They wanted to be stone, eternal guardians. They wanted a symbol to inspire them all. Aethyria didn’t want to live without Graeca. I granted my sisters’s wishes along with my princess’s. Were they grateful?
No, they drove me out of the land we guarded, the land named for our princess. They accused me of being less than undead, a monster who preyed upon the living. They said I’d made a pact with the Spider, the Owl’s accursed rival, far worse than any Serpent or Unicorn.
True, I cannot deny any of this was true. Who were they to stand in judgment upon me? They’d been women, the same as me; warriors, weavers, scholars, hunters, poets, and healers. We all gave up our humanity for immortality. A life sealed in stone, watching over future generations in Aethyria wasn’t enough for me.
I traveled north, to a land where the Serpent once walked and the Spider hid. I formed a Dark Circle between Rowenda, Aethyria, and Graeca. Each land was named for a spoiled little hero, doomed to hang from my web, feeding my hunger.
I’ve lost track of the number of heroes I’ve feasted upon. They came to me in packs, known as adventurers. They sought the treasures I’d taken from fallen heroes and princesses. Every once in a while, I’d let one go to tell the tale, to show off the riches he’d won in the Dark Circle. It encouraged more adventurers to brave my web.
Now adventuring is reviled as wicked along with winning treasure by killing monsters. I grow hungrier and hungrier as a result. I have to be more subtle to draw my prey to me, letting my strands reach out far north, to cause Trouble at Caerac Keep.
If my servants serve me as well as they should, I should feast as never before on the choicest victims. Alas, good servants are difficult to come by, especially in that wretched walled city far north of here.
All the while, I grow hungrier.
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