It was the sound of the door opening drew the attention of the women.

In Netta's arms, Ophelia tried to struggle, but Netta kept easy hold of her. Monster strength granted Netta with an abundance of power to use in containing the struggling teenager. Witch or no, Ophelia was, after all, only a Human.

"Please," the girl cried, her voice desperate, squeaking. "Please let me go, don't do this -"

It took the robed figures a moment, weaving through the boxes of the endless storage space, before they found Netta. Two of them wore black while one wore a robe that seemed to shimmer in its pure whiteness.

One of the figures in black spoke up, her slightly husked voice revealing to Netta that it was Sia. "What's this, little Nettles?"

After she had been silent - seemingly in a state of shock for the entire time that Netta had taken hold of Ophelia - Winnie spoke up in a loud cry. "Stop her, everyone just stop it!"

Not expecting it when Ophelia jerked in response to Winnie, Netta felt the blade she had pressed to the girl's neck softly glance into the tender skin. The girl yelled, then sobbed. Netta almost reacted thoughtlessly, yanking the knife away.

Netta kept the cold expression trained on her face. It was, she knew, nearly an identical expression as the one that Hera once wore frequently. The one that Netta thought, on occasion, she could see in her nightmares.

Softly pulling the knife's edge away from the teenager's neck, Netta spoke to the white robed figure in the center. "I've thought about what you've told me. I think we can come to an agreement, in the spirit of sacrificing for the good of all Witch-kind."

Before Hera could answer, the other black-robed figure spoke up. Netta recognized, immediately, the high, uncanny voice of her youngest sister. "This is stupid! Mother, let's do the ceremony and we can get this over with."

As the hooded white figure turned to look at the shorter, black robed figure, everything in the room seemed to quiet so that all around Netta there seemed to be an infernal buzzing. "On the contrary, child," Hera softly said. "Everything is going according to plan. Your older sister has shown her true colors. How her fear is her guiding star that she uses to lead her out of this situation." When Beryl scoffed and seemed about to talk, Hera cut her off. "My dear, if you doubt me so much, perhaps you would like to prove your worth to me."

Netta froze, her mind spinning as she tried to make sense of what was happening. She had had little time to plan for how to make a distraction, and she was under the impression that things had somehow just gotten much, much worse.

As though in answer to her worst fears, Beryl threw her hood back and cried out. "I don't - I can't - Mother -" Hera snapped her fingers, and in a moment, Beryl's voice turned into a shriek.

Confused by what was happening, Netta watched as her younger sister fell to the ground, writhing in what looked like severe pain. Again, Netta nearly broke her cover, moved for a moment to throw the knife away and run to her fallen sister's side.

Beryl cried out, her child-like features contorted into pain and sorrow. "Mother - no!"

Hera waited until her youngest had finished before she spoke, raising her hand to point her finger down at the fallen Witch. "I wouldn't mind a chance to deal with the bleating of at least one of you, for once and all. Get to your feet, I think I have an idea of how to choose which of you two is most deserving of a chance at my side."

Netta crouched lower to the ground, hoping that the top of her head was hidden by the top of the boxes. She wondered, crazily, if the beating of her heart could be heard. I'm alright. I think that I'll be okay.

She closed her eyes, tried to focus, with all of her might, on whether or not if she could hear the sound of her sister. It had grown eerily, horrifically, silent in the vast, endless room. Netta's heart sank as she slid backward, feeling her back bump into a cardboard box. She wanted safety, to be out of the endless space of the storage room.

Netta heard the small voice, seeming to come from behind the wall of cardboard boxes behind her. The voice was high - squeaky - and she barely heard it, faint as it spoke. "Where's my big sister? I want to play with big sister Nettles."

Netta froze, the only animation in her body the near-violent shaking of her limbs. It wasn't until she heard Ashwood's voice, as it rang, loudly, in her mind that she could feel some control returning to her. Get ahold of yourself!

Netta sprang into a crouch, her eyes hunting for a way to get away from that voice. A voice that she remembered all too well from a childhood. How long has it been since I last woke up to feeling all of those dolls with Beryl's voice as they crawled over me?

She recalled her mother's words, spoken as Beryl wailed for her. The bindings in this room are weaker than elsewhere in the house. You would recall that yourself, would you not, for it's undoubtedly how you snuck your husband into our home so long ago. If you could make use of your own monstrous powers, you might be able to survive. If not... well, my little girl will give me whatever she leaves of you, which I will give to your liege.

Netta's eyes caught a space in the chaotic jumble of boxes ahead of her. There! She leaped forward, began to crawl on hands and knees through the crevice, squirming frantically through the stacks. Finally she pulled herself through to the other side, breathed a sigh of relief when the boxes did not come crashing down from the force of her rushing through them.

Her relief was short lived, however, as she heard the voice from before, the high-pitched little-girl's voice as it rang out in the room. "Ne-t-t-a! Don't run away, please! I'm as confused by what's been happening as you are! Big sister, I'm scared!"

Netta's gaze flew around as she struggled to think of how she would mean to escape her younger sister. She turned to her right, then found that there seemed to be something resembling a cohesive path through the stacks of boxes and the mess of forgotten furniture. Netta got to her feet, then began to rush through the winding path, crouching slightly as she ran.

When the voice returned, it seemed to have lost its child-like lightness, possessing a low, barreling growl that sent a terrible chill up Netta's spine as she heard it. "Listen, you little bitch. I don't have time for this. I have an eternity to play with your little friends, your Monster father and boyfriend. I'll put all of their consciousnesses in my dolls. And they'll scream and scream from the pain, because it's painful when I rip someone out of their body and put them into one of my dollies."

Netta clenched her eyes shut and struggled to regain her breathing. How long had it been, since she had found out about the missing Human children, only to discover her little sister playing with dolls that had a life of their own?

Dolls that could walk and talk, would obey the orders of Beryl. Dolls that were prone, also, to weeping.

Netta had always known, no matter how she had tried to repress it, that the dolls that had always seemed able to find her when she was alone had something wretched about them. She would have had to of kidded herself to not think that there was some sort of a connection between the missing children and the dolls. At least, not after Netta had found the collection of clothes that Beryl had kept in her closet.

They were clothes that belonged to a variety of body sizes and had no right to have been in the young Witch's closet.

Netta continued down the path until she had hit a dead end. Panic began to overcome her ability to think, reason.

Ash's voice was like a cold slap to Netta's face, rousing her from her panic. You cannot run from that thing. You must touch it, your touch will disintegrate it.

Netta gulped, disbelief and horror at his words shocking her. Ash, I'm not capable of that. I can't - I won't - She started to stumble, feet staggering in front of her as she tried to maneuver through fallen furniture, boxes. She could find a hiding spot, in the hope that her sister - and the thing - would go away.

Ash's voice rose, imperious, striking Netta, for the first time, as the voice belonging, truly, to a King. Stop this at once. You are thinking like a Witch.

What he was alluding to made Netta feel sick, a knee-jerk reaction to the connotation that she was not acting like she should. Like a - a -

The sound, of so many boxes falling over, all at once, made Netta dive down. She whacked her back against the boxes that she had been struggling to find a way through, sending all of the air still in her lungs out in a croaking, pained gasp.

Turned around, Netta looked up in time to see the horrible thing that burst through a hole created in the great walls of boxes. Its face seemed to be a still mask, a bleached-bone that had ink-black cracks that seemed to grow along it. Upon closer look at the giant thing, it struck Netta that what she was looking at was the face of one of Beryl's favorite dolls, but much, much larger than it had a right to be -

It spoke, stiff, small, red lips moving, vivid blue eyes seeming to rotate, slowly, sickeningly, in their sockets. "NETTLES, STOP RUNNING FROM ME. YOU'LL LIKE BEING IN ONE OF MY DOLLS. YOU WON'T EVER BE ALONE AGAIN, LIKE YOU WERE FOR SO LONG. YOU'LL BE WITH THE REST, IN MY COLLECTION."

It seemed, somehow, to not have caught sight of Netta. Before It could turn in her direction, Netta ducked down, hiding behind a tipped-over box. She almost laid on her belly, how low she crouched.

Ash's voice sounded angry as it rang, loud, in her mind. I won't just let you die, especially not like this.

About to begin to crawl to the other side of the fallen box, Netta froze. It was something that he had said that stopped her cold. Let you. He said let you -

The doll spoke, the bastardized version of Beryl's voice feeling as though it was severing what sense Netta thought she had been able to make. "I KNOW YOU'RE CLOSE. I CAN SMELL YOUR FOULED MAGIC. YOU NEVER SMELLED LIKE ONE OF OUR KIND. LET ME REND YOUR BODY, FREE YOU FROM THE HALF-BREED BODY YOUR SOUL IS TRAPPED IN."

Anger, along with horror and sorrow, fueled Netta. How dare this one think that she had a right to denigrate her?

The horrible, distorted voice of her sister called out again. "YOU'RE A SACRIFICIAL LAMB, YOU STINK OF DEATH. YOU WANT THAT BEAST'S APPROVAL BECAUSE HE'S YOUR FAILED KING - YOUR TRAITOR KING. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING TO DO? HOW DOES SOMETHING LIKE YOU EVEN STILL HAVE A WILL TO LIVE?"

Netta had crept past the box, was peeking out from a secluded spot. She glanced up, saw that the giant doll was looking in the direction opposite her. Netta took in a deep breath, tried to think, desperately, of what she should do. Could do.

Unwelcome, Ash's voice broke through the splintering panic of Netta's mind. His voice had taken on a different tone than it had before, cold and harsh. Do not make me force you to save yourself.

Netta could not stop herself. In spite of everything that they had gone through together, she balked at the connotation that had been clear in his words. Make me? How, precisely, do you plan on making me do anything?

Netta, his voice sounded harsh, desperate, even. Now's not the time for this -

The sound, of many boxes falling to the ground, made Netta fall backward. She gazed up only to behold, hovering above her like some insane and splintering moon, the gigantic, cracked porcelain face of a doll.

When It spoke, Its voice seemed like it was speaking directly to Netta from some of the worst nightmares that she had ever experienced. "GAZE ON ME, FOR I AM HERE TO DEVOUR YOU."

"Oh, Goddess -"

Ash's voice in her mind barely registered, a shade of darkness that barely managed to stand out from the screaming in Netta's mind. I thought I once told you to never swear on that woman -

The great doll reached forward, fingers parted as the hand advanced on the crouching, huddled mass Netta had become.

Netta closed her eyes, felt the hitching in her chest. All at once, oblivion felt as though it were closing around her. Welcoming her into the cold, brutal grasp of the golem that her younger sister had created.

Ash's voice was like a bark, rising, suddenly, over the maelstrom in Netta's mind. Move! Leap to the right!

It was as though his words had electrified her body. Netta felt her arms, legs moving, as though control had been seized from her of her body. She rolled backward, crashing into another column of boxes. Netta felt control return to her body, as her back hit the boxes. She gasped, looking up in time to see the doll as it failed as it roughly swiped where she had been only a moment before. In spite of the terrible sight of the animated grotesquerie, Netta felt as though she were clawing through her mind, as though she might pull a tick loose from it. What is - what did you -

She feared what she thought she had felt, the moment her body had given up control, taken over by the overwhelmingly powerful will. Possession, he's possessed me.

No, that imperious voice corrected her. I don't need to possess one of my disciples.

Then what -

I'm a part of all of you, my voice is a compulsion to do what I order of you. Your transformation has made you all but a corporeal Magic. Bound to the will of - me.

Horror and confusion washed over Netta. What had she done, without thought, accepting the transformation into a Monster without thinking of the repercussions of it? How had she not thought of the fact that Monsters were beholden first to their Masters, then to their first Master-

Their King.

Nettles, Ash's voice started to betray a panic, angry, as he spoke. now would be a better time to worry about being crushed by your sister than worrying over - he stopped abruptly, then screamed. Above you, move out of the way-

Netta had glanced up in time to see the encroaching shadow as it fell over her. It was only because of the order that Ash gave her that she stumbled back, hitting a dresser covered in a long, dust-covered sheet. Around her, the boxes crashed to the ground on the spot where Netta had been standing only a few moments before.

It had been a great amount of boxes that rained down, and Netta did not doubt that if she had been where those boxes were, she would have been broken beneath them. If Ash hadn't made her move -

Beyond the half-wall, created by the falling boxes, Netta saw more movement. A wall of pale, horrible white seemed to rise, like a cresting wave of bones beyond the wall of cardboard. As Netta stared at the thing, she realized, moments before she found the sunken blue marble of its eye, what she was seeing.

Instinctively, Netta shrank back, her shoulders whacking against the solid mass of the dresser. She looked to her right, then realized that the falling boxes had created a path. She jumped, running on top of the boxes as she stumbled over the place where all of the boxes had been only a few moments ago.

As she leaped off of the boxes, she heard a sound that was like the Earth - no, Hell - opening up. Falling into the newly opened corridor, Netta whipped around, watched as seemingly the whole of the wall of boxes that she had broken a hole in was sent, crashing. After they had fallen, in their place came a pale white, massive arm as it seemed to bloom from out of the crater it had created in the wall of boxes like a snake creeping after its prey.

A booming, distorted voice keened out to Netta from the barrier of the wall. "YOU ARE POWERLESS WITHOUT THE USE OF YOUR FAMILIAR'S MAGIC, HERE. SUCCUMB TO ME AND I WILL MAKE YOUR DEATH SWIFT."

Netta began to run, then, thinking better of it, got onto her hands and knees and began to crawl. She moved, quickly, until Netta was past the curve, desperately crawling past the dresser that her back had hit before. No sooner than she had moved then she heard the crashing sound of more boxes cascading to the ground, the sound of something massive, heavy, landing on the ground as though It had leaped where Netta had been close to prior.

This creature - it's going to kill me.

As Netta began to scrabble along the tight, labyrinthine corridor of boxes and furniture, she heard Ash's voice in her mind. His voice sounded higher pitched than she thought she had ever heard him before. He sounded tormented, devastated. Why won't you turn and face it? Why can't you believe that you can kill that thing?

As Netta crept through the path amidst the never ending maze of the storage room, she felt herself thinking what she had been trying to suppress as though in answer to him. How can I face any of them down, without Ash as my weapon?