Page 91

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.