No one ever hears acromantula coming.


    That’s their whole thing, isn’t it? Their aetheric ability – “dome of silence”. An invisible bubble that no sound can breach, in or out.


    Rarely does anyone ever see acromantula coming, too. The spiders are smart. They never attack at the beginning of a surge, when aether waves rush in and for a brief spell of days illuminate the world with their glow from the sky. No, acromantula wait. When the normal dimness descends – that’s when they strike.


    And the mighty walls of Lua aren’t always enough to deter them.


    Unfortunately, no one had told Cillian that, or maybe someone had at some point, but the young boy hadn’t cared. And why would he? He was thirteen, which, in his mind, made him immortal. Bad things happened to other people, not him.


    It was Friday, and Cillian wanted to pla– no, not play, playing was for children. Cillian wanted to explore the abandoned, spooky factory he and his best friend Aidan had been giving a wide berth for years. But today was different. Today, he was feeling brave. He would meet up with Aidan and issue a challenge to his friend – whoever finds the most valuable trinket inside gets to order around the loser for an entire day.


    Cillian giggled quietly, imagining the lanky boy reciting a love poem while kneeling before his long-term crush Fiona. Cillian had even written the poem himself.


    He giggled some more. Mother eyed him strangely.


    Well, Cillian wouldn’t actually do something so cruel to his friend, but having the poem handy ensured he’d have the leverage to make Aidan willingly carry out other less monstrous things.


    “What are you giggling about?” mother asked him suspiciously, walking alongside.


    Cillian grimaced. That was one wrinkle in his otherwise flawless plan – she’d decided to accompany him to the Moores. Because it wasn’t safe, apparently.


    What a rake of bollocks, he thought angrily. So what if Aidan lived in the outer ring? Cillian had been going to his place for years, and there had never been any problems. Apart from the homeless, of course, but they were plenty in the midring, too. This time though, mother had insisted since there was talk about heightened beast activity near the city. It happened after nearly every gleambout, Cillian had tried to argue, but to no avail.


    I don’t need a niss-damned babysitter.


    “Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head innocently. “Just thinking of you, mum. You know, all that cold, rattling metal in the tram and now this.” He demonstratively exhaled through his mouth to let vapor form and quickly dissipate. “Must be a killer on your old bones.”


    She gently thumped him on the head. “These old bones can still climb better than you, child, without tripping on air and falling on my behind.”


    Cillian turned to glare at her. “A cat spooked me,” he insisted for the hundredth time, “a black one, with vivid green eyes. And it was slippery.”


    She smiled, checked her timepiece, and said, “Of course, Lian, of course. The same cat who bit your knuckles and caused you to slide off the pipe the other day.”


    “No, mum.” He rolled his eyes. “The pipe was Mr. Sullivan’s cat; you can’t fool me. I keep my stories straight, you know.” He paused. “That is, because they are truth and all, easy to keep straight, I mean. And it’s unfair anyway – the way you climb buildings ain’t natural. Must have some chimpanzee blood in you.”


    She sighed. “You are such a charmer, Lian. Old bones, chimpanzee blood – what else? And you do realize that if I have chimpanzee blood, it means you also have it?”


    He scoffed. “Mine’s watered down by father’s weak blood.”


    Mother laughed. “Why is your father’s blood suddenly weak?”


    “Well, maybe not weak, but from… uhh, what’s an animal that sits around all day?”


    “That’s what you think he does at work? Sits around? He’d be surprised to hear that.”


    “Alright, then he runs around, wishing he was sitting instead, like he does at home. What about a vermintooth? They are mostly stationary, right?”


    She thumped him again. “Dear, vermintooth is a beast, not a normal animal. I hope you don’t go around telling people they have beasts in their blood. That wouldn’t go well for you.”


    “I know, mum.” Cillian resisted an urge to roll his eyes again. “I’m just joking.”


    “Well, don’t,” she admonished gently, “not even as a joke, alright?”


    “Aye-aye, I get it.”


    They kept walking in silence after that, clicking their heels on the wooden blocks that made up the pavement in these parts. Cillian often joked that he could find the way to Aidan’s house from the tram stop with his eyes closed, just by following the characteristic odor. Father had told him once that the smell came from the coal tar used to treat the rectangular blocks, and it was also the source of their dark brown-grey color. Personally, Cillian even preferred them over the cobblestones in his home sector. The pavement here was somehow nicer to run on – when one got used to smelling that manky mix of house paint and a homeless man’s breath, that was.


    The street they were on was long and narrow, only a couple of motorwagens’ width worth. Not that there would be any, Cillian mused. So more like a couple of carriages’ width worth. The lamp posts only lined one side of the street and weren’t spaced closely enough to provide an unbroken illuminated lane, instead creating small islands of faint, warm light amidst the sea of dark. Honestly, they were doing such a poor job that the glow from the tall arched windows adorning the buildings on either side of the street contributed more to the endless battle against the dimness.


    Light. Dark. Light. Dark. The patches kept alternating. Cillian groaned internally. By himself, he would be there already. The boy wanted to sprint but couldn’t just leave his mother behind; she likely wouldn’t be able to keep up in her heeled boots. He much preferred her when she didn’t pretend to be all dignified – when she ran through rooftops with him, showing how to position his body and where to place his feet for an easier climb. Not tonight though. Tonight, she played the role of a concerned mother, escorting her brilliant son – who didn’t need escorting – to his friend’s house, and planned to have tea with the said friend’s mother. Aether help me.


    Cillian forcefully stomped on a puddle formed in a hole left behind by several dislodged blocks. Just because he could. Mother glared at him, unimpressed. He grinned in response.


    At least, she’d be occupied and wouldn’t try doing something embarrassing, like following us.


    She opened her mouth to voice a rebuke, but a cold blast of wind straight to their faces intervened. She clutched her fedora and muttered, “It is pretty cold tonight, I admit.”


    “I don’t feel any,” Cillian boasted.


    “Of course you don’t, dear.” Mother smiled and raised the collar of her long coat.


    Cillian shuddered and surreptitiously did the same. She still noticed.


    Mercifully, five minutes later, just before he could lose his mind, they reached their destination. A turn to the right through an archway into the inner yard, a short walk toward the far-right corner – and they were there. Two doors led inside this section of the building, and both appeared shut, but he knew better. The one barring the way down towards a boiler room was shut – two separate padlocks attested to that – but the other one, leading to the housing units, almost certainly wasn’t. The lock on it got busted with some regularity – once even by Aidan himself on a dare.


    Cillian reflexively glanced up at a balcony on the third floor of the seven-story building. His friend’s room; there was light. Good, he thought, Aidan wouldn’t be able to claim he was asleep and knackered and say “Let’s go another day” or other such nonsense. Sometimes, he could be a wee slow on the start-up and needed a good kick. Hmm, Cillian suddenly got an idea, maybe I should climb up and knock from the outside? Wouldn’t that be the craic?


    “I assume you know the code,” mother said once they approached the door. She rubbed her gloved hands together and added, “Hurry up!”


    “No need. Look, it’s banjax– oh.” Cillian blinked in surprise, all thoughts of climbing evaporating. “It’s actually whole?” He and Aidan shared the codes with each other habitually, but it rarely became relevant to Cillian as he could count the number of times the lock here hadn’t been broken on his visits on one hand. “Dandy. Maybe I can finally have a swing at it.” He hastily raised his hands at mother’s frown. “Kidding, kidding, I know the code. It’s… it’s something stupid; I remember Aidan bitchi– ahem, complaining about it a couple of days ago. What was it?”


    He began turning the bottommost and biggest “gear” of the lock, which had numbers ranging from 1 to 36 engraved on every tooth, hoping the metallic snap-snap-snap would jog his memory. “Umm, something obvious. First 36, then… largest! Right, got it!” He quickly lined up the 36th tooth with the 12 o’clock position then did the same with the 24th tooth of the middle gear – middle both in size and placement. The smallest and topmost gear happened to have the required number already in place. The aligned code read: “36-24-12”.


    The door unlocked, and the gears spun about randomly to reset, accompanied by a staccato of ticks.


    Why would anyone set something so stupid as the code? We live there! Cillian heard Aidan’s mocking words in his mind. Apparently, so that dunces like me can remember it, he answered mentally in his own voice.


    Cillian opened the door with a bow, but mother only snorted, coming in. Hypocrite. Always tells me not to snort like that. He followed the ungrateful woman inside.


    Alright, step one of his master plan was complete, with some complications. Hopefully, the complications in question would stick with Mrs. Nora as promised.


    He flew up the stairs.


    Factory, here we come.


    <hr>


    “Going somewhere?”


    Cillian grimaced and halted. Some finagling was required to escape the chimpanzee’s clutches, it seemed. He turned around and smiled charmingly as if they hadn’t been trying to sneak out just now. “Mother! You look radiant! And, Mrs. Nora, thank you so much for the tea and biscuits, they were delicious! Alas, we have to go, important matters arose and require our attention.”


    “Mhm.” Mother nodded seriously. “And what matters are those, if I may ask?”


    “It’s confidential.” He sighed. “But! Given how you’re a respected member of my household, I’ll share – we’re going exploring, nothing more.”


    “Exploring? At this hour?” Mrs. Nora asked, looking at her son.


    Aidan hesitated, so Cillian supplied an answer, “It’s not too late yet, and tomorrow’s weekend. It’ll be fine, Mrs. Nora, everyone here knows us.” He quickly spun to face the door again and reached for the handle. “Alright, gotta get going, bye!”


    “Not so fast.” Mother walked up to the door and put her hand on it, eyeing him warily. “What are you really planning?”


    Cillian mentally congratulated himself, Oh yes, feed an obvious tosh first then reveal the “truth” once pressed. Perfect. He exchanged glances with Aidan and made an apologetic face, which caused his friend to furrow his brows in confusion.


    “Fiiine,” Cillian dragged out, affecting reluctance. “We’re going to the girls’ place, alright?”


    Aidan went wide-eyed in alarm.


    “Girls?” mother repeated after a brief silence, clearly not having expected such an answer.


    “Just Fiona, you know, she lives nearby; Aidan fancies her. And her sister Cara.” Cillian paused to process what he’d just said. “I mean, her sister Cara also lives there, not that Aidan fancies them both. Although, they’re kinda similar… Hey, Aidan–!”


    “Shut yer gob, you prickwaver!” his best friend hissed and hit him in the arm.


    “Aidan!” Mrs. Nora exclaimed in outrage.


    “Sorry!” Cillian ducked behind his mother, hiding a smile. Yes! Aidan’s reaction was perfect; it would help sell the impression they were really going to meet the cailini.


    He didn’t know why it felt important to keep his true intentions secret from mother; going to the factory wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was the principle of the thing – Cillian was nearly an adult now, and his business was his business, no one else’s. Mother would only worry unnecessarily. Besides, technically, he hadn’t lied. After all, they would indeed go to the girls’ place. He’d never actually said they’d meet the said girls, only that they’d go in that direction, which was true.


    “Aidan!” Mrs. Nora was pulling her son’s ear while the boy yelped. “You do not call a guest vile names and you do not hit them!”


    The woman kept chastising her son, and Cillian laughed. Until his mother turned and eyed him in disapproval. “Really, Lian? Revealing your friend’s private matters like this?”


    “You insisted!”


    “Like you had no other way of saying it! Nora!” she called out. “Nora, my son is equally to blame. He can be a little…”


    “Prick,” Aidan mouthed angrily but voicelessly, his left ear aflame, glaring daggers at Cillian, who shrugged innocently.


    “Rude,” mother finished. “And indecorous.”


    “That’s not an excuse,” the still-fuming woman replied. “Apologize to your friend, Aidan, now.”


    The boy looked like he wanted nothing more than to strangle Cillian, but he obediently did as told with his lips barely moving, “I’m very sorry, Cillian, for calling you prickwaver and hitting you.”


    Cillian tried and failed to contain his grin. “I accept your apology. Don’t do it again though, it was very hurtful.” Mother thumped him on the head for the third time this evening. “And I beg your pardon, too, for my unbecoming behavior,” he promptly continued as if had intended to apologize all along. The boy eyed the door. “We’re free to go?”


    It was the women’s turn to exchange glances now. Mother said, “They seem to be in the mood, Nora, might as well let them go. Otherwise, I’d fear for your apartment’s integrity.”


    Mrs. Nora didn’t look convinced. Cillian might have overdone it a little. “Please, Mrs. Nora, we’ll be quick, in and out. I want to see Cara,” he implored. Again, not a lie, he did want to see her. And revealing an embarrassing thing about himself was fair at this point and might help placate Aidan somewhat.


    “Oh?” mother raised an interested eyebrow. “So you fancy a girl, too?”


    “Cara?” Mrs. Nora asked in surprise at the same time. “The girl is 17 if I remember right.”


    “So? I’m a charmer, mother said so just recently.”


    Aidan snorted in derision. Cillian responded by crossing his arms and wagging the index and middle fingers at the eejit surreptitiously.


    “And you’re going to meet the girl you like wearing this ugly duffel coat? It’s way too small for you now, and– actually, where did you even get it?”


    “Ugly? You bought it for me! And it’s been lying here for yonks, mum. I use it when things get dirty.” Oh null! “I mean, umm, the girls’ parents aren’t exactly expecting us, you know?” Cillian scrambled to clarify. “We’ll have to climb from the outside, and it’s grimy there.” Aether, did I ruin it?


    Mother rubbed her forehead and sighed. “You aren’t helping your case, Lian. Just… just go already, you’re giving me a headache.”


    Mrs. Nora eyed her son sternly before giving her own reluctant assent, “Fine. But best behavior, both of you, understand?”


    Cillian nodded eagerly while Aidan didn’t look all that enthusiastic. Admittedly, he hadn''t been pumped about Cillian’s plan for the evening to begin with.


    The boys headed out. When Cillian was already halfway through the doorway, mother suddenly asked, “What’s that in your pocket, Lian?”


    He hurriedly slipped out and began closing the door. “Just a flashlight, mum. Bye-bye! Have a nice tea party!”


    Cillian could feel her suspicious gaze right until the moment the door clicked shut behind him.


    <hr>


    “What the niss-shit was that!?” Aidan demanded as soon as they exited the building.


    “What?” Cillian pretended not to understand but quickly gave up. His friend deserved a real apology. “Sorry, that was not dandy. I just wanted to get away and thought they’d let us go quickly if I mentioned girls. Father seemed pretty uncomfortable when talking to me about them recently. Figured it’d work.”


    “Then you should’ve talked about your crush, not mine!”


    “I did!”


    “Aye, after babbling about Fiona! You know mine and her mothers are friends! She’ll tell!”


    “Oh. Right.”


    “Oooh,” Aidan mocked angrily.


    “Look, I’m sorry, mucker, I’ll make it up to you.”


    “How? With your stupid plan? You know it’s stupid, right?”


    “Hey now–!”


    “There’s not going to be anything of worth there, you muppet! It’s been abandoned for yonks; everything of value is long gone! And don’t you remember what homeless Rory had told us? It wasn’t even a factory but some sort of gigantic furnace. What could possibly be worthwhile there? Slag?!”


    “Stop shouting, Aid, we’re still inside the cauldron!” Cillian hissed. “And homeless Rory was full of niss-shit, a waste of the hard-won brandy he was!”


    “He worked there!”


    “He told us he’d worked there!”


    “Whatever,” Aidan scoffed. “Still stupid. Let’s get it over with; I’m freezing my balls out here.”


    “Aye. Why is it so cold today anyway?” Cillian eyed the sleeves of his coat and the ends of his leather gloves, which didn’t quite meet on account of the former being too short, then fetched a hat with earflaps and a short brim from the coat’s pocket and pulled it on his head.


    The boys quickly left the yard through an arch sitting opposite the one Cillian and his mother had taken earlier and fast-walked toward the main street – it separated the 5th octant, on the edge of which Moores lived, from the 6th. Taken together the two octants made up the Null-Lem quarter of the outer ring.


    They expertly navigated through narrow alleys formed in between buildings very similar to Aidan’s own, spooking rats along the way and climbing over wooden crates inconveniently blocking the path. A woman hanging clothes on a line stretching across the gap shooed them away when they greeted her. Bah, no manners at all!


    Five minutes later they were already on the main and turned left to head in the direction of the Wall.


    Despite the late hour, the street was still bright and lively – the ground floors on both sides were filled with ever-full pubs and ever-present shops. Pubs, inside which Cillian had never been allowed to but had sneaked in a couple of times anyway. And shops, which were spilling their wares on tables and shelves almost to the road and had young boys loudly proclaim the quality of the goods to all passersby.


    It was like finding yourself in a different world after taking one small step. From a dark, quiet, and narrow alley to some sort of festival. Only it wasn’t a festival; it was just Friday. The boys didn’t bump into anyone and didn’t have to elbow their way through, but people were still plentiful. This close to the midring, they were walking about on the wide street without fear; Cillian even spotted a couple of city guards on patrol. And there were working lamp posts on both sides of the road, actually giving off more than a whisper of light and allowing him to see the steam and smoke rising from the rooftops and short exhaust flues jutting out from the walls here and there.


    Although, if one looked closer, they’d see that it wasn’t a different world but a variant of the same. The pavement was still wooden blocks, and it was in an even worse shape – there were great many holes simply filled with gravel, not to mention other holes filled with nothing but rain. The aforementioned people were also the same – most were dressed in coats of various types, fedoras, and tall boots of dark colors, with an occasional aviator-style jacket, a rain cape, a gatsby, or a cloche appearing in one combination or another.


    The two friends didn’t mingle with the crowd for long, soon turning into one of the numerous streets cutting through the 6th octant laterally. And it was an actual street rather than yet another alley.


    “You’re right,” Cillian finally acknowledged when they were almost halfway to their destination. They’d been mostly marching silently until then. “There’s not going to be anything valuable.”


    Aidan rolled his eyes.


    “But! I have another idea, this one’s actually genius.”


    “I’m going to hate it, aren’t I?” Aidan puffed out rhetorically.


    “Only if you’re a sissy.” Cillian grinned. “We’re going to climb the thing. The one getting higher wins!”


    Aidan stopped and stared at him as if it wasn’t the greatest thought ever. “That’s even stupider, Kili!” he decried. “The thing’s rusted all over! It’s going to crumble!”


    “So, a sissy then?” Cillian smirked. “That’s what I thought.”


    “What are you, five?”


    “Just think. It’s been derelict for yonks, and, aye, all the stuff’s likely long gone, but it’s been an upright derelict for yonks. You think no one’s tried to climb it? There are steps, mucker. It’s not exactly Foerstner headquarters, is it? It hasn’t fallen yet, and it’s not going to fall today.”


    Aidan huffed and resumed walking, slower now. “What do you even have in mind, huh? Why do you want to order me around so much? What’s your angle? Maybe I should just refuse to participate.”


    “I don’t have an angle,” Cillian lied. Lying to a friend was okay. “I just want to have the craic, don’t be a wet rag.”


    “I’m not. Refusing your schemes is often just plain good sense.”


    “Like null it is.”


    The deeper they went into the octant, the more differences with the one they’d left behind reared their heads. Gradually, buildings stopped being uniform – first in height and, soon, in the employed materials as well: worn-out rustic brown brick, limestone, concrete, and plastered brick pretending to be concrete replaced the red brick’s near monopoly. The lengths of the buildings also varied. Roofs and windows stayed mostly the same though: the former – all steep angles and smoking chimneys; while the latter – tall and arched and featuring pronounced sills.


    However, after they turned left into an alley and then right into another street, this one narrower, a real change made itself known. Gone was the unpleasant odor of tar coal as there was no pavement in here, just hard ground turned to mud in some places. In its stead, an altogether different smell had taken over – a back alley smell if you would. Piss and drunkards and cigarette smoke. Lovely.


    None of the inhabitants cared much for the two of them, thankfully. In their tattered and too-small duffel coats and funny hats, Cillian and Aidan didn’t look like they had anything worth a null on them anyway. They looked like they belonged. Hopefully, in the dim light no one would notice Cillian’s nicer-than-average boots.


    As the pair walked over a couple of corrugated iron sheets just lying on the ground, likely covering some hollows and looking like they’d been stolen from someone’s rooftop, Cillian asked, “So, you in or what?”


    “I’m going, aren’t I?”


    “Aye, but I figured maybe you just want to make yourself scarce while your mum inevitably complains to mine about you. You know, how she longs for her eejit son to be more like the perfect Cillian.”


    Aidan laughed out loud. “Ha! I bet they’re drinking more than just tea because Mrs. Roisin wishes to forget you exist for a couple of hours!”


    They kept up the banter and playful shoving, without any sullen silences now. Cillian knew Aidan would come around eventually, he always did.


    The duo skirted past a group of men burning garbage in a barrel, walked under a metal catwalk, and emerged into a narrower part of the street. The pathway remained the same if weaving around more, but the buildings bulged out, edging closer to their neighbors across.


    It was more of a forest made from concrete, brick, and metal rather than a street – not that Cillian had ever been to a forest. What gave off that impression was, first, more catwalks spanning the gap at all levels – there were even catwalks connecting other catwalks. And second, most structures here looked like they’d been grown over the years as opposed to being carefully planned and constructed, which was evident by the fact the materials in use often switched floor to floor, sometimes accompanied by a change in size too. That was, seeing a big upper floor, erected from concrete, sitting on top of a much smaller floor, built from brick, and without any visible support beams was nothing unusual. In fact, it’d be a very mild example. If Cillian wasn’t mistaken, one structure ahead and to the left terminated with an actual freight container at the very top. Not putting the metal tomb at the base likely constituted the extent of safety protocols here. Countless wall-mounted ladders and lanterns also added to the wilderness feel.


    In other words, the area was a complete mess, and Cillian loved it. It was a climbing heaven. There was even a resident gargoyle sitting atop a wide unused pipe running under the third floor of one of the buildings. On guard from evil outsiders, no doubt.


    “Hey, shams! Who are you, and what do you want at the temple?” the gargo– ahem, boy called out to them.


    “Get nulled, Flynn, it’s me!” Aidan shouted in response.


    “Hm? Oh, Aidan, hey! It’s been a while. Who’s this with you?” Flynn squinted from above, raising a small handheld lamp. “Oh, ‘tis your prissy friend! Hello!”


    “Niss take you, little Flynnie,” Cillian said, not in the mood to be delayed.


    “We ain’t going to the temple,” Aidan assured.


    “Where to then?”


    “Not your business. We’ll talk on the way back.”


    “Kay. No skin off my arse if you’re lying.”


    “Ain’t lying. Grown-up stuff, sham, you wouldn’t understand.”


    “Pfft, right.”


    “Bye, gargoyle! Guard well!” Cillian yelled in farewell as they left him behind.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    The two boys reached the end of the street and climbed a small rise waiting there – someone had helpfully carved steps into the dirt – and immediately came upon a ditch two dozen paces wide. The “scar” ran through a big chunk of the octant longwise and had been dug out yonks ago – for a scheme no one could remember but everyone had a fantastical tale about – and then never used. These days, it simply collected garbage and served as a playground for children. Multipurpose, that.


    They crossed the metal footbridge and turned sharply left to walk in between the ditch and more ugly buildings. The path was barely wide enough for two people to pass through shoulder to shoulder and was lined with iron sheets, with more of them also hanging a meter above their heads, sloping down toward the ditch.


    The end of the pathway signaled the end of their journey. As the two exited the “tunnel”, they immediately spotted the factory – it was hard to miss on account of a giant smokestack, at least six stories tall, standing proudly not fifty paces away, forward and right. They’d seen it way before getting close, of course, but all the encroaching buildings and the fact that the factory was the only place not illuminated in any way had made it difficult to properly discern. Not anymore. Now, it looked somehow even taller than Cillian remembered. Not just the chimney but the main part of the facility as well. He felt no inkling to sissy out whatsoever though, honest.


    Aidan stopped and stared apprehensively, so Cillian affected a nonchalant air and casually strolled past the still visible scars in the ground where the heavy fence had once barred the way. A blast furnace, homeless Rory had called it. According to him, the trio of pipe-like things next to the smokestack, half its height but thrice the girth and ending with a dome instead of being open, were cowper stoves, which had been used for preheating air before blasting it into the furnace itself from below. Cillian could sort of see it as the main tower had a huge pipe wrapped around it about two meters above the ground. He still thought Rory was a shameless swindler.


    He carefully walked past the smokestack, crunching on the gravel underfoot and for the first time appreciating the sheer scale of the thing, then past the stoves too, gently brushing one on the way and feeling the cold even through the gloves. A dozen paces further he ducked under a pipe running parallel to the ground only to realize that it terminated abruptly three steps away.


    Ahead awaited a maze of metal scrap, amidst which he couldn’t see anything connecting the big heater yokes to the tower, but then again, lots of stuff here was just gone. Case in point being a couple of hangar skeletons to his far right. Aye, skeletons, because only the rusted frames remained. Everything here was dark and rusted.


    Cillian crept closer to the supposed furnace, crouching under more broken pipes and twice having to circle piles of unidentifiable junk. He didn’t look back to see if Aidan was following; he didn’t need to. Teasing aside, his best friend wasn’t a coward.


    Just a dozen paces from the tower, Cillian stopped and looked up.


    “What are you doing?!” Aidan shoved him forward. “Don’t stand under it!”


    Aye, that probably wasn’t smart. He hadn’t been staring up at the tower itself but rather at a black opening of yet another prematurely terminating pipe, this one vertical and wide enough to swallow Cillian whole with room to spare. It originated from the side at the very top of the furnace, going first diagonally then straight down, and was clearly supposed to go into something on the ground, but that something had been scurried away by locals, leaving the pipe just hanging in the air like an arm. How it hadn’t fallen off yet was a mystery.


    A few more steps and, at last, they were at the heart of the place. Cillian marched to the side of the imposing structure that felt most like the “front” to him – the one furthest from the ditch – and only then deigned to look at it, tracing his gaze up from the bottom. The concrete foundation and the aforementioned encircling pipe came first, followed by five levels of steel grating platforms connected with stairs and, same as the pipe, snaking all around the brick spine. And, at the top, his eyes glued to a curious slingshot-like shape, upside-down, taking up three more levels in height. He had to shuffle back a little and crane his neck hard just to be able to see the tip from this close.


    Suddenly, Cillian felt really intimidated and small. The furnace wasn’t the tallest structure he’d seen in his life, not by a long shot, but nothing else he remembered had appeared so exposed. There was always a facade covering the insides. Not here.


    He shook his head and looked away. It didn’t matter. No way he would back down now even if he didn’t feel ready.


    “I’m ready,” Cillian proclaimed loudly and turned to face his friend.


    “Umm…” Aidan looked unnerved. Sissy. “I don’t see the ladder. Do you?” he asked, voice hesitant and hopeful. Cillian chose to overlook it.


    “What ladder?”


    “The one that should be here, leading to the first platform. How would they climb there otherwise? It’s three meters up!”


    “Oh.” Cillian turned back to the tower and spent a few seconds properly processing what he was seeing. “It’s fine. We just have to reach the pipe, and there’s plenty of stuff to hold on to.” He cleared his throat, trying to rid of any residual hesitation in his voice. “It’s fine. Just follow me.”


    Before he could convince himself to postpone and without waiting for an affirmative, Cillian tore his eyes away from the top, walked up to the concrete base, and jumped on it. One step at a time.


    Reaching the pipe, indeed, turned out to be easy, but it took him three tries to get a grip on it; it was so thick. Cillian pulled himself up and, sitting atop now, asked cheekily, “Need a hand?”


    “Get nulled!” came an expected response.


    Cillian stood up. The first platform was now at his waist level, and it lacked any railings. More scrap for locals, probably. He clambered up and waited for Aidan.


    “See?” he asked once the mucker joined him. “Stable.” Cillian stomped. The bang reverberated louder than he’d expected. “Oops. Nothing to worry about.”


    “I swear, if you start jumping up and down, I’m going to strangle you.”


    They carried on. The stairs between the floors soon proved to be easily conquerable even if Cillian took his time feeling up each step carefully. Mother had trained no tool. Even with the measured approach, it took them less than five minutes to ascend to the top platform. A little underwhelming, truth be told.


    “Woo-hoo!” Cillian bellowed, raising his arms. Aidan swatted at him. What’s with everyone smacking me around today?


    Further up, the footpaths surrounding the “slingshot” looked more like scaffolding and were only reachable by ladders, which, thankfully, still remained. Although, their shabby appearance inspired little confidence.


    The boys took a breather. Cillian felt for the first time that the wind had shifted to warmer now, which was nice. He approached the edge and looked around. They were above most structures in the vicinity, but this height meant nothing to him; he’d climbed much higher with mother. Glancing in the direction of the center of Lua, he saw the midring wall, behind which stood more buildings playing host to countless light sources and gradually growing larger, but couldn’t discern any details beyond that. The aether streaks in the sky, colorful as they were, didn’t provide all that much illumination. Nice view but not exceptional. He should come back when–


    A strange silhouette spotted out of the corner of his eye on a nearby roof interrupted Cillian’s train of thought. He turned and shifted his focus to it, but there was nothing, just darkness. Cillian frowned, confident he’d seen movement, and examined the building closer for several heartbeats, top to bottom and back – nothing still. It stood serenely on the other side of the ditch and looked typical of the environment. Shoddy. But no moving shapes. The only worthy thing to note anywhere close was mist, which was just starting to form along the ground but was swiftly expanding. Grand, exactly what we need.


    “I think Rory had the right of it, Kili!” Aidan called out from the right, startling him. “Look!”


    “What?” Cillian questioned irritably, breaking off his staring contest with the building and joining his friend. “Oh, that.” He’d somehow forgotten about another feature of the facility, initially not visible on their approach because of its position on the other side.


    There was a shaft. An inclined one. Supposedly, for an elevator. Only a frame again, and it looked like someone had simply lowered a normal vertical shaft until its tip ended up resting on the platform that the boys currently occupied. There was no cabin, hoist ropes, or anything at all other than the beams going down and crisscrossing the “walls”.


    “See? I’m pretty sure that’s a guide rail, so it is an elevator. Or was. And the whole thing’s welded, Kil, not just lying on top,” Aidan pointed out, kicking one of the beams for emphasis.


    “Huh.” Cillian peered closer. “But– but what’s the point of having a tilting elevator? It would require more metal, no? Makes no sense!”


    Aidan snorted. “I’m pretty sure whoever built this yoke knew more about blast furnaces than you do, mucker.”


    Cillian rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I ain’t apologizing to Rory though; he’s still a swindler.” He straightened up and changed the subject, nodding at the ‘slingshot’, “So, we going up?”


    Aidan grimaced. “Don’t you think it’s high enough? Look at these ladders – they’re so rusted you can’t even tell what color they are!”


    “I knew it! You’re going to sissy out after all? Be my little servant for a day?” Cillian grinned in anticipation.


    “Nah, Kil, see, I’ve never actually agreed to–”


    A shriek interrupted him, and they both jumped.


    A woman’s shriek, from somewhere down below, muted by distance but still distinct. It grew hysterical then cut off, as abruptly as it had erupted, and not because the woman stopped shrieking, but as though someone had shut the world’s heaviest door on her, leaving now ominous silence behind.


    The boys exchanged long looks. Violence was nothing new here, but, thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as bad as in the true slums. Whatever was happening, it didn’t concern them. They would stay out of it.


    Although…


    Cillian fetched his small flashlight and rotated the bottom of the handle to switch it on then walked to the stairs they’d used to climb up and shone it onto the lower floors to make sure the violence in question wasn’t about to pay a visit to them. Damn mist was everywhere now, thin as it was, even at the bottom of the furnace.


    Something didn’t feel right to him. What was it? He strode to the opposite side to look across the ditch once again.


    Aidan joined him, shining his own flashlight down, not that it reached the ground. “What?”


    Cillian shook his head. “Whisht. Listen.”


    They stood and listened.


    After several breaths, Aidan shrugged. “I don’t hear nothing.”


    “Aye. Me neither.” Cillian faced his friend. “Like, nothing at all, just wind and ourselves.”


    Aidan blinked and frowned. “Huh. Right. That’s quare.”


    Quare, indeed. Cillian peered down intently. Yes, he could hear the wind and all that metal surrounding them quietly groaning, but where were the sounds of people? What was happ–


    He gasped and took an instinctive step back as he witnessed a nightmare. Beside him, Aidan let out a strangled, horrified noise.


    A spider emerged from the mist and gloom, big as a hound, scurrying along the ditch’s far wall, just close enough to the buildings’ sparse lights to be visible. Then another followed the first, this one the size of a man. Then another, smaller again. And another. The mist was swirling around them as if an active participant of its own, denser at the creatures’ feet and making them appear all but glide above the surface. They were so mesmerizing that Cillian couldn’t look away. Until he belatedly realized that the big spider was dragging something through the garbage and mud. Someone. A recognizably human shape, absolutely cocooned in the webbing, was being taken along for the ride.


    By the Heaven…


    The beasts lined up with the boys and, not sparing the petrified duo a glance, kept trudging along down the “scar”.


    Cillian yelped when a hand seized him by the shoulder, but it was just Aidan, who was pointing at a different spot, mouth agape. He followed his friend’s arm and saw more spide– no, more acromantula crawling over the walls and roof of a taller building standing further away from the ditch. He saw one monster slip inside an open window, trailed by more.


    Breath caught in his throat, Cillian watched the same scene repeat at another location. A bigger spider through an open window or door, with a smaller taking a chimney. One more time. And again. And again.


    Some wee part of his mind had realized what was about to happen, yet a larger part couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Monsters? Here? That was impossible! He should have started bellowing warnings, should have tried to alert even a single soul, but he did nothing. Only watched in terrified fascination.


    So the two young boys stood, frozen like statues, and the world itself appeared to stay stock-still as the last of the visible acromantula disappeared inside. How many were there hiding in shadows and waiting in ambush, which he couldn’t see?


    In a few heartbeats, the picture returned back to normal – nothing at all seemed out of the ordinary once again. Almost like he’d dreamt up the whole thing.


    One second.


    His whole body felt tense.


    Two.


    Please, let it be just a trick of my overactive imagination.


    Thre–


    An entrance to a building burst open, and a man fell out of it into the mist, back first, with a smaller spider on top. Blink and you’d have missed them.


    No.


    But, like a first punch in a fight, it was immediately followed by an eruption of violence.


    More doors and windows exploded out, spilling terrified humans abandoning their homes in a panic. Don’t! Cillian wanted to shout, That’s exactly what the ones outside are waiting for! As people stumbled and fell, not knowing what to do and where to run, the beasts pounced on them. In stark contrast to the flailing humans, the spiders acted methodically. So very orderly. So unlike what he’d always been told to expect from supposedly mindless monsters.


    Cillian saw a man get jumped as soon as he exited his house. Then the same happened to another man. To the left, he spotted a naked woman climb out of a window and leap from one catwalk to another, only to slip and plummet down; a big acromantula was unhurriedly lowering itself on a strand of web in pursuit.


    He frantically swept his gaze from side to side – the monsters were emerging from everywhere now. One moment they were separated into small groups, the next – dozens had cropped up out of countless dark nooks and corners, swarming all over, skittering across walls and pipes, and dropping down on the fleeing prey. Several especially big ones even seemed to be acting as sentinels and were spreading over the rooftops. Spreading their range, he realized.


    Cillian returned his gaze to the ground and could only stand and watch in horror as another woman got pierced from behind – an acromantula’s spindly limb tearing open her chest with a gush of blood. He made a sickened gasp and averted his eyes, in time to catch sight of flashes of gunfire to their left. Then more.


    He saw all that, yet not a single sound reached them. Nothing.


    Cillian squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, trying to process the scenes and blindly grabbing for his best friend’s hand. Aidan clutched him back tightly. A horrific mime show was unfolding beneath – the two boys its sole audience. He could only hope they would remain spectators.


    His first instinct was to run but run where? They were probably safer here than anywhere else at the moment. Mother, a panicked thought came to him, but Cillian forced himself to relax. She’s far enough away; she’s fine. Where was the null-damned alarm, anyway?! Oh, right, acromantula. There might have been an alarm, and they just couldn’t hear it.


    Makes sense, aye. Also likely why we don’t hear nothing; we must be beyond the combined dome. The bubbles merge together and grow bigger, right? But how did the monsters get so deep without alerting anyone to begin with?


    No, Cillian shook his head. He had to focus. Hows and whys weren’t important right now. On wooden legs, he trudged to the corner providing a view both at the ditch and at the area with the gunshots, which had ceased a moment ago, dragging Aidan with him. Oh null. The mist was rising, obscuring more and more, but he still spotted a big acromantula crawling on top of the roof of the pathway they’d taken earlier. In their direction.


    Then the sound returned.


    Cillian jerked at the abruptness of it as pleading screams, cries of pain, shuttering of glass, and even someone’s crazed laugh – everything assaulted him all at once. It took the boy a moment to shakily readjust, during which he had a silly realization that his previous thought about a heavy door being slammed shut on the shrieking woman had been pretty accurate. And now the room had expanded to include them, too. They were under the dome. Which could only mean one thing.


    “They’re coming for us,” Cillian uttered, surprised at his own calm tone. He could feel Aidan shudder.


    “What do we do?” his friend asked in a hoarse voice. Good, the mucker was still functional.


    Cillian didn’t have time to respond though as somewhere very close metal screeched in protest, and the whole tower trembled. Then rapid tap-tap-tap sounds came, like a stone on steel, hollow. Oh no. Something was climbing up the broken “arm”, underneath which he had foolishly gaped earlier. Aidan whimpered, or maybe it was him. Things were happening faster than Cillian could think, so he didn’t. When a monster appeared from below, almost flying up the pipe, and lunged for them, he simply tackled Aidan to the platform, and the beast soared a hairsbreadth above. He screamed as his right shoulder was sliced open, only barely registering the other boy’s cries of pain.


    From the floor, Cillian choked out a sob, coughed, and forced himself to look up. His vision was blurry but good enough to see the looming abomination. It was already facing them and preparing to attack once again. This is it then. Defiance surged up in him, and Cillian did the only thing he could – threw his shining flashlight at their would-be killer. It wasn’t even a good throw, lying prone as he was, and the flashlight simply bounced off one of the creature’s many legs.


    So much for defia–


    The monster went berserk.


    It pounced on the implement, which was rolling away, and tore into it, making awful clicking sounds. Cillian blinked stupidly. What? Then Aidan’s moans interjected, and he jumped to his feet. And fell again. Crawled to his friend. Cursing and sobbing, the two rose together, helping each other. Cillian tried not to look at the psychotic beast five paces away. Inadvertently, his eyes fell on another flashlight, this one turned off, and the realization finally dawned on him. Aether burning. Niss-crap, I’m an eejit!


    He shoved Aidan towards the stairs, grabbed the flashlight, and scrambled after. Don’t look behind. The back of Aidan’s head was oozing blood. As for his own shoulder – a warm, almost pleasant feeling was spreading over it, but, strangely, he didn’t feel any pain.


    They fled down the stairs, thundering over the steps three at a time, caution be damned. If the thing crumbled now, it would still be better than being carried away by the monsters.


    On the second platform from the ground, Aidan screeched to a stop, and Cillian almost crashed into him, averting at the last moment and falling on his knees. His friend was yelling something incoherent, but he didn’t need to hear properly to understand – another acromantula, even bigger, was skittering toward them from the hangars, diving in and out of the mist. It would reach the furnace and climb before they could descend. And it was still too high to just jump down and run away. They were trapped.


    Aidan was panicking now, and Cillian himself felt an urge to close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else. Yet he stumbled to his feet and, more firmly than he felt, wrapped Aidan in a one-arm hug, his other hand clutching the flashlight.


    “Mucker, listen! I’ll throw the flashlight once it gets up here, and we run!” Cillian swallowed as the incoming creature disappeared from view, too close to the tower to see from their position. “Wait til it goes mad, you hear?!”


    Thump-thump-thump.


    “Aidan, you unders–?!”


    The monster exploded above the edge of the platform, and he fumbled to switch the light on. Then, in a panic, he threw it randomly right and up, but, instead of flying away from the tower, the flashlight bounced off the first acromantula, which, unnoticed by both, was slowly sinking to their level from above on a lengthening and barely visible thread of web.


    Cillian watched in dread as the glowing stick landed back on the platform with a loud clang and skidded to a halt right at the opening to the stairs leading down. Oh null. Both creatures leaped at it, carelessly tearing into each other in their frenzy. He desperately cast about for another way down.


    The elevator shaft!


    Cillian slapped Aidan on the face and shouted, “Snap out of it, mucker! Let’s go!”


    He had to forcefully turn and push the useless prick, who began yelling as they neared the edge at speed. Cillian didn’t care, only bellowed, “JUMP!” and trusted Aidan to do it out of sheer survival instinct.


    They both yelped the entire short flight but managed to grab onto the frame. Thank aether for the cross-beams!


    “Come on, come on! Don’t freeze, eejit! To the vertical girder and get to the ground!”


    The loss of firm footing had seemed to jolt Aidan back to reality, and, freaking out loudly, the two of them recklessly slid down in less than five seconds, tearing their gloves and coats on the jagged edges in the process.


    They were back on solid ground but at a loss for what to do next. Cillian glanced up and regretted it immediately. Then Aidan took the initiative – he rushed straight to the ditch.


    “Where are you going?!” Cillian didn’t understand but ran after anyway. Better to move somewhere.


    “Garbage!”


    “What?!”


    “There are some dumpsters there! We can hide!”


    Aye, hiding was good. Best damned thing Aidan had ever said.


    They all but tumbled into the ditch in their hurry and took off left – past the stoves and chimney again and back the way they’d come from. The immediate vicinity of the furnace was still eerily untouched likely because it was so open with nowhere for the monsters to stage an attack from. But soon, not forty paces away, other people appeared amidst the white haze and dust – a trickle at first, all scared and bloody, screaming and shoving each other out of the way. Then more. Everybody was rushing any which way: some attempting to cross to the other side, others – scurrying along the “scar”, same as them. There were also dead acromantula lying around. Not many but enough to give Cillian hope.


    The hope died right away when he finally noticed smoke and flames coming from the ditch further ahead. He’d been so preoccupied with clambering over junk, scattered everywhere, and deliberately not looking up at the carnage that he’d first smelled the fire rather than seen it. But, as soon as he had, Cillian stopped and gaped at the spectacle.


    A man, his left leg on fire, was yelling madly at a beast and swinging a hammer at it. Too slow and too wild. He cried out in agony when sharp talons pierced him through the side but, instead of going down, roared like a beast himself, lunged forward, grabbed the monster, and charged into the flames. Both disappeared inside the raging inferno.


    Cillian couldn’t believe his eyes.


    “What are you two standing around for, boys?!” some woman rushing past shouted. “RUN!”


    More things ignited to the left of the ditch – someone was throwing fire cocktails about. There would be no hiding for them here.


    “Up!” Cillian overtook Aidan and started climbing the wall to their right on all fours, digging his fingers into the dirt and for the first time realizing his injured shoulder wasn’t moving properly. But no intense pain – good enough.


    Just three steps off the edge was where the line of buildings began, and, miraculously, the one right in front of him had its metal door gaping open. They rushed in and slammed it shut. But before he could even consider holing up in there, a scream – a girl’s scream – came from the upper floor. Cillian whirled around. Looked at the stairs. Looked at Aidan. His friend shook his head, eyes going wide. The scream turned into agonized gurgles. And ceased. Cillian hated himself for feeling relief at not having to make a choice.


    Then he lurched forward, crashing into a table, as Aidan suddenly shoved him from behind, shrilling, “FIONA! Fiona lives close!”


    Before Cillian could understand what was going on, his friend thundered past to the opposite side of the room where another door led outside, threw it open, and fled.


    “Aidan, NO!!!”


    Cillian groaned and rose unsteadily to his feet. Prickwaving moron!


    He rubbed his elbows, winced, and gave chase.


    First left – the boy more or less stumbled to the end of the alley – then right, picking up pace and cursing the lovesick fool with every breath. He spotted Aidan ahead, shouted for him to stop, and fell again – tripped. On a corpse. Two corpses, in fact – one woman, one monster. And a bloody crowbar discarded nearby. He grabbed it before shuffling away, in too much hurry to feel horrified.


    Swaying side to side like a drunkard, catching himself on walls, railings, and barrels, Cillian nonetheless carried on, barely noticing a man pursued by two spiders jump from one roof to the next above his head, and no longer paying any attention to screams and crashing sounds coming from everywhere. He might as well be cut off from the sounds again – none of it mattered.


    One step after another, Cillian went after his best friend.


    Come on, Aidan, don’t be an eejit!


    How many stupid alleys could there possibly be?! He struggled to remember the way as everything looked the same. Someone forcefully bumped into his shoulder, and Cillian spun and fell. Yet again. He got up and kept going.


    Yes! That building – I know it! Cillian mentally cheered.


    His cheer was short-lived. He was late.


    He knew it as soon as he saw an acromantula crawl on a pipe past an opening to the alley he was staggering through. Past the opening only two dozen paces away from Fiona’s home. The small beast vanished from view, heading there with intent.


    “NO-NO-NO! Aidan!” Cillian wailed, hoping the mucker would hear him and react. He kept half running, half limping; his right knee no longer quite right. The sounds of furious banging on metal reverberated, then he heard Aidan’s unmistakable voice shouting for Fiona.


    Cillian emerged on the three-way junction, himself screaming something unintelligible.


    Emerged, just in time to see the monster jump on his friend from above.


    “AIDAAAAN!!!”


    The spider tore into the boy’s head.


    Cillian threw the crowbar uselessly, not hitting anywhere close to the pair, but when he saw the blood erupt and heard his best friend’s burbling cries, he lost it. The whole world shrank to a single point, and then… and then Cillian couldn’t think, couldn’t recall things clearly.


    One moment he was running, the next – found himself launching at the beast, tackling it off Aidan’s sprawled form.


    He didn’t remember landing and didn’t know how the monster got behind him, but suddenly Cillian was face down in the dirt with his back being sliced to ribbons.


    Another blink – now he was back on top, howling and trying to wrap the ripped coat around the beast.


    Someone was calling out his name – it didn’t matter.


    The one thing that did was bashing the lump off the ground again and again, and, when the creature fell from the ruined cloth, he jumped on it, uncaring of the talons cutting into his flesh, and kept pummeling down. Fists, elbows – he threw all he had – until blood, his blood, was running everywhere, coating both the monster’s body and his bare hands. Where had his gloves gone?


    Cillian never stopped thrashing the broken abomination, feeling no pain, only fury. It became his singular purpose.


    Then strong hands enveloped him from behind.


    The boy lashed out blindly.


    “Lian!”


    He lashed out again.


    “Lian, it’s me!”


    He kept struggling, trying to get free, screeching like a madman, and was about to bite the hand on his shoulder when he heard another desperate, “Cillian, it’s mum!”


    Cillian stopped dead. MUM?!


    He clicked his jaw shut and snapped back to reality, heaving a strangled breath. Comprehension flooded back into his mind. That and agony. And Aidan.


    “I’ve found you, son, I’ve found you,” mother chanted.


    “MUM!” Cillian tried to find his feet. “Aidan! He’s injured, he needs help!” But she held onto him. “MUM!” He heard her let out a single sob from behind.


    “I’m sorry, dear,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”


    “WHAT?!”


    “Can you walk, sweetie?”


    Mother hefted him up, and he sought to stand, already turning, intent on reaching for Aidan. But his legs wouldn’t support him, and she had to catch him before he crashed. Then she lifted him up and draped him across her shoulders, squatted to pick up the crowbar, and began hurriedly walking away from the scene.


    “Mum, WAIT! Aidan!”


    “I’m sorry, Lian,” she repeated, openly crying now, but didn’t stop.


    “MUM!”


    Cillian tried to crane his neck to look back, but his everything hurt, and he could only manage enough to see his friend’s unmoving legs.


    “AI–!” he called out but choked and spat blood.


    Mother approached the closest door and tested the handle – no give. She banged and pleaded to let them in. No response.


    “No-no-no,” she muttered desperately when more screams and clicking sounds came from behind them, very close. She abruptly turned, and Cillian had only just noticed a spider crawling towards them on the wall when an ear-shuttering bang came from right next to him, and the spider fell. Mother fast-walked to a building on the opposite side.


    What? Since when does she have a gun?


    Cillian was barely cognizant at this point, his ears ringing, but he saw that the structure didn’t have a ground floor and was instead standing on arches made from crisscrossing girders of dark metal. Mother was saying something to him, tone reassuring, but he’d missed the meaning; his addled mind latching onto some cylindrical thing underneath the building – anything to avoid thinking about his dead friend. It took him several seconds to identify the object as a doghouse converted from an old, rusted boiler now lying on its side and having the top replaced with an ill-fitting wire mesh door.


    Mother cursed, “No lock. Damn it.” She was right. There were shackles welded both to the door and the boiler’s wall, but no padlock. “No matter, I’ll hold the door with the crowbar.”


    She knelt, gently pulled Cillian from behind her head, and set him down legs first, his back to the open doorway.


    Which was why he saw the attack coming.


    “Behind you!” he rasped in warning, his voice gone.


    Too late. Unable to help. Useless.


    Again.


    But mother surprised him. She reacted immediately – pushed his limb body in, rose and spun around, viciously back-swinging the crowbar without looking and whipping out the revolver from inside the coat, all in a blink of an eye. She fired. The terrifying creature, which had torn into her forearm, went limp but was still hanging on, the talons dug deep. Mother cried out in pain but didn’t try to shake it off – she couldn’t – as another much bigger monster lunged at her. She shot it as well.


    “MUM!”


    More spiders came.


    Cillian made to get out – grabbed the edges of the boiler and pulled. He barely shifted a hairsbreadth before the pain in the shoulder forced him to let go. Useless.


    “No, Lian, STAY THERE! Close the do–!” She threw the crowbar at his feet. A fourth shot rang out.


    Niss take the damn thing, he wouldn’t sit there and do nothing!


    He feverishly pulled on the edges again and moved this time. Yes! Almost out!


    Then he heard rapid thumps above his head, and another acromantula showed up, looked upside-down at him, and dropped on top of his legs. He grabbed the crowbar and rammed it – the creature didn’t fly far. It made to leap at him again, and Cillian instinctively pulled up his legs and slammed the door shut, hooking the end of the weapon through the mesh and pulling on the handle.


    Only then did he realize what he had done.


    The spider stabbed wildly at the mesh with its limbs. Crack-crack-crack. Crack-crack-crack. Unable to puncture the thing yet relentless.


    Cillian no longer saw his mother; his entire view was taken up by the monster. He was holding on to the crowbar for dear life. Another shot ruptured the air. Chill crept up his spine. How many did she have left? The monster kept pouncing at him.


    Mother screamed.


    “No-no-no,” Cillian pleaded and pushed the crowbar, damn the consequences. But the spider leaped forward again, and the door slammed shut. “LET ME OUT!” he yelled and threw forward as much of his weight as he could. The stupid beast didn’t understand that the meal was willingly coming. It crashed into the door over and over.


    Cillian’s vision went blurry – he was crying now, his whole body trembling.


    “Please, LET ME OUT! Please, help us! Help mum! Please!”


    The hideous black eyes and fangs, gnawing on the mesh, were his only reply.


    “Ho– hold on, son!” He heard her!


    One final shot rang out. His mother suddenly erupted in fury, shouting her last-ditch defiance.


    YES!


    But the fury broke just as abruptly, leaving only wheezing and coughing. Struggling to say something else.


    “MUM!”


    She sounded quieter.


    “Please, mum!”


    Crack-crack-crack.


    And quieter.


    He saw glimpses of her down on her knees but still fighting.


    “Li– Lian.”


    Crack-crack-crack.


    A spider jumped on her from behind, and she collapsed.


    “MUUUM!”


    She struggled fiercely. Then less.


    NO.


    Then her voice faded forever.


    “MUM!”


    …


    No response.


    “Please, mum,” he sobbed in despair.


    It couldn’t be.


    NO!


    He refused to believe it – pushed yet again. Why was he so damn useless and weak?!


    Then the small beast moved aside, to be replaced by a much larger specimen and letting Cillian catch sight of her limp form. The bloody remains of his mother.


    He froze and stared, going numb, all remaining strength abandoning him in an instant.


    A much larger limb pierced the thin mesh like paper, the talons almost reaching his head.


    Cillian just sat dumbly, uncomprehending.


    Another stab.


    M-mum?


    And another. But what did it matter?


    Please.


    His whole world had crumbled before him.


    Cillian began howling, no longer caring.


    Mother…


    The boy let go of the handle.