Page 43 of Oath of War
‘If it works, I swear I’ll never kill any of its smaller cousins ever again. Let’s go now, one last effort.’
We stumbled forward, each step cautious on the taut webbing. We were trying to be careful, but Ari and I were spent. The spider’s fangs clicked, the vibrations of our movements no doubt registering on its sensitive strands. But it didn’t attack.
Whether it was my speech or something else, I didn’t know. I kept talking, babbling on about my life, how grateful I was it let us pass, and how magnificent it appeared. It didn’t react, simply tracked us, more interested in observing us than sinking its fangs into our bodies.
Finally, we reached the webbed bridge that led to the doorway. ‘Good boy ... or girl,’ I murmured, balancing on the final strand. ‘Give me a moment, and I’ll be out of your web.’ As if it only then noticed we were going to leave, the spider hissed, but we were already beyond its reach.
With one last step, the light engulfed us, blinding and overwhelming.
We were safe. Or as safe as one could be in the Dark Mother’s Temple.
Ithought we were safe, but as tears of relief streamed from my eyes, I was knocked to the floor.
My eyes finally adjusted, and I realised Ari had bowled me over and was covering me with his body. Still struggling to see beyond his concerned face, I gave him my trust, letting him protect me from whatever threat his heightened senses had detected.
The air had turned colder, thick with the scent of night-blooming flowers and an exotic incense I couldn’t place. A soft rustle echoed in the stillness, like silk brushing restlessly against itself. Magic hummed in the air, the aether prickling my skin, raising goosebumps like the moment before lightning strikes.
‘Ari? Can you see?’ I asked, placing my hand on his back, startled when I felt it tremble.
‘Not much, but there is a power in this room. Don’t move, Domina. Let me gauge the threat.’
‘You can barely stand,’ I protested, but my words died in mythroat as the strange rustling sound intensified.
Then, a voice, soft and melodic, resonated from all directions, carried on waves of palpable power. It stole my breath, each word like a strike against my chest.
‘You succeeded, child,’ the voice said. ‘I was curious about how you’d react to the Grotto of Dreamers. Many perish there, but I would have been disappointed had you done so. I didn’t want to miss out on sampling your memories. Thankfully, you were perceptive enough to survive, and you didn’t attack my guardian—that makes you a rarity among your peers.’
Alaric dropped to his knees, bowing as the voice faded into silence. ‘I, Alaric’va Shen’ra, and Annika Diavellar greet your magnificence, Dark Mother, Goddess of Fate and all dark fae.’
The reverence in his voice sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to stand tall, swallowing my fear.
‘And you, Annika Diavellar?’ she purred, curious. ‘Do you greet me with reverence and awe? What can I do for the woman who, instead of brandishing a blade, talked to the monster?’
‘You are power beyond time, Dark Mother,’ I replied, my voice steady. ‘I acknowledge this, but I do not come before you in fear. I passed your trial. Please honour it and grant your mercy to my mate. I beg you—purge the poison from Alaric’s body.’
The voice chuckled, rich and unsettling. ‘Oh, child, you believe the trial is over?’ Shadows coalesced in front of me, and she emerged.
I gasped. The Dark Mother towered above me, terrifying and beautiful. Her youthful face radiated a cold, alien perfection, and her eight eyes held all of time in their faceted depths. Long, dark hair cascaded down over her body, but I could still see her slender shoulders; feminine, petite breasts; and delicate glowing skin. Below the waist, however, she had the abdomen of a spider, six spindly legs that carried her, and two smaller appendages that endlessly weaved thread.
The sheer weight of her presence pressed on my chest. Aether poured from her in a swirling vortex, pulling at the magic within me as though trying to forge a connection. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. The sharp pain grounded me, restoring my focus.
‘Only you can extract the icta poison from his body,’ I said, stepping closer. ‘If it’s not over, then please, tell me what more I must do.’
The Dark Mother tilted her head, a motion uncannily reminiscent of the spider we’d encountered outside. Her lips curled into a smile that revealed needle-sharp teeth.
‘You are brave, proud mage. That pleases me.’ Her voice softened, almost a croon. ‘You intrigue me. For his kind, the dark fae, I am the Dark Mother. Others have known me as Przadka, Uttu, Neith ... but you may call me Arachne. Speak my name, and I will listen. Icta, you see, is derived from my venom. It can bend time, a gift reserved for the royal fae line—though their priestesses haven’t come here for centuries. So, what did your man do to earn their ire?’
Her clawed fingers reached for my hand, but I instinctively flinched. She frowned. ‘Are you afraid of my touch, child? Then tell me, what are you willing to sacrifice for him?’
‘Anything,’ I said without hesitation, then added, ‘except my Anchors.’ I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and reached for her hand, wanting to erase the mistake I’d made. ‘Please. Help him. He doesn’t have much time left.’
Her eyes narrowed, their glimmer hypnotic. Then her smile widened, her voice laced with cruel amusement. ‘Anything but your Anchors? Very well.’ She paused, turning away from me. ‘Come, child. Your man is safe here. I command the passage of time within these walls. He will not die until I permit it ... Let us see if your love is strong enough to save him.’
As she led me deeper into the temple, the blinding brightness that had initially overwhelmed me began to take shape. It radiated from countless tiny lights swaying gently on delicate threads near the ceiling.
Long-forgotten knowledge stirred at the edges of my mind . . . a goddess weaving threads, a web, the Weaver of Fate bound forever to the mortal realm, guarding the lives of all creation. A shuddering breath escaped me as I looked up at the ceiling—so full, so alive with blinking lights, pulsing with energy.
Could it be . . .?
