Just as the wizard thought he was going to make it—he found he suddenly had no control over his mouth. It felt . . . frozen. Then the icy feeling spread to his face, then shoulders, until his whole body was stiff and paralyzed, and it was shrinking, shrinking. He fell to the ground with a small thud. Followed by a second one. North. The two found themselves suddenly lying in the snow, unable to move.

The djinni looked down at them both. A dark and terrible laugh echoed from deep inside its chest. It was a laugh like no other. It was the laugh of Pitch.

“May I be your apprentice too, Master Ombric?” he snarled. “I learned your spells of enslavement quickly enough!” North struggled to look over at Ombric, but he couldn’t even blink. Then he began to realize that he wasn’t just paralyzed. “You’re my slaves now!” gloated the djinni. “My little puppets.”

It was true. They’d been turned into small porcelain versions of themselves, no bigger than dolls.

Nicholas Saint North and the Battle of the Nightmare King Chapter 18