Hag's Rock was true to its name still—a jagged pile of dark rock jutting out of the sea, sparse vegetation scattered amidst barrenness. Raucous bird-cries filled the air as the Silence dropped anchor in a shallow, sheltered bay. Elisabeth watched the red-eyed black birds native to the island swoop and whirl in the sky. The place was deserted, aside from these ominous, feathered greeters and her feral, witch-bitch sisters hidden away in the bowels of the island, tucked away from light and life. At the starboard end of the bay, a weathered shipwreck, its tattered sails fluttering in the wind, served as a warning to unwary travelers. Elisabeth sent out a tendril of necromancy, but there were no bodies, no skeletons on the broken vessel—it was picked clean.

  “Is that it?” Cressia studied the rugged shoreline and black pebble beach that waited a few hundred yards from them. Her shoulders were set in grim determination; they shifted into a tighter formation when she considered the wreck.

  “Aye,” Elisabeth agreed, mouth set in a thin line, the only outward sign that she was concerned about their location and what they were about to face. “It looks impenetrable, but there’s a cave tucked behind a boulder. My sisters live inside the subterranean system—tunnels and caverns.” She didn’t mention her time growing up in that dreadful place. There was no need to draw attention to it. They all had a past.

  “Charming place. Sounds comfortable. Warm and cozy, even.” Moira’s snark was another indication of tension. Coming here was a gamble—everyone knew that. Sailors in the area only spoke of the Hag’s Sisters in whispers. The rumors and superstitions about the place were often softer than the reality. Elisabeth was all too aware of the truth, having lived it for many years.

  “Quite,” she ground out between clenched teeth. Every part of her screamed to retreat, to put their backs to this pile of rocks and find another way to secure the Atlas Stone. She huffed out a long breath, and shook her head, taking comfort in the feel of the braids brushing against her face, and the tickle of feathers and metal from the charms woven into them. Certainly, there were worse things than coming home, and she’d done many of them.

  “Get two longboats ready, split the tributes between them. As few crew as possible. And keep the fire witch in the hold.” The orders she issued were strong and concise, confidence clear in her voice and stance. No one knew that her stomach was cramped with apprehension. Or that she felt dizzy with dread. Her tone was controlled, and that’s all that mattered.

  “Aye, captain.” Moira nodded, her gaze still on the spill of black rocks that cradled the remains of the old, wrecked boat.

  “I want you with me, old friend, but you have command of the ship in my absence, as always.”

  “I don’t like it, but you have your shadow with you, so you’ll be alright. If I don’t see you in five days, I’ll take us back out.”

  “Aye.”

  “I’ll see you off in a span. Won’t take long to get it all ready for you.”

  “And what do you have to say?” The captain turned to her bodyguard.

  “It’s the only way to gain the information we seek, but it feels like a trap.” Cressia’s voice was barely loud enough for Elisabeth to hear.

  “Oh, aye. It is. But not the way you think. They’ve been waiting for me to come home with my tail tucked for many long years. There’ll be a price to pay to leave again.”

  “Your tail doesn’t look tucked to me. You’re using the people and the tools you have.” Elisabeth barked a laugh in response.

  The two women fell into companionable silence. Elisabeth looked at the shipwreck and thought of her escape on a vessel similar to it. Months of planning had led her to the other side of the island, where a ship lay on its side, its crew drowned, or in the caverns waiting for death. She knew it was the solution to her problem—the best way off the heap of rocks she’d called home since her father’s death. There weren’t enough intact bodies to crew the ship, which was a challenge, but she knew how to raise skeletons. Pulling bones together wasn’t as easy as pushing flesh into a second life, but it was possible. The day arrived, she bid her sisters farewell, was cursed at for her trouble, and disappeared from Hag's Rock while her siblings slept. After the numerous confrontations about her desire to leave, she doubted that her departure was a surprise.

  “We’ll have an easier time leaving than I did last time, at any rate,” Elisabeth said after a long moment of contemplation. “I doubt I’ll have to raise the dead.”

  “Will they sense what you’ve done to yourself in the last decade?”

  Elisabeth thought about the question. She wasn’t sure. “I don’t know. Maybe. They’re strong in that type of magic.”

  “If they try to take you, do I have your permission to kill them?”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “I’m not sure you can, old friend, but if you think it’s necessary, you have my leave.”

  “Good.” The bodyguard left without another word, leaving Elisabeth to contemplate the possibility of a world where her bitch-sisters were on the other side, free to harrow and haunt. It might not be an improvement, she thought with a grim smile.

  The beach was black pebbles and driftwood, and all of it covered in birdshit and fishbones—the birds’ primary nourishment. Captain Wolf led her shore party along the narrow path near the cliffs, water sloshing over their boots whenever a larger wave rolled into the bay. The sailors were tense, Cressia and the vanguard on alert, watching for both external threats, and escape attempts from the prisoners. The men were well-kept, and almost jovial after spending time with the women. The sudden removal from the ship had them buzzing with unease. They rounded a corner, ducking beneath an overhang. On the other side, the beach opened up again, and tucked behind a large boulder was the entrance to the Hag’s cave.

  They walked into the damp darkness of the tunnel.

  “Stay close,” Elisabeth spoke over her shoulder as she led the way. After the first bend, she stopped, letting the group gather together. She took a deep breath and when she exhaled she pushed necromancy through the tunnel. Blue witch-lights sprang to life, illuminating the cave around them. The glow did nothing to dispel the cold, or the eerie atmosphere of the place. None of it bothered the She-Wolf—to her it was a homecoming, a welcome mat laid out to bring her back into the tomb after exploring the wide world of the living—but she sensed the others were unsettled. A hush fell over the group; the only noises were the ruffle of clothing and the huffing of breath.

  The group didn’t immediately notice when bones began to appear in the detritus at the bottom of the rough rock walls, but Elisabeth knew they were there. Even without looking, they tugged at her awareness. The weight of old death sat heavy on the cave.

  “Are those bones?” One of the captives whispered, and Elisabeth heard that his eyes were wide with fear, it was so clear in his hushed voice. Silence met his question. No one was willing to speak. No one was willing to draw attention to themselves in this narrow passage cast in blue twilight. The vanguard would hold no matter what they encountered, but the prisoners were a liability. All of them were taller than the women that guarded them, and they were stronger. Terror would only fuel their strength if things got out of hand.

  Elisabeth sighed, not keen to waste her hoarded trinkets on chattel, but she crushed a charm into a burst of magic that blanketed the six men with a sense of calm. She knew that as they went further into her sisters’ domain, the sights were only going to get more disturbing. Their sense of decor served as a final deterrent for any errant wanderers, and a warning to those who might seek them out for the sake of a fight. She still carried a scar from one of the rare attacks on Hag's Rock. The intruders were hungry for the family’s power, but weren’t prepared for what five necromancers could conjure. She’d been able to divert most of the firebomb that came her way, but a few flecks spattered across her face, giving her the freckle-patterned scar. The old scar itched as her thoughts touched on the memory. With a shake of her head, she shoved the recollection aside, focusing her attention on finding the way to the inner sanctum.

  A bend in the tunnel spilled them into a cavern, the light spreading through it as they stepped over its threshold. Skulls covered the walls from floor to ceiling, bathed in cerulean light, and gleaming with wetness. Mushrooms grew from eye holes and noses, bioluminescence adding to the eerie glow for the witch-orbs. Water dripped. The bones whispered, a soft susurrus that raised the hairs on the back of the neck. The vanguard closed in around the men, sensing that they were unnerved despite the spell to keep them calm. Elisabeth was unbothered, but watched her companions closely. An affinity for death left her immune to the fears others carried around ossuaries and corpses—all the things that surrounded them as they moved deeper into the caves of Hag's Rock.

  “You bitches are mad. We’re not going in there.” One of the captives announced as they approached another narrow tunnel. He planted his feet and crossed his arms as best he could with the shackles that circled his wrists. The resistance came later than expected. Captain Wolf walked back to stand in front of the prisoner, hands in the pockets of her long coat. She rocked back on her heels, and tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. He was a full head taller than the She-Wolf.

  “Don’t see how you have a choice.”

  “The six of us can fight you. Better to do that and die, than walk into whatever’s at the end of these tunnels.”

  Elisabeth looked around at the other captives. None of them met her gaze. She saw them struggling against the enchantment she’d cast—the atmosphere of dread that permeated Hag’s Rock overpowering the simple charm. Beguilement wasn’t one of her strengths, and it showed in how quickly the spell began to fray. The vanguard spread out around them, moving into position to be able to draw their weapons. Tension moved through the room in a wave.

  Losing one of the tributes to an avoidable altercation so close to their destination meant doom for their negotiations before they even started. She moved slowly, pulling her hands from her pockets, rings glinting in the dim blue light. She clapped her hands together, a charm between them. The sound startled the troublemaker. When she pulled her hands apart, powder rained to the slick, wet rock under their feet. The She-Wolf smiled, held up her hands, and watched the spirit leave the ringleader. His eyes glazed over and became dull, his stance softened.

  “That’s a good lad,” she purred, and he nodded. “Now, follow along and be quiet.” He shuffled into position to keep moving.

  “What’d she do to him?” The whisper went through the prisoners.

  “Just a spell to keep him docile, and calm. And if any of you others are thinking of resisting, you’ll join your friend. Before you think it seems like a better walk than the one you’re on—he can tell everything that’s happening, but can’t act on it.” Another shiver went through the group. “Good. Let’s keep moving.” She turned her back on the prisoners, and continued toward the exit of the ossuary cavern. Behind her, the captives and the vanguard fell into line and followed. The passage was narrow; the group had to go through one at a time. Cressia walked behind Elisabeth, and the captain knew her bodyguard was displeased at the position. But up ahead, at the next cavern, they faced the Hags, and no matter the sharpness of the knife, no steel could protect them.

  The chamber opened up in front of her. Elisabeth stepped across the threshold. Her sisters sat across from her, an altar of skulls and bones between them, covered in old wax and sigils, candles burning on it even now. The yellow light was a stark contrast to the blue witch-orbs.

  “Welcome home, sister.”