Something Wicked Comes...

As the sun beamed down on the dewy forest, an old woman wearing a dark blue robe could be seen hobbling down the leaf coated path, occasionally stopping to prise her gnarled walking stick out of the marsh-like ground whilst unleashing a string of curses under her breath until it finally came free. Even though it was roughly midday, Magda grumbled that it would take the whole day to get back to her cabin at this rate - although she had to admit it was a particularly nice day; the birds were still chirping gleefully and the dampness in the air refreshed her feeble lungs.


Snick
Magda instantly froze at the sound. She’d lived long enough in these woods to know that only deer and foxes habituated it; both creatures were too anxious to stray anywhere near her, so what could be - Roaring suddenly shattered the forest’s silence and caused Magda to clutch her chest as her heart almost exploded with fright. Before she could comprehend what was happening, a mountainous bald man grasped her frail body with his meaty hands and slammed her against a wall before tearing her hood down and forcefully kissing her, his shaggy beard scraping against Madga’s papery skin.

“Garrick, wait!” shouted a wiry man with a thin black goatee. “Look at her - she’s an old woman!” The large man instantly ceased ravishing Magda.

“What…?” he growled. The man moved away; Magda managed to steady herself with her stick before she collapsed to the ground.


“For fuck’s sake, Laurent!” he bellowed, spitting and wiping his mouth. “You’re supposed to be able to tell who’s an easy catch! This time it’s some old hag, the next I’ll be smooching an Inquisitor!”

Laurent retreated, cowering slightly. “Sorry, Garrick - I should have known from that cane of hers.”

Another man, with neck-long blond hair, snorted as he eyed Magda. “Good thing Larry figured it out before it was too late - I bet her cunt’s drier than a crypt!”He and Garrick howled with laugher, whilst Larry chuckled nervously.

“You dare insult me-!” Magda hissed as she limped forward, but Garrick simply slapped her cane and she crumpled to the ground; causing Garrick to laugh again.

“Granny’s got some fire in her!” He smirked as he peered down at her. “I love my girls with a bit of fight in ‘em.”Then he kicked Magda in sharply the ribs, savouring the crunch of her bones and the hoarse wails that came out of her mouth.

“Shame! You! Ain’t! My! Type!”

He kicked her one last time for good measure before turning around and walking away. “Let’s get back to camp - we don’t want to be seen standing over some dead git’s body.”

“W-we can’t just leave her there…”

“Shut up, Laurent! What’s wrong, you gone soft for granny? Want her to knit you some clothes or make you some treats? Fuck off - you’ve seen me do far worse.”

“Serves her right for walking down here anyways,” said the blond haired man. “If she lives this far out, then she can’t have anyone that’ll miss her.”Her vision blurring, Magda watched as the men sauntered away…
----

It was evening by the time Magda had staggered into her hut, tumbling onto her bed the moment she saw it - gods was she glad to have been clever enough to place it so close to the door. Groaning as she sat down, Magda looked up at the mirror standing a few feet opposite her and sighed at what it reflected: A broken, hunchbacked old woman whose forehead was still weeping blood due to the fall earlier. She groaned with every hoarse breath she took as he lungs pressed against fractured ribs. There also an intense, burning hatred boiling inside her - she hoped the tightness around her heart was it’s way of manifesting and not an omen of things to come.

Her bony hands gripped the bedsheets. Enough was enough - she thought she’d been doing the world some kindness by hiding away from those mobs and Inquisitors; living her days out in peace and quiet, but if this was how she was going to repaid for it… Magda forced herself up off her bed and stumbled over to the shelves and cupboards, taking out a goat’s horn, a jar of brimstone and a curved knife.

“Tús!” She snapped, pointing her palm dramatically at the fireplace.

Nothing happened; a pang of embarrassment rang through Magda - it was like she was enrolling into the coven all over again.


“Tús! Tús! Tús!”


Whoomph
Magda sighed with relief as fire sprouted and licked at the cauldron, the water quickly beginning to bubble and broil. Even though it had been years since she’d casted any spell, it was good to know there was still magic within her. Standing over the cauldron, Magda then dropped the goat’s horn into it followed by a handful of brimstone which fizzed as it mixed with the water; a rotten smell began to rise in the air.

Magda then took the knife and nicked her palm with the blade before placing it over the cauldron, the drops of blood causing the brew to turn from a yellow and into an orangey colour. Fetching a ladle, Magda scooped out some of the concoction and began to slowly spill it onto the floor in a circular fashion, before refilling and pouring out a pentagram.

As Magda stared at the summoning symbol, something itched at the back of her mind: she was forgetting something, but what? Her concussed mind searched clumsily for the answer, the still present throbbing not doing any favours in keeping concentrated, but she clapped her hands together as she realised the missing ingredient - candles! After assorting the five candles on each point of the pentagram Magda stepped inside of it and knelt down, groaning as her worn out knees chafed against their joints; the weight of her body on them combined with the rough wooden floor caused an immense amount of discomfort for the old witch.

Screwing her eyes shut in an attempt to focus, Magda began to mutter an ancient summoning mantra - if there was one thing she could never forget, it was those words:

“O Asmanar, cuiribh feart mo ghairm agus gràs mi le do làthaireachd…O Asmanar, cuiribh feart mo ghairm agus gràs mi le do làthaireachd…”

After a minute or so of chanting, a deathly cold wind breathed through the cabin and sent tingles up Magda’s spine. The crackling of the fire and the bubbling of the cauldron were gone and had been replaced with a deafening silence. Opening her eyes, Magda found herself to no longer be in her cabin; instead now sitting in the middle of what appeared to be some sort of deep, underground chamber with the only way out being through a archway that was completely shrouded in darkness - but Magda had no intention of moving from where she knelt.

“Magdalena…” something rasped from deep within. The clip-clop of hooves on stone echoed throughout the chamber and slowly got louder as whatever inside the passageway drew nearer and nearer, it’s glowing red orbs peering out through the darkness at Magda. A creature similar to a satyr soon stepped out of the archway - but unlike a satyr this creature had two bat wings growing out of it’s back and was tall enough to dwarf even the large bandit leader.

“Lord Asmanar.” Magda bowed, biting down on her tongue to block the moan of pain rising up her throat as her ribs ached - now was not the time to show weakness.

“It has been so long since we last convened,” he said sorrowfully. “In fact - if I recall correctly - you said you would never summon me again.”

“Things have changed,” Magda explained hurriedly. “I am-”

“You are dying,” interrupted the demon, revealing rows of pin-like teeth as it smiled. “You look surprised - don’t be. Humans are so predictable - afraid of death and willing to do whatever it takes to survive.”

“Then… Then surely you must be aware-”
 
“Aware of what happened today, yes.” Asmanar said casually as he flicked something out of one of his blackened talons. “Tell me... how did it feel to be so powerless?”

Magda was silent, her head still bowed.

“You must have felt so weak as you laid there in the rain-soaked mud; unable to stop that bandit from kicking and cracking your again and again… Had you never abandoned your ways, you would have been able to deal with them with a flick of your wrist-”

“My lord, please! I am running out of time-”

Asmanar frowned. “Did you… did you just beg?” The demon walked over to Magda and cupped her face with a taloned hand. “What happened to you, my child?” He sighed, his red orbs peering deep into Magda’s greyish green eyes. “So frail and spineless… Where did that ambitiously wicked witch go?” His face twisted into a sneer.

“I know what happened,” he spat, yanking his hand away and pacing around Magda. “You became afraid of those Inqusitors - of dying - so you fled and retreated deep into that forest to spend the rest of your life undisturbed. Living such a sedentary and isolated life has made you weak both physically and magically-”

“But I can become strong once more if you would-”

“No,” Asmanar said. “Your time has passed, Magda. You will die and I will simply wait for the next arrogant young coven outcast pathetically searching for power and glory-”

“Enough!” Magda boomed, rising her head up to glare at the demon lord. “I am Magdalena the Malignant! I struck terror into the heart of this kingdom for ten years; ten years in which I sated you with hundreds of souls!” She then presented her bony hands to the demon. “I do not deserve to die like this - tossed and kicked like some old child’s toy! I would rather have an Inquisitor’s blade in my gut or a mob’s noose wrapped tight around my neck.”

Asmanar’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Welcome back Magdalena,” he said. “It is nice to see you after all these years.” With a snap of his fingers, the demon’s left hand was suddenly set alight. “I shall grant you your youth… But you know I shall not give it for free. I will require a sacrifice-”

“Three souls,” Magda interrupted. “I can give you three souls in exchange for restoring me.”

Asmanar licked his lips with a long black tongue. “Excellent… I believe we have a deal.” He then punched his fiery hand into Magda’s chest and gripped her heart so tightly that Magda thought it would burst.

“RENOVARE!” he roared, and a warmth began to course quickly through Magda’s entire being. Initially it was comforting, but as time passed the warmth became a heat; the heat became a blaze and Magda found herself unable to hold back a harrowing scream as she -


----

Woke up in her cabin with a long, sharp gasp. Moonlight was now streaming through the window; the candles had melted away and the summoning symbol she’d made on the floor was dry and faded. Her body tingled all over and she immediately looked at her hands, but her heart dropped as she saw that they still looked withered and skinny. Perhaps her meeting with Asmanar was just some sort of hallucination or dream -

Magda cried out as her spine was wrenched back, her bones cracking and snapping sharply as her back straightened out and removed the hunchback she’d gained over the years in a matter of seconds. Simultaneously, the ribs that had been broken by Garrick earlier clicked back into place and healed themselves, the bruises from the kicks fading away. As Magda sat there she could feel her bones continue to strengthen, the cartilage between her joints reforming and getting rid of that pesky arthritis. Her confidence growing, she placed her hands on the floor and pushed herself up - she could stand up straight.

“Oh my gods…” she whispered. “It’s happening… I-I’m becoming younger!” She dashed over to the mirror, relishing the speed and painlessness as she did so, and quickly shed off most of her clothing: She needed to see every single change that was going to happen.

As she stared at her reflection, she began to feel a tightness spreading over her as her leathery skin started to lose it’s wrinkles and liver spots. Glancing down at her hands, Magda gasped as she saw her hands fill out slightly, the warts dotted around them being enveloped or melting away. There was a odd tugging sensation at her fingertips as the chipped and dented nails were magically manicured into perfect condition. Once they were finished, Magda brushed them against her face, loving how silky and smooth they now felt. A snug warmth sprinkled across her body as her pale skin began to redden with pinkish tones and hues, leaving her skin with a healthy glow.

The wiry tufts of hair on her head began to sprout out down towards her back before illuminating into vibrant blonde hair. Magda eagerly kneaded her luscious locks, loving the softness as she glanced back at her reflection - she looked less like an eighty year old and more like a fifty year old now! However, her body still left much to be desired as her physique was still that of an old woman; she hated how her breasts still sagged lifelessly. Seemingly aware of her disgust, the demon’s magic began to focus on these imperfections as her limbs and waist started to gain weight, her thighs thickening with flesh and muscle; leaving her with a rather curvy lower half. She couldn’t resist turning around to stare at her tight, firm ass before giving it a teasing squeeze, giggling at how it looked and felt in her hands.

The sensation sent flickers of pleasure up into her breasts and instantly hardened her nipples, causing Magda to spin back around and ogle her reflection’s chest. Moments later the flesh in her flat, drooping breasts started to shift and morph as if someone invisible was groping and kneading them - the thought that Asmanar himself was personally shaping them from beyond his realm crossed Magda’s steamy mind and caused her to release a long, lustful moan.

Posing in front of the mirror, Magda noticed that she now appeared to be around thirty years old - the age she was when she decided to flee from the wrath of the Inquisitors - and sighed.

“I suppose it make sense to start at the age where I left off,” she thought, turning around and heading towards a dusty wooden wardrobe in the corner. However, there was in fact one last incoming change that Magda hadn’t thought of until a sharp cramping pain rose around her stomach that almost made her double over: As she was no longer an elderly woman, her ovaries started to go through an “menounpause”; unleashing massive surges of hormones upon Magda’s unsuspecting body and kick-starting her libido into overdrive.

“O-oh my gods…!” Magda gasped as she was overwhelmed by arousal. A wetness started to leak out of Magda’s warm lips and dripped down her leg as an aching emptiness grew inside her - there was no way she’d be able to enact her revenge whilst she was this distracted, so she lowered a shaking hand down to her crotch and slowly plunged two fingers inside.

“Ohhhhh gods YES!” she cried out in a husky, mature tone as bliss rippled through her. As she continued masturbating, she could feel her body getting hotter and hotter as she got closer and closer to reaching her climax. But little did she realise that with every thrust of her fingers, a year also dropped off her age - by the time she was twenty, the pleasure was just too much and Magdelena squealed as she finally came. Slipping her soaked, slender fingers out, the witch flopped onto the floor as she basked in the afterglow of her orgasm, giggling in pleasure and relief.

“Wow… that was incredible…” she sighed in a honeyed pitch. Once she’d finally come down from her pleasure induced high a couple minutes later, Magdalena stood up, opened the wardrobe and began searching through the horrible tattered clothes she no longer needed - then her hands grabbed something that was just as silky smooth as they were and her face lit up.

Magdalena pulled it out, revealing a lacy black dress. She wasted no time in putting on, loving now snug it felt against her skin and shivering slightly with satisfaction. Walking back over to the mirror, Magdalena was shocked to find herself having now become the age she was when she had been expelled from the coven and started her alliance with Asmanar. She hardly upset with the change though - if anything she welcomed it and truly felt like herself again.

“Thank you my lord,” Magdalena said aloud as wicked grin grew on her face. “I promise not to disappoint…”

----

It was midnight in the forest now, the only sounds to be heard were the hoots of owls and the crackling of the campfire that the bandits were crouching over.

“We should probably move elsewhere tomorrow,” said the blond man . “If that old woman was the only person to live around these parts then we’re losing time and money.”

“Good idea, Crowley.” Garrick grunted as he cleaned his dagger.

Laurent was silent, his eyes staring straight into the fire. Noticing this, Crowley frowned and nudged him.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been silent all day.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still worked up about that bloody woman,” Garrick growled. “You keep this up and we’ll leave you as a gift to the Inquisitors.”

Snick

Laurent and Crowley immediately drew their weapons at the sound whilst Garrick leaped up, his his darting around the area.

“Who’s there?!” he barked. “Show yourself!”

Something rustled around in the undergrowth; Crowley squinted his eyes as he peered into the darkness. “There’s someone coming!” he whispered, pointing his sword at the silhouette approaching them; the others gathered around him and did the same. They were expecting another bandit or Inquisitor but when the person stepped into the light, they all dropped their weapons and jaws.

The most beautiful woman they’d ever seen was standing in front of them: She had a flowing mane of blonde hair and soft creamy skin - and the dress she was wearing showed a generous amount of it, especially around her chest where two thin straps that connected to the choker around her neck were effectively all that covered her round, perky breasts. Her face looked as if it had been sculpted by the gods themselves, it’s shape was a soft oval and was decorated with the most plump, kissable lips. Her eyes were a striking mix of orange, yellow and red - or was that just the reflection of the fire dancing in her eyes?

As he stared at the woman, a frown slowly creased Laurent’s face. There was something familiar about the woman, but what? Perhaps she just reminded him of one of the many tavern wenches he’d seen during his travels with Garrick and Crowley.

“Forgive me for startling you,” the woman spoke softly, bowing her head. “My name is Maggie. Do you mind if I stay with you amongst the campfire tonight?”

“…Sure,” Garrick said as he sat back down, followed by Crowley and Laurent. “What’s a lass like you doing out here? It’s dangerous to go out into the forest alone this time of the night.”

“Oh, nothing much.” she answered, smiling thinly. “Just starting my life anew, you could say. What about you men?”

“We’re uh…. travellers.” Crowley said, shifting around on the spot. “Go where we want, when we want.”

“…Interesting.” She then eyed the dagger Garrick was still cleaning. “You have to fight often?”

“All the time,” he boasted. “I managed to fight off two Inquisitors with this baby once - these helped too.” he gestured at his bulky arms.

“Mmm, how impressive…” said Maggie. “Sounds like you have a lot of strength - and stamina too.”

“Damn right I do.” He then glanced at the tent a couple metres away from them. “You should probably head inside - you’ll catch a cold with a dress like that on.”

“Hmm?” Maggie looked down at herself and laughed heartily, covering her hand with her mouth. “Oh! I suppose you’re right about that. It's been a while since I've worn a dress like this”

She then stood up and headed towards the tent, slipping inside. Garrick turned back around to face his comrades, a wolfish grin on his face and a hungry glint in his eyes.

“Jackpot,” he said in a hushed tone. “That dumb bitch must have had some sheltered fairytale life if she’s willing to trust a group of men that easily.”

“What do you want us to do?” Crowley asked.

“Just keep an eye out - this forest is pretty quiet at night, so loud sounds might travel far…” Laurent just rolled his eyes as the two men chuckled lecherously. Garrick then stood up and trudged his way over to the tent, pushing his way through the flaps.

----

Magdalena moaned loudly as Garrick finally came inside her, his nails almost piercing her shoulder as he tensed. She shuddered as she felt his manhood slip out of her for the last time, the bandit rolling onto the floor beside her.

“Fucking hell…” he breathed. Magdalena sat up, smirking at him as she adjusted and fixed her dress.

“I bet you weren’t expecting me to be so… welcoming, were you?” She rolled onto him, straddling his hips and placing her hands on his chest.

“I’ve fucked so many women I can’t even count 'em all,” Garrick said. “But you… fucking hell…”

Magdalena giggled lightly as she traced his abs with a finger. “Really? I am the best you’ve ever had?”

“You were so tight and wet…” he muttered as Magdalena laid down on his body, placing her head right next to his ear.

“I suppose this means my cunt isn’t as dry as a crypt after all?” she whispered, slowly pulling her head back to watch the frown on Garrick's face snap to one of shock - but before he could wrap his hands around her neck, Magdalena slipped out her ritual knife from under her sleeve and plunged it straight into his heart.


----

Crowley and Laurent were still huddled around the dwindling campfire in the cold forest night. Crowley’s head kept bobbing up and down as he struggled to stay awake whilst Laurent was perfectly stationary his eyes drawn to the tent.

“Something’s up,” he whispered, causing Crowley to jump and lift his head.

“Huh, wha-?”

“It’s been almost ten minutes since they’ve stopped,” Laurent told him. “And he hasn’t come out yet.”

“…So? Maybe he’s asleep.”

Laurent scoffed. “Crowley, we both know Garrick - he always comes and boasts to us about how much fun he had or how good it felt fucking them.”

“For gods’ sake Laurent,” Crowley snapped. “I’ve had enough of this bloody mood of yours.” He then stood up and dusted himself off. “I’ll go check on Garrick - just don’t be surprised if he slices my throat for disturbing him.”

Laurent continued staring into the fire as Crowley stomped off towards the tent and poked his head inside.“Hold on… What the fu-?!”

Crowley’s scream snapped Laurent out of his stupor; he opened his eyes just in time to see his friend’s burning body fly through the air and slam into a tree - he didn’t get up. Laurent scrambled off the ground and took out his sword just in time to see someone step out of the tent - it was the woman from earlier. As she turned to look at him, Laurent noticed her eyes were an eerie gold and his blood turned cold.

“You’re a w-witch?!” he shrieked before turning around sprinting off into the forest, but then Magdalena rose a hand into the air and shouted “Gaiste!” Laurent tripped onto the ground as the roots and branches of a nearby tree sprung to life, quickly wrapping themselves around his limbs and pulling him against its trunk. Their grip around his wrists tightened; forcing him to drop his sword and watch it clatter to the ground. A couple moments later he heard the shuffling and crunching of leaves as the witch walked into view, a mischievous grin on her beautiful face.

“Y-you’re that old woman…!” he said as he flailed and struggled.

“I had a feeling you suspected me the moment I arrived,” Magdalena admitted as she knelt down and picked up Laurent’s sword.. “You’re quite observant, I’ll give you that.”

“P-Please…” he whimpered, glancing at the sword. “I-I didn’t do anything to you!”

Magdalena pouted and walked closer, almost pressing herself against Laurent as she gently stroked his cheek.

“My dear boy… That is precisely why I’m going to kill you,” she cooed. “None of this would have happened if you had grown a spine and stopped that disgusting ogre of a man from wounding me so grievously.” A searing pain shot through Laurent’s as something cold slipped through his stomach; Magdalena gave him a peck on the forehead before stepping away.

“You know, I’d say it was your fault…” She said, studying him as if he were a glorious painting she had just finished creating. “But that word implies something bad happened - and I mean, look at me.” She gestured at herself and spun around. “I’ve never looked for felt so good - I suppose the best thing to say is thank you.”

Laurent’s vision was starting to blur; his body was starting to feel colder than it had ever felt before - even blinking was starting to feel like an effort.

“I’ll leave you here as a little gift for the Inquisitors when they come,” She mumbled - or was his hearing starting to go too? “And they will come, I assure you…”His vision dimming, the last thing Laurent saw was the witch calmly walk away into the night…

----

Helmet in his hand, Inquisitor William stared at the dead man impaled to a tree, it’s branches and roots still entangled around his arms and legs. Turning away with a sigh, the knight surveyed the rest of the makeshift camp that (presumably) he and the two other bodies had been living in.

Why couldn’t anything ever be simple? A couple hours ago, the town scouts had spotted clouds of smoke billowing out of the distant forest and some of the townsguard were sent to deal with it - but not only did they find that the source of the blaze was some remote rickety cabin, they also stumbled across a murder scene on their way home. It was only when they noticed that poor sod strapped to the tree that Inquisitor William was woken up at half five in the morning to go and investigate.

“Inquisitor William, sir!”

He turned to face the young brown haired mage. “Anything to report, Mikhail?”

The cleric pushed his circle-shaped glasses before saying; “I can confirm that the man impaled in the tree and the burnt corpse over there are indeed the victims of magic.”

William raised an eyebrow. “Magic, you say? What about the body in that tent?”

“Ah yes - that was just a simple knife wound. I do believe that body is in fact "Garrick the Gutter” - he’s been on the Inquisition’s wanted list for quite some time.“

"Sounds like whoever behind all this did us quite the favour,” William said.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that sir.” Mikhail added grimly.

“What do you mean?”

The mage shifted nervously on his legs. “The magic used to kill these bandits… it’s incredibly dark magic, sir. Although the methods used were simple, I cannot deny the evil aura surrounding this area.”

William fastened his helmet. “So we’re dealing with a rogue magic user?”

“N-not just any magic user - the townsguard found the remains of a cauldron inside the wreckage of that burned cabin.”

“So we’re dealing with a witch?”

“It seems so, sir.”

“Alright then… Let’s head back to the village.” William sighed as he marched over to his horse, Mikhail plodding behind him. “I have a report to send to High Command; you need to contact the gravedigger for these bodies.”

“Yes sir!”

The two men climbed onto their horses and rode off into the forest...

Artwork by Raikoart, source is here.