When a mountain downpour forces Lydia and Thomas Thompson into a cavern's shadowy embrace, Lydia's touch upon ancient runic inscriptions awakens her latent power and identity. As they emerge to find the enigmatic town of Sælicbrook—a nexus of realms and magic—Lydia is transformed into her destiny as its guardian. But as the cosmic entity Nyarlathotep stirs, intent on unraveling the threads of reality, will Lydia's newfound power be enough to stand against an eldritch horror bent on devouring all? The battle for existence looms, and only the guardians of Sælicbrook can safeguard the world from the impending darkness. Will they triumph, or will everything they know be consumed by the infinite appetite of the Crawling Chaos?

When a mountain downpour forces Lydia and Thomas Thompson into a cavern's shadowy embrace, Lydia's touch upon ancient runic inscriptions awakens her latent power and identity. As they emerge to find the enigmatic town of Sælicbrook—a nexus of realms and magic—Lydia is transformed into her destiny as its guardian. But as the cosmic entity Nyarlathotep stirs, intent on unraveling the threads of reality, will Lydia's newfound power be enough to stand against an eldritch horror bent on devouring all? The battle for existence looms, and only the guardians of Sælicbrook can safeguard the world from the impending darkness. Will they triumph, or will everything they know be consumed by the infinite appetite of the Crawling Chaos?

When a mountain downpour forces Lydia and Thomas Thompson into a cavern's shadowy embrace, Lydia's touch upon ancient runic inscriptions awakens her latent power and identity. As they emerge to find the enigmatic town of Sælicbrook—a nexus of realms and magic—Lydia is transformed into her destiny as its guardian. But as the cosmic entity Nyarlathotep stirs, intent on unraveling the threads of reality, will Lydia's newfound power be enough to stand against an eldritch horror bent on devouring all? The battle for existence looms, and only the guardians of Sælicbrook can safeguard the world from the impending darkness. Will they triumph, or will everything they know be consumed by the infinite appetite of the Crawling Chaos?

The Witcher Series is copyright by Andrzej Sapkowski. This story is licensed under creative commons and derivative non-commercial fiction.

The next period of my life lasted…well…an unfathomably long time.

Just a few highlights:

“And now,” April flourished Desdemonia’s hands, “Comes the moment we’ve all been waiting for.” She beckoned to me.

I took a deep breath. This was it.

If I took that step forward, I could be leaving humanity behind forever, doomed to an eternity, or perhaps, many eternities as another being entirely. Something so completely alien, even aliens from another galaxy would be more familiar. In exchange for what?

I saw the scowling faces of my parents. I was happy they were there. Hopefully, they would make sure there was no funny business.

(This chapter was previously posted as Chapter 29)

Jeff Farnum picked me up at seven AM right on schedule. I grabbed my backpack, and jumped into the passenger side.

“You look like shit,” he said.

“Yeah.” I yawned. I felt like I hadn’t slept in days. I ran a hand over my face and my hair, trying to wake up.

“That was a great game last night.”

“Thanks.”

And this is the real chapter thirty. Apologies again for the mistake.

As I pulled away from Mr. Stewart’s house, I had a conundrum. April had texted me several more times, but I wanted to go home and compare notes with Mom and Dad regarding the new information Mr. Stewart had given me.

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking, and the Who was coming. I didn’t know how much longer I might have in this dimension, or reality, or whatever, and I wanted to find out as much as I could before I was pulled back into the clutches of Desdemonia’s mind.

(Two chapters today so we can get to the end of this)

The next morning, I made a phone call to the hair-dressers. “Bonnie!” I said, in my most enthusiastic voice. “This is Desdemonia Landcaster. I’d like to book some time with you today.”

“Oh, Hi Ms. Landcaster! Sure, I have some time today. What do you want done?”

I put a hand to my head. “Oh, a brighten up, I think. What time can you work me in?”

“One o-clock work for you?” Bonnie said.

“That would be perfect, dear.”

“Just highlights like last time, or full color?”

I found Dad’s keys to his BMW, and I drove up to the Landcaster’s. It was silly to remain in that house when a perfectly serviceable wardrobe was available. I went into Desde…my bedroom and shucked off the horrid robe. How had I allowed myself to stoop so low?

Sighing, I spread cold cream over my face, and moistened then set my hair in rollers. The old motions felt both familiar and strange. I donned one of my black silk robes, then relaxed on the divan where I mixed up an Irish coffee.

I took a bath in the downstairs bathroom. Usually this was reserved for guests, but since Dad was…gone, and I was stuck in this older woman’s body, I decided to relocate to the guest room. It felt strange being in my old room anyway.

Mom had decked out the guest bathroom with bath bombs, robes, and candles. I filled the tub, dropped in a lavender bath bomb, then lit a few candles. Removing my clothes, I stared into the mirror.

We went into the living room and I told them everything. Mom was a Wytch in her own right, able to know the healing properties of any herb, tree, berry, vegetable, stalk — any growing thing. She healed the sick or wounded, provided relief to the infirm, and, well, grew, sold and distributed marijuana and psychedelics on the side. My father and she made a great team with Maggie Atkins sliding in with honey and James Atkins using the hammer.

I swam a few laps, then made April’s mint Julep. There was some fresh fruit already laid out along with some boiled eggs that I wolfed down.

About an hour later, April stepped out of the house and onto the porch.

She’d styled her gray streaked dark hair in one of Desdemonia’s twisted updos, and layered on the makeup but not quite as thick as her mother. She wore a wraparound dress with sensible sandals, and huge sunglasses.

“April?” I said.

She took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said.

‘April,’ wore a gingham dress. Her hair had been tamed into a long braid, similar to the one I’d worn yesterday. She wore no makeup, and had tennis shoes that looked a bit too large.

‘Ernest’ had fared a bit better in the clothing department. He wore a brown suit with a white shirt. His teeth looked less yellow than they had yesterday and he’d shaved both his head and his face.

“Desdemonia,” Ernest said upon seeing me. “My old Nemesis.”

“Oh, cut the crap. Everyone here knows what happened,” I said.

They got me to the house and up the stairs.

“Um,” Mitzy said softly. “Hon, you need to shower before getting in bed.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“You have stuff in your hair, and you need to remove your makeup. Otherwise your skin will suffer.”

I sighed and nodded. I needed to use the restroom anyway.

She helped me into the restroom. “Do you need help removing your clothes?”

I shook my head. “I can take care of it.”

My dad wore a three-piece suit and looked like he’d just stepped out of a board room. He owned several businesses in town and had an office over the bank where he’d worked for two decades before becoming an entrepreneur.

He had slicked dark hair, icy blue eyes, and silver cuff links. I think he wore them just to dare everyone on the Magical Council meetings.

“I wasn’t aware the council was taking a field trip today?”

“That’s why I alerted you to our quorum status,” Pete Vargas said. “So you didn’t feel left out.”

“It’s called The Who.” Elder Langmore sat in the pergola in High Valley Recreational Facility which was adjacent to High Valley High School’s Baseball Fields. They were dual purpose with the high school using the fields and having priority, but also used for little league during the off season. The pergola was in a small park-like area south from the ballfield, nestled in a small wooded area that featured a pond and walking path.

For a brief moment, I felt at peace for the first time all day. We sat there, waiting for the bell to ring, holding hands.

“You know, I never wanted any of this to happen,” she said, breaking the spell.

“And you know that Mitzy and I are just friends. I don’t know why you freaked out that day.”

She pulled her hand away. “I know, Seth. But what I’m becoming, who I’m becoming…you wouldn’t like. It was necessary to extricate myself from our relationship.”

“You mean the gothic lolita bitch witch?”

She chuckled at that. “I take it you don’t like the look.”

Walking into the quad, I quickly located April amongst her little group. She was holding court with about six other girls, and had her back turned to me.

Shaking my head, I approached her. I’d finally gotten the hang of the low heels she forced me to wear. It took a bit of care to make sure I didn’t step on the swishing full dress she’d wrapped around my frame. You had to kind of kick the dress out of the way, before taking a step or you risked a tumble, and I was humiliated enough already without adding that little cherry on the sundae.

My next class, luckily, was study-hall. Mr. Davis, the instructor, could care less that I was almost fifteen minutes tardy.

“I was talking to Mr. Stewart about an assignment.”

Davis glanced up from his EyPad, then shook his head as if he was seeing a mirage. “What the hell?”

“What?” then my hair sorta fell forward a bit. “Oh, yeah. I’m April’s Fool, today.”

He laughed. “Looks good on you, kid.”

“Hah. Thanks.” I went and found an empty seat.

Mitzy Butterfly got up and moved seats, as did Jeff Farnum.

“So?” Mitzy said.

When Robert’s wife’s body is stolen, Robert must discover where and who she is and get her body back. But can he succeed when Exmuritious Forrester, the CEO and owner of Transmigration Studios, decides to stop him? Who can Robert trust, when anyone could be anyone?

Chapter Three

I made it to my Advanced Placement United States History class just as the tardy bell rang. Miss Minnick, my teacher, followed me with her eyes as she hovered above her cushion at the front of the room. Miss Minnick was an infernal, and she had tiny demon horns above her eyebrows, and a wispy angular tail. Her class always smelled faintly of brimstone.

"What do we say about being on time to class, children?"

I winced.

The class recited: "To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to write an essay!"

The first day of April always meant the same thing. April Lancaster, the most popular girl at school, would pick her 'fool' and make them follow her around carrying her books, pulling out her chair, bringing her lunch or whatever else April wanted them to do.

It didn't stop there. April was also a witch.

When Robert’s wife’s body is stolen, Robert must discover where and who she is and get her body back. But can he succeed when Exmuritious Forrester, the CEO and owner of Transmigration Studios, decides to stop him? Who can Robert trust, when anyone could be anyone?