Athena's POV

Arachne looked up at me. "Athena, "she said "You think you can beat me? Think again. I accept your challenge and if I lose then you can punish me however you think necessary!"

We each sat at our loom and the contest began!

I started to weave a scene of my contest with Poseidon over the city of Athens. A beautiful image developed by the threads, showing Poseidon with the saltwater spring and me with an olive tree. These were gifts to the people who called me their patron and named their city after me.

As we weaved, many people gathered and marveled at my work. At the speed and skill that I manipulated the shuttle, passing it in and out among the threads.

"I recommend that you give up before it is too late." I told Arachne as I continued weaving.

"You only want me to give up because you think you are going to lose!" Arachne cackled.

We continued weaving, Arachne matching me stroke for stroke. I looked up at Arachnes picture and what I saw made me boil up in anger: She had created a picture with different scenes: Leda with the Swan, Europa with the bull, Danae and the golden rain shower. It was so exquisite that the bull seemed lifelike, swimming across the tapestry with a girl on its shoulders. Europa in a state of shock, pulling her feet away from the water in fear.

I got so enraged that I stood from my loom and ripped Arachne's tapestry to shreds. Then I placed my fingers on Arachne's forehead and made sure she felt full guilt for her actions.

The same was too much for her mortal mind and she ran off into the woods. I turned but no one was there they had all disappeared into the woods.

Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself following Arachne deep into the woods.

After walking for ten minutes I found Arachne in a clearing. She was limb and hanging from a tree branch by her neck. She had hung herself.

I instantly took pity on her. I wasn't a mean spirited goddess. Was I? I hadn't expected Arachne to commit suicide, but she had to be taught a lesson.

I decided what I would do. I pulled a vial of dust from my pocket and sprinkled it over Arachne. She started to change shape: her arms and legs turning black and hard. Two more sets of long hard arms sprouted from her chest, her face got swallowed by a hard shell and her number of eyes multiplied and she grew to massive fangs at the sides of her mouth. She was the mother of spiders.

I turned and walked into the trees. Five steps into the forest and I shimmered and vanished leaving behind me Arachne who – just like her descendants – would forever hang from threads and spin their webs.