Chapter 25 - Bound to Ruin

THE TAPESTRY OF MAGIC, THE WEAVE.

The Tapestry of Magic appeared first as one of the many stars that grew larger and larger, the silver hue shifting to a spectrum of colors that resembled the aura surrounding the Archweaver and Heir. The reflective surface below Jinx flickers with little tendrils weaving forth, growing more numerous until Jinx slows to a soundless crawl.

My head throbs, my eyes aching, as I fight to adjust to the bright glow before us. I don’t dare say a word. Jinx warned me plenty of the horrors of this place. I’d live a long, happy life never meeting a soul devourer ever again.

The energy washes over me, my skin prickling like thousands of needles dance along it, crawling into my ears, under my eyelids, into my mouth and nose. I bow over Jinx, using my hands to cover as much of my face as I can, and Jinx’s mane shifts until only the crown of my head is above her silken fur. The needles ebb until they cease completely.

I pant, trembling from the lingering discomfort. I wiggle against the fur, and each stroke soothes the haunting pricks until I am sure it is all over. Then I sit up and gasp.

The Tapestry is aptly named. Black, gold, blue, and green threads weave tightly together to form a glowing fabric that stretches out towards the cosmos in a seemingly endless path. Jinx pauses before the tightly interlaced Soul Threads, a mighty paw raised and poised to step forward.

Slowly, she scans the bright horizon of the Tapestry, her ears pricked straight up. I do the same, though my senses are nearly useless in this world. The air tingles with the thick scent of magic, and the bright light from the threads threatens to blind me.

Jinx’s paw touches the edge of the Tapestry, and she waits. I keep myself low down, breathing as quietly as I can. Then she walks forward silently, and we enter the Tapestry of Magic.

We travel for hours until I can no longer see the mirrored surface of the Weave. The stars are bright above, the falling ones still arcing past with their trailing clouds. And the Tapestry goes on and on, with only the hum of magic to accompany it.

Then I blink, and the Tapestry changes. I hold my gasp as I whip around. No longer a smooth woven, glowing cloth, frayed threads wave from the pattern like seaweed. First a few, then in the thousands. Jinx pads along them, her feet sinking into the multicolored strands.

I can’t hold my tongue any longer. “What is this?”

“War cut these threads,” Jinx whispers low, her body flinching and her fur twitching.

My eyes widen. This is when the Revolution happened. So many weavers died in that war. So many lost souls improperly put to rest, all of them unable to return to the Tapestry. Then there were Soul Threads lost to magic tokens. The frayed tips haunt me, a chill shivering up my form. Like someone took a razor’s edge and sawed at it. I want to slide off Jinx to smooth the ends and walk along them to see what secrets they hold like my high priest ancestors.

But that will have to wait.

Finally, the waving threads lessen until the Tapestry is once again a fabric. But it’s so much more than that. Each interwoven thread is spun with another, making each cross-section plump with glowing power. My lips part. There used to be so many of us before war brutally cut us down.

Doomed to extinction. My heart pulses, and I smooth a hand over my chest, the pearls of my family line’s chain pressing against my sternum.

Jinx drops her body down flat so fast that I almost fly off. Her bones turn liquid until she’s more black puddle than feline creature. Unsure what to do, I lie down as best I can.

This place rings with the eerie high-pitched bell of magic, the threads under Jinx gently vibrating through her flat body.

Then the darkness shifts, and my head whips to the left. In the far distance, something massive blocks out the twinkling stars. My breath puffs, an instinctual reaction to my building fear.

Something long and thin arcs up before soundlessly touching back down.

A heartbeat passes. Then two.

The shadow surges forward. Completely silent, with only the stars blotting out one by one as it charges. Jinx reforms with a leap, her paws digging into the threads to take off at a sprint.

My brain aches at the speed of something so large, the pressure building as I try to understand the darkness. Eight limbs ripple like a thousand joints fill them. Little spindly human hands appear at each point, gripping the Tapestry’s tightly woven threads for purchase.

Eyes of different shapes and colors open in a ripple and turn towards me lying on Jinx’s back. Then fall to Jinx’s sprinting form.

A screech that would make my real-life eardrums rupture shakes the cosmos above. I gasp, “Faster, Jinx.”

Jinx puts her full speed into her sprint, her body shifting so her hind legs lengthen. I grip her fur, my hair rippling behind me. I glance back. Completely soundless, the spider creature gains on us.

A four-pointed maw stretches open from where the legs meet. A tendril of slime dangles before a spiraling hell of inward-pointing teeth, spinning to capture and suck its prey down with no hope of escape.

“Jinx!” I scream.

Suddenly, the mane I’m riding in poofs up, and the strands I’m gripping rip from my fists. I spiral through the space, the stars and Tapestry blending confusingly together until I crash into the threads. I bounce, rolling and clutching the notebook to my chest one-handed. Disoriented, I scramble unsteadily to my feet.

Jinx dashes off into the darkness, leading the spider creature away from me. My cry for her catches in my throat and I sprint after them, but it’s no use. They’re too fast. I barely make it ten steps before they disappear.

I clutch my heart and scream silently, my knees colliding with the Tapestry as I crumble. I bow over, rocking. The bond within my Entropy Soul Thread, that connection to Jinx, is gone.

How could she leave me like this? No warning at all. No way for me to come up with a different plan that doesn’t leave us separated until I figure out some way to survive this mess. How could she leave me without knowing if I’ll ever see her again?

No, I cannot fall into the black pit of those thoughts. I’ll never get free otherwise. Scrambling to my feet, I scrape my flowing hair out of my face and turn in a circle. There’s nothing but tightly woven Soul Threads for as far as the eye can see. I can’t tell which way we came from or where we were going. I look up at the stars. They’re the same as always, and I nearly scream in frustration at my own stupidity. I should’ve made a chart of them when I had the chance.

I swallow and turn back to where Jinx disappeared. Nothing moves. No terrifying monstrous spider. No Jinx.

A vibration trembles up my legs and I choke back a scream. I can’t be absorbed. Not yet. I need more time.

Then my heart begins to race, not in building terror, but with that elation that comes with my Dual Threads dancing. I gasp, looking down at myself. My eyes glow bright green, and I rotate my hands. Magic ripples along my fingers, distorting them for a moment before my flames flicker into existence.

My family line chain shimmers, the pearls absorbing the magic of my flames until they glint with power. My head tilts as I touch one. A woman’s face flashes in my vision, and I stumble back, my finger leaving the pearl. The image is gone.

I turn my left arm, inspecting the chain, and touch another pearl. Then another. And another. Priesthood mages flicker before me. A soft echo that is not heard but felt rings in my heart. Jessari. Reavin. Windalyn. I press the raw ruby over my middle finger. Uldra. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

My eyes burn, tears falling soundlessly. My ancestors. Each pearl lights with my connection to the Tapestry, and their Soul Threads glint like shooting arrows into the distance.

I glance down at my chest. My two threads light up, dancing around the Archweaver line. The black thread arcs out behind me, and I run my fingers along the pearls of my family’s Entropy Thread. The Tapestry appears to be moving in chronological order. Where my Entropy Thread extends from is the front of the Tapestry and where we entered would be.

Which means…

I turn around. My golden Creation Thread stretches out before me in the opposite direction, following the same path as the twisting Archweaver line. A smile tugs at my lips as hope soars.

Hold on, Jinx. I’ve got a plan.

The Tapestry is endless. It’s as if I’ve been walking for days. My body aches strangely from my crash landing. The sensation is like a sharp, electrical current that rattles my teeth.

The absence of Jinx within my soul is maddening, the silence carving into my heart over and over. What if the spider creature caught her? Tore her apart? Or what if she’s injured and another demon eats her? She warned me that she wouldn’t be able to find me again if we got separated. The only hope I have is breaking the curse and returning to my boys.

Jinx will live. She will get away. She has to.

I keep my magic thrumming through me so I do not lose track of my Creation Thread and the Archweaver line. It’s astounding how much power I have now that I’m touching the Tapestry. There’s no exhaustion, no burnout from channeling for too long.

I scan the horizon again and stumble with a gasp, my feet tangling when I whip to my right. One of the spider creatures walks alongside me. How long it’s been here, I don’t know. Its many eyes are closed, and it looks more like a void that ripples along eight legs than a creature. It passes by me without a thought or care that I’m there. At least Jinx was right about that. It doesn’t perceive me as a threat or recognize me as something other than the Tapestry. I am just one of many souls under its care.

My hand touches my chest. What if it tries to shove me into the Tapestry? I flinch away, but there’s no need. It continues on its lonesome wander, unbothered.

I look around once more. There’s no Jinx lurking in the stars, no other creature as far as I can tell. I check my Soul Threads and hold in a groan. Of course, it would be on the same path as me.

For a long time, nothing happens. We just walk. My brain throbs, but the pain lessens and, with it, my eyes ache less. It allows me to perceive the creature as more than a black void. Its long legs are attached to a single oval body segment, not two like how I’m used to seeing on spiders. The creature sits high on its rippling legs, straight like stilts. The hands on the ends look too human. Unease chills me. They’re about the size of a child’s with freakishly long fingers. Same number of knuckles. Thumbs, too. Gross.

Then, the creature walks off a ledge.

I pause. The Tapestry stretches on and on, and yet the creature definitely stepped off and disappeared like it was walking around a corner.

I cross my arms over the notebook like it’s a lifeline and creep closer and closer to where the creature disappeared. I don’t dare to blink in case I lose sight of where in the pattern of threads it disappeared.

I inch my foot forward, pressing down with my toes tentatively on the patch of Tapestry that looks just like all the others. My heart pulses when my toes slide down into the woven pattern. I don’t dare pull back lest I lose the spot.

I chew my lip, nail flicking the notebook’s cracked leather edge. What if this is a trap to absorb my soul?

My toes wiggle on the other side. Perhaps this is just a hiding place for all the other spiders. An illusion to hide the opening.

Or I’m about to die.

I touch my chest, and my threads flare to life. The Archweaver line and my Creation Thread slip down in the same crack.

With a breath, I take a leap of faith and step as if I’m going down stairs.

The Weave shifts. I suck in air as I flip at a right angle and fall through the Tapestry to stumble on the other side. My mind spins, sickness rising as I get used to a different gravity orientation, but I soon forget all of it when I take in what I’ve found.

My jaw drops, and my head tilts back farther and farther to understand what I’m seeing. It’s like I’ve stumbled into a massive sphere consisting of the Tapestry of Magic, so large that a city could fit comfortably within this hollow space. In the very center sits some sort of oval-shaped ball that glints with the light of Soul Threads. A core of some sort? Large pathways of stretching threads connect this oval to the sphere. Maybe it’s like a spool of thread, and it feeds more Soul Threads into the Tapestry?

Those spidery creatures are here. A lot of them. But there’s something off about them. Some are stretched flat along the curve of the dome; others wander slowly like the one I followed. Some don’t move at all, like statues. Is this their den?

I glance down. I’ve stepped onto one of those paths made up of thousands and thousands of threads stretching straight to the base of the core. I shift my feet, testing how solid this flooring is. I have no interest in finding out what’s on the other side if I fall through. Thank the—well, here —that it’s solid.

I ease forward slowly in hopes that the spidery creatures continue to not notice me. My caution is unnecessary. I’m as relevant as an ant within their house, with the size proportions to match. The size of this core is immense, growing larger and larger as I draw nearer. Peripetia could fit within my loft and basement included.

I hesitantly inch to the side of the thread path I’m walking on and peer over it, half expecting to see more and more of the same wide paths stretching to the other side of the sphere. There’s nothing but darkness. My skin crawls with the eerie emptiness of it. I quickly make my way to the center of my path and continue with my walk to the core.

One would think the spiders would awaken and protect their source of Soul Threads—if that’s what the core is—but nope. Dull as always. Except when one tried to murder my familiar. That asshole.

Finally, I reach the base of the core, and I plant my hands on my hips while gazing up at it. I can’t quite decide if it’s a yarn ball of Soul Threads or some sort of knot.

My Dual Threads glint when I touch my chest again. This time, there is no Creation Thread that stretches along the Archweaver line. I frown, turning in a circle. My Entropy stretches back to the Tapestry, where I’d stepped through the sphere, but where did my Creation one go?

The Archweaver line sways lightly when I gently wrap my right hand around it. I’ve never held my threads before. They’re so soft, and they roll when I rotate them while searching for my Creation Thread.

Glinting in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I move closer to the core, head tilting to get a better angle at what it is that I’m looking at. The same multicolored rope is twisted around the core. Is the Archweaver line part of the structure? I loop my finger around the rope and softly tug it to get a better look.

Power cracks, and pain shoots up my arm. I gasp, recoiling back and dropping the line. An electrical current lights up the woven core, crackling angrily like a brewing storm. The spider creatures wake from their trance with earsplitting shrieks so high-pitched that I cover my ears. The spiders are running, their legs arcing in that terrifying ripple that chased Jinx from me.

I scramble away from the core, rolling as I desperately try to find a safe place to hide. But the spiders are fleeing, not attacking. Their hands grasp each other, trying to force each other out of the way as they pour through the opening I stepped through. The threads beneath me vibrate from their struggles, and I flatten myself out in case I slip through.

Finally, they all disappear back to the other side. I stay splayed on the threads, panting while I wait for my heart to stop racing. I wet my lips and push off the path with shaky arms to sit up. The hum of magic is the only sound again, or perhaps the shrieking has damaged my hearing in some way. I rub my right fingers together, trying to ease the pain from the bolt.

Movement in the corner of my eyes has me flinching, and I look sharply to my side. Antonia stands stoically beside me. She’s not the young Archweaver who matches the statue within Memorial Park. No, this is the ancient Archweaver who survived a war, slaughtered her enemies, and pieced together her people into a new existence away from the humans.

Her wizened face turns towards me, her white hair flowing all around. “Now it’s time.”

“Time for what?” I ask as I return to standing.

“To learn the truth.”

Her hand stretches towards me, and I take it. Images flash before me. A man stands where I am now, so familiar yet different. His green eyes glow, and he calls forth, “Please, great goddess. I beseech you. Your high priests are no longer the guardians of magic, but corrupt, power-crazed fools who seek to devour all those within the physical world. Save us. Please, I beg of you.”

Antonia’s voice echoes. “Alvius Androclaria did not find the benevolent goddess he was raised to believe watched over them, but a creature unbothered by the sounds of his cries. Still, he persisted.”

Alvius is older, more similar to his portraits within my childhood home. He pants, sweat slicking his brow. He kneels on something black and smooth, inspecting a divot of some sort. The image clears when I step forward, trying to see what it is that he’s studying. Soul Threads pour forth. Thousands and thousands of them. He touches and shifts them, searching.

His face stretches into a grin and, with tender care, he splits the threads as if he’s parting the hair on a scalp. Teeny tiny threads no longer than my finger sway. He carefully sorts through them until he finds one of each color close enough that they can touch when gathered together.

“He did what he felt he must to save humanity and the mages from the priesthood.”

The scene shifts. A massive mirror that I recognize from the Archweaver estate’s old temple ripples, light pouring forth like the sun’s rays. Alvius Androclaria, the first Archweaver, steps forth. An opalescent aura halos around his form, and the mages in attendance fall to their knees.

“But the cost was greater than he ever knew.”

I’m no longer on the path of tightly stretched Soul Threads. I am on a mighty web. Each thread stretches to hold glinting souls, much like the pearls on my chain. Where red orbs glitter, multiple color strands burst forth. My jaw drops, my neck craning as I try to fathom the impossibility of all the threads. Like neurons, they flash with light, passing magic between them in an endless current. The spiders are dancing along them, their eight limbs rippling as they elegantly navigate through the connections, tending to strands and inspecting the glowing souls. So different from the creatures I’ve witnessed that I hardly believe they’re the same.

I blink, and the visions are gone, as well as Antonia.

Alone, I face the core. My fingers stretch forth to grasp the Archweaver line that slithers from my soul.

A suspicion takes root, and my eyes narrow as facts begin to link in my mind. This is not a ball of threads or skein; this is a prison. A consequence of Alvius messing with things beyond his mortal comprehension.

He did something to those newly forming Soul Threads and, whatever it was, it made this ball. I bet if I were to peer inside, I’d find the queen Jinx spoke of. A goddess or creature beyond mortal comprehension who was bound within her own web of magical threads by a man. A liar who created a fanatic cult of followers before slaughtering all who dared to resist his will.

My fist tightens on the Archweaver line. All my life, I fought tooth and nail to force this Order of lies to accept me, a Dual Threaded weaver they labeled as an abomination. We are not abominations. We are the missing link of population regrowth that Rossana and my mother couldn’t find.

This is not a Tapestry. It is a web created by spidery creatures who cared for it. Who lost the ability to care for it when their queen was imprisoned by mortal tampering.

Everything in two thousand years—the decline of the population, the rigidity of magic, everything—can be traced to this. To Alvius Androclaria, a man who declared a priesthood false and trapped the arachnid goddess in order to create the Archweaver Soul Thread for himself.

Viola’s words from long ago when she first handed me the notebook whispers in my ears. If weaver magic cannot save you, then we must look outside the rigid laws of man.

I look down at the rope of threads in my hand. My wrist rolls, twisting the Archweaver line tight, not towards the prison of threads, but away. Around and around, I wind it, my other hand joining to feel along the threads. Like the pearls along my chain, there are small knots on the line that are the souls of long-deceased Archweavers. I continue until a spark of recognition stills me and my lips curl.

Now I will open your eyes, and you will save yourself. You will save us all.

Power surges within me, tendrils of electricity rippling up my arms to arc along my face and spark in my vision. My hair whips around me. No more running. No more trying to bend the rules that should never have existed. No more trying to fit into a mold that doesn’t fit me. I will save us. Jinx, Lucas, Valen, all of us.

This ends now.

My power surges, crackling along the rope, my skin flashing a bright light. My vision blurs as I gaze through my father’s eyes. The Archweaver’s estate greets me. The Astrum Order is gathered. The statue of Antonia, decimated by my imprisoned body, stands to the side. The Guild is gathered in the back of the hall.

Valen is before Atticus on his knees, a muzzle binding him and his arms shackled behind his back. Lucas is yelling, surging against where Dimitar restrains him with the Guild. My father’s words echo in my ears, my lips moving as if I’m saying them.

“Valentin Bauer the Sixth, you are found guilty of treason and malicious intent against your Archweaver. Against the Order you swore to serve. For your crimes, you shall be executed. Your bones scattered across the continent. Your flesh fed to the beasts of the deep Weave so for all eternity, you will know nothing but suffering.”

Rage pulses in me, flashing my vision red. How dare he?

I scream, my hair blowing back, the threads below my feet vibrating. Like tearing out the Soul Thread of a grimoire, I wrench the arm holding the Archweaver Soul Thread back as hard as I can. A pulse echoes around the sphere, my flowing hair blowing back as I rip at my father’s thread with all the power in my body.

I throw my left arm out, and my hand closes around the throat of a man. Power explodes from the impact, and the soul of my father writhes in my grip. The uncut ruby shifts on my middle finger, and I smile.

The shock of such an end is jarring. His mouth opens and closes like a gasping fish, and I wait patiently while he trembles, eyes darting all around.

His eyes focus on me and my heart thumps. I lean closer to him and say calmly, “It’s important that you know this is because of me.”

He bucks in my grip and power sparks down his soul. He screeches, and my smile grows. I wait for him to settle from the bolts of soul pain before continuing, “I always thought I’d drag your suffering out for days. Yet, here I am without the luxury of wasting my precious time on such a pathetic creature.”

My other hand shifts, my fingers lengthening with long talons. They click together as my power ripples, that euphoric pulse relaxing me into this moment.

“But don’t think it won’t be painful. Oh no. Any hope of that died when you chose to come after Lucas and Valen. Those men? They are mine.”

My voice deepens, echoing with power as everything dims, my magic surrounding us in darkness. “For all eternity, you will know nothing but suffering.”

I tear into his soul, the wet ripping oddly satisfying. The screaming echoes within the Tapestry, and I smile, head tilting as I bask in the glory of my revenge finally coming to a close.

When he’s no more than dangling ribbons within my fist, I toss the shredded pieces over the edge so they disappear into the dark pit below. My fingers return to normal with a roll of my wrist. I’ve done all I can to help Valen and Lucas. I’ve shot my location like a flare into the night sky for my brother. He’ll come running, if not to reclaim my soul, then to stop me from becoming the new Archweaver.

He knows that if I do, I’ll tear through his fucking curse to become his worst nightmare.