The door slid open as the red-striped leg walked inside. For a moment, Rivel considered blasting the figure away and declaring war on the treacherous arachnids, damn the consequences, but then he remembered having seen a reg-striped Silkborne of note.

The figure came into full sight and whispered a timid "Lord Rivel, sorry for the intrusion..." Rivel lowered his hands and fell onto his own bed, then he sighed, annoyed.

"The artist, eh? You take a habit of walking into the room of sleeping people?" Then he thought for a moment, "Do you even sleep?"

The figure giggled, which was tremendously disturbing for a human-sized spider.

"Well, we don't sleep like you do, Lord Rivel. We don't have eyelids either, so there's that. Sorry I came unannounced; it's just that the officials have spread the news that you're departing tomorrow, and I'm sad to see you go. I was hoping you'd stay a little longer, but at least I'd like to say my goodbyes properly. You saved my life, you know?"

Rivel scratched his head and shrugged, laying down.

"I had a deal with the queen. She was supposed to help me in exchange for that little trick, eh, the summoning of deep, complex arcane magika. But she backed down on the deal, and now she's having me leave this place, basically banishing me. What did they tell you?" Rivel couldn't be sure, as he was averting his sight from the arachnid, but he guessed from the corner of his eye that the figure was taken aback.

"That's horrible! How could she do that? She simply said that you had important matters to attend to and couldn't delay your departure..."

A devious, Machiavellian idea suddenly popped into Rivel's brain, like a bright bulb suddenly lighting up. He felt the urge to slap his head at how obvious it should have been for him, but he had to keep a composed profile. He sat back up and asked:

"What do you mean when you say that I saved your life? Also, I think I didn't quite catch your name..." Rivel held back a smile; he wasn't sure of the insect's ability to read humanoid facial expressions.

"That's it, Rivel. Build a relationship; she already trusts you." He thought

"I'm Neith, foremost disciple at artistic silk-weaving. Nice to meet you! Heh, sorry I couldn't resist. I mean that with the war going about and supplies being scarce, the Queen had Arkyne make a list of the most important members to the nest, and artists were at the bottom. Well, apart from children and the elderly, that is. But I think you already noticed that."

Her face darkened for a moment, but she went back to her cheery self in a flash.

"So you saved my life twice! Once in the obvious way, and twice because a life without art wouldn't be a life at all."

Rivel pondered for a minute, "I can't believe I'm doing this..." and then motioned her to get closer.

Neith got within arm's reach, shyly taking a small step after the other, and then, for the first time, Rivel looked at her directly. His eyes were like raging thunderstorms, furious and passionate, purple like amethyst and intense, more intense than she ever thought possible.

He whispered to the side of her head, probably thinking that's where her "ears" were, which she found a little cute.

"Neith, I would've brought a whole new era to the Silkborne if the Queen had allowed me to aid you. Imagine a cave that shines bright at all hours, for no one hungers for lightbugs anymore. Imagine a metropolis where every building is of fine, polished obsidian, and silk-woven art covers every corner, your art. A city protected by my magic, where no force dared to attack, and no Silkborne would even consider putting a price on another's life. Imagine, if only..."

He grabbed her head softly and leaned towards her maw, kissing softly the sharp, venom-coated mandibles. Even as the poison made his lips numb, he went in further, searching for whatever equivalent she had for a mouth.

He rolled his tongue into her buccal cavity and shut his eyes, trying to spare himself the details, but his tongue gave him so much more than his eyes could. He felt how his lips got stabbed by tiny spike-like teeth around the vertical slit as his tongue went inside and further felt some kind of itchy fur or poisoned hair inside her mouth. Feelers, perhaps? He kept navigating inside, looking for her tongue, but found none, just a big hollow.

He pulled away a little and gasped discreetly for air.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Neith, would you like to be my Queen?"

The spider started quivering and, without answering, simply skipped away, leaving the door open. Rivel touched his lips; they were starting to swell.

"This damn creature can even poison the dead. God, I swear that if I used my charm spell and went through all that for nothing, the entire Silkborne species will meet its doom."

He fell back on his bed and fell fast asleep. He had a nightmare where he navigated a forest of twisted, prickly trees, looking for something or someone, yet only found dead pigs, all half-rotten. Some said dreams were like being detached from oneself, but for Rivel, that night, the stench that came from the dead bodies or the thorns that dug into his flesh couldn't feel more real.

"Time to wake, outsider. I came to escort you to the surface." The sight of a brownish spider, whose skin was transparent enough to see the organs inside him, welcomed Rivel, luckily, he wasn't in a nightmare anymore.

He considered his next steps; clearly, his magic hadn't been strong enough. He didn't prepare any incantations or sacrifices because he assumed the creature already fancied him, and that a little push coupled with any living creature's inherent lust and greed would suffice to make her loyal to his cause. Overconfidence can sometimes prove fatal... to others, that is. Because now it was war.

Rivel felt his face with his hand and found everything normal, at least. He shuddered at the thought of what he would have had to do if the spider yielded to his will; much better this way.

"True is the saying that if the Gods really hate you, they turn your dreams true. Yes, much better this way. I'm blasting these bugs into oblivion." He couldn't help but wince a little at the thought that it was his pride speaking, that it was all spite for having been rejected.

"By a spider, no less. A filthy bug rejected me, High Magus Rivel..." He shook his head. The would-be escort crab-spider looked puzzled at the spectacle of shifting emotions the outsider was having. He also smelled strangely familiar... The escort narrowed his eyes and shook his head, infected by the outsider's doubt-filled self, then huffed at the realization and spat out:

"Are we going or what? I have duties to attend to; we're in the middle of a war, in case you've forgotten, outsider."

Rivel withheld the desire to blast him away, here and there, and instead decided to backstab him near the surface. If he was going to war against them, he could apply the enemy-of-my-enemy policy, though he still wasn't sure where or who the creatures they were waging against were. If they were competing for resources, the most likely thing is that it was another anthropod creature of sorts, in which case it would go against purpose to ally with them.

He decided to do the backstabbing first and the thinking later, as he walked along with the guard. The spider-city, whose name would remain unknown, slowly faded away with each turn he made in the tunnel system. He started feeling the blood pulse through the insect, how life cycled through him like an ethereal ghost within his translucent shell. It was small, petty, barely a snack.

"How long until we reach the surface?" asked Rivel with a deep, raspy voice.

"Long," scantily said the escort. Rivel's patience was over. He had waited three days, maybe four, perhaps even more, as he had lost count of the hours he kept himself immersed, thinking to avoid the desire.

He pounded on the insect like a feral ghoul, and the spider quickly reacted, half-expecting this outcome. This one was firmly planted in the ground (partly thanks to his physique) and resisted the blow, answering with one of his own.

Rivel didn't care that the envenomed fangs dug into his arm, for he was too busy trying to shred the offending creature to pieces with his claws.

This turned into a dirty scuffle on the ground as both tried to tear and rip apart the other, but the more seconds passed, the more Rivel was pushed into a dire situation. His wounds piled up; his mind dulled as the poison set in, and his movements became too lethargic.

Rivel tried hard to pound on the hard chitin, but his attacks were like those of an angry man on his deathbed. The spider simply gave him a backhanded blow and threw him against the rocks.

The spider clicked his maws menacingly.

"Arkyne and I tried to warn the Queen about you, but she insisted on using you. Times of need and all that. The only thing I'm grateful for is not having to walk all the way to the surface, pretending you're not a treacherous worm. Hey, any last words, Great Lord Rivel?"

A spark of reason brought by the close grasp of death ignited in his mind, and he pushed himself against the rocks to sit and gain a little breath. Coughing through the blood, he pointed an accusing finger at the hungry guard.

"With every breath, a chill spreads like night

In her cold grasp, you fade away

A withering flower trapped in eternal shade"

The arachnid advanced towards his prey, clicking his maws, amused by the jest.

"What clown would..." Then he suddenly stopped, feeling lightheaded. He shifted his blurry eyesight to his body, where endless streams of blue flowed out. As his body was depleted, a deathly cold gripped him; he struggled to keep his soul inside, but a curious feeling of abandonment took him rapturous, like he suddenly didn't care about a thing – the Queen, the hive. All he wanted was to rest.

"It's hard a life where you can't ever close your eyes," he said with a last sigh.

Rivel stood atop the corpse, grinning, completely regenerated. His battered, bloody self had never existed. Better than before, actually. A sweet taste of honey and flowers filled his mouth, and his mind was clear. He felt so happy he even let out a merry chuckle at all the insanity that hunger drove him to do.

Then he looked up and saw a familiar shape that had been walking right behind him all this time. A red-striped arachnid watched him in horror as he stood over the dried husk that was once his brethren.