“I hate my life…” Jillian mumbled to herself as she picked her way along the forest path. Her dark red hair was done up in a bun, her skin was still white and smooth — with freckles around her nose. Her strawberry shaped head tilted as she looked around warily, green eyes alert. Her hand went reassuringly to the gun holster on her pants. She was wearing dark blue riding pants, brown jack boots, a white shirt and a blue jacket. James hated her outfit, said it didn’t fit with the times. But the few times she’d been to town with him she saw a bald black man with denim and a black leather jacket! James was such a woman sometimes, thank goodness he had caved, otherwise it would have made living here unbearable.

She snorted to herself, “Living here…”

It had been years, almost seventeen years since she landed on this planet. But sometimes it felt like she’d come here yesterday. She could still see him. That charred hole in his head. Eyes wide open in surprise. His body falling down.

Jack… I miss you Jack.

She sniffled to herself but managed to hold back some tears.

“You can do it! You can do it! Dammit…”

Time heals all, but sometimes, it takes more time than we’d hope. Jillian’s eyes darted along the edges of the path, sometimes glancing into the brush a little way’s away. She was looking for ingredients. James had told her to always be careful in the forest, there was a large number of rare ingredients hidden in the woods, but there was a reason that the Chancellor didn’t send his people to harvest from the forest. The forest had a name: The Endless Wood. Hardly an original name, but an apt one. The forest was enormous and there were more than a few strange things about it, some Wizards (many years ago) had sent an exploration team years ago to find ingredients in the depths of the forest. They never came back. They sent another team, those too never came back. Eventually, word spread about The Endless Wood that gobbled men whole. Even James always told her to be careful in the forest, said there was something off about it.

James… my life revolves around glasses boy.

Johann Eisenach (or James) was something of a forest guardian, minus the pointy ears of your typical woodland elf. Although he was very slender. He did live a really long time…

Prick me… James is an elf… I never thought of that.

Jillian furrowed her brows as she spotted a glowing mushroom. She’d never seen this one before, James probably knew what it was. She put the mushroom in a bag strapped to her waist and sighed as she longed for a storage pocket. Despite all the vile concoctions and strange rituals she had undergone (that last one with the oil lamp was particularly bizarre) she was still unable to cultivate. For some odd reason James forbid her from learning about magic and insisted that she focus on cultivation, it’s not like she had much of a choice. But maybe this weird mushroom would get him to talk.

Talk. Since the initial excitement of meeting an alien had worn off, James had reverted to the demeanour of a prim and proper aristocrat. James didn’t like to talk at all, especially about how he was exiled to the forest. But a few names always came up whenever she managed to coax something out of him: Da Shan, Katherine, May, Michael and McCarthy. She hadn’t seen Da Shan in almost two decades, his loveable and large exterior, those dull brown eyes.

She blushed and put those thoughts aside as she spied a strange glowing plant with five leaves growing off one another. She shoved it in her satchel, praying it wasn’t toxic to the touch.

If James was a forest guardian she was his little helper. She was starting to get sick of her job. What he ate, she ate. Where he went, she went. Where he sat, she sat. She was developing an intense hatred towards glasses. Whenever he shoved them up on his nose with his one finger, all dainty-like, it pissed her off so much. Sometimes she fantasized about smashing his glasses… or eating them.

Frick… I’m getting a weird kind of cabin fever… I am sick of all these damn trees! I want out! I want out! She screamed in her mind, her face flushed with irritation. Hold on Jill… just hold on… deep breaths. There you go girl, in and out. In and out. Okay… it’s almost over… almost.

But she couldn’t calm herself down.

She started hyperventilating, she felt the edges of her vision go dark as pain clutched her heart. A panic attack? It was a panic attack!

Beep!

Jillian nearly jumped out of her skin as her implants activated.

You are under distress, please relax. A robotic voice intoned in her mind.

Then she felt a sweet flood of narcotic induced relief. She breathed deeply, appreciating the marvels of modern medicine. She looked at her hand as a pulse of light flashed across her palm. They were both a blessing and a curse. One the once hand the readily available flow of endorphins and the vast amount of information stored let her pass the time peacefully — whenever she wasn’t the subject of one of James’ experiments. But it was on account of her cybernetic and genetic enhancements that she couldn’t leave the damn forest. James told her that advanced Cultivators and Wizards would immediately realize something was off about her and the more nefarious ones (which apparently were everywhere!) would kidnap her and dissect her. Wizards wanted her for their so-called scientific experiments and Witches wanted her for their so-called sacrificial rituals. So, she had been hidden away for seventeen long years, drinking vials of “who knows what” to do “something or other” — as James so helpfully put it. Though he couldn’t figure out how to make her cultivate, somehow, he had figured out how to hide her insides from those who would have designs on her ladylike figure. According to him, it would be safe for her to travel in a month or so — maybe less — and since she had learned not just one, but three local languages, all would be well. It was a good thing she also had that on the go, it took some doing to get James on board… but soon… soon they’d be able to put some plans in motion.

Snap!

Jillian ripped her pistol from the holster and pointed it towards the sound.

She inhaled sharply.

There’s nothing there… Only trees and —

Loud sounds burst through the stillness of the forest.

Crash! BOOM! Then moments later a soft thud, like the sound of something soft hit the ground.

She dropped low and shimmied towards a tree, keeping her back to the trunk and dropping to one knee.

“What was that sound…” she wondered aloud.

It sounded like a tree exploded. This whole world was abnormal! Cultivators, Wizards, Witches, Psykers and the clothes! The billowy shirts and riding pants and now even the trees weren’t safe!

Jillian’s eyes panned around the wood, carefully.

James’ words about the weirdness of the forest became more real everyday. More than once in these seventeen years she had to fend off a bear, some sort of large cat — and one time a goat with six horns. The goat was particularly fierce. It had almost killed her before James showed up and slaughtered it — and it was a slaughter. Then he made her eat the goat’s heart… raw. Then made this really weird look when nothing happened, as if something was supposed to happen, another failed experiment.

Let’s hope it’s not another goat.

She turned on her ocular implant, a green light flickering across her pupils. She waited for her implants to power-up. Her hand skirted along the pistol, pressing a few buttons. She changed the mode. The gun hissed and whirred, metal folding out and steam escaping as the barrel almost doubled in length.

Six-shot mode… She grinned to herself. She hated getting ambushed but being the ambusher… it was one of the reasons she had stayed single. She wanted to pursue the guy, catch him unawares. Pounce on him when he least expected it! That’s why Jack…

Jack

That’s why she could never feel anything for Jack. He was like a puppy dog that followed her around… now he was dead.

She put her old friend from her mind and with a click and a beep her implants were raring and ready to go. She slapped her pistol, making sure it was ready.

“Switch to infrared.”

Jillian almost fell over as she saw glowing dots scattered across her field of vision. She zoomed in and noticed that each dot was a plant. The plants! Dammit, who knew that those special plants I needed would glow in infrared. So many wasted years…

She filed away the locations of some of the more… luminescent… pieces of plant matter and moved slowly from tree to tree in the direction of the explosion. She walked slowly and steadily, taking care to avoid dead branches and dry leaves. She tried to recall the sounds she had heard as she kept her eyes peeled for any movement. There was the crashing and the exploding, but there was also that snap. The snap was close, the other sounds distant. Something else was here. She thought about going to ask James for help, but the thought of seeing his bespectacled face made her feel nauseous.

I fricking hate —

Then she saw something.

A blurry shape bumbled across her line of sight, moving from tree to tree dozens of feet behind her. She tucked herself behind a tree and filed through the infrared scans and pulled up the blurry image.

Magnify. She thought.

The picture sharpened, but not enough.

Go 3-d, rotate. She spun the image of the blurry shape in her mind.

She scrunched her eyebrows. It looks like a… person?

Strange. She should have seen something like a person. She peeked out from behind the tree and focused on the last spot she saw that thing.

Then she heard the rustle of dry leaves.

Now! It’s moving between trees.

She followed the blob with her infrared vision as it moved.

Infrared off.

She tried to remain quiet but she couldn’t prevent a small gasp from escaping her throat.

There was nobody there.

She rotated between infrared and normal vision a couple times before the figure hid behind a tree again — just to make sure. She cursed her luck.

Bloody magic powers and stupid secret techniques and pricking ineffable ancient wisdom.

“Infrared on!” It was now a snarl, not a whisper. Based on the movement of the figure, he was tailing her. No mercy.

She set the blurry shape in her sights.

It stopped moving as if confused by her actions, it looked wary, as if uncertain that she could see it. It started edging a bit more to the side.

Jillian smirked to herself and pointed the pistol away from the shape.

The shape relaxed. Then started moving to a different tree.

Gotcha.

Jillian whirled around, twisting her body at an impossible angle and pulled the trigger as she tumbled to the ground.

Bang!

The recoil from the shot threw her back before she hit the ground, but she was able to see the head of the blurry shape explode in a mass of liquid before her own head smacked the forest floor.

Breathing deeply Jillian rolled over. Stood up. And brushed off dirt from her clothes, cleanliness was of the utmost importance to a Space Marine. Old habits die hard. She walked over to the corpse of her pursuer and switched off her infrared vision.

She felt her skin crawl at the sight. It wasn’t the gore or something like that fact that she had killed someone. It was the black robe. The white shirt. The black pants. The neat boots. And the smell… she could never forget the smell. The scent of burning flesh. It clung to the dead man like a cloud. One word filled her mind.

Witches.

Her hands started shaking. Her white cheeks flushed red. Her heart clenched up. She started panicking, she knew this sensation. She remembered it well. Fear.

You are under distress, please relax. The robotic voice sounded again.

She relaxed, the tension leaving her shoulders.

What if there are —

The sound of feet on grass. The patter of a man running.

She spun around as fast as she could just in time to see a sword heading straight for her head. She twisted her body and spun her pistol on her fingers, smashing the butt of the gun into the sword.

She felt regret.

She forgot how powerful these people were, even her… huh?

Jillian was presently surprised as her attacker’s arm was flung back, both their eyes widened in surprise, as if neither of them had expected her parry to work.

Though she was surprised she was still a Space Marine. In one fluid motion she spun her pistol around and blasted a hole in the Witch’s chest, the man was flung back, his black robe billowing as he dropped to the ground. Jillian heaved deep breaths and froze.

She had survived? She could kill someone with superpowers? She looked down at her hand and flexed it as another light pulsed across the back of her hand. Her hands never glowed with light before, but to be honest she had never thought about what that meant. Maybe all of James’ concoctions were finally paying off.

Just as she was about to walk off she noticed a storage bag tied to the waist of the Witch. She looked at the other Witch and noticed there was one there too.

She rubbed her hands together and smirked to herself.

*****

Oz faded in and out of consciousness, unable to rouse himself. He knew he was in a forest somewhere. He knew he was alive. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He had done his best to mitigate the damage from the fall, but it was far from enough.

He tried to turn over and almost screamed.

He propped his head up, he only had enough strength to hold it up for a moment. But it was enough. His face went pale at the sight of his bloodied and mangled legs. They were all twisted and bent out of shape, his shin bones jutting out of his flesh.

He gulped.

Then coughed.

Then barely suppressed a moan of pain.

Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. His ribs must be broken, and he probably had internal bleeding. He felt hot and sticky, leaves and dirt mingled with blood as he tried his best to remain still. He tried to move his hand to the storage pocket in his jacket. But gave up, his arm wasn’t responding. It wasn’t moving at all.

He looked within himself, to see how much Wood Essence he had left, and almost cried. He was bone dry. He didn’t panic though, for some reason he felt like he had been through worse.

He felt the cube in his mind pop open, just a little.

An image flashed in his mind of seeing a headless body wearing a patchwork kimono.

What was that? A memory. A —

He vomited. He felt his stomach empty as puke streamed down his chin and onto his clothes. Then gasped trying to hold himself together as he was assaulted by waves of pain that nearly shattered his mind.

Another image assailed him, this time it was Ed. His father.

He had just opened a door, he felt some relief in his chest, as if Ed was his only hope. But Ed’s expression was grim and pained. In the memory he felt surprise and hurt as the old bald Psycher unleashed a barrage of ghostly hammers on him. An idea flashed in his mind.

I was betrayed? I was betrayed by… Papa?

He vomited again, this time it was blood and acid. He desperately tried to breathe, but it felt like a heavy weight was on his chest and he choked on his own blood. Some of his vomit managed to fall into his eyes and he felt the burn of his stomach acid while he desperately blinked away tears. He frothed and foamed at the mouth, like a mad man he twisted his broken body, trying to dispel the vomit from his mouth. But his controlled twists turned to spasmatic convulsions.

Now he felt panic. All his life he wanted to open the cube, now he wished it remained shut.

The cube popped open a little more. Another image, a memory of some kind, smashed into his mind. If the previous images had almost shattered his consciousness, this one did. This one was more vivid, more impactful, as if it was a deeper and more vivid memory. He was looking down at a dead body. His sword and his hands bloodied. His face hot from tears. On the ground was a woman, she had pale white skin. Her green eyes were open, lifeless and spatters of blood intermingled with the freckles around her nose. A strawberry shaped head and soft read hair, splayed out on the ground. A deep sword wound that almost bisected her chest caused a pool of blood to form around her corpse. He had killed her. She was dead by his own hands.

Katherine… Katherine… Katherine…

Her name was Katherine. He looked to the side, there was another person there with him. It looked like Chancellor McCarthy, a little younger. But his face was hysterical with tears. At his feet was a dead girl. Her sandy hair, green eyes and strawberry head gave her a close resemblance to the woman he had killed. He felt a pain in his chest when he saw her. A powerful pain. A deep pain.

My daughter… Maybelle…

Then McCarthy screamed, “Paderborn! I will murder you!”

Everything went black.