the black marble floor beneath their feet. Tapestries of black, red, and spun cloth-of-gold hung from the walls where the sconces and mirrors did not, bearing shields of houses the sisters would never be able to name. Not a one of the house crests was familiar to Roslin; then, nothing of this place was familiar to her. 

Roslin, well-entranced by the sight before her, murmured, "So this is Darkhaven."

"This still doesn't seem right." Blodwyn kept her voice low.

Roslin and Gia both nodded their heads discretely as if to say, 'Be careful, stay alert.'

Edric gestured to an ornate door at the far end of the hallway. "We can summon the Lords of Darkhaven straightaway, but if you'd rather rest first..." His voice trailed off, his eyes lingering on Gia, who had, seemingly, stopped paying attention and was instead listening for some distant thing none of the others could perceive. 

Roslin put her hand on her sister's elbow. "Gia? Everything alright?" 

Gia blinked slowly, nodding and only halfway paying attention. "There's great power here, but it's..." She swayed slightly before deciding, "I don't know. I've never felt such a thing."

For Gia's response to be so drastic... 

There was magic here, and Roslin could feel it. No doubt Blodwyn could, too. But whatever they were feeling seemed not to be the same as whatever Gia was feeling. 

Roslin blinked as she looked around, taking in the castle. And there was so much to take in. The Great Hall in which they stood was a sprawling expanse clearly made for feats, balls, that manner of activities. But unmoving eyes watched from all around: tapestries, empty suits of armour, and chandeliers that glittered and sparkled like blinking, shining eyes. 

And shadows everywhere, every corner dark. 

Blodwyn's gaze shifted to Edric and the other men, who had moved to the side, watching with as much concern as they could muster for these three strange women. "As much as we'd like answers and to meet our...captors...we will rest first should we be offered chambers. We've been travelling on foot for days, and we're exhausted." Then, in a quiet mutter with her face turned back toward Roslin, "And we need to regroup and reevaluate." When Blodwyn looked to Roslin for validation, or perhaps reassurance, Roslin nodded. 

Blodwyn had the right of it: they were tired, depleted, and very thoroughly in over their heads. Gold for inns had been exhausted nearly a fortnight ago. Eager though they may be to meet their 'hosts' (which felt more diplomatic to Roslin than 'captors'), rest would do them well. 

Jon inclined his head in agreement. "Of course. We'll show you to your chambers."

x

The guest chambers were two floors up on a hallway overlooking the castle's gardens, if Edric was to be believed, as the alleged gardens were presently obscured by early-morning mist. The floors above were every bit as grandiose as the floors below: golden candelabras, marble floors and thick carpets, paintings so exquisite they seemed almost alive. Roslin drank it in as they passed. 

At last, Edric stopped mid-stride and motioned down a hallway. "Three rooms for three witches," he offered, indicating the doors flanking the right side of the hall. "The Lords have been expecting you, so—" 

"One room," said Blodwyn.

Edric cocked a brow. "That hardly seems–"

Blodwyn was already opening the door to the nearest room. "One room. We stay together." 

The three men exchanged glances. "I don't see why not," Daeron shrugged.

Edric cleared his throat and allowed, "Very well, then. One room. I'll not have my hands slapped with a ruler for disgruntling Lady Terran."

"Thank you for this," said Gia by way of parting, "and for getting us here safely, too."

That characteristic playful smile returned to Edric's lips. "Of course," he said, "it's my job." His eyes flickered up and down over Gia for a moment. "And even if it wasn't, I would have done it anyway."

To prevent herself from saying something silly in response to such a kind gesture from a stranger, Gia said nothing at all. She instead just disappeared into the bedroom after Blodwyn.

Roslin hesitated in the doorway. "Thank you," she said simply to the riders.

Jon inclined his head. "Of course, Lady Adair." He almost smiled at the word lady, as if he was teasing her.

"You'll have some time to freshen up before the captors come calling," Edric told them.

Blodwyn shut the door in front of him. 

x

Sleep did not find the sisters, nor did it come remotely close. They, of course, could not allow themselves to sleep at such a dire hour in such an unfamiliar place. It was the rest that was as welcomed as it was much-needed: the quiet and the safety and the plush, dry, gloriously oversized bed. The three piled on top of said bed and whispered their wild speculations in a comfortable quiet. 

The years had made suspicious women of them—now moreso than ever. None could be trusted in recent times, it seemed. 

Yet...

Yet there was something quiet about this castle. It was cold, yes, and unfeeling; some might have described it as 'deeply haunted' or perhaps 'vampiric.' But there was an innate safety, too. It was a deeper sense that could be instilled only by the spirits who whispered that there was protection to be had within the confines of the castle. These Lords, though still unmet, would not harm them. 

Gia had said as much, which Blodwyn dismissed with the acknowledgment that the castle was heavily warded with protective spells even she couldn't identify. This, argued Blodwyn, would create a sense of safety for anyone. 

Still, the older sister had remained unconvinced, and Roslin laid between them in their tangle of limbs and hair, listening to their sisterly bickering and bantering. They'd stayed that way for hours, occasionally drifting in and out of near-sleep but never quite letting themselves fall fully. The quiet came and went, and occasionally Blodwyn would pace to the door, press her ear to it, shake her head, and then go to the window and look into the yard below, where she also proclaimed no indicators of other occupants. 

They did this for most of the day until the sun began to disappear beyond the castle's walls, beyond the trees, beyond the mountain, beyond where the sky met the Realm. 

Now, Roslin regarded herself in the antique mirror, turning slightly to the side to better assess her reflection. A kindly (if not a touch austere) older woman had stopped by and drawn a bath for the three sisters before bringing them new dresses to change into.

Yes, three dresses perfectly suited and tailored to each sister. 

There was much debate had about how this was possible, until at last they agreed they should hold off on the wild conspiracies until having met the...

Hosts, Gia called them.

Lords of Darkhaven, Roslin had said.

Captors, decided Blodwyn.

"This all seems a bit excessive. I was happy with my old dress," Roslin lied as she smoothed the skirts of the dress she'd been provided: velvets of black and thulian, floor length. 

Blodwyn spun a dagger in her hand, never one to be idle, and nodded her head. "I agree," she said through gritted teeth. "At least I can still stash my weapons in this mummer's robe." To punctuate her point, she patted the thigh where she'd hidden at least two of her beloved blades. She had the right of it: indeed, it would be difficult to conceal weapons, but not impossible—not with the right magic.

And though the youngest sister may deny it, or even truly dislike it, she did look resplendent in her given dress of black and green.

Gia came from behind the privacy partition fastening the ribbon that crisscrossed the corset of her dress. "Honestly, I just feel better that I no longer look like something that's been dragged backwards through a bog. And I'm sure they'll let us have our old dresses back."

"Good of our hosts to launder them," Roslin agreed. She smiled to see her sisters in such a state. The dress that had been pre-selected for Gia was a scarlet gown fitted with a corset that was overlaid with a fine, delicate black lace. True, it exposed quite a lot of her shoulders, neck, and bosom, but the skirt was at least long and full enough that she, too, had likely strapped a dagger to the sheath kept on her thigh. 

But still remained the mystery of how their wardrobes had been so perfectly, perfectly suited to them, and why, and, perhaps most important of all, who had chosen such vastly different dresses with each sister already in mind? 

Blodwyn opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a brief knock on the door interrupted her. The same older handmaid entered, a warm but cautious smile on her face. "If I may...Dinner is served in the dining hall. I'm to escort you."

Blodwyn nodded at the woman and then pulled her sisters close, lowering her voice. "Stay alert, and don't hesitate to throw a punch if the occasion calls for it."

x

Though the old woman was kindly, she was strangely cryptic, too. As they followed her down the stairs and through the dark halls, she spoke little and answered less. She brooked no hints no matter how subtly and unsubtly Blodwyn tried to press information about the Lords they were to meet. 

Eventually, she gave up.

At last, the old woman stopped them in front of a pair of filagreed black doors as ancient as they were heavy. "The Lords will be here shortly," she told them, "go on and take your seats."

No other instruction was given. She simply pushed the doors open and stepped aside, motioning for the sisters to enter.

The three women faltered. "Do you feel that?" Roslin asked, pressing herself close to Gia.

Blodwyn answered, "That's ancient magic." One of the schools of magic hard to master for casters who themselves were not of an ancient blood.

"And powerful," said Gia. "Perhaps it's what I was feeling before," she suggested, though her tone implied she didn't believe that, not really. 

They exchanged glances. They had no choice but to enter, they knew, and together, they stepped through the doorway.

The room within was nothing short of magnificent. High, arching windows flanked the far wall, and the only light came from candelabras and a splendid chandelier hung that above the dining table. It was prestigious to the point of pretentious, almost, but breathtaking all the same.

It should have been no surprise that the riders (or rangers as they'd corrected the sisters on the ride to the castle) would be joining them for dinner. The riders were, after all, the ones who found the sisters and safely retrieved them. They were mid-conversation, seated at the long, fine dining table and sharing wine when the women entered.

At the sight of the sisters, the men bolted to their feet so suddenly that Edric banged his knees against the table. "Well," he said, wide-eyed, "who would have guessed what was under all that dirt?" Gia lowered her eyes and hid her smile. Words seemed to fail her when Edric was about. "You certainly clean up nicely," he continued, stepping around the front of the table. "Looks to match your reputation, then."

"It's what we were provided," Blodwyn hissed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, protectively. 

Jon and Daeron, Roslin noticed, said nothing. They just eyed the sisters with those same guarded, smouldering gazes that Rolsin dared not meet.

"Come, sit," Edric invited, waving the women over when it was clear the conversation had stalled. "The Lords of the castle will be here soon enough."

Again, the women hesitated, unsure of where to sit or what to do. Blodwyn made for the seat at the head of the table, wing-backed and twice as ornate as the rest of the chairs, but Daeron stopped her short. "Reserved," he told her in that low drawl of his.

She huffed. "Of course it is." 

"Where can we sit?" Gia asked. There was an empty chair at Edric's side, she noticed, along with two beside Jon and one beside Daeron, plus the two heads of the table.

Jon cleared his throat. "Lady Adair," he started, "if I may?" He pulled out a chair and indicated for Roslin to join him.

Roslin, already feeling terribly out of her element in a gown and finery, looked wild-eyed at Gia for help. "I–"

Gia had no help to offer and just stared back with the same confused, surprised look.

"You may," Roslin said at last. She took her seat between Jon and the head of the table. Yet, so unaccustomed to the company of handsome men was Roslin that she hadn't a clue what to do next. She sat with her hands in her lap in silence, instead. 

"If we're partnering up again..." Edric's voice trailed off as he made pointed eye contact with Gia. He raised his eyebrows and extended a hand to her, which, after only a moment's hesitation, she took. He guided her to her chair and pulled it out for her. "Lucky me," he said to her.

"Lucky you," Gia agreed with a facade of confidence. It might have been convincing if her skin wasn't reddened beneath his gaze. The sight made Roslin press a hand to her mouth to stifle a smile. 

Blodwyn looked at Daeron and sighed, feigning annoyance. "If you must," she said.

"I mustn't," replied Daeron, "but I will." He looked anywhere but at Blodwyn as he pulled out the chair beside his own. She sat, indignant. 

Roslin was strangely relieved to see that Gia and Blodwyn appeared as uncomfortable as she felt. There was a tension in the air, an uncertainty that clung to them like a second skin. Her eyes moved to Jon at her side, whose head jerked away the moment their gazes met, his cheeks flushing with a color that matched the wine on the table. She smiled softly and looked around the room until at last her gaze drifted upward to the chandelier. "Lovely," she managed. "It's all lovely here the architecture, the...the...design. It's very..." 

When words failed Roslin, Blodwyn interjected with, "Is haunted perhaps the word you're looking for?" 

Roslin cleared her throat. "Whoever designed this castle did so with a keen eye," said Roslin politely. 

Across from her, Gia had no answer. All of her energy, her willpower, every fibre of her being seemed to be concentrated solely on not looking at Edric. She'd spent hours with her body pressed close to him, yet couldn't find it in her to meet his eyes. 

Blodwyn, ever the stoic, scowled at the table before her. Daeron's eyes flicked toward her with a regularity that bordered on compulsive, only to snap back forward as if he'd been caught in some guilty act. "Will dinner be provided as a courtesy? We've no coin left to pay," Blodwyn said at last as if that might, somehow, dissipate the strange tension that had been growing, growing, growing. 

What, exactly, is happening here? Roslin wondered, glancing between first her sisters then the men. What have we wandered into? This is...unnatural. 

She was pulled from her thoughts only when the doors to the dining room theatrically slammed open and in came the Lords at last. 

"How lucky for us that a cat named Fate should drop a mouse on our doorstep." 

[bellmare-rose]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴ…

Evil has returned to the world. This there is no denying.

Three sisters, practical magic users far from the great sorcerers of old, have set out with the very realistic and attainable expectation of saving the Known Realm.

Fate sees them summoned to the sibylline Darkhaven Castle, where the Lords of Darkhaven have sought to properly train the sisters. The world as they know it is gone, and instead is replaced with one of great magic, vampires, dragons, and nobility alike. The sisters are getting more than they bargained for.

But so are the Lords.

• • • • • • •

This story is the product of months of back-and-forth writing between two best friends an ocean apart. We wrote this together, in tandem, passing it to one another the way we might have traded notes in school years ago. (Except we didn't meet on school, we met here on Tumblr a decade ago.)

It was never meant to see the light of day. Yet, here we are. 

"The Three Sisters" started as a fun project where the sole purpose was self-indulgent goodness, where we got to see our magical selves romanced by our favorite characters. Our third friend, our real-life "Wyn," (who you're soon to meet) serves as the third sister and proofreader extraordinaire. 

Somehow, somewhere along the line, this went terribly astray, and we ended up with over six hundred pages (and counting) of this fantastic world we created together. 

I am here telling you this because it shows, especially in the beginning, how we were giggling and kicking our feet as we inserted ourselves into shameless love triangles and had not a thought in our heads of pacing, POV, or anything that makes a book a "book." 

Things begin to even out as the story stretches on, if you can bear with us that long, as we began making more of an effort in writing a coherent story. 

Still, we hope you have as much fun reading it as we have had writing it. The names of "familiar characters" have been changed, but we'd love to hear your guesses as to who's who. Truly original characters are few and far between! 

- D.A. Bellmare 

[bellmare-rose]

「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 wavered 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. 

x

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. 

Then 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."

????

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."

[bellmare-rose]

You teach at a magic school, but you do not teach any magic. In fact, you are not even a mage. Yet your classes are among the few that every student has to take, no matter what kind of magic they are studying.

[bellmare-rose]

yes my writing playlist is very cool, very motivational, very curated (I've been listening to Viva La Vida for five hours)

[bellmare-rose]

revising your writing is just like "is this weird. is this a weird sentence. is this the weirdest most poorly-worded sentence ever written by anyone" and the sentence in question is "he walked across the room"

[bellmare-rose]

writers be like; anyone gonna write this story? and then not wait for an answer. and then not write it either

[bellmare-rose]

that character? oh I'm very normal about them. *writes 600 pages of an AU of us in love*