Many years had passed since then, twelve years to be proper, and even still, Bemril's death remained fresh on Arachne's conscience in both her dreams and daydreams, still enduring as an abscessed memory. And as painful as it was, the young heiress still knew that she could shed no tears and show no trembling limbs when she woke. Instead, she had to continue her facade of serenity and hide her skepticism towards the violent and murderous ways of the drow, despite the fact that her hands, too, were bloodstained with that of her kin.
Rising from her bed, now sporting that of an adult's body, and the body she would keep for her remaining centuries on the world, Arachne retreated to her lavatory that was connected to the stone chiseled cavern that she had learned to call her room, in which she ran her hair long, smooth pale hair under water and bathed herself in a wooden tub, allowing the cold water to soothe her from the nightmare before, closing her lavender eyes, now darkened from knowledge of the world that she had seen within her short nineteen years of life.
The nightmare she had had found herself submerged in the night before was not dissimilar to the others Arachne had over the past twelve years of anything short of tribulation, started with her and a knife. Grasped in her now mature fingers, she held in with her mother grasping on the hilt with her, before she embedded her small pocket knife into Bemril's heart. His screams echoing through the entire Underdark endlessly, only terminating when Arachne, perplexed and scared, a sheet of sweat coating her darkened features, jerked upwards in her bed.
But the young drow elf decided to not dwell on such things, as some day in the nearing future she would receive the ability that was so cherished by her race, including that of the lighter skinned variety, known as the Reverie, although those who were unaware of their culture called it the trance. And what that entailed was her acquisition of her previous life's memories, that Arachne would continue to witness until she turned one hundred, and would be able to recall her own memories through the Reverie. Although it was quite ironic, for the fact that the drow tried so hard to turn away their surface brethren's culture and ceremonies, and yet some things remained the same. One example being the fact that the Reverie was still even acknowledged was a miracle in of itself considering the hatred towards the entirety of their light-skinned kin. However, the more showcased, more different side between the two races still remained, making them ultimately different. For instance, the adult age for the drow was considered to be at twenty five, while the age for the surface elves remained one hundred when the Reverie began to become more personal to the bearer.
With all that aside, Arachne, as she pondered, proceeded through her routine with ease, as it was rather simple, also, in understanding that she would be helping Matron Aunerae with her preparation before the next sacrifice, and would be witnessing said sacrifice, she understood and anticipated that she would need to be the showcase of power. And this was for the simple reason that she had not seen her mother in about ten years, and instead had been focusing on her clerical studies, and her mother being rather focused on her own duties of Matron Mother. It wasn't an oddity for drow children to not see their parents often, and it was strange enough that Arachne was seeing her mother in such a short timespan since the last time she had seen her, as most drow elves only saw their parents once every one hundred fifty years or so.
So as she ventured forth into the dreary halls of House Coborial, Arachne had not been expecting to see a malnourished and frail young boy run up to her and look up at her with fearful crimson eyes. He spoke in a meek tone of voice, most likely due to the whipping that he would more than likely go through on a daily basis from his faction's priestess in the House. "Matron Aunerae is calling you to the council chamber, ma'am."
Looking down at the boy and suppressing a reassuring smile, or what she understood to be a reassuring gesture, but nonetheless Arachne understood that if she were to give a lower born such a look, it would bring disgrace to their already rocky image. "Dismissed." the drow elf commented sourly, a facade she was quite skilled at raising since she began questioning her community's gruesome ways.
As the boy ran off with bare feet, blistered from the warm sulfur springs the House was located near, and for the fact that younger boys, to test their constitution and drive. The weak died from the heat, while the strong or mildly disturbed were given unspoken respect and honor from those in the lower-born classes. This was one of the many reasons why the Coborials remained the most powerful House, as they subjected their warriors to the harshest trials, and forced fear down their throat should they make even a minor mistake.
When she made her way to the council chamber, deciding to not worry about the possibility of her own sacrifice, or that she could be in any punishable state, she instead allowed her mind to focus on her face, which needed to remain still and dignified, while also showcasing grace and terrifying beauty. As such was expected of all females, even those such as Arachne who had seen far too much at far too young.
Opening the large double doors leading into the council chambers, the drow elf stood up straight, hands folded behind her, as there sat the High Council of Abburth, the first five Houses of the city, and therefore the most powerful in their vicinity. That included Arachne's House, Coborial, House Kilsek, House Vandree, House Telenna, and the recently appointed fifth, House Eilservs. Each of their Matrons and the eldest daughters sat there, each beside their mothers, each sitting with auras of power emitting from them.
Taking a seat beside Matron Aunerae, she nodded her head in apology before allowing the meeting to continue, in which her mother began it with a stern remark of annoyance, confusement laced with these words. "The entire city's women lost their clerical powers. I have a dreaded feeling that the buffoon of a human prophet we found a few decades ago was right."
This was in reference to a strange, crazed, old human man that had been found limping about the Underdark caverns near Abburth, and when he had been met by a drow expedition party, one of which Arachne's now eldest brother, Xarann was a part of. He took note of all he said, which was just one line, repeated before he suddenly fell dead from the sulfur plaguing his lungs. "The time when They come to the world of mortals, one cycle's time." All just assumed he meant nothing, and was simply spouting nonsensical spatter in his last moments, but it appeared as if it could be connected to the strange occurrence now.
"So the 'they' he spoke of was the Gods? Or just Lolth? And what did he mean by 'one cycle', one cycle of Mystérieuse, or of a surfacer's year?" Matron Nathrae Telenna inquired, flaunting her knowledge of magic and prophecies, due to her successful wizard sons, one even being the Head Teacher of the wizard's school, Gloufmarth.
"I can send out spies to the surface to see what state their dreaded clerics are in." Matron Haelra Kilsek offered, mentioning her well developed spy and informant networks, a subtle reminder of her eyes and ears about and around all of them, red eyes gleaming with dominance upon the Council.
Matron Aunerae nodded, "Good. And I will send expeditions of clerics and warriors to the other main cities to discuss how we might find our Queen if she has, in fact, become mortal." Impulsive nods of approval followed her mother's remark, in fear that she would destroy them for a simple incorrect move. Arachne knew she wouldn't, it was far too risky in the state of things in the world at the time.
~
And there the Time of Troubles began, and should anyone alive at the time think that the surface world had a time of chaos and death follow the time in which the Gods themselves, the very glue that held the world together, fell down to the mortal world, they would have been driven mad by the pandemonium caused in the Underdark. As a community brought about by murder, those who did take the opportunity to destroy their upper Houses in their weakened states would soon find that the power they found themselves in would be stripped from them when the Time of Troubles ended.
My family, we were in a constant state of panic, as we had been in that situation before, without Lolth and alone. We survived, just barely, and remained up at the top of the hierarchy, and after we regained Her favor, anyone who ever doubted us soon found themselves dead in their beds. This was all before my birth, but the instance of the phenomena, it caused so many things to be brought into motion that I could not fathom when it all began. It shaped my very being now, a century later.