Chapter 6: Abyssal Seal

'Those drawn to the Dark are destined to seek it.' -Darkdiver Grandahl, Dark Age of Drangleic

I'd come to expect twisted monsters and murderous, shambling corpses by the time I'd entered Black Gulch. Perhaps a series of deadly traps, or a crazed naked woman with a giant axe. Any of that would have been eminently reasonable in this crazed, death-obsessed world. And, in a way, I was right. There were frightening abominations and more statue-turrets littering the area, hauntingly illuminated by that ever-present poisonous green light.

I hadn't expected all of them to be dead or broken, smashed and cut apart by some massive instrument. Deep, freshly bleeding gouges in the bodies of giant leeches, and even larger massive worms with their heads barely attached by scraps of off-coloured sinew. Statues lie in pieces, heads separated from crude torsos.

What the hell? I silently addressed my followers. Who... or what, did this? I received no answer.

New presences entered my sphere of awareness; slowly approaching from above, below, from cracks in the walls. Spiders native to the area, ones who had witnessed whatever battle had unfolded here. A host that dwarfed my own, thousands in number. Their souls spoke of a keen edge, vicious and unyielding.

Eight eyes, to see all that unfolds, they whispered.

Oh great, I thought to myself. I really needed more dramatic demonic spiders. Ignorant of my internal monologue, the new arrivals continued.

We Spiders of the Deep watch the twisting of the earth and secrets buried deep. Beneath soil and stone, eight eyes bear witness.

They spoke as one, a slow procession of cautiously raised limbs ending in explosive motion rather than the more elegant skittering of the spiders I'd gathered thus far. Once again, I was struck by my ignorance of this complex race. Even while connected directly to their minds, there was just too much for me to really process and understand, like being lost in a never-ending library. All the knowledge was there; I was the limiting factor in terms of how much I could access. Of course there would be multiple societies of spiders scattered across the world; of course there would be significant differences between those groups. Even so, it came as a surprise that this particular group acted like some kind of subterranean cult.

What did you see? I pressed. Who caused this? The native spiders had yet to enter under my command; otherwise, I'd have spared myself the dramatic posturing and gleaned the answer from their minds myself. Rather than answering, the cave spiders collectively focused their attention on me, a manic energy gleaming in their beady black eyes.

The Vermin-Queen... she has arrived. The Creaking of the Crags hinted at her glorious ascendance. Indeed, our Dark Sovereign has come! Venom and Flame, scour the surface! Burn away the stain of Man, spread your children across the lands!

I was getting really damn tired of expectations being forced upon me. The spiders' near-zealotry was both unnerving and deeply flattering, but right now, it was an annoyance.

I don't recall agreeing to spread anything, I forcefully interjected. The cave spiders collectively tilted their heads quizzically. Through our shared bond, I felt my own followers' discomfort. Something quite like a small cough silently echoed from a now-familiar spider.

Lady Taylor, He-who-cautions-wisely patiently began, we Spiders, as your subjects, desire a home. Is it not a Queen's duty to provide for her subjects? Drangleic is empty and dying, ripe for the taking. You, and you alone, have the means to take the throne.

We don't have time for this, I bit back. There were a million and one reasons why I was the worst choice for a queen, never mind the fact that I wasn't even sure I wanted to be one. The title had been forced upon me, without regard for my own wants. I was quite certain that I was lacking in every important quality for the role: grace, etiquette, leadership, wisdom... Every decision I could recall making had ended in pain, either my own or that of those I cared for. Of the limited memories I had, the vast majority involved conflict. Sure, I could lead an army of spiders into war. But what of afterwards? What use is a warlord in a time of peace?

More concerningly, a part of me did want to lead and conquer. A muddied middle-ground between Taylor and the Abyss, one I couldn't decide truly came from the self I identified with or the other. Three times, now, I'd been faced with the fact that I wasn't alone in my own head. The Abyss was alive within me, and had made its influence clear. Whether it was sentient or merely encouraged my own darkest self, I wasn't certain. Either way, I couldn't trust myself to lead without first trusting myself.

'Time,' The Lady says! The cave-spiders' leader chuckled, an odd spasm of its legs accompanied by dark amusement. An oddity of Humanity. No time; only before, now, and after. Before, Spiders were without a Sovereign, without a home. Now, we demand both. You, Great Sovereign, have a duty to fulfill. We offer our loyalty, our venom and souls, in service of you. We are not slaves, to be used without recompense. This is our bargain: an army to serve a Queen, in exchange for a Queen to lead her army.

I scowled darkly at the fiercely gesturing spider. I can't just decide like that! I need more time to-

There is no 'time', the little demon decreed. The world moves as you move it. Sit and ponder all you like, and the world will await your answer. After his imperious declaration, the damnably cocky creature turned away and gathered his legs beneath him, as did his congregation.

I don't- As I gathered my reply, a wall interjected itself between us. A barrier between my mind and that of the cave-spiders, blocking any and all communication. Fucking- You little shit! I screamed at the wall, only to have it bounce back and echo within my own head. Fine. Fine! I don't need your shit. I stomped past him, only to be met with a familiar figure dangling just before my nose.

Lady Taylor, She-who-plots-cleverly began in a stern tone, Worm-feeder is correct. We need an answer. You are our Sovereign, ready or not. We neither desire nor expect a perfect leader, only a determined one. Despite your indecision, I believe that you will lead us to victory and home. You may always doubt yourself, but do not doubt my faith. Decide, now.

I couldn't... I just couldn't tell her to back off, much as I wanted to. She was the first of my followers to see me as more than the role I fulfilled, and had risked her single, short life against the rats to save my own, apparently immortal one- yet another bag of worms I was avoiding. She deserved better than me and my hang-ups. All of the spiders did.

Alright, I despondently replied. Just... give me a moment, to think things over.

Take all the 'time' you require... My Lady.

Her tone suggested an attempt at humor, one I replied to with the mental equivalent of a nonplussed glare. Still, it showed she held no grudges against my indecision, for which I was grateful.

I sat on the edge of the Gulch, a great drop-off below my dangling feet. Strange, deep echoes emanated from below, like the mournful howling of a great beast. A suitable sound-track for my thoughts, I supposed.

In a way, I was mourning. The lack of choices since my awakening struck me as deeply unfair, something I resented. At the same time, I felt childish admitting such, even to myself. The world didn't always provide clear-cut options, much less good and bad choices. All too often, the choices were between bad and worse, or simply two different kinds of equally bad options. My scant memories were full of moments like this: forced into choices I never wanted to make.

At face value, my choice should have been obvious. Either I could embrace the gift I'd been given and lead the spiders as their Sovereign, or abandon them. Choosing against the spiders meant condemning myself to a solitary existence. I'd be alone in my own head with the Abyss, living as a cripple in a world of nightmares. Even if I couldn't permanently die any more, I'd be dooming myself to die over and over again. With the spiders, at least I had a fighting chance. More than a fighting chance- even against other parahumans, my past life had carved out a kingdom from the ruins of her home. What I could do with the remnants of her soul, combined with the might of the Abyss and an army of demonic spiders against mere Hollows... Perhaps I was less than Taylor in a way, but I had the potential to be greater. In a world of magic and demons, where immortality was the norm, the limits of what I could accomplish were inconceivable.

I briefly panicked at the realization that I was thinking of 'Taylor' as 'somebody else'. Since when did I stop thinking of myself as Taylor?... Was I still Taylor? That was the name I'd used so far… but did I really have any right to it? If my soul really had been shattered, if I really was half-Taylor, half-Other… Where did that leave me? Who did that leave me as?... I didn't have any other name, though. I was Taylor, as much as I wasn't that Taylor.

One issue at a time, I had to remind myself. I was getting off track. Despite apparently having all the nonexistent time in the world, I didn't want to stretch the patience of the spiders. As much as everything would be simpler if they were mindless insects... I really would be alone if that was the case.

Right. So I didn't want to have the responsibility of a Queen… but I also didn't want to be alone. I was only allowed to fulfill one of those desires. Of the two… I knew which one I couldn't live with. I'd been alone before… or, at least, I remembered Her being alone, which didn't- ugh. It wasn't the kind of thing that got easier over time. Quite the opposite, in fact. Responsibility could be grown into, could be a catalyst for growth, even. Maybe… Maybe She-who-... my friend was right. Maybe I just had to believe in my friends, rather than myself. I didn't have to be Her, shouldering the world all alone. Just because I- She- couldn't trust anybody else to do it. Rightfully so, I thought, but still. I could trust the spiders. I had to.

That still left me with the elephant in the room. Or, rather, the fragment of an ancient horror infesting my soul. How could I trust any decision I made when I wasn't sure I made it? Something about the situation seemed familiar- I'd faced this dilemma before. But what had I decided? The answer eluded me. But I couldn't just… I couldn't hide from life out of fear and doubt. I'd tried that before, and it didn't work then, either. Whatever decisions I made, now and in the future, I had to accept as my own.

The Emerald Herald's words flashed through my mind. 'You've strength yet to face yourself.' I clutched her cloak closer to my body, a feeling of determination welling up in me.

The conclusion was obvious, really, and shouldn't have taken me so long to reach. Overanalyzing the situation was a readily-apparent flaw of mine, in any lifetime. Did I really have to convince myself to choose friends over a life of solitude? Apparently so.

Hey, I called out to She-who-plots-cleverly, isolating her within my mind. As she perked up in attention from cleaning her spinnerets, I considered what I was about to ask. I've reached a decision, of sorts. But I have doubts. And a request.

Of course, Lady Taylor.

That name was starting to sound like more of a lie than calling myself a Queen. If I may ease your doubts, I would be honored.

Right, I steeled myself. I think... I think becoming your Sovereign is the right choice. I waited for her burst of elation and underlying notes of 'I-told-you-so' to settle down before continuing. The concerns I have aren't so easily addressed, though. You've seen my soul; you know I'm not... the person I used to be. You felt what happened in the tunnels, saw... saw Manus' memories. She nodded hesitantly. That part of me very much wants to lead you. I'm afraid of that feeling, I admitted. It would be easy to slip up, just once. To take control and never let go, to use you like tools. You could never complain about it if I didn't allow you to, could never leave me unless I let you.She shivered at my words, trepidation evident in her soul. I cannot say I have no fear, she quietly admitted. But I have trust. I trust you are greater than the sum of your soul, I trust you have the strength to resist the Dark. I see that strength, in every moment I serve as a part of your will- and I see it is growing. Your soul is still healing, and the adversity you face now leads to greater strength. There will come a time when you have strength enough to face your Darkest self and force it into submission, this I believe. You will not long abide a life in fear of yourself- fear is not a strand in your Web. The strange turn of phrase resonated in my head, as the meaning was gleaned from her mind. In the culture of the Majulan spiders, master artisans and historians that they were, the web was the center of everything. Every place, every event, every soul was connected by a great web, one strand touching another. The Web of Fate. Every individual had a web at their core, holding them together. Every strand was an inescapable definition of oneself, a binding curse and reassuring blessing. To have fear as a strand in one's web was to forever be a slave to one's own fear; to be without that strand was to be forever brave, perhaps even reckless. My own web was still unclear, but Control was vibrant. An interesting analogy, but it struck me as similar to my old world's obsession with horoscopes- interesting, but ultimately not indicative of any greater truth, and certainly not a valid means of predicting the future. In a world of magic, however, perhaps I could be proven wrong.

Thank you for your trust, I sincerely replied, but I can't wait until I'm stronger than the Abyss, if that ever happens. The Spiders need a leader now. And I can't trust myself to be that leader. But... maybe I can trust you, instead. All of you. I can't have you blindly following my every word if I'm to lead you- that's just begging for disaster. I need you to call me out- to voice your opinions. If you even suspect I'm making a mistake, I need you to say so. Can you do that?

I... If you require it, Lady Taylor, she answered, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. Dissent is natural for peers amidst Chaos, but not between a leader and her subjects.

I do require it, I firmly answered. Sensing her acceptance, I picked myself up and turned to the gathered crowd. The mental wall between myself and the cave-spiders came down at the motion.

Do you have an answer? Worm-feeder haughtily challenged me, his small stature hardly improved by his puffed-up attitude.

I do. I mustered as much certainty as I could into my answer. Something like cautious hope briefly appeared in his soul, before being consumed by apprehension.

And?

And as your Sovereign, you will not address me so rudely. His meager soul was easily overwhelmed by my own, my essence forcing him to his metaphorical knees, pinned beneath my gaze. I will lead, and you will serve. You will be my army, my subjects, my children. I will provide, protect, and guide. I will lead you to home and victory. My certainty in this course of action settled on my shoulders as a mantle, an indescribable weight as both a burden and foundation. I felt as both he and every spider radiated pride, satisfaction, and hope for the future.

Yes, Great Sovereign! The chant was picked up by his followers, as they entered under my sphere of control. I didn't yet enforce it upon them, not until I'd finished.

Queen of Vermin! Grace and Terror! Flame and Splendor! The Great Sovereign reigns eternal! The dance spread among the Majulan spiders, becoming a frenzied celebration.

I haven't finished, I reprimanded. I allowed a familiar crack of authority into my voice, lacking the harsh bite of anger. As my subjects and dear friends came to attention, I continued. I'll lead you... but I won't be a tyrant. You must voice your thoughts, even if you disagree with my decisions. Especially if you disagree with my decisions. I will not and cannot lead you unless you do this.

Uncertainty swept over the gathered host. That... is not the way of our kind, He-who-cautions-wisely stated. However... You are not a spider. You bear the mark upon your soul, and forever have our loyalty as our Sovereign, but you are not of our kind. Perhaps our old ways no longer apply. He sounded supremely uncomfortable with the idea- understandable, for the erstwhile leader of a society of historians.

I don't aim to abandon your culture, I reassured him. I want to respect your ways as I can. But on this, I insist. I felt gratitude at my explanation, and nodded in satisfaction. Will you accept my terms?

The leaders of the two spider tribes skittered forth, perching themselves on my feet and looking outwards among their people. In unison, they spoke. We, leaders amongst our people, hunters and weavers, have recognized the Mother Spider, the Great Weaver, the Dark Sovereign! We submit ourselves to Her will, to be guided by Her web! Do you accept your roles, as one among many in Her army, to be eight eyes and legs in service of Her endless reign? Will you forever tie the strands of your webs to her own, under witness of the Web of Fate? Without hesitation, tens of thousands of tiny legs pounded the stone as one, eight times over. Though small in stature, their collective noise could be mistaken for a marching army in the subterranean space. We so swear.

Then as it was in old Izalith, we have our Queen.

I locked eyes with She-who-plots-cleverly, perched on my shoulder, and smiled widely. She attempted to mimic the expression, mandibles spread apart beneath her earnest black eyes. I held back a snort of laughter as she gave into muscle cramps; cute as the 'smile' was, it wasn't a natural one for her kind.

Right, then, I broke into the celebration. Fun as being crowned Queen was, I did have things to do. Namely, get the hell out of these caves; find a nice, warm bath; and apparently conquer a kingdom full of resurrecting zombies. First order of business… what the hell happened in this cave? I gestured at the piles of corpses and rubble strewn unevenly across the cavern floor.

A man, one young cave-spider answered. A female hunter, I knew; one who'd witnessed the events first-hand. Deathless and rotten, but different from the others. Though he died many times, he remains unclaimed by the Curse.

One man did all of this? I gestured towards the piles of corpses and rubble, strewn amidst puddles of blood and gore.

Most of the blood is his, the spider helpfully supplied. Every beast you see here was felled by his hand, though. I looked back and forth between the hill of bodies and rivers of blood. Most of that was his?!

An alien sensation welled up within me, one of familiarity and… fear. I knew what had caused this destruction, knew it as surely as the sight of a lover's face. Chosen One. The Indomitable. A memory flashed behind my eyes, of a pitch-black cavern, a woman in white, and a drawn sword, pointed at me. The blade that killed me. The gathered spiders looked at me with concern as I shook my shoulders out and stretched my neck. The visions were coming more often, I was certain. Not only my own- not only Taylor's, rather- but older memories as well. What did that mean for me? I feared that by the time I had an answer, it would be too late.

Shrugging off my friends' worried eyes, I injected false confidence into my tone and squared my shoulders. We're wasting time, I announced. The exit's right there. The sooner I get out of here and take a bath, the sooner we can… take over the world, or whatever. And maybe contact an exorcist… After the bath.

Some younger spiders chittered at my silly human concept of time, but followed me nonetheless. I made my way through the caverns, gingerly stepping over or around puddles of blood and gore. Despite the piles of corpses, the vast majority of all this blood came from just one man. I could faintly hear him now, the sensitive leg-hairs of the cave-spiders picking up the air's vibrations. Muffled roars and thuds, made soft by the misty white barrier covering the exit.

This is it, I thought to myself. No matter what awaits me through this gate, I'm getting out of these damned caves. And then I'm going to skin that goddamned cat. I couldn't decide whether that would come before or after the bath. Again, the faint sound of throaty laughter, just on the edge of my hearing.

Shifting my thoughts away from pleasant daydreams of murder, I pulled my scarf up and strode through the white fog. As I passed through, palming my dagger, the world fell silent.

Upon reaching the other side, my world exploded into light. After so long in the gloomy caves, the hellish landscape was like staring into the sun. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes, looking through those of my spiders instead as I adjusted.

I was just in time to see a massive, misshapen creature explode into motes of pale blue light, the weight of its soul momentarily distorting reality with a keening whine. Amidst the soul-light burned two fierce fires, one a dim orange and the other a larger, magnificent gold. The fires split from one another, racing towards me and another figure standing amidst the light.

He looked me in the eyes, hatred emanating from his rotting face as the golden soul rushed towards me. It hit me in the chest, sinking inwards and filling me to the brim. The Abyss surged forth, pouring through my veins as it welcomed the light like an old friend. Black flames licked at the edges of my vision as something indescribably heavy settled within me.

Dead One, dear friend.

I was torn out of the overwhelming feelings of bittersweet nostalgia by the thrum of a massive blue blade tearing through the air, swung by the muscular, shirtless Hollowed man. She-who-plots-cleverly clung onto my scalp as I tucked under the blade, falling back into half-remembered memories of combat.

His blade must weigh half as much as he does, I observed. Dense crystal like that, well over six feet in length and thick- if it weighed less than a hundred pounds, I'd cut off my hair. Brute package, definitely. I sent weavers up the cavern walls, with instructions to weave together ropes of silk and tie them to the cavern floor. The cave-spiders were still pouring into the arena, their front lines beginning to swarm over the Hollow's legs. He stomped uncaringly over the wave of arachnids, but it hardly made a dent in my army. The little ones chittered in murderous fury at every death, never faltering in their charge.

When facing a Brute, avoid close-quarters. Aim to restrain or hamper movement. Use layered defenses to offset kinetic impact. Finish the fight fast. I could remember reading, endlessly practicing, even executing these tactics- but not when or where I learned them. Nevertheless, I relied on them. Even as my soldiers dogpiled the hapless Hollow, I was backing away, creating as much space between us as I could. Within moments, the Undead warrior was covered up to his neck in spiders. I gave the order to bite, wherever they could reach. I was tempted to order them inside his mouth and ears, but- these are sentient beings, I had to remind myself. Their lives matter.

It took much longer than I expected for the venom to take effect. The Hollow was still taking beleaguered steps, weighed down by a thousand tiny bodies, when his arms and neck began to twitch with palsy. His hand reached out for me, fingers curled into a vicious claw, as his knees finally gave out. Immediately, thousands more spiders set upon him, burying him alive in chitinous bodies. Even so, I felt through their legs as he pulled himself along the ground. It took entirely too long for the venom to finally claim his life.

The spiders began to cheer, thousands of feet scraping across stone with a harsh, watery sound. It isn't over yet, I cautioned them, watching either exit. We can't win by merely killing him. My army swarmed over the cavern, reshaping the environment for the second round.

We win by breaking him.

By the side of the Bonfire, the Bearer scratched at his shirtless chest. The phantom sensation of thousands of skittering legs across his skin… that death had been unusual, and would not soon be forgotten.

The fight, if it could be called that, had been embarrassingly short. He counted a small victory, however, in that his every assumption of his enemy had been proven correct: she was a coward, hiding behind an army of vermin. She hadn't dared to cross blades with him, knowing full well her own pathetic kitchen knife couldn't fend him off. He was confident, then, that he could kill her- if only he could get close enough.

The Witch was no threat, then. Without her minions, she'd be a helpless girl- worse, a cripple. Really, if she hadn't caught him at such an inopportune time- winded, shortly after fighting a truly challenging foe, and unarmored- he wouldn't have lost so easily.

Still, it would be best not to charge in half-cocked again. While the Old One's soul remained safe within him, the thousands of soul fragments released in its death were lost upon his own death. He had but a single opportunity to reclaim the lost souls from the site of his death. Used as both currency and as fuel for his power, it would be a great nuisance were the gathered souls to disappear forever. He needed a plan.

Digging through his bag produced several options, all of which promised a bloody death for the Witch- some more than others.

He returns. The whisper carried clearly through my army as distant footsteps caused silk lines along the ground to vibrate. The cave-spiders used this method as a makeshift seismograph, to warn them of incoming threats too large to safely hunt. I happily employed it myself, to gain greater control of the battlefield.

In the few moments since the Undead's temporary demise, the spiders had been busy. Banners of silk hung from floor to ceiling, breaking our enemy's line of sight and hopefully hampering his movement, while I could easily find my own way around through sensing the spiders. Sticky threads lined the floor in a pattern, one I could avoid stepping on. The bulk of the cave-spider's forces were evenly spread, hidden behind banners. The shadows cast by burning pools of oil provided excellent camouflage, as well. I, myself remained hidden in an elevated alcove, among several inert statue-turrets. If this Undead wanted to play, then the game was cat-and-mouse. I had no intention of losing.

An odd drone filled the air as a hand burst through the white fog gate on one end of the arena. I bid my soldiers to remain hidden for the moment as I watched the Undead from above.

He strode in cautiously, blade at the ready. This time, he was fully armored- not that it would do him much good. He turned his helmet this way and that, searching for me. Let's help him out a bit. I couldn't keep the smirk entirely out of my message- not that my friends didn't feel the same. As he approached the center of the arena, we spoke.

"Looking for me?" My words were reproduced by vibrating silk and skittering legs, echoing horribly amidst the crackling flames. Immediately, he swung his sword behind him, slashing at nothing. His head tilted, holding very still. "I'm not hiding, you know." In a flash of motion, the Undead drew a knife from his side, throwing it in the general location of the sound. He wasn't a terribly accurate shot.

"Can't you see me?" The voice came from directly behind him, echoing off the silk banner he'd backed up against. My spiders there had gathered into a vague silhouette, thrown into relief by the firelight. "You see me now, don't you?" Without hesitation, his greatsword cut through the thin silk, 'beheading' the silhouette. In response, my army descended around him, dragging along prepared ropes of silk. Though he tried to cut at the lines, they merely moved along with his wild swings- without any tension in the lines, he couldn't split the silk. A few heartbeats later, and he was completely entangled. "I'm everywhere," I whispered in his ear.

Make it hurt, I ordered. They crawled through the slitted visor in his helmet, squeezing one-by-one through the tiny gap. The first to arrive went for his eyes, while others crawled down the opening around his neck. When the screams began, I felt no compulsion to continue watching. I made certain it took longer than strictly necessary before giving permission to kill the poor Hollow. Moments later, his corpse fell apart into ash.

He returned from the Flame, gasping and clutching fearfully at his face. Eyes, his eyes-! His heart slowly returned to normal after confirming his sight remained.

That… that was no fight. That was a game. And in the end… He'd died painfully before, yes. He'd died horrible, unusual deaths- hundreds of times, so many times that he no longer remembered all the terrible fates he'd met. But what had happened in that arena… that was torture. A death designed to be drawn out, to cause pain for the sake of pain.

He looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, he strode back to the arena. Never mind the thousands of souls he'd just lost forever- this Witch had taunted him. He would laugh in the face of her desecrated corpse.

It's ready, Great Sovereign! A young hunter reported from the cavern entrance. Right on time, too- once more, the vibration of footsteps signaled my target's arrival. I double-checked the silk line's connection to the stone statue, as well as the hoop along the roof. Both looked secure enough.

The odd drone of the fog gate sounded once more. Right away, I yanked on the silk cord tied to the statue, toppling it forwards- right as the Undead's foot landed in a loop of silk. The trap sprung tight, the loop winding tight around his ankle and yanking him off his feet. The Hollow was dragged foot-first into a pool of burning pitch, hardly having time to scream before he died.

He emerged from the Flame with fury in his eyes, hand tight around the grip of his sword. The Witch thought herself clever, then? Toying with him, as if he were prey? He was the hunter, he was the stronger one! The Witch had had her fun. Now it was-

"Off so soon, to die again?" A smoky, feminine voice drawled from his feet. Something wrapped sinuously around his leg, stroking at his shin. "Haven't you grown bored yet? Really, what's so fascinating about death, to have you humans scurrying head-first toward it?"

Ah… Shalquoir, was it? Yes, he was fond of the creature. She'd traded several powerful artefacts for souls with him, her rings still adorning his fingers. What was the cat doing in these dank caves? He was quite certain cats disliked wet things.

"Yes, yes, how horribly unusual to meet me here. Believe me, I won't be licking myself clean after spending a single moment in these horrid caves. You know me, dearie. I wouldn't have bothered coming if it weren't terribly important." He nodded his understanding at the feline.

"You see… I, too, want that Witch dead." What? But… "Never you mind your pretty, rotting head why, now. All you need to know is this: those little demons that follow her every whim, the spiders? Well, they really are demons. And what better way to kill a demon than with miracles!" But he didn't have any… "I know, I know. You're a faithless human, no gratitude to the gods whatsoever! What a filthy heretic you are, yes indeed! Such is of no concern, never you worry. You'll find it positively shocking, the things modern science can do…"

With a swish of her tail, a mist rolled around the cat's feet. Where before there was nothing, a package now lay resting on the cold stone. Atop it was a note, written in looping, fine writing. When he looked back to the cat, she was nowhere to be found, gone with a faint laughter on the breeze.

He shrugged his shoulders, accepting the cat's whimsy. Upon reading the note, that shrug became a stiff, hunched pose, his fist clenched around the paper, white-knuckled beneath its gauntlet. Fury burned beneath his helm, promising retribution.

The Herald gave the Witch her cloak.

Vibrations signaled the Undead's arrival once more. I had no way of knowing how many times I'd need to kill him before he gave up, or how far I'd need to go to break him- but I was prepared. Whatever needed to be done to leave this cave, by the Abyss, I'd do it.

As the Hollow man stepped into the arena, I signaled my spiders to dogpile him. Simple and efficient, I'd felt his fear the last time I'd inflicted this particular fate on him.

He strode calmly forward, even as the spiders climbed up his legs. As more and more swarmed around his feet, the Undead simply walked ever onwards. He managed to reach the center of the cavern before being utterly swamped, the weight of the spiders dragging him to his knees.

He has a plan, She-who-plots-cleverly warned.

I know, I calmly replied. The bomb, on his belt. He plans to detonate it and wipe out the swarm. It wouldn't work. The spiders were immune to flames. At most, they'd be knocked around a bit. Not nearly enough to seriously harm any of them.

Ah, she hummed happily. Oh, the look on his face when-

He pulled the bomb free, its ignition switch pulled free by the action. Several seconds later, during which he spasmed with venom coursing through his veins, it detonated with a blinding white flash and a crackling noise. I blinked away the spots in my eyes, mentally reaching out for-

...Taylor? I can't… Her voice was filled with confusion, as lost as my own thoughts. I can't hear them...

Where- where did they go?

"W-Worm-feeder…? Fang-twitcher?" I stared at the smoking corpse of the Undead man- surrounded by charred, twitching spiders, all clearly dead. Thousands of them, all piled on top of one another. Silence took hold of the arena.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I mumbled under my breath, hopping free of my hiding spot. I'd just met them, just promised to lead them- how could I fuck up this badly, this quickly?! I stumbled to my feet, rushing to the site of the explosion. "How- how did he do it?! How did he kill them all?!" Some kind of Blaster-Shaker power, or a Tinker device, or-

Lady Taylor, you must control yourself! He'll be back at any-

The sound of boots on stone came rushing up behind me. My vibration strings had all been torn apart in the explosion, the remainder of my forces scattered and confused by the sudden loss of the vast majority of my army. Nearly every cave-spider had died in that explosion, only a few of their number in reserve having survived.

A second bomb came rolling to my feet, just as the Hollow swung at my head. I'd seen the blast radius on that bomb, I couldn't hope to dodge both it and that massive-

Electric pain consumed my senses, my heart tearing itself apart with every sudden contraction. With my every muscle pulling taut against bone, I collapsed to the floor. My last sight was the edge of a great blue blade, swinging for my neck. A moment later, as my mind tried to compute suddenly being deprived of everything below my chin, I died.

I opened my eyes to a black sky, white sand crumbling beneath my hands. Cold, gray water lapped at my feet. "Where…?" A great clang sounded behind me, that of two metal objects striking. I quickly climbed to my feet, dizzy from the sudden movement.

"About damn time, kid!" A terribly familiar voice called out. I turned around to see a woman in skin-tight black armor, an insectile mask covering her face. A knife surrounded by a gray haze danced in her hands.

Despite all the questions that struggled to exit my lips, only one escaped: "...Kid?"

The woman's opponent rushed forward, a hulking woman- over twice my height, easily- dressed in black, evil-looking plate armor and carrying around a massive blade, one that dwarfed every other sword I'd seen. The familiar woman ducked beneath the greatsword and swung at the giant's thigh. "I'm not calling you Taylor," she bit out.

Taking her eyes off her opponent for a split second, she pinned me beneath her intense glare. "That's my fucking name, and you have no right to it."