The eastern horizon glowed like a red-hot blade, and the air, full of moisture, carried the delicate scent of marsh herbs. After wandering for weeks, I felt tired not only physically but also spiritually. The battle with the queen had left its marks—both on my body and deep in my thoughts. Every step reminded me of that day, of the look in her dead, cold eyes that filled me with anger and fear at the same time.
As I walked through the hard, scorched earth, with every step met by the sounds of nature, I realized that I was crossing the threshold of the Szatmar-Bereg swamp. The swamp was a sinister place, full of treacherous paths and shadows that moved as if ready to attack. The earth beneath my feet became soft, and each step echoed with a soft splash. The mist hung low, and the air was heavy with moisture that it clung to my skin.
My gaze swept over the tangled vegetation, searching for any sign that I was not alone here. The swamps held secrets and dangers that could surprise anyone who let their guard down for a moment. I knew that this area teemed with creatures whose existence was often the result of radiation aberrations.
I was about to cross the marsh boundary when I heard a cry. “Swen! Over here!”
I turned quickly. On a small hill, standing above the murky water and the twisting vegetation, stood Bahar. Her faithful camel was with her, laden with a variety of packages that barely fit on its back. Bahar waved at me, her bright smile piercing the dark swamp landscape like a lantern in the darkness.
“Bahaaaar!” I cried, relieved to see a familiar face. As I wandered through the thicket of trees and ruins, I had missed having people I could trust, and Bahar was one of the few I did. She was a keen storyteller—her route mostly took her along the trade route between the Schinias bunker and the Peeter Suure tunnels. Meeting her was always an opportunity to share news from the surrounding settlements.
I stepped closer, and her camel moved impatiently, as if expecting us to move on at any moment.
„Long time no see. Still on the road?” I asked, approaching her.
Bahar laughed, her voice melodiously echoing through this hostile land. “Of course I do, Swen! And you? You look a little worse than usual.”
I chuckled, though I could feel the weight of the battle still weighing on me. “I’ve had some intense days lately,” I replied, looking out into the distance at the misty horizon. “I encountered something unusual. A monster that controls the dead. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Bahar’s eyes lit up with curiosity. „Tell me more!” she said, not hiding her fascination. „You always come across the strangest things around here!”
I smiled slightly, remembering those difficult days. „They attacked the Pasewalk bunker. A whole army of living dead!”
“Really?” she asked, climbing to adjust her gear on the camel’s back. “You’ll have to tell me all about it by the fire! Scriveners always get things wrong, don’t they? And now? Are you on the trail of more mysteries?”
“Maybe!” I replied jokingly, squinting at her. “But first I need to replenish my supplies. A swamp is no place to rest and drink water.”
Bahar nodded, and began to tell the story of her journey to the underground city of Matiate. “You know they’re having trouble with the wind turbine? They said they might be without power soon, and that would be a disaster for them. I thought of you when I heard that—if anyone can help them, it’s you, Swen.”
I considered her words for a moment. Working in the underground city? It sounded like something that would take my mind off the memories of the battle. Something that would give me new purpose. “Matiate, you say? That could be interesting.”
“Think about it. It’s only a few weeks south,” she added with a smile, looking around the swamp. “But first, let’s find a safe place to camp. I know this area—we don’t want anything to surprise us here.”
Together we began looking for a place where we could safely build a fire. Bahar walked ahead, her camel following patiently behind, its heavy steps rhythmic and soothing. The swamp was treacherous, but she was right—it was better to prepare for the night and rest by the fire before moving on.
A few days of quiet travel passed. The morning sun painted the old Friendship Bridge in an eerie golden glow, the rusted metal reflecting the pale haze of fading stars. Bahar and I stood on that once imposing structure, now crumbled by war and time. The waters of the Danube flowed beneath us, a reminder of times gone by.
“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked, my hand on the handle of the old knife.
“Nothing has happened here in months,” Bahar replied, “but we should be vigilant.” There was a hint of concern in her voice.
We began a slow march across the bridge, our footsteps echoing off the cracked stones. The bridge, scarred by the past, seemed to be a silent witness to human tragedy. I walked closer to the edge, looking out at the river. The air was dry, but smelled of rotting vegetation and something unsettling. Bahar followed me, and the silence around me was increasingly difficult to bear.
“This bridge connected people,” she said, her voice seeming absent, “and now it’s just a symbol of destruction.”
The tension grew, and as we neared the end, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us. When my gaze wandered behind me, I noticed three shadows growing between the rubble. Their eyes glowed with a savage hatred.
“Swen?” Bahar’s voice surprised me. “Are you okay?”
“Thieves!” I shouted, drawing my knife, ready to fight.
Bahar responded just as quickly, her machete glinting in the sunlight. We charged forward, the metallic sound of blades slicing through the air and brutal blows echoing around us.
“Shit!” I cursed as one of the thieves struck me in the arm, but I refused to let up. Our fight was wild and chaotic, as if the bridge itself was crying out for blood.
Bahar, with incredible grace, threw herself at her opponent. Her movements were like a dance—fast, fluid, but deadly precise. The machete flashed through the air, the steel blade sinking into the thief’s shoulder. A scream filled the air, and the man staggered back, clutching at a bleeding wound.
The fight became a chaotic, swirling madness. Our breaths quickened, our hands slipping on weapons soaked in sweat and blood. I kept dodging blows—one, two, three—before my knife found its mark in the assailant’s stomach. His weapon clattered to the stone floor of the bridge, and he tried to strike again, desperately fighting for each breath. Blood dripped from his body, creating a red stain at his feet.
“Swen!” Bahar’s cry pierced the din of the fight. I turned around—her face was twisted in pain, blood seeping from her left thigh, but even then, her eyes burned with rage, and the machete still whistled through the air. Each blow took more and more effort, but she refused to give up.
I gritted my teeth, lunging at her. We were like one organism, our movements synchronized—I blocked blows, she attacked. The fight became more brutal, as if each successive blow would decide our fate.
With an undisguised, desperate effort, I plunged my knife into the chest of the last attacker. He dropped his blade with a dull thud, his eyes widening in surprise before he slumped to the ground, his life draining away along with the darkening pool of blood.
Bahar was swaying on her feet, her face pale. Before she could fall, I caught her, pulling her to me. I could feel her trembling, but her gaze remained sober.
“We have to keep going!” she said through clenched teeth, her voice shaking with pain. “We can do it, Swen. We always do.”
As I headed towards Matiate, I felt the weight of the battle weighing down my steps. Bahar, due to her wound, had to travel on a camel, but her determination did not waver. With each step, we were surrounded by the remains of destroyed villages, where the silence was ominously interrupted by the rustling of distant trees, and the passing rivers sounded like echoes of past disasters.
Suddenly, after four weeks of grueling but peaceful travel, the first signs of Matiate, a city hidden underground, began to loom in the distance. Its entrance was blocked by a huge wind generator. The rotor stood still, and the metal blades that had once spun proudly against the sky now sat motionless like sleeping sentinels.
“This is it,” I whispered, and Bahar nodded, not hiding her relief. I had to get to the city’s elders and fix the generator that kept the town alive, but with every passing moment I felt a growing sense of something sinister hanging over us. As if the shadows that had followed us all the way were not coincidental.
“Take care of your wound, Bahar,” I said as we stopped at the gate leading into the city. “I’ll try to talk to the elders.”
Bahar, though weakened, nodded. We knew that we were facing a challenge that would not be limited to simply fixing the machine. In this broken world, nothing is that simple.
“We’ve been expecting you, Swen,” one of the elders said in a serious voice as I entered the council chamber. “The wind generator is failing more and more often, and there’s no one here who can fix it.”
I nodded, my mind already racing with the task ahead. “I’ll do my best.”
The elders exchanged significant glances, a mixture of hope and fear in their eyes. “We know you’ll do your best, Swen. We trust your abilities.”
As I headed towards the generator a moment later, the sun began to set, casting a glow over the city gates. I took a deep breath, a new task awaited me. I was ready to face it, ready to write the next chapter of my story.
I climbed upwards, and with each rusting rung I felt the air around me thicken. The earth slowly receded, and I felt as if I was entering a world where I shouldn’t be. I silently cursed those who had decided to install a generator at such a height. I walked carefully, praying that I wouldn’t end up like the hero who tragically fell into the abyss, whose name no one remembers.
When I finally reached the top, the dark interior of the room surrounded me with an eerie silence. I noticed bones scattered on the floor. Someone had been unlucky here.
Cobwebs. Lots of cobwebs. They seemed to be alive, as if created by something very sinister.
„Traces of the presence of Ursus Aranea,” I thought. A creature from the Far East, living in forgotten corners of the world. What is it doing west of the Aral Sea?
The entire drive shaft and brake were covered in sticky web. I pulled out a knife and began cutting through the cobwebs, making my way to the generator. „What a man won’t do for a world that barely functions,” I thought ironically.
Suddenly I heard a sound – the sound of a shadow moving. I froze. A spider emerged from the corner. Great, and that too!
I instinctively raised my knife, ready to fight. The spider lunged at me, its legs whistling through the air. I blocked one of its attacks, but the impact was strong—I almost fell into the remains of the webs. I could feel the beast trying to circle me. Well, it wasn’t the first time I had dealt with such a brute.
I made a few quick slashes at the spider legs, trying to slow it down. One of them happened to hit its abdomen. It hissed in pain, but it didn’t stop. I had to move faster. I dodged. Before it could attack again, I jumped toward the drive shaft, then spun around with full force, slamming my knife into the center of its body. The spider howled, then fell dead.
With my breathing returning to normal, I began to clear the webs from the drive shaft. Inside the room, I noticed something else—three enormous eggs. The spider was definitely not alone here. I decided to take them with me. Who knows, maybe the elders in town would know what to do with them.
This wasn’t just a meeting like the other abominations on the ruined Earth. I felt it was something more.
When I returned to the village, it was already deep night. The darkness was oppressive, only the faint glow of the moon slipping through the narrow streets, guiding me to the seat of the Elders. The air was thick, and the silence of the shadows around me reminded me that in this world, even night brings no peace. The Elders waited in a torchlit building, their silhouettes trembling in the flickering light.
I crossed the threshold. Their faces, carved in the stone of experience and centuries of knowledge, turned toward me. I could feel their gazes on me. I had always thought they knew more than they were willing to say, as if the past still left its mark on them. I sat down, calmly ignoring their expectant gazes.
“The city has power,” I said, leaning back in my chair and trying to hide my tiredness. “I fixed the generator, but there are new problems,” I trailed off.
I noticed their faces tighten slightly. As if they knew something else had happened.
“Something strange happened to me,” I continued. “Have you heard of Ursus Aranea?”
The elders exchanged glances, and after a moment one of them, probably the oldest, frowned. „Ursus Aranea?” he asked slowly, as if each word weighed a ton.
“Yes. A spider,” I confirmed, leaning forward. “Not the kind you see every day. A giant mutant. This one built a nest in the generator room, but they’ve never been in these parts before. They’re only seen in the far east.”
Silence fell over the room like fog. Each of them seemed to be thinking now. Their faces were lost in shadows. Finally, one of the Elders broke the silence. “We’ve had several similar reports. People say they’ve seen similar creatures up the stream where we get our water.”
“And what did you do?” I asked, even though the answer was obvious.
The elder nodded. “No one has come forward to check these reports.”
I frowned, feeling irritated. This place was their home, their source of life, and yet they were afraid to take the risk? I couldn’t understand how anyone could let fear paralyze action so much.
“I’ll check it out,” I said, looking directly at the Elders. “I’ve never refused help. Maybe my skills will actually be useful.”
The elders were relieved to hear my declaration, but before I left the room, I pulled something out of my bag that caught their attention. “I found these eggs in the nest. I want you to give them to the local Scribes. They might learn something.”
The elder respectfully accepted the eggs from me, nodding, „I’ll deliver them personally.”
I waved them off as they tried to thank me. Now all I wanted was some rest. As I left the room, I felt the mysterious atmosphere leave me behind, but the walls of the place still seemed to whisper.
When I finally reached my room, everything became easier. A hot bath brought relief to my tired muscles, and a hearty meal reminded me how much I missed such comfort. I went to bed, but sleep brought no peace.
Nightmares. I saw huge spiderwebs, like when I first fell into the Ursus Aranea trap. The webs wrapped around me, and I fought two beasts at once. I killed them, but I paid a high price for it. It was only by chance that people found me in the ruins of the Saraman-Kosa tower. I lay unconscious for days. I almost died.
I woke up with a start, trying to catch my breath. Reality returned, but the memories were too vivid. Luckily, I managed to get some sleep, and that was something.
After breakfast I went to look for Bahar. I found her in a small house where an herbalist was tending to her wound. Fortunately it turned out to be less serious than I thought. Bahar looked better, although still weak.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting down across from her.
“Better!” she smiled weakly. “What about you?”
I told her about the spider, about the Elders, and about the task they had given me. Bahar listened in silence, and when I had finished, I looked at her with a smile.
“Would you like to join me?” I asked jokingly. “You always said you wanted an adventure. And my expeditions rarely end in anything predictable.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, clearly hesitant. I could see the fear in her eyes, but there was also excitement, which was becoming more and more evident with each passing second. “I never know what I’ll get into when I’m with you,” she replied, then added, “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
I smiled broadly. I knew fear was holding her back, but curiosity and a thirst for adventure were stronger. Together we would go on an adventure to discover what lurked upstream!
We walked through narrow, damp tunnels. The echo of footsteps mingled with the quiet sound of water. Bahar spoke almost continuously. At first, it seemed to me that she wanted to fill the silence, or drown out the fear.
“My grandfather was a Scribe, did you know? He told me a lot about the past,” there was something in her voice that was more distracting than an echo – like she was absent, lost in her own thoughts. I wondered how much of it was just to hide her emotions, and how much of it was from a genuine need to share this knowledge.
“Before the explosion, humans were too dependent on machines,” she continued, and I simply nodded, allowing her to continue. I replayed the map of the caves in my head, trying to find logic in their endless corridors. With each passing moment, it seemed as if we were getting further and further away from reality.
“You know, people were stupid,” she said suddenly, almost as if she was expressing something she felt deep in her heart. “They were so stupid that they trusted technology more than they trusted each other.” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. Was she trying to tell me something? Or maybe she was just repeating what my grandfather had told her, unaware of how much those words applied to our situation.
The silence that followed was almost tangible. The tunnel seemed smaller now, the stream quieter. Was she waiting for an answer?
“People have always been like that,” I replied after a long moment, without taking my eyes off the narrow passageway ahead. “Technology is just a tool. Some people have simply forgotten that you have to know how to use it before it can be useful.”
Bahar didn’t answer. Maybe we had reached a point where we no longer had to speak, only go forward, into the darkness? No. She continued her story. She seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into her memories, as if the dark tunnels and the cold of the stream were awakening in her long-forgotten images.
“When I was little, everything was different in the Schinias bunker,” she began, quickening her pace. “The walls were cold and the air always smelled musty. We lived in constant darkness because they were saving energy. We had a generator, but we never knew how long it would last.”
I wondered what it must have been like – living underground, locked up, with no space, no sun. Perhaps that was why Bahar had been so eager to go to the surface. Space, even if destroyed, was better than the darkness of the bunker.
„Grandpa always said that it was harder for us women. Men had our strength, they went hunting. Women raised children, cooked, learned to survive. Funny how now I’m the one traveling and trading, isn’t it?” She fell silent for a moment, as if those words meant more to her than I expected. I left her in that silence, giving her time to think, but it didn’t last long.
„I always dreamed of seeing the world outside. My father said there was nothing there—only death and ruins, but my grandfather had a different opinion. He told me about the time before the explosion, about cities full of life and light. He always ended with one sentence—humans destroyed it all themselves.” She glanced at me briefly, as if seeking confirmation that her words made sense.
„I was always curious about what was on the surface. People who came out said it was hell. But I wanted to see it with my own eyes. And when the day finally came that I could come out, it was like waking up. Everything was destroyed, dead, but at least it was different. At least we were no longer locked in this concrete tomb,” Bahar’s voice said that talking about the past was a burden for her, but at the same time it gave her a sense of security.
“Maybe that’s why I travel,” she finally said. “I’ve never found a place I could call home. I felt trapped in the bunker, and now, outside? Maybe someday I’ll find something that will hold me for a while longer.” She trailed off, and the silence that followed was different this time. More deliberate. I had the impression that her story, while rich in detail, hid something deeper—something she was still afraid to talk about.
We walked on in silence, stepping carefully over the damp rocks. Upstream, as far as we could go. The tunnels drew closer around us, and the walls seemed to tremble in the semidarkness. Bahar, usually talkative, was silent. She seemed restless, but there was no turning back. Her hand was nervously clenching the hilt of her machete, which worried me more than the silence. When we entered a larger, more expansive cavern, we froze. Cobwebs hung heavily from the ceiling, entwining every stone and ledge. Bones gleamed on the ground in the light of our torches—some were clearly animal, but others were surprisingly human.
“Can we really handle this?” Bahar asked, drawing her machete. Its blade gleamed in the dim light, ready to cut.
“We have no choice,” I replied, pulling out the old knife that always accompanied me in such situations. It was like an extension of my hand, reliable, but this time I felt a special fear. These were not ordinary animals. The Ursus Aranea were something more. “We have to try. It would be too dangerous to go back now, and those spiders could threaten the city.”
Bahar looked at me seriously, and I saw in her eyes the same determination that often guided my steps. Despite her fear, she knew we had to act.
I began to prepare a new torch. I knew that fire was our only chance. I quickly tied the material I had in my backpack around the already burnt stick. I rubbed the flint against the stone, feeling the adrenaline quicken my pulse. The fire flared up violently, and the cave was immediately filled with warm, flickering light.
“Ready?” I asked, and she nodded. She was fully focused. Three spiders were in front of us, moving slowly, as if surveying the area. Their bodies were huge, dark, armored. Their spider legs, long as swords, made soft, scratchy sounds as they moved across the rocky ground. We decided—we had to strike first.
“Strike quickly, before they notice. On three?” I whispered, counting in my mind.
“It will be quick,” she replied in an equally quiet voice, and we jumped out of hiding.
We rushed towards the spiders. The fire in my hand shot forward, and one of the monsters hissed furiously, backing away from the flame. Bahar moved quickly, the machete in her hands cutting through the webs and the creature’s legs. She cut precisely, but I felt that with each blow we were meeting more and more resistance. The spider’s armor was thick, as if these mutated creatures were protected by nature from anything that could hurt them.
The spider attacked, lunging at Bahar. I only had time to jump to the side as its legs flew past my face. I quickly got up and aimed a blow at the spider, driving my knife into the soft tissue beneath its carapace. „Aaargh!” the creature made a terrible sound, staggering from the blow, but I knew that this was only the beginning.
The second spider approached me, and I raised my torch, trying to scare it away with fire. It squealed loudly, but it didn’t give up. I could feel its jaws getting closer with every second, but at the last moment Bahar struck it from the side, severing one of its legs. The spider staggered, and I used the moment to finish the attack – the knife dug deep, and the monster fell to the ground.
The third one remained. We were already tired and wounded, but we had to defeat it. Bahar was fast, but the spider caught her leg with its claw and knocked her down. Before it could bite, I lunged at it with my knife. I dealt several blows, but the creature was too strong. Bahar, despite the pain, managed to stand up and plunged the machete into the spider with such force that its armor cracked. „Shhh!” the creature gave a final hiss, then fell dead.
We were breathing heavily, trying to catch our breath. I thought it was over, all the spiders were dead, but then something huge moved in the darkness of the cave. From the depths of the lair she emerged. Three times larger than the rest, her eyes gleaming with intelligence, and from her throat came a voice I never thought I would hear. It was surprisingly… human?
“Why are you killing my children?” she asked, her words rough, unnatural, but understandable. We held our breath, staring at her in shock. “Arachne,” she said slowly, her voice echoing in my head. “Don’t you understand who I am?”
I closed my eyes for a split second, trying to calm the tremors in my hands. Arachne approached slowly, tensing the atmosphere with each step. Still, she wasn’t the biggest threat right now. Bahar’s breathing quickened, and her gaze became unfocused.
“Swen, I can’t do it,” she whispered in a trembling voice.
I looked at her, surprised. This wasn’t the same Bahar I had seen a moment ago, fighting spiders, full of determination. She was a different person now – scared, on the verge of breaking down.
“I can’t, you understand? I can’t,” her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve always, always been afraid of spiders. Obsessively! I wanted to be brave, I wanted to impress you. But now? Arachne? I can’t do it anymore!”
I knew it wasn’t just fear, it was real panic. Bahar held the machete, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t even hit a stone. Arachne was getting closer. A few more steps and we’d have no way to escape.
“Bahar, listen,” I began, trying to speak calmly, though inside I felt the same thing—fear. “We can’t give up now, do you understand? If you run, I’ll be left here alone. I can’t stand Arachne alone. I need you. I need your help more than ever!”
She looked at me, but I could see she was fighting with herself. Her instincts were screaming to run, and I had to find a way to stop it.
“Bahar!” I tried to maintain eye contact. “We fight together. We have always fought together. Now, more than ever, I need you here. I am as scared as you are, but if we run now, there will be no coming back. This is our only chance!”
Bahar’s eyes glazed over, and her hands were still shaking. She took a step back, as if she had already made up her mind. “You’re my best friend,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to leave you, but I don’t know if I can do it.”
“I know,” I interrupted, trying to sound as certain as possible. “This isn’t about me right now. This is about us. If you leave now, we can’t win. If you can’t do this, I can’t either. You know I won’t leave you alone, and you won’t leave me alone, right?”
Bahar closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Arachne was almost upon us now. I could feel that we didn’t have much time. But Bahar had to go through this. She had to understand that running away wasn’t an option.
“I can’t do this, Swen,” she repeated quietly. But then she did something I didn’t expect. She clenched her fists around the handle of her machete and stood up straight. She looked at me, her gaze suddenly more focused. “If I’m going to die, I want to die with you.”
I smiled at her, even as I felt the tension tighten in my stomach. “We won’t die. Not today.”
Arachne was now within reach, and her human voice once again echoed in the darkness: „Why are you killing my children?”
“Not today!” I roared, raising my knife and aiming straight at the spider’s abdomen. Fully concentrated, I struck with all my might, but the blade merely slid across its thick armor. The monster reacted instantly, one of its legs striking with full force, throwing me into the air. I fell hard, hitting my back against the damp cave wall. My ribs burned with pain, and for a moment I felt as if my breath had completely disappeared from my lungs. I tried to get up, but every bend, every movement, reminded me of shattered bones. I was barely aware of what was happening around me, but I managed to see Bahar lunge at the spider, striking with her machete with a precision and energy I hadn’t seen from her before.
Each of her blows seemed to be a precisely planned part of a deadly dance. The machete, glistening with her blood, swished at breakneck speed, striking Arachne’s limbs. Bahar was fast, and each slash found its mark. Unfortunately, each blow met with the same result – the spider mother’s armor deflected the blade. She was indestructible, her skin as hard as steel.
Bahar’s fight was like a real dance, full of energy and emotion, but eventually her pace slowed. She was injured, and blood ran down her arms, creating bloody lines on her skin. Every step was slower now, every beat weaker, as if she was starting to lose hope.
The moment finally came – Bahar fell to one knee, breathing hard. I thought that was the end, that Arachne would finally get her. My heart sank in my chest. This was supposed to be our end.
Then I heard something strange. A calm and melodious voice began to resonate in the cave. The echo of a quiet song filled the air.
” In a dark cave where shadows weave,
Arachne spins in her silent world.
The gods look down with contempt,
They laugh at the pride beneath her hard armor .”
A male voice. It was eerie, as if from another world. I looked towards the tunnel and saw a torch. It was held by a long-haired, slender man. His clothes were worn, but they must have once been beautiful. Every note of his song seemed to hypnotize Arachne. She stopped. For a moment, her mortal legs stopped moving.
„Though cruel fate still binds her tight,
Her pride holds strong through endless plight.
Wounded, yet she fights unbowed,
She spins her fate, though pain is loud.”
I did everything I could to focus on the song and understand what was happening. Bahar, seeing an opportunity, slowly backed away. She managed to reach me. She put her arms around me and began to help me stand. Every movement reminded me of my cracked ribs, but I knew we couldn’t stay where we were. I felt the weight of her body, tired, battered, but full of determination.
„The gods watch on, their laughter loud,
But Arachne’s pride remains unbowed.
Unyielding in her pride’s own snare,
She spins her fate, though power’s rare.”
Bahar and I looked at each other. Who was this man? How could his song have such a powerful effect on Arachne?
„Only the blade that hides in night,
Strikes soft the throat, unseen by sight.
Dull is the end her life shall meet,
As spindles of fate cease to beat.”
„Throat!” I tried to scream, but all I could manage was a gurgle from the pain. But Bahar understood – we had to aim for her throat. That was the only weak spot.
Together, slowly, tired and hurt, we rose. Bahar broke into a run and I followed her, each step hurting more than the last. We knew this was our last chance.
Arachne, distracted by the song, didn’t notice us running closer. Bahar threw the first blow, aiming exactly where it was supposed to – the throat. The strike was perfect. The machete blade dug deep, and I, fighting the pain, joined her, pushing my knife into the same place. The blades sank into the monster’s flesh. Arachne screeched, trying to pull away, but she was already too weak. With every second I felt the life draining from her body. Finally, she fell dead.
We were breathing heavily, soaked in blood, but alive. I looked at Bahar, her face was tired, but she smiled at me, and in her eyes I saw what I felt – relief.
As we looked toward the tunnel, the man disappeared as if he had never been there.
When I finally gathered my strength, I looked at Bahar and asked rhetorically, trying to control the trembling in my voice, “Who the hell was that man?”
Bahar was silent for a moment, as if struggling with something internally, before she answered slowly, “I’m not sure, but he reminds me of someone. A long time ago, when my grandfather kept the Scribes’ books, he was visited by a man dressed very similarly. They were looking for something important in the old tomes together. I don’t know what it was, but my grandfather called him a bard.”
The word sounded familiar, like an echo of a long-forgotten song. Whoever the bard was, his presence in this place was like a piece of a larger puzzle I didn’t yet understand.
We sat in silence for a moment, each trying to wrap our heads around what had just happened. Weariness was finally starting to take over my body. Even thinking about going back to the city seemed like a challenge.
“Let’s go back,” I said, trying to get to my feet. Bahar nodded, but I could see she was as tired as I was.
We got up from the ground and headed towards the city. All I wanted was a bath, hot water to wash away the blood and dirt, and a bed where I could forget about this nightmare. At least for a while.
