Then I face-plant straight into something invisible.
Only it’s not invisible. It’s a web. A web strong enough and large enough to stop a full-grown human.
“What the hell—” I twist, trying to pull free, but that’s a mistake.
The movement only makes things worse. Thick, impossibly strong strands wrap around my wrists, my torso, my thighs, tightening with every struggle like they’re alive. The package tumbles from my grip, landing in the gravel with a soft thud.
This isn’t possible. No spider makes webs like this.
No normal spider, anyway.
The thought has barely formed when my father’s warnings echo in my head—all those hushed stories about the people who’ve vanished from this mountain without a single track left behind. Gone, as if the forest itself had simply swallowed them whole.
My blood freezes. Is this how it happened? Did they walk into a trap just like this one, spun for prey much larger than a moth? Have I just stumbled into the lair of what everyone has been so afraid of?
The thought of screaming crosses my mind, but who would even hear me? Who, besides my captor?
Maybe I should act normal. Maybe panicking will activate whatever predator instincts this Riven guy might have.
“Hello?” I call out, trying to keep my voice professional despite being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Package delivery! I could use a little help!”
Almost instantly, the massive door swings open silently, revealing darkness beyond. Then comes a sound straight out of my deepest nightmares: the distinct clicking of multiple heavy limbs moving across stone.
My throat closes up. I go completely still, the way prey animals do when they sense a predator. The clicking grows louder, a methodical, unhurried rhythm that suggests whatever’s making it knows I’m not going anywhere.
A colossal silhouette detaches itself from the shadows of the doorway, and for a moment, my brain refuses to process the creature I’m seeing.
The top half almost makes sense: a humanoid torso with broad shoulders and powerful arms. But below that… My mind stutters, trying to categorize the impossible.
Eight long, segmented legs flow in perfect synchronization, each step deliberate and calculated as they propel the towering dark figure toward me with terrifying elegance.
I blink hard, convinced I’m hallucinating. But when I open my eyes, he’s still there. Closer now.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, the words barely audible even to myself.
He steps fully into the fading light, and I get my first clear look at him. His upper body is covered in black chitinous plates that gleam like polished armor. His face—if you can call it that—has no nose, no lips… Just mandibles that click softly as he studies me.
And his eyes… Six golden eyes are arranged in a pattern across what should be a face, all fixed directly on me with unnerving focus.
He’s sleek and beautiful in the most terrifying way possible, like a perfectly engineered killing machine that evolution spent millions of years perfecting.
“Fascinating,” he says, and his voice is nothing like I expected, deep and resonant but with a dry, almost contemplative tone. “You’re caught rather thoroughly.”
I try to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled sound somewhere between a whimper and a laugh.
He tilts his head, the gesture oddly human despite everything else about him being decidedly not. “Are you having difficulty breathing? The silk shouldn’t be constricting your lungs.”
“Spider,” I finally manage, my voice pitched higher than normal. “You’re a giant spider.”
“Vyder, actually,” he corrects, circling me with deliberate steps. “The distinction is important, taxonomically speaking.”
Each of his legs moves with hypnotic precision, and I find myself tracking their movement despite my terror. He’s at least twelve feet tall when fully extended, his exoskeleton catching the fading light in ways that highlight its deadly elegance.
And here I am, a frumpy, squishy human wrapped up in his web like a convenience store burrito.
“This is a security measure,” he explains, gesturing to the web with one clawed hand. “Not specifically designed for delivery personnel. Though, it’s functioning admirably.”
My brain finally kicks back into gear. “That’s nice, but can you let me go now? This isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my evening.”
