The slam of
the car door echoed through the night like a gunshot, followed immediately by
the screech of tires on asphalt. Jess stood frozen on the gravel shoulder of
Lovers Lane, watching the red taillights of Derek's Camaro disappear around the
bend, taking with them her purse, her phone, and apparently two years of what
she'd foolishly believed was love.
The silence that
followed was deafening. No crickets chirped in the tall grass that bordered the
narrow road. No wind rustled through the oak trees that formed a canopy
overhead, their branches intertwining like fingers against the star-scattered
sky. Even her own breathing seemed muted, as if the very air had thickened
around her in the wake of Derek's cruel departure.
She pulled her
cardigan tighter around her shoulders, suddenly aware of how the temperature
had dropped since sunset. The thin fabric of her sundress offered little
protection against the night chill, and her sandals weren't designed for the
long walk home that now stretched before her. Five miles through winding
country roads, past empty fields and darkened farmhouses, with nothing but the
pale moon to light her way.
"Bastard,"
she whispered into the darkness, her voice cracking slightly. The word felt
inadequate for the rage and humiliation burning in her chest. Two years of
dates, of holding hands in movie theaters, of letting him pick the restaurants
and the movies and even her friends. Two years of heavy petting and the
occasional blowjob. Two years of never setting a romantic scene for their first
time to truly make love. Two years of "maybe next time" and
"when you're ready" and "I can wait." Until tonight, when his
patience had apparently run out along with his pretense of being a decent human
being. But there was no way she was ever going to have sex in a car like a
randy teenager.
The memory of
his hands on her, insistent and rough, made her skin crawl. The way his voice
had changed when she'd pushed him away tonight, going from pleading to angry to
something darker. "Fine," he'd snarled, reaching across her to throw
open the passenger door. "Walk home then. Maybe that'll teach you what
you're missing."
Jess began
walking, her sandals crunching on the gravel shoulder. Each step sent small
stones skittering into the weeds, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive
quiet. She'd walked this road before, during daylight hours when Derek would
drive them out here for picnics or to watch the sunset from the hill that
overlooked the valley. It had seemed romantic then, pastoral and peaceful. Now
it felt like a gauntlet she had to run, every shadow potentially hiding some
new threat.
The first mile
passed slowly, her feet already beginning to ache in the impractical shoes. She
tried to focus on her anger rather than her fear, using Derek's betrayal as
fuel to keep moving forward. How many times had she defended him to her friends
when they'd called him controlling? That time he'd "accidentally"
deleted her college applications because she was "getting too big for her
britches." When he'd convinced her to quit her book club because
"those women are filling your head with feminist nonsense." How many
red flags had she ignored because he could be so charming when he wanted to be?
The flowers he'd brought after their first real fight, the way he'd apologized
with tears in his eyes, promising he'd never raise his voice to her again. Promises
that had lasted exactly three weeks—right up until he'd grabbed her wrist so
hard it bruised, hissing that she was "lucky to have him" because
"no one else would put up with her attitude."
By the second
mile, the anger was giving way to a bone-deep exhaustion that had nothing to do
with the physical exertion of walking. This wasn't just about tonight, she
realized. This was about every compromise she'd made, every time she'd bitten
her tongue when he'd made decisions for both of them, every moment she'd felt
like she was disappearing a little more into the shadow of his expectations.
The road curved
ahead, and Jess found herself slowing, disoriented. Something felt...
different. Wrong, maybe, or perhaps more right than it had ever been. The
familiar stretch of asphalt seemed to shimmer in her peripheral vision, like
heat waves rising from summer pavement, though the night air was cool against
her skin.
She blinked
hard, wondering if exhaustion was playing tricks on her mind. But when she
opened her eyes, an intersection sprawled before her where none had existed
moments before. Four roads met in a perfect cross, each stretching away into
darkness that seemed deeper than the night around her. An old-fashioned street
lamp stood at the center, its yellow glow casting light that felt thick as
honey, pushing back shadows with an authority that defied physics.
Jess stopped
walking entirely, her heart hammering against her ribs. She'd driven this route
dozens of times, had walked portions of it during Derek's sunset picnics. There
had never been a crossroads here. Never.
Yet here it
stood, as solid and real as the gravel beneath her feet, as if it had been
waiting for her all along.
Standing beneath
the lamp was a man.
He was elderly,
perhaps in his seventies, with silver hair slicked back from a face that might
have been handsome once but now carried the weight of too many years and too
many secrets. His suit was impeccably tailored, the kind of expensive clothing
that whispered rather than shouted its quality. Despite the late hour and the
remote location, he appeared completely at ease, as if standing at deserted
crossroads in the middle of the night was the most natural thing in the world.
"Good
evening, my dear," he said as Jess approached, his voice carrying a slight
accent she couldn't quite place. "You seem to be having a rather difficult
night."
Jess hesitated,
every instinct screaming at her to keep walking. Strange men at crossroads in
the middle of the night were the stuff of horror movies and urban legends. But
something about his demeanor—calm, almost grandfatherly—made her pause.
"My
boyfriend left me stranded," she found herself saying, surprised by her
own honesty. "I'm walking home."
"How
terribly ungentlemanly of him." The man's expression conveyed genuine
sympathy, though something flickered in his dark eyes that might have been
amusement. "A young lady should never be abandoned in such circumstances.
Tell me, what would make this situation right? What would you consider...
adequate compensation for such treatment?"
The question
struck her as odd, but the events of the evening had left her feeling reckless.
"I'd want to meet the most handsome man in the world, and then make love
to him love to him," she said, the words tumbling out before she could
stop them. "And I'd want Derek to watch. I'd want him to see what he threw
away, what he'll never have again." She paused, her voice growing harder.
"And then I'd want him thrown into Hell for what he did to me
tonight."
The man's
eyebrows rose, and a peculiar expression, equal parts delighted and impressed,
appeared on his face.
"My dear
girl," he said, "you've just made both the request and defined the
payment in the same breath. How refreshingly efficient."
Before Jess
could ask what he meant, the purr of an engine filled the air. A sleek black
limousine emerged from the darkness, its headlights cutting through the night
as it glided to a stop beside them. The rear door opened with a soft click,
revealing an interior of cream leather and polished wood.
"Shall
we?" the man asked, gesturing toward the open door.
Every rational
part of Jess's mind screamed warnings, but for once, she didn't want to listen
to the voice that had kept her small and safe and miserable. She was tired of
being rational, tired of being careful, tired of being the good girl who always
did what was expected. She thought of Derek's cruel laughter, of two years of
dimming herself to fit his expectations, of all the times she'd swallowed her
words to keep the peace.
No more.
Tonight, she
would choose the unknown over the familiar prison of her old life. Tonight, she
would be dangerous.
She slid into
the limousine, meeting the man's eyes with newfound determination. "Let's
go."
The limousine's
interior was pure seduction—butter-soft leather that seemed to caress her skin,
crystal decanters catching the amber glow of hidden lights. The elderly man
settled beside her with surprisingly fluid motions, and she felt the electric
charge of power radiating from him.
"Where are
we going?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Somewhere
that will fulfill your heart's desire," he replied. "Tell me, have
you ever noticed the mansion on Hillcrest Drive?"
Jess frowned.
"There's no mansion on Hillcrest Drive."
"Just as
you'd never noticed that crossroads before tonight." His smile was
knowing. "Many things exist only when we're ready to see them."
The limousine
crested the hill, and Jess gasped. A magnificent mansion materialized from the
darkness—Gothic spires twisted toward the sky beside Art Deco windows that
gleamed like watchful eyes. The very air around it shimmered with otherworldly
energy.
"How—?"
"You asked
properly," he said as they swept up the circular drive. "And now
you'll receive properly."
The mansion's
doors opened to reveal corridors that seemed to pulse with sensual promise.
Tapestries depicting scenes of passion and power lined the walls, and the air
itself felt thick with anticipation. Every surface seemed designed to awaken
desire—silk that begged to be touched, marble that gleamed like naked skin in
candlelight.
Finally, they
arrived at a set of double doors carved from what appeared to be a single piece
of ebony. The man placed his hand on the handles and paused.
"Beyond
this door, you will find exactly what you asked for," he said. "Are
you certain this is what you want?"
Jess thought of
Derek's hands on her, of his cruel laughter as he'd driven away, of two years
of her life wasted on someone who saw her as nothing more than an obstacle to
his desires. "Yes," she said firmly. "I'm certain."
The doors opened
to reveal a chamber that took her breath away. The room was enormous, with a
vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of angels and demons locked in eternal
battle. Rich tapestries covered the walls, and Persian rugs in deep jewel tones
covered the marble floor. A sitting area near the fireplace featured velvet
chairs and a sofa that looked like it belonged in a royal palace, while against
the far wall stood the most beautiful bed Jess had ever seen. It was massive,
with posts carved from dark wood and curtains of midnight blue silk that seemed
to move with their own breeze.
But none of this
registered fully, because standing near the fireplace was the most magnificent
man she had ever laid eyes upon.
He was tall,
perhaps six and a half feet, with the kind of perfectly proportioned physique
that belonged on classical sculptures. His hair was dark as midnight and fell
in waves to his shoulders, framing a face that seemed to have been crafted by
angels. His features were sharp and aristocratic—high cheekbones, a strong jaw,
and eyes the color of storm clouds that seemed to see straight through to her
soul. He wore a white shirt open at the collar and dark trousers that
emphasized his powerful build, and when he smiled, Jess felt her knees go weak.
"Good
evening," he said, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to resonate in
her chest. "I've been waiting for you."
The elderly man
had vanished, though Jess barely noticed. She was completely captivated by this
vision of masculine perfection who moved toward her with the fluid grace of a
predator. When he took her hand and brought it to his lips, the touch of his
mouth against her skin sent electricity racing through her entire body.
"I'm
Carwyn," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "And you are the most
beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure to meet."
Jess felt
herself blushing like a schoolgirl. After Derek's rough handling and cruel
words, Carwyn's gentle reverence was intoxicating. "I'm Jess," she
managed to say.
"Jess,"
he repeated, as if tasting her name. "Perfect. Would you care for some
wine? You've had a difficult evening, and I'd like to help you forget all about
it."
He led her to
the sitting area, where a bottle of wine that probably cost more than her
monthly salary waited in a silver bucket. As he poured, she found herself
studying his hands—long-fingered and elegant, with the kind of strength that
promised both gentleness and passion.
"Tell me
about yourself," Carwyn said, settling beside her on the sofa. "What
do you do when you're not being mistreated by unworthy men?"
The question
made her laugh, though there was little humor in it. "I work at the
library downtown. I know, not very exciting."
"On the
contrary," Carwyn said, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest.
"Libraries are repositories of human knowledge and dreams. You're
surrounded by every story ever told, every piece of wisdom ever recorded. That
sounds quite exciting to me."
When was the
last time Derek had shown interest in her work? She couldn't remember him ever
asking about her day, let alone listening to her answer with such focused
attention.
"What about
you?" she asked. "What do you do?"
Carwyn smiled
mysteriously. "I help people get what they truly desire. It's more
fulfilling than you might imagine."
They talked as
the wine flowed through her veins like liquid fire, each sip making her more
aware of Carwyn's presence. His voice was hypnotic, the way he leaned closer
when she spoke making her breath catch. When he asked about her dreams, his
fingers traced lazy patterns on her wrist that sent shivers racing up her arm.
"I write
poetry," she confessed, the wine making her bold. "Secret things.
About desire and longing and feeling trapped."
"Recite
something for me," he murmured, his storm-gray eyes never leaving hers.
She found
herself speaking words she'd never shared with anyone, verses about aching need
and unfulfilled hunger. As she spoke, Carwyn's hand moved higher, caressing her
forearm with touches that made her skin burn. When she finished, his thumb
traced the sensitive inside of her wrist.
"You have
the soul of a poet," he said, his voice dropping to a rumble that seemed
to vibrate through her bones. "And the presence of a goddess. Any man who
can't see that deserves to burn."
The touch of his
skin against hers was electric, awakening nerve endings she'd never known
existed. Derek's fumbling attempts at romance felt like children's games
compared to this—Carwyn seemed to know exactly where to touch, how much
pressure to apply, how to make her body sing without even trying.
"I want
you," she whispered, surprised by her own boldness. The words felt like a
declaration of war against every constraint Derek had placed on her, every
moment she'd made herself smaller to accommodate his insecurities.
Carwyn's eyes
darkened with desire, but his voice remained gentle. "Are you certain? I
don't want you to do anything you might regret."
She thought of
all the nights she'd pulled away from Derek's fumbling advances, not because
she didn't want intimacy, but because she'd craved something sacred, something
that honored the magnitude of giving herself completely. Here, finally, was
someone who understood that her body was a temple, not a convenience store.
"I've never
been more certain of anything," she breathed.
In response, she
leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, and when he kissed
her back, she felt like she was drowning in sensation. His arms came around
her, pulling her closer, and she could feel the strength in his embrace, the
barely controlled passion that threatened to overwhelm them both.
"Yes,"
she breathed against his mouth. "I'm certain."
Carwyn stood and
extended his hand to her. "Then come with me."
He led her to
the magnificent bed, and with reverent hands, he began to undress her. Each
piece of clothing that fell away was accompanied by kisses and caresses that
set her skin on fire. He worshipped her body as if she were a goddess, his
touch both tender and passionate, building her desire to heights she'd never
imagined possible.
He led her to
the magnificent bed, and with reverent hands, he began to undress her. Each
piece of clothing that fell away was accompanied by kisses and caresses that
set her skin on fire. He worshipped her body as if she were a goddess, his
touch both tender and passionate, building her desire to heights she'd never
imagined possible.
It was then that
the doors burst open.
Two large men in
expensive suits dragged Derek into the chamber, his hands bound behind his back
and a gag in his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror, and he struggled
against his captors with desperate strength. They forced him into a chair that
had appeared near the foot of the bed, binding him securely before removing his
gag.
"What the
hell is this?" Derek gasped, his voice high with panic. Then his eyes
found Jess on the bed, and for just a moment, something that might have been
genuine anguish flickered across his face. "Jess, Jesus Christ, what's
going on? Who are these people?" His voice cracked slightly. "Look, I
know I was an asshole tonight, okay? I know I left you out there and that
was... that was really fucked up. But this—whatever this is—"
He looked around
the supernatural chamber, at the impossible architecture, at Carwyn's
otherworldly beauty, and Jess could see the exact moment when his mind tried to
process what he was witnessing. The Derek she knew—the one who mocked anything
he couldn't understand, who dismissed her poetry as "weird shit"—was
suddenly confronted with something far beyond his comprehension.
"This isn't
real," he whispered, and for the first time since she'd known him, he
sounded small. Frightened.
Jess felt a
moment of shock, but it was quickly replaced by a fierce satisfaction. Here was
Derek, the man who had humiliated her and abandoned her, forced to watch as she
experienced pleasure beyond his ability to provide.
"This is
what you threw away," she said, her voice steady despite her nakedness.
"This is what you'll never have."
Carwyn's hands
continued their exploration of her body, and she moaned with pleasure, her eyes
never leaving Derek's face. She could see the jealousy and rage warring with
fear in his expression, and it only heightened her arousal.
"Please,"
Derek begged, struggling against his bonds. "Jess, don't do this. I'm
sorry about tonight. I was angry, I didn't mean—"
"You meant
every word," Jess cut him off, gasping as Carwyn's mouth found a
particularly sensitive spot on her neck. "You showed me exactly who you
are, Derek. And now I'm showing you who I am."
Carwyn lifted
her onto the bed, his powerful body covering hers as he kissed her with a
hunger that made her forget everything else. His hands roamed her body with
reverent passion, finding every sensitive spot, every place that made her gasp
and arch beneath him. When his mouth followed the path his hands had traced,
she cried out with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
His tongue and
lips creating sensations that had her writhing against the silk sheets. When he
finally claimed her, filling her completely, she felt something inside her
shatter and rebuild itself stronger. They moved together in perfect rhythm, his
thrusts deep and powerful, each one sending waves of ecstasy through her
trembling body.
"Look at
me," he commanded, his voice rough with desire, and when their eyes
locked, she felt the connection between them deepen beyond the physical. He
took her to heights she'd never imagined possible, her body responding to his
with an abandon that shocked her. She climaxed with a force that left her
screaming his name, her nails raking down his back as pleasure consumed her
entirely.
But he wasn't
finished. He positioned her on her hands and knees, his hands gripping her hips
as he took her from behind with an intensity that made her sob with pleasure.
Each thrust sent shockwaves through her oversensitized body, building toward
another peak that seemed impossible. When it crashed over her, she felt herself
dissolving into pure sensation, her body convulsing around him as he found his
own release with a roar that echoed through the chamber.
Through it all,
Derek was forced to watch, his pleas and curses providing a soundtrack to their
passion. She could see the tears streaming down his face, could hear the
desperation in his voice as he begged her to stop, to come back to him, to
forgive him. But his words only fueled her desire, each sob and plea a
vindication of her choice.
Carwyn was
tireless, his stamina seemingly endless as he brought her to peak after peak of
pleasure. When she thought she couldn't take any more, he would find new ways
to drive her wild, new positions that sent her spiraling into ecstasy. She lost
count of how many times she climaxed, lost track of time itself as they moved
together in perfect harmony.
Finally, as dawn
light began to filter through the windows, they collapsed together in
exhaustion, their bodies slick with sweat and trembling with the aftershocks of
their passion. Jess had never felt so satisfied, so complete, so utterly
fulfilled.
It was then that
the floor began to crack.
The marble split
with sounds like thunder, and sulfurous smoke poured through the fissures.
Derek's screams reached a new pitch of terror as creatures began to emerge from
the depths—demons with burning eyes and claws like razors, their forms shifting
between human and beast as they climbed into the chamber.
"No!"
Derek shrieked, struggling frantically against his bonds as the demons
surrounded his chair. "This isn't real! This can't be happening!"
But it was
happening. The demons seized him with claws that left smoking wounds on his
skin, their laughter like the sound of breaking glass. They lifted him from the
chair, ignoring his pleas and screams as they began to drag him toward the
gaping hole in the floor.
"Jess!"
he cried out one last time, his voice breaking with desperation. "Please!
I love you! Don't let them take me!"
She watched with
cold satisfaction as the demons pulled him down into the fiery depths, his
screams echoing long after he disappeared from sight. The floor sealed itself
as if it had never been broken, leaving only the faint scent of sulfur to prove
what had occurred.
"Well done,
my dear."
Jess turned to
find the elderly man standing beside the bed, his expression one of genuine
admiration. Carwyn had vanished as silently as he had appeared, leaving her
alone with her mysterious benefactor.
"That was
quite a performance," the man continued, offering her a silk robe that she
gratefully accepted. "You have a natural talent for this sort of
thing."
"What
happens now?" Jess asked, surprised by how calm she felt. She should have
been horrified by what she'd witnessed, traumatized by the supernatural events
that had unfolded. Instead, she felt oddly peaceful, as if a great weight had
been lifted from her shoulders.
"Now, my
dear, you return to your life," the man said with a smile. "The
limousine is waiting to take you wherever you'd like to go. Your purse and
phone are in the back seat—retrieved from that unfortunate young man's vehicle
before his... departure."
Jess nodded,
wrapping the robe more tightly around herself. "Will I see you
again?"
"Perhaps,"
the man said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "If you ever find yourself
at another crossroads, in need of another favor. Though I suspect you'll find
your life much more satisfying from now on."
With that, he
stepped away to allow her to get dressed.
As they walked
back through the mansion's corridors, Jess noticed that the artwork and
treasures seemed different now, as if the building itself was shifting and
changing around them. By the time they reached the front door, she was no
longer certain she could find her way back to that magnificent chamber even if
she tried.
The limousine
waited in the circular drive, its engine purring softly in the pre-dawn quiet.
As promised, her purse and phone were on the back seat, along with a small
velvet box that hadn't been there before.
"A token of
appreciation," the man explained when she looked at him questioningly.
"And a tool for your new life."
Inside the box
was a ring unlike anything she'd ever seen—a band of white gold set with a
stone that seemed to contain swirling galaxies within its depths. Ancient
symbols were etched along the band, pulsing with their own inner light. When
she slipped it onto her finger, it fit perfectly, and she felt a surge of power
that made her gasp. The ring grew warm against her skin, and she could feel it
bonding with her, becoming part of her very essence.
"What does
it do?" she asked, flexing her fingers as energy coursed through her.
"It's a
conduit for your true power," the man replied, his eyes gleaming with
satisfaction. "You'll find that men who try to control or harm you will...
encounter difficulties. The ring reads souls, you see—it knows the difference
between clumsy expressions attraction and predatory intent. It protects those
who've been marked by my favor. But more than that—it amplifies your natural
magnetism, your ability to inspire both desire and fear. You'll never again be
powerless, my dear."
As if to
demonstrate, the ring pulsed with warmth, and Jess felt something fundamental
shift within her. She was no longer the timid librarian who'd been abandoned on
a dark road. She was something new, something dangerous and beautiful and free.
With a nod and a
warm smile, the old man closed the door to the limo, and it pulled away from
the house. When Jess looked back toward the mansion, she saw only empty fields
and the old Morrison farmhouse, exactly as they had always been. Even the old
man was nowhere to be seen.
The limousine
drove down the winding roads from the hills and then through the empty streets
of town as the sun began to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
"Where
would you like me to drop you off, miss?" the driver asked without taking
his eyes off the street ahead, his voice professionally neutral despite the
unusual circumstances.
Jess considered
her options. She could go home, crawl into bed, and pretend this had all been
an elaborate dream. She could return to her quiet life at the library, her
small apartment, her predictable routine. Or she could embrace the change that
had been awakened within her, the power that now flowed through her veins like
liquid fire.
"Take me to
the airport," she said finally, surprising herself with the decision.
"I think it's time I saw the world."
As the limousine
carried her toward her new life, Jess fingered the ring on her hand and smiled.
Derek was gone, banished to whatever Hell awaited men who treated women as
objects to be used and discarded. Carwyn had shown her pleasures beyond
imagination, awakening desires she'd never known she possessed. And the
mysterious man at the crossroads had given her the power to ensure she would
never again settle for less than she deserved.
The sun climbed
higher in the sky, burning away the last shadows of the night. Somewhere behind
them, at a crossroads that existed only when needed, an old man in an expensive
suit smiled and began walking toward his next appointment. After all, there were
always people in need of his particular services, always souls willing to make
bargains at the intersection of desire and desperation.
And sometimes,
just sometimes, everyone got exactly what they deserved.
--
The Ring of the Crossroads (OGL d20 System rules)This rare magic item is gifted by the Man at the Crossroads to exceptional individuals he had dealt with. It is a ring made of white gold with a set gem that seems to glitter with several colors and if studied closely appears to contain swirling galaxies. The band is inscribed, both on the outer and inner sides of the band, with mysterious symbols that match no known language or magic system. If read magic or read languages spells are used in an attempt to determine what the symbols mean, the caster sees there's a meaning to them, but that meaning remains beyond his or her ability to understand. If any number of clerical spells is used to decipher the symbols, the caster is informed that knowledge is the pervue of the gods and that the ring should be deposited in a church or temple as soon as possible; it is not for mortals to possess. If studied with detect magic, the ring radiates a strong mixture of Divination, Enchantment, and Transmutation magics.
Functions: Once a ring of the crossroads has been claimed and worn by the person it was gifted to, it becomes attuned to that person. It cannot be removed from the owner's finger by anyone but the owner him-or herself.
As soon as the character puts on the ring, he or she gains a +6 bonus to all Sense Motive skill checks. His or her Dexterity, Wisdom, and Charisma attributes all increase by 2 points. The character also gains an aura of protection that causes anyone who successfully attacks him or her to suffer twice the damage inflicted (Fortitude save DC13 for half).
If anyone steals or loots the right and then tries to wear it, he or she immediately suffers 2d4 fire damage (Fortitude save DC13) that bursts from the ring. The finger the ring was placed on is completely incinerated.
If a character to whom the ring was regifted or sold wears it, nothing happens. In fact, if the ring isnt returned to its original owner or the Man at the Crossroads within three days (72 hours for acquisition, the ring fades away over the nxt hour.
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