“Nngh!”
Grisela’s groan was loud in the small room, causing Nenet to wake up with a start, wings flaring outward in sudden terror. Although she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, the late hour combined with the tedium of watching over her elder sister’s physical form while she projected her senses through her puppet meant that she’d been unable to help nodding off. But that wasn’t an excuse that Grisela would have accepted; her sister had never been the forgiving sort.
Fortunately, that didn’t seem to be an issue now. Contrary to what Nenet had initially feared, Grisela wasn’t looking at her. In fact, she wasn’t looking at anything at all, eyes squeezed shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand, another groan – of pain, Nenet belatedly realized – escaping her lips.
That she’d escaped what likely would have been another beating brought Nenet no relief, however. All it meant was that her fear settled back into the same low-grade terror she’d been dealing with ever since Mother had headed out on her expedition. Grisela had always hated her, Nenet knew, and now that there was no one around who cared enough to hold the winter hag back, more abuse at her hands was a question of when, not if.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to avoid it as long as she could.
“Grisela?” called Nenet softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking as she crept toward the hag. “Are you alright?”
“I look alright?!” snarled Grisela, her free hand grabbing the black ice staff laid across her lap and lashing out with it blindly.
Nenet had been expecting something like that, however, and it was the only reason she managed to choke down a scream as she threw herself back. Although avoiding the blow wasn’t difficult – when you were the size of a housecat, you tended to be harder to hit, especially when your attacker had their eyes closed – Nenet still felt her heart pounding in her chest, hoping that defending herself hadn’t upset Grisela further. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”
“Shut up!” hissed the hag. “Trying to think!”
Nenet quieted immediately, setting down on the far side of the room and holding as still as she could, even going so far to hold her breath as the winter hag lowered her hand from her face and opened her eyes.
The silence that fell then was oppressive, and Nenet wondered if her heartbeat was as loud as it seemed right then, the burning in her chest as she tried to keep her breath from spilling out growing steadily worse as the seconds slid by. Finally, when she felt like she couldn’t bear it anymore, Grisela let out a sigh. “Go fetch Sissel.”
Nenet let out a rush of air, almost collapsing in relief; mostly because it gave her an excuse to be out of Grisela’s presence for at least a few minutes. “Y-yes!” She turned and made a beeline for the blanket covering the entryway, only to stop as she realized something, wavering just for a moment before managing to speak. “She’s probably sleeping right now…”
“So wake her up,” snapped Grisela.
Not needing any further prompting, Nenet fled the room as fast as her wings could carry her.
It wasn’t until she was sure that Grisela wouldn’t pursue her that she slowed down, taking a moment to calm herself as she touched down. Although the stone floor was cold, it was an acceptable bit of discomfort if it bought her a few extra seconds of relative safety. Still, it was another reason to hope that Mother would be back soon; her illusions had made the semi-worked cave they lived in now seem like an opulent mansion. It might not have been real, but it had been enough to fool Nenet’s senses even despite knowing that.
But it’ll be that way again soon, she reassured herself as she crept toward the area that Sissel had claimed for herself. Mother will come back, and I’ll continue my memorization exercises, just like before. And when I’ve done a good enough job, she’ll tell me who my father is…
The fantasy was one she’d indulged in many times, making it easy for Nenet to lose herself in it now as she paced through the cold halls of the cavern. Once she knew the identity of her father, she’d be able to set out in search of him, leaving Mother and Grisela and Sissel and everyone else behind. And while it would probably be a difficult journey – Mother rarely settled down anywhere for long – it would be worthwhile once she finally found her paternal parent.
He’ll be surprised at first, but he won’t turn me away, Nenet silently assured herself. Once he uses his magic to confirm that I’m really his, he’ll take me under his wing. We’ll study everything together, and he’ll teach me all that he’s learned about astronomy and history and mathematics and religion and magic and medicine and philosophy and everything else that he’s studied! And once he’s taught me everything he knows…
She sighed as she came to Sissel’s chambers, pausing just long enough to finish her fantasy before she pushed the hanging furs aside and entered.
…then I’ll finally become a proper sphinx!
The thought contrasted sharply with the sight that greeted her as she glanced at herself in the full-length mirror standing on the far side of Sissel’s room. Looking back at her was a meek, tiny little creature. One whose feline body was small enough to be stepped on, rather than the large and impressive figure she’d seen in her mother’s books. Her wings were equally unimpressive, her feathers a dull brown rather than the majestic burgundy in the illustrations she’d stolen glimpses of whenever she’d had the chance.
More disappointing was her face. Surrounded by matted fur rather than actual hair, her features were flat and unrefined, with thin lips and a mashed nose; taken together with her beady eyes and how large the rounded ears on the sides of her head were, what should have been a noble visage instead looked more like that of a monkey. Though even that was better than her tail, which was thick and ungainly, with ugly nubs protruding from the end of it.
All in all, it was a body Nenet hated looking at. But that wouldn’t change until she finally accumulated enough knowledge – and there was no way to know how much was required – to grow into her proper self. Which meant that there was nothing she could do but continue following the limited curriculum that Mother had her studying, until she could uncover her father’s identity and let him take over her education.
Until then, she just had to do her best to stay alive…something that was suddenly in doubt as Nenet looked away from the mirror only to find the blade of an axe held to her throat.
“What are you doing in my room?” came a low voice from the side of the room, its owner making no move to rise from the pile of furs she was lying in.
Trying not to shake lest she accidentally open her gullet on the blade, Nenet needed a moment to find her voice. “G-Grisela sent me. She w-wants to s-see you, Sissel.”
The axe made no move away from her neck. “Why?”
“She d-didn’t say,” replied Nenet, giving a squeak when the blade at her neck pressed ever-so-slightly harder against her skin. “I th-th-think something went wr-wrong when she went to c-c-collect food from those p-ponies!”
Sissel considered that for a long moment, then finally lowered the axe, causing Nenet to almost collapse with relief. Sissel was also her sister, but while she wasn’t cruel like Grisela, she also had no love for the smallest of her siblings. Rather, she was simply disinterested in her, the same way she was in everything that couldn’t be used to help her grow stronger.
“Has she sent for anyone else?” asked Sissel, sitting up at last. “Vidrig? Paska?”
“No. Just you,” murmured Nenet, watching as Sissel stood up and began to dress.
Like Grisela, Sissel was humanoid in figure. But the differences between the two of them were profound. Whereas Grisela’s body was hunched and gnarled, Sissel stood straight, looking every inch of her twelve feet in height. Grisela’s skin was mottled and frostbitten; Sissel’s was smooth, the milk-white flesh stretched tightly over firm muscles. Grisela’s hair was long, stringy, and pale; Sissel’s was platinum blonde, cut to a quarter-inch in length.
Even their taste in clothes was a study in contrasts. Grisela wore little other than loose robes, whereas Sissel was already pulling on a leather cuirass, lined with metal studs, over her nightclothes. Not sure if she’d been dismissed or not, Nenet could only wait as Sissel continued to dress, pulling on matching greaves, boots, bracers, a skirt, and finally a helmet before slinging her axe over her back.
It was only when she’d finished dressing that Sissel turned to the mirror that Nenet had glimpsed herself in before. Laying a finger on its polished surface, the snow giant – for that was Sissel’s race, Nenet knew – traced an arcane pattern against the silver glass, murmuring an incantation as she did. Immediately, the mirror shrank, going from being nearly tall enough for Sissel to examine herself in to being barely bigger than Nenet. But the miniature sphinx had no time to admire the magical display as Sissel picked up the shrunken reflector and tucked it beneath her armor before turning to the entrance, never once giving Nenet so much as a glance. “Come.”
Wincing at the prospect of going back into Grisela’s presence, Nenet flew behind Sissel wordlessly, knowing that it was pointless to protest. Sissel would simply have grabbed her and carried her along, and while that was far less painful than a beating, she wouldn’t have made any effort to be gentle. Given the snow giant’s tremendous strength, it wouldn’t have been a pleasant experience, Nenet knew.
All too soon, they were back at Grisela’s quarters, to which Sissel entered without knocking, Nenet touching down and slinking in behind her, hoping not to be noticed.
“About time!” snapped Grisela irritably, glaring up at the taller humanoid.
“Sister,” replied Sissel, her calm voice a sharp contrast to the winter hag’s. “Am I to understand that what should have been a routine expedition to restore our provisions ran into unexpected trouble?”
Grisela shot Nenet a dark look then, and the sphinx shuddered, knowing that another beating was guaranteed now. “Resistance,” spat the crone as she looked back at Sissel. “Ready and waiting when we arrived.”
Sissel’s face remained impassive, but the scorn in her voice deepened just a touch. “We’ve been using that village to resupply our food stocks for some time now. It was inevitable that they’d put out a call for aid, even with the blizzard we created isolating them. You should have expected a fight.”
“Not like this!” howled Grisela, furious at being talked down to. “More than just fools and weaklings! One, a masked unicorn, had real power!”
One corner of Sissel’s lip turned up. “Power enough to destroy that simulacrum you were projecting yourself through?”
Grisela gnashed her teeth, but her lack of denial was an answer in and of itself. Sissel waited another few seconds, her smirk speaking to how much she enjoyed her sister’s humiliation, before she returned to the business at hand. “The yetis will probably flee the scene now that you’ve been defeated,” she mused. “We should get Paska to round them up before they lead whoever bested you back here.”
“Won’t happen,” muttered Grisela, her voice turning bitter. “All of them, dead.”
Sissel stopped at that, and Nenet saw her eyes widen just a bit. “All of them? You’re certain?”
“Told you that pony had real power,” spat Grisela. “Summoned a beast. Giant wolf in black armor. Tore our brothers apart all by itself.”
“By itself?” The disbelief was audible in Sissel’s voice. “They were slaughtered – each and every one of them – by one single creature that this masked unicorn of yours summoned?”
“Ripped them up good,” snorted the winter hag. “Least they’ll have difficulty questioning their corpses that way.”
“This is a disaster!” Although she wasn’t yelling, the intensity in Sissel’s voice made Nenet wince. “We needed those yetis! They were supposed to be the vanguard for our attack on Hvitdod’s lair! They might not have been individually strong, but they would have served to keep him busy while we wore him down!”
“Still have enough,” muttered Grisela, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Maybe,” admitted Sissel. “But the lack of fodder means that we’ll lose most of our forces in the attempt. That means that when Mother gets back, and we move on to the next stage of the plan, there’ll be almost no one to guard us while we perform the necessary spell-work, which is going to be a problem since apparently there’s a masked pony out there who’s a serious threat!” Taking a moment to calm herself, Sissel shook her head. “We need to tell Mother what’s happened.”
Grisela’s reaction was immediate. “NO! Can still fix this!”
“There’s a chance that Mother hasn’t launched her attack yet,” explained Sissel, reaching for the small mirror she’d tucked beneath her armor. “If we tell her that we’ve hit a setback, she can abort her operation and come back here with the rest of our siblings. They’ll be able to wipe out whoever this unicorn is while Mother replenishes our ranks, at which point we can all try again. But that’s only possible if we contact her before she strikes! After that, she’s committed, and so are we!”
“I’ll be blamed!” shrieked Grisela. “Not just our brothers that Mother replaces! Not just me, either! You too!”
Sissel’s eyes narrowed. “I had nothing to do-”
“Bet Mother will agree?” interrupted Grisela. “Left you in charge, remember!”
For a moment, neither moved, the two of them staring at each other. Finally, Sissel sighed, replacing the shrunken mirror beneath her cuirass. “You better have a plan for how to fix this.”
“Beginning of one,” admitted Grisela. “Pony killed our brothers, so pony can take their place.”
Sissel cocked a brow. “You want to force him to fight for us? How?”
“Working on it!” snarled Grisela. “Why I called you!”
By now Nenet was creeping toward the exit, knowing that she’d already heard too much. But she’d barely made it when Grisela darted forward, snagging her by the tail and lifting her into the air. “Almost forgot about you!” she hissed. “Can’t have you ruining things!”
“N-no! NO! Grisela, please! I won’t say anything!” whimpered Nenet, terrified now. “I swear, I won’t!”
“Got that right,” laughed the winter hag, her voice thick with malicious glee.
“You can’t kill her.” Sissel’s voice made it clear that wasn’t negotiable. “She’s Mother’s backup spellbook. Her dying will only make things worse for us.”
“Don’t have to kill her,” snorted Grisela, before baring her crooked teeth in an evil leer. “Just shut her up good.”
Sissel rolled her eyes. “Then be quick about it. Time isn’t on our side.”
“Don’t worry,” cooed Grisela, tightening her grip on Nenet’s tail, the tiny sphinx sobbing as the hag raised her staff. “Won’t take long at all.”