The night was filled with sharp tension and flickering firelight. The Mages had captured this lesser fey days before, binding her in enchanted chains that burned at her flesh whenever she moved. Her long red legs twitched in agony, her bulbous abdomen bobbing uncontrollably as they prepared their tools—flint knives and glass jars, all ready to carve her body apart for their magical ingredients. Each click of their instruments sent a wave of dread through her, the rows of black eyes of her gaze flicking toward them, but helpless to stop what was coming.

 

Angerona had communicated with them in clicks and hisses, but they ignored her pleas. Her squeaks of surprise and fear only seemed to excite them further, discussing the potency of her venom and the magical properties her stingers and webbing could provide.

 

Then, in the stillness of the night, Gytha appeared.

 

The first warning was a faint hum in the air, a ripple of power that made the torches sputter and dim. One of the Mages noticed it too late, turning just in time to see a figure step from the shadows. Her brown skin glistened in the firelight, her unnaturally still presence striking a sharp contrast against the chaos of the camp. She said nothing at first, only staring, eyes dark and filled with something ancient, as if the very weight of the world hung in her gaze.

 

Then she spoke, her voice gutteral and cutting, "I am the silence before the storm."

 

The Mages immediately called upon their magic, flinging fire and lighining at her. Gytha gracefully danced away from their attacks. Then she barred her teeth and hissed at them. A wave of terror washed over them and they fell to their knees before her, unable to resist her any longer. They whimpered, cowered and begged. Angerona watched in awe, her clicks quieting as the Mages covered their heads in a vane attempt to protect themselves, their power rendered useless before the might of the Fey.

 

Gytha approached the spider, her movements slow and deliberate, not out of caution but certainty. She cut the enchanted chains binding Angerona with a savage slash of her claws, the magic dissipating like smoke as soon as the metal was broken.

 

“You don’t belong here,” Gytha said, her voice quiet but firm. Angerona, though large and fearsome, cowered for a moment, unsure of this Fey's intentions. But then, as Gytha gently touched one of her red legs, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety, seeping into her like a cool salve.

 

Gytha turned back to the Mages, who still struggled against their fear, their eyes wide and tears staining their faces. They realized the Fey had no mercy to offer them. In a cold, emotionless voice, Gytha spoke a single word, and raising her hand she summoned forth shards of ice to rain downn upon them. The Mages were silenced, their bodies crushed beneath the weight of the ice, disappearing into the soil like they had never existed.

 

Gytha turned back to the lesser fey that she had freed and extended her hand out to her in an invation to join her. Angerona did not know where this creature would take her, but she trusted that she would keep her safe. She climbed onto Gytha's back and wrapped her long legs around the stocky torso as Gytha shifted back into the haze and ran off into the woods.