Page 24 of The Unseelie War
All of that was inhimnow.
The monster roared.
“Clever. And unfortunate.” Serrik was standing beside her, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “It is feeding on you both, now.”
“Then how does she stop it?” Bitty asked, hovering near the entrance, clearly wanting to help but not knowing how.
“She cannot.” Serrik sighed, rolling his shoulders back, audibly cracking them. “I must.”
Before Ava could ask what he meant, Serrik was already changing.
She'd seen his true form before, if not for long. And even then, it was only in a dream. But watching the transformation happen in physical reality was something else entirely. His elegant human shape dissolved like mist, replaced by something that belonged in nightmares—and yet she couldn’t deny she found it undeniably beautiful in its own terrible way.
His torso remained humanoid, though his skin took on that chitinous sheen she remembered. His face retained its features, but his golden eyes multiplied until there were eight of them, arranged in an arc across his forehead. His green hair became wilder, longer, draping down his back in waves.
But it was the transformation below the waist that took her breath away. Where legs should be, his body transitioned into the form of a massive spider, covered in dark green and black fur that seemed to absorb light. Golden, jagged patterns decorated his back, almost mimicking the First Language tattoos that marked his humanoid skin.
Seven enormous jointed legs extended from his spider body, raising him up until he towered over them all. The golden stumpwhere the eighth leg should have been gleamed in the strange light of the opera house.
The tips of each leg from the last joint down were cast of solid gold and etched with more of that mysterious First Language. Golden threads dripped from the joints of his inhuman limbs like liquid sunlight. The dangerously sharp, almost needle-like tips tapped on the mirrored floors as he moved.
And from him poured forth the sheer aura ofterrorthat she had felt in the dream, only so much more magnifying now that he was a nightmare made real.
He was horrifying. He was magnificent. He was everything the stories had said and more.
And the shadowy creature that was tormenting Lysander took one look at him and tried to run.
“No.” Serrik’s voice was deeper and more resonant in his true form, carrying harmonics that made the crystal columns ring. “You do not escape so easily.”
He moved with a speed and grace that defied his size. He leapt forward, landing in front of the creature in a split second, blocking its exit. He reared up to his full height, sending the monster scrabbling backwards in a panic. But Serrik was faster. His seven legs carried him across the mirrored floor in a dance that was both hypnotic and deadly. Golden threads shot from his fingers, not binding the creature but slicing through it like razors, cutting away the fear and doubt that gave it substance.
The creature fought back, lashing out with appendages of crystallized anxiety and self-loathing. But Serrik was two thousand years old, and he had spent most of that time learning to destroy things that shouldn't exist.
“You are doubt given form,” he said as his threads carved through the creature's essence. “But in this form, you can be harmed. Return to the un-reality in which you should remain, creature.”
With a sound like breaking glass, the creature began to dissolve. Not destroyed, exactly, but returned to the realm of abstract emotionwhere it belonged. Its dying wail echoed through the opera house before fading to nothing.
Serrik turned toward Lysander, who had stopped flickering and was now staring at the spider form with a mixture of awe and pure fear.
Serrik’s expression was cold. He turned from the cat-like fae, many legs tapping on the ground. “You are safe now. The manifestation of your doubt is gone.”
“B-but the doubt itself isn’t,” Lysander whispered. His form was still translucent, wavering like heat haze. “I-I can feel myself still…slipping. Like I'm losing coherence. What if I just…fade away? Shouldn’t I? I don’t—I don’t belong, I shouldn’t exist?—”
Ava approached slowly, her heart breaking at the naked pain and suffering in his voice. “Lysander…”
“I don't even know if I want to exist,” he continued, his voice shifting again, becoming that of a stranger. “Ava made me because she needed a guide, a friend, someone to help her navigate Tir n’Aill. But she doesn't need that anymore. She's the Weaver now. She's powerful beyond imagination. What purpose do I serve?”
He was talking like she wasn’t eventhere.Like he didn’t recognize her.
Her heart shattered in her chest.
He flickered again, becoming fully translucent for a moment before solidifying. “Maybe it would be better if I just…stopped.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than Ava had intended. She knelt down beside him, though she was careful not to touch him while he was so unstable. “Lysander, look at me.”
He raised his head, and she could see tears in his amber eyes. Real tears, from a being who was questioning the reality of his own existence.
“I—I can fix this.” She thought she could, anyway. It was a guess. But all of this reality was her doing, right? She could just grab it and rearrange it, couldn’t she? Right? “I can stabilize you, strengthen the bonds that hold you together. But…” She hesitated, knowing she had tobe honest. “But I don’t know what I’mdoing.I’m still really new at this. I’m making this up as I go. There’s a good chance I fuck this up. The other option is I…”
