She watched as her creations moved.
They smiled at each other and waved as they went about their chores. Some sang while others worked the fields.
Her Thread Golems needed no food for substance, but it was important for them to perform 'regular' tasks anyways.
This thread of Belavierr Donamia's mind wasn't aware of WHY the Thread Golems had been made. What purpose there was in making a facsimile of a village in the Kingdom of Shade she didn't know. Her focus was on managing them and making improvements so that they would appear more 'human'.
It was a difficult task.
Humans were messy.
Everyone was messy.
They constantly did or said things that weren't important.
Thread Golems did none of that on their own, so Belavierr was forced to do it for them.
Why?
Because that was what she was supposed to do. The farmer raised his hand and waved at the passing woman. The threads inside the woman's face pulled her cheeks up to stretch her lips. Threads in the lips themselves were tightened.
Too much. More slack.
Relax the tendon-thread of the jaw.
Pull the thread of the nose, just a little.
Now for the eyes. These adjustments were far smaller and precise. A wrinkling at the edges. A pull at the lids to open them ever so slightly.
This made slack in the forehead which had to be made taunt in turn.
There. A smile. A perfectly natural and normal smile. She was sure of it.
Done with her micro-management, the thread of thought let the smile collapse as it turned its attention to another golem. The singer. That... was still a work in progress.
Magic was currently being used to weave the notes and chords into a-
Fire!
Fire burned her!
Belavierr screamed as her thread was consumed in vengeful flames.
-
Belavierr Donamia went over her collection of artifacts.
It had been a long time since she'd taken an inventory. Time and threads of thought that were better spent elsewhere.
Now she had a new item for her collection and she needed to keep everything sorted.
Where to put it?
Next to the Unicorn hair?
There was some logic there. Magical parts from a creature. Rare. Powerful.
The Marionette of a Gnoll?
Controlled. Moved when its strings were pulled. Could be useful in defense.
A pair of scissors enchanted by a level 71 Half-Giant [Seamstress]?
No. No similarities there.
Silk from the Magic-Eater Spiders of Balerous?
It could counter magic. It could also be invisible to the eye, but that was a very weak and temperamental effect. It wasn't nearly as good at it as a Cloak of Invisibility.
A Cloak of Invisibility?
The new item could replicate that effect, but not as good.
A mana potion made by a [Sage]?
The new item had far more mana but couldn't be used... Actually, the mana potion should be moved to 'collectibles'. Belavierr had many more potions of much higher quality. [Alchemists] of the current era were becoming quite competent at brewing them.
In fact, she should-
Fire!
Fire burned her!
Belavierr screamed as her thread was consumed in flames of hatred.
...
Belavierr spun herself immortality.
She didn't remember what defenses she had first woven around herself.
Was it the heart of the Phoenix she'd eaten? The last of its kind.
Was it the secret way to animate her body as the ancient [Necromancer] had taught her?
Or was it one of the countless contracts she'd made? Where death would be passed on to the woman in her place? A fine reward for a fine deed.
She'd sealed away her heart. Both literally and figuratively. Wrapped in a web so thick that it resembled more of a metaphysical cocoon.
Yet still she wove.
She was the immortal spider. The Witch of Webs. She could sew a soul to a body. Stitch space and time. Weave a tapestry of lives. Most of all, she had to live.
Thus, the part of herself that she'd dedicated this most vital task wove threads of substances more ephemeral than a thought. The Craft of [Witches]. All the most wondrous payment that she took from others and hid in her hat would be used for this singularly vital purpose.
And she had a marvelous new material to use.
A Djinni.
A being of Light and Art.
Broken apart strand by strand.
Old, even by her standards.
Yes, it was a good trade some other part of herself had made. Even if it had cost her some of her immortality in exchange, what she would weave would be-
Fire!
Fire burned her!
An inferno made from someone burning their very life and soul!
One by one, her immortalities fell apart. However, this thread of herself was thicker than most, more vital! Even as this part of Belavierr burned she continued to try to weave something to stop the flames.
She failed. The tapestry wasn't as strong as it should have been. Sections were missing. Parts worn away with time or with the meddling of rats that had been beneath her notice!
She had protections from flames. The Phoenix heart - a creature who used fire for rebirth and not-
It burned.
It burned like everything else.
The web she weaved could not stand up to the vengeful flames that raced along it. Flames fueled by a [Knight]'s honor. Flames that used his righteous wrath as kindling. Flames that-
The strongest thread of thought burned to ash.
...
Belavierr stood on a hill and watched the traitor [Hunter] die a slow agonizing death as he hung himself.
Another pact she'd made long ago. An offer extended that she didn't know if it would ever be accepted, but the prize was worth it for the [Hunter] to seek out an opportunity to aid the Stitch Witch in her most dire hour.
She would keep her promise. She would weave a charm from his heartstring, the string of the bow he'd used to kill his comrades in cold blood, and a string plucked from the noose he'd hung himself with. She'd send the charm to his daughter. A charm filled with a traitor's shame and a father's love.
It would protect his daughter from harm and allow her to live a long life freed of the illness that plagued her.
It cost her to make such a thing, but it was worth it - for the [Hunter] who'd marked her had been one of those slain. She could flee from them now.
...Except they'd threatened her daughter.
Belavierr was thinking far more clearly than she had in centuries. Ever since her [Tapestry of Thoughts] had been burnt away in the fight with Sir Raim. Her message to Kaliv had been received, and they flew to wage war on the Order of Seasons so that she would spare the life of their [Prince].
She smiled. Perhaps her first real smile since she'd raised Wiskeria.
Ironic that she'd granted the [Prince] immortality due to her daughter's desires. A gift was no pact, and could be taken back freely without damaging her Craft.
Doubly ironic since she could now see, looking back at it with an un-clouded mind, that her daughter had not wanted her request fulfilled in such a manner.
Triply ironic since the [Hunter] that had turned traitor and killed his own allies had also done so to protect his own child.
Ah, but she could still see her death approaching. And a second death after that.
She might avoid one, but not two. An immortal life was demanded. An immortal would fall. A life would need to be given.
...And she had just the thing under her hat.
With the [Hunter]'s Mark gone, she could weave the scraps of the Djinni into a suitable puppet. A replica of her, but vitally, still alive. Still himself - a Djinni was its magic. He could burn, and it wouldn't touch her.
She would need to bury the threads she wove deep into his being, so those burned last, but she could do it.
She was the Witch of Webs after all.