Pip stepped out of the pleasant shade of the palm trees and marched toward the small opening in the rugged rock bed.
His cloak, a deep ebony fabric, rustled softly in the slight wind as he moved, providing a stark contrast to the arid, sun-scorched landscape around him. The relief from the oppressive heat was immediate. He despised visiting this remote, sun-baked corner of the Talmar continent, where even the rocks seemed to surrender to the relentless heat, resembling molten giants frozen in agony. It was the kind of place that would make even hellhounds seek solace in the shade.
But duty called, and he was ordered to visit an old acquaintance. The unforgiving sun bore down on him as he made his way toward the small opening. He touched the reddish rock, feeling heat travel up his outstretched palm. A rare grimace of discomfort twisted his otherwise stoic face. Pip wished he didn't have to restrain his powers and experience the world as a mere mortal, but the so-called queen of this unforgiving land was notoriously prickly and demanded respect even from her fellow Gods.
Taking a deep, sweltering breath, he felt a bead of sweat run down his spine as he entered the shadowy opening. The only sign of her presence was the swaying webs, intricately woven by the queen's minions, hanging in patches to his left and right. These gossamer threads glistened and shimmered like proud flags, their delicate forms reflecting the soft, rosy light of the setting sun.
As soon as he stepped inside, a welcome chill descended, transforming the stifling heat into a pleasant and temperate embrace. The ground beneath him was blanketed in pristine white webs, creating an otherworldly carpet of soft silk. He cast a disdainful look at the sticky strands clinging to his new, finely-crafted boots but thought better of attempting to clear them. It seemed like an uphill battle he was destined to lose.
He walked for what felt like hours, winding through the labyrinthine tunnels of the queen's domain. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, losing all sense of time, until finally, he encountered a dead end. The temptation to draw one of his daggers, each one enchanted with the silent fires of Seraph, flirted with his thoughts but was swiftly dismissed. Prying the blade from its sheath could earn the wrath of the queen, a risk he wasn't willing to take.
Gritting his teeth, he began the arduous task of peeling the sticky strands from the wall with his bare hands. Each tug felt like he was fighting with a living, sentient entity, determined to entwine and smother him. The very notion that he, a God, had to stoop to such a demeaning task was maddening enough, but what infuriated him even more was that he had to do it like a powerless mortal.
Silent anger simmered beneath the surface as he worked. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he unearthed the coveted black crystal concealed behind the intricate tapestry of webs. Its dark, enigmatic beauty contrasted starkly with the fragile, ethereal nature of its prison.
Taking a steadying breath, Pip channeled his mana into the crystal, and the cave transformed instantaneously into a rectangular chamber. The obsidian walls, adorned with delicate veins of white sunstone, created an eerie yet captivating sight. The only exception was a small hearth, nestled at the center of the chamber, where flames crackled merrily, casting an incongruous warmth amidst the prevailing gloom.
Without delay, he exited the antechamber and followed the sole exit, leading him into a vast corridor. As he walked, the distant sound of muffled moans and whimpers reached his ears, but he paid them no heed. Halfway down the corridor, the surroundings shifted abruptly into sheer, sickly-colored rock, casting an unsettling pallor over the passageway.
For most, venturing into the queen's domain was all but suicide, not solely because of her, but due to the grotesque creatures she nurtured. Her unwavering indulgence of these creatures, even to the extent of using her fellow gods as potential prey, made these visits perilous.
The skittering and faint hissing sounds surrounding him didn't visibly faze him, or at least, that's what he hoped the queen believed. Internally, he teetered on the brink of unleashing his full power, consequences be damned.
His only solace was the hope that he'd react swiftly enough if an attack were to occur, for the queen's pets were infamous God killers. Over the ages, more than a few of his fellow godlings had lost their lives, either for angering the queen or merely for being too close to one of her ravenous offspring when hunger struck.
As he walked, he spotted her in the distance, concealed behind her endless wall of webs. Her hands moved with the precision of a maestro guiding notes along a desirable path. In his peripheral vision, he noticed towering columns lining the cavernous room on either side. A small army of spiders, varying in size, color, and shape, swarmed the room, their pincers clacking hungrily as they waited for the slightest misstep on his part, eager to tear him apart.
"Keep dreaming, vermin," he thought, dismissing them from his mind. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he sensed a familiar presence. His steps faltered as he looked up. The ceiling stretched overwhelmingly tall, and with his diminished vision, he could only discern a peculiar moss lining the rocky surface.
What truly captured his attention, however, were the hundreds of bodies suspended from the ceiling like grotesque decorations. Some hung motionless, while others swayed faintly, their struggle for freedom in vain. All were mummified and incapacitated by the tranquilizing venom of the queen's offspring, a gift inherited from the queen herself.
Approaching the vast wall of webs, spanning kilometers, Pip observed the queen working tirelessly. Her hands moved ceaselessly, spinning new strings, cutting old ones, and readjusting others. She toiled relentlessly for hours.
Pip remained motionless, knowing she would address him when she was ready. The queen was physically bound to her web until a rare pause in time occurred. A fleeting moment when she could detach herself from her strings for precious respite. These pauses had no set schedule; weeks, months, or even years could pass until the next opportunity for her to rest.
And Pip waited, occasionally stealing fleeting glances at his favored mortal, though he could do little more. With his powers locked for the duration of his visit, he possessed access to only a minuscule fraction of his once-immense pool of mana.
To ward off his growing sense of boredom, he observed the spider queen, a creature that was part human, part spider. She was a being loved and loathed in equal measure by Gods and mortals alike. Her role was of such paramount importance that she was practically untouchable. None would dare oppose the one who manipulated the very threads of fate.
Her duty was ceaseless, untouched by the passage of time. In her dark domain, the winds of time grew silent, and even Pip felt their influence wane. No one could progress, trapped in a state of eternal stasis. The spider queen moved as fate dictated, reorganizing and replacing as necessary. Always within her shadowy cavern, surrounded by her beloved children, who were her sole companions.
Her eight legs clicked rhythmically on the rocky ground as her human torso stretched to reach a high string on the wall. He heard her emit a grunt, and with eerie grace, courtesy of her spider half, she began to ascend the wall. Her torso, which sprouted from where a spider's face would be, formed an elegant arch as she finally reached the desired string.
She delicately twirled it around her finger and hummed, as if uncertain of what to do next. Then, with a sudden, forceful tug, the string snapped in two, sending vibrations through the nearby tangle. The string disintegrated before Pip could trace the origin of the life force that vanished as though it had never existed.
The spider queen sighed, and for the first time, she locked eyes with him. She might have been called beautiful if not for a few unsettling features. Most disconcerting were her milky white eyes, eternally oozing a yellowish liquid. They were eyes that had seen countless fates over eons, their age taxing and haunting.
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She would have been blind if not for the dozens of small, beady eyes sprouting on her forehead, resembling tiny black holes, each able to detect the slightest change.
"I will be with you shortly," she told him, her airy voice sounding distorted as it emanated from her clicking mandibles.
Pip waited as the woman waded gracefully through the intricate web of strings, a dance both enchanting and repulsive in its arachnid grace. When she finally stood before him, dwarfing him in size, she offered a demure smile, marred only by the twitching of her mandibles.
"Welcome to my home, Pip. It has been a long time, or has it? Time is a fussy concept for me." Pip lowered his head in a sign of respect while tossing her his trademark wink. "Well met, Iola."
She laughed delightedly at his antics, and her swarm of children, dotting their mother, created a crescent moon around her. Upon hearing her laughter, they clacked their pincers in excitement, attempting to draw closer to her.
She admonished them affectionately and began to caress the nearest one, treating it like a beloved child. Pip struggled to suppress a shiver that threatened to emerge at the sight of the sea of hairy legs and beady eyes surrounding him.
"Come now, don't be rude! We have a guest. We shall play later. Now off you go! Go get a snack." Her tone carried the indulgence of a mother, but the spiders, some the size of small mountains, seemed to obey her instantly. The vast room quickly filled with the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones as the spiders began their gruesome feast.
Pip remained motionless, fearing that even the slightest movement would reveal his disgust. He wore the expected playful smile while keeping a wary eye on the pet spider still at the queen's side. It tracked his every move, ready to pounce at any moment. Sizzling saliva droplets fell from its gaping maw, and its pincers twitched as if already savoring the taste of his flesh.
"I see you've captured Tetrimus... Is that wise? The cobalt titans have been searching for him for centuries," Pip inquired cautiously. The spider queen waved her hand dismissively.
"He should have been more mindful of his words. Besides, he provides my children with valuable nutrients that are hard to come by. He's one of their favorite snacks!" She announced gleefully, her gaze fixed on a particular monstrosity lounging nearby, gazing at her with an eerie adoration. It had two conjoined human torsos, resembling a spider's dual segments, with massive, hairy legs sprouting at each side in rhythmic intervals. Its head was human but covered in fur, with two giant black eyes that betrayed disturbingly human emotions.
Pip forced down his revulsion as he continued, "Polos won't be pleased when he finds out his favorite grandson is being kept here against his will." The spider queen seemed unfazed by his warning, cooing at her offspring still nestled in her lap. Finally, she turned her attention back to him and asked,
"What is the purpose of your visit? I thought all was well at the moment?" She inquired, her unblinking eyes fixated on him. As he observed, he counted 27 small, black eyes on her forehead, while her two sightless human eyes oozed the yellowish pus.
"I was sent to gather a report on your objectives. There have been some recent developments that may have impacted our plans," Pip explained. Her mouth tightened in displeasure, and when he counted again, there were now 31 eyes glaring back at him, filled with open hostility.
"Our dear mortal fares well, fear not. His strand grows thicker by the day, becoming entangled with other threads of fate..." She trailed off, gazing into the distance as if deep in thought.
"However, I expected that by now his strand would have interwoven with others, growing much thicker than his own, thus ensuring his strength and securing his fate." Pip felt a momentary doubt, but he quickly pushed it aside.
"That was indeed the plan," he reminded her. She whipped her head around, her tone filled with evident indignation. "I have fulfilled my duties! I have toyed with the strings of fate, but I am not fate herself! I am not my mother. I am merely her servant!"
Suddenly, the room convulsed violently, as if shaken by an earthquake. Initially, Pip assumed it was Iola's doing, but he soon realized his mistake. What he had initially mistaken for columns were, in fact, the massive legs of the spider king, now agitated by his mate's distress.
"You have angered my husband!" Iola accused, but Pip remained calm, despite the impending calamity about to be awakened. He hoped the spider king would soon realize that his mate was unharmed, and he posed no threat.
He felt mental waves as the two creatures communicated with each other. It appeared that the queen was trying to reassure her husband that she was unharmed and safe.
Finally, the tremors subsided. The colossal body, the size of a mountain, grew still, and the immense legs of the spider king settled, embedding themselves deep into the earth, creating sizable craters around them. The ancient creature stood still once more, as motionless as before.
"You should be more careful in my domain, Pip; luck alone won't save you from my king." Pip bowed his head again, neither acknowledging nor refuting her words. The spider king was a being of unimaginable power, and over the millennia of its existence, it had bested Gods and mortals considered invincible, leaving them as little more than fading names in the annals of history.
Yet, Pip refused to back down. In a direct confrontation, he would become little more than a meal for the ancient behemoth. But Pip didn't engage in direct confrontations; he was far too smart for that.
"My apologies if I have offended you; it was never my intention. I was merely stating facts. However, I would like to remind you of the blood oath you took when you joined our cadre. An oath is sacred, even for supreme beings like us." Iola's lips tightened, but ultimately, she begrudgingly nodded in acknowledgment.
"You know better than most that my influence is limited. Fate is dictated by a multitude of factors; I can only guide one's path," Iola explained. Pip counted again, and this time there were 23 eyes fixed on him.
"That is all we ask. How about the other agents?" Pip inquired. Iola swiveled her entire torso, stretching unnaturally, and glanced back at the glistening web of strands, illuminated dimly by the room's lighting.
"The agent you placed at the Eerrie is already established." She turned back to face him, this time with 26 eyes focused on him. "The two strands are now woven together. This is dangerous! To intertwine two strands of such nature could be catastrophic. We are playing with dangerous energies here! If someone finds out..." Pip interrupted her.
"No one will. We have taken precautions. And when it is eventually revealed, it won't be traced back to us," Pip assured her. Iola remained skeptical.
"Are you sure? You know me; I don't particularly care for concepts of good and evil. But I fear that even some within our faction may be displeased by our actions. And to think that it all hinges on the hands of a mortal..." The spider queen's words trailed off, revealing her unease with their choices.
Pip smirked and took out a gold coin, deftly threading it through his fingers. "We are gods. Good and evil are concerns for mortals. Iola, you should gamble more often, and when you do, be certain that I am on your side..." He winked at her before continuing, his voice dripping with confidence. "Because I have all the luck on my side. What about the others?" Pip saw his reflection in the eyes, now numbering 33.
"The hawk has already chosen its path. The daughter has taken flight, and the dreamer's fate has been altered, although you'll require El'Lyra's assistance to establish a connection. As for the rest, it's still too early to act decisively unless the harbinger establishes himself." Pip nodded in satisfaction, knowing that everything was proceeding according to their plan.
"What about the builder?" Pip inquired, recognizing the pivotal role this agent would play in the days ahead.
The spider queen shook her head sadly. "His fate is sealed; there is nothing I can do." Pip froze upon hearing the news. He had to inform Her. How was it possible that she wasn't informed of his death? They needed him. The harbinger needed him.
"When did he die?" He asked, showing emotion for the first time. Iola's brows rose in surprise at the rare display of emotion and the gravity in his voice, something that was as rare for the trickster as the genesis of the winter bloom.
"He is not dead... yet. He became a thrall of S'Earon. His strand twisted and knotted. I couldn't prevent it. You know what happens when Gods intervene." Pip pushed the bridge of his nose and muttered, "She will not be happy. We have to make adjustments." Iola seemed affected by his words and turned docile, an unusual demeanor for the spider queen. It was akin to a man-eating beast transforming into a well-trained puppy, wagging its tail for attention.
"I will be more than happy to make the necessary changes," she declared, almost too eagerly, as if seeking redemption in Her eyes.
Pip nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Iola. Someone will come to inform you about the next necessary steps." She bowed her head. "I will be waiting. Time grows short, and I have to get back to work." As she spoke, Pip noticed one after another of her eyes disappearing, leaving her with only the two sightless, human eyes.
"Soon, Iola, soon," he said aloud. As she walked back to her endless wall of strings, she whispered, "For my children, so that they could finally be free."
Pip didn't reply, allowing her to return to her web. He concealed a grimace of disdain, pondering the imprisoned abominations skittering around the room, soon to be unleashed upon the mortal world. But whatever drove the spider queen to heed their commands would be fulfilled, even if that meant unleashing a calamity.
Besides, as he told her earlier, good and evil was for mortals.
He entered the marbled room and stepped into the hearth, steeling himself to confront Her and deliver the bad news. He wondered which kingdom would be erased from existence just too sedate her wrath.