Far, far from the shining kingdom of Widowwood, away from the safe confines of the Harmony Valley, past the thick expanses of the Blackfire Forest, there was a small, almost insignificant tower. A simple, two-level structure, which, unbeknownst to anyone in the kingdom or the rest of the land around it, held the impending apocalypse of this nation. All one would find inside was a single woman.
At one time, she’d been beautiful. While it was a far cry to call her ugly, even today, it was very evident that life had been hard for her. Lydia was a tall, thin woman with exceptionally pale skin, enhanced by exceptionally black and unkempt hair. She wore homely rags which hid much of her form, not that she felt any need to display it. She was an outcast, an exile, and all that mattered to her was her work. She toiled ceaselessly over blackened tombs and ancient elixirs, not stopping to eat, sleep, or bathe. She was so, so close…
“So close,” She whispered to herself. “And I will show all of them. They feared the black arts, and they were right to do so. That fool king should have taken my aid when I offered it…”
Her mind drifted back to the time, a decade earlier, when she’d been a welcome member of the king’s counsel, one of the most trusted mages in all the land. She’d been intrigued by the power of evil magic, wondering if, despite its devilish origins, it couldn’t be put to use for the good of the kingdom. The king had refused her request, but she persisted, studying it in secret regardless.
In retrospect, this may have been a mistake. Her studies discovered, she was brought before the royal court, to explain her actions. She admitted to herself that calling her judges ‘small-minded fools’ may not have been the best defense, but if they couldn’t grasp the glory of her work, she saw no reason to endear herself to them.
And thus she was banished, which may have been the gravest mistake the court could have made. For then, she had absolutely no distractions. She had nothing to do but continue her studies, which had changed dramatically. No longer was she content to simply try to aid the kingdom. Now, her only goal, for the past ten years, was to find the best possible way to aid herself. And tonight, her work would be done.
“In the light of the new moon, my ascension will begin,” she whispered, pouring a silver elixir over the polished blade of an ancient dagger. She was ready to make the final step, to take power untold. At midnight on the eve of the new moon, she would gain the ultimate power she sought. But she needed to prepare her body to receive it, first. Thus, this ritual. Speaking a chant in a long-dead language that most likely should have remained dead, she thrust the dagger into her chest.
The pain was overwhelming, but only for a moment, before it crossed the thin line into pleasure. Having not been with a lover in ages, Lydia was surprised, and a bit embarrassed, at how good she felt. She moaned, knees buckling, even as the spell worked its magic, revitalizing her body. Her hair became thicker, luscious. Her skin became a stunning alabaster, and her chest and buttocks inflated somewhat. She let her rags fall to the ground, unhindered by modesty. A small pain erupted in her forehead, as two small hors protruded slightly. When her eyes opened, again, they were a brilliant crimson.
She pulled the blade from her chest, and the wound closed perfectly. Lydia chuckled softly; she could feel the demonic energies flowing through her, just waiting for the new moon to infuse her completely. Rubbing her hands over her new body, she breathed heavily, entranced by the new tactile sensations. On a whim, she grabbed a small potted plant off the shelf, grasping it desperately between her fingers.
The plant withered and died at her touch, its life force transferred into her. She purred; this felt good. All of it did. She didn’t notice, nor care, that she was slightly taller after her unorthodox snack. With only a few hours until midnight, she wanted to make certain she made the most of her new self.
What is Lydia's next move?
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