Chapter 30: Astoria - Bound to Ruin

I can’t watch Valen and Alasdair’s fight, no matter how much my soul screams at each clash of power. Fear for Valen nearly breaks me, but I gather all my training and Aunt Viola’s face appears in my mind’s eye to give me strength. I suck in breath, blocking out all the noise while I face the cocoon where I suspect my Creation ancestor imprisoned an arachnid goddess.

Gold flickering in my peripheral vision catches my attention. My father’s Soul Thread waves lightly from where I tossed him into the pit. The notebook presses against my lower back where I tucked it safely away. The chain wrapped around my arm still glows from the magic it absorbed, each pearl representing my Entropy ancestors glinting.

Viola’s voice whispers from when I was a child in her room, patiently waiting while she combed my hair and told me stories of my family. You were always meant to be a Rosemont, my little love.

Soul Threads are passed from parent to child in one line that makes up the Tapestry of Magic. Which means my mother had one Entropy Soul Thread that passed down to me when I was born. If I had only one thread, that would make me a Rosemont by default. But I came into this world with two threads.

I glance back at Alasdair, homing in on his Soul Thread. Alasdair inherited my father’s Soul Thread, not Luciana’s Transformation line. I’d assumed, like everyone else, that my Creation Thread was also my father’s. It would make sense if Duals accidentally inherit both parents’ threads, and that is what makes them so unstable.

Antonia’s glowing eyes, the way her voice warped to a hiss while she wound my threads with the Archweaver line, come to me. Magic does not make mistakes.

The little sprouting threads waving to Alvius. The way he gathered them. The uncut ruby. A new family line, Jinx had said.

I suck in breath, turning to the Archweaver line in my hand. I press my thumb down on the four threads, rubbing back and forth until they sit side by side in my hand. The gold thread of Creation flashes merrily, and I follow it to my heart where the Transformation, Preservation, and Entropy lines twist with my Rosemont Thread within my soul.

I’m not an Androclaria. I am not of the same line as my father like Alasdair. My Creation Thread is the newly sprouted gold thread Alvius gathered in his hand. The four new family lines that were supposed to be four Dual Threads weavers in the next birthing cycle.

I slowly pull the threads apart like I would if I had a tangle in my hair. I hit a snag, Antonia’s face flashing in my vision.

My lips part, eyes wide. Alvius Androclaria came to extraordinary power by plucking his Soul Thread from his family line and weaving it directly to the Tapestry. But it was a lie. He didn’t pluck it. He knotted his Soul Thread with the four new ones to force the threads into his heart and soul. But that means there are two Creation Threads. The imbalance is mind-numbing to comprehend. Is this why all the Archweavers were parents to child Androclarias? So that more and more Soul Threads did not knot with the Archweaver line and make it more unstable?

The line trembles, and my gaze snaps up. The bindings around the cocoon shift.

The queen spider is alive. Or awake. Or waking. It doesn’t fucking matter. I have found my answer. My fingers are nimble from working with Soul Threads within grimoires, but the rope is so long, and the cocoon is large. Valen can only hold Alasdair for so long.

I need to remove the knots made by previous Archweavers. Which means I need to cut the Androclaria line. Viola would’ve received her Creation Thread from her father, and Atticus from his Archweaver mother. Viola’s soul will survive, but Antonia? I can’t think about that. I need to focus.

My flames gather in my hands, my left cold with the black flickering Entropy flame and my right hot with the gold Creation flame. I wrap my left hand around the knot made by the Androclaria Creation Thread, and it dissolves into powdery ash.

Alasdair’s screech trembles the threaded path I’m on, and I fall to my knees. I can’t pay attention to him. I need to trust in Valen and focus.

I hold the four Soul Threads in both hands, my flames traveling up the rope, dissolving each Androclaria Creation Thread knot that holds it together. I sink deeper and deeper into my task, knowing Valen is at my back, protecting me. If he falls, nothing will matter.

Finally, my flames reach the top of the cocoon. The four threads trapped by a thick knot sprout through a raw, pulsing base, so different from the sleek black shell that I saw in my vision. The pain this creature must’ve been in for thousands of years. Sweat trickles down me, my breath pumping as my Entropy flame burns Alvius Androclaria’s Soul Thread to ash. The four trapped threads separate, sliding into their correct positions, and the swelling caused by the tugging eases until the base is shiny black once again.

The sphere trembles, and I stumble along the threads, eyes snapping open and flames dousing. The cocoon bulges and distorts. I step back slowly, my eyes wide. A slrrrk echoes, and a long, black point pierces the prison at the peak. A second joins, and the two pull apart, that wet ripping turning my insides, and a cold chill of terror has me trembling as I back up faster and faster.

A head emerges, long hair cascading down like a river flowing in glittering gold, black, blue, and green. Through the darkness, the silhouette of a beautiful woman emerges, her shoulder tilting up as she turns towards me, her flowing hair rippling with pure magic.

Then eyes open along her shoulder, and the horror of what I’m witnessing sends me crumpling to the threads below. It’s not a silhouette, nor is it a woman. The threads spilling forth are not from a scalp, but from a spider-like spinneret. A monstrous creature with eight pointed legs and too many joints uncoils from the threads. The queen of the spider creatures stretches out of her prison, my mind battling to understand its form.

Perhaps Alvius Androclaria had a reason to imprison it.

I run, my feet sliding along the threads that begin to suck towards the creature. I don’t think. I don’t look back. I pour everything I have into my mad sprint towards the battle.

I don’t stop when I snatch Valen by the arm and drag him with me. I distantly hear him gasp, “What is that?”

“Just run!” I scream.

We’re almost at the seam in the Tapestry that I slipped through to get to this place, but it’s blocked. Those spidery creatures are pouring in, their disturbing, rippling legs moving fast as they crawl along the inside of the Tapestry’s sphere. They make a sound that raises the hair along my arms. It’s as joyful as it is disturbing, and we’re forced to stop or get trampled.

My heart races, and I turn back to gauge the queen’s pursuit.

She’s stretching after two thousand years of confinement. The spidery attendants wave their many arms, more active than I’ve ever seen them. A few hop down to preen the light strands that I mistook for hair. They’re so small on her, and the threads glitter under the attention. Then her too-numerous eyes land on me, and I nearly scream. My hand trembles on Valen, and he clutches me, drawing me closer to him.

Those many eyes flick away from us, one by one, to land on Alasdair.

She shrieks, and I cover my ears uselessly, the sound’s vibration shaking through my form. Alasdair bolts towards us, but a spidery creature falls upon him from its crouch along the inside of the sphere. It catches him and throws him back towards the queen with another earsplitting cry. It’s almost like a signal for the other creatures to descend upon him. Alasdair’s magic crackles all around, but it’s too late; the queen crawls down the cocoon while the others corral Alasdair in place.

I force my gaze away to inspect our exit. The seam is clear. Turning on my heel, I drag Valen with me through the Tapestry. The sounds of the creatures tearing into my brother follow me to the other side, the stars above twinkling brighter than ever before.

Valen and I sprint as fast as we can along the Tapestry of Magic. Our hands are tightly clasped together, too afraid that we’d lose the other as the threads below us ripple and bulge. Creeping child hands with too long, pointed fingers reach through the pattern, grabbing and tugging, worsening the unstable floor.

Valen points ahead. “There! The sacred mirror.”

I swerve with him to head towards the glowing arch against the magic realm’s darkness. I scan the stars as best I can, searching wildly. I scream, “Jinx!” But there’s no answer. I try again and again, nearly falling if not for Valen’s grip on me. My heart is beating too fast, panic nearly robbing me of my senses. She’ll be fine. She’ll find me once I’m back in my body. It will all be okay.

Valen gasps as he stumbles to his knees from a rough shake of the Tapestry, and I whip my head forward just in time to collide headfirst into the mirror. My soul rattles, and I choke with the agony as I crumple. Valen grabs me, dragging me up with him. His gaze bounces all around the glowing archway, and he presses his hand against it. His fingers slip through easily, and he withdraws, taking my hand in his and trying again. It’s like I’m hitting a glass wall, and I squeeze my eyes closed to gather my remaining strength. “Go, Valen.”

I open my eyes to meet his too-wide ones. He shakes his head. “No. I’m not leaving without you.”

A screech rattles the realm, and the queen bursts through the Tapestry. Her many eyes fall upon me, and I tremble under her stare. I grab Valen’s face and kiss him fiercely. “You want to help me? Then get me out of the statue!” And I throw him with all my strength, my fire crackling along my form to burn his hands so he has no choice but to let me go.

He roars for me as he goes through. Light flares, searing my eyes. I shield myself with my arms, and when I lower them again, the archway is gone, and I am alone once again, with creatures tearing their way through the tightly wound threads to behold my defenseless soul.