The Secrets of Wilderfort Castle: All Things Change.: The Wilderfort series, #3

By Jessica Jayne Webb

Charles returns with a singular focus - his heart is set on one thing, while Agatha is all but undone in all her sensibilities.
But, it is still a race against time, and the crew's journey is far from over. As the crew find Alfred is further developing his powers it proves crucial, that they venture into a prison realm to reacquaint Alfred with his enigmatic and sinister mother. Searching for answers for Oxxy, finding out what Hesiss really is, and the history that haunts the crew about Caspian which intertwines with one of the lovers.
With tensions rising and stakes higher than ever, the crew must unite one final time to bring the war to a close,restore peace to Wilderfort and determine whether the lovers can finally find their happily ever after?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Jayne Webb
• Release date: May 9, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231745852

Book preview

Chapter 1: His return

Charles was grimy beyond belief as he stood behind Agatha, though his skin, pressed against her back, was cool to the touch.

I’m too scared to turn around, Agatha whispered. The commotion of the unexpected escapee had not even registered as Charles encased her in his arms, now healed and strong.

I can’t be proper with you anymore, Agatha, and I can’t wait any longer. I’m in love with you, Charles stated as he turned her toward him. He brushed her long white hair out of her face, held her chin, and gently tilted her face up to his. Hesitantly, he smiled as he traced a finger over her lips.

Agatha whispered to herself, It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.

I’m real, I’m here. And, my love, I’m filthy. Come and have a bath with me. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second-guessing. That certainty made Agatha open her eyes to him. He smiled a gorgeous smile, one only she knew was filled with love for her.

She held his hand as they walked out together, isolated by their obsessive, knowing stare—both understanding what needed to come next.

---

A few days later...

A stifled giggle crept out of Agatha as Charles kissed her thighs after another round of jaw-clenching pleasure that left her jittery. The creamy blankets billowed above them as Charles moved up and pulled Agatha closer, his arms wrapped around her waist. They were tangled in each other, naked, in their bed.

I’m never going to quench my thirst for you, my gorgeous lady. Charles moved down and licked her nipple, sending a shiver down her spine.

You know, he murmured, another bath would do wonders to help us start the day. He pulled the blanket back from his head as he slid himself up to her face for another kiss, she responded smirking as her swollen lips moved over his again. Agatha could feel him growing between her legs again. She couldn’t help the drawn-out ache in her lower stomach as he brushed her messy hair behind her ear.

Agatha shivered as she felt Charles’s soft lips trail across her chin, moving slowly to her throat and then to her earlobe. I think our morning needs something more to wake us up, he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. Agatha was lost for words, her heart pounding as his hands gently brushed against her legs. She instinctively wrapped them around his waist, pulling herself to him, feeling the closeness between them.

A low growl escaped Charles’s throat, and Agatha felt a flutter of excitement as he wrapped his arms around her brushing her back. She sighed softly, her body responding to the warmth and the pressure of his touch. Then they moved together, slotting back into their intimate position slowly at first, with every movement a touch building the connection between them. Agatha closed her eyes, feeling every inch of the moment as they shared in the rhythm of their breaths.

The soft sheets beneath her tangled in her fingers as she clutched them, trying to steady herself. She arched her back slightly, feeling the depth of their closeness as he brushed his hand down the curve of her chest. She gasped softly as their movements became deeper, more intense, yet tender. With every motion, a sense of longing built inside her, and she felt a warm shiver of pleasure that spread through her.

She reached up, her hand trembling as it traced down the length of his chest, over his stomach. Her fingers brushed against the hard muscles beneath his skin, and she let out a soft breath, that she didn’t realise she had been holding. Her body responding to the pull of desire, their movements became synchronized, the connection between them palpable, and as Agatha who had reached for the blankets again let go as she ran her nails gently down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her touch.

The room seemed to fade around them as they moved together, their pace slow but steady, building with each passing moment. Agatha’s heart raced as she felt the depth of their bond, the trust and connection that held them together in this shared space. She bit her lip, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, the world outside seemed far away. Everything was just them, in this shared quiet intimacy.

Charles shifted, carefully adjusting their position so that she was closer, and Agatha felt her body respond to him, her legs moving in time with his as they moved together. His breath hitched slightly, a soft sound of pleasure escaping him as he held her, each motion making her body respond, needing him to remain close. Her heart raced, and she felt the heat of her emotions building. Her release was simultaneous to his, mind-numbing bliss spread through her body, as the roaring rush of wind in her ears began to slow, their breathing almost in sync. Agatha arched into him, a breathless moan escaped her lips as he bent down kissing the rest of her moan away.

The movement as it slowed was rhythmic, steady, She looked into his eyes as he thrust a final time, the tenderness in each making her skin tingle with anticipation, each touch making her feel safe, wanted, and loved. Agatha’s hand reached up, tracing his jawline gently before running down to rest on his shoulder. Her fingers lingered there, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath her fingertips. She pressed her lips against his neck, and his body shuddered in response, his breath a soft whisper against her ear.

Was this okay? Charles asked, his voice soft, almost tentative as if checking that she was still comfortable with their closeness.

Agatha nodded, unable to speak, her heart raced again. She felt a gentle pull as he shifted again, separating briefly, his movements now more deliberate as he adjusted to bring them back together, closer. She felt the warmth of his body surrounding her, the way their movements had synced so naturally that she couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. Every touch, every moment felt like it was part of something larger than just the two of them; it was a bond, a connection that transcended everything else.

Lying there, Agatha felt a sense of peace settle over her, with the calming of her heart as though everything was exactly where it was meant to be. She closed her eyes, her mind filling with the feeling of being held, of being cherished. The world outside disappeared, leaving only them in this quiet, shared space.

Charles smiled down at her, his eyes soft with affection. You know, he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face, you make everything feel so much more alive. Agatha couldn’t help but smile in return, her heart swelling with love.

She smiled up at him, her lips slightly parted as she tried to calm her racing thoughts, reliving their morning together. Her stomach gave a little growl, breaking the quiet moment. Charles laughed softly, brushing his lips against her forehead. I guess we're both awake now, he teased, his voice filled with warmth.

Agatha smiled at him, feeling the warmth of their shared intimacy and the joy of simply being together. She kissed him softly, a slow, tender kiss that conveyed everything she felt without needing words. It was a kiss that held the promise of so much more, but for now, it was enough. Just being here, in this moment, with him.

Charles, I swear, if we carry on like this, we’ll be ravenous. I need to eat. How is it that you’re not hungry?

He gave her a wicked glance. Maybe we can bring some food back here to keep us going. He slid her a sideways look from beneath his thick, luscious brown hair with blonde tips. A small smirk tugged at her lips as he lay back down. His torso, tanned to match the rest of his body, rippled with lean muscle, still taut from their carnal indulgence. She stroked his chest, still cool to the touch—something she made a mental note to ask about later.

Agatha contemplated his request and then groaned. Oh, I want to, believe me. But we have roles, jobs, and well—

She kissed Charles and slid off the bed, the numbness from their lovemaking fading to a slight tingling as she moved to stand. Grabbing the sheet, she wrapped it around herself. She turned and bit her lip, willing him to read her mind.

Charles propped himself up on one elbow, loosely covering the lower half of his body. Ah yes, our social predicament. He smiled broadly, drinking her in. She was tall and slender, her long white hair falling in waves to her waist. Her wiry muscles were defined, her lightly tanned face glowing. He licked his lips. Well, we’ll have to sort that out, won’t we, my beautiful woman?

Charles lunged forward, grabbing Agatha. A peal of high-pitched shrieks cascaded from her lips as he pulled her toward the bed, burying his face into her side.

Giggling, she responded, I love this new side to us, but we really must get dressed, or we never will! I don’t want to get grumpy because I’m hungry. I’ve missed you too much to be grumpy with you.

Charles released Agatha, and she slowly stood, tugging the sheets away from him. He starfished on the bed and let out a dramatic sigh as Agatha moved to the dresser.

A gasp escaped her lips. Oh, Charles, I am a mess! She pulled at her hair. What do I do with this?

Charles rolled off the bed, slid into his trousers, and moved toward her. Bending down, he ran his lips lightly over her neck, sending another shiver down her spine.

You are beautiful in all your mess, a goddess in my eyes. But it means I really should be proper, especially with where we are now. Can you give me a few days to get something together?

Agatha looked at him quizzically. Of course. But I’m not sure what you mean.

He met her gaze in the mirror with a sly smile, then kissed her forehead. He grabbed his crumpled shirt and jacket, scuffed on his shoes, and moved to the bedroom door. See you down in the chaos, my love. Grinning once more, he ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it out, then slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Agatha glanced back at the mirror and harrumphed at her reflection. She needed to be quick—it wasn’t fair to leave Charles to face the onslaught of the crew and the villagers alone.

Oh my gosh, the villagers! How easily she had forgotten them in the haze of lovemaking and newfound desire.

Clearing her throat, she moved to the bathing area and ran a hot bath—just a quick rinse to wash away the remnants of the last few days. She dressed simply, matching her mood. The depths of her lust were still not quenched; she couldn’t forget the places her fingers had touched him, the places her lips had kissed, and licked. She couldn’t help herself.

When she had seen Charles come back through the dimension door, when she had felt him slide behind her as she closed it, all the lessons from her aunt, all the warnings about men, had vanished the moment he touched her.

Then came the memory of washing him in the bath, climbing in fully dressed just to feel his skin, to touch his hair, his chest, his lips. She needed to close the gap between them. When she had stepped into the water, he had rushed for her, grabbing her waist and pulling her close.

I can never be that far away from you again. It almost broke me, he had whispered.

The memory made her ache all over again. They had given each other so much, but it wasn’t enough. She craved him still.

Biting her lip, she quickly did up her hair. If she stayed in these memories any longer, her thirst for him would become unbearable—and she was alone. That was not good enough.

Determined, Agatha maneuvered her way down into the bustling kitchen.

She spotted Charles near the oven, hunched over and talking closely with Fervor. The look of concern on both their faces made her pause.

Before she could backtrack, Fervor pointed toward her with a wide grin.

Ahhh, our wandering leader hath returned! Which mounds have you been conquering lately?

Before he could laugh, however, a large wooden spoon came hurtling through the room, splintering on impact against the side of his head.

An almighty howl left his lips as everyone in the vicinity turned toward none other than Variwen, the self-elected camp mother of the rubble. A 400-year-old witch with the capability to change herself into anything she desired—young or old.

Today, however, she was brandishing her favorite red witch persona: fiery red hair, dress, and nails to match.

Fervor, realizing it was Variwen, slumped back into his seat, tentatively rubbing his head. You know I was referring to the chalk cliffs, Variwen, he moaned.

Variwen glared at him so pointedly that anyone else would have melted under her gaze. Fervor, however, got up, looked at the ground, and slowly walked over to her. He hugged her as she stiffened.

I love you too, Mum, he said.

Variwen quickly ducked out of the hug, though her glare softened. Looking back at Fervor, he held out his hand, growing a single beautiful flower in his palm.

Points for trying, my dear, Variwen said as she gently plucked the flower, smelled it, then slid it behind her ear with a wink. But you still need to remember time and place. She spread her arms in a slow arc, motioning to the villagers watching the exchange.

If wood could blush, Fervor showed a great effort of trying. As a forest daemon with bark-like features, he skulked back to his chair beside Charles, offering a sheepish grin.

Variwen, busying herself with the meal, ladled lumpy stew into bowls. When Alfred arrived, she motioned for them all to gather at the dining table.

Agatha took a seat beside Charles.

Now that we have most of our members here, Variwen announced, we need to find a place to discuss our planning. This growing unrest is not going away. And although our lovely leader—she smirked at Agatha—has been entertaining a return guest, we need to set things in place.

Alfred snickered but stopped abruptly when Variwen flicked her gaze toward him.

So nice of you to join, my dear. Perhaps you might like to chat with your mother. I think she’d enjoy lending a hand in some bloodshed—what do you think?

Alfred froze, momentarily stunned, before recovering. He lowered himself into his seat.

Mother might like the bloodshed, Variwen, but how many of ours do we want to lose as well? She won’t care whose side she’s on; she’ll just want the blood. Maybe some meat. A bit of ripping. Or she might smell the kids...

His voice trailed off as an empty kind of dread washed over his face. His eyes remained unfocused as he spoke again.

Perhaps we should go back to the library for our meetings. The Fey like to be kept informed anyway. Or we could meet them in the forest to discuss—

He snapped back to the present, grabbing his bowl and shoveling food into his mouth to silence himself.

Let’s head to the library after breakfast. All agreed? Charles cut in.

The group murmured in agreement, collecting their bowls. But Charles only took tea, stirring it absentmindedly.

Agatha frowned. You’re not eating?

It’s alright, darling. I ate before you came down, he said with a smile.

Fervor, however, only frowned into his bowl.

Chapter 2 – Oxxy

After returning from the Fey village, Oxxy remained unconscious. The crew was none the wiser as to whether the ritual had been successful in restoring the Oxxy they all knew and loved.

Before heading to the library, Ants couldn’t resist stopping by his shared room with Oxxy. His friend lay tied to the bed—not as a prisoner, but as a precaution, ensuring that whatever woke up was truly their Oxxy.

Hey, Oxxy, how are you doing, my friend? Ants spoke softly, settling onto the edge of the bed.

Oxxy stirred at the sound of his voice, his eyes fluttering open slightly. Where am I? he rasped, blinking against the dim light. He tried to move, but his hands were restrained. He tugged against the bindings with mild confusion.

Ants frowned. Is it you, Oxxy? The real you?

Oxxy stopped struggling, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on Ants, who watched him anxiously.

I had hoped and dreamed and then hoped again that my friend would come back, Ants admitted, patting Oxxy’s chest. The gesture made Oxxy pause.

How do you feel? Ants asked, withdrawing his hand.

Well, my old friend, Oxxy croaked, voice dry. I could do with a piss and a stiff drink. I’ve been in a right state.

A weak grin played on Oxxy’s lips. He flexed his fingers, then winced. My hands are numb, Ants. He wriggled his body, trying to shift into a sitting position.

Ants hesitated, then leaned in, searching Oxxy’s face for certainty. It is you, isn’t it?

Oxxy let out a breath and took another long look around. Of course, my friend. But... are we in our room?

Relief flooded Ants. Yes! Yes, that’s right! He rushed forward, fumbling with the knots securing Oxxy’s wrists.

Oxxy waited patiently as Ants loosened the first rope, then moved to free his other hand himself. For a fleeting moment, a glint of something darker crossed his face.

Oxxy? Ants hesitated, his fingers hovering over the remaining bindings.

Oxxy sighed. I hate being tied up. My wrists are killing me. Help me, my friend. His voice was strained, but his eyes were steady.

Ants chuckled. I hate it too—unless, of course, there’s a woman involved. One who’s interested in pleasure, not murder. He winked, and Oxxy let out a hoarse laugh as he helped undo the last knot.

Finally free, Oxxy stretched, rolling his shoulders and flexing his limbs. He surveyed the room, then picked up the rope, coiling it in his hands.

Oh, here—I can do that, Ants offered. You need to rest. Or would you like a walk?

Before he could finish his sentence, Oxxy’s fist connected with his jaw. Stunned, Ants reeled back, but before he could react, Oxxy looped the rope around his neck and used the remaining length to whip him into the wall. Ants crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Oxxy crouched low, hands splayed, conjuring small, swirling tornadoes in each palm, ready for anyone who entered. But no one came.

Tying Ants securely, he paused to glance at his fallen friend. Ants lay motionless, his hair spilling across his face.

Outside, voices drifted near the door. Oxxy quickly shut it, locking it and wedging a chair under the ornate handle. Then, he turned to the window, pried it open, and assessed the drop to the ground.

A muffled voice came from behind the door. I hope you guys ain’t tryna kiss and make up, Caelan called.

Oxxy didn’t hesitate. He leaped from the window, using his air magic to cushion his landing near a white concrete bench surrounded by low-growing flowers. Ducking behind the hedges, he scanned the area.

A scuffle erupted upstairs.

I need to move, he muttered.

Then, a cry split the air. Help! Help!

Ants. His shouts would alert Caelan.

Oxxy darted behind another set of bushes bordering the garden. Moving into a crouch, he risked one last glance at the window. He was running out of time.

The door upstairs slammed open.

‘Time to leave.’

He sprinted toward the forest. The echoes of pursuit grew fainter as he crossed the field, the long grass whipping at his legs. A tremendous crash sounded behind him, but he didn’t look back.

The trees blurred past as he ran, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Ahead, the large concrete-and-iron fence marking the estate’s perimeter loomed. He leaped, pushing air beneath him for an extra boost, clearing it effortlessly.

Skidding to a halt on the other side, he exhaled.

Time to find the boss.

---

By the time Oxxy reached the tavern where Caspian usually held court, the other generals were already waiting outside.

Oxxy! He made us look everywhere for you, one of them blurted, relief evident in his voice. Where have you been?

Oxxy shoved past them and pushed open the pub door—only to duck as a beer tap handle came hurtling toward his head. A second later, an entire barrel followed, spraying ale over the assembled men outside.

A very wet, very angry Caspian emerged. Did you find him?! he roared, then stopped short at the sight of Oxxy.

Relief softened his fury for half a second before rage took its place again. Where the fuck have you been?! He lunged, but Oxxy ducked. Caspian’s tail flicked out, narrowly missing his shirt.

Oxxy remained impassive, his posture relaxed as Caspian seethed.

After a moment, Caspian barked at his men, ordering them to clean up the mess. Then, turning to Oxxy, he motioned toward the street. Walk with me. Talk. I need to know what the hell is going on with you. It’s bad enough that Hesiss is falling apart. His tail lashed in agitation.

I was taken by the Wilderfort crew, Oxxy explained. They tried some kind of ritual on me. It didn’t work. I escaped.

Caspian eyed him suspiciously. And you came straight back here? His gaze narrowed into slits, scrutinizing Oxxy.

Why wouldn’t I? Oxxy smirked. I need a drink. He clicked his tongue, attempting to moisten his dry mouth.

Caspian sneered. Go drink piss for all I care. Get your shit together. We need to prepare for war. And you’re getting a sentry—I’m not letting those do-gooders snatch you again.

Oxxy rolled his eyes. Sounds like you almost need me, Caspian. He gave him a sidelong glance,