My eyes open. The web still holds me upright, though I sag in its embrace, no longer suspended in perfect weightlessness. The sky has darkened to violet. How long…?

  “It should lighten soon.”

  Kora… what the fuck just happened to me?

  “I don’t know. You… left. Your soul was here and somehow gone at the same time. Where… where did you go?”

  Zara’s homeworld. I heard their song, and I… guess I sang? With them?

  “Did they hear you?”

  I got the distinct impression they did.

  “Mystery on top of mystery.” Kora seems to sigh. I get the feeling she wants to be panicking, that what is happening is so outside her vast experience that she wants to scream. Instead, she just sounds mildly confused and totally exhausted. “I am glad you’re back.”

  Likewise. Mostly. It was… beautiful. And strange. I feel like I learned something and nothing at the same time.

  I shift in the web. The soft click of Zara’s carapace breaks the silence. I can’t turn my head to look. Can’t really move much at all, in fact.

  “Hey, Zara? Are we done? Can you get me down?”

  “Yes, it is done,” she whispers.

  The sound of her voice sends a chill down my spine. There’s something… off about it. I feel it in my soul.

  “Uh, Zara? Not to be a downer, but that sounded kind of ominous, you know? Is something wrong?”

  “I have honored you the best I could. For the sacrifices you made for me, and the friendship you offered me.” She moves again. Dancing, from the sound of the earth shifting. It doesn’t sound graceful, this time. “I’ve offered you a shroud only woven for the most treasured Laranya Weavers, something none but a Laranya has ever received.”

  “What do you mean, ‘shroud?’”

  I crane my neck to look down at my body. Much of it is hidden in webbing, but pieces of intricate lace in exotic patterns peek out from minor gaps in the silk.

  Identification: The Death Shroud of Samantha Foreman (Unique Soulbound Artifact, Equipment)

  Only the most loved and valued Laranya, those who have made great contributions to the Weave or paid great service to the Mother, receive the care of a soulbound silken shroud. Crafted utilizing imbued and powerful tools and made up of legendary and unique materials, this object bears Spiritual Weight. It is of particular note that this unique object is tied directly to the soul of its intended recipient, and will cease to exist upon her death.

  Imbuement: Self-repairing, shielding, customizable. Crafted with a blend of Earth fashion and Laranya Weaving, this shroud bestows remarkable protections and benefits upon its wearer. When activated, this artifact will draw upon the wearer’s soul to protect her from all forms of physical and spiritual harm, so long as she has the soul energy to power it.

  “No…” Kora whispers, sounding as stunned as I am.

  “Zara, wait—”

  “You were a child that I could care for.” Her voice is stronger, shedding its doubt for conviction. “And now… now I don’t have to feel that way anymore. I’ve been shown a new path.”

  “Uh, what? What path is that?” I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “My reward for all this. The crafting, you… my reward… he’s going to bring them back. They will live again.”

  My skin goes cold.

  Achievement! “Keep your friends close…”

  You put your trust into a sentient of another species, and they subsequently stabbed you in the back! The last time someone betrayed a friend this hard, people talked shit about how much silver he got paid for it!

  Reward: Soul crushing fear, guilt, betrayal… and buyer’s remorse. And I guess something special if you survive.

  Addendum! The rules made me add that part, insect. To think, all I had to promise her was the impossible. A few vague words here, a bit of manufactured hope there… They say vengeance is best served cold, but I’m feeling quite warm and fuzzy right now.

  The impossible… Kora, is it possible to bring someone back from the dead? Even for the gods?

  “We have bigger problems than—”

  Kora, answer the fucking question.

  “It is possible, if their soul remains intact. Generally within seconds of their death, before their spirit dissipates. Perhaps a god could hold a soul intact for a longer period of time, but it would be a constant effort of will. Even the gods can’t easily break the sanctity of our souls.”

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  What if they’re absorbed?

  “Impossible, even for gods.”

  “Zara! Listen to me! He’s lying to you!” I thrash against the web, but all I manage to do is dislocate my shoulder. It snaps back into place with a sickening crunch, and my soul energy drains a few points. “I’ve seen it! I’ve seen what happens! I was with someone, too, when they took me!”

  “What?” I can’t see her face, but I can feel her waiting there, like a presence hovering just out of sight. “What are you talking about?”

  “A woman was with me, and it cut her practically in half! Your children are dead, Zara! He can’t bring them back, whatever bullshit he promised you!”

  “You’re wrong,” she hisses. “Wrong. He is a god. How could you possibly know?”

  “I get why you’re doing this,” I say, tears of frustration and rage squeezing out of my eyes. I try to calm the storm in my heart, try to get the words out clearly. “Of course I do. I would do anything to get the people I love back. Anything. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to go through what you have. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I’d let you kill me right now to bring your kids back, even one of them, if I thought it would work. But it isn’t possible.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam,” she whispers. “I know you would. And you will. I will tell my children tales of your courage, of your humanity, if I make it through this. I’m sorry.”

  “God damn it, Zara, listen. He’s playing you. He knows exactly what strings to fucking pluck.” I hesitate, even now, something in me not wanting to speak the truth out loud, even to save my own life. But it isn’t just about me. It is about the twisted asshole claiming divinity who is using a broken mother to murder me. It is about her, and her soul, and her very fucking existence. “I’ve thought this for a while, but I didn’t want to say anything. I really didn’t. Zara… why do you think you were level two when all this shit began? Why do you think you were the fastest to level?”

  “What does that have anything to…” she trails off, the implication of my words hitting home. “No…”

  “Yes.” My heart is a storm, my mind a burning fire, my heart a pounding stone. I hate the words as I say them, hate them for what they will do to Zara. But especially, I hate the uncaring motherfucker that did this to her, to us. “You took them, Zara. Your soul absorbed theirs. Part of them may live in you, but there’s nothing that can be done to bring them back.”

  The glade falls still. Fraught. Seconds before lightning. There is no breeze, no movement. I hold my breath. I wish I could see her, I wish I could hug her, or whatever would be the most comforting for her people.

  “You may be right.” Her voice is brittle, vulnerable. I don’t let myself hope. I know her mind is already made up. I don’t even blame her. “But I have to try. I have to.”

  “I understand,” I say, enunciating each syllable carefully. “And I forgive you.”

  “May we join chorus once again in another… in another life,” she whispers.

  And she’s gone. I know it in my soul.

  I sag in the embrace of the web. So she isn’t going to kill me herself. I was wondering if she’d honor her promise not to fight me until the end, the same promise Three and Burl offered. I guess this is some kind of honor loophole that every ‘good person’ finds to do what they know is wrong.

  “If it isn’t going to be her, then…”

  Yeah. Probably another Laranya. If they aren’t here yet, and I sure as hell can’t hear anything, then we might have a second to get out of this mess.

  A purple cylinder wavers into being around me, stretching into the lilac sky.

  “What is your plan?”

  We’re going to see how powerful these webs really are. I try to picture what I have in mind so that she can understand. Kind of a slingshotty situation, gravity up, gravity down, more and more until I tear free or we run out of room and hit the ground. I’d rather the former over the latter, of course.

  Strengthen Gravity.

  My insides squelch. The web groans as its center suddenly becomes much heavier. The silken strands stretch, trilling a distressed melody. They strain against my weight, strain, and strain… and hold. My back settles against the ground. A massive trembling tension vibrates through the web, discordant notes played on a perfect instrument. The trees groan, but the webbing itself merely… holds.

  Well, shit. What happens if I let go?

  “You probably wobble around like a fool in the middle of the air.”

  What if I reverse gravity and make it stronger going up?

  Kora doesn’t answer for a moment, though I can feel her thinking.

  “Pretty much one of two results. Either you tear yourself free, flinging your body into the air and perhaps leaving parts of you behind, or the webbing holds, crushing you against the ground when it snaps back. This is not wise.”

  That’s what I figured, but desperation calls for a second opinion.

  So. Do I let go? Will I fly off into the sunrise, or die an unceremonious death against the ground? How would repairing that particular trauma feel, if I have enough energy to survive?

  “I’m not entirely sure these are helpful thoughts right now, Competitor.”

  I know. But maybe, if I wait, whoever’s coming to kill me will go on the wild ride with me.

  “Or kill you before you get the chance to try it. Are we sure you can’t wiggle free?”

  I didn’t feel even an inch of give, even when my shoulder popped out of place. So…

  “I lack a better plan than yours, and we don’t have forever. There’s no better moment than this one. Good luck, Competitor.”

  You can call me Sam, you know.

  “I know.”

  Right. Thanks. Hold on to your butts.

  The power draining from my spirit flows into the Skill, pressing my back to the ground. I take a deep breath. All I have to do is let it go. Just… Elsa this shit.

  “Wait, please,” a soft voice says from right above me, scratchy like one of those ‘dangers of smoking’ ads. I flinch and almost release my power, but hold on by a thread. Its voice is refined, somehow. Polite. Instinctively I know it is speaking the Laranya language. Something in the cadence, the music. “I do not wish for your death to be without song.”