Into Her Web

The nights in the lower ring were unnaturally quiet. Since Plaga had taken hold of the people and the land, the cries of the desperate had faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. Gerald sat on the edge of his cot, the small candle flickering weakly in the corner of the room. The air was thick, heavy with the presence he had come to recognize as hers.

It was a presence he no longer tried to resist.

The room grew colder, the faint scent of decay mingling with the damp air. He didn’t look up when he felt the shadows shift, didn’t move when her figure materialized from the darkness. She was there, as she always was, a force that seemed to take up every corner of the room, every part of his mind.

“Gerald,” she said softly, her voice like silk sliding through the air. “Why do you sit here, so far from rest? Your body is weary, your soul even more so.”

“I can’t rest,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “Not when I know you’re always near, waiting.”