47. Arachne
47
ARACHNE
E verything is numb as Arachne walks aimlessly through the corridors. The others have moved on and resumed their research and planning, but she cannot. All she can think about is Cyril’s last moments.
Did he suffer? Was it quick? Does he wish she was there with him to say goodbye? The last thought is somewhat selfish, but she allows herself to feel it anyway.
The hallways thin and narrow. Before too long, Arachne finds herself in the catacombs of the Under Temple. The air here feels ancient and powerful, and she breathes it in deeply. Spiderwebs drape across the corners and hang from sconces, the firelight illuminating their opalescent quality.
The presence of the webs brings Arachne back to Corcyra in a heartbeat.
Her path stops abruptly as this tunnel dead ends, and Arachne’s shoulders slump. She does not want to turn around and walk back the way she came, but there is nothing left for her down here.
A breeze blows through, and Arachne freezes in place. How did wind reach her all the way down here?
An iridescent green spider skitters out from a large crack in the wall. Depending on how the torch light hits it, flecks of blues, pinks, and purples shine along its body.
Arachne puts out her hand and lets the palm-sized spider crawl onto it. She raises her arm and gazes into the many eyes of the creature.
“Hey there,” Arachne says in wonder, then frowns. “This is absurd. Is this what Hera felt like when she was talking to me?” She continues, “Well, if it is madness, so be it. I used to be like you, you know?”
The spider tilts its head in question, and Arachne goes on.
“I was cursed by the petty, vengeful goddess Athena to be a spider. I wasn’t a vibrant green like you, though. My body was the color of the most radiant pearl, with blush pinks and oranges tinging the edges in the sunlight.”
Arachne shakes her head,
“I hated myself then. But perhaps I was too impulsive in my hate. Perhaps if my spidery state were not the result of a curse, I might have had a chance to appreciate it more,” she muses sadly.
A tear runs a trail down Arachne’s cheek, and she wipes it away with her shoulder.
“All I wanted was to be off that island. Then I met Cyril and thought the universe was finally giving me a break. How could the Fates rip him away from me so cruelly? Is this what everyone in the realm goes through day in and day out?
“I sometimes wish I still had my webs and strength. Without them, I am ill equipped to exact the justice that my soul burns for. I want to make all of them pay for everything they have done to Olympus.”
The spider looks at Arachne, as if judging her. Then, without warning, it bites her, pincers digging into her delicate flesh.
“Ow!” She exclaims, and the spider drops to the ground and scrambles away.
The bite is red and swollen, and Arachne can feel it throbbing.
Great .
Tearing off a small strip of cloth from her robes, Arachne begins the long trek back to the upper levels of the temple to go see a healer.