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Content Warning and A/N: PTSD flashbacks involving prior child sexual abuse and trafficking. None of the abuse is explicitly described, simply implied through dialogue and vague descriptions (using words such as "work" and "doing things"). This is based on my own life, both IC and OOC, and is a form of catharsis for me, so please treat it delicately.

(As an OOC note, Esme is my sona, and everything she talks about directly parallels to my own OOC life, so if you see something concerning like this, it is likely something I personally lived through. Writing about these issues through Esme is part of my own recovery and coming to terms with the horrors in my own life. I am okay, so fret not!)

Aurora is a story of recovery, trauma, and illness, both mentally and physically. Things are dark now, but the Aurora may provide the light.

---

Phaedra's Chapel felt as though it was holding its breath.

There were no other people inside, save for myself and Pietro. It was dark until Pietro waved one of his hands, igniting the torches. The low light revealed that the room was round, with black painted walls decorated with stained glass windows depicting various legends of Creation intermingled with intricately-carved mock webs. I wasn't sure what was behind the windows, since we were in a basement, but Pietro seemed to read my mind.

He pulled a parchment out of his robe pocket and wrote, Outside the windows is the Beyond. We are in a liminal space. The staircase serves as a portal.

I nodded slowly. I thought that I would be more unsettled by this than I was, but I found I just wanted to peer out the windows to see what the Beyond looked like. Perhaps the presence of the Mother of Spiders made me feel more at ease.

There was a statue of her in the center of the room: a massive stone depiction of an arachnid-like woman. Her six arms were posed in different ways, holding strands of stone webs between her fingers, as though her fingers were stitching them together. Further down the statue, by Phaedra's spider pawed feet, the webs congealed to something resembling a blanket, or perhaps a tapestry. It curled around her, eventually disappearing into the stone base of the statue.

There were no color details on Phaedra's statue. All of her was stone grey--her curtain of straight hair, her eight eyes, her chelicerae and the curve of her fangs underneath them, the drapey clothing she donned over all of her arms, even the abdomen that peeked out behind the fabric. Yet she didn't need details to be a beautiful woman, at least to me. There was the likelihood that I was biased, finding beauty in my own kind. The average person would probably cower in fear at the sight of a massive spider woman, but all I felt was peace.

In front of the statue was a small black table covered in a gossamer cloth and a row of candles. Pietro approached it, kneeled, and seemed to say something to the statue before placing my offering--the dead beetles--on it. He pulled a ceremonial dagger out of the belt of his robe and sliced the beetles open, then let their hemolymph and innards spread across the table and dribble onto the floor. Then he took my vial of my own hemolymph and sprinkled it upon the corpses, then over the candles. Pietro lit them, and then we waited. He motioned for me to kneel before the statue at the same place he originally did, then moved away.

I kneeled for what felt like an eternity. As the stone floor began to make my knees cramp, I wondered if Phaedra would show up at all. Perhaps I was unworthy. Perhaps I did my offerings incorrectly.

But I couldn't dissolve into my usual mental self-degradation for long, for a voice rang out in my head. It wasn't necessarily like hearing, as that wasn't an ability I had, but it was in a way I could understand, as though someone were writing notes in my head.

"Hello, my child," Phaedra said gently, much like the mother she claimed to be. "I know why you are here."

I had assumed as much. As the Queen of Fate, Phaedra would know all things. But my acknowledgement turned to a boil of emotion, leaving my innards feeling like a kettle full of hot overcooked soup. Much like soup, I couldn't speak, nor did I have enough light to write a note.

"I can understand you in your mind, dear child," Phaedra said, continuing to know all things. "You don't need to find another way to communicate."

"Like this?" I asked within my mind as she requested.

"Indeed."

I wasn't sure what to say next. I paused for a while, fidgeting with the hem of my dress. A thought occurred to me, and I finally asked, "Can you read all my thoughts?"

"Just the ones you project. I am not in your mind. I am simply listening to it. Does that make sense?"

"Not really." It made half-sense, but I didn't want to act as though I understood things more than I actually did.

I felt a warm hum in the hair on my arm, something akin to an embrace--a rarity in my life. It took me a moment to realize it was Phaedra creating those vibrations, communicating via webbing within my mind.

"In any case, my child," she continued, "I know why you are here."

The burning inside my stomach rose to my throat. "Do you, now?"

"Does this anger you?"

I did not reply. "What else do you know?" I asked. I tried to calm the boiling aggression I felt in my heart. If Phaedra knew all things as it seemed, wouldn't that also mean she knew what would happen to me? Wouldn't she have tried to stop it?

"Enough," Phaedra replied simply. "I am not omniscient, contrary to popular belief, but I try to be a watchful mother."

"You control Fate," I corrected her, much as a child would. Then I added, "Wouldn't that mean you know everyone's Fates and their lives?"

"I have no control over Fate," Phaedra responded, gentle as ever. "I simply interpret the Will."

"What is the Will?"

"It's the force of the Void, a being neither good nor evil, with intentions difficult to understand, especially for a mortal--even a Monster. It is beyond personhood, which makes it more of a person than any of us. It is both the cause and effect that lives within every living person, and I interpret both of these in the Language of Silk. This language is what the Seers read when they invoke me."

"The Language of Silk," I repeated. "Webs?"

"Indeed. Every web spun by every spider, Monster or otherwise, tells a story. All one has to do is learn how to read it."

I looked over my shoulder, though I couldn't get a clear view of my abdomen anyway. "I don't spin webs. Just draglines."

"You are not a Weaver," Phaedra said. "Every spider can Spin, but not every spider can Weave. Does that make sense?"

I thought for a moment, wanting to give Phaedra an honest answer. "Every spider can produce silk, but not every spider can utilize its language?"

"Close. Every spider can produce silk, yes, and understand its music--the vibrations that communicate emotions, warnings, the motions of prey. Any spider can learn to interpret the lines of webs themselves, visual or tactile. But not every spider can produce such complex tapestries themselves--true Spinning, or Weaving. In some, it is a born instinct, and those are some of the best Seers Aefarell will ever see. In others, it is a learned procedure, but a non-Weaver learning to Weave is an arduous process, one that requires discipline. But like any skill, anyone can pick it up. It just may be more challenging for them."

"You're saying I could become a Weaver?"

"If you were dedicated enough, yes. But from what I've interpreted thus far, that is not your Fate. But these things change. Perhaps different Threads of decision will lead you down a different path."

"People don't just have one Fate?"

I felt a tingling sensation in my hands akin to feeling someone laugh nearby. "Of course not. If it were that simple, I would not be needed. Fates are unruly, confusing things, as is the Will. Think of Fate not as a river, but as an ocean in a hurricane. But I'm certain you are here to untangle your own Threads and better understand them, yes?"

I nodded. "I don't know where to go. I don't have a family. I don't have friends. I don't even know anyone of my own kind. I have a degree and some money saved up from...business...but I don't know where to look. I don't have anyone to guide me." I clenched my fists. "But I don't know why I bother asking you. It's not like you were there to help me."

A soft vibration responded--a sad sigh. "Your ire is understandable, but I can explain."

"How can you?" Tears brimmed at the rim of my lower eyelid. "You know what happened to me. You let it happen for years. You let my--"

"I did not," Phaedra corrected me, her words firm. Yet she did not feel angry. Phaedra's words felt sad, perhaps, or dejected. "Have you ever witnessed an accident, Esme?"

"What sort of accident?"

"Perhaps you're up in your old college dormitory, watching a carriage accident in the street. Or worse, perhaps a murder. A magical experiment gone awry. The nature of mortals overcoming them and being executed through a blade. Have you witnessed such a thing?"

"Why?" I had a sinking suspicion as to what she was referring to, but I wanted to let her continue first. One could never assume with Demons.

"Do you know the helplessness that occurs when you witness something you cannot stop? You're a small creature. You cannot stop a heavy carriage, an accident, or a murder, especially from your tower, tens of meters in the air. Perhaps you can run down and rescue the carriage accident victim. Maybe you can use your magic to redirect the flames of an accident, but the accident is still there. You could report the murder to authorities, but it would be suicidal to stop the murderer yourself, would it not? Or worse, you could be suspected of the murder yourself. Do you understand what I mean?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if she could see me. "I believe so."

"This is what it is like to be a Demon. We are somewhat trapped within the confines of our realms, watching the world we love through stained glass. We can care for the victims. We can try to aid in extinguishing the flames. We can note who we witnessed taking lives. But other entities are watching, too, and acting. Perhaps someone else initiated the accident. Perhaps the magical mistake was deliberate arson. Maybe the murder was ordered by another Demon, or perhaps a Celestial. Direct actions of any entity, Demonic or Celestial, is forbidden on the plane of Aefarell. We can whisper our influences. We can comfort our children. But we cannot stop carriage wrecks, flames, or murders any more than you can."

"But you can call for them to happen."

"That we can, but only through a mortal vessel, someone bound to Aefarell's mortal plane. We can convince a follower to drive into someone, set things on fire, or draw blood. But we cannot do these things directly ourselves. We are trapped in our towers, watching."

"So there was nothing you could do? Through all of it? You couldn't have found me a better home, or done something about the--"

"I did what I could," Phaedra said gently.

It was then I remembered a few odd things that happened in my short, sad life.

I remembered those days in the orphanage, hiding from the owners in cabinets. I never got a straight answer as to how I arrived in the orphanage. One of the attendants said my parents dropped me off there, but even as a child, I didn't think that made sense. Another attendant corrected her and said my parents had been murdered and I was graciously rescued from the orphanage despite my species. This seemed more plausible, but I never knew who my parents were, let alone who would want them dead.

The orphanage was all I had, and it was hell.

The attendants were far from kind to any of the children, Human or otherwise, but being the only Monster, they were particularly violent with me. I learned to hide, using my spiderlike abilities to climb the walls and sit in alcoves or hide in cabinets. I would stay in them for hours, waiting for them to get tired of looking for me, but that didn't make it any easier. I was always afraid that I would be blamed for something and have to pick my switch as a consequence.

During the times I was very scared, I felt six arms wrap around me as though an arachnid was hugging me. As I got older, I waved it off as a childhood hallucination, craving the maternal love and protection I never received. Now, I knew what it really was.

"In the cabinets," I said. "You held me."

"I tried to provide what little comfort I could," Phaedra affirmed. "My ability to interact with Aefarell is very limited. My presence can be felt, maybe seen, or invoked as it is now, but I cannot interact much directly. You, like all Phaedrani, were sensitive enough to feel me touching you through the division of the spiritual stained glass. I did my best to make you feel less alone, borders be damned. I wasn't sure if it was Woven to be, but I thought I would try."

I nodded and swallowed. "And you succeeded...but after that..."

"After," she replied, "I did what I could."

With a sniffle, I remembered the hardest part of my life--my adoption. The memories overtook me with a vice grip, pulling me away from Phaedra and all of my current surroundings. Instead of myself now, an educated adult, I was a little girl again.

_It was a dream for any of the girls in the orphanage to be adopted. Being the only Monster, the other children kept their distance, often using me as a way to deflect blame for wrongdoings. After all, I hadn't developed any closeness or alliances with anyone, so I was the perfect scapegoat. _

_I was lonely and knew no one of my kind and thought that if I met someone like me, perhaps things would be different. I had hoped, in vain, that there would be Phaedrani parents looking for an arachnid daughter to fill the void in their lives, but there were very few, if any, Phaedrani in Lurenark. _

Little did I know that I would later be wishing I'd stay in the orphanage for the rest of my childhood.

I was adopted when I was seven into a Human family, and they took me to the coast of Lurenark. My new mother owned a large home on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and I would stare out the windows for hours on end, watching the waves and wondering what was beneath and beyond them.

But the idyllic coastal paradise was a front, and I should have known no Human with good intentions would adopt a Phaedrani.

At first, things were normal. I went to a community school with the Humans, where I slowly grasped the ability to talk. I didn't make friends, of course, being what I was, but I liked school, and the teachers were relatively kind to me.

There were little things that were off, and in hindsight, they were alarming, but I was too young to think about it. My new mother was a little too inquisitive about my body, claiming she wanted to understand the differences between Humans and Phaedrani. Innocently, I let her, though it was always uncomfortable. But I was so happy to be living somewhere and having regular food and baths that it didn't matter at the time.

She also put a heavy emphasis on appearance, doing what she could to keep me looking "expensive," as she put it. I was a little girl, so I didn't understand what that meant. She sewed nice dresses, did my hair every day, and at the time, I thought it was simply a mother-daughter relationship. She even took me to town to pick out fabrics and accessories that I liked, and finally feeling like a normal girl, I was excited.

But then it all became clear a few months later.

A few months into my living with them, my mother dressed me up, fixed my hair, and led me to the parlor, where her husband and his friends were waiting on a massive couch that curved around the edges of the room. She had me stand in the center of the room, and the adults talked for a while. I could only catch a few words here and there.

"For those of you with unique cravings..."

"...prettier than I thought..."

"Always wondered what they'd be like..."

"Can it talk?"

"...in school, yes..."

"She can do anything, I promise..."

"The men at the orphanage assured me she performed well..."

"A thousand, perhaps?"

"Not until we've seen a performance, no..."

"A hundred for a trial?"

My mother gave me instructions, and being a good girl, I obeyed, though the things she made me do for these strangers made me sick to my stomach. They passed me around, making me do whatever they considered a "trial" to be until I eventually was sick on the rug.

_My mother smacked me. _

I cried.

And a man stood. "I like it when they cry," he said, handing her a bag of gold. "There's your thousand."

He was the first, and he was far from the last.

_During the week, I could do whatever I wanted, within reason. I went to school with the Human children, and though my hearing became a greater issue the older I got, I did fairly well. School was my escape from the real world. Through pages of history and science, I no longer existed, and I was reminded how much more vast the world was outside of that godsforsaken house. _

_When I came home, there were no rules. I could do virtually whatever I felt like as long as I was in the house by midnight. With unlimited freedom, I chose to read. I went to libraries, devouring every story that I found. I even wrote a few of my own, scribbling them onto secret pages of parchment tucked within my books of homework. _

It was the weekends where rules became strict.

There would be men, about two or three of them each night except the Holy Day, where my mother and father would go to Church and leave me behind. I couldn't worship the Celestials, after all. Celestial Churches were warded against anything of Demonic origin, and Phaedrani were certainly Demonic.

On work days, I would do whatever was asked of me, no matter how strange or how painful. The men would pay my parents, and then they would be on their way. Sometimes, I would see the same man multiple times. The grand majority, though, were sailors. It was sickening, realizing why they had the house they had and where it was. I grew to hate the sea.

At first, it was only me working. Over time, my parents brought in more girls, many of which were of Monstrous origin. Their faces became a blur with time, but the girl who reminded me of a mantis stood out the most, likely because we became casual friends, playing games and sharing meals together. All of the Monsters were taken in by the same orphanage I came from, which made me wonder later on what sort of establishment that truly was. Others--the Human girls--were brought in by their own parents out of some sort of arrangement with mine. A few were street urchins earning a few gold before running off to find somewhere to stay for the night. Sometimes, they stayed in the house and were fed, and my parents were quick to emphasize how gracious they were.

I was cordial with all of them, though the Humans were wary of all the Monsters. Not many Monsters lived in this port town, or even the country of Lurenark in general. The ones who weren't would play games and spend time with me. We would even walk to school together, though they held no interest in my library adventures. That was fine by me. I had grown to become comforted by my solitude.

But not all hope was lost. I lived in libraries on my off days, spending hours upon hours curled up reading. The librarians were always kind to me. One taught me how to spell words with my fingers, though I had less fingers than she did; I only had three, while Humans had five. I made up for this using extra hands. Once I learned the alphabet, I could spell my name, then hers, and then she did something strange.

"H-E-L-P," she signed. Then aloud, she said, "If anyone is ever in here that you don't want to see and you don't feel safe, do that for me, alright?"

_I nodded, though I wasn't sure how she knew I needed help. I supposed it was abnormal for children to spend time alone in libraries. _

I didn't end up needing to until I was about to go to Upper School. My parents never knew this was where I spent my time, as they didn't care what I did.

Until one day, they had to.

It was the end of the school week, and I had to do a project for Alchemy. I needed to get some books for it, so I figured I could sneak into the library before "work" to pick them up, maybe even start on it. After all, the library was closed on the Holy Day, and I wouldn't have access to them until after the project was due.

I was checking out my books when I saw my mother storm in. She reached for me--either to slap or grab me; I wasn't sure which--but she saw the look on the librarian's face and retracted her hand.

"Sorry," my mother said. "She's not supposed to be out so late."

"She's doing her homework," the librarian said stiffly. "She's a good little student."

"She's needed at home. Come on, Essie." My mother yanked my arm, digging her nails into my fur and skin.

I winced and looked over at the librarian, and I knew it was time.

I signed the word. Then again as I was pulled out of the building. The librarian didn't do anything but nod, and my heart sank as I left.

I was beaten for not being home on time, naturally, and was forced to do clean-up after work--my least favorite task. I cried myself to sleep, feeling betrayed.

In the middle of the night, I felt something knocking on my window. I couldn't hear, so I used webbing around my room to help me out, and my webs nearly covered the window out of paranoia. I got up to look, thinking it was a lost bird in need of assistance, only to see the librarian standing beneath my bedroom window, waving for me to come down.

_I thought for two breaths before throwing my most precious belongings in a bag and climbing down. She hid me beneath her cloak, and we boarded a boat to another city in Lurenark, far from my parents. _

"Esme?"

I was brought to the present then, and I found tears trickling down my face. Their heat and my shaking hands grounded me, and I blinked a few times, adjusting to the reality of the situation. "I'm sorry," I said to Phaedra. "It's all a bit much."

"I know," she replied. "And I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have brought it up."

I wiped my eyes. "You didn't. My mind just went there."

"With time, it will happen less."

We were quiet for a while. I wondered if Phaedra was about to leave, but she asked, "Are you alright, little spider?"

I didn't answer, for I had become distracted by a thought that had occurred to me. "Were you the librarian?" I asked.

"Close," Phaedra corrected. "The librarian was a priestess of mine instructed to work at that location to keep an eye on you."

"You have Human priestesses?"

"Of course. The Phaedrani are the most numerous, naturally, but I have priestesses everywhere if one knows where to look. Do you remember where she took you after?"

I thought for a moment. I didn't remember my adolescence well, and I wasn't sure why. "Not really."

"She took you to a small, secret Temple of Phaedra for about a year to hide you. We were going to arrange for you to move to be with our people, but you elected to finish your education among Humans."

This I did remember. "The boarding school."

"Indeed. Which is what led you to your College, and to here now. I couldn't do more, and I'm sorry. All I can do is influence the physical world, but I cannot interact with it directly. But my influence saved your life."

"Saved my life?"

"Many of those girls died, Esme. Eventually, the amount of missing girls made the city government look into the house, and your adoptive parents were eventually imprisoned. But I couldn't guarantee you would live that long. It took years." She sighed. "I never wanted you to suffer, Esme, though it was what was Woven."

"So you're saying you made it hap--"

"Absolutely not," Phaedra interrupted. "I interpret the Will, like I said. I am not the Will. I would have never wished for something like this to happen to you, my little spider." She paused for a moment, perhaps mulling over all the potential consequences for what she would say next. "Allow me to make this up to you to the best of my ability."

"The only way you could fix things," I replied, "is by making it so it never happened."

"No one can change the past, and those who have tried have suffered a fate worse than death, so to speak. The only thing worse than suffering is to attempt to go back and change it. Often, people find the effects are worse than what they endured."

"How could things possibly be worse?"

I felt two thumbs catch my tears and rub my cheeks, though I didn't see Phaedra do so. "Don't ask that question, Esme. That will only tempt the Will to test you. But know that we both did the best with the Threads we were given of your life, and now, we will use them to make beautiful art through a wonderful future."

I swallowed. "And how would we do that?"

"I have two things for you: a task and a gift."

"A task?" I figured the average person would be the most interested in the "gift" part of her statement, but to me, gifts were temporary, frivolous things. What I needed was a purpose, a distraction from this pain, something to dedicate myself to in order to make the past disappear. I no longer wanted to wander aimlessly through life alone. I needed something to dedicate myself to, at least for the time being.

"Yes. Long ago, a special little spider much like yourself helped me archive the wonders of the world, both magical and physical, in a place we called the Arcane Athenaeum. The Athenaeum has been lost to time now, though, as it was abandoned."

I knew where she was going with this, even though I had never heard of such a place before. "Why was it abandoned?" I asked, thinking it would be sensible to know if she was going to ask me to be involved with it.

Phaedra paused. "That is a story for another time. Due to decay and reclamation by nature, I am unable to sense it anymore. I am not of Aefarell, you must remember. I am only connected to locations on Aefarell with my shrines. As I no longer have an active shrine in the Athenaeum, I can no longer access it. I remember where it was located, though. I have been waiting a very long time for one of my children to be qualified to seek it out and bring it to its former glory."

"Qualified?"

"When the Athenaeum eventually fell, I had a specific sort of person in mind I'd look out for to restore it. One of my kind, of course--the Phaedrani I created, as the original archives within the Athenaeum mostly pertain to Phaedrani and Demonology. I could ask anyone else, of course, but I thought a Phaedrani might find the most benefit in learning about their own history. A curious mind was also a requirement. I couldn't ask a Phaedrani who had no interest in literature or the secrets of Aefarell and its spirit parallel to restore something of this caliber. It had to be a labor of love, you understand. A passion project. I also wanted someone who had formal training in archiving, organizing, and cataloguing. A librarian. Finally, due to where the Athenaeum is, I needed someone with no ties to one specific area--no family they would be worried about abandoning, no projects or jobs located in one place. You fit everything I am looking for perfectly."

I felt my face grow a little hot. "Perfectly?"

"I think you will do me and the world a great service. Of course, whether or not you accept is entirely up to you. I offer you a loom to weave the tapestry of your life, but only you can choose whether or not to use it and how to weave it."

"I have nothing to lose," I said. I didn't even hesitate. My heart was pounding. Finally, I had a direction. "Where am I going?"

"Before I tell you," Phaedra said, her words feeling as warm as morning sunshine, "I must give you a gift. You will need it for the journey ahead."

I straightened, and the world around me lurched as I dizzyingly realized the gravity of receiving a gift from a Demon Queen. "What is it?" I asked.

"Hold out your hands for me, please."

Cautiously, I held all six of my hands outward, as though something would be placed into my palms. I was not given anything, but I felt a tugging sensation in my fur--gentle at first, then painfully insistent, as though the fuzz on my hands was being pulled out. Something was, but it wasn't fluff; I saw a slow stream of black smoke emitting from my palms.

"What is happening?" I asked Phaedra.

She did not reply, but the smoke stopped.

"Phaedra?"

I was still met with silence. A tear about the size of my palm opened at the base of the statue. I stared at it, trying to decipher the blackened void on the other side. I didn't see anything at first until four large golden eyes stared back at me.

"What is it?" I asked.

The creature of the void stepped forward. It was a spider a little smaller than the tear itself with the same markings as me--white fur, black stripes, violet chelicerae, and a black abdomen with white markings. She even had the same heart-shaped mark in the center of her abdomen and my amber eyes.

She looked just like me.

"A familiar," Phaedra said. "For you. Forged from your own soul. She is a part of you, yet created to keep you safe. She can read your feelings, your emotions, and your settings around you in order to protect you. She is a spiderling now, but she will grow with time."

I didn't know what to say. My thoughts were a tangled mess of thready words, as incomprehensible as cobwebs. Out of instinct, I reached a hand out to the creature.

An ordinary spider would recoil from a hand regardless of the creature's species. Spiders were even skittish around unfamiliar Phaedrani; as spiders were usually isolationary creatures and, at times, cannibalistic, they had no reason to trust giant spider-people. But this one approached my hand, tilting her cephalothorax to inspect it.

Then she put a tiny leg on my palm.

"You should be able to communicate telepathically," Phaedra continued.

I tried my best to project my thoughts to the spider. Hello, little one.

The spider put another leg on my hand, cautiously attempting to be held. Mama?

My eyes watered, yet I wasn't sad. I was overcome with a vaguely familiar feeling of wanting to care for this creature, similar to how I felt about the various Human foster sisters I had throughout my childhood. My years of reading indicated this was some form of maternal instinct.

"How is the spiderling going to protect me?" I asked Phaedra.

"Just wait," she said. "You'll see. She will be invaluable to your quest, I assure you. Familiars always are. Now, are you familiar with the country of Vaagriklund? It borders Grauteterria to the north."

"I know of it," I replied.

"It's Orc country," she continued, likely hoping to fill in the gaps of my knowledge without me requesting them. "Very few Humans live that far north, as it is a brutal subarctic, mountainous place. The ground lacks fertility for agriculture, and the sky is often darkened for months at a time. It's a generally unpleasant place, but the Orcs have made the best of it. Since Vaagriklund is so sparsely occupied, it was the perfect place to hide secrets, as only the worthy would seek out something like the Athenaeum. Further, it was far enough north to have a good view of the Aurora."

"The Aurora?" I knew of the Aurora, too, though I had never seen it. The Aurora's power did not reach Lurenark.

"Yes. To the layman, they're spectacular lights in the sky, but to the mage--"

"A well of magical energy," I finished for her.

"Essentially," she agreed. "Demons refer to it as the well of magical energy, the power source for all magic in Aefarell. Technically, it is more like a window to the Well instead of the Well itself, but plenty of power can be absorbed from harnessing it. The magic in the air and the secrecy of the mountains served to protect what we hid there."

I mulled this over for a moment as the spider fully climbed onto my palm. Her oversized eyes inspected my face, her cephalothorax shifting around to get a better look at me from certain angles. "What secrets were you keeping?"

"I'm sure you will find out when you get there," Phaedra answered vaguely. "I'm sure you'll need a few days to get your affairs in order to make the journey."

I nodded. "Where in Vaagriklund will I be going?"

"The capitol, Varaz'khor, though it isn't in the city proper, of course. The city will likely have the resources you need to start looking."

"Resources?"

"Furs, for starters. Spiders aren't made for the cold. The Orcs of Varaz'khor may also have information. I'm certain they may know things about the Athenaeum even if it hasn't been cared for in over a thousand years."

I blanched. "A thousand?"

"A rough estimate, give or take a century or two. It'll likely be buried in the snow and overgrown by whatever even can grow there. But I have faith in you as you have faith in me."

"Where should I start?"

"I believe that is up to you, little spider. The loom is yours. Weave well."

I had countless more questions, but the candles reignited, and I felt the connection sever. I slumped forward, suddenly exhausted. My head felt as though it was full of balled-up spidersilk.

Are you okay, Mama? The spider asked from my hand.

It took me a moment to comprehend her despite her words interrupting my thoughts. I looked down at the familiar wearily. I'm just tired.

You should rest. It's good for you, especially if you're gonna travel.

I will, thank you. I frowned. You're awfully articulate for a spiderling.

I am a part of you. I know things you know and will grow as you do.

But I'm an adult.

That doesn't mean you can't grow.

I laughed internally. I suppose you are right.

The spider began to pace in my hand, seeming uncertain. I don't know who I am outside of you. She looked up at me, cephalothorax tilted curiously. Do I have a name?

I went with the first name that came to mind. Evangeline. But I shall call you Eva.

Eva, the spider repeated. I am Eva.

Yes you are, I replied, and you are magnificent.

Eva was saying more to me, but my head suddenly felt heavy. For a moment, I thought I would vomit, but the nausea ebbed and was replaced with a confused dizziness. I felt the vibrations of Pietro approaching the statue of Phaedra, but I couldn't make out what he was doing behind my blurred vision. I felt myself falling forward, and the last things I saw were Pietro reaching out to me and the spiderling collapsing onto her back.