One humid afternoon, Jezebeth leaned against the doorframe of Sarah Jane’s room, a mischievous smile curling her lips.

“Do you want to prove you’re not just some scared little doll?” Jezebeth asked.

Sarah frowned, already wary of her sister’s schemes. “What do you mean?”

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“I dare you to visit Father’s warlocks,” Jezebeth said, her tone casual but her eyes glinting. “They’re chained up in the barn. They can’t hurt you.” She leaned in closer, her grin widening. “Unless you’re too scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Sarah protested.

“Then go,” Jezebeth said. “See if they’ll make you into a real doll.” She laughed and walked away, her voice carrying down the hall. “I bet they’ll think you’re perfect for it.”

Jezebeth didn’t believe Sarah would go, but she underestimated her little sister’s determination.