“That fire wall spell of yours, I presume it has a decent amount of time remaining?” Captain Marshall inquired as the party entered through the sliding glass doors of the train station. She was naturally concerned about lingering too long in the concourse while they regained some stamina after their mad dash through town.

“It’s okay,” panted Warren, equally out of breath. “That spell is spec’d to convert half my remaining mana into a time bonus. Considering I was at one hundred percent, we have just under ninety minutes until that spell dissipates.”

“Half of your available mana each time? That’s a wildly inefficient use of your resources,” the Captain chastised.

“Only because it was the first spell I cast,” the Warlock replied haughtily. “When spec’d like this, fire wall is invaluable as I can always cast it as long as I have two or more mana. The bonus time is in addition to the standard sixty seconds. This spell works best when covering hasty retreats. Trust me on that, Captain.”

Marshall locked eyes with the Warlock. She was unhappy with his tone, but being accustomed to magi and their peculiar ways, she dropped the issue.

“Something is here,” Davey half-whispered. The lieutenant was halfway through retrieving a throwing blade from a hidden pocket in his sleeve when the fine silken threads around the party pulled tight. All at once, each member of the party contorted into living statues of agony as their limbs snapped in different directions. Cooper cried out as the force of having his arm pulled behind his back dislocated his shoulder. Warren might have felt the silken threads when they entered if not for Cypher’s sandskin spell still active.

The Warlock made to cast a spell, but a glob of liquid cobweb was shot into his mouth with expert accuracy from somewhere in the shadows. Cypher was similarly hit. The magus pair looked helplessly at one another. Both of their hands were fastened tight, and both of their mouths were covered. Without either the manual or verbal ability to cast spells, the party was doomed.

“Oh dear,” cooed a soft, melodious voice, dripping with mock sympathy. “It seems you’ve all stumbled into quite the snare. I must admit, I expected more from those who ventured this far into my web. Now, I’m just disappointed at how easily you’ve fallen.”

“Who are you? Show yourself!” Captain Marshall’s command cut through the tension like a blade.

“As you wish, my dear,” the voice purred, and from the darkness above, a figure descended with graceful, almost languid movements, descending on delicate threads of silk.

She was a grotesque parody of femininity, her form a grotesque blend of beauty and horror. Towering over seven feet, her limbs were long and unnervingly numerous—eight in total. Two of them served as legs, while the remaining six functioned as arms, each ending in cruel, articulated claws instead of hands. A cascade of sleek, cobalt hair adorned her limbs, contrasting starkly with the intricate webbing that formed her tattered gown. Her head, disturbingly human-shaped, bore six eyes arrayed like a predatory spider’s and a gaping maw reminiscent of a tarantula’s fanged visage.

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Both Cypher’s and Warren’s MetaTEC devices chimed in unison, their screens flashing warnings.

“Spider Queen. Level Twenty-Seven. Phobos-type manifestation. At current level, withdrawal is advised" the MetaTEC chimed.

Waves of terror echoed from her, spanning outwards, ensnaring them all in the web of fear. Warren felt his pulse quicken, before swallowing the feeling and finding his resolve. He found comfort in having his spells to burn the monster when he wanted, but the others weren't so lucky.

“Bloody hell, you’re a monstrosity,” Captain Marshall spat, her disgust palpable as she surveyed the grotesque figure before her. Her piercing blue eyes narrowed with revulsion. “Cooper, calling her ugly is an insult to ugly things. What’s your take?”

Cooper grimaced, the agony from his dislocated shoulder evident in the tightness of his voice. “Honestly, Captain,” he gritted out, “I’m too busy dealing with this searing pain to give a toss about her appearance. But from your description, I think I’ll keep my eyes shut.”

“Summer, how about you?” Captain Marshall’s voice dripped with caustic humor. “Is she more or less hideous than that one-toothed geezer who was after you in Wye?”

Somerset, tall and solid with an air of sardonic detachment, rolled her eyes with exaggerated disdain. “Oh, she’s worse. Much worse. No contest. At least that fellow had a sort of scruffy charm after a few pints.” Her sardonic remark drew a few dark chuckles from the guardsmen, but Beaumont’s labored breathing cut through the momentary levity like a knife.

“Beau?” Captain Marshall’s tone softened, revealing a sliver of genuine concern. “Sing me a song, Beaumont. Right now. That’s an order.”

But it was too late. Guardsman Beaumont, a stocky figure with the kind of grit that spoke of countless battles, was already ensnared by the Spider Queen’s insidious power. His face, usually set in a determined scowl, was now a mask of terror as the Phobos-type’s malignant aura overwhelmed his mental defenses. The pressure of his encroaching panic distorted his features, turning his breaths into sharp, ragged gasps. His body twitched and spasmed uncontrollably, darkness creeping into his vision as sounds became muffled echoes.

“This little light of mine!” Captain Marshall started to sing, her voice straining with a forced exuberance that clashed with the grim reality. “I’m gonna let it shine! Come on, you miserable lot, sing along!”

Her voice, a desperate attempt to impose normalcy, rang through the station’s cold, echoing emptiness. Despite their efforts, the off-key rendition of the old hymn did nothing to arrest Beaumont’s descent into terror. The discordant harmony offered no reprieve from the suffocating dread. The Spider Queen, her eight limbs weaving a web of malevolence, watched with six glistening eyes full of predatory delight. With effortless ease, she lifted Beaumont’s twitching, convulsing body into the air, turning his agony into a grim display of her cruel prowess.

The guardsmen’s strained voices faltered as they witnessed Beaumont’s helpless form being held aloft. The Spider Queen’s eyes shone with a cruel satisfaction, a grotesque amusement at the tableau of fear she had orchestrated. Her voice, silk-smooth and dripping with malice, cut through the tension like a blade.

“Dinner is always more delightful with a little song,” she purred. “And believe me, darling, the bouquet of your terror is simply exquisite.”

In a grotesque culmination of her sadistic pleasure, the Spider Queen’s fangs descended with a lethal precision, piercing Beaumont’s eyes. The crushing bite drained the last vestiges of his essence, reducing him to a lifeless shell as the life force was siphoned away, leaving only the echoes of his screams and the sinister satisfaction of their demonic captor.