Japheth woke just as dawn began to peek over the trees, the sun the same sullen orange as the coals of his fire. He wondered whether he should mourn.

The boy had been long in returning, as had his guide, and even the short journey from the village to the far shore of the lake was fickle as any woodland trail. If the boy was dead, or the guide even more spiteful than he seemed... best not to dwell on it, he thought as he sat up.

The woodsman rustled through his pack for his mead, suddenly thirsty. If they hadn't returned by now, like as not they were both lost and the others with them. Maggie and the cobbling might survive, but the child... Japheth pulled the cork from the canteen with his teeth and took a long pull. The taste of the mead bit into his tongue and he swallowed, resolving that if Muthrei returned alone Japheth would bury his knife in the smirking elf's throat, consequences be damned.

"Is there anything left in that bottle?"

Japheth looked up to see a shadow break from the trees. His mouth dropped open as Nathan's features slowly took shape, the youth's clothes torn and bloody, his sword cutting a thin trail in the dirt as he struggled to keep his feet.

"Nathan! Where have you−"

"Hold on. Trade you." The sword fell from the boy's grip as Nathan made a clumsy swipe at the canteen, shoving something into the woodsman's hands once he'd stolen his prize. He took a long swig and then gasped. "Damn... that's awful..." Nathan took another long pull, wincing, then toppled forward.

Japheth blinked at the snoring boy face at his feet, then reached for him and felt a tug almost hard enough to pull him off balance. He looked at the long, silvery strands Nathan had placed in his hand, suddenly taut in his grip, and followed them into the shadows.

“By the fae...”

"My dear boy, you don't do things by half measures do you?"

Nathan's eyes fluttered open, his face inches from the twig-spun walls of an elven tree house. He rolled over, feeling the floor shake as he slowly focused on James' smiling face. "...When'd you get here?"

"I was in the area," The aspect said. "Actually I'm in every area, but that's neither here nor there. Except when it is." He chuckled, brushing an imaginary fleck of dust from his sleeve. "Speaking of which, what have you done with my niece? I looked all over this village for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Lost her in the woods, did you? Tsk tsk."

"Wait, can't you−"

"I'm not here to get you out of whatever mess you've made for yourselves," the aspect interrupted. "I have things to do. However, I thought I'd take the time to offer you some advice while she can't listen in."

"Advice?!" Nathan sat up. "Screw advice, she's out there with a bab−"

"If she's out there, she wants to be. There is nothing I can do for her she can't do herself," James replied curtly. "And forgive me, but that little green baby you two have been fawning over is your problem, not mine, though that does bring us where this conversation ought to go." The aspect lowered his voice, his tone conspiratorial. "Tell a concerned uncle true; you love her, don't you?"

Nathan stewed for a moment but nodded. “I think so, yes.”

"Don't."

"What the hell kind of advice is that?" Nathan fumed. "She's an adult and so am I. What we do is none of your business."

"It’s not my business, not at all," James agreed cheerfully. "But think about it for a moment, won't you?"

Nathan folded his arms. "I don't see what there is to think about. We can make our own decisions."

James leaned forward, his cheerful tone utterly at odds with the pitying look in his eyes. "You... I'm not sure what you are. College boy, wizard, fool...whatever, you'll have to figure that out for yourself." The aspect poked him in the chest. "Your life, my dear boy, is in too much a state of flux to be bothering about with love at the moment and you know it. And that's not even the difficult part."

Nathan scowled but knew better than to argue with Death. "What's the difficult part?"

"Young man..." The aspect's smile cracked for a moment and something like sorrow gusted across his face. "Your little ragamuffin told you that souls are hard to shape, yes? Consider what Maggie is. She is a young girl with a young girl's needs, the need to bring life and light to the world. Yet she is also an immortal destined to end the very things she craves. That is her nature: a being whose every waking moment is filled with the pain of that duality. You… you have taken a life, Nathan. Several lives. It is a fearfully easy thing to do, and a fearfully hard thing to bear afterward, yes? Imagine how much worse it is for her: an immortal’s duties settled with mortal conscience." James rested a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Why else, dear boy, do you think we take apprentices?"

Nathan swallowed. It had been easy. His brother, Renal and his thugs, the poor living dead Maggie had left for him to finish... They had all snuffed out like candles. If a demon wasn't waiting to fill his dreams with fire and shadow their deaths would have been haunting his nights. Suddenly he was doubly thankful for the concoction Jabberwisp had been making him. "But I... I don't know, can't I−"

"You can try to love her, Nathan," James said gently. "You can. But in the end it won't matter. Loving her will cause you both nothing but pain."

"Why?" Nathan felt the word whisper from his lips, pleading.

"Haven't I said? She is doomed, dear child. Loving her will only pull you down with her. She loves you, it's obvious, but it's a sad, poisonous kind of love. Spare yourself, and if that is not enough spare her. When it ends you will hate her for what she has done to you, and that will be the greatest pain of all."

Nathan watched him speak, watched the easy smile slip and fall as the dark, well-dressed man shrank in on himself, something both less and more than human, caught in more than mortal anguish. "It happened to you, didn't it?"

"It did," James said, not meeting his eyes. "It did. When it was done, for long years there was nothing but hate between us. Now there is only grief." The aspect took his hand and squeezed gently. "No matter what happens, Nathan, whether you go back to your world, stay in this one, or pass into the next you must not love her. Death is not meant to be loved."

Nathan squeezed back and gave him a mournful smile. "I won't make you a promise I've already broken, James."

"And for that I'm truly sorry, my dear boy." The aspect said, and suddenly Nathan's hand was closed on empty air.

"Damn it," Nathan gasped, eyes suddenly hot.

"Who's in there?" A voice called as the floor shook beneath a limping tread. Nathan wiped his eyes to see Japheth push past the door, sunlight dancing in after him until the hides swung shut. Eyes stinging all the harder in the sudden burst of light, it took him a moment to realize that the woodsman was walking. Knotted cords of living wood filled space once occupied by flesh, flexing together like the muscle and bone they had replaced.

"My god... Japheth, your leg, how..."

"I thought I heard..." The woodsman shrugged. "Must be getting old. Up you get, the elders will want a word now that you’re awake." Japheth squinted at Nathan and leaned forward. "Have you been crying?"

"Your leg!" Nathan barked. "How did you do that?!"

Japheth glanced down, clearly puzzled. Apparently a man with a leg of living wood wasn't a marvel to him. "What? It is only two days old, fresh-cut. A few days more and it will look like just like flesh." He frowned slightly. "Probably creak for a few weeks yet, though."

"I... I don't even..." Nathan sighed. "You know what? I can’t care right now. Can I eat first?"

"They will have food there."

"Great." He pushed out from under his covers, relieved to he was still dressed, and started for the door. The sunlight dazzled him as he scuttled awkwardly down the ladder. He peered about for a moment, wondering where everyone was before he recognized the platform of the elders through the trees and the crowd beneath it.

"Did the elves get them yet?"

"Maggie and your little friends? Not yet, but I had a word with Maia shortly after you left. Scouts have found and are keeping an eye on them, so don’t worry." The woodsman dropped the last few feet and led the way, new leg creaking with every step. "You caused quite a stir when you returned, stumbling out of the woods, half dead and covered in blood, leading... well, you know." Japheth grinned. "How did you do it?"

"Friends in high places," Nathan groused as he trailed after. "No more questions until I've eaten."

Nathan stared at Muthrei's dangling corpse, noticing a noose of silken thread sunk deep in the elf's withered neck. The puckered, gaping punctures in the elf's belly were much harder to miss, blood glittering in the faint light as it seeped from deep, dark holes little wider than a pencil..

"Huh..." Before Nathan could lose his nerve he stepped forward and yanked his sword from the corpse's belt, making the body dance grotesquely for a few seconds. "Jerk."

Nathan looked up, following the nearly invisible string into the thick branches overhead. "Wanna come down now?"

A few seconds passed and Nathan frowned, wishing he still had his guitar, and then whistled the first few notes of Dueling Banjos. The reply came plinking down from the trees and a horror came crawling after them.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The spider was not the spindle-legged, fat-bodied thing with wicked fangs Nathan had been imagining. It was densely built, all heavy chitin under shaggy gray fur. The legs, even longer than he imagined, rippled like the fingers of a pianist as it descended, moving with lazy grace that made elves look clumsy. Eyes ringed its head like beads of polished jet, glittering above heavy mandibles. Nathan could feel those eyes on him even though they had no visible pupils, and he was surprised how calm he felt. Somehow, he knew they were staring with wary curiosity rather than any kind of hunger. He stared back, marveling.

It came to a stop only a few feet above the elf and severed the cord below it with the sweep of a shorter, two-fingered foreleg, toppling Muthrei in an undignified heap. Then it bent in on itself, drew silk from itself with its longer legs, pulled them taunt and...

Nathan watched, staring as the spider plucked the strings with its forelimbs, strains of melody threading the air as it played. After a few seconds it paused and Nathan shivered, fighting an absurd urge to applaud. "That was beautiful. Why did you stop?"

The spider stared back at him and then rippled out the same series of notes. Nathan found himself imagining he could hear emotion in the music, like...

"You're talking, aren't you?" Nathan gestured at his mouth. "Talking. You talk with music. You're trying to tell me something."

It repeated itself again, this time playing a touch slower. The mandibles quivered, baring the folded black daggers of its fangs.

"I don't have my guitar, pal, and even if I did I still wouldn't be able to understand." Nathan raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

The spider dropped to the ground, the tips of its legs now brushing the corpse. Slowly it raised one long leg, resting it on Muthrei's forehead for a moment before reaching out to lay the tip on Nathan's sword.

"Yeah, he stole it. Thanks for... for getting it back, I guess." Nathan glanced down to the elf. "He had it coming. I uh... hope you're not still hungry. Then again, maybe you could help me kill the thing that lives here. Howabout it?"

The spider spread another leg, this time touching the bones scattered across the ground before firmly poking Nathan's forehead.

"Yeah, unicorn. Could you−"

Suddenly both legs were pressing against Nathan's chest; gentle, firm taps that rocked him back on his heels. The thing was very, very strong.

Nathan stepped back out of its reach, shaking his head. "I can't go," He said. "I have to kill the thing that did that." he pointed at the bones but the spider didn't move.

He sighed. "Why am I even talking? Hold on..." Nathan took a step closed and knelt down, tracing lines in the dirt he hoped looked something like a unicorn. When he was finished he pointed at himself. "I..." he pointed at the drawing, "Have to kill..." He jabbed the drawing with his sword. "That."

The spider stared at him for a moment. Or seemed too. It was hard to tell. Then it poked him in the chest again, this time so lightly Nathan barely felt it.

He repeated the series of gestures, more forcefully this time. This time the spider raised a foreleg, the fingers clenching as hooked claws slid from the tips. Fangs suddenly bared, the spider tapped itself and then slammed its fingers into the drawing, dragging twin gouges through the picture.

Nathan smiled, baring his teeth. "Welcome to the team, pal."

"You lie," an old voice yelled as Nathan paused to take a last bite of something he thought was venison. Eyes closed, Nathan savored the taste of hot food and ignored his heckler, glad the elves had allowed Japheth to roast it over his fire while he told the story. The elven idea of food was apparently very binary: either raw meat or dirty roots that tasted like half-fermented potatoes.

He'd been telling the story for a while now, though he'd chosen to leave out certain elements. Muthrei's part, for one, had been edited somewhat.

It seemed the entire village had gathered to hear the story, a few of the elves quietly whispering translations as Nathan spoke. The way he told it, Muthrei had taken off without a word when they'd reached the unicorn's lair and then the spider had simply appeared. Nathan felt the tale would be taken poorly if he started flinging accusations around, and as he opened his eyes to meet Wattle-Hat's furious stare, he knew he'd guessed right.

Wattle-Hat was handling a reitha as though he longed to bury it in Nathan's skull, faint licks of red trickling down the blade as he fingered it, cutting himself without apparently noticing. "You lie,” the old elf repeated. “My son would not have left you alone."

"Perhaps he'd try to poison me first?"

The elf's eyes widened but he didn't move. The Cane and Maia were seated on either side of him, watching closely. Nathan leaned forward and took a fistful of coals from the fire, glad to see he didn't burn himself as he did. Good to see that's still working, at least.

"Muthrei left me," Nathan said, crunching the coals together and savoring the delicious heat of it. "If something has happened to him, that's his own fault. I swear I didn't hurt him, God’s honest truth." He gave Wattle-Hat his sunniest smile. "Maybe I wanted to, but I didn't harm a hair on his head."

"More happened than you are telling, wizard," The Cane replied before Wattle-Hat could speak. "More happened, but you also speak true, and it is not for us to name you a liar."

"He says a beast spoke to him, and you say he speaks truth?" hissed Wattle-Hat.

Maia turned a forbidding glare on her fellow elder. "Many questions hide in the roots and branches of our forest, with answers not ours for the knowing," the old elf said. "The youngling human speaks true, as any with ears should hear." She turned to Nathan and gestured impatiently, taking a bite of bloody meat. "It is a good tale. Tell it, wizard."

It was almost dark when the unicorn appeared. It approached slowly, soundlessly picking its way through the bones, mad eyes wide as it stared at him.

Nathan had to fight to keep still as those eyes drew closer, knowing that if he moved the creature would try to skewer him. His breath came slow and even, feigned sleep so natural that he had fought to stay awake until it had come. Now he was wishing he was asleep: It would be better to be caught in another fight with the demon rather than awake and watching this nightmare approach.

The head was almost more lizard than equine, a gaunt, narrow skull bristling with broken teeth. Heavy muscles bunched at its throat like those of a crocodile, while something of the horse lingered in its snuffling, wide nostrils and the flicking motion of its tufted ears. The lines of its body were also almost those of a horse but not quite. The creature was bent as the revenant had been, a madman's caricature. This was one of the sins of the wizards, Nathan knew: a monster of imagination, not nature. There was nothing natural here.

Muscle rippled under a blood-stained, scarred hide as it moved. The unicorn’s pelt was neither scaled nor furred but a grotesque mix of both. The claw-like cloven hooves clenched as they took its weight, silently carving wounds in the earth as it inched closer.

But it wasn’t any of this that had his attention. The horn had drawn his eye first, a twisted sculpture of razor edges that wound into a vicious point at its tip. The horn had drawn his eyes, but then its own wide, mad gaze had captured his.

They did not glisten like the spider's. They were not dull and lifeless, like a shark's. They were empty, hollow as though there was empty space in the sockets, but Nathan could see the edges of pink flesh puckering around those unblinking orbs. It was hard, very hard, to fight the urge to leap to his feet and drive his sword at them, to turn away, to stop them up any way he could. To do anything to keep from toppling forward into the hideous black holes that were the creature’s eyes.

Some sound came in the distance and the thing moved faster than could be believed, head shifting bonelessly to stare off into the dark, and Nathan shifted his sword.

The tip scrapped against a rock.

With a baleful shriek the monster whirled and plunged forward, clawed hooves raised to crush him even as its wicked horn thrust toward Nathan's face and he screamed, defiance and terror mingling in his voice as he raised his sword too slowly.

The horn stopped a moment before piercing his skull, near-invisible lines drawn across the beast's throat and chest in a mad jigsaw. Blood beaded there for an instant as the spider silk, hair-fine and wickedly sharp, sank in. Slips of bloody flesh fell away as the unicorn danced back with a furious snarl, ripping its horn through the strands and plunging forward again, only to scream as a noose wafted around its throat and locked the monster in place, sinking deep. Nathan leapt forward to drive the sword into the beast’s side but the unicorn shrieked and reared, hooves beating at him as its horn whistled through the air. The horn’s tip caught on something for a moment and the lariat slackened. Nathan raised his sword in a panic but in a thunder of hooves it sped away.

"What the−"

Nathan whirled, the sword's point falling to the earth as he heard the unicorn circling behind him, moving up the hill. Without thinking, he dove toward the narrow overhang above its lair, nearly losing his footing on the countless bones. A moment later the unicorn plunged through the bushes, heedless of the countless thorns biting into its flanks. It leapt from the hilltop, screaming in fury but only just too far and too fast. The hind hooves nearly brushed Nathan's head as it passed overhead. In a moment of pure, crystalline instinct Nathan acted: he rolled forward and drove his sword towards the monster's belly.

With a jarring crash of weight the unicorn fell full on him, howling in pain. Nathan gasped, smothered by the iron-hard flesh of the beast, and twisted the blade, winning another whinnying shriek of pain as the unicorn flailed madly, desperately trying to get away from him. Its efforts tore the blade from his hands in a spray of blood, drenching Nathan.

He screamed, blinded, and heedlessly scrambled away. Something fetched a vicious blow to his shin and he fell, cutting himself on the thousand bones of the unicorn's past meals. He scrambled to his feet, snatching up a heavy bone and howling a challenge.

The unicorn lay at his feet, quivering. It had fallen into the broken corpse of an elven child. One of the ribs had thrust cleanly through the monster's eye. The beast had kicked his legs from under him but those had been death throes, nothing more. Blood pumped weakly where his sword was lodged in its chest, coming more slowly with every second.

Nathan flung the bone at the creature's head and groaned, the adrenaline coursing through his veins doing nothing to dispel the ache of muscles suddenly called to furious work. He groped clumsily for the sword, cursing as it came free with a vile sucking sound.

Reedy wails sounded from the shadows where the unicorn had first emerged and he brought the sword up in a panic, thinking another unicorn might be coming, but the cry only continued. Nathan cautiously picked his way forward, sword probing the air. The wicked strands of webbing had badly mauled the unicorn and he had no intention of walking into another such snare. Twice he had to walk around gossamer nooses dangling from the trees, and he couldn't hazard a guess how many others his ally had placed. And speaking of allies…

The great spider was just ahead. It had pinned something to the ground, black fangs quivering as it nuzzled the throat of the wailing thing.

The spider paused as he approached, then with a dancing shimmer of motion wound a net around its squirming captive before pacing over to Nathan, one fingered leg extended. Nathan frowned as the spider thrust something into his hand before stalking back to its prey. Something tugged in his grip, and he looked down to the long, silvery strands that were suddenly taut in his hand, and followed them into the shadows.

“Wow...”

"It seemed fair," Nathan shrugged. "Splitting the spoils, I mean." he rolled a stick through his hands, trying to set it to smoldering, but still the magic wouldn't come.

"How did you get back to the village?" Wattle-Hat hissed. "You did not find your own way back, foolish human."

"You sound like your son," Nathan said back with a wolfish smile. "Maybe you should go look for him."

Wattle-Hat got to his feet and left without a word. Unless Nathan was very much mistaken, few were sad to see him go.

"The spider guided you back?" the Cane asked, and Nathan nodded. She sighed. "Long have we thought them beasts, mindless and hungry, clever in their songs only as birds are. You give us much to think on, wizard. You bring much change."

"It's a talent," Nathan said modestly. "And I bring more than change."

He hefted the curled, web-knotted shard of iron-like bone he'd hacked from the unicorn's head and handed it to Maia. "I do not know if it's true, but stories say−"

"Stories say much, and few are true." Maia nodded gravely as she admired the horn. "But if they name the Mae 'Rukh's horn a great gift, they name well."

Nathan smiled. "How about that? Is that a great gift?" he asked, pointing at the... what did you call a baby unicorn, a colt? He wondered. It sat in a pen of woven thorns, crying occasionally and baring vicious teeth. It was the size of a large dog, its horn little more than a raised bump on its ugly head. Walking it back hadn't been that hard once Nathan had learned not to pull it close enough to nip at him.

"Great, wizard. Great." Maia bowed her head, a hint of mirth flashing in her eyes. "You have given both service and gifts. What would you have of us?"

Nathan sighed wearily. "I thought you'd never ask."