Page 48 of Alien God

“Thank you, Rúnwebbe.” I said solemnly, pulling the satchel’s drawstring tight. A question entered my mind. I hesitated, knowing I had not brought enough gifts to satisfy her, but asked it anyway. “Have you had any news of my cousin Skallagrim? Where he is now?”

Her four black eyes narrowed.

“Have you brought more giftsss?”

I cursed myself for not thinking ahead this far. I’d been so preoccupied with my prisoner I’d lost sight of the larger problems at hand and hadn’t brought more items to trade for knowledge of Skalla or anything else. I didn’t want to deplete my energy by opening multiple sky doors to travel back and forth from here and Sionnach if I could help it, and besides, Rúnwebbe grew weary of visitors quickly. She would not take kindly to repeated visits from the same stone sky god in a short period of time.

I considered giving her my sword but wanted to avoid that if I could since it was a treasured gift from my father. An idea came to me, and I hoped it would be enough. Holding the satchel with one hand, I used the claws from my other to slice off some strands of my own hair and offered it to her.

“The hair of a stone sky god for my web?” she hissed, flat nostrils flaring. “Yesss, this will do, Wylfrael.”

“Where is he, then? Do you know?”

“He is with his mate.”

His mate!

“He’s found her! Is he still mate-mad, or is he now cured? Who is she? What world does she hail from?”

“The gift, Wylfrael.” Her tone grew sharp with warning. The webbing vibrated all around me.

“Of course.”

She lifted a hand, and I dropped my severed hair into it. Her three fingers closed over my hair. As soon as the fist was made, her entire body went rigid. Her head flew back and her eyes went wide, endless black orbs in her face.

“What is it?” I asked urgently as the webbing shook with such force I thought the entire cave might collapse down around us. Rúnwebbe’s back arched, her body contorting, her six arms rising out to her sides.

“I see her,” Rúnwebbe gasped.

“Who?” I barked. “Skalla’s mate?”

“Not Ssskallagrim’s,” she groaned. “Yours.”

Mine... My mate?

Her next words tumbled quickly from her mouth, each one running into the last and bouncing off the walls of the cave in an endless, spiralling echo.

“Bound yet unbound. A partner and a pawn.

Trapped under the arching sky of dawn.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “Who is she? Where?”

But Rúnwebbe just kept going, as if she could not hear me and did not see me.

“Fated bride of Wylfrael. Starburning but afraid.

And when she dies, it will be by her husband’s hand and blade.”

Everything stopped – the words, the shaking. The cave was plunged into stillness so catastrophic it felt like an explosion.

Rúnwebbe hunched over, her six arms folding in towards her torso. I stared at her for a long moment, slowly becoming aware of a brutal hammering sound. I wondered what dared disturb the shocked silence that followed Rúnwebbe’s words before realizing it was my own heart.

“Ask me no more questionsss, Wylfrael,” the weaver of whispers finally croaked.

My jaw worked, defiance rising in me.

“No, Rúnwebbe,” I murmured icily. My voice grew louder. “You must tell me more!” I would rip every strand of hair from my head if I had to. I’d give her my sword if she asked it of me now. Anything. Anything.

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