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Shiiiiing.
A spider angled her blade and dragged it along the whetstone. One, two, three. She flipped it and repeated the process. One, two, three.
Shiiiiing.
The sound of stone scraping against metal was a comfort, something familiar in a world of uncertainty and havoc. Something that was desperately needed nowadays.
Shiiiiing.
One, two, three. An easy rhythm, counting the times she dragged her needle’s edge over the whetstone to sharpen it. One, two, three.
Three was a cursed number here, where dreams broke minds and tore down dynasties.
Three noble mortals, revered in their own right, all laid down to sleep for a last-ditch plan that ended up being in vain.
Three gods at war, two of them lights that clashed with each other and the third nature incarnate. In the end, one of the lights won at the cost of the other.
Three siblings, all sired by the same god. They were the only ones that were still alive. One was small and silent, one large and trapped and screaming, and one a spider, sharpening her blade on a whetstone.
Shiiiiing.
One, two, three. Flip the blade. One, two three. Flip the blade. One, two, three.
Was the needle sharp enough? Would it ever be sharp enough?
Time and necessity suggested that it was sharp enough to fell the decaying bodies of the damned, those reincarnated from the dead minus what made them them in the first place.
No minds. No souls. Just a stumbling, rotten body, tripping over its own feet as it desperately tried to tear apart anything that moved.
Shiiiiing.
The spider cried, showing no signs of it save for a minute shaking of her shoulders, cloaked in red.
Red like blood, perhaps. But no one bled blood anymore. They couldn’t, not with the afflictions within their minds devouring them whole.
Shiiiiing.
The spider pushed down harder against the whetstone, uncaring of how it would make the blade uneven. She needed to get her rage out. It was so quiet. It was suffocating.
The silence roaring loud in her mind and her body, the spider shoved the blade against the whetstone, relishing the screech of metal against stone. It was awful and made her head hurt, but it was something where there was nothing before.
Exhaling softly, the spider flipped her blade. She would have to work a little longer to even it out again.
Shiiiiing.