Before I was taken away from my entire life, I had been working on counting my blessings. Even if times are hard, look for tiny blessings in your day. Say that green light hits just as you get to the intersection, or maybe ramen is on sale at Shop Rite so you can afford your favorite box wine, or maybe, when you've been soul-kidnapped into some other psyker lady's body into a universe where Wizard of Oz and Warhammer 40k entwine in an unholy union, at least no one starts singing show tunes when you're suffering from PTSD from the whole situation? I count my blessings, and you should too. Keep hope alive, and you too can have a healthy outlook on life.

When "Glinda" (the Changeling) waved "her" wand, the smoke in the blasted area began to thin, I could finally see that the daemon and I had an audience. The first person my eyes found was an old man with metal horns dressed in a skin tight suit made out of skin, emblazoned with symbols of Slaanesh and Chaos. Next, a wiry woman who would be well at home in a meth house and a dwarf commune appeared out from behind a smoldering tree stump, a metal hand injecting some kind of substance into her blood as she deliriously advanced toward us both, licking her lips as she walked. Another man, middle aged, orange skinned, and covered in lurid tattoos wore a comical green Elizabethan formal suit. His hair was spiked out from his scalp, and made him look like a giant human carrot; he also wore symbols of Slaanesh on his coat. This fellow seemed at least somewhat sober as he walked, sniffing the air like an animal. The one thing these individuals had in common was that each one, on some part of their body, had at least one kind of mechanical modification, usually on the head. The carrot guy had some kind of eye implant, which magnified his left eye under a thick lens while projecting a harmless beam of light wherever he looked. These people looked as if the Borg from Star Trek had assimilated Burning Man, and the weirdness of the whole spectacle set me even more off balance than I already was.

"Come out, come out, children of Golwyn, and see the young lady, who dwells in this skin!" The Changeling sang out. I guess I had spoken too soon.

"She fell from the Warp, she fell without sin, and Jersey she says was her home there within!"

The villagers, glassy eyed and delirious, then repeated,

"Jersey she says was her home there within!" Oh, no. This can't be happening, I thought.

"She brings you good news, or haven't you heard? When she fell out of Jersey a miracle occurred!"

I wasn't going to fucking sing along here, but I did feel the urge to correct these cultists. The last thing I needed was a group of Slaaneshi cultists worshipping me when I had nothing to do with this.

"Look, guys. It-it wasn't a miracle. Someone poisoned me, and I woke up in this body. If the woman you see before you was a witch and was cursing you folks, I'm sorry about that, but I'm not her. I'm from somewhere else," I said, holding my hands out. I held back that I came from what they would call "Terra" since that would cause even more problems.

Way to ruin the rhythm, killjoy! the Changeling scoffed at me with telepathy, continuing to summon gusts of wind that revealed more of the landscape. The cultists didn't seem to care that I didn't sing, and simply began cheering. The original owner of this body had apparently indeed caused them a lot of trouble, and they were greatly relieved that she was "gone".

Through the growing noise, I heard the Changeling laugh, "Let the joyous news be spread, the wicked Tzeentch witch at last has fled!" which resulted in a high cheer rising through the crowd.

The Changeling handled the scene with style, and fluttered between each ragged individual, waving her wand dramatically without it actually doing anything, or at least nothing that I could see. She twirled and danced joyously as more and more strange people began to wander out from their hidden places among the landscape. As some of these strange hippie Borg people came close to me, I found myself wishing that she was near again, since I didn't really want to know how a group of Chaos cultists would show their gratitude toward anyone. Despite this, none of them moved to touch me, lost in their revelry.

As the smoke began to clear further, and more party goers emerged, I saw that their homes were ramshackle huts, old brick buildings, and other derelict structures leaning on one another as if crippled by existence. Some were blackened by fire, and damaged by what appeared to be wind. Must have been one hell of a storm when I came through, I thought. Consistent to their Slaaneshi cultist origins, each building was painted garish colors, and held strange marks written in ambiguous media. The buildings seemed to follow a radial pattern, all pointing toward something near the center of their settlement. Evanora's manor was apparently on the very far side of this land, but still close enough to be an irritating presence to the cultists. Why the witch and the cultists had chosen to live so closely together was a mystery.

I stood watching the whole scene, not truly believing it. I hadn't quite digested that all of this was still happening. Wolfie stood at my feet, watching the whole scene while cocking his head in confusion. I get it, buddy, I thought. This is some weird shit.

As the villagers cheered, danced, and sang with no pattern or reason, I noticed a pull at my shirt. Looking down, I discovered a small girl, only about five or six years old, wearing a white dress, and having two bionic eyes in place of her own. Unlike every other thing here aside from Wolfie and I, she wasn't singing or happy, and she motioned me to lean down, as if she had a secret. I didn't lean down, but I was still able to barely understand the hush of her tiny voice over the din of the chaos around me. Wolfie did not move to her, nor did he react to her being there at all.

"Ll-leave...g-g-go... d-d-anger," she spat out in an entirely artificial voice as if she were a glitching computer. "N-north..p-p-t-ower...north...r-r-road. Fol-looolow-t-t-he..."

I finally knelt down, concerned. "Sweetheart? What is it? What are you trying to say?" I asked near her ear, so that I would be heard.

The little bionic child continued to look up at me. Her expression was blank, and I noticed that she was utterly still, without even breathing. I went to touch her shoulder, and was met with an electric shock. The shock knocked the girl to the ground, and burnt the tips of my fingers. I stood up, looking for a parent or anyone responsible in this mess. Much to my surprise, the girl nearly instantly sprang back up, blinked, and walked away into the crowd, unharmed and unbothered by the bizarre encounter. I soon lost sight of her in the mass of people.

Disquieted, I shivered. The Changeling was still prancing between the villagers, and was now conjuring flowers and fairy lights to beautify the situation, which the villagers picked up in wonderment. The thinning smoke began to finally reveal a large shape in the center of their settlement, one I could not see before. Whatever it was, it was ringed by a space of empty cobblestone ground about fifty yards wide. This appeared to be where all the buildings were facing.

I mistook the shape for a natural feature of the landscape for a moment, like perhaps a cluster of very tall trees, or perhaps maybe this was one of the "black towers" I had read about. As it came into focus, I saw what appeared to be the side of a massive golden foot, covered in a similarly gilded robe. The rest of the structure reached vertically into the sky, still obscured by smoke. A few villagers were bowing and seemed to be treating this figure with reverence as they sang and cheered. These folks had an idol, it seemed.

As I attempted to figure out what this huge statue was, a slender woman with another bionic eye placed a ring of flowers on my head. I flinched at the sudden contact, but she was not deterred, and put a hand on my cheek. "You're the Chosen One! How lucky you are!" Around me, I swore I could hear other villagers chant the words "lucky...lucky...lucky..." as they danced and celebrated around me, almost as if they echoed what the first woman said. A sense of foreboding alighted around me like the thin layer of ash on the ground. Wolfie seemed to agree; the astral hound had started to bristle at my feet.

My sense of impending danger directed me toward the center of town again, and toward the grand golden statue. The villagers were now joining hands and dancing merrily around it. It was so big I could not see exactly how wide it was just yet, as banks of dark smoke continued to roll through the scene. The Changeling was still occupying herself with clearing the smoke and conjuring flowers for the villagers to enjoy. The daemon seemed to think this was one fun party.

The golden statue continued to focus into view as the smoke finally started to gradually reveal bits of blue sky, clearing the air with fresh wind. Not only was it gold, but it was finely sculpted. I could now see that I was facing the back and left side of a statue of a woman wearing a robe with one hand holding a something to her chest, and the other, holding a item above her head, which was still shrouded in lingering smoke. The whole thing was gold, and it had an incredible presence as I took it in.

"Impressive, isn't it!" I heard a familiar cheeky female voice behind me, and my skin prickled as the Changeling leaned over my shoulder to talk right into my ear. Reflexively, I jumped, but the daemon remained where she was, giggling. "It took generations to build. It is the subject of reverence, and is known to all on Levant!"

It was impressive, but I was growing more concerned with the mad villagers around me. More mecha-hippie cultists were gathering around the statue, chanting something I didn't recognize in dissonant tones. "What's wrong with these people uh... Glinda?"

"What isn't wrong with these people?" she laughed quietly. The daemon's smile let me know that she was still finding all of this very funny. "Oh, have a sense of humor! These folks are the lost tribe the Lord of Hosts, a group of settlers from another world who lost their beloved god, but some of them came here, and found the god still standing, still alive! It is said that the builders had a vision to build on this very spot, on this very planet, even one as severed from the Warp as this one!"

"They worship this thing?" I asked.

"It whispers to them meager dreams in this Warp-starved place, chained inside the statue, both protecting it and imprisoning it. The presence of the black towers on this world sequesters it from the Great Ocean most of the time. A terrible crime!" The daemon made a gesture with her wand, motioning it toward herself. "As I mentioned earlier, yours truly could never hope to normally manifest here, but when you came through, not only did you banish their enemy, but you brought magic back! Those nasty towers aren't suppressing anything now, and the people here rejoice, finally able to be with their god!"

That really didn't make me feel better at all, I thought.

"The statue... it's got a daemon?" I hesitantly asked her, my heart jumping into my throat as I gazed up at the colossus, but the Changeling had already danced away, singing a dramatic song with the maddened villagers that somewhat resembled a thrash metal version of "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead."

Come back! I telepathically yelled at the daemon as it frolicked around while Wolfie and I both cowered in the center of a growing ring of cultists.

You're doing great, sweetie! She yelled back to me while conjuring more flowers on the blasted ground for the crazy people to enjoy. Fuck.

The statue was shining brilliant gold in the clearing sky now, but something felt both familiar and extraordinarily evil here. What was this thing? My knowledge of lore wasn't helping me here, so, cautiously, I tried to "push" a little into the statue, seeing if my abilities would help me out. Almost immediately, I regretted that decision. I saw in my mind's eye a wicked androgynous face wearing a spiked halo. It felt as if it was looking back at me. I then heard I SEE YOU scream through me, even though no audible voice was heard. I desperately pulled back, and wretched on the ground. That was stupid of me; I knew better than to do that. I should probably get the hell out of here!

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw one individual, an older man with spiky metal implants around his cheek, draw a something sharp across his throat, and a wave of crimson fell forth. Before I could focus on what had happened (and if it had actually really happened), I was taken into a line of dancing villagers, who all continued to sing and skip.

"The Chosen One! The Chosen One! The Lamb! Behold, The Lamb!" They sang out as I was taken in each hand by two villagers, who had formed a line. I was too overwhelmed to really do anything about this instantly, and when I looked again for the man, he didn't seem to be there, so maybe I was just seeing things. When I looked for Wolfie, I could not see him. Where had he gone?!

I was now in a line of prancing, mechanically modified Chaos cultists which became larger as still more people joined us. I was dragged forward in the line of wild dancing around the statue in a ring. As the mad group of dancers pulled, I was led around to the front of the statue, where I immediately had my questions answered.

The golden colossus was an androgynous woman with a crown of spikes. She wasn't holding a book, but tablets. In her right hand, she held a torch up to the sky. She was easily as tall as a skyscraper, and the reflective gold encasing her entire form made her difficult to look at directly. With terrible horror, I realized that I definitely recognized the figure, but not from my knowledge of Warhammer 40k lore.

In both my mind and the villagers voices, I heard an unnatural voice wail out in ecstasy, further heightening the horror of my realization. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore."

It was an enormous golden Statue of Liberty! One that apparently housed a daemon! Why? How?! I pulled myself out of the dancing line of villagers, trying to get away, only to be grabbed by two more people, whose grips were like vices. The Changeling was nowhere to be found, and I was being helplessly dragged along now. Close by, I saw another person, this time, the carrot man I had seen before, pull a line across his throat, spilling bright red blood in a torrent on the ground with an expression of utter bliss. And another, and another...