A Web of Mistakes

From my perch just above the central chasm, I watched each of them move into place. Lae’zel crouched low near the far bridge, her Paladin greatsword drawn, eyes locked on her target like an arrow begging to be released. Karlach was further to the right, closer to the hanging egg clusters, her axe resting lightly against her shoulder, firelight dancing across her muscles. Shadowheart held back near the tunnel’s mouth, hands already alight with whispered fire magic.

The Matriarch circled the central web platform—just like I remembered. Slow. Predictable. Testing for prey. And then she stepped close. Too close.

This was it.

I drew both hands forward, channeled the pulse of eldritch **** through my arms. I had done this dozens of times before. The twin Compelling Blasts arced forward.

And missed.

The first clipped air. The second sizzled past the matriarch’s hind leg, slamming harmlessly into the stone far below.

“FUCK!” The echo of my curse bounced off the cavern walls like a second explosion.

Everything stopped. Karlach turned first, mouth half open in disbelief. Shadowheart blinked. Even Lae’zel paused—just a second too long. Then she yelled, "htak'a"—the sharp Githyanki war cry tearing through the air. She surged forward toward her target, blade raised.

But the pause had already cost us.

The Matriarch blinked. One second she was across the chasm, eight legs splayed wide over silk. The next, she was beside me, twice my height of snapping limbs and venomous fury.

“Oh no—”

I barely had time to raise my shield before she reared back and spat. A spray of green mist hit me square in the chest. It burned instantly—acidic, thick, clinging. I felt it hit skin beneath my armor. The edge of my vision swam. A nauseating dizziness twisted in my gut. My knees buckled.

And then she screamed.

It wasn’t sound. It was a psychic shriek, a pulse that rattled my teeth and echoed in the space between my thoughts. Egg sacs popped. Dozens of them. Tiny, pale spiderlings poured out in waves, clambering over stone and silk, beady eyes flashing in the glow of Karlach’s flame.

She and Lae’zel had closed distance to their original targets and landed their first hits—Lae’zel’s sword cleaving into one of the phase spiders’ legs with a crack, Karlach’s axe hammering into its thorax—but even they were armored, fast, and maddeningly mobile. They were a world away from me now.

Shadowheart snapped a firebolt into one of the newborns, reducing it to a pile of ash. Another bolt followed. And another. But for each one she burned, more spilled from the shadows.

I coughed, stumbled sideways, and nearly lost my footing on the platform. The Matriarch hissed again, preparing another strike.

I tried to think. Everything was noise.

Plan's falling apart. Too many enemies. Can’t hit. Can’t cast. Can’t— The poison blurred my sight again.

Shadowheart’s voice rang out from the backline. “Tav!”

I staggered up against the edge of a pillar, gasping for breath, hand glowing dimly with arcane heat. Karlach was still fighting hard, her armor-less shoulders singed, her axe embedded deep into her spider’s head. Lae’zel moved like a dancer, her sword spinning wide arcs, fending off her quarry with perfect form. But neither could reach me. Not in time.

Shadowheart’s fire scorched another few of the hatchlings, but she was losing ground. They were climbing the walls now, circling the platform. I could see the panic in her posture, though she never stopped casting.

This was bad.

I braced myself against the stone. The Matriarch clicked again, then blinked a few feet away—preparing to lunge.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have time.

I just had to think.