Chapter 3: Twin Humanities
'My dear sister... You know, I still remember... Your beautiful, silky face. If only I could gaze upon it once more...' -The White Lady, First Dark Age
"And then," Saulden crowed, "she conjured her beasts from the aether! Now, I'm no fool, of course. Can't kill a witch's familiar without killing the witch, right? So I take a swing at the sorceress, but her being magic and all, suddenly she's behind me! What's a knight to do, right? Well, I'll tell you exactly what!"
Maughlin slumped further into his slouch, staring wistfully at his abacus. "Let me guess, you tried to cut off her head?" Saulden had been trumpeting his victory over the mysterious travelling woman for some time, now. How long had it been? Oh, how easy it was to lose track of things. That's why he had his faithful abacus... Now, what was he counting again?
"W-well, of course I did! That's how you kill a witch, you know. Only way to be sure. Except, well, she's a witch, right? I go to fell the foul woman, but she's ensnared me in the monsters' silk! The strings tied 'round her fingers, and she's moving her hands about like a puppeteer!" The braggart waved his hands about in a vaguely spooky fashion as he told his tall tales.
The merchant let out a long, weary sigh. "Didn't she only have one arm?" Saulden's stories of old battles fought once served as some amusement for Maughlin, but the novelty had long worn off as each successive retelling embellished the story further from the truth. Perhaps the story was the same, and it was merely his own recollection that failed him? Saulden cleared his throat, looking abashed at having been caught in falsehoods.
"Right- well. I showed her what for, in the end," he finished lamely.
"And that's why you've a broken cuirass, ripped shirt, and pissed pants?" Maughlin pointedly gestured at the torn and soiled clothes strewn in front of him, as Saulden sat unashamed in his undergarments. The man had the decency to turn crimson as his bravado was once more cast into doubt.
"Shut up and fix my damn clothes, you lout!"
"Of course, of course," he easily replied. There was a time, he imagined, when he might have been a great merchant, with a hall of his own and faithful customers bringing valuables and curiosities from across the lands. Whether or not that had ever been true, who could say? Certainly not he. Here, in the cliff-strewn shanties of Majula, he was a launderer and peddler of common trash, and that was all he knew. Now, speaking of curiosities, that woman from earlier... Had he not spotted something valuable around her neck? Something shimmering in the dying light? Where had such a treasure come from? It certainly wasn't anywhere he could see when she'd spoken with him, barely concealed as she was beneath the Herald's cloak.
He recalled, vividly as it was so recent, the horrible damage done to the woman's body. Scars of all manner, from burns, cuts and stabs. How had she walked away from all of that alive? Perhaps not unharmed- he'd seen the looseness of the fabric on her right side, of course- but certainly better off than whatever inflicted such wounds. While Saulden may have once been a Knight of some renown, that woman had surely been blooded and come of age on countless battlefields. Oh, what stories could she tell? "Where is she, anyhow? The Witch?"
"Must've run off, after I walloped her! And good riddance," the knight spat.
"Hmm... I do hope she comes back. I'd dearly like to ask her some questions," he mused. Was she off once more to another battlefield? What scars would she earn this time, what stories could she tell? What baubles and trophies would she bring him?
The Lady is dead! She-who-mourns-profusely sobbed. The Ancient One, foul beast! She's killed the Sovereign! There, splattered over cold stone, was a still-warm corpse, its lifeblood pouring through tiny cracks in the earth. Deep down the well she'd fallen, their great Lady, until meeting her demise here, in the fetid cistern below Majula. Foul smells wafted through the connected caverns, and up above, the incessant chattering of rats.
The Great Sovereign is not yet gone, He-who-cautions-wisely stated. She-who-reads-the-Webs-somberly foretold of this. The elderly crone hobbled forward on her six remaining legs as her name was intoned, perching on their fallen Lady's brow. She clicked her mandibles sharply for attention, and the chittering and stamping of feet drew to a close.
'From the Flame, a Queen. She who commands armies, she who fells gods, she who curses the heavens. Her Soul shall bear the mark of the Spider, the taint of the Abyss, the pitch of Humanity. This, the Webs decree. She shall fall, and rise again, sinking her fangs into the feet of those who dare tread upon her Children. In her shadow, a kingdom shall rise, of vermin and refuse.' The words of the prophecy were pronounced as a dance, spindly legs stamping in rhythm, fangs tapping and abdomen bobbing. She-who-reads-the-Webs-somberly performed it with elegance and grace, despite her crippled nature. Such wounds were a mark of honor to the spiders, proof that the bearer was clever enough to survive. And did that not speak wonders of their Sovereign? How damaged her mortal shell, how scarred and maimed she was! The Webs of Fate are clear, children. 'She shall fall, and rise again.' Prepare her body!
The Lady's soldiers set to work, their finest weavers preparing a shroud for the body. Nothing less than art could be allowed, of course. The coarse hemp defiling her skin was torn away, while the cloak and dagger were allowed to remain, as gifts of fealty from the Lady's future subjects. Of course, they'd need to be properly tailored for a Sovereign. So very much work to do, but there were plenty of legs and fangs to contribute to the cause.
A pair of hollows idly wandered into the cistern, following the scent of uncorrupted meat, though the Queen's guard made short work of the sorry creatures. Lines of silk were hung from the cavern's roof, and a quickly-formed battalion clambered down upon the undead. The hollows remained entirely ignorant of the spiders, focused as they were upon the fallen Lady, as their limbs were bound to their chests. As their legs were bound together, the creatures fell, and the larger host of unoccupied spiders fell upon them. Within moments, the hollows were cocooned and hoisted up to the ceiling, where they'd serve as food for newly hatched spiderlings.
The Sovereign's shroud was coming along nicely, bearing praises of their Queen's beauty, terror and splendor, her own visage imprinted upon the impossibly fine fabric. Scenes of the spiders' history were depicted along the edges- epics such as Aid comes to Izalith, The Crimson Lady's Fury, The Pale Lady's Kindness, and more, all were rendered in loving detail. What new epics would their Sovereign weave?
As the last line of silk was woven into the fabric, and the tapestry was wrapped around their Lady's bare flesh, a cry rang out among the soldiers. The rats! They come for us! He-who-guards-warily warned. From above, dozens, if not hundreds, of the foul mammals stormed down the walls, their teeth clicking in a battle cry. The spiders hastily weaved their defenses, sticky threads set from the walls to entangle as many as they could. Below Majula, a tiny, nearly-silent war was waged, as the beasts in their matted fur set upon the host of arachnids. The initial charge was devastating, hundreds of spiders trampled underfoot or snatched up between gnashing teeth, though it was met with fierce resistance. Though the rats felled scores of spiders, they lacked the numbers and cleverness of their opponents. Rats were caught and bound, succumbing to poison or suffocation by silk in droves. Their little corpses were cocooned and left as a feast for the eggs within, as the spiders fought desperately to protect the Lady.
It was far from a stalemate, however. The rats pushed on, led by a champion of their kind sporting a red stripe of fur standing high on his back. The Lady! They seek to take the Lady! The horrible realization dawned upon the host of spiders as their lines were broken. Despite fighting back with fang and fury, the arachnids were beaten back. The red rat sank his teeth into the fabric of the Sovereign's cloak, and began to drag her away. Her body was carted up the wall, carried by scores of rats, until it disappeared in the darkness. Furious and ashamed at their defeat, the spiders mourned, tending to their wounds and damaged pride. She will awaken, and come for us. She must.
Bright lights seared my eyes from above, blinding in their brilliance. A harsh noise, like a swarm of locusts, buzzed in the air, and I cringed from the assault on my senses. The noise relented, to be replaced by an insistent tapping. "Is this thing working? Testing, testing-" ...What? I blinked away the spots in my eyes to get a sense of my surroundings.
I was sitting down, in a plush red chair, my arms bound to the armrests by thick rope. Above me was a spotlight, and below was a wooden platform curtained off on the sides by massive red drapes. And before me was a massive seating area, packed to the brim by people in colorful, ostentatious full-body costumes. While the vast majority looked like ordinary people, some were clearly inhuman in their proportions. Of those with visible faces, they looked eager, with wide smiles and attentive eyes. "Guess it's on, then!" The voice from earlier rang out. I whipped my head side to side in search of its source, and found on my right a red-haired girl in a tartan skirt and white button-down shirt. Her smile was the brightest of any in the room, clean white teeth on prominent display. The sight intrinsically disgusted me, something about it screaming fake to me.
"Welcome, everybody, to this year's edition of Earth Bet's Biggest Bitch Bonanza! What year is it, you ask? Well," her face evaporated into mist, replaced with a cat's visage bearing an uncannily human smirk. "Time works in strange ways, in Drangleic." Just as suddenly, her face reformed into a pretty, smiling girl's. "Now, we had some strong contenders this time around! Really, is there something in the water?" Laughs were had all around, especially from a massive figure in the back, four unevenly-spaced luminous green eyes twinkling in mirth. "But there can only be one winner! Now, some of you worked really hard to get here, so don't let me make light of your efforts! How about a speech from our nine-year uninterrupted bitch-queen? You know her, you're pants-shittingly terrified of her- The Simurgh! Come on, Simi!" From behind me, something moved forward. As it entered my line of sight, cold fear worked its way down my spine, like a drop of icy water. A giant woman, well over five times as big as me, nude save for the countless wings covering her body. They were countless in the truest sense- every time I tried, the number seemed to change. The figure stared down at me, porcelain face and dead, gray eyes seemingly bemused by my confusion and fear.
The inhuman creature stepped up to the podium the red-haired girl had occupied, and levitated the small wooden box up closer to her face. She cleared her throat once, and then, without parting her lips, she screamed. The sound tore through my mind, casting aside my every thought and secret without a care. My nails dug into the armrest as I struggled to get away, anywhere but here, but I couldn't budge. In the crowd, people laughed heartily at some perceived joke in the 'speech'. A stern-looking woman in black with a tower emblazoned on her chest broke her stony expression to release a single snort of laughter, and a cluster of flies flew from her nose as she did. Further away, a man in a white, feathery costume was brought to tears. The tear slithered and crawled down his cheek, and was joined by several other writhing white things- maggots. The creature floated away, the soft smirk on her lips still etched into my mind, and she was replaced by the redhead once more.
"And there you have it, folks! Good old Simurgh- what a bitch! Well, let me tell you, she's nothing compared to our Queen Bitch of the night! Let's all give a warm welcome to the Swarm Queen herself, the Eighth Plague of Egypt, the absolute biggest, baddest bitch in the worlds- Taylor!" Wild claps and cheers consumed the air, and a chant was started. Queen Bee! Queen Bee! Tears flooded my eyes, and words poured out.
"I'm not, I'm not! E-Emma, tell them! Please!" I twisted my body in the chair, trying to reach out to her. She sauntered over to me, and the crowd literally fell away, the platform dropping into nothingness. All that was left was the girl I'd called Emma and myself.
"Tell them what, Taylor? Tell them it was all my fault? That I made you do all those awful things?" She slapped me across the face, impossibly strong for her tiny frame, and I was sent sprawling onto the ground, the chair melting into mist. "I didn't pull the trigger on Coil. I didn't kill one of Earth's greatest heroes. I didn't shoot a baby! You terrorized and murdered your way into importance. All I did was pick on one meaningless nobody! And you call me a bitch," she snorted. "It's time you got your trophy."
Dread consumed me. "No, no, please, no!" I crawled on the floor towards her, clinging to her foot. She kicked me in the face, sending me flying back once more.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Taylor Hebert! From nothing to nightmare, and now she's back at it again, ruining people's lives in a whole new world! Bring out the trophy!" A curtain to the side was parted, and a team of men in uniforms brought out a life-sized giant golden statue. It was a bearded man in a white leotard, eyes consumed in grief. The statue was so lifelike, almost like it could-
The golden man stepped forwards, a silent cry of fury on his lips. I scrambled away, but in a single blink, he was before me, gripping my right arm tightly. With a yanking motion, it was torn off and cast away as so much trash. Walls of steel rose around me, and I hastily got to my feet to escape being crushed between them. The walls closed in, tighter and tighter, a slatted door my only source of light. I pounded and pounded on it, fists bloody from the uneven metal, as a foul bile rose up around my feet. Things crawled around my legs, the rancid slurry rising up behind them, and I screamed myself hoarse until my mouth filled with tiny, chitinous bodies. As my eyes darkened, I saw a pearly white smile and red hair through the gaps in the metal. "This is who you'll always be... Sis."
I screamed through the stuffing in my mouth, the fabric binding- ...fabric? It felt more real, more present... I was dreaming. A horrible nightmare. But what had happened before that? I was following that damn cat, and then... Falling, and a horrible crunch. I died. How was I alive, then?
I struggled at the fabric, eventually finding purchase and unbinding my arm and legs, then hastily removed the shroud from my face. The fabric naturally settled over my body as a robe, and seeing as my shirt and trousers were missing, I saw no good reason to get rid of it. The reassuring weight on my hip meant I was still armed, and the soft warmth on my shoulders indicated I still had the Herald's cloak. However... where were my friends?
I remain, my Lady, a reassuring presence from the nape of my neck chittered. I am She-who-plots-cleverly, and I will not leave your side.
"Where am I? How did I get here? Why am I not dead?!" I whispered, unsure of my surroundings. My body was absolutely filthy, covered in dirt and sludge I couldn't even begin to guess the origins of.
You needn't speak, Great Sovereign. The whispers of your soul are as passionate speeches to our kind. Do not let the foul rats overhear our plans!
And just how did that work? The foreign presence inside me- fragments of another soul, according to both the Herald and Shalquoir- whispered terrible secrets and dark knowledge to me, but it knew nothing of the spiders. Was it a remnant of my former life, then?
I know not, my Lady. These questions must wait for when we are safe! You've been taken by the Rat King, and must escape!
The Rat King? Shalquoir had mentioned him- had warned me. He'd likely take offense that the spiders called me Vermin-Queen, she'd said. I looked about the small cavern I was in for any clue on how to proceed. It was a tiny space of carved, smooth stone, lit by a single candle and with rotting wooden planks forming a makeshift door. There was no exit but that, and I had no clue what was outside.
I can sneak out, and inform you of what awaits, my friend whispered. I tried to form the words in response, rather than just let her... read my mind, or whatever it was she'd done. Working in reverse from hearing her own speech, I tried to send out the message through my soul.
Can't let do, it came out. She-who-plots-cleverly- and wasn't that a mouthful- chittered quietly- laughter, I realized.
Your pronunciation and grammar needs work, my Lady, she bemusedly commented. You are concerned for my safety, then? I took my time piecing together the unsounds, forming words in a language unspeakable by human lips.
I am. You're my only ally right now. I can't risk you dying. If it's just a bunch of rats, I think I can manage. A faint sense of pride wafted off the small spider.
My life is for your cause, my Lady! She immediately argued. I felt her bunch up against me, legs retracting, as she replied in a much more subdued manner. Of course, your keen tactical mind is sound. I am of little use dead, and mere rats are of little threat to one of your splendor. What good is a mere three-span rat with petrifying venom against a ten-span human armed with such a fierce fang? She danced across my skin to touch the dagger on my side reverently. Her words made me do some quick math, however, and I didn't like the numbers I was getting.
Sorry, but... how big is a span? I really hoped I was wrong about this...
A leg-span, my Lady. A mature soldier-spider's body from furthest leg outstretched to the other. That was about... seven inches?
You're saying these rats are a third of my size, with venom that can turn flesh to stone? Please, let this be an awful joke.
Yes, my Lady! Such fearsome opponents, the rats are. No such threat to your might, of course. The Sovereign's Shroud offers protection against such venoms!
And the Sovereign's Shroud is...?
Thine robe, Great Queen. Woven by the finest artisans, bearing the greatest moments of our history! I looked down at the garment, fascinated by the candle's light dancing off the gleaming black and gold threads. Alien script was woven along its edges, alternating patterns of jagged lines and fine, flowing curves, and images of strange spider-human hybrids fighting off demonic creatures appeared in the light of the fire, only to disappear when I moved my body in a certain way. The spiders made me magic clothes. Oh man, Parian would be so... Who? New images burned in my mind, of a young woman dressed as a doll nervously fretting the hem of her skirt before me. I'd tried to... recruit her, for something. The complete memory danced just beyond my finger tips, leaving me with mere glimpses and flashes of pain. I grit my teeth against it, holding my head.
My Sovereign, my tiny friend cautiously spoke, are you well?
My soul, I replied slowly. It's... damaged. In pieces. Disjointed. I don't know how. I felt her body tremble against me, a leg cautiously raised towards my center.
You were... Shattered? And survived? She exploded into a burst of motion, dancing along my spine, legs waving around. Greatest Sovereign! Immortal and wise, beautiful and terrible!
Stop that! I rebuked. You're tickling me. I didn't have the patience to deal with her praise, or find out just why she was so in awe of me. We need to leave. I unsheathed my dagger, crossing it into a guard as I warily opened the door.
"Ahh, mine most honoured guest. Carest thou to join in mine feast?" Just outside my little hole in the wall was the biggest rat I'd ever seen. The size of a medium dog, the creature's beady red eyes reflected the candle light as it gnawed on a skull. The Rat King, She-who-plots-cleverly warned. His honeyed words bear no fruit. Listen not to his promises.
"I'm... not hungry," I replied, blanching at the sight.
"Very well. I have offered in hospitality, it is thine right to reject, painful as it may be to mine sensibilities. I am the Rat King, an eminently noble and beautiful being." I choked down my snort of disbelief, out of caution for those absolutely massive teeth bearing down on the skull between his paws. He was perched on a tiny outcropping formed of a pile of such bones, in a wider cavern. On either side of us were holes in the walls, connecting to stonework. Human structures below Majula? I stooped to exit the tiny room I was in, my friend hiding beneath my hair and shivering, the poor thing. "Thou wouldst bare a weapon before a King? Esteemed guest though thou mayest be, this is a slight to mineself and mine Kingdom. I must demand that blade be returned to its sheath!" His voice, previously cold and rasping, grew closer to the natural sounds of a squealing rat as his eyes alit on my dagger. I cautiously kept my eyes on him as I did as he asked.
"Why am I here, Rat King? Why did you call me?" His brow contorted in confusion.
"Why wouldst I callest thou? Thou'rt a foreign Queen, diplomacy must be observed! I brought thine cold, lifeless body so it could serve as sustenance for mine children. Upon the revelation that thine death was false, I instead held thine corpse safe until thine revival. Am I not a selfless creature?"
Is he lying? I asked the spider.
The Rat King is no liar, she slowly replied. Delusional, egotistical, perhaps insane, but not dishonest. I doubt he would confess to wanting to eat you, but not summoning you.
"Then... I'm free to leave? You've kept my body safe, and I... thank you." The words felt so very odd in my mouth, directed at this disgusting creature of all things.
"So hastily, mine fellow noble? Word has reached mine ears, of the undying loyalty of the Arachnidae towards thine person. Wouldst thou not indulge mine curiosity? Tell me, how did a human win the esteemed loyalty of mine fellow vermin?"
Go, and tell the others I may need them. Gather as many as you safely can and hide on the ceiling, in the chamber to my left. She-who-plots-cleverly skittered down my leg and onto the ground, and I moved further into the chamber to obscure her as she followed my orders silently. "I don't know," I replied to the Rat King. "I woke by the fire, in the village above. The spiders called me Sovereign." His beady eyes narrowed as he considered my words.
"A woman from the Flame... Mayhaps 'tis prophecy? Foreknowledge of thine arrival, the Arachnidae wouldst possess such... Thou'rt bereft of the Curse, as well, yet life inhabits thine still-walking body, despite the cold touch of death! Art thou human? Truly?"
"I'm plenty human," I sharply replied. "Whatever happened to me, that hasn't changed." His lips pulled back in a smile, or perhaps a snarl.
"I see," he crooned. "Thou'rt touched by the Abyss, a dark deeper than Dark. I smell its cold depths on thine skin!"
"What are you talking about?" The spiders were still silent, yet to arrive. I could barely feel them, on the edge of my consciousness, but they needed more time.
"The soul of Manus, dearest Sovereign. The history of Man is tied unseverably to that of Verminkind, and that most ancient of beings, his tale has been passed down for millennia. Legends claim that great figure was slain in battle, but whispers of far lands from mine subjects tell a different story. Of foreign queens, bearing that odious stench of the Darkest of souls, corrupting kingdoms to their wills! The sunken city of Shulva, the frozen wastes of Eleum Loyce, the distant Tower of Brume, even this very kingdom of Drangleic, all twisted into Darkness! In mine eminent wisdom, I had believed mine own Kingdom of Rats to be safe from this corruption. Couldst mine beliefs be misplaced? Couldst thou be a fifth Daughter, sent to claim the throne of the Vermin? I shan't abide it!" I backed away, closer to the left hole in the wall. I felt as the spiders settled into place, lines of silk at the ready.
"I'm not after anybody's kingdom," I argued as I backed further onto the edge. "I don't know what I want! I just woke up here, and it seems like everybody but me knows who I am! The people above think I'm an awful witch, the spiders think I'm a perfect queen, and you think I'm one of these... fragments of Manus? Fuck off and let me figure things out on my own!"
"Vile tongue, unworthy of mine ears!" The Rat King was screeching, now. "MINE SUBJECTS! REMOVE THIS STAIN UPON OUR KINGDOM!" He scurried off into a tunnel behind his outcropping as I drew my dagger. The sound of hundreds, if not thousands of clawed feet scratching against stone filled the air. Behind me was an open stone chamber, and a fifty-foot drop into what looked like a tomb, full of sarcophagi. As the first of the horde of rats entered the small cavern, I leaped backwards, seemingly to my doom.
Our Lady lives! Protect the Sovereign! A battle-cry of chittering mandibles rang out, as I was caught in the silk lines dangling from the ceiling. My soldiers safely lowered me to the ground before cutting the line, and I landed on my feet. Behind me, an army of rats was charging at me, pouring out of gaps in the walls. The first few were caught up in the silk and set upon by the spiders as I sprinted out of the tomb. A pair of spiders clambered up to my shoulders and head, one perching on top of my hair to peer behind me. Deeper, our Lady! The only way out is down! The tidal wave of rats broke through the spider's defenses, pouring over each other in their haste to get to me, and I realized they were indeed gaining on me. Out of the tomb, I entered a longer stretch of tunnel, the rats right on my heels. The spiders ran as fast as their tiny legs could carry them, but they were quickly falling behind. Instead, they set to barricading the entrance to the tomb, hastily weaving web across the oddly skull-shaped rocky outcropping that marked it. The rats that fell into the web only added to the blockade.
As the exit neared, a brickwork arch leading into the well I'd fallen down, I felt the first bite on my ankle, and fell. The spiders chittered in impotent rage as the rats immediately buried me beneath their matted, furry bodies, teeth scrabbling against the durable fabric of my robes. Still, the sheer weight of their bodies drove the breath from my lungs, and plenty crawled under the fabric to bite at my legs. I felt the venom pour through me, muscles turning stiff and numb as it raced up my veins. Hundreds of feet scrabbled against my skin and pawed at me through the fabric, pressing on my face, biting at my ears. And I felt it, then: the cracks in my Soul. Such deep, fascinating Darkness... Sensation fled from my body, but I didn't mind. It was a relief from the incessant scrabbling, the chittering and chattering, and it let me concentrate on that so-very-curious thing in my Soul.
The Abyss yawned wide behind my eyes. The Dark Soul, the sheer endless possibilities of Humanity. Here, in the Abyss, it was... stagnant. Those possibilities remained as mere potential, never to be fulfilled. What if I were to... let it out?
With a falling sensation, I was shoved back into my body. Feeling rushed back into my limbs, my senses restored, and I was greeted with the screams of the dying and the heat of pitch-black flames filling the cavern. Rats were roasted alive, curling in on themselves before their muscles disintegrated in the heat. The spiders watched in silence from the ceiling, the flames licking against them without harming a single one. Every last one of them bore a white, shining light in their eyes, while their bodies had turned a pitch black. And I felt them, a solid presence in my mind. Mine to command, their bodies and lives bent to my will, their senses my own. So familiar, so right. I felt it, in their minds, the sheer, noble expanse of their history, the arts and epics they'd woven, the culture this overlooked race of graceful beings possessed. And I discarded all of it as useless to me in this single fight. The flames rushed down the tunnel, into the tomb, washing over the horde of rats in an instead. Their screams of pain and fury were ignored, until they made no more noise. In that moment of complete and utter victory, I felt so very hollow. An empty vessel, ready to be filled, drip-fed the blood of countless battlefields.
My Sovereign, you must stop this! A firm presence intoned from my throat, her fangs pressed firmly against my skin. An elderly, six-legged spider, her carapace rapidly shifting between pitch-black and its natural mottled brown. Your Soul is still so frail, so fragile, and the fragments still raw from the Shattering. Do not let it burn out against these feeble foes. The fire died down, receding into me, the tongues of flame absorbed into my body. With the flame, came Humanity. The spiders reverted to their natural colors, and I was overcome by a cold, bone-deep weariness. As I fell to my knees, the spider on my throat curled its legs up and fell. I hastily caught it in my hand, eyes wide in concern. Resisting your will is... Difficult, my Lady. I am not the young weaver I once was. Remember She-who-reads-the-Webs-somberly, and remember my warning. The elderly spider spasmed once in my hands before falling still, dead. A hush fell over the host of spiders as I gazed sorrowfully at her. She'd saved me from something terrible, that much I was sure of. I could only thank her by heeding her warning.
"...let's get out of here," I mumbled. I rose to my feet, placing the body of my savior on the ground as I collected my dagger. Her fellow spiders reverently carried her body on their backs, as we strode out of the tunnel. Outside, in the well proper, was a series of wooden planks spiraling down into a cistern. The spiders silently spun ropes of silk, which I awkwardly clambered down with my single hand, until reaching the bottom. Scores of mummified rats and spiders turned to stone littered the floor, along with a small puddle of blood. Just what had happened here? Still, the spiders remained totally silent.
I'm... sorry, I tried. For controlling you. It won't happen again.
Please, never again! whimpered one especially tiny spider. It was hushed by a larger one, who spoke for the group. She-who-reads-the-Webs-somberly has fallen. Let us mourn, and learn from this, my Lady. I nodded, accepting the rebuke. Without another word, we trekked deeper into the tunnels.