Jasper wasn’t entirely surprised by what she’d said. He had figured out the Spectral Spiders were connected to fate in some way or another. So if his cousin was hoping for a big reaction, she didn't get it. “I see,” he said simply. “How does it work?”

S̆anukkat gestured to the colossal beings above them. “There’s no guarantee we’ll see anything at all,” she explained. “Basically, the herbs we drank allow us to walk in this realm for a short period of time. If you’re lucky, one of the Anzuzu may choose to share a fleeting glimpse of the future with you.”

"That's it?" he questioned. "You just hope they show you something."

She smirked. "Well, there are more proactive ways of trying to draw out a vision, things that - how should I put it - couples can do together, but I don't think we're there."

Understanding her immediately, he nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm not exactly an Alistair Crowley sort of dude."

S̆anukkat laughed softly. "Good, because it isn't happening. But, tell me - when I first found you, it looked like one of the Spiders was already communing with you. It wasn't sharing a vision with you?”

Jasper shook his head. “No, or if it was trying to communicate something, I couldn’t understand it what it was saying.”

"How strange. I wonder what it wanted with you, although," a wry grin twisted her lips, “perhaps it would be for the best if you saw nothing. Knowing the future can be as much a curse as a gift.” There was no strange hitch in her voice, but as Jasper glanced over at her, one of those rare moments of intuition came to him.

“I am guessing you were shown something you wish you hadn’t seen on one of your earlier trips.” It was a statement, not a question, and his cousin blinked in surprise at his confidence.

“You could say that,” she replied with a forced lightness.

Not wanting to pry into something so personal, he simply nodded, letting the matter drop. Jasper was surprised, therefore, when she continued. “The last time I was here, one of the Anzuzu showed me something. There wasn’t much to the vision. Just an image of my father weeping over my grave. He didn’t look much older than he does now.”

Jasper didn’t know what to say. “Oh, uh, that’s, uh…I’m sorry.”

She smiled sadly. “It is what it is. Only time will tell if the vision actually comes to pass.”

“Oh? It might not?”

S̆anukkat shrugged. “The visions the Anzuzu show you are what is most likely to happen, but fate is not entirely fixed in stone. There are other forces that can intervene.”

“So you can try to avoid it?”

She snorted. “That would probably be the worst thing I could do. Hell, that’s why I didn’t tell my parents about it. You’ve seen how my father is about your mother. If he knew the fate I had seen, he would be unable to help himself. He would do everything in his power to save me, and in the process, all he would accomplish would be damning me.”

Confusion knit his brows. “What do you mean?”

“The priests always say that the more you struggle against fate, the more tightly it wraps its chains around you. It’s like falling into quicksand. If you thrash and flail, the only thing you'll accomplish is ensuring you sink that much faster. But if you’re calm, if you accept it, then there’s the chance that someone will come along in time to save you. Ironically, inaction is the best action I can take.”

He frowned, not entirely sure if he accepted her explanation or not. The idea of just sitting around, waiting to die, clashed with his every instinct. But she knows a lot more about this world than me. Maybe she's right.

“So…all the partying, then. That’s why?”

S̆anukkat groaned. “Shamsha’s light - even the guards are gossiping about me now?” Suffocating a sigh, she shook her head. “Oh well, I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll have plenty more to talk about.” Her left hand rested protectively over her belly.

There was no hint of a bulge on her flat stomach, but Jasper didn’t need to be a genius to recognize the familiar action. “You’re pregnant?”

“It’s still early, but, yes, I believe Nahrēmah has quickened my womb. A bit of a surprise, all things considered, but a blessing, I think.”

“All things considered?”

“It is a great source of pride in the Royal House to marry an elven woman,” she explained, “but the average fertility between the unions of a Djinn and an elf is quite low. Given enough time, most couples will eventually produce a child or two, but it is rare to have any more than that. My own mother did not conceive me until nearly a hundred years into their marriage, and in the decades since then, has been unable to produce another. She may never. Your mentor was Lady Aphora, was it not?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “I guess?” Jasper wasn’t really sure he would call what Aphora had done to him “mentoring” but he had an appreciation for the respect her name garnered from others.

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“Her parents were together for over three hundred years before conceiving her, and she was the only child they ever had,” S̆anukkat explained. “Now their offspring, like myself, are a little more fertile, but it’s still quite rare for them to ever have more than a few children. I was quite surprised to realize I had conceived in such a short time.”

“It is a good thing, though. It may bring some shame to my parents in the short term, but if I’m fated to die soon, I’m happy that I can at least leave some small piece of me behind. The child will comfort them in my passing and can serve as an heir in my stead, since my father won’t resort to the usual methods.”

Jasper raised an eyebrow. “The usual methods?”

“You know, the bastards?” He blanched slightly at the word, and a flicker of regret passed through her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give offense. Why do you think there are so many, uh, illegitimate children in the Royal House?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t really given it much thought. I kind of figured you all were just a bunch of randy nobles. Plus, in my world, the idea of ‘bastards’ isn’t really a thing any longer. Probably half the population is *technically* bastards, but no one really cares these days.”

“What a strange place your world must be,” she replied, shaking her head in bemusement. “Here, bastards often serve a purpose. Some, of course, are just the fruit of passion, like, well, you, by all accounts,” she twisted her eyes away awkwardly, “but many are conceived on purpose. Most important nobles in the royal clan choose to marry elves, but with fertility so low, there is a serious risk that they could die in battle without ever producing an heir.”

Jasper caught on quickly. “Hence the bastards?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Most choose to have a few spare heirs. That way if they die in battle without producing an heir in their marriage, or if the legitimate heir dies before producing children, the house isn’t left desolate. My father should have sired a few of his own but has always refused to.” She lifted her hand off her belly. “So if my fate truly comes to pass, at least now they won’t be left alone.”

Unsure what else to say, Jasper let the conversation drop. The two walked in silence betwixt the forest of purple pillars, aimlessly wandering beneath the hordes of divine beings. From time to time, one would lift up its head, probing his mind with a piercing shriek, but as the minutes dragged on, Jasper began to think that none were going to share any visions with him. Thank heavens.

He jinxed it. As they passed beneath another tangled web of spiders, he felt a chill ripple down his spine. Jasper ignored the creepy sensation, not even turning around to look behind him. Instead, he picked up his pace, trying to leave the being in the dust. But no matter how fast he walked, the feeling only grew stronger until, unable to stand it any longer, he finally spun around.

It was like a jump-scare out of a movie as he came face to face with one of the beings. I didn’t realize they came down from the pillars. A spider stood only a few feet away from him, and he had no idea how he hadn’t heard the skittering of its feet against the hard crystalline floor. It was smaller than most, its scale closer to that of an elephant than to the behemoths that scampered above his head, but that was still more than large enough to tower over him.

Its carapace was a solid black, lacking the starry galaxies that swirled on its larger peers, and its eyes were almost milky in color, quite unlike the obsidian eyes of the others. A long, jointed leg stretched out toward him, each of the hairy bristles on it as large as a toddler, but he forced himself to hold still, not daring to give offense to the being as the leg grazed his shoulder. No sooner had it touched him than the world fell away.

His vision was dark and blurry, and Jasper squinted his eyes as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He was crouched down on his knees, his hands tied behind his back by thick cords cutting viciously into his wrists. A cowled figure, dressed in a pitch-black tunic loomed above him. Their face was obscured in the shadows, but the voice was unmistakably masculine. “Choose,” the unknown man thundered.

Lifting his eyes, Jasper saw two altars on either side of his captor. A body was bound on each. Their faces were blurred, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on the captives, he could not discern any of their features. There was one detail he could see, though - one had pale, fair skin; the other, the dark red of a djinn.

The man moved his hands, and as he did, a silver medallion fell from beneath his sleeve. It swung wildly in the candlelight, showing one side and then the next. Jasper could make out the signs. One side was two sides bound with a scythe; on the other, a winged lion with the face, and certain other features, of a woman. “Choose,” the cultist thundered again.

He tried to reply, tried to fight back, squirming against his bonds, but the image before him suddenly faded away, replaced by another.

Jasper sat astride Dapplegrim, clad in a gleaming suit of armor. Dozens of armored warriors surrounded him, but all their faces blurred, save for one - an unknown man with the physique of a bear and a giant mace swinging from his waist.

“Today, we reclaim our heritage,” the man roared, drawing a cheer from the onlookers. “No more shall we let this indignity stand, to let the stoneflesh foul our sacred halls - no more! Today, we shall drive them back to the sea from whence they came.”

A roar resounded from the hills surrounding them, and as Jasper turned his eyes away from the unknown man, he saw a mighty city lying before them. Nestled in the hills along the shores, ten great walls encircled it. The walls gleamed in the light of the sun, obviously forged from metal, and he recognized the place immediately. This is the capital city. Isn’t it in the hands of the Zalancthians, though?

The cheers were interrupted though as a messenger galloped across the crest of the hill. “My lord, my lord,” the man cried, throwing himself off the back of his horse. “An army approaches from the west…” The vision faded again.

He found himself sitting in a hard stone chair, pulled close against a matching table. Aphora sat across from him, a strange child sitting beside her with skin the color of stone and hair the color of lilacs. Behind them, a luminous sea glowed faintly. Aphora started to say something, but Jasper heard only two words before the vision faded. “The Sidhe-“

He came to his senses. Jasper was bent on his knees before the strange spider, his body shaking like a leaf as a chill colder than anything he had felt since the first time he had visited Kas̆dael’s realm gripped him. He gasped as the being lightly tapped his shoulder, and a quiet voice echoed in his ear, a voice that was not his cousin’s. Sesseru, it whispered.

“What?” He choked out, not understanding it. But his time in that realm had come to a close. The floor beneath him cracked, then shattered like glass. With a scream, he fell into the void. A moment later his eyes snapped open as the rough feeling of wood grated against his cheek. He was back on the boat.