Chapter Text
Despite being brought here against her will, Hornet had to admit, Pharloom was a unique, new experience. A beautiful kingdom, lively and vivid, ensnared in a strange curse. Mysterious in its nature, intriguing. A gold mine of secrets waiting to be uncovered. And so Hornet did, uncovering them one by one, believing those secrets might assist her in her ultimate goal to free herself from the force that holds her from going back home.
She felt some familiarity in the threads that were guided down here from somewhere above, possibly from that gilded Citadel that pilgrims talk about. Hornet was yet to find out what force was guiding that silk and, most importantly, why the Citadel craved Hornet's own powers. The question has been unanswered yet, and it'd been a while since Hornet's arrival here: even though she was focused on making her way up and up, the beasts of this kingdom posed quite some challenge for her weakened shell and skills.
But slowly and persistently, Hornet managed to overcome those challenges one after another, and she knew there was more to come.
She scuttled away, avoiding an attack: a thrust of a longpin that would have definitely pierced her shell if she were to tarry. She dashed away, making distance between herself and her foe, waiting just a second for them to attack her again. Then she dodged, bounced off their longpin with force, throwing them off balance, dashing past them and landing a strike at their back before they could recollect.
The creature spun around, turning to face Hornet again, holding their mask to their face. Their attire swayed behind them, grey as the walls of this room; the room where they controlled this instrument, where they played their mournful melodies.
The exhaust organ, grand and impressive, stood in the middle of a lake of waste. The water just outside was infested with maggots, those that fed on silk. How strange it was to find such a magnificent instrument drowned in putrified liquid. The halls inside this instrument felt much more calm than the environment outside. Quiet, tentative greyness lined with old frayed webbing and drapes, felt so welcoming to Hornet after all she had to go through to reach this place.
Turned out this calm place was a home to a rather frantic fighter.
Phantom, was the name Hornet gave to her foe, for now. It felt oddly fitting. They were yet another challenge to overcome, yet another unique creature of this kingdom.
Their form was strange, their scent was different from any other bug she had encountered so far. More than that, this wasn't a wild mindless beast, it was a sentient bug. A creature capable of conversation. Hornet would really like to resolve this conflict verbally, and perhaps even gain a capable ally, as those had proven to be quite useful in battle so far, but she didn't have a choice but to fight, as Phantom attacked her as soon as she entered their room.
Perhaps, to some bugs you have to prove your worth in battle. That was what Hornet assumed at first. As she fought though, she realized: this creature, bitter and mournful, sought a different outcome.
Hornet barely managed to leap away from an attack. The shell of this creature looked frayed, old. Their voice, as they mocked Hornet mid-fight, was broken, pained and desperate.
They sought an end in a battle. Their suffering was clear to Hornet.
She would grant it, if only their unique nature didn't feel like a puzzle piece of a bigger picture. This was clear to Hornet as well, and she intended to trust her intuition. It felt like, should she let them die, she'd lose her chance to understand this kingdom better. She’d lose that one puzzle piece that would complete the picture.
…And Phantom was exhausted, Hornet could see it. The battle had taken a while, but Hornet was still able to keep going. And she was winning.
They parried Hornet's attack, and that's when she saw her chance. Before they had the time to recoil and prepare for an attack, Hornet grabbed their pin with her free hand and, holding the weapon firmly, kicked Phantom away. Their tired, quivering claws slipped off the longpin's handle, and they fell on the floor with a pained grunt. Hornet threw the pin away to the side, and it rang as it hit the metal floor, awkwardly bouncing off it a couple times.
And now her foe didn't have a weapon to defend themself with.
Phantom slumped over on the floor, trembling. Their shaking arms held them from falling on their face, as they gasped, trying to catch their breath. The longpin, a formidable weapon, lay quite a distance away from them. It didn't look like they would be able to reach it in their current condition: exhausted, shaking, injured. Even if they did, Hornet wouldn't mind continuing this battle.
But now she stood unmoving, stoic, watching her foe scrambling on the floor. Phantom looked tattered, much more tattered than when Hornet just found them here, playing their sad and threatening melody. Dregs of old greyed silk were hanging loosely from their elegant shell, ripped strands of silk were falling on the floor like ash, mixing with dust.
Hornet watched, as Phantom tried to sit up, but they struggled. They couldn't. Their limbs were too shaky, it looked as if their shell wasn't willing to hold them upright. But Hornet watched, not moving to help them nor to walk away.
"Hah..." Phantom rasped. "Hahaha-hah... how long do I have to wait, spider?"
But Hornet only watched in silence.
"Won't you grant me this wish?.. After this long of a battle?"
They didn't even raise their head as they spoke. Too weak, too exhausted. A swift end would be mercy for them right now, Hornet knew it. Yet, she held her needle back.
"Not until you grant me my wish, creature," Hornet said coldly.
Phantom wheezed a short laugh. Perhaps, they still had some strength left in them, because now they pulled themself up with a pained grunt, and sat, looking up at Hornet. She couldn't see their eyes behind the mask they held to their face, but the tilt of their head suggested that they were curious.
"A wish, spider? You came here to ask me for a wish? I would not think one of your kind would ever allow themself such bland requests."
Hornet responded with silence again.
"What would your wish be, then?" Phantom asked.
"Information," Hornet said curtly. "Answers. I believe you might understand this kingdom better than I do, creature."
"Is the spider so lost and confused that it comes here, in this rotten old instrument, in search of answers? Hilarious."
"Will you grant it to me?" Hornet urged.
"...Perhaps. To some extent, sure," Phantom shrugged, and that made them shudder in pain.
"Is there a way I can fix your shell?" Hornet asked.
"Would you share your precious silk, spider?"
Phantom stared at her from behind the mask. Hornet silently extended a hand to them. She didn't mind. Her reserves were full, it was an easy sacrifice if she was going to be given answers in return.
Phantom raised their shaky hand and held her claws with their own: thin, weak and shaking.
"Guide the silk yourself if you're capable; your shell looks unique and unfamiliar to me. I am unsure how to mend it," Hornet said, as she let her silk swirl free around them.
It was a risky decision: she was giving control over her own silk to a bug she didn’t know, to her foe. But Hornet could scarcely believe this quivering creature could do anything to her in their current state. Still, she watched Phantom closely.
Phantom fixed their mask and stiffened, as if gathering their strength, focusing. It looked like it took them some effort to do so. They clutched their mask with their free hand, pressing it tighter to their face. A few seconds passed, and the threads, now guided by another’s will, flew to Phantom’s injuries, stitching the ripped silk back together, wrapping around their shell, sinking into their original stitching, pulling the loose silk together.
Hornet watched cautiously as they healed themself. Her threads, newly stitched into the old fabric, looked so much brighter compared to their original... shell? Or was it some sort of protective silken attire?
Either way, their original silk must have been really old, which made Hornet wonder how ancient this creature was.
Soon, Hornet's silk reserves were running empty, yet Phantom didn't let go of her hand. They pulled her silk as it was regenerating, ravenously consuming every bit of thread, while Hornet watched them, silent, not interrupting just yet out of curiosity.
It was already obvious, but they were no regular mortal bug. A different kind of creature Hornet wasn't familiar with the nature of. This being seemed to be rather familiar with silk usage, they had some level of knowledge about healing with thread, although to Hornet it didn't seem like they were capable of doing so on their own. That made sense, they weren't a weaver to spin silk out of soul, but Hornet hadn't yet seen any creature knowledgeable of silk usage. She wanted to ask them so many questions… but she held back.
No, it didn't matter what kind of creature they were. What mattered was whether they're able to assist her with understanding of what kind of force brought her here, in this kingdom.
Hornet waited longer, patient as Phantom drew every last strand of her silk, until she got bored of it. She didn't push Phantom's hand away, but she began speaking.
"Do you require silk to keep your shell protected?" She asked, although the answer was obvious to her. She shifted her hand, slightly brushing her claws against theirs as if to hint that she wasn’t going to wait here all day for them to satisfy their needs. The movement made them shudder in pain, it seemed. The shell of their hand felt tender, unprotected. It must be very vulnerable with how soft it felt against her fingers.
"A being of my kind is doomed to a slow, painful death, if their silken shell begins unraveling," Phantom answered, looking up into Hornet's eyes with a slight playful glint to their expression that wasn't there before. "Your silk is a relief for my thin threads I have not felt in centuries, spider."
So, centuries. They must belong to some long living species.
"I cannot offer you so much to reweave your entire shell," Hornet warned.
"I do not expect you to."
Reluctantly, Phantom let go of Hornet's claws and tried to get up. They managed, even though their legs were still shaking, tired. Perhaps, it wasn’t only their shell giving in to injuries: the intense fight exhausted the bug.
They straightened their posture and gave Hornet a long, stoic look.
"So, what did you want to know?" Phantom asked.
Hornet was straightforward with her answer. "What has happened in this kingdom? Why does the Citadel crave my silk?"
Phantom paused, then let out a short laugh, stepping away from Hornet and picking up their weapon from the floor. Hornet tensed, expecting them to attack again, but they didn't turn back to her, instead walking away in the direction of the organ's keyboard, settling down on the bench elegantly. They fixed the mask on their face, ran their hand through the mess of darkened strands on their head. Only then Phantom turned to their uninvited guest.
Hornet didn't move this whole time, only watching them cautiously.
"Such a bold spider," they tilted their head somewhat playfully, smugly. "Impatient, also. Isn't it thrilling to learn it all on your own? Don't you want to find out when the time comes?"
"Are you not going to give me answers?" Hornet asked. There was a clear threat in her voice and posture, as Hornet readied her needle. But Phantom only laughed again, unbothered.
"Don't threaten me with a fight, spider, I'd welcome another duel. And no, I will answer, but not all of them, either due to my lack of knowledge, or if I don't wish to do so. Deal, spider?" They leaned back a little, propping themself on their arms.
Hornet didn't answer, glaring at the creature. Phantom waited patiently.
She thought. She could just say no, and leave them fray here, no matter how cruel that was. But perhaps answers to some of her questions would be better than no answers at all. She had nothing to lose, after all.
"...Deal," she nodded.
Phantom leaned on their pin a little, holding it like a cane, and shifted to the edge of the bench. They began speaking.
"What happened to this kingdom is something I am unable to share. This land has a long story, one you wouldn’t be able to fit into a dozen of scrolls. For better or worse, I was born after all important events, and then locked in here for centuries before the rest of important events, I believe. As you could probably guess, I do not have many guests here, nobody who would share stories and recent news with me."
"Locked?" Hornet frowned. The organ was accessible enough for her, safe for its awful surroundings. "You can't leave here?"
"Perhaps, I can; perhaps, I am not allowed," Phantom mused.
"Why? Who keeps you here?"
There was something that felt contradictory about their statement, to Hornet. Phantom watched her closely for a minute, then they let out a laugh, a mocking one.
"Well, well, spider, aren't those quite personal questions?” They teased. “I would like to spare you the details about my unfortunate situation. Either way, does it truly matter to you?"
Hornet narrowed her eyes. Right. She had to stay focused on her main goal. She was struggling to keep her curiosity under control with how unique this creature seemed.
So far, Hornet discovered that this kingdom was a home to many unique, amazing species that had adapted to a life among silk. Those live in it, feed on it, survive by it. Something she never could see in her homecaves. Frequently, she had to remind herself that there's a greater task she had to fulfill instead of getting distracted with such unimportant matters as observing local inhabitants and fauna.
"...What about the other question?" Hornet asked after a pause.
"Ah... your silk, right. Well, spider, what do you think? Try remembering what you saw on your way up here," Phantom hummed, clearly making fun of her. They regained their confidence quite fast. Hornet had to suppress a growl, instead only staring menacingly at them. Phantom either ignored her or didn’t notice. "Those threads, that web... those poor, poor bugs hopelessly tangled in it, those who you killed along your way, that silk you greedily drew from their pathetic husks. That must have been quite a bit of silk to keep those strands stretched far across the whole kingdom and make the pilgrims in the lowlands lose their minds."
"They brought me here to claim my powers." This was more of a statement than a question. "Are they lacking silk for their curse?"
"You can say that. See, you don't need my help to figure it out," Phantom hummed. “You pretty much guessed it on your own. Good job, spider.”
Hornet stared at them for a second, trying to suppress the rising irritation.
"Who are they, those who seek my strength?" she asked. “And those who pull the threads?”
"I am unable to answer that," Phantom hummed and looked away from Hornet, instead switching their attention to the longpin they kept in their lap. They held their thin claws against the shining brass of the weapon, careful and elegant.
"Why?" Hornet demanded.
"Persistent spider, I told you my reasons,” they sighed, now sounding slightly annoyed. “I either don't have the knowledge or I do not wish to speak about it."
"Fine," Hornet hissed. "Do you know a way to reach the Citadel?"
"You're lucky, the elevator over there would lead you up right into the heart of that shining Citadel!" Phantom nodded towards an entrance hidden in the shadows of the opposite corner of the room. "So convenient, isn't it?"
Hornet stared in the direction they pointed to. She couldn't see an elevator in the shadows, but there was a small corridor leading away from the room.
"...And how do I know that all you’ve said isn't a lie?" Hornet asked, side-eyeing them.
Phantom laughed, shaking. Their cracking voice echoed in the room, making Hornet flinch just a little at how sharp it sounded.
"Go and see for yourself, spider," they said. "Well, will there be more questions, or shall you grant me my wish?"
"There will be more questions," Hornet said coldly. "But perhaps not now. I will grant you your wish, a battle to death, whenever I reach my goal and slay the source of this power above us. When I free myself from its hunger. Until then, stay alive, Phantom."
Hornet turned away towards the corridor, without sparing them a last glance. She couldn't see their expression behind their mask.
They didn't say anything as she passed through the small hall.
Phantom wasn't lying, there was an elevator here. Hornet entered it, and it took off, went up, bringing her away from the exhaust organ, away from the cold, calm, ash-colored walls.
She exited the elevator as it stopped at the top of the shaft. The tunnel she entered now was much darker and humid. She went and went forward, passing through several tunnels broken with spiked crevices. So far this place didn't look like something that she would describe as a Gilded Citadel. The tunnels and corridors were carved in rock, lined with metal paths. Old gilding on the metal was partially scraped away by time, covered with dirt and dust now. Hornet could hear voices somewhere outside these tunnels, which suggested that the walls of these paths were rather thin. Voices, rumbling of machinery, scuttling of wild creatures sounded all around.
As she went, Hornet thought about her conversation with Phantom. They probably weren't happy having their wish ungranted just yet, but Hornet would still like to have them alive for now, in case she needs to know more. Nobody she met seemed to know or be willing to share what was going on in this kingdom, and having Phantom promise to assist her with it was quite fortunate. Even though it was a rather cruel deal Hornet made with them.
And… they didn't really answer all her questions, – to be accurate, the only clear answer they gave her was the one about the elevator. So with that in mind, she wasn't obliged to grant them their wish immediately.
Besides that, she had to admit, this creature was rare and intriguing. Hornet didn't think she saw a being like Phantom or anything similar to them in this kingdom yet (that could very well change after she entered the Citadel, since, according to the pilgrims, most of the civilization was there). It seemed like the species Phantom belonged to is able to live for centuries. While some species tend to have a long lifespan, they are usually rare, like Hornet’s own kin. And it seemed only creatures that had lived for centuries would know what really was going on in this kingdom.
Even though she knew she should focus on her main objective, perhaps Hornet could spare some time for a couple more visits to Phantom. Not necessarily in search for answers, but to perhaps learn more about their nature.
Meanwhile, the halls changed, and soon Hornet found herself at a bellway station. She was always glad to stumble upon one, since usually it had a spot suitable for a rest. And she had to admit, the presence of the bellbeast was comforting.
This bell station was massive and grand compared to any other one she had seen so far. Gilded elegant ornaments were covering the walls and floors, shining in the dim lights of the station. An ornate bench stood close to the edge of the platform, a big one, big enough that Hornet could lie down on it comfortably if she had to.
Drapes were lining the walls with soft shapes, bulbs with shining silkflies hung from the ceiling here and there. Massive shining bells were plentiful, filling every corner of the station, covered in dust and cobwebs, and mixed with dry corpses of bugs wrapped in old pale garbs made of clean, high quality silk. They all bore golden marks and symbols on their attires, some of them had a little bit of gilded armor.
This must be the Citadel, there was no doubt now.
She put a rosary string into the slot of the machine next to the closed station. The machine was quiet for a bit, then Hornet heard the sound of rosaries rolling somewhere deeper in it. Then, some mechanisms turned and strings played, and the massive brass and iron plates slid away below the platform, revealing the surface covered in countless bells of all possible shapes and sizes.
"Eira!" Hornet called, standing on the edge of the platform.
Her voice echoed in the massive room of the station. It rang in the bells, filling the space with a quiet buzz.
But then minutes passed and silence returned. Hornet frowned. Could the bellbeast not hear her from up here? Were they lost? Locked away from this place by some other toll deeper in the bellvein?
Hornet shifted nervously, staring at the bells. Could they-
But then, the bells rang again, the ground rumbled, and a massive creature emerged on the station, sending small bells flying in every direction, hitting the floor with a loud clattering noise. Hornet couldn't suppress a sigh of relief; she was glad Eira could reach here.
The bellbeast stomped on the ground, excited, and looked at Hornet expectantly. She jumped off the platform onto the bells and neared the beast. They chirped happily, galloped all their legs for a second on the same spot and as soon as Hornet was close enough, they pushed their muzzle into her embrace, almost making Hornet fall over. She laughed quietly, barely suppressed, petting their head. Eira closed their eyes and purred loudly.
"Couldn't find me up here, hm?" Hornet murmured gently, watching as they opened their eyes as soon as they heard her voice.
Eira let out a trill, as if answering her question. Hornet wasn't sure if they actually could understand her speech. While there was a possibility of that being the case, it also looked like they were just happy to make sounds whenever Hornet spoke to them.
Endearing creature.
She patted their head for a bit, then got up and turned to the exit from the station. Soft golden light was pooling onto the gilded floor from the doorway that led out somewhere. It was time to see what this Citadel hides in its heart. It was time to find out what kind of powerful force stretched those threads across the whole kingdom.
Hornet went to the exit from the bell station, looking around. While she expected to see bugs living here, so far it looked like this place was abandoned. It was eerily quiet. The layer of dust covering the floors, clinging to the cobwebs, and all the corpses scattered around suggested that this place must have been dead for a while now.
She passed a curtain of fraying silk, and her thoughts lingered on it, involuntarily making her think of Phantom again. This silk looked old, but Phantom's shell was older, perhaps; it lacked this pale glint to the strands.
Hornet paused, staring at the curtain a little longer.
Then she proceeded to walk out of the station.
She had some suspicions about what kind of force there is behind these threads.
She exited the station, and the view that opened in front of her made Hornet pause for a second and take in the grand architecture.
It was similar to how fine and ornate the bell station looked, but here it was dozens of times grander, impressive. The soft pale light that pooled down from somewhere above made the walls glint gently, not blindingly.
Hornet had to admit, the Citadel looked stunning. She never saw anything like it in her kingdom. Even the White Palace, whatever pictures of it still lingered in Hornet’s mind, didn’t look as magnificent as the Citadel.
It was merely a couple seconds that Hornet allowed herself to take in the view. Then a quiet sound returned her back to her usual cautious self. Hornet looked up in the direction where she thought she heard the noise, trying to see the source of it. She couldn’t see anyone, but she still held her needle ready to deflect an attack.
Then a high-pitched, familiar, annoying laugh rang in the tall hall, echoing in its silence, as Lace slipped off a hanging platform up above and landed on the floor some distance away from Hornet.
But Lace didn't attack her. She stood there, holding the pin in front of her, threatening, challenging, but not moving for an attack. Hornet didn't move, but didn’t lower her guard either.
Then, Lace spoke.
"What's this?" She tilted her head, watching Hornet judgementally, disapprovingly. "The little spider climbs so high, here to stand in our startling Citadel."
Hornet narrowed her eyes.
"You returned only to mock, child?" she hissed. "Neither you nor your land have proven my match. This sleeping Citadel will be no different."
Lace giggled. "Spider, dear. Why must you be so distressingly… optimistic?" Then, her voice became more serious. "You cannot conceive the power that waits above. Her, who would snuff that hope of yours with barely a glance."
Hornet blinked. The pieces of this puzzle began to fit together into a grander picture.
Maybe her suspicions weren't that far from the truth.
"Fool child." Hornet didn't have time to think much on this idea, but she had to take her chances. "You think I'm blind to the form of your liege? Your kingdom is in the thrall of a creature beyond bug."
Lace paused. She now looked somewhat surprised, startled.
So Hornet was right.
That was good, she wasn’t mentally prepared, if her assumptions happened to be incorrect. She wasn’t mentally prepared for Lace to make fun of her.
"Whatever its desire for my silk and shell, it shall find I'm quite attached to both," Hornet added, now more confident.
Lace paused, then hummed. Then let out a laugh, high-pitched and unnatural.
"Marvelous!" she exclaimed. "The spider knows something of fathomless beings. Makes me wonder, where did it learn that." Lace glanced past Hornet, at the bellstation entrance. Her expression was thoughtful.
Hornet instinctively wanted to look behind, but she forced herself not to. She knew that no one was there. She would feel another presence otherwise. Right now her senses told her that there was only Lace, distant quiet purring of the bellbeast, and the heavy feeling that was pressing on both Lace and Hornet from above.
Then, Lace giggled again, focusing her eyes on Hornet once again.
"And yet, the spider hopes to stand against a god..." she mused, her voice teasing. "Well, tell me then, where do you hide that boundless strength you claim? I've watched you struggle towards us. Yours was a painful, broken trek. One needs grace to stand before the divine," she giggled.
The bugs of this Citadel are so annoying, it seems. Lace's manner of speech slightly reminded Hornet of Phantom. They must have lived here at some point. That was an idea barely supported by anything other than the fact that the exhaust organ was connected to the Citadel, but it just felt correct. Hornet will have to ask them about it later.
Hornet frowned. She kept drawing parallels to Phantom. She should focus.
"Then keep watching, child," Hornet growled. "I've found those who claim themselves a god can rarely match the title."
Lace watched her in silence for a few seconds with a stoic, defensive expression on her face, then she leapt up onto the platforms above them and disappeared somewhere Hornet couldn't see from here.
She had half a mind to follow Lace, track her down, maybe she'd lead her right to the god itself. But then everything around rumbled and shook, her thoughts gave way to caution and slight panic. She looked around, bewildered. Old dust and rubble began falling on the floor from walls and ceilings while strong, powerful strands of pale shining silk shot from above, piercing the gilded floor, breaking through the stone and iron. A piercing scream shook the Citadel, and Hornet recognized it as one belonging to a higher being. She had heard a similar one before, long ago, back in her kingdom.
The old broken husks that were littering the ground stirred, and the dead bugs clad in white and golden rose to their feet, grabbing their gilded pins.
Hornet held her needle firmly, leaping into battle.
***
The performer had been playing a quiet melody, thoughtful and a bit melancholic. Come to think of it, their music tended to be that way most of the time. Somber, dreadful, mourning. Just like the performer themself, perhaps. They never cared enough to reflect on that parallel, though they had plenty of time for that. All the time in the world was theirs, endless, stagnant, unmoving; grey like their surroundings, ghostly, like themself. Yet, such contemplations didn’t feel worth it.
Dust and tiny silk dregs shivered on the keys of the instrument as the performer pressed them, coloring once pure white material in lifeless grey.
Grey was what they got used to seeing. Having it pierced with outrageous red was odd, unsettling and new. New enough that it was unceremoniously taking up all of the performer’s thoughts. No corner of their mind safe from the irritating red sparkles.
A Phantom, was what she – the spider – called them. Quite suiting, the performer thought. A Phantom. Phantom. They once had a name, one given by the Mother; one chosen by her carefully, for her precious child. She chose it, unknowing where fate would bring the child, unknowing of their flaws and imperfections. A name, a unique one, for her only pure child.
Well, that’s what it was at first. Later on, none of that was the case, the name was never spoken aloud by Mother, by sister, forgotten and dead for everyone else.
Forgotten by the performer themself.
So they didn’t mind Phantom if the spider had to call them that. Whatever their original name was, it wouldn’t befit them anymore.
And Phantom continued playing their somber motif. The thoughtful tune rang gently through the exhaust organ’s halls; sound bounced off walls in the usual manner, one they have been listening to for ages. Centuries and centuries of the same sound, of the same echo, of the same ringing. The sound flowed through pipes, through halls, through the caves around.
It was such a rare occasion when the sound bounced off surfaces oddly, disturbed by another’s presence. Presence was so rare, it was overwhelming now when Phantom felt the slight distortion for the second time within one day.
They didn’t turn to look back at the visitor. Too much effort, too little care. Although, this presence wasn’t as sharp as the one before, not as irritating, not shining with this awful red in the corner of their eye. This one was soft, comfortable, soothing.
“Sister,” Phantom said, as their fingers didn’t stop dancing on the keys, didn’t pause the melody.
“Hmm, sibling,” followed an ever so lively, teasing and playful response.
Lace didn’t need any special invitation to join Phantom near the organ’s console. She didn’t sit on the bench, didn’t break into Phantom’s personal space; instead, she stood a bit away, slightly leaned against a wall once ornate and gilded, now grey and old, covered in a layer of dust. She stood just close enough so that Phantom wouldn’t have to turn their head to look at her. Her delicate, precious form was so purely white against the old grey walls, Phantom almost wanted to tell her not to stand against those, just so they wouldn’t ruin her silken shell, one Phantom used to have too long ago to remember it.
Lace didn’t speak, and Phantom continued playing their melody. It was a composition that they remember playing frequently, but not lately. Maybe last time it was centuries ago, but they weren’t sure. What was a century passed, when time felt absent within these grey halls.
Vibrant red still sparkled through their thoughts. Phantom could distract themself from it, now that their dear sister decided to visit, but there was something addicting about the vibrant color in this monochrome world. Phantom couldn’t help but dwell on it.
“Well, well, sibling, I’ve heard whispers that one peculiar spider has visited you,” after a couple long minutes of silence, Lace spoke. “Are the whispers true?”
Phantom hummed.
“Whispers, you say?” They responded with a question in a mysterious, yet obviously playful tone. “Makes me wonder, who produced those whispers? Could it be you?”
Lace giggled, and her laugh sounded so lively, so colorful. A sound so rare to roll across these halls, Phantom almost forgot it.
“I see, I see,” Phantom nodded, not waiting for an answer. “Well, fortunate for you, your whispers are true. The spider that passed this old instrument just recently was quite peculiar. How come you know of it?”
“Ah, well, I saw it show up in our Citadel, so tattered and pathetic,” Lace hummed. “What an insult to enter such a holy place like that.”
“It sure stains any environment with its presence,” Phantom agreed. They were not going to call the Citadel holy, not anymore; but they didn’t dare argue, not with their sister. They would indulge in the conversation, they would let her believe and hope, and pray, and trust, even knowing that it all will be shattered sooner or later. There was no reason to shatter it now.
Lace went quiet meanwhile, swaying her pin slowly in front of her, in rhythm with the music. She began humming, and Phantom felt a little bit more warm, a little bit less lonely – another odd feeling that was destined to be forgotten.
After a pause, Lace ceased her humming and began speaking.
“So what happened? How come she walked out of here alive, and left you alive as well? Having seen the beast enter the Citadel, I didn’t expect to hear music as I walked into your domain. I’d think a weaver wouldn’t know mercy.”
Phantom hit a chord, and another melody rolled out from under their claws, filling the halls with a different tune, but still about as soft and somber as the previous one. Perhaps, even more soft, even more sorrowful.
“You are correct, the beast knew no mercy, as instead of granting me my wish she made me promise her a wish in return,” they said thoughtfully. “Don’t trust that spider, Lace. She’ll make you dance along to her songs before you realize it.”
As if they both weren't already dancing to another's music for centuries now, caught in this invisible, harmless looking web, tangled so thoroughly that there was never hope to break free, not for Phantom, not for Lace. Getting tangled in a different web didn't feel as dreadful.
What another dozen threads wrapped around their insignificant heart would do to them? Phantom saw no difference.
“Fair warning,” Lace nodded. “So… your wish?”
“A beetle to death.”
“Ah, right. And she declined it?”
“Not quite. She promised me another duel in return for information.”
Lace paused. Then, she giggled. Then, her laugh rang loud across the room, the halls, the instrument.
“So the spider is so hopelessly lost and confused, that it asks you for aid?” Lace's voice sounded delighted. “What a comedy! Ah, how I'd love to hear this story in full when it ends. I've observed each step of that spider's ascent; I must say, it was almost painful to watch such a display of her lack of grace and strength. Such a struggle.”
Phantom hummed in response, amused.
“Anyway, so was it you who told her of our Mother?” Lace asked.
That made Phantom actually turn their head to her.
“I didn’t,” they said, surprised. “She did ask, but I refused to speak of the Mother.”
“Mm, then she must have figured it out herself,” Lace mused. Then, her voice became more serious, the previous glee disappeared. “I was sure she got it from you. I wanted to continue watching her struggles, but I was dying to know what happened to you. I know this outcome isn’t something you desired… but I’m glad to see you alive, sibling.”
They didn’t answer and were quiet for a while. Her words warmed them and hurt them at the same time. So many things they regretted, craved, dreamed of. None of them can happen, so they better not dwell on those.
Lace didn’t continue talking, didn’t change the topic, so perhaps that task was up to them.
“So you intend to continue watching the spider?” Phantom asked.
“So I do,” Lace nodded. “This spider, pathetic as she is, has proven to be uniquely sneaky; I believe it’s important to watch her as long as she doesn’t possess the means to enter the sacred Cradle. Only then I'm going to head up, back to Mother's side. I will not let her even see the divine.”
“Do you think she’s capable of doing something to Mother, if she even could go that far?” Phantom was mildly surprised.
Lace was quiet for just three seconds. Longer, three seconds longer than usual.
“Who knows!” she giggled nervously. “It would be a crime to leave her scuttling around the places she’s unworthy to set her foot on.”
Phantom hummed in acknowledgement.
“Stay safe then, please,” they murmured quietly, and their voice almost drowned in the melody they played.
“I will, my dear sibling,” she giggled, lively yet again. “You think some spider could defeat me? I fear I might skewer the poor thing before she would grant you your wish, though.”
“If that's the case, she is unworthy of my release. But even so… stay safe, sister. For me.”
They weren’t looking directly at Lace, but they could see out of the corner of their eye: she stared at them silently, thoughtfully. Her hand that was swaying the pin to the music a second before, now went still. The silence that hung in the dusty air felt sad, anxious, lonely.
“...You know, after it’s all over, it would be fun to go somewhere together, wouldn’t it?” Lace asked.
She’s so innocent, so unserious. Naive, if she actually believed in her sentiment (cruel, if she didn’t). She was playing games, silly games that she mistook her life for. It’s for the better, Phantom kept saying to themself. There was no point in ruining her fun while she could enjoy whatever bits of life experience she still had accessible.
Phantom hadn't seen her as lively as she was today in a long time; probably, as long as the Citadel had been sleeping. Now it had awakened, stirred by a colorful presence of the uninvited guest. They had to admit, it was exciting. Perhaps, it was as exciting for Lace: finally, something out of the ordinary. Something different from her constant patrols through the silent unmoving halls. Finally, life, even if resurrected in a twisted way. This red was probably as rare of a color for the Citadel as it was for this old organ.
The only fear, the only joy, was that this occurrence might bring change. Nothing good for Phantom, nor for Lace, nor for the kingdom; but still a change.
“...Yes,” Phantom said, dragging themself out of their thoughts. “We could hang out after all this is over.”
“Good!” Lace nodded, and Phantom didn’t miss the little sigh of relief she let out. “Well, I’ll seek out the little nuisance and make sure she gets lost. See you around, sibling!”
“See you, Lace,” Phantom echoed.
Lace stepped away from the wall and went for the exit, skipping and twirling to the music, humming it quietly as she went. Her voice slowly disappeared, getting drowned out by the sound the exhaust organ produced. Phantom wanted to stop playing so they could hear her hum for a second longer, but they couldn’t bring themself to take their hands off the keyboard. Their fingers danced, pressing keys without any mistake, the notes and chords they didn’t even need to remember – their claws knew how to play this melody even better than they did. Note after note, accompanied by gentle chords, the massive instrument pushed the air through the pipes, producing sound that formed into a sad melody. The melody that Lace left them with.
Minutes passed. Lace was gone, her presence didn’t interfere with sound flowing through the halls. Yet again empty and lifeless halls; they craved the familiar soft presence. The composition was reaching its end, and the sound slowly dissipated into the air a minute after Phantom let go of the keys. The echo of the last chord rang in the halls in a ghostly, ephemeral way. Quiet and gentle.
Phantom sat back on their bench and sighed, their hands fell on their lap limply. They took off their mask, exposing the vulnerable threads to the dry air. It wasn’t painful; in a way, it was even relieving, freeing. As if they finally could breath in fresh air, even though the air in this room was really difficult to call fresh.
Phantom ran their fingers through the tangled mess of threads on their head.
This spider worried them. Their sister’s words worried them. The future worried them. Worry. An emotion that hasn’t stirred them in a long time.