Since the proposal, it had been a year like no other, as Arachne had felt herself growing even closer with Amalica, something she valued greatly, and since that fateful day upon the surface land, in a place known to her very well, it had seemed as if the two of them had began to share a bond that had been forging itself to be as unmoving as stone, something to stand the test of time. And thus far, it had become as such, something that she saw many couples within the community of Cell Maccis whispering about, and even Mother Maccis had made a very kind remark about the nature of their relationship.
However, as perplexing as it was, the two of them had not managed to begin any preparations, or even discuss, their wedding, which had been something that they had been wistfully dreaming about a decade into their relationship, for Arachne had been training for something she had been planning to begin for some time now, and her declaration of sorts was set for that very date. It felt almost glorifying to her, for it would be the final line cut from her life before, and she would truly begin to unfurl in complete freedom in the hands of Eilistraee.
For her time as a Moon Singer was near, and all she was meant to do was stand in front of the altar and receive a blessing from Mother Maccis, something of the highest regard, but also something of a certain degree of anxiety. You would write your vows to Eilistraee and vocalize them to the congregation, as each singer and dancer would be praised for the individuality they would done, and how they would interpret the word of the Lady in different ways and forms; akin to how different styles of music and dance would light up another's heart in distinct ways. As such why the anointment was stressful to some, although those with undoubtable charisma such as Amalica, and many others, had little trouble vocalizing their promises to the Lady of Dance.
To Arachne, it was less of the anxiety that would be brought to her when she walked upon the altar and spoke her vows, but it was the very prospect of swearing herself to someone she had once thought to be her worst enemy; someone who had gotten her brother killed. She harbored no hatred for the goddess any longer, but for a time, she found herself wondering why she sat on the pews of the temple without Bemril beside her, jabbing at her with his elbows playfully, a grin on his face she had never seen, but could somehow imagine. For a time she wondered why Eilistraee couldn't protect him from his very own sister.
It felt almost dirty to swear herself to a goddess that she had once blamed for one of the most traumatic experiences in her life, but she had to remind herself quite often that she had been in an oppressive world, where should she have expressed any skepticism of any kind, her execution would have been immediate. Arachne recognized that, for one of the first moments in her life, she had a choice in what she could believe and how she could act, and the lick of freedom that she so cherished in those moments, the very moments she was living out then, was there to symbolize how far she had come.
She had kept Bemril in mind as she prepared herself for the service, reading over her carefully written vows on a piece of paper that had been turned over in sweaty hands a thousand times over before the main sermon had even begun, and it had only worsened as time went on. Arachne prayed with the congregation, but her attention was set elsewhere before it refocused at hurried inner reminders that she would be fine, and that even should she make even the biggest mistake, she would not have been condemned for it.
So when Arachne heard her name being called by the ethereal voice of Mother Maccis, she stood from the farthest most pew from the altar, and began to walk the well-carpeted isles in between her friends, acquaintances, and even those she had yet to meet, her palms held together as she held her head low in reverence to the very symbol of Eilistraee's church that was being showcased for her blessing. Even as she walked, she could hear a small whisper of good tidings from the pew Amalica, Tris, Ristil, and Kal shared with a few others, a smile lifting up her features.
As she reached the edge of the altar, she gazed upwards upon the sigil, the same design being laid upon it as the necklace that had been given to her by the Lady of Dance during the long months she had spent in the Underdark, a bastard sword in the center of a moon. Arachne kept her palms together even as Mother Maccis spoke, her eyes containing some form of the disturbing fire she had experienced two years prior, although less intimidating than before.
She then began to speak in a language unknown to her, something that sounded as if it was based from elvish, its accent remaining somewhat similar, even if Mother Maccis spoke it poorly, which to native speakers she no doubt did, it still sounded beautiful. To some, it must have sounded like the language of the Gods for how enrapturing it was, and she was only caught out of her spell when she reverted back to Undercommon, their own native tongue. "You may speak your vows to the children of Eilistraee, Arachne Coborial."
Arachne lowered hands, allowing them to relax at her side, a small smile adorning her face as she did so, taking small deep breaths as she resisted the urge to fiddle with her engagement ring, something she had found to be quite a novelty to stare at with star-struck expression on her face. Alighting the steps of the altar itself, she made her way to the podium at the side of it, correcting her posture and allowing herself to stand tall in the face of her community, one of which she would finally be a full member of.
Opening her mouth to speak was brief, as the large double doors of the temple were shoved open by a sudden force, a wild-eyed Dark Hunter pushing his way through, someone of whom Arachne could not place the name of, his crimson eyes wide in fear and desperation, blood slowly trickling downwards from the side of his shaven head. As if he was a shining beacon, everyone's heads wheeled around forcefully to look at him as he stumbled through from his momentum, his voice hoarse as he spoke.
"We're under attack!" He called, Mother Maccis immediately rushing from the altar, her robes billowing behind her, eyes resetting as she did so, meeting the man halfway through as he slouched over, her hands grasping onto the sides of his face as their foreheads touched; something to soothe him, Arachne thought. The hunter spoke in a hurried voice, breathless but still audible all the way across the temple itself. "There was a gnome, looking for you, Mother," he recalled, the drow elf beginning to make her way from the altar as she heard him speak, her honest eyes wide and dilated in the same fear she was sure the man felt, "b-but an arrow was shot through him. And I saw a woman, a priestess of Lolth, a-and I ran!"
Arachne felt something in her snap, and, shoving Mother Maccis out of the way, she grabbed the man by the shoulders, breathing heavily as the memories of her vision swarmed back to her, "Were you on the path to Ithilaughym?" The sternness in her voice caught everyone in the room of guard as Mother stood to the side, slightly appalled, but the man was as stunned as his counterparts, so she gave him a shake, her face twitching. "Come on, man! For the love of Eilistraee answer me!"
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and wheeling around, she saw it to be Tris, who looked at her with gentle eyes, as if she didn't know what was to come, which, in hindsight, she probably did not. "Calm down. The temple is safe."
Arachne grabbed onto her hand that lay on her shoulder, brushing it off of her with a crazed look in her eyes, squeezing onto it as she felt her voice reach a sudden uproar of fear, unsteadiness, and anger. "There is no 'safe,' when it comes to the rest of our kind! Gods, we need to run! They're after us. After us all!" She screamed breathlessly, no doubt looking desperate, if not haunted.
"But, Arachne–"
"There are no 'buts,' Tris! You know just as well as I do what they're going to do to us. To all of us if we don't run." Arachne turned fearfully to the rest of the congregation, her eyes wide as her head moved from left and right sporadically, only to see the standing figures of her fellows looking at her as if she was insane.
It was then she realized that the life of solitude and joy that she had found to enjoy had somehow made them feel as if nothing could possibly ever occur to them that could jeopardize the wellbeing of their very souls and lifestyle, and that, even if some had known what the horrors of drow society did to some, they would have left it at such a young age that they could never have truly experienced it. Arachne, perhaps Amalica, and the former librarian, who had been sent to a different cell, had been the only ones who truly had lived through all of the hell that was the Spider Queen's society.
And now She was coming for them all.
At that very same moment, an arrow flew across the expanse of the open temple door, hovering in the air with exact precision, but that accuracy had sent Mother Maccis to the floor, sputtering up blood as she held on desperately to the arrow's pole as if it was the only thing keeping her alive, even if it was lodged into her throat. Every man, woman, and child looked upon the floor in horror, whilst Amalica fell to her side, her hands like sparrows as she attempted to do anything to save the priestess, even if she couldn't bring herself to touch the woman, even as the life drained from her eyes and they went still.
However, there wasn't much time for silence, as almost immediately, the people around her, save for very few, immediately began to scream and demand one thing of those who knew how to fight to begin a siege upon their attackers, and even if Arachne attempted to speak over them, she was but one voice amongst many, and almost all of those voices were demanding violence, not knowing even a sliver of what pain they would undergo in return of failure. She had to attempt and reassure herself, though, that their fighting force could possibly outmaneuver that of a drow expedition force, but even still the drow elf thought for the worst.
What if her mother had traced her back to the Dawn Guard? What if the whole reason Mother Maccis died was because Arachne had run away from her home?
Despite this, she had made her way through the crowd to Amalica, Ristil, and Kal, Tris already behind her, begging her not to panic, as well as trying to speak over the rest of their fellows, although half of the temple had already been departed from, save for a few sensible mothers who held their children close to them, each one of them still staring at the still body of the priestess on the floor, staining the already red color and even deeper shade of the color itself.
Kal, who was twelve at the present date, looked up at his father, his eyes dreadfully innocent, something akin to Durdyn's, although they held no physical resemblance whatsoever. "What will we do now, dad? I'm scared." He grabbed onto Ristil's hand, looking at Arachne's wild eyes, who attempted to soften them as she realized his own panic was being mostly caused by her own.
Ristil turned to both Amalica and Arachne, as her fiance had rushed to her side from that of Mother Maccis', who was clearly dead and beyond aid, her own trembling hands being revealed to her as she did so, clearly illustrating her fear of what was to come, "You know these people. What do we do?"
"Arachne says we need to run, and I agree with her. We need to run to the surface. It's the only place they can't chase us if the sun is out. It'll hurt, but it's our best chance." Amalica remarked loudly, but still only loud enough for the immediate company to hear because of the commotion, the rest of the crowd still storming out of the temple. "I hate to leave all of them here, but they've chosen their path, and we can't stop them. The families here who want to follow us can, but otherwise, I don't know what will happen to everyone else."
Ristil nodded, standing atop one of the seats of the pews, exclaiming with his loudest voice to mostly the children and parents who still were in the church, but as well as any of the rampaging townsfolk that were still in the temple that could care to listen, even as they were arming themselves to the utmost. "The only way we can escape this is going to the surface! They won't follow us there!" He called, and Arachne, gratefully saw a few heads turn from the pews, but none in the crowd, "If you want to live, follow us!"
There were only four families that seemed to have heard them, and even still, three consisted of only one parent, and only one had both, but there was only one child to each of the groups, but nonetheless, it seemed as if it was the best they could do. All Arachne knew was that they would need to utilize the crowd in the temple still funneling out, and she watched attentively as Amalica led them hurriedly through the backdoor of the temple, typically used for the choir or performers, but on that day it would be their salvation, something to keep her safe in spite of whatever was to occur.
Arachne took the rear of the formation, ensuring that each person had made it out of the temple before she even dared to go through, for she had a better chance than any of them of making it alive through any torture the drow would subject any survivers through, on account for the constant pain tolerance training she had received in her youth, including spending time in an Iron Maiden. She would rather be forced to go through those horrible methods again then feel the guilty shroud of knowing that there was a person she could have saved being thrown into a world worse than death.
Passing through the door, they all began to run, some of the younger children losing their footing, and as such they were carried on the adult's backs, Arachne being lucky enough to half a dainty three-year-old girl riding on her back as if she was a mounted giant lizard, save for the fact that she felt her hair being pulled by the child trying to add more stability to the ride. That was near impossible, however, due to the rush of adrenaline that had been keeping almost every single one of them from not tiring.
Tris had instructed all of the children to cover their ears, especially those such as the girl who rode upon Arachne's back, for they were far too young to hear what ensued for the people that they had grown up with. For despite that they were farther away from the community, far enough away to not be detected by the already fighting, and winning, drow group, they could hear the blood curdling screams of the untainted as they breathed their last, or perhaps even as their pain was drawn out for the sadistic joy of the priestesses and warriors.
The clashing of swords drew ever nearer as they began to reach their destination, and the screams louder, more clear, to the point that you could distinguish voices amongst the mess of them, close friends, and even to some, family, such as Ristil's parents, who had been swept up by the mob no doubt, could be heard. Arachne could tell the strain in each of their strides as they attempted to pay little notice to it, but she knew as well as anyone that it would never be the case, and that even if they made it out alive, they would be forever changed.
The surface would never accept them. Why would they? All they would see are gray elves, and they would eventually make up some scheme that they would be a part of, marking their downfall. It was a truth to shatter dreams, even if a change could be made.
They began to slow their pace to attempt to lighten their footsteps, although there was little use for it, as fatigue was slowly wearing away at them, for each one carried a burden, some a child, and others what weapons they could find, some both, each of their strides heavy the moment their soles hit the floor. Arachne wasn't exempt from it whatsoever, as she even managed to keep a sword wrapped messily into her belt, something she had to silently adjust as it slipped down very often due to her running and the weight of a child above her.
However, the weight above her seemed to have gotten heavier as she felt the child slump down from her position, a dribble of blood dripping down onto her face before the girl was sent backwards as her hold relinquished, falling to the ground and onto her side, where an arrow was lodged into her skull. Arachne's eyes widened as she saw the bleeding figure on the ground, watching as about six or seven drow seemed to catch onto their tale.
Walking backwards and looking back for a moment before looking forward again, she called to the front, "Hey, guys, we've got company!" Arachne exclaimed, drawing her sword, just as she had when she had slain Kethan many years prior to the current date, trying to avert her eyes from the corpse below her as she wiped the blood of the child from the side of her face, a ridiculously messy smear remaining.
The moment she called out, she saw Ristil charge from the front, blacksmith's hammer in hand, as well as Amalica who came in with a rapier that had been taken from a pile of weapons they had found further back on the path, two of the men from the other families also ran to aid in combat with mauls in their grasp, while Tris opted to stay behind, holding twin daggers to defend the women who had prioritized carrying their children, and as such carried no weapons, as well as their children, including Kal.
And all of a sudden they were on them like insects.
Arachne had been surrounded by two at once, who fought in unison with one another. Arachne had decided to take a defensive approach, angling her sword so as to block most of any incoming blow, and it appeared as if she was right to do so because she had been sent backwards by two twinned strikes at once at frightening speed. Responding, she set her blade in a reaping fashion, marring the taller of the pair across the stomach, causing him to back out for a brief moment. That was all she needed so as to handle the shorter one, and hopefully kill him.
She and the warrior clashed swords for many moments, the clink of steel echoing throughout the cavern, before she managed to find a weak point in his defenses, drawing her sword through him before kicking his body backwards and out of her sword, turning to his counterpart. He ran at her with vigor, but with enough to seem foolish, as she quickly deflected his blow with the blunt side of her sword before drawing back for a killing blow.
With her two opponents dead, it offered her a brief moment before more came upon her to view the surrounding area, and the confrontations those around her were facing. Arachne already saw all four of the fathers from the other families on the ground and bleeding out, either Amalica or Ristil standing over them as they continued their assaults even as more came through.
Running towards the flank of one of Amalica's opponents, Arachne drove her sword through his back at the same time her fiance had sent the head of her rapier through the eye of one of the men in front of her, doubling back to kick another in the stomach. The former heiress then managed to catch the attention of another one of the four men surrounding her love, dropping her shoulder and making a grand swipe of the blade and mustering the strength to remove his head from his shoulders.
Arachne managed to pull a dagger from the side of one of the fallen as they felt gravity's pull on them, brandishing it as she ran towards one of Ristil's opponents on the other end of the cavern. Allowing her sword to be blocked by the pure force of the scimitar against it, she held her shoulder low as she brought the dagger through the warrior's stomach, twisting the hilt before she brought it out, a spurt of blood catching her cream shirt.
Shooting Ristil a brief grin, the two of them, just as they were about to begin to take their leave from the battlefield, all of a sudden there was a cyclopean booming noise, followed by the horrifying sound of burning embers and the pained screams of women and children. Arachne's heart sank as she spared herself a moment to make a brief glance towards that end, she realized a wizard had set off a fireball. She was barely able to make out charred figures in the ashen debris.
Tearing her head away from the sight and returning to the battle and cutting her sword across the face of another drow, she saw it in Risitl's eyes that he had seen it happen, and it was only for a moment that his eyes sunk before they turned bloodshot and desperate, screaming impossibly loud in agony as he began to swing his hammer around like a madman. At that very same moment, both Arachne and Amalica were swarmed by more drow, and, running towards each other, they covered each other's flanks, they managed to cut their way through them, blood spatter decorating their faces, tears and dirt beginning to make themselves known.
She felt her vision begin to blur for that very reason, tears building at her waterline, and blinking quickly, Arachne let them fall, soon enough to see Ristil facing off with a drow man with poison dripping from his scimitars, his chest being cut almost in two with the sheer force of the blow, falling to the ground. The thud that she couldn't hear seemed to reverberate in her mind for a moment before she took one look at the swarm of drow soldiers and took hold of Amalica's hand and began to run.
She shoved her fiance in front of her as they ran up the cave, seeing the fluorescent vines of the cave entrance so close in sight, praying that they would be able to reach it in time and reach the solace of the painful sunlight in order to live, to be the last legacy of Cell Maccis, however unhappy it was. However, her hopes fell apart when she heard the horrible sound of cracking earth and magical words being uttered as she felt the very ground before her crumble.
"Arachne! I got you!" Amalica screamed, desperately reaching for her hand before grabbing onto her, pulling her in as they began to fall into the depths of the Underdark, and even if she could see past the tears that blocked her vision, she wouldn't have wanted to on account that she truly feared death.
There would be no Goddess to save her now.