Chrysalis Novels & Stories

The Chrysalis, the painful transformation into a new state of being beyond normal definitions, began after I fully surrendered to nothingness and ego death. Remade from the essence of the void, I felt my entire self unmade and reshaped in mystical kilns burning with raw potential. My new being was marked with new understandings and higher awareness. Finally, I was reborn in a burst of light and dark insight, emerging from the suffering of transformation. My ties to my old self were gone, and my true nature emerged wild, chaotic, and free. With no responsibilities, no forced identities, but full of mysterious insights that are only now coming together.

Per usual, sober-me had to deal with the consequences of drunk-me's choices. . . . Chrysalis. That was the word I repeated to myself whenever I felt like giving up... Whenever it felt like the world was kicking my ass (extra hard), leaving me black and blue, I solaced myself with the idea that I was in the midst of a painful transformative period. Like a caterpillar undergoing metamorphosis, molting over and over during its journey to become a colorful butterfly. Earlier today, I must've inwardly said the word upwards of a hundred times. My silent response to every demeaning remark that I'd heard while I was on set.

She muttered as she placed the herb mixture into the chalice. She then took the knife with her hand closing her eyes. She began to chant quietly, the words so soft and mumbled if someone was listening they wouldn't be sure if she was talking at all. She then grasped the knife and slashed her palm. Blood flowed from her hand into the chalice. As her blood hits the herbs and crystals the lights in the bathroom shut off. A glow came from the chalice that lit up the bathroom. A purple color smoke came up and wrapped around the mirror. Kristen leaned into it, her own reflection twisting and changing. Kristen's brown hair was replaced with soft golden blond and her eyes darken to brown. Lydia was

he spits. I squat down to his level. I raise my shirt and there, just above my waistband on my hip, is the Damned Forsaken crest of a raven with a skeletal wing and head sitting atop a skull with a halo leaning against it on one side and a gun on the other. His eyes widen in acknowledgment.

'Cause, sister, you need to get out and get laid. You are such a nymph, Xera. If she'd been able to from inside her tree, Kyla would have stuck her tongue out. Stop thinking with your crotch. Sex isn't the answer for everything. You'd be surprised, youngling. Besides, we are nymphs. That's what a dryad is. Did you catch the stupidity virus from that fleabag or something? Oh, shut your knothole. With that, Kyla withdrew even deeper into her tree where she couldn't see or hear. The sun was almost up. It was time for all good dryads to go to sleep.

She included. The Spider demon swung one of her stinging legs at her. Decca fell on her back in shock clenching her neck. A blue crystal necklace appeared on her hands. Then her beautiful face became an evil cloaked image of her formal self. She levitated into the air in anger and the necklace rose In the air to a place above her head. The blue crystals glowed red instead of it former hue. "How dare you? You know fully well that I need the human blood now you want it for yourself you have selfish fools" she flung her crystal at them in anger.

“Protect the crystal!” Erynn darts toward the monument, her void-tainted relic pulsing, its hymn searing, the crystal’s light dimming, its vines cracking. Kalia’s orb cracks further, its void-energy erupting, her hymn a wild cry, her aura flaring, her eyes distant, a vision seizing her. “Aelys!” she gasps, her hands trembling, her vision showing a new rift-world—Sylvara, its forests void-blighted, the Herald’s ritual pulsing, the stolen relic its heart, Veil-threads fraying like ash. I shield Kalia, my blade striking a starborn, my shoulder throbbing, my vision blurring, my mortal heart straining. “Kalia, focus!” I shout, my voice strained, my hand steadying hers, our hymns merging briefly,

Something unbreakable. Something ready to rise.

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

Her brown eyes penetrated Cassandra's, and she began chanting, never leaving Cassandra's fear ridden eyes. It didn't take long before her screaming filled the air from the unbearable pain she was feeling. Cassandra wasn't lying, she had spelled her memories, making it harder for us to get in and also making it much more painful for her. But what she didn't know was Krys was an all powerful primordial witch, she knew how to find a way around it.