Part II Chapter 12 (Patreon)

Be þǣm Ēgesan ond þǣm Slæpendan Ymbhwyrftan

On þone þēostor wefan stearre and sceadu, þǣr sē slǣflēac biþ þynne swā wundorweb, þǣr licgaþ se Ēgesa—swīgende weard and forboden gong to þǣm Storme of þǣm Ūtanweardan. Hit stent, nā swā bēorh stīð, ac swā swefn dēop and swefn geworht, þǣr sē Ōþerwīse wæcceþ mid ēagum steorranleohtes and gedwolan.

Se Ēgesa is þæt unsungen Hearpe, his snēad strungon mid þā syllicum þrǣdum sōþes, humiende wīsas ne cūðe for mortlicum ēarum. His lēoþ, gyf hit æfre weaxaþ, wǣre þæs wīgbeddes cīge to þām Dwellerum þæs In-betwīn, styriende þā strengas þæs Ūterlican Þēostran.

Hlyste nū to þǣre tǣlinge þæs Weofodwyrhtan ond þǣm Wæccendan Þēostran:

*Translated Text

Of the Aegis and the Slumbering Chaos

In the dusken weave of star and shadow, where the veil grows thin as gossamer, there lies the Aegis—silent sentinel and forbidden passage to the Tempest of the Outside. It stands, not as a fortress tall, but as a slumber deep and dream-wrought, where the Otherness watches with eyes of starlight and void.

This Aegis is the unsung Lyre, its chords strung with the silken threads of reality, humming tunes not meant for mortal ears. Its melody, should it ever rise, would be the siren's call to the Dwellers of the In-between, stirring the currents of the Outer Dark.

Hearken now to the tale of the Weaver and the Waking Dark:

Chapter Twelve: Joe

JoAnna

The next few weeks, Thomas got into a routine. Up before dawn to take a light jog around the small town. Light aerobic exercise in his workshop/shed, in for breakfast with Esmerelda where they talked about the days events, then out into his workshop for woodworking. Esmerelda was usually with the Coven until dusk, then they'd have dinner, and late night talk/TV with Esmerelda on the sofa before heading to bed.

Life with a burgeoning new witch was never boring, he could at least say that. Apparently, her specialty was transmutation, transformation and illusion magic. It was not as easy at it sounded, however, and led to some interesting circumstances. For example, she was starting with inanimate objects, attempting simple transmutations like water into wine, lead into gold, those kinds of things. However, due to her impatient nature, Esmerelda's transmutations usually involved some kind of minor explosion, eruption, or other kind of malady, that would leave her muttering in french.

He finished dressing in his workout clothes, and was running a comb through his reddish-brown thick hair when Esmerelda called to him from the bed.

"You are going to zee jogging?" she said. Something about that heavy accent always made him cringe a little, especially now that her voice had that rusty can opener pitch that came with her new body.

"Yes, babe. I'm going running."

"Can you pick up croissant on way back? A duex?"

"Sure honey." She had come to favor the croissants from the Willowbrook Bakery which was next to the Tree of Life in main square.

"Merci," she said, and rolled over.

He liked to pester her in the mornings. So he walked over, and leaned down, kissing her cheek several times. "Muah muah muah muah muah."

"Non, no, no Merde!" she said, pushing him away, annoyed.

He chuckled, and kissed her again anyway.

Starting his loop, he dug out an actual walkman and plugged the earbuds in his ears. Apparently, a delivery truck came and went from Eugene twice a week and you could order electronic devices. Since the internet didn't work, he'd ordered CDs and the player, and was happy when it finally arrived.

He put on his mix CD of classic rock, and started jogging.

Half a mile into his run, the enormous Tree of Life stood with the cluster of downtown shops. He slowed down, and stopped, taking in the grandeur of Sælic Bay, and the few ships that dotted the water. Apparently, there were sea portals as well as land portals. He hadn't figured all of it out, but he'd learned from—

"Hey man," a soft voice said from the tree. Joe the wood nymph peeled herself off, and her body and skin faded into normal earth human. Albeit naked normal earth human.

He'd learned that Joe was from Seattle and had actually been a man before getting crosswise with a few of the town's Aes Sidhe and been turned into a Sidhe himself and remade into a gorgeous wood nymph. She had long flowing sunflower hair, bright green eyes, and exaggerated dimensions.

"Hey Joe," Thomas said. Aside from the, well, naked gorgeous sidhe wood nymph, thing, Joe was actually a nice person and they'd become friends.

"She want you to get croissants again?"

"Yeah, guess she's become a bit addicted to them."

Joe sighed. "Wish I could eat croissants, man. Hell, wish I could eat anything. I could sure go for a nice t-bone steak."

"What, they don't let you eat, if you're a wood nymph?"

"Nah, it's not a permission thing." She held out her arm above her head. "I might look like a goddess, but I don't really even have a heart, lungs, or other human systems. Although my reproductive system is certainly intact, which makes for some damned embarrassing situations."

"Wait, you can get pregnant? Like that?"

"Can and have." She patted her toned tummy. "I tell ya, if men could give birth, there'd be an entire revolution in women's rights back home. It is not fun, let me tell ya."

"How many…uh…kids do you have?"

She sighed. "Well, I had one that I was the father of, and three that I'm the mother."

"And are they…wood nymphs?"

She gave a nod. "One of them is a nymph, one is a faun. And one we don't talk about."

"Oh?"

She shook her head, her soft curls dancing around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, man." Thomas said.

"S'okay. We all have crosses to bear."

"Especially here," Thomas said, thinking of Esmerelda.

"How are things going with you two anyway? She still talking like a French Maid?"

Thomas sighed. "Yeah, that's the part I don't understand. I mean, she was definitely Lydia. All the memories, personality, etc. But why would she be French now? I mean, I recognize Esmerelda came from France, but—"

"Yeah, sorry, bud. I don't know a lot about the Coven, other than they are incredibly powerful."

"Do you an Agatha ever—"

"Fuck?" she smiled. Thomas liked how she smiled, but he had to put that out of his mind. "Yeah, we did it a few times. I can fuck anything, literally, anything, anyone, anywhere. Part of the whole 'nymph' thing I guess." She shrugged her delectable shoulders.

Thomas cleared his throat. "But you guys don't anymore?"

"Eh, after the years passed with her as the head of the Coven, and me stuck to this damned tree, no. It makes intimacy a little difficult, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I bet everyone can see you."

"Ah, no, I have a little tree house all my own up there for that. No, it's hard to be committed to and as a nymph. I literally can't say no if someone asks to fuck me."

"Wow, really?"

She gave me a smile. "Mhmm."

Thomas swallowed. Even though he was with Esmerelda who was Lydia, something about the situation made him incredibly lonely. She was the target, she was the thirteenth witch, she belonged to the coven, and he? What did he have?

Joe bumped his shoulder with hers. "Feel like a roll in the leaves, big boy?"

He swallowed again. That he was even tempted showed a lot about their relationship. "Yeah, no."

She shrugged, and slid the hair off his forehead, giving him that small smile. "You know where to find me, if you ever change your mind."

"Thanks, it actually means a lot."

"No problem, bro," she turned back to the bay. "I feel like we're kindred spirits in a way."

"Yeah." Thomas swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "Well, the croissants await."

"Take care, man." She patted his shoulder. "And smile, once in awhile. When you do, it really lights up a room!"

"Aw, thanks." It was nice for someone to tell him something like that. Something nice. Since Esmerelda's change, she'd been growing more and more distant, and colder.

He went in to the bakery, and picked up three croissants and two bears claws. He also bought two cups of coffee, then started back up the hill toward his house.

What Joe said to him, stuck. He shook his head. It was getting harder and harder to get that smile out of his mind. He knew she was a former man, a fellow dude, but…damn. It was nice to spend some time with someone who didn't test his patience every five minutes.

Esmerelda was working in her lab. He put all the items on a tray, then headed downstairs.

He opened the door, and something went Foooomph! and a little puff of purple smoke rose up from whatever she was working on.

"Merde!" She said, looking at him with thunder in her eyes. Her perfect coif had purple powder, and her face was covered in purple dust too. She rattled something to him in French, making exaggerated gestures with her hands.

"Can't understand you babe," Thomas said, setting down the tray. Esmerelda liked her coffee black, unlike Lydia who had loved tons of cream and sugar.

"Zis is zee fourth time you have deztroyed my work!" she threw her hands up, patting the purple powder out of her bouffant. "How many timez do I 'ave to tell you to knock!"

"I guess one more." Thomas gave her a sweet smile.

"It izzz infuriating to work down 'ere, and 'ave you bumble in and deztroy hourz and hourz of zee work! Do you know how important it iz zat I learn zis information?"

"I know, I know, the world depends on it and stuff."

She seethed, and threw a beaker at him.

He ducked. "Welp, that's my que to leave. Your croissants are right there, and there's your coffee, black, like your soul."

She screamed at him, and Thomas opened the door.

"IDIOT! Cretin!"

"Love you too babe," He slammed the door shut behind him.

Upstairs, he had to catch his breath. He could hear crashing and banging down there as she screamed in the midst of her temper tantrum. That was another thing about Esmerelda, and a big one he didn't like. She had a fiery temper.

He and Lydia had fought, to be sure, but usually it was him getting frustrated with her over something small, and usually it was a complete misunderstanding. She was passionate and usually a joy-filled person, and Thomas could probably count on one hand the times she'd ever been cross with him

This was becoming a pattern, though, with Esmerelda. Each day, she had some reason to get frustrated with him. He'd even gone to the extent of setting up a little futon in the shed, so he could sleep out there when she couldn't stand the sight of him.

Thomas drank his coffee, climbing the stairs to take a shower after his run.

He looked into the mirror as he undressed. It was unfair. Unfair of Esmerelda to take out her frustration on him. Unfair of her to decide unilaterally that they were going to live in Sælicbrook. Unfair that the magic of the town or what the fuck ever had chosen her to be one of the guardians.

He started to seethe, staring at his reflection in the mirror. It was so unfair.

Gritting his teeth, he went into the bathroom and started his shower.

In the bedroom, the mirror glowed a soft deep purple.