A BLANKET OF WEBBING WOVE itself over the god’s estate, suffocating the screams that emanated from the mountain-top castle. Lifeless bodies were frozen as they had died, some running, some cowering. The countless spiders who had already cloaked the outside with their dark work now determinedly invaded the inside.

The insects’ funerary cloth extended to every bit of the mansion; the winding hallways with their centuries-old artwork, the rooms that held revered artifacts, and the elegantly designed bedrooms all found themselves swallowed by the white spider silk. They took their time consuming the once grand estate, seeming to enjoy the splendor. Their movements were uniform, as though they were an army being led by some unseen general. The fine threads, their weaponry, glimmered across the corpses like freshly fallen snow.

Through the mansion’s labyrinth of hallways, a servant boy in his early teens ran for his life. He wore only his sleeping clothes, and the webbing grasped at his bare feet with each step. Staggering into the estate’s training room, he saw that his only option was to grab a wooden sword; others likely took the more threatening weapons before his arrival.

He wasn’t sure what he could do with a simple wooden practice weapon, but his eyes held the determination of any warrior as he weaved through the halls, even as his hand on the hilt trembled. He dodged the bodies of soldiers and his fellow servants, refusing to look at any of them. The boy heard skittering on the walls and floor around him and, out of the corners of his eyes, he could see small shapes with elongated legs dancing masterfully over the web. His foot stepped on one and he felt the guts squish against his bare feet. Bile rose in his throat, but he stumbled on.

He turned down one hallway and saw an older woman screaming as she swatted at the uncountable swarm of spiders that crawled up her body. She turned to him and sobbed. Whatever she might have said was lost, for the insects invaded her mouth as soon as she opened it. She took a few staggering steps towards him, and instinctively, he stepped back.

While her body froze, the boy whispered a silent prayer. He had never thought he would watch his aunt die. Not like this. The web crawled up to claim her paralyzed body, and the spiders cascaded down—and began the quick race towards him. He pushed aside the memories of her that had briefly taken hold of him. There was no time to mourn. Instead, he spun around and kept running.

As he ran down another hallway, a door in front of him burst open. The head samurai, his face half-shaved with shaving cream still on his chin, staggered out. The boy couldn’t help but stop; he had never seen this proud captain with such a look of absolute fear on his face. The man didn’t notice him. Instead, his hands reached out for something — anything — to save him from whatever was inside the room.

“A Child of Stardust! Hurry, sound the alarms! Help-!”

His words were cut off as the boy watched the white webbing slither out of the room and wrap around his throat, dragging him back inside. His fingers grasped futilely at the edges of the door, but the door suddenly slammed shut—and the boy watched the man’s severed fingers fall to the white floor.

The boy could feel tears running down his cheeks; he wasn’t sure when he had started crying. He just knew that he had to keep going. Above all else, he had a duty to protect the deity of the estate. No one else could distract from that priority.  There was no question of who was more important to save.

So the boy kept running, ignoring the sound of silken threads snaking about as they claimed more victims. Though his lungs ached, he kept moving. He only stopped when he had reached the side door of the meeting hall. This part of the estate had become silent. His breaths were deep and ragged, but they were not loud enough to overshadow the quiet sound of talking coming from the inside of the room.

He froze immediately. It had been burned into his skull to never interrupt the god when he was with someone. Even now, the fear of punishment for that disobedience kept him from bursting inside. His fingers shook as he brought them to the edge of the door frame. He did not open the door, but pressed his ear against it.

“It’s been some time, Lord Yamamoto. You’ve lived a long life, even by a god’s standard. I would have thought that your children would have succeeded you by now. Though when we met, you were practically a child yourself.”

It was a feminine voice, gentle and polite. It was unfamiliar and it made the hairs on the boy’s arms stand on end. He couldn’t help the feeling that the spiders that had not yet reached this part of the mansion were now crawling towards his ears.

"My father may have been the one to fight you, but I’ve had hundreds of years to grow my power. I don't know what game you're playing, Masamune, but do not think your breed's tricks will work on anyone now!” Lord Yamamoto boomed, his voice like a sudden explosion amidst quiet chimes, and his words echoing through the space as strong and unrelenting as the stones he governed.

“Breed? Well, I am glad to know that you remember us so fondly. Is that why you were seeking the Wayfinder’s Compass? If you missed me that badly, all you had to do was wake me-”

“You know why I want the compass. Weapons masquerading as people will not intimidate me-”

A whipping sound came from within the room. Then there was only silence. In the eerie peace, the boy felt his body go numb. Lord Yamamoto’s words had been cut off. The boy wouldn’t let himself consider what that might mean. He tugged the door open, daring to peek inside.

The main doors to the meeting hall opened at the same time. A pale woman in a teal and purple dress, her black hair tumbling over her shoulders and her mint green eyes staring dutifully ahead, entered. Her large black animal ears twitched at the silence, while a thick and fluffy tail stayed tight against her backside. Here, too, the spider web had covered the room and hidden the splendor that once existed there. Only the lanterns flickered with dying flames.

At the very back of the room, on a raised platform, stood Lord Yamamoto’s corpse. It was still posed for an attack, his sword outstretched in frozen hands. In front of him stood another woman who appeared completely unbothered by his attempt at an attack; her casual stance made it seem like she was still in silent conversation with the frozen deity.

She was a tall, slender, and dark-skinned woman who wore a beautiful kimono that shimmered in different shades of purple. Her fine violet hair had been drawn up into an intricate sort of bun set in place by a pin with a black and pink spider-like symbol. Pink bangs framed her face, matching the color of the pin.

The black-haired woman bowed. “We found his information regarding the compass, my lady. Its location was the site of one of the Wanderer’s last battles, just as we had guessed. I've gathered Aster, Nuwa, and Clementine. We will head out once you give the word.”

She received a single nod in response and started to leave the room, but paused to tilt her head backward. She seemed to glance back at something, but the boy could not tell what. It was brief, and soon the green-eyed woman disappeared and closed the door behind her.

Back in the meeting hall, the elegant woman stepped towards the covered form of Lord Yamamoto. Her face held a subdued smile, but there was something in her glassy silver eyes that was terrifying to behold.

“Thank you for finding the Wayfinder’s Compass for me. But know this, while the Children of Stardust might be weapons, I…”

She paused, and her head turned to look his way–to look, he realized, right at the door he was peeking out from behind. Had she truly seen him, despite his silence? She did not approach, but raised a single hand up, revealing the webbing extending from her fingertips in thin strands which connected to the threads all around her. He felt cold as her gaze never wavered from his spot.

The boy took a few deep breaths. He knew that it had to be now. Whoever this woman was, she had taken down the God of Stone. Who was he to challenge such a force? But who was he if he did not? She had claimed Lord Yamamoto’s life. Even if he was destroyed…. Even if he became little more than a fly upon her web, he knew he had to fight. His hand went to the wooden sword at his side. His thumb brushed against the rough wooden shaft as he pulled the weapon out for the decisive battle.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that?” A voice mused from behind him.

The boy turned and barely caught sight of the green-eyed lady. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His hand twitched and, in that moment, his sword was hacked into shards by wires that had wound around every part of his form. The sound of the wooden pieces hitting the white floor echoed within his spinning head. Laughter from the main room chilled him and his tear-filled eyes trailed over to look through the door, still ajar.

In the main room, the silver-eyed woman’s smile grew wider.  She stepped forward one more time and chuckled. Eight glowing purple spider's eyes blinked to life around her body.

“I will be a wielder.”

She wrenched her fingers into a fist toward her chest and crushed the God’s body with a sickening crunch. The blood from the body trickled down the pristine snow of webbing toward the woman. The sounds of thousands of spiders approaching covered the last strangled gasp the boy could give before his world became silken white.