Harris and I were eating leftover spider-legs the following morning. Leftovers. Leftovers. Left–o–vers. The idea was so ordinary yet seemed so absurd after the first dreadful days of hunger in this dump. It was nice, waking up, my stomach grumbling but already having a sizable helping of food nearby.

Though Harris was unusually reserved after I’d sat down and offered him a share of the spider legs. More so than usual. Conversations with him tended to go on until either my throat felt too coarse to talk anymore or he’d arrived at some hole in his memory, whereupon he’d quietly trail off and mumble to himself for a while.

A bit weird, but honestly? There’s weirder stuff out there and for being alone for what is looking like a really, really long time, he’s holding up well-ish. I think he’s a bit embarrassed about his memory loss. He knows that he once knew things I wanted to know now, and he also knew that I knew he knew, which is making him feel inadequate for not knowing what I want to know now.

Either that, or he just has problems keeping a conversation going. Not that there is much to talk about when you’re stuck in a pitch-black temple surrounded by bogs, ruins, endless cliffs, and graveyards. The only other person – creature, rather – either of us could even talk with was Glom and we all know how pleasant that fat toad is to deal with.

No one likes Glom.

That was something both of us could agree on, a shared dislike for Glom the toad. Harris was a bit wary around him; he didn’t like him mostly out of economic aspects. Glom didn’t really buy or sell anything as he was, well, a toad, and toads don’t have much use for a merchant and vice versa.

I didn’t like Glom because he was rude, he was annoying, he looked so insufferably smug sitting there, filling out his bowl to the brim like it was crafted specifically for him. He was also a disgusting frog, which in my opinion weighed heavily against everything he could ever say to me. Toad. Same thing.

Come to think of it, I also haven’t traded really anything with Harris. I think, after having explained it once, he was confused but understood that it’s due to my principles (Who in their right mind sells their soul, even just parts of it?) and not because I didn’t want to buy anything. He has some pretty interesting bits and bobs lying around and I’d be happy to trade whatever I find out there and don’t need for some of Harris’ stash of goodies. But so far, all I’ve brought back are spider bits.

We talked a bit about Glom and the sentinel, but the conversation quickly died down. Neither of us actually knew much about either of them, the only other inhabitants of this forlorn temple besides us.

The gem-eyed sentinel barely counted as a resident. I hadn’t seen it in any place other than at the temple entrance and even then, I didn’t dare get close enough to be able to make out its full form. It had to be tall, for sure. The me-sized arrows it used probably required a much larger bow in as well as a lot more strength to pull the string back.

I asked Harris if he knew anything about it, but he just shrugged and returned to quietly slurping out his spider leg.

“So… are. We. In. Hell. Or. Limbo?” I tried restarting a previous conversation. Harris however had other ideas.

“Miss Rye? May I ask ya’ a question?”

Well, that’s a welcome surprise. Usually, I’m the one asking questions.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, you’ve been here for quite some time. Five of my days, if I’m counting right at least.” He said.

“Eight.”

“Eight, then.” He paused, looking slightly down and to the side. I stared straight at his face; his apprehension had roused my interest.

“… are you headed somewhere in specific, out there? I know you go out to the swamp for the spiders, and I’m grateful that you’re sharing so many of them with me, but I have to ask: do you have somewhere to be or something to do? O-only if you don’t mind sharing, that is.”

Huh. You know, I hadn’t thought about it. I figured I’d just go out, kill spiders, come back, eat spiders, clean myself, sleep and repeat ad infinitum until somehow circumstances here turned for the better. Sure, I had some vague idea of not wanting to kill and, more importantly, eat spiders for the rest of my second life down here, but there wasn’t any sort of path I wanted to take, any place that spoke to me, anything that made me go “ooh, I wanna do that!”.

I rummaged around in my memory, looking for any outstanding goals or just things I’d like to see done.

Food? Done. Water? Done. Shelter? Done. Happiness? Very pending. Redemption of my soul? Eeeh, I did kill a lot of spiders. That’s gotta count for something. But is there something else I want to do, something specific, a goal maybe?

Well, I want to know what was on the pendant I was buried with. Problem is, I lost it at the place in the graveyard with the one-armed giant and whatever horror was scurrying about in the darkness. I… am not brave enough to return to my grave anytime soon, so scratch that. I’ll just get myself killed if I do.

Also, I don’t have enough light to make out fine details like that yet. The light a soul can give gets brighter, the angel-lady and her light were proof enough. But how did it do that? Is there a trick or does it come naturally, like walking or hating frogs? I’ll have to figure that out on my own, sadly. And I have the vague idea that I’m not going to find the answer while killing spiders.

Next up, the ring. It has something engraved on it too, but I can’t read it. It’s too finely crafted and, once again, not enough light. Ugh, that’s so frustrating. Even though I have it right here on my finger, I can’t do anything with it. I don’t even know if it’s some sort of magical ring that can make me run faster, think better, or do magic.

I want to learn how to do magic!

No, wait, focus. Learning magic is impossible without a master, without someone who knows how to do magic without… well, unspecified bad things happening. And finding someone like that anytime soon belongs firmly in the wishful thinking category.

What is it that I’m actually trying to accomplish out here? Finding an answer was turning out to be very difficult.

“Take your time, I know it’s a bit of a personal ques-“ I held up a hand, indicating that I was still thinking about it. No, I still had some things I hadn’t revisited in my memory. If I went out to other places, I could maybe find some better food.

Maybe some weapons or armor.

Maybe people.

Maybe answers.

Maybe people with answers. And armor and weapons. But above all, answers are what I need most.

I don’t want to go back to the old graveyard, for fear of whatever lurks there and also because the one-armed giant will likely just cut me in half. So, that’s off the table for now.

I came to the temple by road. A well-made road. It was a neat thing to come across and it ended at the temple bridge, but surely it had to lead somewhere if I followed it the other way. That would probably entail walking quite a bit and I’m not sure where exactly I’d end up.

Let’s face it, I’m not ready to give up this temple as a safe place to return to and sleep in just yet. I wouldn’t make it two days without knowing where to hunt for easy food.

Which leaves the swampy forest and the endless ravine.

The ravine is very, very deep as far as I can tell. I don’t think I can climb all that well, and I doubt there’s anything useful at the bottom of it. Off the table it is.

Which leaves the swampy forest. I can find my way through it with a fair bit of certainty now and I’m confident that I can deal with large bristle spiders if I’m not surprised or outnumbered more than two to one. But I don’t know if there even is anything beyond the drowned chapel and even if there was, just walking there, let alone killing all the spiders I’ll inevitably have to on the way would be very tiring.

Well, I had at least one person I could ask. Not that I was expecting Harris to give me a full map or anything or even remember anything more than random landmarks

“Harris? Drowned. Chapel. Past. Anything. Interest–cough–ing?”

That question prompted a series of mutterings as he tapped the side of his head with his index, tap-tap tapping for the right spark of memory.

“There’s… something. I know it. I remember voices, telling me– no, wait, they were talking to each other. A woman with a long spear and a man with the face of a wolf. They were talking about… the late king. About… ceremonies. Past the lone king’s statue. Rushing water. Pools of it, so, so much water.” He looked down at his hands, confused.

“Gods, I can’t remember at all.” He said.

“Ok. Thank. You. Anyway.” So there is a place beyond the chapel. Since all the other options range from unappealingly long walks into the dark to guaranteed death with a mild chance of bisection, I think I have my answer now.

“I. Will. Go. Beyond. Chapel. Explore.”

I feel confident enough. I have a “short sword” that feels better and better to wield each day that I do, a buckler shield to punch and protect, and a full belly. I was ready to really do what knights do. Adventure, fight the monster, un-damsel the maidens! What better time than now to find new lands, explore new places?

Find better foods.

Yes, I was definitely going out there right this second. The spider meat was somewhat filling and my… condition was improving, but my stomach was telling me I wouldn’t get far by just eating spiders. Harris however seemed rather apprehensive about the idea. He sputtered as I motioned to get up.

“Y-you’re going out there?”

Yup.

“On your own?”

Yup.

“Right now?”

Right now. I’m not eating spider another day if I can help it.

He sighed. “I… sorry, I shouldn’t tell ya’ what I think ya’ should and shouldn’t do. I don’t know what it’s like out there. If you’re going further, miss Rye, then ya’ should know that I’ll still be here if ya’ ever decide to come back.”

He rummaged around his mound of pillows. It sounded like he had a whole treasury back there, metal, glass and rock clinking and clattering as he dug something out from his pile. He presented it to me. It was a small, round ball of wood.

“This is… well, it’s for sharing the food with me. I… honestly, I wasn’t expecting ya’ to share yours with me every single day just for telling ya’ where to get it and, ya’ see, I didn’t know what ya’ really wanted or even liked, but I felt the need to give ya’ something in return to pay the debt.” I took the orb, holding it between my thumb and index while staring at it intently.

“What. Is. It?” I asked, turning it this way and that.

“It’s a ball with wyckwax. The inside is hollow. You can separate it into two halves by twisting and put the cream onto your wounds. I hear it helps with the bleeding. Oh, and with infection.”

Goodies! This man truly knows what a girl wants in life. Bleeding out was definitely on the top of my list of fates I’d rather avoid. Right after drowning. And succumbing to poison. Or infection.

Man am I glad I wasn’t poisoned by those big bristle spiders. I haven’t been stung even once by the bigger ones and I intend to keep that record. Their stingers are a lot bigger than the small one that that screwed my entire arm for five days straight. Though, if they do get a good hit in, even while ignoring the poison I’d have quite the wound to worry about.

“And this too.” He offered what looked and felt like a long, heavy cord of leather. It was a belt, with a variety of small bags running along it. “To hold it in.”

Wow. Just… wow. Pockets. On armor? What an unattainable luxury. It is for me. Turns out he really enjoyed those spiders, I guess. Or maybe he was just that hungry. I was just giving him a share every day because I’d rather not see him starve but I guess it looked a bit different in his eyes. Either way, this was a really nice gift and the idea that I had done something to deserve it, no matter how small, filled my heart with a warm tingly feeling.

I did good! Wohoo!

“Thank. You. Sun’s. Blessings.”

“Bless the sun.”

He smiled and I just realized that that was indeed the correct phrase to answer with. Huh, wonder why my memory thought that was important to know, but not the faces of my parents or my siblings or, or, or…

Yeah, I need answers. Right now. I am not waiting one more day.

With that, I stood up and started walking away.

“Oh and, miss Rye?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure to come back in one piece, alright?” Aw. Was he worried about me? So that’s why he seemed a bit awkward around me today.

No worries, Harris, for I am Rye, slayer of spiders, conquerer of swamps, getter of loot! I will go out on a quest and return with only the greatest of treasures.

“I’ll. Bring. Goodies. Pillows. Maybe.”

And with that, I was off. Out of the hallway and through the lair of worms. The sitting figure of Glom came into my vision and left it almost as quickly as I hurried along, feeling like I was going out to save the world.

“Worm.” A rumbling, slimy voice interrupted my good mood.

I turned around, lacing my voice with only a slight amount of frustration.

“What?”

Glom snorted. Really? Is there some sort of joke that I’m not privy to going on here? He was jiggling visibly. Why’s he jiggling like that? Dammit, why am I always being ridiculed by a toad?

Haha. Screw you. I’m not a worm. I eat spiders and spiders eat worms, which means I’m better.

I performed my best riposte and blew a raspberry at him. That just got him jiggling even more, a deep croaking laughter filling the room and echoed far away.

“A worm, yes indeed, still a worm. Yet maybe one day… maybe…”

I ignored whatever else he had to say. I was already on my way out.

As I was stomping through the perpetually moist forest, my mood showed no signs of improving to its previous high, curtesy of Glom. I went past the fallen over pillar and stabbed a sticky spider at the arch on the path a few minutes later with particular disdain.

Dirty little shits. Always trying to drop onto my face, unsuccessfully. They never learn. I do.

I wiped my broken sword with particular disdain. I had a goal in mind, I was confident and oh boy was I going to show that damned frog reject what’s what when I returned. Somehow, whenever Glom said anything, it really got under my skin. The sound of his voice. Always judging, the feeling as it reverberated through me, within my body.

The blatant rudeness in his unpleasant words.

I should find some salt. Make him shrivel a bit.

Maybe that was going to far, though. But maybe, he deserved to suffer. He hadn’t asked me or flat-out demanded that I hand over my soul, but he was most definitely somehow related to that first toothy toad.

Which brought up the question, does punishing wicked creatures and people count as a good thing or is that just senseless violence? My feelings on that?

Well, currently I was leaning towards “let them sizzle a bit”. Not exactly going to burn people that I find revolting or evil, however loosely and by whomever that is defined, but some equalizing punishment had to be done. Justice, I feel, was something I could get behind. To an extent of course. Murder, even in an execution, was never justified.

Second chances? Depends on the character. I’m still not sure whether I am currently living mine, or if I’m already in hell, grinding away at sins I don’t even remember committing. Ugh, let’s not open that part of the box. But whenever I started thinking about why I’m here, it inevitably got entangled with what “here” was.

“Here” as in in front of the drowned chapel? – Because I walked here.

“Here” as in in a place where I’m forced to fight with every ounce of strength to survive, eat spiders, live in the dark and tolerate toads?

Well, that was a bit more difficult of a question to answer. Harris wasn’t much help; he avoided that topic like a plague. No idea why and I wasn’t going to pry. I think talking about it caused us both some amount of pain.

Ugh. I’m in Hell. A nightmare would have been over by this point and a dream wouldn’t have me second guessing every action I take.

Which means, I’m a sinner. I did something so bad, it colored my very soul, and now I have to slowly grind the sins to dust before I can be redeemed. At least, I think I can be redeemed. That is one thing I am not going to let myself question. Ever. It didn’t change how I would act, but I was going to have a positive mindset about it.

If I can be redeemed? I might as well put in some work towards that nebulous goal.

If I can’t? Well, I’d rather go down a good person trying the impossible. Besides, I’m not one for sitting down in one place for a long time. I learned that at the temple. Whenever I did, I started picking at my fingers or bobbing my foot up and down and look at that: I was pacing around the temple for the umpteenth time again.

Speaking of moving: Where to next? I was past the chapel, having made one nearly full large circle around it, and apart from a few smatterings of slightly suspiciously placed flagstones in the middle of the ever-deepening muck, there was no path that wouldn’t get my boots wet.

I circled back around to the entrance, facing it as I tried to make a mental map of the place. Eleven feet of dim light wasn’t a lot to work with. But, if my guesswork was right, then I had two choices: Going slightly left of the chapel, diagonally into the only slightly deepening muck, or go straight ahead, directly into the deepest parts of the mire.

It wasn’t much of a choice. I went left, for obvious reasons. I could clean the outside of my boots, they were made to be cleaned somewhat easily, but if they filled up with this absolutely disgusting bog water? Yeah, no chance of ever getting that smell out.

The path turned from small strips of foot-wide rocks into a game of hopscotch as the distance between them widened and the small, drier islands of mud and stone became slippery and mushy.

I slipped completely on a smooth rock at the seventh one.

“Wagh!”

Splurt.

I fell on my side, only half managing to roll away from landing face first. I tried pushing myself up, but as something slimy and wet slid into my glove, I stumbled and fell a bit again.

Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.

I pushed myself to my feet, letting only a little get into my boot. I emptied out the glove and heard a light pattering of a chunky something drop on the wet boggy floor.

Ew. Ew. Ew.

Slowly and with no small amount of revulsion, I put my glove back on.

A few more steps forward and I noticed an odd-looking rock. It was tall rather than wide and its base was hugged by two big roots snaking along and into the underground. The trees they belonged to were sorry looking ones, drooping sadly into the muck that just wouldn’t let go of their long and spindly branches.

I stepped closer to the boulder, noting its weirdly tall shape and form. It, as I came closer, revealed itself as some statue of probably a long-forgotten hero, god or maybe just a king. Hells, with the state of decay it was in, it could just as well have been some weirdly shaped natural rock.

I decided that this had to be the statue Harris had referred to, but he didn’t really give me a name besides “lone king’s statue” and that was a name that was decidedly too boring. Also, it didn’t really look very kingly and so, I renamed it. Now it was the statue of Flim-flam the cow-tipper, feared in all seven counties.

Whoever it was actually supposed to depict, they had no head, the legs were fused together and not really articulated while the hands stopped at the elbow, one pointing down, the other to the right.

I shook out the rest of my glove, walking in slow circles around it, to the steady sound of sloshing and pattering as I moved through the bog. As I thought of leaving, I spied a rather rough few scratches on its backside. They were made of weirdly glowing letters again which was really helpful as I could actually make out some of the writing and a stylized finger-arrow.

Regent’s Rest ahead. But, beware of fish.

Huh. Well, whatever that means, it’s pointing me to a place to the right. Also, what kind of fish can even survive in this muddy mess? Hopefully not toe-bighters. I hate toe-bighters because I liked my toes, and they did too.

I took another look at the statue.

Yeah, if it still had arms, one of them was definitely pointing in that direction as well. Well, who knows where it’s going to lead me, but then again, I’m here to explore. I just hope it’s not leading me deeper into the bog. Any more and I’ll have to choose between taking my boots off and carrying them or letting them fill with whatever unholy sludge this place has been stewing for the last few decades.

Sadly, as with most things so far, I was about to be disappointed. It led somewhere with fewer and fewer trees, but that somewhere just as quickly led into knee-deep swamp water. Weighing my options, I made the sad but necessary decision and undid my boots, tying them together and hanging them from my right arm.

The feeling of easing my naked feet into the swamp was… well, let’s say that I could have very much so done without it. The mud enveloped them like a wet and slimy blanket.

E-e-e-e-e-w-w-w-w-wuh.

It was not nice. But I made steady progress, trudging within the sludge. I passed lonely trees, small islands with similar looking statues and yet more hints of a stone road having been here at some point, but the water was getting deeper.

By the time it reached just below waist-height, I was debating turning around. I was really starting to feel the strain in my legs and my heart was following a quickened beat. The latter being only in part due to exhaustion. The darkness was all-enveloping, and I felt the slow tingle of fears of not being able to see far enough at all starting to clamp down at the edge of my mind.

Did I go the right way? Boy, I sure hope I did. Or that I could find my way back.

But what if I didn’t? I can barely see.

What’s that, a spider? Oh. No, just oddly shaped sticks and a rock.

At least there don’t seem to be any spiders around here. They’d probably just sink. As a matter of fact, I didn’t find a single living thing so far. No fish, no lizards, no snakes, frogs or toads (thank the gods), not even insects of the non-spidery variety. No gnats which was as odd as it was relieving.

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a spider in maybe half an hour.

Worrying. Or fortunate, depending on how paranoid I wanted to be. I decided on very, very paranoid. I checked up above me, even though there were no arches, pillars or even trees close by. Maybe spiders had learned how to fly. Mayb­–

“Eep!”

I sunk almost a full foot as I stumbled with one leg into a hole or the entry to an underwater cave or something. I panicked only mildly, wrenching my foot from under grasping wooden tendrils. The rotted roots gave away quickly as I lurched backwards, coming to a halt on both my feet. A realization that should have come to me a lot earlier hit me.

I can’t swim, not in armor. I’ll sink.

Gah! O-o-ok Rye, stay calm. Calm like–

I could still hear splishing and splashing after I’d stopped moving. Half a heartbeat passed.

Behind me.

I turned around.

The splashing was gone. Nothing was there.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just going crazy. I heard inhaling bog-vapors could make you see things, like lights or the beautiful sound of singing ladies. A rhyme came to mind, a sudden and vivid memory, as if heard through the voice of another paired with mine.

The lady of the Willowisp,

She sings within the bog,

Her voice divine, temptation crisp,

Don’t follow beyond the fog.

Yeah, I’m totally not creeped out now. Thanks, me. Is there any fog around? I probably can’t see it because it’s friggin DARK. Haha, I just gotta keep going, keep my head calm. Calm like the ocean.

I quietly hummed the to the tune of The lady of the Willowisp. It wasn’t helping.

Calm as a c-c-cucum…

I took a few steps, before something punched me in the shoulder. I stumbled. I didn’t fall.

Ow! Fu– what? Who? Where?

When I turned around, the darkness greeted me with silence.

A spider? A ghost? A Willowi-

I staggered back as something hit me again, this time from the front. A tingle and numbness went through my right arm, and I held it up to my face.

There’s an arrow in my shield.

I stared at it for longer than I reasonably should have.

There’s an arrow stuck in my shield.

I turned around and stomped away, a pit settling deep within my stomach.

Someone is trying to kill me.

I stopped around a gnarled tree and waited for any sound beside my labored breathing.

They won’t follow me this far, right? Not into the swamp, where there’s spiders and ghosts, right? Not me, not me, why me?

I have to fight them. I have to try them. C’mon Rye, be brave. They want to kill you. Face them. Don’t run. Don’t be afraid.

Then the splashing sounds returned.

Nope! Nopenopenopenope!

I set into a sprint, sloshing past odd tree stumps and against, then over hidden rocks on the swamp-floor. The swamp kept pulling me back and down. It felt like I was running with rocks tied to my legs and they got heavier with very step the more I resisted. I was barely moving forward.

I want out!

It felt like every single root in the entire gods-damned bog had conspired against me. They wrapped around my ankles, got stuck in my armor and bent my toes. Everything was muck, everything was bad, and I just ran, ran, ran.

I kept running for some time, my body up to my chest feeling like it was burning up from fighting against the constant resistance of everything around me. I couldn’t hear the splashing behind me over the sound of my own frantic movements, but I knew on a primal level that whatever it was, it was there.

Something was there and it was out to get me.

I need to get out, I need to run, I need – A rock! An island! Oh, gods, yes, gods an island!

I managed to scramble on to the relatively dry patch of land with the last of my strength. Panting and hacking, I coughed up some algae or plant root or something that had unfortunately found its way into the side of my mouth. The island was actually far larger than I initially thought it was, the shore stretching well beyond my vision in both directions.

I turned around to the distant sounds of splashing. Something was coming closer. I wanted to move. I willed my body to move, but it just didn’t. I stared into the darkness, ready to have my worst fears validated.

It was very dark. Dark enough to let my imagination run wild. Dark enough that I didn’t notice the long tendril wrapping around my shin until I there was a pull, a yank and I fell flat on my back.

Gah! Gods, what the fuck?

It tugged again and I was dragged a foot deeper into the muck, off the island.

It’s on my leg! Shitshitshit.

Another tendril wrapped itself around my shield-arm. They were coming from the water. I hacked at my shield arm, hitting something squishy over my armor. There was a muted shriek, blubbering beneath the tepid waters and I hacked and hacked again and again.

Die! Die! DIE! DIE! LET GO ALREADY!

I was almost through one tendril when it let go of my arm but tightened its grip on my legs. It had by now wrapped both of them together with another set of tendrils and the squeeze was making me feel ants running up and down their entire length.

Beware of fish.

It pulled again. My hips slipped beneath the water.

“LET! GO! LET! GO! MONS-AAH! NO! NONONO–IDONTWANNADIE!”

I flailed with wild abandon, absolutely, entirely, without a question convinced that I was going to die here and now. Dragged below stinking, rotting water and mud, alone, eaten by whatever abomination slept beneath.

Beware of fish.

Tears stung in my eyes, I hit my own leg a few times with my sword. There was splashing all around from my frenzied panic and between screams and sobs I just stabbed and cut and cut and stabbed.

“LET. GO. LET. ME. GO. LEGGO!”

It pulled and the water was at my chest. This was the end, and all because of one simple mistake: I did in fact not beware of the fish.

NOOOO! I-I don’t want to die, not like this, notlikethis! WHY WON’T YOU LET ME GO!?

“LE–“

It tugged at my whole body, tendrils creeping up to my stomach as it pulled my head and the rest of me, screaming and tearing, completely into the bog.