Arachne’s presence was suffocating, her massive form casting an oppressive shadow across the hall. The towering spider titan loomed over the terrified clerics and children, her crimson eyes glinting with malicious intent. Her hissing echoed ominously, sending waves of terror through the citadel. Outside, the sounds of the Gaea Day parade masked their cries for help, leaving them isolated and cut off from the world.

The exits, once open, were now blocked by Arachne’s dark brood. Her spiderlings—shadowy, relentless creatures with gleaming fangs—skittered across the stone floor, creating a web of terror as they surrounded the group. In the chaos, Rena’s voice rang out, sharp and clear.

“Run, children!” she shouted, raising her golden staff high. The tip glowed with a fierce, protective light as she commanded, “Find safety! I will hold her off!”

Margerete and Valencia clung to each other, trembling, until a cleric pulled them toward the inner doors. They moved, but Valencia suddenly broke free, her eyes darting frantically around the room. “Where’s Martin?” she cried, panic thick in her voice.

Rena’s gaze followed Valencia’s line of sight, and amidst the confusion, she spotted Martin—a small figure huddled behind a pew, shaking with fear. But just as she saw him, one of the spiderlings skittered forward, its fangs gleaming as it zeroed in on him. Rena reacted instantly, pushing through the fleeing clerics to reach him.

The spiderling lunged, and in a flash of agony, its fangs pierced her shoulder. Blood seeped through her robes as the sharp sting wracked her body. She cried out but gritted her teeth, gripping her staff with her uninjured arm. Ignoring the pain, she called upon the power of her Golden Nirvana Ring. Light pulsed from the ring, coalescing into a brilliant lance of energy that shot from her staff, impaling the spiderling and driving it back in a blaze of light.

“Stay close to me, Martin,” she whispered, lifting him up with her good arm. “We’re going to the inner sanctum.”

“Keep moving, don’t look back!” Rena urged, her voice taut with desperation as she ushered the trembling children forward. Each step felt heavier than the last as they pushed toward the citadel’s inner sanctum. Around them, spiderlings emerged from every dark crevice, their twisted limbs skittering over stone, their hollow, glassy eyes trained hungrily on the huddled group.

“Why won’t they stop?” one of the younger clerics cried, his voice breaking as he stumbled, clutching a shaking child to his chest.

“Hold fast! Gaea is with us!” Brother Calvus called out, though even his voice wavered. The clerics clutched their holy amulets, reciting verses, their voices tremulous but holding fast to hope.

“No, please!” Valencia cried, clutching Margerete, who squeezed her friend’s hand, whispering, “Just don’t look, don’t look!”

Martin was beside Rena, his small fingers digging into her arm. “Sister Rena, they’re everywhere!” he sobbed, his voice barely a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

Rena bent down to his level, forcing her eyes to meet his, though terror gripped her heart. “Listen to me, Martin,” she said, her voice steady, though every word felt like a prayer against the fear. “We keep going. No matter what happens, I will not let them take you. Keep your eyes on me, and keep walking.”

Ahead of them, a blast of light erupted from her staff as she swung it toward a cluster of spiderlings. Each burst gave them only a moment’s reprieve before more of the creatures surged forward.

Behind her, little Valencia stumbled, sobbing as she clung to Margarete. “I want to go home!” she cried out, her small voice trembling with terror.

“Hush, child. Stay close, please, just stay close,” Another cleric murmured, trying to shield Valencia with her own body as they hurried.

Brother Calvus' voice wavered as he kept his eyes forward. “We’re almost there. Gaea protect us, we’re almost—”

They finally stumbled into the inner sanctum, the last door slamming shut behind them. Yet the walls shuddered, and the hissing of Arachne’s minions echoed louder, closer, seeping into the small, candlelit chamber.

“High Cleric… what now?” one of the clerics whispered, his face pale, his voice barely audible.

Rena looked around at the blood-streaked faces of her brethren, the clerics’ hands trembling as they clutched their staffs, light barely flickering from their desperate attempts to cast their holy arts. Little Valencia and Margarete clung to Rena’s robes, their faces wet with tears, while Martin whimpered, his small hand clutching Rena’s injured shoulder.

“Sister Rena…” Martin whispered, his voice broken. “Are we going to die?”

Rena knelt, placing her hands on his shoulders, her eyes steady. “I need you to trust me, Martin. All of you. Gaea’s light will protect us.”

But the doubt was creeping in, even into her own heart. Behind her, Brother Calvus murmured a shaky prayer, the lines faltering as his voice wavered. The clerics were drained, barely able to stand, their breaths ragged and shallow. They had been cornered, beaten back into the last refuge.

Behind the shutter door, Arachne’s minion slamming endlessly and eventually the door fall.

Rena’s heart pounded as she pressed her fingers to the ring on her hand, feeling its faint warmth. She shut her eyes and whispered, “Gaea… if there is any light left in this place, grant us your strength.”

In the echo of her prayer, a warmth stirred in her hand, faint but growing. Her ring pulsed, a warmth began to radiate from her ring, brighter and brighter, until the golden glow became a blinding surge of light that filled the entire sanctum. The clerics gasped, their despair momentarily broken as they shielded their eyes.. Rena felt a rush of energy surge through her, her heart quickening as she realized this light was not just her own, but the strength of every cleric who had prayed, every child who had held on.

Valencia gasped, clutching Margerete’s hand tighter as the light grew. “Sister Rena, look!” she cried, her face filled with awe.

From this golden light descended twelve angels, their forms ethereal and breathtaking, draped in radiant armor, each holding a sword and shield. They moved with fluid grace, like celestial dancers, their faces serene yet fierce, each of them emanating Gaea’s holy light.

“They’re here,” whispered Brother Calvus, trembling, stared up in amazement. “High Cleric… Gaea has heard you.”

One of the angels extended a hand to Rena, his eyes meeting hers with a depth of understanding that seemed to melt her fear. As his touch met her hand, she felt a rush of healing energy, washing away her pain, filling her with renewed strength.

“We’re safe now,” Valencia murmured, her voice a mix of relief and wonder as she watched the the angels took their positions around the children and clerics, their golden wings creating a barrier of light that repelled the spiderlings, pushing them back into the shadows.

Arachne let out a furious scream from the shadows, her massive form rearing up as she realized her prey was no longer within her reach. With a deadly, rage-fueled speed, she lunged forward, her claws striking the light barrier with an impact that shook the ground.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Rena straightened, her ring now glowing with a brilliant golden aura that cloaked her entire form. With renewed resolve, she nodded to the two angels at her side, who lifted their swords and shielded her.

“Brother Calvus, protect the children!” she commanded, her voice ringing with newfound strength.

But Arachne, furious and undeterred, let out a piercing shriek. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she assessed the angels, recognizing the threat they posed. With a deafening scream, she lunged forward, her enormous legs smashing into the stone floor as she barreled toward Rena. The air around her twisted and darkened, bending light and space as she surged forward, intent on crushing any who stood in her path.

Rena stepped forward, moving in perfect synchrony with the angels, her own form encased in Gaea’s light. She swung her staff with fierce precision, striking down the spiderlings that lunged at her, her motions mirrored by the angels who danced around her, their swords flashing in golden arcs. Each strike was a prayer, each movement a testament to her unbreakable will. “You will not take them,” she declared, her voice unwavering as she met Arachne’s glare. “By the light of Gaea, I will protect them all.”

The children huddled together, clutching one another, their fear momentarily forgotten as they watched the High Cleric wage a glorious, desperate battle.

Valencia, her voice soft, whispered, “She’s… she’s like a real angel.”

Rena pushed forward, closing the distance to Arachne. The titan’s claws scraped against the stone as she charged, but Rena held her ground, moving with the angels in a deadly, graceful rhythm, her staff slashing and thrusting in tandem with the ethereal guardians. They were not just defending—they were pushing Arachne back, inch by inch.

But she felt her strength waning, each strike sapping her remaining power. Summoning every last ounce of her resolve, she raised her staff high, calling upon Gaea’s final judgment. A radiant beam of light descended from the heavens, piercing through the citadel’s ceiling and illuminating the hall with a holy brilliance.

Arachne’s furious shriek echoed one last time as the golden light enveloped her, consuming her monstrous form. She writhed in agony, each limb twisting and melting into the ether as the light overwhelmed her. With one final scream, she collapsed, her dark essence fading until there was nothing left but silence.

The angels stood guard a moment longer, their golden light illuminating the citadel, before slowly turning to Rena and the others. With a soft, reassuring gaze, they extended a quiet blessing to the survivors. Rena, her heart brimming with gratitude, bowed her head in silent thanks, knowing they had been truly saved by Gaea’s grace.

As the golden light faded, Rena collapsed to her knees, breathing heavily. The children and clerics gathered around her, their faces filled with gratitude and awe. Martin, Valencia, and Margarete hugged her tightly, their tears now ones of relief.

Brother Calvus knelt beside her, his voice full of reverence. “High Cleric… Gaea truly blessed us this day.”

Rena looked at each of them, her weary smile warm. “Gaea’s light… will always guide us,” she whispered. “Even in the darkest of places.”

——-

Dust and debris coated the once-pristine floors, and the shattered stained glass windows allowed the cool night breeze to flow into the hall. The children, still trembling from the ordeal, began to gather themselves slowly, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and lingering fear.

Rena Lumius stood in the center of it all, her silver hair now disheveled, her violet eyes softening as she surveyed the aftermath. The angels had dispersed, leaving behind only the warm glow of her Golden Nirvana Ring and the peace that followed in their wake. She glanced down at the ring, still radiant on her finger, its glow gradually fading. This ring, the very one passed down from generation to generation within the House of Lumius, had protected the citadel in ways she had never seen recorded in her family’s history. It was the first time in millennia that something like this had happened.

Turning the ring gently with her thumb, she recalled the ancient text from her studies—fragments of legend that spoke of the one of the "Emperor Rings": ring of light where the pure essence flowed. Could this Golden Nirvana Ring be the one, one of the long-lost Emperor Rings? The thought lingered in her mind, filling her with wonder and a touch of reverence. It felt as though something ancient and profound had awakened within her, something she wasn’t yet fully ready to understand.

A small tug at her robe brought her back to the present, and she looked down to see the children gathering around her. Martin, Valencia, Margerete, and the others, their faces streaked with dust and tears, reached out to her with tentative hands. Without another word, Rena knelt down, and the children wrapped their arms around her, hugging her tightly. The strength of their embrace warmed her, their small hands clutching at her robes as if she were the one true anchor in their world.

“It’s over now, little ones,” Rena murmured, her voice soft yet resolute. "You’re safe.”

Martin clung to his cousin Valencia, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his tunic. Valencia looked up at Rena, her eyes wide with gratitude and awe, while Margerete, still holding Valencia’s hand, peered up with an expression that seemed far older than her seven years.

"Big Sister Rena..." Margerete’s voice trembled as she took a hesitant step forward. "Will… will the spider come back?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the children’s lingering fears. Their innocence had been shattered by the terror they had just endured, and the shadows of doubt threatened to creep back into their hearts.

Rena knelt down to meet Margerete’s eyes, offering her a warm and reassuring smile despite the weight she felt. She gently placed a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. "No, Margerete," Rena said, her voice steady and filled with conviction. "The spider won’t come back. We have defeated her, and her shadows will not return to this sacred place. Gaea watches over us, and as long as we have faith, no darkness can ever take away the light.”

Margerete blinked, her small face scrunching up as she tried to make sense of Rena’s words. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Rena’s smile broadened, and she looked up toward the sky through the broken windows. "Look up, Margerete. What do you see?”

Margerete followed Rena’s gaze, and the other children did the same. Through the shattered remnants of the citadel’s windows, they could see the night sky illuminated by thousands of lanterns floating gently above the holy capital. The lanterns, part of the Gaea Day celebration, filled the heavens with their warm, golden light, each one a symbol of hope, renewal, and the beginning of spring.

The children’s eyes widened in wonder at the sight, their fear slowly melting away as the beauty of the lanterns lifted their spirits. The soft glow of the lights reflected in their wide eyes, a promise that the darkness they had faced was not the end.

"Each lantern represents hope," Rena continued, her voice quiet but resonant. "Just as the stars fill the night sky, these lanterns remind us that even in the darkest of times, there is always light to guide us. Gaea’s love is in every one of those lights, and as long as we hold on to that, no shadow can ever dim it.”

Margerete looked up at Rena, her small hands gripping the edges of her dress. "So, the spider can’t come back because we have the light?”

"Exactly," Rena said, her smile never wavering. "The light is inside all of us, and it is stronger than any shadow. As long as we carry that light, nothing can break us. You were brave today, Margerete. You all were.”

Valencia, still holding Martin’s hand, nodded firmly. "We’re not afraid anymore," she said, squeezing her cousin's hand tighter.

Rena extended her hand to Margerete. “Come,” she said gently. "Let’s all go outside and join the rest of the celebration. It’s time to let the light of Gaea fill our hearts again.”

The children gathered around her, still somewhat shaken but with a renewed sense of hope. The clerics, who had been scattered and fearful during the attack, slowly regained their composure, gathering the remaining children and preparing to lead them out of the citadel.

Rena led the way, her steps steady as she walked toward the large doors at the end of the hall, her golden staff glimmering faintly in the glow of the lanterns. As she opened the doors, the sounds of the festival outside flooded the once-silent citadel—the music, the laughter, the joyous celebration of Gaea Day, now a stark contrast to the terror they had just survived.

The children stepped out into the open air, their eyes still fixed on the lanterns that dotted the sky. The city of Aurelia was alive with celebration, and the sight of the lanterns floating upward seemed to lift the weight from their hearts.

Margerete tugged on Rena’s sleeve as they stood on the steps of the citadel. "Big Sister Rena, do you think Gaea sent those light for us?”

Rena looked down at the girl, her violet eyes filled with warmth. "I think Gaea has always been with us, even in the darkest moments. These lanterns are a reminder that her light never leaves us, even when it seems far away.”

Margerete smiled, her fear replaced by a glimmer of hope. "I’m glad," she said softly, squeezing Rena’s hand.

As the children and clerics watched the lanterns rise higher into the sky, Rena couldn’t help but feel the same sense of peace that had washed over them all. The citadel had been attacked, but it had not fallen. The shadows had tried to consume them, but they had fought back with the light of hope, and they had prevailed.

The light would always return.

Rena, standing tall among the children, looked once more at the glowing lanterns above. As long as we remember that, she thought, the darkness will never win.