A pool of molten gold shimmered in the heart of the Divine Realm, casting radiant beams of light that pulsed rhythmically with a celestial hum. From the liquid light rose a figure—fragile, trembling, yet gradually solidifying into form. Aracnys opened her eyes, her thoughts a disjointed haze. She was awake, but nothing felt familiar.

This was her rebirth.

Golden light clung to her form as she attempted to stand, her limbs slow to respond, stiff as though they belonged to someone else. As she moved, a sharp sensation crept up her spine, and to her horror, she felt something—a weight at her back. She staggered, trying to turn, but her balance shifted unnaturally. In a panic, she reached behind her and felt them—long, thin, and sharp appendages.

Spider legs.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of the shimmering pool. What was this? What had happened to her? Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked up, her vision slowly focusing on three figures standing before her.

They radiated power—godlike, imposing, and utterly unfamiliar.

The God of Light and Order, Varis, stood at the center. His form was radiant, draped in gleaming armor that shimmered with the light of a thousand suns. His eyes, however, were calm and discerning as they fell upon her, as though he were studying her for the first time.

To his right, the Goddess of Water, Lyris, stood draped in flowing blue, her skin glistening like the surface of a still lake. Her face was serene, but her eyes reflected caution, as if she were measuring every movement Aracnys made.

The third figure, Myrika, the Goddess of Nature, exuded warmth and wildness all at once. Her hair was crowned with vines and flowers, and her gown seemed to ripple with life itself. Yet, there was a sharpness in her eyes, a curiosity not unlike a predator assessing its prey.

Aracnys' mind reeled, struggling to grasp the situation. The last thing she remembered... no, she couldn't remember. There was only a void. A great emptiness where her memories should have been. Her breath hitched as she managed to stand upright, her spider legs awkwardly folding and unfolding behind her. They were part of her—of that much, she was certain—but the reason why was lost to her.

"What... what is this?" she finally whispered, her voice shaky. "Where am I? And... why do I have these?" Her hands trembled as she gestured to the spider legs on her back, the alien limbs that moved with her, yet without her understanding.

For a long moment, the gods said nothing. Varis was the first to speak, his voice low but commanding, reverberating through the space like the tolling of a great bell.

"You are in the Divine Realm, Aracnys," he said, stepping forward. "You have been reborn."

"Reborn?" she echoed, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. She swallowed hard, glancing down at her hands, then back at the gods. "I don't understand... why am I here? What am I?"

Lyris moved closer, her expression softening as she regarded Aracnys' confusion.

"You were brought forth from the Abyss," Lyris explained, her voice as gentle as the waves of a quiet shore. "But you are as new to this realm as a newborn child. You may not yet understand your place among us."

Myrika's eyes glinted with amusement as she stepped around Varis, her voice carrying a playful tone.

"You ask why you have those," she said, gesturing to the spider legs with a smile. "But we ask the same question. You are unlike the others who have been reborn. We have never seen one of our kind with such... unique traits."

Aracnys' brow furrowed. The others? Others like her? Reborn? But none of it made sense. She pressed a hand to her chest, half-expecting to feel some memory return, something to explain why she was here—what she was. But there was only emptiness.

"Why... don't I remember anything?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking the question aloud would somehow make it more real.

Varis' expression remained stern, but his eyes softened slightly.

"Memories of your previous existence are not always carried forward into rebirth," he said. "What you were before... it no longer matters. What matters now is what you become."

"But... why do I feel so... strange?" she pressed, her fingers brushing against the spider legs again. They were cold, metallic almost, yet pulsing with some strange energy she didn't recognize. "What is this part of me? Is this normal for—"

"Normal?" Myrika interrupted with a chuckle. "Oh, little one, there is no such thing as 'normal' when it comes to us gods. Your form is your own, and it will reveal its meaning in time. But for now, we know as little about your nature as you do."

A shiver ran down Aracny's spine. They didn't know? How could that be? These were gods—surely, they would have answers. She took a step back, her spider legs shifting awkwardly behind her, the sensation still foreign and unsettling.

"You were chosen by the Abyss," Lyris said quietly, her eyes locking onto Aracny's. "That much is certain. The reason for your rebirth, and the purpose of your form, will unfold in time."

Varis turned away from her, pacing slightly as if deep in thought. "But until then," he said, "you must prove that you belong here. The Divine Realm does not harbor those who cannot bear the weight of divinity."

"Prove?" Aracny's felt her heart skip a beat. "How? I don't even understand what I am."

"You will be tested," Varis replied, his voice resolute. "Your strength, your will, your nature—everything will be revealed in time. Only then will you earn your place among us."

Aracny's felt a swirl of emotions—fear, confusion, frustration. She had no idea what powers lay within her, or even if she had any at all. The gods before her seemed so certain of their place, their purpose, while she remained lost in a sea of questions. But despite the uncertainty, one thing was clear: this was only the beginning.

Aracny's stood in stunned silence, her hands still trembling as she tried to make sense of everything the gods had told her. Reborn? A test? Spider legs? The entire situation felt impossible, yet there was no denying the strange reality in which she now found herself.

"Why was I chosen?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she were speaking more to herself than to the gods. "I don't feel… divine. I don't even know who I am."

Myrika chuckled softly, crossing her arms as she regarded Aracny's with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Ah, but that is the beauty of it, little one. You are a blank canvas, unburdened by the expectations of your past life. This is your chance to shape yourself, to discover your true potential."

Lyris' gaze softened, though she remained cautious.

"It is not uncommon for reborn gods to feel lost in the beginning," she said, her voice like a soothing current. "But make no mistake—divinity runs through your veins, even if you cannot yet feel it. The tests will help reveal what lies within you."

Varis remained silent, his eyes fixed on Aracny's with a deep, inscrutable expression. His presence felt like a weight pressing down on her, as though he were measuring her every breath, every hesitation. Finally, he spoke, his voice firm and steady.

"You will face three tests," Varis said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Each one will challenge a different aspect of your being. Strength. Will. Nature. Only those who succeed may walk among the gods."

Aracnys felt her heart race. "And if I fail?"

Varis' gaze darkened slightly.

"Then you will be cast out of the Divine Realm. Only those who prove their worth may remain here."

The words hit her like a cold wave of reality. She had no memory of her former self, no understanding of her powers, and now she was expected to prove her divinity? The spider legs on her back twitched, an unsettling reminder of the unknown nature of her form. How was she supposed to survive a test like this?

"I... I'm not ready," she said, her voice faltering. "I don't even know what I can do."

"None of us were ready when we first stood where you are," Myrika said with a sly smile. "But the test will show you what you're made of—whether you like it or not."

Lyris stepped forward, her expression soft but firm.

"Varis will test you first," she said. "He will challenge your strength—the core of your being. If you fail to withstand his trial, you will not move on to the others."

Aracnys swallowed hard, her throat tight with uncertainty. She felt like a child lost in a world of giants, and the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on her with an almost suffocating force. But there was no escape. Whatever this test was, she had to face it.

"Where do we begin?" she asked, her voice barely steady.

Varis turned and gestured to the horizon, where the golden light of the Divine Realm stretched endlessly in every direction.

"Follow me," he said. "The trial of strength awaits."

The light grew brighter as Aracnys followed Varis. It wasn't like the warm glow of the golden pool—this light was blinding, harsh, and unyielding. The further they walked, the more intense it became, until it felt as though her skin was burning under its glare.

"Where... where are we going?" Aracnys asked, shielding her eyes as the brightness became overwhelming.

Varis did not answer immediately. Instead, he stopped at the edge of a vast, open plain where the light shone so fiercely that it seemed to erase every shadow, every ounce of darkness. There was no place to hide, no relief from the oppressive glow.

"This is the Realm of Light," Varis said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Here, shadows cannot exist. Darkness is consumed. You will face your first test in this realm—a trial of endurance."

Aracnys' heart sank. The light was unbearable, and her body felt weak under its intensity. The spider legs on her back twitched and trembled, as if they, too, were struggling to withstand the brightness. She could barely move, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"How... how am I supposed to survive this?" she asked, her voice strained.

Varis turned to her, his expression unreadable.

"Strength is not only measured in physical power," he said. "It is the ability to endure, to adapt, to bend without breaking. Here, you will find out if you have that strength."

Aracnys felt panic rise in her chest. She was weak. She knew it. She couldn't even control the strange spider limbs on her back, and now she was expected to survive in a place where even shadows couldn't exist? She felt the crushing weight of defeat before the trial had even begun.

Varis raised his hand, and the light around them began to pulse, growing even brighter.

"Your trial begins now," he said simply.

In an instant, the light exploded, enveloping everything in its blinding embrace. Aracnys screamed as the heat pressed down on her, the light searing her skin and filling her lungs with fire. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, her vision fading into a white blur.

The gods watched her closely, their expressions unreadable. Myrika leaned in slightly, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

"Do you think she will make it?" Lyris whispered.

Myrika shrugged. "It's too soon to tell. She has the Abyss in her veins, but whether it will save her or consume her remains to be seen."

Aracnys felt as though she were being torn apart. The light was everywhere, burning into her skin, her bones, her very soul. Her spider legs twitched uncontrollably, struggling to find purchase on the smooth, blinding ground.

"I... can't... breathe..." she gasped, her hands clawing at the air.

But despite the agony, something deep within her stirred. A faint, distant presence—like a shadow lurking just beyond the reach of the light. It was barely noticeable, a flicker of something dark and cold, but it was there.

She didn't know what it was, but she clung to it with everything she had.

As she focused on that tiny flicker, the pain in her chest began to ease, just slightly. Her breathing became more steady, though the heat still pressed down on her like a heavy weight. The shadows within her—the darkness of the Abyss—were fighting against the light, pushing back in small, delicate strands.

But it wasn't enough.

The gods watched her closely, their expressions hardening. Varis' eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the faint struggle within her.

"She is persistent," Lyris murmured, her gaze fixed on Aracnys. "But is it enough?"

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The pain continued to surge through Aracnys' body, each wave of light more unbearable than the last. She gritted her teeth, every muscle screaming in protest as she fought to stay conscious. The heat was overwhelming, the brightness suffocating—but that flicker of darkness remained, small but present, like a distant beacon in a storm.

Aracnys focused on it, clinging to the sensation, trying to draw strength from it. She could feel the faintest tug of power beneath the surface, though it was far from enough to overcome the overwhelming light surrounding her. Her spider legs twitched involuntarily, scraping against the smooth, luminous ground, as if they too were searching for a way to escape.

She felt weak, fragile—far from the goddess they expected her to be. But there was something inside her that refused to give up, something deeper than her confusion or fear. It was instinctual, primal.

With a trembling breath, she dug her hands into the ground, feeling the harsh warmth of the light beneath her fingers. For a moment, she almost let go, almost gave in to the unbearable pressure of the trial. But something stopped her.

"I… won't… break," she whispered, barely audible, but the words carried weight, even if only to herself.

Myrika, watching from the edge of the trial space, raised an eyebrow.

"Look at that," she mused, a hint of a smile on her lips. "She's not quite ready to surrender."

Varis remained silent, his eyes locked onto Aracnys, his expression unreadable. Lyris, however, leaned forward slightly, concern creeping into her normally serene face.

"She's enduring more than I expected," Lyris said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the surrounding light. "But if she doesn't find her strength soon…"

The goddess trailed off, but the unspoken implication hung heavy in the air.

Aracnys, gasping for breath, fought through the haze of light. She felt as if her body was crumbling under the strain, but that small flicker of darkness within her pulsed again, stronger this time. The abyss—it was a part of her, even if she didn't fully understand it yet.

Her spider legs jerked once more, their movements sharp and uncoordinated, but she forced them into the ground. The legs dug deep, creating small but distinct shadows in the blinding light. It was barely noticeable, but in those pockets of darkness, she found a brief moment of relief.

The pressure eased, if only for a moment.

The gods exchanged glances. Varis watched Aracnys closely, noting the change in her stance, the slight but undeniable shift in her energy.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Aracnys' breath came in ragged gasps, but her mind was clearer now. She could feel the abyss stirring, answering her call. The light still burned, but she was beginning to understand. The shadows were hers—small and fragile, but they were hers to command.

The light around her seemed to grow even more intense, as if reacting to her defiance. It pressed down harder, suffocating her in its brilliance, but Aracnys no longer felt the same overwhelming fear. She was still weak, still unsure of what she was, but something inside her had awakened.

"I… won't… break," she repeated, louder this time. Her voice was shaky, but it carried a force that surprised even her.

The shadows her spider legs had created were small, but in that darkness, she found strength. The abyss was not merely chaos or destruction—it was a force that thrived in the absence of light. It was cold, calculating, and persistent, just as she was.

Aracnys closed her eyes, focusing inward, searching for that flicker of power. The spider legs twitched, responding to her will, and she felt a connection to something deeper—a force that had always been there, just beyond her reach.

She wasn't fighting the light. She was enduring it. She was bending, not breaking. And in that, she found the key to her survival.

As the light continued to pulse, Aracnys began to move. Slowly at first, her body still weak and unsteady, but each step was deliberate, each movement controlled. The spider legs dug deeper into the ground, anchoring her as she rose to her feet.

The gods watched in silence.

Myrika's grin widened, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"She's figuring it out," she whispered, almost to herself.

Lyris, though still cautious, nodded in agreement.

"She's adapting," the goddess murmured. "But she's not through the trial yet."

Varis remained silent, his expression unreadable, though his gaze never left Aracnys.

The light flared once more, but this time, Aracnys did not falter. She braced herself, her spider legs holding her steady, and the shadows around her grew, ever so slightly, as she channeled the abyss within. The darkness was hers to control, and with it, she could survive.

For the first time since the trial began, Aracnys felt a surge of determination.

She wouldn't fail.

The light bore down on her, unrelenting, but Aracnys pressed forward. Her steps were slow, her body still weak, but she moved with purpose. Each step brought more control, more understanding of the strange power within her. The abyss responded to her will, creating small pockets of darkness that shielded her from the blinding light.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Varis watched her progress with a critical eye, his arms folded across his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that she was struggling, but there was also no denying her resilience. The trial was far from over, but she had already proven something—whether to herself or to them, he wasn't sure.

Aracnys took another step, her breath steady, her mind clear. The light still pressed against her, but it no longer felt as suffocating. The abyss within her was growing stronger, and with it, her resolve.

She wasn't sure how long the trial would last, but she knew one thing for certain:

She would not break.

The gods remained silent as Aracnys continued to push through the trial, her spider legs anchoring her to the ground, her shadows shielding her from the worst of the light. She was far from mastering her power, but she was beginning to understand it. The abyss was her ally, not her enemy.

For now, that was enough.