Dahlia Falz's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The front door hung open on broken hinges. Dahlia crossed the threshold with her sisters close behind. The great hall smelled of dust and old bone. Then she saw them. Dead men stood along the walls, still as furniture, their eyes fixed on nothing. Some wore rusted armor. Some wore rags. They did not move, but they breathed a cold that made Dahlia's skin prickle. Cynder hissed and stepped in front of her sister. "Say the word and I burn a path through them." "No," Luna said. She pushed her hood back and studied the dead. "They aren't attacking. They're guarding something." Her silver eyes moved to the far end of the hall. A small figure sat on the stone steps beneath a tall arched window. White hair. A black cloak stitched with pale skulls. She had her back to them and spoke in a low voice to a corpse kneeling at her feet. Dahlia's throat closed. Three centuries of empty rooms and false trails, and here she was. Her daughter. Phyllis. "Phyllis," Dahlia said. Her voice broke on the name. The girl went still. The dead men turned their heads at once, a slow grinding motion, and faced the door. Cynder bared her fangs. Luna crouched, ready to shift. Phyllis rose and turned. Her white eyes were wide. For a moment she only stared, as if she did not trust the sight. Her lips moved without sound. Then she looked past the dead, past the danger, at the pale woman standing in the doorway. "Mother?" Phyllis whispered. The corpses lowered their arms. Their heads dropped. Whatever held them let go all at once, and they sagged against the walls like puppets with cut strings. Phyllis ran. She crossed the hall and threw herself into Dahlia's arms. Dahlia caught her and held on. Her daughter shook against her chest and wept, six centuries old and small as a child again. Dahlia pressed her face to the white hair and let her own tears fall. "You came," Phyllis said. "I called and called. Only the dead ever answered." "I never stopped looking," Dahlia said. "I swear it." Cynder let out a long breath and lowered her fists. Luna stood and rested a hand on Phyllis's trembling shoulder. Then Phyllis pulled back. Fear crossed her face. "You broke the ward to reach me." She gripped her mother's sleeve. "It wasn't mine. Someone else set it. They come at night. They want what's under this house, and now they know you're here." Dahlia looked at the sagging dead, at her sisters, at her daughter's frightened eyes. She had found Phyllis at last. But the manor was not empty, and the ones who had warded it were coming back. We stand our ground I say firmly to every one with a nod then faced Phyllis once more “how many skeletons can you summon “