Chapter Text

Arachnophobia

Prologue

“Oh no,” Vesk moaned out, looking at the frame of perfectly made metal as it sparked, the rectangular space enclosed by it sparking with energy. That door was most certainly never, ever supposed to be activated. Which, of course, was the reason why that particular door was the one currently brimming with malevolent energies that even he was cautious of.

And he was a god.

“Think Vesk! That doorway connects to a tier four grimdark universe. Nothing good can possibly be coming through,” he narrated aloud, pacing frantically at the end of the hallway. The solution was obvious: he ought to call the Pantheon immediately. What came through could be a threat on par with an Elder God. The possible damage was limitless, his own safety compromised. He had collected the gateways precisely to stop this from happening. The leftover creations of the Elder Gods, the gateways connected to alternate realities where some of their favorite stories were real. They had also used them for practical purposes, such as stealing technology they were too lazy to innovate themselves. The blind fools.

Their disgusting hubris had been of unimaginable scope for the absolutely wasteful ends. Creating technology that just by existing created a risk of being invaded by beings of similar power just so they could watch and rewatch their favorite stories time and again for eon after eon. That was why he had kept them. As a reminder.

Yet he really, really didn’t want to spend the next few centuries having Avei and Omnu lord it over him after he had argued so passionately for containing them this way. Assuming they survived, that was. But why plan for being dead?

He instead called one of the most powerful and least likely to rat him out members of the Pantheon.

“Hey Vem? Buddy, I’ve got this very strange space-time interaction going on over here and I was wondering if you could take a look at it. You get this stuff better than I do, you know?”

“Did you really just try to brush me off with ‘not enough time’?”

“Well yes, and I said I was sorry, but admit it, frankly it worked out great and the history books are much more entertaining for it.”

“No I don’t think it’s stable at all. I’d really prefer you come now.”

As the words left his mouth he felt the telltale presence of another of the Pantheon requesting access to his space. Not that any of them really needed to or had to, but it was the polite thing to do. He slapped the approval aside and Vemnesthis appeared next to him.

“Oh my. I don’t think that is normal function for one of the doorways,” Vemnesthis said placidly.

Vesk stared at him. “You think?”

“It appears to be being accessed from the other side, but not by the proper protocols. Like something is fumbling around trying to blindly fit a key into a latch,” the god of time replied.

Vesk, god of bards and not god of transcension field mechanics, grimaced at the idea. The crackling energies filling the doorframe jumped back and forth, nearly extinguished in one moment to raging full the next and back again. It was impossible, for him at least, to predict whether they were moments away from a successful connection or if the intruder was ready to give up.

He sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas that don’t involve battle stations?”

Vemnesthis shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid not, my friend. If I tamper with it I’m worried I’m just as likely to help the connection than stop it.”

Vesk spat bitterly, “Those fuckers would have found yet another way to ruin my day after being dead for millenia.”

There was nothing for it. He would take dealing with the others being annoying smug for a few centuries over repeating the mistakes of the people he hated the most. Even eight thousand years had only done so much to cool him down.

“Right. Can you at least prepare a variable temporal dilation field for whatever might come through and I’ll call everyone els-”

His words cut off by a flash of light and the disarmingly happy chime from the doorway indicating a successful connection. The dimensional gateway shone with a light that shimmered, seemingly both drawing light and casting shadow at the same time. Through the gateway was tossed a young woman, covered in white panels of armor that were nearly sloughing off of her from the abuse they had absorbed. Her right arm was missing from the elbow down and she had two holes in her head.

“What the fuck,” exclaimed Vesk in a nearly hysterical tone as he reeled back.

“That’s...someone has thrown a dead girl at us,” Vemnesthis concluded, faltering.

The portal crackled and spat again as it turned off, the chime playing once more as the light at the panel turned back to the red of inactivity.

“She’s not dead. Not yet at least. But she’s got a thingy,” Vesk said, side-eyeing the girl with growing nausea.

Vemnesthis nodded, his usually implacable self hesitating. “She has both physical brain trauma and extensive metaphysical trauma. Some sort of transdimensional parasitic attachment which has been partially damaged by the aforementioned tissue trauma. Most...unorthodox.”

“Who even does that? They tried to shoot an interdimensional parasite out of her brain? How is that supposed to work?” Vesk looked down at the unmoving figure. “Shit.”

A tragic figure from an alternate reality thrown at his feet on death’s door? They could’ve at least given him a choice and taken him out for dinner first.

“We oughta patch her up. Brain surgery with a gun is about the most imprecise thing in the universe. Look, the parasite isn’t even properly severed. Vem, can you handle this?” Vesk looked to his colleague.

Vemnesthis stroked his beard, his lips pursed in thought. “I can’t roll her back, we have no data on how she was before, but I can use modeling to make a guess and reverse the damage based on that. I’m wary of touching that parasite that’s still hooked into her, however.”

The god of bards and stories chewed on his lip as the girl continued to bleed on his previously perfectly good floor. His gateway exposition room was going to need a thorough sanitizing.

“Can we just, you know, do some partial blocks on it? It's already got a damaged connection. As long as we can ensure that the host on the other side can’t see where the link goes, it should be safe for the moment. I’d open the gate to check if they killed Scion properly in this timeline, but frankly I’d want Eserion here if we’re going to test our luck that much.”

Vemnesthis nodded in agreement. No motion was visible, or even needed, as he worked to repair the damage to the girl in front of them. Usually restoring brain damage would be as simple as reversing the subject’s personal time stream until it was gone, but she had taken the damage outside of their transcension fields. They had no access to anything of her from more than a minute ago without re-opening the gate.

It was quick work, even as complicated as brain surgery was, for when gods worked it was either possible or not most of the time. She was left largely unchanged, except the horrendous amount of brain damage was reduced, albeit not entirely fixed and modeled roughly on how the rest of her brain looked at the moment. The connection between her and her parasite had been trimmed and adjusted, pared down to something unable to lead an interloper to their world.

Vemnesthis looked to Vesk, as Vesk looked back to Vemnesthis.

What were they to do with her now?

Arachne Tellwyrn shook a fist at the disappearing back of the two gods, shouting, “This isn’t an orphanage! Come back here before I make you come back here!”

Professor Yornhaldt adjusted his spectacles, chewing thoughtfully on his tongue.

“What do you plan to do with her Arachne?”

She turned, shooting him a venomous look. “Do? What I ought to do is dump her on the Pantheon’s doorstep seeing as she is not my problem.”

He exhaled long and heavily. “Aye. But that would just end up putting a clearly vulnerable girl in the hands of the gods who just as likely are responsible for her ending up like this in the first place.”

She glared down at him over the edge of her gold-rimmed spectacles. “I know that Alaric, I’m not an idiot. It’s clear what Vesk wants me to do, which is why I’m more than half inclined not to just out of principle. However, I can’t deny that despite his usual inane antics he does occasionally have good ideas.”

“Meaning?” Alaric asked, half knowing the answer, but knowing Arachne would appreciate the easy lead in.

“Well, this year’s class is a bit small. Tell Janis she’ll need to get one more bed ready I suppose. We appear to have a last addition to class 1182.”