The old woman led them into her creaking home, bolting the door behind her with trembling hands. She spoke in hushed tones, barely louder than a breath.
"Every blood moon," she said, "a monster crawls from the wells… taking those who wander at night."
Arinn's voice was small. "What kind of monster?"
Her eyes darkened like stormclouds. "A woman… with six arms, each ending in claws sharper than knives. Her mouth stretches too wide… and when she whispers your name, you disappear."
Rey's jaw tightened. "And no one's fought it?"
The woman shook her head slowly. "Many tried. None returned."
Then—a loud creak echoed from outside.
The woman froze. Rhys's axe was already in his hands.
"Something's out there," he said lowly.
The air grew thick—oppressive. The shadows in the corners seemed to stretch and breathe.
Then, a whisper—like silk over glass:
"Rey… Arinn…"
The door shattered, exploding into splinters.
She stepped inside.
The Red Widow.
A towering, slithering figure. Six arms curled unnaturally, twitching like spider legs. Her mouth stretched impossibly wide, a jagged grin splitting her face. Her eyes gleamed with hunger.
Then—she lunged.
Rey barely dodged as claws scythed through the air, carving deep furrows into the wooden floor.
Rhys melted into the shadows. "We kill it fast—or we don't kill it at all."
Arinn stumbled back, dagger shaking in his grip. "How do we fight something that can whisper us out of existence?!"
Rey's eyes flared. "We don't let her speak."
He charged, swinging his sword toward her neck—
But her six arms moved like lightning. Three caught his blade mid-swing.
She smiled.
"Little knight…" she hissed. "I see your dreams… your fears…"
A wave of voices crashed into Rey's mind—his mother's screams, his father's last breath, the weight of failure.
His knees buckled.
But he gritted his teeth, eyes blazing. "Nice try."
With a roar, he forced her voice from his mind, twisting his sword and slicing through three of her arms in one brutal arc.
The Red Widow shrieked, reeling back.
Rhys struck next—his axe smashed into her face, driving deep into one of her many eyes.
She howled. Twisted. But she wasn't done.
With a feral snarl, she spun—and lunged for Arinn.
"ARINN, MOVE!"
Too late.
Her claws were inches from his throat—
Then, a flash of silver.
A second sword cleaved the air.
"You two can't even protect a Child, what a waste"
In a single, clean motion, the Red Widow's head was sliced from her shoulders.
She let out a final, bone-chilling scream as her body disintegrated into black mist.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Arinn gasped, staring at the figure who now stood between them and the mist.
A warrior, tall and poised, lowered his sword. He dropped his hood, revealing sharp features, storm-dark hair, and piercing blue eyes that burned with purpose.
"My name is Alastor Glenwood," the stranger said.
His voice was calm. Controlled.
"And you're walking straight into a war."