She was back to the cold, foul-smelling sewers again. The marionette was now retracted into a doll with a sad face. Its lips were sewn to a sad curve. Faustina let go of its hand—and then shifted her gaze to Owen.
Blood.
Owen was bleeding.
Faustina's eyes widened and immediately helped the limping man. He was gasping and heaving. There were claw marks on his skin and slashes on his body.
"A-are you alright?"
"'m fine," Owen answers, "'m glad ye snap outta it,"
Faustina blinked.
"I'm not properly trained but I know warlock's marionettes. They'll weep like babies and will be… evil. We have to go."
And as Faustina helped Owen to his feet, they began to move away from the puppet, without stepping into the circle. Faustina noticed blood on the other hand of the marionette.
"H-hurry," Owen says. "It'll follow us."
"I—I'm sorry—"
