The dungeon was not meant for living souls. Its air was thick with mildew, its walls lined with centuries of grime, and its silence pressed down like a shroud. Elowen sat slumped against the cold stone, legs folded beneath her, exhaustion hanging heavy in every muscle. The only light came from a single sputtering torch wedged into the wall, throwing flickering shadows across the chamber. The people gathered there with her were little more than ghosts of themselves: thin, hollow-eyed, shivering as if the cold stone had seeped into their very bones. Somewhere nearby, a child whimpered softly against his mother's chest, and the sound carried far too clearly in the stillness. Elowen gripped the strange book close to her chest, her thumb brushing over the single line written inside it, as if touching the words might unlock their meaning: Find nine keys to save your father.
For a fleeting moment, her eyes closed. Her body craved rest, yet her spirit remained taut, unwilling to trust the stillness. That was when she heard the first sound that didn't belong to them.
Click. Click. Click.
"Do you hear that?" Valeria whispered, terror widening her eyes.
It was faint at first, a rhythm that echoed from the ceiling above. The survivors stiffened, their heads snapping upward, wide eyes searching the darkness where torchlight dared not reach. The clicking grew louder, sharper, like claws tapping against stone.
With a groan, the mage pushed herself upright, her limbs trembling, magic flickering faintly around her fingers like dying embers. Her face drained of color. "Not here," she whispered, voice trembling. "Not her...please, not her…"
The scraping sound joined the clicks again, this time slower, longer, like claws dragging across stone. It made Elowen's skin crawl. Her heart pounded wildly as she sat up, eyes searching the blackness above. The noise grew louder—legs scuttling, scratching—a twisted dance of movement weaving across the ceiling like something unnatural was hunting just out of sight.
Then, it came.
She descended in silence, lowered by a thick rope of silk, pale as bone and strong as a limb. For a moment, she almost looked human, a tall, thin woman with tangled black hair falling over her bony shoulders. Her skin was gray and cold-looking, her chest rising too slowly, too calmly, as if death had forgotten to take her. But then came the rest of her.
Where her waist should have ended, her body warped into something monstrous. A swollen spider's body, dark and wet-looking, shimmered in the torchlight. Eight jagged legs unfolded beneath her, clicking on the stone floor with sharp, snapping sounds. Each step looked painful, broken, yet steady, hungry. The air hissed around her, filled with a sound that wasn't quite speech, but carried the promise of pain and poison.
Venom dripped from long, curved fangs. Her eyes...eight of them...glowed like glass beads, cold and wide, watching every twitch of the terrified group below. A scream tore from the rogue's throat. He gripped his sword with both hands, like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Elowen moved forward, though fear sat like a stone in her throat. "Stay behind me!" she shouted, her voice shaking. The dagger in her hand felt small and useless.
The creature struck. One spindly leg lashed out, fast and sharp like a spear. The floor shattered where a man had stood just a moment before. He screamed, stumbling back into another's arms, barely escaping with his life.
Elowen darted sideways, slashing at the leg with her blade. Sparks flew where steel met chitin, leaving little more than a shallow scratch. The monster's hiss turned into a piercing screech, reverberating through the chamber until the torch itself seemed to shiver.
"Run, if you don't want to die here!" the mage shouted, panic rising in his voice.
Elowen's teeth clenched. "But where? She's already sealed the dungeon!"
Another leg lashed out. This time it snagged the sorcerer's arm, dragging her away. She screamed as she tried to hold, but silk shot out, wrapping her wrist in sticky cords. Elowen lunged, slashing wildly at the threads until they split apart, freeing the sorcerer before she could be pulled into the monster's maw.
The Spider-Witch hissed again, this time retreating with a sickening speed. She scuttled up the wall, circling the chamber with the smooth, horrifying grace of a predator toying with prey. Her claws dragged sparks along the stone, the sound making the survivors cover their ears.
The rogue gasped, pointing upward. "She's playing with us! She won't stop until..."
His words ended in a cry as the creature dropped directly onto him. One of her legs drove straight through his chest, pinning him to the ground. His eyes widened in shock before his body went limp. The survivors wailed, some desperately clawing at him, trying to pull him free, until the monster lunged, her fangs closing around him with terrifying speed. She yanked him upward and slammed him down with brutal force, devouring him amid wet, cracking sounds that turned the air into a waking nightmare.
Elowen's stomach churned, but rage burned brighter than fear. She ran forward with a scream, her dagger flashing in the dim light. She plunged it into one of the joints between the legs, the blade sinking deep. Black ichor spurted out, splattering across her arm, its stench choking her.
The monster shrieked and thrashed, hurling her backward with a swipe of another leg. Elowen's body slammed against the wall, pain exploding through her ribs. Vane cried out her name, but she barely heard them through the ringing in her ears.
Her wrist snapped suddenly as silk coiled around it. The creature yanked, dragging her across the floor toward its gaping maw. Her dagger slipped from her hand, clattering out of reach. She clawed at the stone, nails tearing, heart hammering in her throat.
"No! Elowen!" Valeria screamed.
Elowen thrashed helplessly, the venomous fangs lowering toward her face. Her own scream tore out, raw and desperate, until a pulse of heat flared against her chest. The book strapped against her throbbed with light, faint but undeniable. The silk slackened for an instant, and her fingers brushed against the fallen dagger.
She seized it and rolled with a burst of strength, plunging the blade upward into the soft underbelly. The blade sank deep. Black ichor sprayed across her, burning against her skin like acid. The Spider-Witch shrieked so loudly that dust rained down from the ceiling.
Elowen drove the dagger in again and again, each strike fueled by terror and fury. Finally, with one last cry, she rammed it into the creature's chest. The blade flared with a sudden light, brighter than before, as if the book's power coursed through her arm. The Spider-Witch convulsed, her legs flailing wildly, smashing stone, tearing the dungeon apart. Survivors ducked for cover, shrieking as shards of rock rained down. The creature's screech grew weaker, rattling, until her abdomen split open and her entire form dissolved into ash and webbing, collapsing into nothing on the ground.
Elowen stumbled to her feet, drenched in sweat and black ichor. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths. She turned to speak to the others, to tell them they were safe, but her body betrayed her. Pain crashed over her, and her knees gave out. The dagger slipped from her hand as she collapsed.
The survivors rushed forward, shouting her name, but their voices sounded distant, muffled. Her vision dimmed as if night itself were closing over her.
Through the haze, she saw movement.
A figure stood at the far end of the chamber, just beyond the reach of the torchlight. Tall, unmoving, his presence filled the room like a storm contained in flesh. She couldn't see his face, only the silhouette, but she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her like chains. He didn't step forward. He didn't speak. He simply stood in the corner, watching as darkness claimed her.
Her lips trembled as she tried to whisper a question, "Who are you?"....but the words never came and her world went black.