Me and Mel wanted to stay up a little longer and keep talking, but as it was 1:00 in the morning, Mel’s mom insisted we go back to bed after making sure we were both fine.

“Please! Just ten minutes mom! I’ll go to bed right after!” Mel insists, her green eyes big and innocent as she pleads with her mother.

“What is there that you need to talk about now that can’t wait till dawn? If you really want to be up and talking, I can wake you up earlier and you can talk in the morning?”

Mel’s mother was probably hoping the threat of being woken up early would whisk her daughter off to bed. She must be really tired though. Because I’m thirteen—plus a couple hundred spider years—and I can already see how the little devil is going to make this backfire.

“Oh, then could you wake me and Sel up at five then? That way we can talk then instead.”

Mel’s mom’s smile seems to cramp on her face, her eye suffers from an involuntary twitch as she realizes her threat would require her to wake up at five, on a weekend. Either to get Mel and me out of bed or to the ruckus Mel makes when she gets up. Mel is a morning person—and the most hateful kind too—being woken up early is probably a bit more effective of a threat against her siblings than it is on her. I offer a sympathetic smile to Mel’s mom; we have both suffered.

Mrs. Quinton glances between the two of us, a conflicted look on her face. After taking another glance at me her face takes on a hint of pity and she says,

“Well, I guess this is a special occasion. You can bring your sleeping stuff down here and sleep with Selina if you want, but you have to fall asleep. No talking until really late, okay?”

Her tone is stern but the smile on her face is affectionate. I glance over at Mel’s beaming face and sigh internally. I knew the fiend would get her way.

“Thanks, Mom! I’m going to head up and grab my stuff! You can head to bed; I can grab it!”

“Ah—I’ll help too!” I scramble out of the sleeping bag and pillow nearly falling off the couch in my hurry as the bag catches on my legs. Scrambling, I quickly follow Mel up the wooden stairs to her and her sister’s room.

“Don’t wake up Tiffany! You know how ornery your sister gets if she’s woken up!” with that last whispered warning we leave the living room and Mrs. Quinton behind as we scramble up the last stairs. Passing by her younger brother Mickey’s room we head towards her and Tiffanies. The floor creaks as we walk down the hall. The noise is deafening in the otherwise quiet house.

Reaching the door, we crack it open as slowly as we can. I can’t help but feel like we are in one of those heist movies or slipping into a dragon’s hoard. I feel pretty cool slipping in like some kind of ninja on a secret mission. Secretly infiltrating enemy territory—

*Creeeaaaaaaak*

Mel had opened the door a little too slowly! Stupid door! Mel is ahead of me and we both freeze at the sound. Glancing over to where Tiffany’s still form can be seen on the right side of the room. The lump stirs a little, the blankets shifting as the occupant rearranges their self and then lies still again. I watch Mel’s tensed shoulders relax as I feel mine do the same. I quietly exhale in relief. The dragon still sleeps.

I give the door a firm glare as we head to the other side of the room where Mel’s bed is. Grabbing Mel’s pillows and blankets from off her bed as quietly as we can, we rush from the room. Closing the door much more carefully this time to prevent any noise. Only when the door is closed do we share a smile. We seized the dragon’s hoard right out from under its nose!

As we set up Mel’s sleeping accouterments on the other couch, I ask her a question that’s been bothering me ever since I woke up from my dream.

“Hey Mel, you know the hero that defeated the Demon Lord?”

“Of course, what other hero would we be talking about?” She rolls her eyes as she says it and I feel my cheeks flush.

“Well, the hero is a boy, right? I mean, I’m pretty sure they were a boy, are a boy, but I just realized I wasn’t sure, and his name is so weird that I wasn’t positive, so…” I trail off rather awkwardly. I cringe inside at the garbled mess that came out of my mouth. I can’t help feeling self-conscious about asking something so obvious and as a result, the words I wanted to say came out all jumbled around. The flush in my cheeks isn’t helping either.

Mel gives me a strange look before responding. “Hero Xander is most definitely a boy. Are you sure you’re okay? I know you’re bad at history, but we’ve been learning about the hero since preschool and you never realized he was a boy?”

“Ah, well, in my… dream the hero that defeated the Demon Lord was a girl, so I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t confused or anything.” I stare at the ground as I say this last part. I want to tell my friend about the new memories and knowledge I discovered, but I can’t help but worry she won’t believe me. It’s weird how I know that the memories are mine and that I am the Demon Lord. It’s a part of who I am, and yet thinking about explaining how I know this to someone else makes me feel sick with dread. They would definitely think I am crazy.

The fact that the hero in my memories was a girl too, certainly didn’t help my case as far as the crazy part goes. Insisting that hero Xander didn’t kill the Demon Lord would practically be hearsay.

Mel’s eyes gleam with excitement. I feel a sense of panic take over as I figure that somehow, I’ve let something slip. Did she figure it out? What should I tell her? I frantically try and think about how I am going to explain it all and then—

“You dreamed about the Hero and Demon Lord? How is THAT a nightmare! That sounds like one of the coolest dreams ever! What did the hero look like in your dream? You said it was a girl!? Did she look amazing? Did she have a really cool sword? Did the Demon Lord look scary?”

Ah. I forgot. Mel was a super fan of all the old Demon Lord/Hero stuff. The age of Swords and Magic may have been 300 years ago but that didn’t stop Meg from fangirling over it.

I try and answer the stream of questions as best I can, but I probably forget a few as they spew out of her mouth faster than I can answer.

“The hero was an older teenage girl with long blond hair, she was wearing plate with glowing symbols on it and was carrying a pretty cool dagger… and a glowing orb of light that shot out spells which was pretty cool. And I guess she was amazing? The Demon Lord looked like a giant spider…”

Mel’s eyes grow with wonder and excitement as I tell her about the hero and magic, but she recoils with a look of disgust when I mention the spider.

“Ew, gross. A spider Demon Lord! That’s disgusting! No wonder you woke up screaming!”

I am astonished at how much her words hurt. Even I was less than thrilled when I remembered I used to be a spider. Since waking up, I really haven’t had time to process what this all means. I don’t know what to think about all of it, but I do know what hearing a friend call your appearance disgusting feels like. It hurts.

Mel looks at me and starts to panic.

“Ah, don’t worry though! If any spider tries to hurt you I’ll squish them flat! You don’t have to worry Sel! I’m sorry I reminded you about the spider, but don’t worry I’m here to protect you!”

She raises her pillow up, the very picture of an angry god about to smite someone with a fluffy death.

I giggle a little. Her words don’t actually comfort me that much—with the dream so fresh, it's a little too soon to be talking about squishing spiders—but the angry little demon raising up her pillow in my defense does lift my mood. Mel being Mel is always the best.

I opened my mouth to tell her just how silly she looks when a loud bang interrupts me.

*BANG, stomp, stomp, stomp*

“You two better SHUT UP! Or I will get my boyfriend to blast you both to SMITHERINES with a fireball! If I hear one more PEEP out of either of you, I will go get mom and get her to send your rotten friend home and make your life a living HELL! So, GO TO SLEEP!”

The raging witch at the top of the stairs glares down upon us with its ugl—ah, oops. Well, we were warned not to wake Tiffany up, I guess we didn’t quite escape from the dragon.

After the dragon returned to its layer, we both quiet down and go to sleep. Strangely it doesn’t take me long to drift off despite the huge revelation that I was the Demon Lord. I kind of just threw all related Demon Lord thoughts to the back of my head and figured I would deal with them later. My dreams were strange. I watched a giant pillow descend from the sky and almost squish me, but it missed and hit a dragon instead that was orating about proper sleep and fireballs. Fortunately, this dream was only a dream and I slept rather peacefully. One life-changing dream a night was definitely my limit.

I awoke to a crushing sensation on my chest. I try to shove it off and return to the land of dreams, but it persists and adds in a bouncing feeling that shook any idea of staying asleep right out of my head. I open my eyes slowly and find that there was a monstrous monster sitting on my sleeping bag! It had long red hair, green eyes, and a huge malicious grin on its face. My heart sinks at the betrayal. My best friend had woken me up, and early no less!

“Mel, what are you doing? Get off me.” My tired voice and bleary thoughts were not quite aligned, so instead of sounding indignant, I sound pouty.

“You can’t sleep in today Sel! I have to leave for sword practice in a little and by the time I get back, you’ll be gone! So, we got to have fun now!” she emphasizes the last point by bouncing up and down, I reply with a grunt as I feel Mel’s weight come crashing down on me.

“Okay, but what do you want to do? It’s like, six in the morning? We already woke Tiffany up once and I don’t think we can afford to do that again?” *Yawn*

“Hmm, help me tie up my hair for sword practice, and then we can warm up together. I’ll help you with your hair in a second.”

Mel gets off my sleeping bag and I scramble out of it as quickly as I can. My sleeping bag has seen more use as a straitjacket than a sleeping bag lately and with Mel being quite the swordswoman, I am already at a disadvantage without my arms pinned to my side!

Mel turns her back to me while sitting on the couch. I have to kneel to see the top of her head since at 5’3” she is five inches taller than me, which is completely unfair since I am two months older than her!

As I examine her long red hair that goes down to her midback I think about what I should do with it. I could merely tie it up, but I’m still tired and want to put off ‘warming up’ as long as possible. I go through the usual braids I do, which are variations of three tail and French braiding, but quickly realize that there are so many other options.

I absent-mindedly grab the comb she hands me and feel the threads beneath my fingers. They are soft and simple but capable of taking on so many different shapes. As I comb through the hair and attempt to perform the first part of the braid, my fingers can’t seem to follow what I’m attempting to do. The hair clumps, and instead of flowing into place it frizzes out into a mess.

Again, and again I try and position the hair how I envision it, but my fingers aren’t moving how I want them to! Why isn’t this working!?

“What are you doing Mel? You’re taking too long; you just have to tie it up. So—ouch!”

I give her hair an angry tug. I am still a little angry at being woken up early. But it’s probably a good thing she interrupted my thoughts when she did. I realized that the ideas I am having were different than my usual thoughts.

They were from when I was a spider. When a mere thought could send my legs spinning thread into the most dazzling and complex shapes. I can still imagine those, but my fingers aren’t quite dexterous enough for the task. There is an impasse between what I see and the knowledge of how to get there.

The feeling is unbearably frustrating. I know I should be able to do what I want, but physically I’m incapable of replicating it. It makes me feel crippled or broken. Tasks that should be simple and easy are impossible for me to accomplish. Why is this so hard!?

The thought brings clarity to an assumption I had mistakenly made. I am the Demon Lord, and I used to be a ferocious monster that caused the entire world to unite in the common cause to defeat me. I could perform spells that laid waste to armies, create traps that could snare the cleverest of opponents, and could contend with the greatest of fighters nimbly striking and smashing them apart with well-placed blows and perfect timing. But that was me ‘the spider’.

Me the 4’10” 90lb 13-year-old was not capable of any of these things. I might be able to do some of them if I practiced and translated them from my spider form to my humanoid one, but otherwise, I was not much different than I was before. I am not suddenly going to become the most powerful 13-year-old girl in the world, unfortunately.

As my dreams of smashing through walls and flying through the sky are slowly crushed, I begin a much simpler three-strand braid. I could have just tied it up like Mel insisted, but I vowed to myself that I would get better at least at this. I may not be able to make the braids I wanted to, yet, but I was going to practice until my ten fingers could fly faster than my eight legs ever could!

So, I watch my fingers carefully. Making sure to keep the braid nice and tight. Winding each strand of hair around the other while analyzing how I could improve next time, using my past memories as a reference. I still make some mistakes, but it is probably the best braid I’ve ever made.

Smiling, I sit back and examine my handiwork.

“Done!”

“This looks great Mel! Now let me do yours.”

I turn around and sit while Mel circles around behind me. I can feel her comb pulling through my shoulder-length black hair. Then small tugs as she pulls smaller parts of it. It seems she wants to return the favor by braiding my hair. Though it seems a little silly since my hair isn’t nearly as long as Mel’s.

I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of the brush going through my hair and the small gentle tugs. My mind starts to drift off as Mel continues to pull and twist behind me.

Unfortunately, the little slice of heaven I’ve found doesn’t last long. Soon enough Mel is shaking me from behind, dragging me out of the living room through the kitchen, out the backdoor, and into the yard.

I stumble along still trying to shake off the last vestiges of fatigue. Hmm, how did I get here? I stare blankly at the yard, one second, I’m feeling the joy of being pampered as someone braids and combs my hair, and the next, I’m in the training yard ready to begin the torture. Give me back my paradise!

Unlike Mel, I am not a morning person, at all.

Mel still manages to line me up and lead me in a basic warm-up and stretching routine despite my drowsy mind. We swing our arms around in circles, perform multiple types of lunges and contort ourselves in all manner of uncomfortable positions.

There are so many different stretches that it always surprises me that Mel can remember them all, sometimes I suspect she forgets a couple and I don’t notice because there are just so many of them.

“Okay, now backbend! Walk your feet forward! No Sel! You have to keep your legs straight!”

I give a grunt and try to follow the instructions. Is this supposed to hurt this much? Actually, a better question is how can she talk in this position? All I can do is give a couple of ugly grunts and yet she can still instruct me from the same position, while also watching my form? How is that fair? Demon!

I giggle and collapse in the middle of the backbend. My giggle erupts into full born laughter as I clutch my stomach. I keep calling her Demon in my mind, but I just realized that I am the Demon Lord. If it was true, that would make Mel my subordinate, right? My memories hint that the relationship is a bit more complex, but I choose to ignore that little nagging voice. It is more fun thinking of Mel as my sidekick! Go forth my minion!

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Mel peers down at me, her eyes narrowing as she glances towards my giggling figure.

“N-nothing! N-n-nothing at all!” *gasp* I try and catch my breath as more fits of laughter overtake me. Mel’s pouting face does not help at all.

“Come on, tell me.” *poke*

I feel something jab into my side, and I squeal in panic. That tickles! I flip around and try to crawl away, but Mel is quicker and starts to mercilessly poke and tickle me!

“Ah—STOP! Mel, Pleeeease stop!” *Eeek*

“Tell me, tell me, tell me, I’ll stop once you tell me!”

“D-Demon!” *Ha, ha, ha*

Mel stops and glances down at me as I gasp for breath. How can she do this to her boss? *Heh, heh*

“Very well then, if you won’t tell me then I guess we will just have to continue with our warmup. I’ve got my wooden swords right here so we can go a few bouts.” She smiles evilly and I stop giggling.

She may refer to it as a ‘bout’, but I am pretty sure any onlooker would call me a ‘moving target’. Even though I feel my position was akin to a mobile punching bag, I know Mel usually goes easy on me. But with that evil grin on her face, I might come away with a couple good smacks this time.

I give her a pitiful look as I stand up, but her eyes are unrelenting.

“Mel, I don’t even practice with swords, hitting—er, I mean, sparring with me won’t really help you at all. So, I was thinking that today we could just do more stretches? I think my backbend was really improving, so…”

Her evil smile becomes reassuring. I feel a chill run down my back.

“Don’t worry Mel! No matter how bad you are it helps me get in the right state of mind by having a live opponent! I really appreciate you doing this for me, please take care of me!” She offers me a small bow.

What state of mind!? A sadist’s!?

I resignedly head over to the small shed tucked into the corner of the yard where Mel keeps her gear. Mel’s mother won’t let her store her swordsmanship equipment inside as Mel has a penchant for leaving a mess and makes her store it out here instead to “at least keep the mess outside”. I pick up my wooden sword and give it a few swings. It’s pretty small, but Mel insists that the balance is right for me. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what that entails, but I’ve never had any problems, so I don’t complain.

I get ready, holding the sword correctly and getting in the right stance. Proper form is something you cannot help but pick up when around someone who practices the sword. It is beaten into you in a quite literal fashion.

Holding the sword so the blade is tipped towards Mel and putting my feet shoulder-width apart, one in front of the other pointing out at different angles I take a breath and prepare myself for the beating.

Mel looks at me with slight exasperation.

“We have to do our warmup swings first. I’m glad you’re so excited but you can’t start fighting without warming up your swings.”

“Oops.”

We have been over this before, but it still seems silly to me. Wasn’t what we just did stretching and warming up? What is the point of a second one?

Still, I don’t argue and begin swinging the sword as well as I can. Occasionally, Mel will call over with some advice.

“Keep the sword more in front of you Sel!”

“Your timing was a little off, make sure that you keep your footing while changing positions.”

“OH! That one was great! Just do it one more time and then we can start.”

It’s actually kind of fun. The sword I am using is heavier than the one I started out with. Back when Mel first dragged me out to practice with her. Despite the increase in weight, my arms don’t burn after only a few warmup swings like they used to. My pale arms may resemble skinny sticks, but now the sticks have a bit more ‘oomph’ to their swing.

Swing up, Swing Left, Swing right, Swing Down, Stab forward. Repeat.

There are other swings that Mel does besides me. They’re more complicated and even her basic swings are more precise than mine, but I don’t mind. Not everyone can be as monstrous as Mel.

“You ready? I’ll stand over here and you stand over there. We’ll begin, but remember this is a warmup. Real fights are over in seconds, this is slower and is more to practice your parries and footwork than actually about winning.”

I nod seriously as I take my position. Waiting for Mel to make her move. She slowly begins circling me and I begin circling in the other direction. It is annoying because now I have to concentrate on both Mel and where to place my feet.

Then I see it.

Mel bursts forward her sword swinging in front of her as it comes down on my left side. I am ready and deflect it to the side stumbling backward. The extra distance giving me time to parry the next two blows that come in quick succession.

*Clack Clack Clack*

Mel stops moving forward and gives me a grin as I get back in my stance.

“Hey, that was pretty good. I didn’t think you’d block that last one.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” I respond. It’s happening again. Just like when I braided Mel’s hair, there’s something different today. I see it again.

Mel steps forward again but this time the sword is stabbed towards my chest. I awkwardly slap it aside with the bottom of my blade and quickly throw my arms up and to the left, my blade intercepting a slash coming in on my right.

*Clack Clack*

I swing at Mel, more to keep her from advancing than expecting to hit her. She looks open, but a small step back has my blade harmlessly passing by her sending me slightly off balance.

“Wow, you’re doing a lot better today Sel! Have you been practicing without me? Or is your military thingy teaching you fighting or something?”

“N-no, nothing like that. They mostly have us practicing our aim at the shooting range. Introducing us to rifles and pistols. Most of it’s just been safety stuff.”

Mel moves again and I see it. The best comparison I can make was an experience I had in my sixth-grade math class. Mr. Johnson had placed a math equation on the board and asked us to solve it. The equation looked like gibberish, full of unknown jargon and complexity. Unsurprisingly, none of us were able to solve it.

Mel’s sword swings as she steps forward into range. I can tell it's headed towards my left leg and clumsily sweep my sword downward to deflect it.

*Clack*

Mel’s strikes used to be just like that equation on the board. They look like a beautiful kind of chaos. Her strikes zooming in at openings I didn’t know I had. Like water seeping through my hands, they would bypass my defense and leave me with a small bruise while I was still wondering how it happened.

When Mr. Johnson showed us the exact same equation at the end of the year, almost every student was able to solve it with ease. I hadn’t even recognized the easy problem until he told us. The entire class had protested that it wasn’t the same problem until he had handed us back our old work.

I smack another swing that was aimed at my shoulder and then hop out of the way for one that is heading for my lower leg.

Mel’s swordplay is just like that equation on the board. There are things in her stance that I had never even noticed that stood out to me now. The way her feet shifted as she moved and the way her shoulders tightened all told a story I couldn’t hear before. Tiny whispered clues that Mel conveys to me, her every movement telling me where she is going to strike next.

I am just not fast enough to block all of them.

*Smack*

I yelp and grab my shin, dropping my sword and collapsing to the ground. It isn’t bad, but it smarts something awful. Clutching my leg, I can’t help but think that maybe I’ve underestimated how useful the memories I’d gotten are. They are why I was doing so much better in this fight compared to my previous bouts with Mel.

Hundreds of years of fighting various monsters and humans had left me with an instinctual grasp of the ‘flow of combat’ as Mel calls it. I don’t know how to react very well to that ‘flow’ hence why I couldn’t get out of the way of Mel’s last strike, but I did know that it was coming. This could be very useful!

As I was thinking about how much better I felt about getting memories that contained millions of images of me eating bugs, I glance up at Mel who is standing over me, reaching down to assist me up.

Her expression is stern, and she seems ready to say something. Probably getting ready to critique that last exchange. I ready myself for the “don’t drop your weapon” discussion…

When suddenly the image of Mel shifts and instead, I see a blond, blue-eyed hero standing in front of me a blazing sword raised ready to run me through. My chest feels a burning pain and my arms feel like they are on fire. I open my mouth to scream—!