2026-07-07
From the Book of Lost Tides
Long I wandered in search of sea-witches and met none. I started in Varmouth, hoping that its Demon would exert a influence in matters dark and treacherous, but unsuccessful and knowing that the old magician had only found his witches near journey’s end, I crossed the Gulf and headed north by barren, rocky shores, and amidst those isles where leviathans had never prowled and sea-dragons yet leap had many an adventure. Yet I found no witches, so I sailed south to milder shores and larger ports, where mortal follies abound—transmutations that, despite their luster, do not truly work on one’s soul. So I made to return to Varmouth.
It was lost in thick woods south of the town that I finally found my witch, garbed in a long dress of the sky’s very shade. He fixed his black eyes on me and asked my true name.
“That’s the issue!” I said, “I don’t know.”
“Then you know the secret of transmutation: nothing is fixed, nothing is true. The town is this way, make haste ere nightfall, and you’ll arrive a new woman.” He winked and left down a path where pines had been. Even the witch found me pathetic.
I sat and wept a while before going down that same path.