EPISODE SEVEN: THE SPINDLY WOMAN

Olivia

Birds chirped cheerfully outside the window, their song pulling me from the comforting embrace of sleep. Sunlight streamed into the room, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. I sat up abruptly, my heart racing for a second as I struggled to grasp my surroundings. But the familiar scent of Hector’s dorm quickly reminded me of where I was. Last night’s chaotic battle felt like a distant, haunting memory now that the Blood Moon had dipped below the horizon and the sun had taken its place.

I turned to my side and found Hector still fast asleep, his tousled hair catching the light beautifully. He looked so calm and peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil we had faced. Lying next to him, I felt a fleeting sense of normalcy that made the weight on my shoulders a little lighter. We were both lying on the floor and must have passed out in the late hours of the night after watching the battle rage below us.

Hector stirred, slowly blinking his eyes open, a sleepy smile breaking across his face. “Good morning,” he greeted, his voice a mixture of warmth and grogginess.

“Good morning,” I replied, mirroring his smile, captivated by how vibrant he looked in the sunlight. It was as if he was emitting this soft glow that chased away the remnants of the night’s fears.

He stretched, his arms reaching high above his head, and then turned toward the window, curiosity pulling him from our cozy moment. “What happened?” he asked.

“I'm not sure,” I said, standing up. “I haven't checked yet.”

He stood as well and walked over to the window. I followed, standing beside him as we both peered out.

What lay before us was an unexpected and unsettling sight. The once verdant grass was now marred by patches of black soot, as if someone had carelessly set small fires all over the grounds. Dozens of these dark spots dotted the landscape, stark reminders of the chaotic battle the school had endured. The wall surrounding the grounds was visibly damaged, battered and broken in places—a testament to the fierce conflict that had erupted. I noticed that most of the teachers appeared to have cleared out, and there were no signs of bodies or injuries among their ranks.

“What the hell?” Hector exclaimed, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he took in the grim sight.

I stood frozen next to him, my mind racing to decipher what had transpired overnight. I felt a heavy knot form in my stomach, the answers seeming just out of reach.

Volcan

I stood near the entrance of the school, watching the aftermath of the night’s chaotic battle. The scene was like a twisted canvas—remains of creatures scattered everywhere, reduced to nothing more than piles of blackened ash filled with swirling dark smoke. It was bizarre how easy the fight had been; the beasts crumbled at the slightest blow, dissipating into clouds of soot that danced away on the morning breeze. A stark contrast to the Hellhound on the first night. Despite their overwhelming numbers, these monsters were palpably weaker compared to the terror we had faced yesterday. It was hard to shake the unease settling in my chest; I squeezed the bridge of my nose, feeling a sharp pang that rattled through me, as if my ribs were clamping down on something furious within, eager to break free.

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the fresh morning air wash over me. I’d been waiting for her to emerge last night, but it turned out we were only dealing with her minions. The Hellhounds, Vampires, and Sirens—a vile trio of horrors—had kept us busy through most of the night. The realization hit me hard: Was it possible she only had full control over the creatures tied to souls she collected? If that were true, she was moving alarmingly fast; three out of seven souls were already in her grasp, and who knows how many more were taken during the chaos. I could feel anxiety creeping up on me, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. At this rate, she’d have the entire arsenal around the third nightfall.

“Volcan.”

A deep voice broke my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I turned to see a group of tall men lurking near the edge of the forest, weariness etched on their rugged faces. The sight of them sent a jolt of recognition coursing through me, quickly followed by a wave of white-hot rage. Their clothes were tattered and their eyes sunken, as if they hadn’t slept in days.

One man stepped forward, his long, curly hair flowing wildly in the wind.

“Please,” he said, placing his hand over his chest, desperation oozing from him. “We have nowhere else to go.”

“How dare you step foot on these grounds,” I spat, anger surging through me. “This is a school. There are children here.”

“I know,” he replied, a look of hurt in his eyes. “But we cannot resist her call any longer.”

“You're putting us all in danger.”

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly. “But she is coming for us.”

He stepped aside, revealing a small girl, no older than ten, stepping hesitantly from the group. Her wide, frightened eyes reflected a tumult of emotions, while her wild curly hair caught the sunlight, mirroring her father’s untamed mane. A sinking feeling in my gut told me exactly what the man was about to ask.

“Please,” he renewed his gaze, desperation clear in his features. “I only ask this one favor.”

“I’ve already done you enough favors,” I shot back, shaking my head.

“She will come for one of us,” he implored, eyes pleading as they flicked back to his daughter. “I just don’t want it to be her.”

I looked down at the girl, her small frame trembling with fear—not just of me, but of the darkness lurking in herself, the legacy of destruction she had inherited. The Blood Moon had twisted her nature, like so many others affected by the sinister force of the Dark Matron. I exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of my resolve melt.

“Fine,” I finally relented.

“Thank you!” he cried, relief washing over his features. “Chain her up or keep her locked in a cage. Just make sure she’s safe.”

He knelt down, wrapping his arms around the girl in a desperate embrace, his voice thick with emotion. “Isabella,” he choked out, wiping tears from his eyes. “Please stay safe. I will come for you when the Blood Moon has ended.”

She nodded solemnly and hugged him back, her small arms tightening around him as if trying to shield them both from the danger that lurked just beyond the edge of the schoolyard.

Gently, I motioned for her to follow me.

“Let’s go,” I said, urging her toward the school entrance, the dread lingering in the air as we stepped inside.

Her father nodded at me, trust mixed with the lingering fear in his eyes. Together, we moved toward a place of safety, even as the shadows of the impending threat loomed ever closer.

Victoria

The forest was a bleak expanse of cold and oppressive darkness, utterly devoid of the daylight one would expect at this hour. Even with the sun high in the sky, its feeble rays struggled valiantly to breach the thick, gnarled branches overhead. I, accompanied by Dex and Chloe, had ventured several towns over at the behest of anxious locals, their tales replete with mystery and fear. They spoke of neighbors fleeing like frightened animals into the heart of these woods just before sunset, only to vanish without a trace. A grim understanding nagged at me; wandering the forest during a Blood Moon was an invitation to disaster, yet here we were, honor-bound to investigate.

As I inhaled deeply, the jarring metallic scent of blood wafted through the air, clawing at my nostrils and igniting an unwelcome sense of dread. The atmosphere was saturated with the morbid weight of death, as though I could physically feel it pressing down on my chest.

“Headmistress,” Chloe’s gentle but quavering voice cut through my tumultuous thoughts. I pushed through the underbrush toward a small clearing she had discovered, almost dreading what I would find. My heart sank as I beheld the still forms sprawled upon the earth; they were as grotesque as they were pitiful.

One was a small child, with eyes wide and unblinking, frozen in a ghastly tableau. The other—a woman—lay shredded and ravaged, her body marred with bite marks, evidence of the horror that had transpired. A slick pool of blood surrounded her, a grotesque tribute to her life. The child, too, bore the freshly smeared evidence of his mother’s demise, crimson painted around his mouth like a horror-streaked work of art.

I knelt beside the child, my composure teetering on the edge as I reluctantly pried open its mouth. A shudder coursed through me—inside, lurking like some villain from a Gothic tale, were rows of sharp, predatory teeth, reminiscent of a shark's.

“A Changeling,” I spat, disdain lacing my words as I wiped the remnants of blood from my elegantly gloved hands, battling the unwelcome sensation that clung to my skin. It now became painfully clear that the original child had likely long since ceased to exist, replaced by this wretched imposter, leading its mother to a fate as grim as its own.

Yet, as I scrutinized the creature once more, something peculiar caught my eye. The shapeshifter wore a torn tweed vest that dangled unceremoniously over its chest, but lifting it up revealed a large, gaping, charred hole in its torso that held my attention—a grotesque revelation.

“Dammit,” I cursed, frustration bubbling just beneath my polished exterior.

“It’s the same,” Dex chimed in, looming over the scene, his expression grim and serious. “Like the Vampire.”

“So she claims another soul,” I replied, irritation surging within me as I furrowed my brow. “We must report this posthaste; there is simply no time to waste.”

Olivia

I stared out at the murky surface of the swamp, my stomach churning at the sight. It was far more vile than I had imagined. The muddy water had a putrid brownish-green tint, and lazy wisps of steam spiraled up from its bubbling surface. This was Arcane Swamp, a horrid place where all sorts of creatures lurked, yet Volcan had insisted this was where we needed to go.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I turned my head to him. He stood still like a statue, peering out at the vast expanse of water. I couldn’t help but question why he had asked me to tag along, especially since students weren’t allowed off campus grounds.

“Why me?” I had asked hesitantly, furrowing my brow.

“You’re the only one whose survival is assured,” he replied with an air of confidence.

He lifted his arms, and with a powerful gesture, the surface of the water split, forming two waves that leaned in opposite directions. I gasped as the murky layer lifted, revealing that the water beneath was, astonishingly, crystal clear. What I had thought was a small muddy swamp turned out to be a vast, sprawling lake. It became painfully obvious why this place was so dangerous.

Volcan’s eyes focused as he created a pseudo-staircase out of the flowing water, leading deep into the depths of the lake. He let his arms drop to his sides.

“This will hold for a while,” he said, placing his foot on the first step. “But we must be quick.”

I eyed the steps skeptically, my heart racing at the thought of sinking below the surface.

“It’s quite safe,” he reassured me, extending his hand.

With a moment’s hesitation, I took it, feeling the familiar buzz of electricity crackle between us. A few days ago, I had been unsure what it meant. Now, I knew it was a telling sign of the trinkets of Khxlynd’r and Et’r mingling once more. Cautiously, I stepped onto the first step; the water lapped up and splashed my shoes, but to my surprise, it felt solid—like walking on half-melted ice.

Volcan led me down this magical staircase, the water continuing to part as we walked. We were enveloped by crystal-clear walls on either side, but it was eerily still. I couldn’t see any fish or life of any kind. As we reached the bottom of the lake, my feet settled into the sandy flooring.

“There,” Volcan pointed straight ahead, and I squinted. A soft glow pulsed in the distance, beckoning me forward with an otherworldly energy. As we drew closer, the glow revealed itself—a breathtaking white tree, hovering underwater, radiating its own vibrant light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Volcan halted, turning back to me. “Wait here,” he instructed, releasing my hand. Confusion knotted my brow as he moved forward, his hands rising. Black smoke spilled from his palms, swirling around him like a dark cloud. He inhaled deeply and exhaled. He began to speak in a tongue that was foreign to me. His voice resonated with a natural power, almost melodic. It sounded like he was singing. The language was so beautiful that I had to fight the urge not to sing along, despite not knowing the words.

Suddenly, his melody stopped, and silence enveloped us. Then it came—a chorus, dozens of voices harmonizing beautifully, rich and sorrowful enough to bring tears to my eyes. They appeared gradually, encircling the wondrous tree and swimming toward our little air pocket.

There they were—beautiful. Their skin glimmered in shades of green, their hair wispy like seaweed. They glided through the water gracefully, their naked bodies shimmering with iridescent scales. Though their faces weren't exactly human, there was a captivating beauty in their distorted features. Their inky black eyes locked onto mine, and I found myself entranced as they swam closer.

Once more, Volcan raised his voice, echoing a somber response to their song.

“Olivia…” a voice whispered in my mind. “Listen.”

Khxlynd’r’s presence swirled around us like a warm embrace. I focused on the entwining voices, and suddenly I understood their sorrowful song.

“When did this happen?” Volcan asked, his brows drawn together in anguish.

“Last night,” the mermaids chorused. “She came as soon as the Blood Moon rose—a monster, like a spider in the night.”

“What did she take?” Volcan pressed.

“Our youngest,” they answered, bereaved. “She was gifted. The spider came and took her soul. A hole was left where her being once was.”

Volcan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So there are only two more?”

“Three,” the mermaids chanted, their voices intertwining.

“Three?” Volcan questioned, bewildered.

“When she assimilated us, we briefly heard her thoughts, as we can with each other.”

Volcan exchanged a curious glance with the mermaids.

“She must collect all seven of her original creations, plus the one who was created without her permission—a child touched by darkness, but not one of her original creations.”

Nodding slowly, Volcan sighed deeply. “Why is she collecting magical beings?”

“She doesn’t have to,” they responded. “But they give her strength. She’s not powerful enough yet to take Et’r from you, but as she gathers magical souls, she will be.”

“Will you help us?” he pleaded, desperation in his eyes.

“We cannot,” they replied sadly. “We only connected for a moment. Your connection runs deeper, but you cannot use your powers to their full potential.”

They tilted their heads, their obsidian eyes boring into me.

“You are not the right person.”

They gazed at me, and their words echoed within my soul.

“If you find the right person, they might connect with her.”

“Time is of the essence,” they urged. “She knows you are here. She'll return tonight to finish her task. Once she claims her Skinwalker, she will come for the final two. Protect yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Volcan said earnestly, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes.

He turned away from the mesmerizing creatures, making his way back toward me.

“Let’s go,” he urged. “Tonight is going to be a test.”

As we walked along the sandy path toward the staircase, I caught a glimpse of the mermaids gliding away in my peripheral vision. The walls of water hovered high above us, occasionally dripping mist like gentle rain.

“Have you… exhibited any symptoms?” Volcan slowed his pace, his voice barely above a whisper. He placed a hand over his chest, anguish written across his face.

“N-No,” I stuttered. “I feel fine.”

He paused, his eyes shut tightly as though bracing for impact.

“Are you alright?” I asked, concern bubbling within me as I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he lied, but I could feel it—the energy of Et’r within him, pulsing like a storm ready to break. It was angry, restless, clearly waging a war against its vessel.

“Don’t!” I shouted against the force that rattled inside him. “You’ll drown us!”

As if summoned by my frantic words, the walls of water trembled ominously, swaying like a vulnerable tree in the wind.

With a sudden explosion, they fell apart around us. A rush of water slammed into me, knocking the air from my lungs. I was flung backward, disoriented and gasping for breath. Water consumed me, and I desperately kicked toward the surface, panic rising within me as I realized I had no idea how deep we were.

Just as hope slipped away, I felt the warm embrace of Khxlynd’r.

“Olivia,” his voice wrapped around me, calming yet urgent, “I will protect you.”

Suddenly, everything around me glowed red, illuminating the once-dark water. My lungs filled with air, and I marveled at my newfound ability to breathe.

Seeing Volcan floating unconscious nearby, I swam toward him, reaching for his arm. But then his eyes snapped open, black and furious, filled with a hatred that wasn’t his.

He lunged at me, but my hand gripped his wrist, acting on its own.

He sneered at me, and I felt a centuries-old rage pouring from him—an eternal grudge between Khxlynd’r and Et’r.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I propelled us both upward, faster than I thought possible. Breaking through the murky surface, we gasped for air in the open sky, Volcan coughing violently as water spilled from his lungs.

“I’m running out of time,” he choked out between breaths. “Tonight will be our last chance.”

Claire

“Lucas!” I yelled, jolting upright from a blinding nightmare that seemed all too vivid. I shifted in the bed, wincing at the sharp, uncomfortable pain radiating from my leg.

“Claire?” Luke’s voice broke through my fog. He drew back the curtain beside my bed, the flutter of fabric accompanied by a gentle breeze. He was at my side in an instant, wrapping me in a tight embrace.

“You’re awake,” he said, relief washing over his face.

“Ouch,” I exclaimed, struggling against the throbbing pain in my ankle, which was in a hefty cast propped up on a stirrup.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, leaning back to create some space. His chair squeaked as he pulled it closer, desperate to reconnect.

“How long have I been out?” I rubbed my head, trying to shake off the residual drowsiness and the remnants of my haunting dreams.

“A few days,” he replied, his voice suddenly lowering, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured, the weight of his words tangling in the air.

“For what?” I frowned, unable to understand his guilt.

“If I hadn’t frozen you, you wouldn’t be like this now.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration emanating from him.

I let out a short breath, feeling the heat of his concern wrap around me like a warm blanket. “It’s my job to protect you,” I assured him, despite the pit of worry in my stomach. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he insisted, his resolve unwavering. “We’re meant to protect each other. That’s what partners do.”

He was right, of course, but I couldn’t ignore the unsettling feeling of fragility in him. Even with my injury, I felt an overwhelming urge to be the one to shield him—him, Olivia, and all of my other friends.

“Are you alright?” I asked, suddenly noticing how gaunt his face was, the stress of recent events etched into his features. It was clear the Blood Moon was taking a toll on him.

“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice carried a hint of uncertainty. “Better than fine.”

Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. With meticulous care, he unfolded it to reveal a picture of his family. His parents were beaming, cradling a baby Luke in their arms, the joy of their bliss frozen in time. I couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from the photo. He looked so much like his father.

He pointed to his mother, a soft light in his eyes. “I’ve been hearing her voice, and last night, I saw her.”

“You saw her?” My curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer, eager for more.

“She’s here, along with my father,” he continued, his tone serious. “I think it has something to do with the Blood Moon, but they’re here to protect me. I know it.”

“Luke…” I said, letting my voice trail off, uncertainty creeping in. “I don’t think—”

“I know what I saw!” he cut me off, his passion flaring. “I trust them, more than anything in the world.”

He exhaled deeply, and I could see the weight of unshared burdens in his furrowed brow.

“I’ve never told anyone this before,” he started, his voice a fragile thread, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face like a shadow. “When I was born, I wasn’t… alive.” His eyes sank deep into a sorrow that pierced through the air, heavy and thick, making my heart ache. “I was stillborn, and my parents were devastated. It shattered them. You see, they had dreamed of me for so long, and when that dream turned to dust, it was as if their worlds crumbled overnight. My father was so desperate that he used his powers to bring me back to life, to fill me with the breath of existence. But his magic always had a price.”

He paused, searching for words as tears threatened to spill. “It took a heavy toll on him and my mother. They paid dearly for my life. My father spent his days pushing back the shadows, his strength dwindling with every feat of magic he performed. I only got five precious years with him—five years filled with his laughter and stories. But eventually, his powers drained him—took him away from me, leaving an empty space that ache couldn’t fill. My mother, she was lost without him, consumed by grief that twisted and wrapped around her like vines, suffocating her joy until she faded away too. I remember the way she used to look at my father—her eyes alive with love—and then, just like that, they became filled with sorrow. I never understood the full weight of their sacrifice until now. But even as a child, I could feel the loss echoing through our quiet home. Those memories linger, like whispers in the dark, reminding me of everything I lost before I even had the chance to truly appreciate it.”

His finger gently traced the image of his mother, as if he could feel her warmth through the photograph.

“They’ve come back to protect me again,” he said softly, “and I won’t take any time I have with them for granted.”

He handed me the photo, sincerity etched across his features. “Here,” he said. “It was taken by Headmaster Volcan. He and my father were quite close back then.”

I examined the picture intently, tracing the faces of his family, and then flipped it over. There, written in Volcan’s elaborate script, were a few simple words: Julia, Marcus, and baby Lucas.