Shadow Slave

"Ananke greets the Children of Weaver..."

The word hung in the air. Sunny and Nephis glanced at each other warily, both confused by this strange situation. Why was the old woman prostrating in front of them? Why had she addressed them as children of Weaver?

'What is going on?'

Sunny was tired out of his mind, and the inexplicable nature of the strange old woman was simply too much for him to process. She didn't seem hostile, at least. With a sigh, he allowed his exhausted body to collapse and sat down on the wooden deck of the ketch. Nephis, meanwhile, hesitated for a few moments, then took several steps forward and carefully pulled the old woman up.

"Please rise, Grandmother. Do not bow on our account."

The owner of the ketch - Ananke - allowed herself to be gently pulled into a sitting position. Then, Nephis returned to Sunny and sat side by side with him. The two of them were now facing the old woman, waiting for her to say something. But she remained silent.

After a few moments passed, Sunny frowned. He felt nervous... there was no telling just how powerful this woman was, and what her intentions were. Ananke was a complete mystery.

...She could also provide answers to many mysteries that had plagued him. So, he asked:

"I am sorry, Grandmother... but why did you call us the Children of Weaver?"

There were many questions he wanted to ask, but this one was the most pressing - its answer could explain how Old Ananke would treat them.

The old woman took a deep sigh, then spoke in her thin, creaky voice:

"Because you are the Chosen of the Nightmare Spell. You are... a miracle. Your existence is Weaver's triumph."

appeared on his lips. It was warm and almost... motherly. As

deep breath, feeling

all but certain that the Nightmare Spell had been created by the Demon of Fate. Now, the last, tiny sliver of

Spell. She was also, most likely, one of the people they had wanted to find - a native inhabitant of the Great River. One of the

to the Great

not

his thoughts, Nephis leaned forward and asked as politely

me for asking, but who

smiled. What she said next made

The Priestess of the Nightmare

silence that followed, the old

At the beginning, which was also the end, when the Nightmare Spell was still in its infancy, there was a need for people like me to tend to it, protect

somber, and a heavy sigh escaped from

wasn't easy... wasn't easy at all. After all, we, the followers of a daemon, were deemed heretics and persecuted by servants of the gods. All were despised, many were hunted down and put to death. Well... not that I experienced any

old woman spoke was a revelation, and they followed one after another. There were so many startling pieces of information she was sharing freely with them that Sunny found himself unable to digest it all. He felt like a person who was drowning in

daemons and the gods... wait, the Spell was not created

Nephis was struggling, too, but it seemed as though she had a slightly better grasp

the suffering of the followers of Weaver was not meaningless? That the Nightmare Spell

nodded and looked at them with reverence, which made both

You are very wise,

for a few moments,

by the fact that we come from the

focus. It was a very poignant question, and one that