~ "Every thread is a choice. Every choice is a cost." ~
The silk bridge beneath Spidey's feet hummed softly with each step, a low, melodic vibration like a lullaby woven from memory. The lavender fog ahead pulsed gently, as though breathing. Spidey clutched her arms, her skin still tingling from the echoes in the Mirror Realm.
Nyxi remained quiet for once, resting like a red rune etched into her collarbone.
> "Do you hear that?" Spidey whispered.
The fog whispered back.
It wasn't language more like the flutter of wings, the crackle of paper, the hush of something sacred.
> "That is the sound of a truth waiting to be found," Nyxi said finally. "We're close now."
---
They stepped off the bridge into a meadow made entirely of moonlight.
Not grass. Not dirt. Just threads.
Thousands of fine silver strands stretched across the earth like a tapestry waiting to be inked. Between them bloomed ghost flowers soft, translucent, and pulsing gently with inner light.
In the center of it all hovered a small orb of pale blue flame, cradled within the wings of a sleeping moth as big as a cat. Its wings were torn and mended in places with tiny stitches of gold.
> "The Ghost-Moth's Lantern," Nyxi whispered, her voice almost reverent. "It burns with grief, but it leads the way."
Spidey stepped forward and the threads beneath her foot trembled.
Suddenly, the meadow shifted.
Not visibly. But emotionally. Like a room remembering it once held a funeral.
The air turned thick. Warm. Too familiar.
Spidey felt her lungs tighten.
> "Why does this feel like... home?" she murmured.
> "Because it's a piece of what you've forgotten," Nyxi said. "A trial isn't always about danger. Sometimes, it's about what you're willing to face."
---
A voice rang out clear and aching.
> "Spidey. Is that you?"
She turned.
A figure stood at the edge of the meadow. A man.
He looked… tired. Familiar. Kind.
> "Dad?" she gasped.
But she knew better. He was gone. Long gone.
Still, her legs moved on their own. She walked toward him, heart thudding.
> "I missed you," she breathed.
The man smiled sadly.
> "You always told me stories, remember? Even when no one listened to you… you told them anyway. Why'd you stop?"
Spidey swallowed. Her throat burned.
> "Because no one believed them."
> "But you did."
She looked down. Her fists were trembling.
> "You're not real," she whispered. "You can't be. You're gone."
The man stepped forward. "That doesn't mean I don't miss you."
Nyxi hissed sharply.
> "Spidey. This is the Lantern's Grief. It will offer you comfort in exchange for purpose. Don't let it lull you."
> "But what if I want to stay just for a moment?" she whispered.
> "Then you forget why you came."
---
The figure opened his arms. "Just one hug, little web spinner."
Spidey closed her eyes. Her breath caught.
> "No," she said, backing away. "No, I remember. You never said goodbye. You never came back. And that hurt. But I'm not here to relive that pain. I'm here to fix what broke."
The man flickered.
The meadow rippled.
And the moth's wings began to glow.
> "Well done," Nyxi murmured. "You refused the grief's comfort. That is strength."
The moth's eyes opened deep pools of silver sorrow. It fluttered once, twice, then released the Lantern.
It drifted toward Spidey, weightless and full of soft fire.
She reached out and it came to rest in her palm.
Immediately, warmth flooded her veins. Not joy. Not pain.
Understanding.
She gasped as memories surged forward: A lullaby her mother used to hum before everything turned sharp. A time she laughed so hard she dropped a whole basket of apples. The day she learned spiders wove not only webs but stories.
> "This… this was mine," she whispered.
> "It was always yours," Nyxi replied.
---
But before she could ask what came next, the threads underfoot twisted.
A hiss rose sharp and sour.
From beneath the meadow, shadow spines erupted.
Not Echo-Shades this time. These were worse.
Thread-Eaters.
They looked like torn dolls with eyes sewn shut and mouths full of unraveling teeth. Their limbs clicked like broken clocks.
> "They smell the Lantern," Nyxi said, bracing. "They crave grief. Run."
Spidey bolted, the Lantern clenched to her chest. The threads beneath her surged like waves. Flowers burst into flame as the Thread-Eaters followed, limbs scraping, jaws gnashing, singing in broken lullabies:
> "Thread by thread, stitch and scream, Mend the world, then lose the dream…"
One leapt toward her.
Nyxi spat a flare of red rune fire. It screamed and fell backward, unraveling into smoke.
> "Faster, Spidey!"
> "I don't know where I'm going!"
> "Then trust the thread!"
Spidey's foot caught something a golden filament stretching into the mist. It shimmered.
Without thinking, she grabbed it and it pulled her.
Forward.
Through the burning meadow.
Past the screaming ghosts.
Into silence.
---
They landed hard on a bed of woven clouds, breathless.
The Lantern still burned in her hand, steady and soft.
> "You did it," Nyxi said between pants. "The trial is passed. You claimed grief, but didn't let it claim you."
Spidey looked at the Lantern.
> "Then what now? Where do we go from here?"
Nyxi lifted her head toward a dark shape rising on the horizon a twisted mountain shaped like a needle, its peak lost in stormclouds.
> "Now, we climb the Spire of Stitches. Where the Weaver sleeps… or waits."
Spidey exhaled.
> "And what does it want?"
Nyxi's voice dropped low.
> "You."
> "Why?"
> "Because you're the thread it never wove. The voice it tried to silence. And now… you're speaking louder than ever."
Spidey stood slowly.
Clutching the Lantern in one hand and the golden filament in the other, she took her first step toward the looming Spire.
> "Then let it hear me."
---
TO BE CONTINUED…
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