Hey all,
Been a minute since I've posted anything. I decided to take a stab at doing Nanowrimo, so thought I'd post up my chapters here. After April's Fool, I decided I had more to say about Witches, eldritch horrors, and the meaning of love and transformation. Let me know what you think. This book is not written by AI, although I did use it for help with the Old English, editing, and the images.
I'll be posting twice-ish per week. I am posting daily chapters on my Patreon however, along with other stuff related to transformation!
Of Sælicbrook
In þe ælden tymes, bifor þe split of land and þe swift growþ of man's ræches, þere was a stede, hid from mannes eye, yclept Sælicbrook. 'Twas a hallowed ground, cradled by þe armes of Grendel’s Mounts, and þriving unseen 'twixt þe creases of realities.
Ne by þe chart or path may one fynd it, for Sælicbrook abideth in both þe seen and þe unseen, þe þere and þe þence. It lieth æver under þe watchful eighen of þe olden gods and þe eldritch kynrede þat roame its æther.
On þe time þat þe firmament weaveth thin and þe stars align in fateful ordnung, Sælicbrook revealeth itsellf to þose with þe gift of þe second sight. To þe unawares, 'tis naught but brume and þe idle chattering of brook to willow.
Yet þe wyse know þe trume. For in Sælicbrook's embrace, magick stirs; ælde þat is æterne, awaiting þe chosen to tread its cobbled wegs and unfurl þe misterys long slept in its bosom.
So take heed, þe seeker of þe þreades of fate, for to enter Sælicbrook is to steppe beyond þe mere veil of this middangeard and to walk þe twilight paþ of those þat dwell 'yond þe edge of our kenning.
—"Þæt Bēc Þrīwa-Wǣfena Paða"
**Translated Text:
Of Sælicbrook
In the ancient times, before the division of the land and the rapid expansion of mankind's domains, there existed a place, hidden from human sight, known as Sælicbrook. It was sacred ground, nestled in the arms of Grendel’s Mountains, flourishing unseen between the folds of reality.
No map or path can lead one to it, for Sælicbrook dwells in both the visible and invisible, the here and the beyond. It lies forever under the watchful eyes of the ancient gods and the strange kin that roam its ether.
Only when the sky fabric grows thin and the stars align in a destined order does Saelicbrook reveal itself to those with the gift of second sight. To the unaware, it is nothing but mist and the idle chattering of a brook to a willow.
Yet the wise are aware of the truth. For within Saelicbrook’s embrace, magic stirs; an ageless power, eternal, waiting for the chosen to walk its cobbled ways and unveil the mysteries that have long slumbered within its heart.
So beware, the seeker of the threads of destiny, for to enter Sælicbrook is to step beyond the mere veil of this world and to walk the twilight path of those that dwell beyond the boundary of our understanding.
"The Book of Thrice-Woven Paths" (Tome I, Chapter IV, Page 78)
The Thirteenth Witch
Chapter One
by Raine Monday
**Images by Dall-E 3
Lydia's left foot hurt. Frowning, she stopped, attempting to make her foot more comfortable in the RedRock Ladies' deluxe size 8 hiking boot she'd purchased just days before at Hiker's Trail Sporting Goods in Chicago. "Stupid Chicago, stupid sporting goods store not knowing about stupid women's feet!" she muttered as she attempted to get her foot comfortable again.
"You okay, babe?" Thomas asked, pulling up next to her. Thomas wore the same boots he'd always worn since high school. Men didn't have to worry about stupid hiking boots; they'd hike with freakin' cardboard strapped to their feet if you let them.
"Yeah, my foot hurts. Probably these new boots."
"Probably those new boots," Thomas echoed. Then he started walking again.
"Funny man," Lydia said.
Deciding not to let a little discomfort ruin their trip, she inhaled the clean air of the Coast Range Mountains in Oregon. Specifically, they were hiking Mary's Peak in the Siuslaw National Forest. The terrain, while not as tough as some of the hikes they'd been on, was still beautiful, with Douglas fir and pine trees surrounding them.
"God, it's beautiful here," Lydia said.
"Thank you," Thomas gave her a grin.
"Pfft. You know, one of these days, I tell ya, one of these days," Lydia 'wound' her arm as if getting ready to throw a punch.
"Boom, right in the kisser?" Thomas asked, pulling her into his arms.
"Yes, Mister."
Thomas chuckled, giving her a soft kiss. His heavy beard scruffed her smooth skin. She loved his beard, loved how he took charge, his confidence, his easy-going manner. She loved him.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Think we'll get to the summit before that sets in?" Lydia asked, looking off into the distance.
"Yeah?" Thomas scratched his reddish long hair. "Maybe?" He tugged at his beard. "Probably?"
"That's what I like to hear," Lydia said, starting hiking again. "Yeah, Maybe, and Probably."
"I aim to please," Thomas said, following her up the mountain.
They'd left Chicago and the trail of tears behind them. Things had not gone well for them as a young couple. Thomas worked long hours at a factory he hated, and Lydia worked endless days teaching middle-school science. And then there had been the baby…
She sighed, shaking the funk out of her head. No, she was not going to go down that rabbit hole. But Thomas had been her rock, her reality. He'd been so sensitive, kind, and forgiving of her emotional outbursts. It was time to put all that in the past, move onward and upward, which led them to the Oregon coast in search of a home.
After viewing nearly ten possibilities, the couple was overwhelmed with the home-buying process. With their cash reserves running out, and time edging away until Lydia needed to find a fall job, the couple decided some fresh air would clear the decks and help them make a decision on which home to purchase.
It was down to four possibilities. Well, five, if you counted the double-wide on an acre near Oysterville. She'd been so certain about her needs, her list for the perfect home, but all the homes that were perfect were out of their reach financially, and all of the homes that were in their financial range didn't have one or another of the items on her list! It was infuriating, as if the gods, or God above, were conspiring against them.
Reading her mind, as he always did, Thomas said, "You know, the four-bedroom on Peach Street didn't have the third bedroom, but we could always rough out the basement."
"God, I hate it when you read my mind!" she laughed. "Yeah, I was just thinking about that. But it doesn't have enough natural light."
"We could always saw a hole in the roof."
"I'm back to the duplex on Vine. I know it's out of our price range, but we could always rent out the other—"
"And deal with tenants? What if we get people like your roommate?"
Lydia sighed. It was old territory. Her roommates in college all smoked pot and never took the trash out. The house was rank and trash-filled, except for her bedroom.
"We'll be careful in the selection, Doofus," she said.
Thomas sighed, shaking his head, not saying anything, which said everything he needed to say.
"Okay, alright, I get it." She started walking up the trail, trying not to limp from the pain in her foot.
The first sprinkles of the storm blew into their windswept faces as they climbed the summit. Lydia had put on her orange windbreaker she'd stowed in her backpack and shivered a bit as they looked to the west.
"Can't see the ocean. Can you?" Lydia craned her neck as the wind blew raindrops into her exposed face.
"Nope," Thomas said. "But we made it!" He pulled her into his arms.
Lydia snuggled in, trying to wrap his body warmth around her. "Guess we should head downhill before the full storm hits."
Lightning split the sky, and thunder roared.
"Think we're a bit too late for that," Thomas said. They turned around and started to go back down the way they came.
If it wasn't enough, Lydia's foot had gone from hurting to Hurting with a capital 'H'. She limped, trying to ease the pain as the rain turned from a sprinkle into a downpour driven by the wind.
Sliding and slipping down the muddy trail, the couple found the path cut off by a wide river of water rushing across their trail. "This way!"
Thomas shouted, following a ridgeline. The rain was so heavy and the terrain so steep, Lydia feared she'd slip and fall and tumble down the mountain, ass over teakettle. The amount of tension she had to put on her left foot was nearly unbearable, and she thought for sure she must have a giant bruise or, God forbid, maybe even a broken bone. If anything, the storm intensified with rain and wind driving straight into their faces.
Thomas grabbed her hand. "Back here!" he shouted. "There's a little cavern!"
Lydia nodded, shivering, hopping on her good right foot as she could hardly stand on her left. Thomas held out a tarpaulin he always carried in his backpack and wrapped it around her shoulders. "C'mere, my little burrito."
Lydia shivered and huddled into his arms. "I really need to sit down, Señor."
Thomas kicked a stump over from an ancient deadfall and set it up, brushing the worst of the water off. "Here you go, milady."
Lydia sat, sighing, glancing around the cavern. It wasn't much, just an overhang, but it would do in a pinch. Although, with this heavy downpour, the rain could also be sluicing through the topsoil and bring the whole thing down—
Stop that, she told herself. No, no landslides here.
"How long do you think this will last?" Lydia asked.
Thomas shrugged. "Forever, orever, rever, ever..." he echoed into the distance.
"Jackass," Lydia said. "For real, though, my foot is killing me. How long?"
Thomas looked out at the sheeting rain and up into the grey sky. "No telling. It wasn't supposed to rain today at all."
Lydia nodded, looking into the back of the cavern. There were some ancient scrawls back there... unless it was graffiti. "What's that?" she pointed at the scrawls.
Thomas made his way to the back of the cavern. He had to navigate through the scree carefully; it was very loose and rocky.
"Huh," he said. "Some graffiti... and what looks like, I dunno, cave drawings. They can't be real, can they?"
Lydia got up and limp-hopped over to him. "The monster inside my mind is about to explode..." she said, reading one of the phrases.
"What?" Thomas asked.
"That," she pointed. "That's what that says."
Thomas shook his head. "Lydia, it's all just scrawls. There are no letters there."
"Sælicbrook abideth in both," she read. "Sælicbrook... hmm," she thought. "Sælic"—she gave that some thought—Happy? Silly? It didn't make sense. "Brook" seemed to imply a town of some sort, or a stead, or a home... "Sillyhome?"
Thomas stared at her. "Lyds?"
Blinking, she turned to him. "Hmm?"
"How did you know that language? It's not even written in English; it all appears like scribbles."
"Don't be silly. I can read it perfectly well..."
She stared at the letters. When had she learned to read the runes? Wait, that wasn't right; they weren't runes at all. They were...
Her head started to hurt right between her eyes. "Whoa," she said, stumbling back to the stump. She felt like she'd been on a roller coaster ride, or a Ferris wheel, or a boat of some kind.
"Are you okay, baby?"
"Yeah, I'm motion-sick for some strange reason." She put her head between her knees and tried to quell the sickness in her stomach.
Thomas stood near her, ever the rock, patting her back. "You'll be okay."
She took a few deep breaths and nodded. "Sounds like the rain's stopped."
Thomas nodded, walking to the front. "Looks like it's at least cleared up a bit, though it will be night soon. Can you walk?"
Lydia nodded, getting up again, and nearly falling as she put weight on her foot. "Maybe not."
"Here, let's see. Take your boot off."
Lydia sighed, feeling ridiculous. She'd paid a lot of money for these boots. She unlaced the laces and gingerly slid her foot out.
Thomas clicked on a flashlight—because, of course, he had one—and shone it down on her foot. The area at the base of her big toe was swollen and red, and her toe looked like it had slipped underneath the second toe.
"My foot looks deformed," she said, trying to wiggle her toes. They ached, and her big toe felt like it was on fire.
"I don't see a blister or anything, but we need to get that looked at," Thomas said.
She nodded.
"Here, give me your boot." Thomas took her boot and stuffed it into his magical backpack. She didn't know how he crammed all that stuff in there, but he always had a handy book, first aid supplies, flashlight, compass, toilet paper—the works. He was always prepared.
"Put your arm around my neck, and we'll get you out of here," he said, standing up.
Gratefully, Lydia stood, lifting her left foot into the air, and putting her left arm around Thomas's neck. They began a shuffle walk out of the cavern and down the mountain.
As they left the cavern, the glyphs on the wall sparkled a bit, then winked out.
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The Thirteenth Witch
Chapter Two Sælicbrook
by Raine Monday
Dusk had fallen as they made their way down the mountain. The trail had provided a convenient path for the water to flow down the mountain, but it had turned into a muddy rivulet, forcing the couple to find an alternate route. To make matters even more adventurous, Thomas thought, a fog rolled in, obliterating the world around them to less than a few feet.
"I can see a town!" Lydia exclaimed, looking off toward the right.
Thomas glanced in that direction. "I see nothing but more fog."
"No, Thomas, it's right there! I can see the lights starting to turn on and everything," Lydia insisted.
Thomas sighed and nodded, angling them in the direction of Lydia's mysterious town.
"Don't sigh at me in that tone of voice," Lydia said.
"Sorry," Thomas replied with a grin. "I'll try to sigh better."
"As you should," Lydia said, poking him. "I know you don't believe me, but there's a town right over there! We're less than a mile away; you'll see."
Thomas tried to estimate the setting sun but it was impossible in the gloom. He wished he could grab his phone; even though they had no signal, he wanted to know the time. But his phone was in the utility pocket of his backpack, and he'd have to stop to get it, which meant setting Lydia down, which in turn meant she might stumble—and she wasn't even wearing a sock at this point. Her foot troubled him. He had seen foot issues like that before, but not sudden ones. They were usually brought on by long hours of wearing the wrong footwear.
Lydia grunted and groaned as she hop-skipped, but they made decent time. He had to give her credit; Lydia was tough.
Thomas's back was starting to complain when they passed through some tall grass, and then...
It was as if they had walked through some barrier. A moment before, there had been nothing but fog, mist, and a light drizzle from the sky above, and then they were in a town, or a village, or... something.
"Willowbrook!" Lydia said, hopping a little faster.
"What?" Thomas said. "How did you know—"
"It's on the sign right there, doofus," Lydia pointed out, smiling at him. He loved her smile, the strange little light in her eyes she sometimes had, the way she laughed at his jokes. He had fallen in love with her laughter five years ago, and even if those five years hadn't had as much laughter as Lydia deserved, he loved her all the same.
TThe homes they passed looked like they'd stepped out of the last century but had been renovated to within an inch of their lives. It was a beautiful town, all things considered, with a bay that stretched off into the distance.
As Thomas passed underneath one of the street lamps, he noticed it flickered, almost as if—
"We're off the grid, if that's what yer wonderin'," an older gentleman said as he puttered with potted plants on his porch.
"They're oil-filled?" Thomas asked. "I read about that but didn't think there were any towns that still did that."
"Yep, and we aim to keep it that way," the old-timer looked over his glasses at Thomas, who was still helping Lydia. "Say, that don't look none too good. Got a bad hoof, do ya?"
"Yeah, we were climbing Mary's Peak and got caught—"
"Mighty bad rainstorm swept up that way a couple hours ago," the man interrupted. "Hope you didn't get caught in it."
"Yep!" Lydia exclaimed, standing on one foot. "We sure did."
"Well, you hop right on down to the Inn just there a little further." The man pointed with his pipe. "They'll call a doc for ya, get ye fixed right up."
"Thanks, Mr…?" Thomas said.
"Thistledown." The man ambled off his porch and stuck out his hand. "But ye can call me Ol' Jack." He smiled as he shook each of their hands warmly.
"I'm Thomas, and this is Lydia. We got turned around coming down from the mountain."
"Aye, if ye was on Ol' Mary's Peak and found yer way here, ye ain't turned around, ye practically somersaulted!" Jack laughed, which tapered into a coughing fit.
"You okay, there, Jack?" Thomas asked, patting the man's back.
"Yeh, Ol' Doc says I should lay off'n these." He held up his pipe. "But my pappy smoked 'til he was nearly two hundred and eleven years old."
Thomas glanced at Lydia, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
"Now, let's get you down to the Whispering Inn, Missy. We'll get that foot looked at and ye'll be right as rain."
The old man, Jack, offered his hand as Thomas took Lydia's arm, and they hop-shambled down the road.
As Thomas helped his wife, he noticed that as the lights flickered on around them, they all appeared to be oil-burning lamps, nothing electrical at all. "Do you all use electricity at all?" Thomas asked.
Jack nodded. "Oh, my yes. Got me a 'lectric refrigerator, keeps me beer cold, and got one of them computers also, though I ain't got much use for it none. We just like to keep things simple here, as ye can see. And we don't get many travelers, truth be told."
"Don't think I even saw this on the map of the area," Thomas remarked. "It shows all forest on Google Earth too."
"Aye, yuh," Jack said but apparently nothing more about it.
They got to the Inn, and they both helped Lydia up the stairs. "I feel so helpless," she said.
"Oh, ye ain't helpless, Missy. If I don't miss my guess, and I nary do these days, ye got a bit of the shine on ye, I would say."
"The shine?"
"Aye, there's spirits among us, and sprites, and wee folk." He gave a small tip of his hat. "Don't'cha know."
Thomas opened the front door. He was about to thank Jack, but as he turned around, Jack was nowhere to be seen, just a bit of curling pipe smoke left floating on the breeze.
"Where'd he go?" Thomas asked.
Confused, Lydia turned. "He was right here!"
"Who was right here?" a large, heavy-set woman asked.
"Mr. Thistledown," Lydia replied. "He helped me get here!"
"Oh, I'm sure that old spook is around here somewhere," the woman said with a chuckle. "Here, let me help. You've injured your foot?"
Lydia nodded. "We were on a hike up Mary's Peak, and my foot started hurting terribly. I can't put any weight on it."
"Let's get you inside by the fire," the woman said. "I'm Marjory, Marjory Thomas. I own this Inn."
"Thomas and Lydia Thompson," Thomas said, thanking the innkeeper for her kindness. "Thank you for your hospitality."
"Don't mention it!" Marjory said. "We don't get many visitors, especially young ones like yourselves."
They helped Lydia to a chair by the fire, where Marjory handed her a quilt.
"Oh, thank you!" Lydia exclaimed. "I was freezing!"
"Don't mention it!" Marjory repeated. "We'll get something warm in your stomach, and I'll give Doc Baker a call. He'll be right up to fix you up and get you back on your feet."
"Much appreciated," Thomas said as he took a seat beside Lydia.
A few customers were scattered at tables around the area, and Thomas noticed a reception desk in one corner. The interior seemed far more spacious than the exterior had suggested.
"I would kill for a cup of coffee," Lydia murmured.
"I'll find us some," Thomas reassured her as he stood. "And Thomas, could you see if they have a room available? I'm not up for the hike back to the car."
"Will do, babe," he responded, kissing her forehead and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Thomas approached the reception desk where a young man was polishing an antique bell. The clerk was tall and lanky, with sparse facial hair. "Welcome to The Whispering Inn," he greeted. "I'm David Addington. How may I assist you?"
Thomas cleared his throat. "Could we get a room for the night?"
"Of course! Would you prefer the ground floor or upstairs? A room with a view or without? Smoking or non-smoking?" the clerk inquired.
"Ground floor, with a view, non-smoking, please."
"Perfect," David said, jotting something down in a large register before retrieving a key. "No computer for check-ins?"
"We prefer simplicity here," David replied, handing him the key. "Room eleven, just around the corner, offers a splendid view of Sælic Bay."
Thomas paused at the mention of the word. "Sælic? What does that mean?"
"Sælic," the clerk pronounced with an 'ah' sound and a 'ch' at the end, "in our local dialect, refers to 'willow,' but it actually means 'blessed' or 'fortunate.'"
Thomas nodded, musing quietly about Lydia's translations earlier.
"I beg your pardon?" David looked puzzled.
"Nothing," Thomas dismissed. "Room eleven, right?"
"That's right, Mr. Thompson." The clerk handed over the key along with two fluffy towels. "Do you have any luggage? The bellboy can bring it to your room."
"Just our backpacks," Thomas said, gesturing towards their table. "I'll take them up."
"Anything else to ensure a perfect stay?" David asked.
"How did you know my last name?" Thomas inquired with a frown. "I didn't give it to you."
David's smile was knowing. "Marjory mentioned to assign you to room eleven, the best in the inn."
"And she told you our names?"
The clerk winked. "Just our little secret."
"Of course," Thomas said, accepting the towels and pocketing the key.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Thompson," David called after him.
"Thanks," Thomas replied, walking back to Lydia with a slight shiver.
As he returned, a curious thought struck him: David Addington's canines had seemed unusually long.
Just like a vampire.
The Thirteenth Witch
Chapter Three
by Raine Monday
Lydia watched as Thomas spoke to the hotel clerk. There was something 'off' about the clerk, but she couldn't figure out just what. Before she could identify it, Marjory brought over two bowls of stew. "Here we go, love. I telephoned Dr. Baker, and he'll be over shortly."
"Wow, he makes... uh, inn calls?"
Marjory nodded. "He works only a few houses away. We like to keep things simple here in Willowbrook." She patted Lydia on the shoulder. Strangely, Lydia felt pins and needles where Marjory touched her. "Enjoy your dinner, love."
Lydia blinked. She was so hungry! It felt like she hadn't eaten in days.
"Got us a room," Thomas said a few moments later, setting down the key.
"That's wonderful!" Lydia said, her mouth full, juice running down her chin. She knew she must look frightful, but at the moment, she didn't care.
"Hungry, eh?" Thomas chuckled and took a bite of his stew.
"It's delicious!" Perhaps it was because they were so tired from the long, wet hike, or maybe the food had some magical ingredient, but Lydia couldn't eat it fast enough.
Before long, they both sat back, dabbing their mouths with napkins. The shadows stretched long as the couple ate and ordered seconds of the delicious stew. Lydia felt warm and full, the pain in her foot subsiding as Marjory returned, leading a middle-aged, balding man of about fifty. He had kind eyes and was rather stout.
"Someone was hungry," Marjory said, leading the man who wore a three-piece business suit to their table. "This is Dr. Baker. He can take a look at your foot, dear."
"Samuel Baker," the doctor said, extending his hand first to Thomas, then to Lydia. Lydia shook it, noting how soft and strong his hand seemed. She wondered if he was a surgeon.
"Let's look at that foot," Dr. Baker said, sliding a stool over. Lydia took the hint and set her left foot on the stool. Dr. Baker took out a pair of spectacles, then touched the soaking wet sock. "May I?"
Lydia nodded, embarrassed. The doctor tugged off the sock and examined her foot. He held it tenderly, and Lydia could again feel how soft and gentle he was.
"Any numbness or tingling?" Dr. Baker asked.
Lydia shook her head, staring at her foot. It was strange... it... didn't look like hers.
"Why is it... so wrinkled?" she asked, holding it up to the light.
"May I?" Dr. Baker asked again, indicating her right foot still in its muddy boot.
"I can do it," Thomas said, and he took her shoe in his hands and untied the laces.
"I knew you had a foot fetish, Tommy-Tom," Lydia said.
Thomas carefully eased her right foot out of the boot, then pulled off the soaked sock and set it next to her other foot.
Lydia gasped. "That... can't be possible, can it?"
They all stared at her feet. The right foot, the one that didn't hurt, looked normal. Of course, she needed to cut her toenails, but aside from a few callouses on the heel, it appeared normal. Her left foot, however, did not look normal. It was wrinkled, and veins stood out in stark relief. She also had blue nail polish on those toes—nail polish Lydia had never purchased, owned, or applied.
"Bunions," Dr. Baker said. "I'm afraid you're developing bunions."
"Surely you can see that isn't my foot," Lydia protested. "It has blue toenail polish, for God's sake!"
"It's also smaller," Thomas said, placing a hand on her right foot. The toes of her left foot didn't come close to matching it. "I think it's at least two sizes smaller."
Lydia felt a tightening in her stomach. This wasn't right; this couldn't be right!
"Doctor?" Lydia said, looking up at him.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's simply bunions. I'll give you some medication to ease some of the pain and write a prescription for orthotics."
"But you can see, can't you?" Thomas said, his voice rising.
Lydia shook her head. This couldn't be happening. "Look, maybe it'll be okay in the morning. Maybe it's just from being in the water; you know how skin gets wrinkly after being in the water, right?"
"Exactly," Dr. Baker said, picking up his black bag and handing her a prescription. "Take this to the shoe store on 5th. They'll fit you with an orthotic that will reduce the stress on those bones."
And with that, the doctor left the room.
***
"We need to get out of here," Thomas said. "I'll grab our packs and meet you by the door."
Lydia nodded, glancing outside. During their meal, dusk had turned to night. People walked the streets of Willowbrook, smiling and happy. It was like a town from a different era. People even dressed differently; the women wore dresses, the men in more formal attire. She wondered if they'd stepped through some kind of time portal.
As she waited, she sat down, wanting to pull on her sock and get her foot back in her boot. She could see her changed foot. It felt... well, the same, though the skin felt wrinkled. She ran her fingers over the veins along the top of her foot and stopped.
Her right hand... the index fingernail had extended a bit and had taken on the same nail polish as her foot.
"No, no, no, no, this can't be happening!" She held up her hands, looking at her palms and then the backs. Sure enough, her right hand had slightly different coloration, and as she watched, the nails were slowly extending. Quickly, she pulled on her sock and attempted to stick her foot into her boot. She was rushing, though, so of course, her foot didn't slip in properly. She had to take it out again, loosen the laces, and place it in. The foot slid in easily, a bit too easily.
It was too small for the boot.
"Dammit!" she said, pulling the laces as tight as she could. She quickly tied her shoes, fighting a bit with her changing hand as the nails didn't want to cooperate.
Where was Thomas? She looked up, hoping to see him running back to her with their packs, but he appeared to be in an argument with the clerk or something.
"Leave them!" she called to Thomas, who nodded and rolled his eyes but then quickly walked back to her.
"Babe," she said, "It's still happening." She held up her altered right hand. The beginnings of veins could be seen on the back of her hand, and as they watched, the skin began to wrinkle.
"Can you walk?" Thomas asked.
"I think so!" Lydia said as they made their way to the door. Just as they were about to open the huge oaken front door, Marjory stepped out.
"Leaving so soon?" she said, a wide smile on her face.
"Please let us pass!" Lydia said. "We don't want... whatever is going on here."
"The boy can go," Marjory said. "He doesn't have any shine to him. The only reason he's here at all, love, is because you do."
"Well, I don't want whatever it is you're selling," Lydia said. She held up her still-changing hand. "What is happening to me?"
Marjory nodded. "I knew from the moment I saw you that you belonged here in Sælicbrook. Don't fret, dear; the Emergence happens much quicker if you allow it."
"No!" Thomas shouted. "We're out!" Thomas attempted to shove his way through, but Marjory was as immovable as a post.
She sighed. "They always resist, don't they, David?"
From behind them, the 'clerk' nodded. He no longer looked like a clerk but wore a black cape, and his hair had darkened. He gave them a grin, and two long canines extended.
"Indeed, Miss."
Marjory sighed. "Take them to their room, if you would, dear?"
With a flicker of motion, David spun Thomas and took his face in his palms.
"Thomas!" Lydia screamed. She feared he would snap his neck.
"Sleep," David said, and Thomas slumped. Effortlessly, David took Thomas by the collar and turned to Lydia.
"No!" Lydia said, trying to turn away. "I—"
"Sleep," David intoned, and something about the way he said it echoed in her brain. Her lids slid shut, even though something inside her writhed against his gaze, something that forced her feet not to move, her body not to collapse.
"Ahh, a strong one," Marjory said. "I knew it."
David whispered then, directly in Lydia's ear. "Slllleeeeeeeeppp."
And that was all Lydia remembered.
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The Thirteenth Witch
Chapter Four
By Raine Monday
Lydia dreamed.
Stone arches and the walls of a castle stretched around her, torchlight flickering on marbled hallways. A palace? Why was she in a palace?
She reached out to one of the walls and felt the rough texture of the stone. She remembered the whispered conversations about her lineage, the blood of Eburovices, that flowed through her veins, a people conquered long before by the Romans, and now, she, a conquerer's daughter, faced her form of conquest.
"Esmerelda!" the voice echoed from below, the stone staircase stretching downwards. That voice, Her Father's voice, the voice of a man who made other kings quiver in their robes and made her heart race at what he wanted from her.
Her heart pounded in a wild rhythm as she tried to catch her breath. She placed a hand on her heart, attempting to slow her breathing, make it shallow, the corseted gown she wore as much a hindrance as a cage.
What he wanted, he would never have. A marriage to a Norman Noble, perhaps, or something worse. She wouldn't allow that to happen, couldn't let that to happen. Not just because she didn't want to marry an old man but because of what it would mean to untold thousands of people who would die—
"Esmerelda!" the voice called again, closer this time. "Stop running, and speak to me!"
Lydia dashed up the stair. If she could get to her chambers, perhaps Ril, the court wizard, could somehow help her escape this fate. He was her staunch ally and advisor, and he would help her to—
"Lydia?" A soft voice came from beside her. Who's voice was that? Not her father's, not William the Conquerer, no, it belonged to another man, a kinder man, a man with laughing eyes and a neck beard she liked to tug when they—
"Babe, are you awake?"
Lydia blinked the dream away. "Tommy-Tom?"
"Yes, hon." He caressed her face softly. "That must have been some dream."
Sitting up, she looked around the room. Sitting up, she looked around the quaint room that held an old-world charm unique to The Whispering Inn. Heavy oak beams lined the ceiling, evidence of the inn's ancient architecture, while the walls were adorned with warm, handwoven tapestries depicting scenes of lush forests and mythical creatures, a nod to the town's mystical nexus. The furniture was of dark mahogany, polished to a soft sheen, with a four-poster bed at the center, its posts carved with intricate patterns of leaves and vines, and draped with sheer, gossamer curtains. A rustic, yet elegantly carved wardrobe stood in one corner, next to a fireplace where the remains of a log still smoldered, filling the room with a faint, comforting scent of woodsmoke. The settee by the fireplace was upholstered in a rich emerald velvet, looking out through a leaded glass window that revealed the fog-shrouded world of Willowbrook outside. Every detail of the room, from the plush, forest-green carpeting to the soft, golden glow of the oil lamps, whispered of an era long past and a world steeped in enchantment.
Lydia put her hand to her head. "What time is it?"
Thomas got up and pulled the curtains back. "Looks like early morning. Hard to tell though, there's still fog."
Lydia wiped her eyes, and scratched the side of her face. "Oww, Jesus!"
She looked down at her hands. The left appeared normal, but the right…
Her extended nails were painted a dark blue, and each curved a bit like a claw. The hand was wrinkled and old, with veins and color spots stretched across the surface. The knuckles bulged as if she'd suffered for years with arthritis. Heavy rings adorned each finger in different colors, amethyst, ruby and jade. The wrinkled skin extended up her forearm until it mixed in with her usual, unblemished, unveined, unwrinkled skin about halfway up.
"Oh my god!" she cried, and stood up, wanting to see herself in the mirror. She almost fell over though, because there was something not just wrong with her left foot, but her leg also seemed to be affected. She pulled up her sweats pantleg, and found her lower leg looked hideous, the skin wrinkled, veins etched from her calf downward. She pulled the sheet off her left leg, and found it unaffected.
Lydia looked up at Thomas. "We have to get out of here!"
Thomas nodded, "I know. But the door is locked. I also tried to break the window, but no luck."
Lydia stood, but it was quite obvious her left leg was a few inches shorter than her right. "I'm turning into a monster!"
Thomas shook his head. "No. I refuse to believe that." He took her hands in his own. "We'll get through this Lydia, no matter what it means."
She nodded, tears spilling from her eyes.
Someone knocked at the door, and David the Vampire entered. He carried two trays with lids. "Breakfast!"
"Why are we here?" Thomas said. "We want to leave, right this minute!"
"I'm sorry, but that isn't possible."
"What do you mean?" Lydia said.
"I think I can answer that," A woman said, stepping into the room.
The woman carried herself with the regal grace of a bygone era, her stature tall and commanding despite her advanced years. She was attired in a flowing dress of marigold silk that draped elegantly around her frame, the fabric catching the light with every subtle movement, as if woven with threads of sunshine. Her white hair, the color of moonlit snow, was styled in an elaborate bun atop her head, not a strand out of place, each lock sculpted like a work of art. Around her neck hung a necklace of topaz and citrine, each gemstone cut to perfection, complementing the warm hues of her dress and casting a soft glow against her skin. Her fingers were adorned with rings that matched her attire, with bands of gold encircling delicate fingers still surprisingly nimble and strong. Her eyes, a striking shade of pale azure, held within them the spark of undimmed intelligence and the fierceness of a spirit untouched by time, surveying the world with an air of wisdom and a hint of playful mischief.
"I'm Agatha Wainwright, and we have been waiting a very long time for you, dear." She shut the door, and stood in front of them.
Even though Agatha was a few inches shorter than she, Lydia felt the weight of her gaze as she took in her changed hand and foot.
"It's always a bit different," she said, sitting on a stool. "Please, eat your breakfast, and I can tell you what is happening."
Thomas shrugged, and glanced at Lydia, who nodded. She sat on a chair, Thomas had pulled over for her, and they both took the covers off their meal.
Eggs, bacon and potatoes all steamed aromatically into the room. Lydia found she was ravenous again, and began to eat heaping mouthfuls. At first she tried to eat with her non-changed left hand, but then gave up and ate with her right.
"The Emergence steals quite a bit of energy as it passes through you," Agatha said. "You'll find yourself very tired with little to no exertion and nearly constantly hungry."
"What's happening to her?" Thomas said. "Her hand, and foot…"
"Let's first talk a bit about Sælicbrook, or Willowbrook as we've named it."
Lydia nodded, still eating.
"Sælicbrook exists on a plane of reality slightly different from your own. I'm sure you sensed it as you entered town.
"It was a bit misty," Lydia said, trying not to speak with her mouth full.
Agatha cleared her throat gently, the timbre of her voice holding the gravity of ancient secrets and the warmth of a seasoned educator. She peered at the two newcomers through her light blue eyes, which sparkled with an inner light that seemed to reflect the wisdom of the ages.
"Children," she began, her voice imbued with the cadence of a well-practiced lecture, "you find yourselves in Sælicbrook, a place of much more significance than you can presently comprehend. This is not merely a stopping point, but the very heart of the cosmos' intricacies—a Nexus."
She gestured gracefully with her hands, adorned with jewelry that seemed to glow with an inner flame. "Imagine the universe as a vast tapestry, with threads that represent the myriad realms of existence. Sælicbrook lies at the crux of it all, binding these threads together. It is here that the worlds of magic and the mundane, of spirit and science, meet and mingle in silent congress."
Her eyes swept over the quaint, cobblestone streets visible from the window, then back to her audience. "Our town is unique, an architectural mosaic from ages and realms beyond. It resonates with the potential of creation, a place where every stone and every wisp of wind hums with the power of the planes."
Agatha straightened her posture, her yellow dress rustling softly. "We, the Guardians of this Nexus, my Coven, maintain the balance and the continuity of passage. We are the silent sentinels, the shepherds of souls across the boundless stretches of existence."
A brief smile flickered across her face, softening the sternness of her demeanor. "It is no common occurrence for travelers from your realm to cross into ours unguided. To arrive here speaks to a spiritual potency within you—an energy, perhaps long dormant, now awakening."
Leaning forward, she looked at them with a profound earnestness. "Your presence here is no accident, my dears. It is a confluence of destiny and hidden power. Welcome to Sælicbrook, the crossroads of worlds. Here, you will find your true purpose."
"I did notice it wasn't on Google Maps," Thomas said.
Agatha gave a wry grin. "Yes, we do a lot to obfuscate our position here in your physical reality from the science-based devices and such. In fact, we have a whole legion of elves that do nothing but blind science devices from capturing any of our presence. We need to maintain our presence, but we definitely don't want anyone from your realm attempting to cross over, unless they have a reason.
"We don't have a reason," Lydia said. "And we'd like to go back, please." Lydia held up her changed arm. "I don't know what's happening to me, but we want none of this."
Agatha nodded, sighing. "Well, Thomas can go back, of course, but you, my dear, we need you desperately, I'm afraid. Sælicbrook recognized that and has imposed a geas upon you that I'm sorry to say wouldn't be resolved even if you were to travel back to your realm.
"A geas?" Lydia said. "So this is just an illusion?"
"Oh, no, my dear. You are literally being rewritten from the ground up. We aren't certain why certain individuals like you are rewritten in so dramatic a fashion, but our needs are great, I must say."
Lydia felt tremors in her stomach at the thought of being rewritten. "What do you mean?"
Agatha sighed. "It means we are under attack, I'm afraid. And you are the only person who can save us."
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The Thirteenth Witch
Chapter Five: The Seduction of Magic
by Raine Monday
"What could I do?" Lydia said. "I don't know shit about fuck!"
She couldn't bear to be seated any longer. She needed out of the room, out of this town, out of here! She got up and stumbled due to the difference in her leg lengths.
"Please, dear, sit," Agatha waved her arms, and Lydia found herself again in the chair. "It does your body no good to try to tramp around in that maladjusted position."
"Why can't we just leave!" Lydia said, feeling her temper rising. "This is insane! I can't be of any help to you!"
"At least let me give you this," Agatha said, holding out a shoe. It had at least a three-inch heel.
"You want me to wear that?" Lydia said.
"Yes, it will make up for the height difference until your left leg follows suit."
Lydia nodded and took the shoe. She hated wearing heels, but it was a little ridiculous trying to walk. Surprisingly, the heeled shoe fit like a glove. "Oh, that's much better!"
Lydia walked back and forth. There was almost no difference, and it felt so much better.
"Now, let me tell you what we face, and why you are so important," Agatha said.
Lydia nodded, sitting down, and staring at her hands.
"We fight a nearly constant battle against creatures from beyond the cosmos. Creatures that know only hunger for food, for souls, for energy. These beings wish to come into our nexus of planes and consume everything in their path. It would be anathema to our realms if any such being were to come across. Here in Sælicbrook, we've formed an alliance that requires thirteen members in order to be at full power against such an incursion as the one we are facing."
"And what, you need us to help somehow?" Thomas said.
Agatha pointed at Lydia. "We need her, to put a point on it, child. You, ah…complicate things."
"How so?" Lydia said.
Agatha took Lydia's right hand in hers. She turned it over and peered at it. Agatha's hand looked similar in age and appearance, though Lydia's new hand had even more wrinkles and age spots.
"The magic of Sælicbrook is adjusting you to fit this new reality, dear. As you can see, you are becoming like me. Sælicbrook has chosen you to join my coven, as our thirteenth member, to hold the gateway against the incoming incursion from Nyarlathotep, an eldritch horror of such power you couldn't fathom the depths of its avarice."
Agatha took Lydia's other hand, and as if on cue, wrinkles started to appear on it as well.
"We are the Witches of Wildwood, dear. And you have been chosen to become our thirteenth witch."
Lydia could only watch, horrified, as her left hand twisted and shriveled to match her right. The same gold rings appeared on her right as well, until she had a matched set.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
Agatha took both her changed hands in her own. "Close your eyes, child."
Sighing, Lydia did as instructed.
She felt a tingling then, that began in her toes and swept up her body. It filled her with the most amazing feeling she'd ever experienced. Like the first time she'd eaten ice cream, or the first time she'd gone swimming. It was like that, but ten times more enjoyable, this feeling. It was raw, natural.
"Open thine eye," someone murmured in her mind.
Somehow, she knew just how to do that. She opened her Eye, and the world came into being around her. She could see Agatha, standing there with her perfect hair and dress, eyes closed and intent on their session. She could see Thomas, standing confused. A dark and angry look was on his face, and she could see his heart was filled with hate and fear at the situation they were in. Effortlessly, she found herself able to see into the hallway beyond, through the doorway, and out onto the street. She could see Marjory and realized the image of the InnKeeper was merely an illusion. Another heart beat beneath her placid exterior, one similar to David the clerk, but older, much older. Marjory was a being of great power and influence.
She continued her sensory session outward, feeling the town around them. Beings noticed her looking and smiled at her, some with pure intent, some with hunger in their eyes. They would have to be careful in this town; not everything was as it seemed.
An immense tree filled the square nearby, and Lydia could see sparkles streaming from the fronds of the tree. It was literally a tree made of magic, of power. She could see the roots that delved into the earth deep below. So deep even with this new sight she couldn't see the bottom. And beyond that, portals stood opening in different directions. In fact, she could—
"Stop!" Agatha said, in a loud voice.
Abruptly, Lydia was back in the room, and she blinked, startled. "I'm sorry?"
Agatha smiled. "You were going a bit too far, dear. We'll speak on those another time."
Lydia nodded. The portals had felt like giant vacuum cleaners. She realized she and Thomas had come through one of those portals. Into this realm between realms.
She yawned, suddenly very tired.
"You've made excellent progress, child," Agatha said, smiling. "I knew you were the one the minute you stepped foot in Sælicbrook."
Lydia smiled. "Mmmm."
"Get some rest now. Eat when you can. Your Emergence will take time, dear. We'll find you and your… ah… partner, a home tomorrow. Does that sound nice?"
Lydia nodded. She liked the sound of that very much. "Alright."
"Alright?" Thomas said. "Nothing about this is right!"
Agatha strode from the room. "Don't be impertinent, dear. You are not the one we want, but we do have ways of… bringing you into the fold, too. Don't test my patience."
Thomas frowned as Agatha strode out of the room.
"I don't trust her," Thomas said.
Lydia nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open. "Help me with my clothes, darling?" she said. "I'm so tired…"
"Of course."
As Thomas helped her out of her clothes and into the sheets, she pulled him to her.
"Mmm, something about that encounter… has left me feeling very languid and sensual."
"I feel like we should try to find a way to fight this, Lyds. None of this feels right."
"Shhh," she put a blue-taloned finger to his lips. Then she leaned in and kissed him hungrily.
Thomas responded, kissing her deeply.
As they slid together, sensually enjoying each other, Lydia could feel that amazing feeling inside her, calling her. Almost unconsciously, she allowed it to slide over them, letting the little magical tendrils heighten their passion, enabling them to move together with such rhythm and sensuality they'd never known before, bringing them both to climaxes simultaneously that had them gasping and clinging to each other.
She could get used to this, she thought as sleep finally claimed her.