The twin suns of the planet Krull were hidden behind dark, roiling clouds from which distant thunder occasionally murmured as the young woman clad in black garments knelt on the grass next to the grave and gently placed the single indigo flower before the headstone bearing the name of her husband, while a tall old man stood solemnly behind her. The name of the woman was Lyssa, and she did not cry as she lay down her gift to her dearly departed; all her tears had been spent long ago. Now she only whispered "Rest well, my love" as she slowly straightened up.
She felt something wet splash against her shoulder then, and turned her head to see a single large raindrop glistening against the night-coloured fabric of her shawl. She felt and heard more begin to fall on and around her. "Time to go home now, eh, daughter?" said the old man with her.
"Your magic could shield us from the rain, father," said Lyssa as she walked over to him.
Her father made a hrmph sound. "Why waste good magic on something so trivial? There's nothing wrong with getting a little wet...as long as we avoid the main burst."
They left the graveyard and had been walking through the countryside toward their home for a few minutes, the rain steadily increasing, when Lyssa said "The storm will last all through the night. It will end an hour before dawn tomorrow. I can see it."
Lyssa's father looked at her with interest. "Your seers' abilities continue to develop, Lyssa. I feel you could be very powerful oneday, perhaps one of Krull's greatest seers."
"I should have seen my husband's death before it happened," Lyssa replied softly. "Then perhaps I could have prevented it..."
Sighing sadly, her father gently placed his arm across her shoulders. "The race of the Cyclopes are ever aware of how and when they will die," he told her. "They have a saying: 'Each to their fate.' Sometimes, though it pains us, that is how it must be." By the time the two of them reached their home, the rainstorm was fully upon them, and they splashed through deep puddles as they approached the door of the old house on the edge of the forest. A short while later, night having fallen, Lyssa sat in a chair warming herself from the storm's chill by the glowing, leaping flames of the fireside, when her father got up with a deep, long yawn. "I think I'll turn in now," he said. "Will you be alright on your own, dear?"
Looking into the fire, Lyssa nodded. "Of course, father. I will...be thinking." For a moment, her father lingered in silent examination of her, and then hobbled off to bed. For a while Lyssa sat alone, the rain roaring outside, and turned things over and over in her mind. One thing her abilities had told her which she had not shared: A name...Ynyr. And the feeling that, whomever this Ynyr may be, he would be meaningful in her life. How, exactly...that she could not see.
But she could hear, and at this moment she heard a knocking upon the front door. Rising from her chair, Lyssa approached the door and opened the small window set into the wood to cautiously peer outside. In the rain-washed darkness she caught sight of the figure of a man in a brown cloak and hood standing there shivering slightly against the wetness. Remaining on guard, she said "Who are you? What do you here this night?"
The stranger stepped closer now, and Lyssa could see beneath his hood that he was young, perhaps in his early second decade. "Forgive my disturbing you, my lady," he said to her. "My name is Ynyr. I have travelled a long way, and would be grateful for shelter from this damn storm. Please, may I enter? I cannot walk any further tonight, and am willing to pay for the shelter of your house." A myriad thoughts and feelings raced haphazardly through Lyssa's mind then. His name...the same as that which she had foreseen..."What is your answer?" he asked imploringly. In a heartbeat, she made her decision and slid back the bolt on the door, letting the man called Ynyr inside. "Thank you," he muttered as he walked inside, casting off his hood and cloak and seating himself by the fire. From a satchel he had brought with him, he produced some dried meat, which he placed on a fork and began warming by the flames.
With his hood discarded, Lyssa could see now that his hair was long, curly, and dark gold in colour. A short beard of the same colour adorned his chin. "Where are you from?" she enquired of him.
"The islands of the Great Eastern Ocean," Ynyr responded. "I am on a long and extremely hard journey that will take me further yet." His meal now sufficiently warmed, he took a bite of it, chewing and swallowing contentedly.
"You must seek something very special to travel so far," said Lyssa, not taking her eyes from him.
Ynyr was looking into the fire as he spoke. "Very special, and wondrous." Now he turned to face her. "Among the stars of the galaxy are many worlds other than Krull, with their own peoples, their own enchantments. Sometimes we are visited by travellers from these worlds...but it is rare for a man of Krull to venture beyond the confines of this planet. My late father was one such man who did so, when he was a member of a noble company of adventurers amid space. His wish was always that I should do as he did, experience such awe and power. Imagine it, to see lands and beings that kings on Krull can but dream about! So I managed to make contact with those my father had voyaged with, and petitioned them to admit me into their ranks. They agreed to give me what I wanted...providing I first proved myself worthy, by going on a journey across Krull and completing certain tasks. Only then can I know true majesty, and fulfil my father's wish." He paused and looked away then, taking another bite of his meal and chewing thoughtfully. A moment later, he looked up at her again and said "I'm sorry, forgive my ignorance; what is your name?"
"Lyssa," she told him, smiling slightly at this interesting man with such high hopes. "The storm will not pass until near dawn, and the country will not be a fit place to rest. If you wish, you are welcome to pass the night here, and resume your quest tomorrow."
Ynyr peered at her for a moment, and she thought she detected something in his eyes, much like those of her late husband. Then he smiled and said "I would be very glad to, Lyssa."
And so when Lyssa's father came downstairs early the next morning, the light of the suns shining through the windows, it was to be greeted with the sight of his daughter sat at the dinner table, and sharing breakfast with a young man with whom she conversed in a friendly manner. Once Ynyr introduced himself and explained his presence, it did not take long for the old man to warm to him. "We are glad of your company," Lyssa's father said to Ynyr the following day, when the two men sat alone together in the house, "But what of your quest to prove your worthiness?"
From where he was sitting, Ynyr could see out into the garden, where Lyssa was tending the flowers. "I think it can wait a while," he said. And so the days passed on, becoming weeks, then months. In that time, the friendship between Lyssa and Ynyr grew, becoming more. One day the two of them were walking back from the village market along a forest path, her hand in his, when they suddenly looked at one another and stopped. Another second and they kissed, all their passion boiling to the surface in a moment of purest, heartfelt joy. And that evening, their joy raced further, beyond thought of all else in existence, beyond any other cares.
Ynyr had not intened to stay in this place as long as he had, nor expected to find love. Yet despite his happiness with Lyssa, he could not forget promises he had made to others, which he now felt he was breaking. Night after night he would wake up in bed beside Lyssa, looking at her sleeping soundly, and feel himself tearing apart inside. Then one dawn, Lyssa awoke to find herself alone in bed. She called Ynyr's name as she descended the stairs, and found her father sitting at the table. "Father, have you seen Ynyr?" she asked him.
Bidding his daughter sit with him, the old man gently told her that, though Ynyr truly loved her, he had found he could ignore his quest, and so had left to resume his journey while she slept. Hearing this, Lyssa rose without a word, tears spilling from her eyes, and ran out of the door into the countryside, crying out Ynyr's name as she raced through fields and woods, before collapsing on the ground and sobbing uncontrollably for a full hour.
For days afterward, Lyssa spoke or slept hardly at all in her anguish. Soon her heart sank more as she noticed the signs in her body of the presence of a child...a child deserted by its' father. Her father promised her that he would help her in every way he could in caring for it, and she in turn promised him that she would love the tiny life she had been given. But the pain and coldness left by Ynyr's abandonment of her grew also, and threatened to become something worse. And on the morn when Lyssa gave birth, she cried out not just in pain of bringing forth the child, but in despair at how she had been robbed of ultimate happiness. Seeing the sleeping face of her newborn son did not ease her grief...it only fed it.
Lyssa sat in her bed, her child in his crib nearby, and she made a decision. Completely calm, she got up and, holding a pillow, walked over to the crib. Her baby slept as she lowered the pillow over his face, and pressed hard. There was a brief movement, a tiny cry, as she pushed for over a minute, harder and harder...then she knew it was over, and she withdrew the pillow from the small, still form in the crib.
When Lyssa's father walked in later, he saw his daughter on the floor by his grandchild's crib, crying and shaking, the enormity of what she had done having seized her, as she held the pillow. "I could not stop myself," she sobbed, and hearing this, he rushed over to the crib and peered inside, and knew what Lyssa had done.
When he turned away to look down at his daughter, there was no parental love in his face; only heartbreak and fury. "Are you truly my child" he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "No...I do not think you are. My daughter died with the innocent infant in that crib." Fear grasped Lyssa as she listened to her father speak. "You were given a wonderful gift," he continued, "A gift given in love...a love you have defiled! Murderer! Vile witch! Your punishment will be the stuff of nightmares! You will come to yearn for death!"
"Father - " Lyssa implored, then screamed and shut her eyes as he raised his face and fists to the heavens and gave vent to a chilling roar. She knew he was channeling powerful forces, greater than any he had wielded before. When she opened her eyes, she was in a pitch dark void, but could feel this was not her ultimate fate. How long precisely Lyssa was in that no-place, she had no way of knowing for certain. She just knew when the utter blackness broke apart around her to reveal what she first took to be a grey mist, but which she quickly realized was a near-solid wall of grey silk, like that spun by a spider. The silken wall enclosed a small chamber, containing a mirror, a chair, and a small table on which stood an hourglass filled with red sand.
As Lyssa turned, she saw her father standing there. Again, there was no love in his gaze, but he seemed weary. "This has greatly weakened me," he said to her, "But it will hold. Speak not, only listen! This place shall be your prison, a shell suspened by webbing inside a high mountain cave, in which you shall dwell alone until the far-off day of your demise. Your skills as a seer will grow, so that men will seek you for what you can show them...but they must first brave the guardian I have appointed, a great spider of living crystal which lurks without." He pointed to the hourglass. "The sand contained therein is your life, by which you are protected from the spider. Turn the hourglass, and you buy a seeker time...but only once can this be done! Such be your fate, to be a Widow of the Web!"
"No!" Lyssa wailed. "Not such a cruel existence! How could you do this!" But her father did not reply, only disappeared, leaving her alone. Nor did she ever see him again. All she knew was the Web.