Controlling the lunar fabric allows sorcerers to do impossible things, such as become intangible or heal from deadly wounds. Indeed, the only known way to permanently kill an Obtainment Acolyte, perhaps aside from decapitation, is to shatter their power source – or ambush them when they're low on magic.

❂❂❂

With a loud cry, Shadow Weaver launched herself at the thirty-foot-tall Underworm, turning her spear into a sword. Though less practiced with the latter weapon, it was best for cutting through, despite its weight.

The blade sank into the worm's tender flesh; the beast screamed, thrashing to the side. Micah shouted something from below, but Shadow Weaver simply narrowed her eyes at her target. This kill was hers. She was strong enough to handle it alone...

The sword, unable to stay in the Underworm's chest with her weight on it, ripped down the membrane. A stab of panic jolted through Shadow Weaver's stomach as the Underworm slammed its chest down across their path; she leaped out of the way before she could get crushed.

She skidded back toward Micah, who gripped her shoulders from behind. "Light Spinner. We do this together."

"Stop calling me –"

"Are you more concerned with making it out alive," he snapped, "or defending your selfish pride? For once in your life, accept some moons-forsaken help!"

Shadow Weaver gritted her teeth. He was right. Why did he have to keep being right? "Very well," she grumbled as the beast rose up again.

Micah gripped his staff. "If you distract it, I'll bind it. We have to choke that thing."

"My binding technique is stronger," Shadow Weaver said, sweat dripping on her face behind her mask. "You're a better decoy, anyway."

"Fine! Maybe –"

The Underworm slammed down across the path again, and Shadow Weaver rushed out of the way. A fierce shout from Micah heightened her panic as the stone cracked and trembled beneath her feet. If that creature felled the path, how would they get across?

She bit her lip as the Underworm rose again, Micah hanging onto one of its wide mandibles by the ring of his staff. Micah uttered a loud cry; his leg was mangled, and blood dripped down his ankle. Shadow Weaver put a hand to her mouth.

Ignoring that her magic was low, Shadow Weaver cast tendrils of kinesis magic around the monster – a complex, braided network of push commands. She squeezed, cracking its carapace; it screamed in agony and shook its head, trying to throw Micah off, but its own mandible was curved too sharply to succeed.

Micah hung by one hand, a blast of fire shining in his other. "Ready to see something stupid?" he called.

"As long as it works!"

He nodded, his hand sliding further. Then he let go of the staff, flying upward for just a moment to land a huge blast of fire into the beast's mouth. The Underworm's flesh must have been coated in oil – it combusted from the inside, screaming and thrashing.

Shadow Weaver's mouth dropped open in awe. And it was then that Micah began to fall.

✧✧✧

Micah wouldn't survive this descent. As the Underworm's face grew further away from him, his despair mounted. I'm going to die here. I'm going to –

Shadow Weaver grabbed him, slowing his fall as they tumbled to the ground. Then she turned around, ripped off her mask, and threw up. Micah's leg blazed with pain and numbness all at once, but he was still concerned. What had she done? Was she alright?

"Moons," she croaked, her breathing deep. Then she heaved again. "Embarrassing..." she choked out.

"Light...Shadow Weaver..." the world was hazy. "Are you okay?"

"I'm out of magic. No...no thanks to you." She replaced her mask and shuffled near him, her spear's light the sole illumination. "You're hurt."

"I think it's just a hairline fracture. Maybe on my ankle? I don't know. But Nell...he can help us. You should contact him."

"I don't trust Nell."

"Not surprising," Micah murmured. He sighed. "But I do. And we need his help."

Shadow Weaver touched his ankle. "I'll fix you up myself. That is, if you stop pretending to understand my pain."

"Do you know how to apply a splint?" he asked.

"I know basic field medicine. Hand me your belt."

Pulling off his belt and wrapping his overcoat tighter, Micah did as she asked; his shirt was fastened with metal clips anyway. Shadow Weaver wrapped it around his fracture; the pain was horrible.

"You're a strange woman," he murmured.

"So you've said."

He crushed his eyes shut; Shadow Weaver unsheathed one of her daggers and wrapped the belt around his ankle, immobilizing the fracture. "You look pale. Are you dizzy?"

Micah nodded. "Heart's still pounding."

"Moons above," she murmured. "How to treat you for shock..."

Shadow Weaver stared at him for a moment. Then she stood, stripping off her uniform. Micah reflexively looked away; his old teacher chuckled. "Don't act so embarrassed. I have an outfit underneath."

Micah looked back at her; she wore a simple black shirt and leggings, but no gloves. The scars on her hands and neck stood out starkly in the dim light. His heart plummeted, remembering he was the reason for those scars.

Shadow Weaver bent down, rolling up her uniform and placing the shirt beneath his head. Then she elevated his knees with her pants. The tenderness of her gestures reminded him of Nell, in a strange way. And he sighed, wishing she could forsake her pride and accept some help from the Del.

He found his voice. "Why did you pull your uniform off?"

"Because I have suitable undergarments. You do not."

"Any other reasons?"

"With all due disrespect, you are a married man, and I am old enough to be your mother."

Micah groaned. "You know that wasn't what I meant. Why did you take care of me?"

"A fair question."

"One that has an answer."

"Leaving you alone wouldn't bode well for either of us."

"Why? Wouldn't that be easier – your greatest enemy, dead?"

"Need I explain my moral code, Micah?" she said, though amusement laced her voice.

He closed his eyes, though he was nearly blind anyway. "No. But you can't fool me, Light Spinner. I know you're still in there somewhere."

"Light Spinner is a lie," Shadow Weaver whispered. "She was delaying the inevitable of what she would become, and refused to accept reality."

"Sometimes those are the best sorts of people," Micah said, meeting her blank eyes. "Those who don't live by others' rules. Those who are...free."

He hung onto the words for a while as they lay there in the dark. "Are you cold?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But it's not so bad."

Micah found her hand; the skin was rough beneath his palms. A scar. "Do they...still hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"We need to get you more magic," Micah said softly. "If not, you'll –"

Shadow Weaver cried out, curling into a ball as she released his hand. Her screams echoed throughout the room; Micah tried to lean over and help her, but he couldn't move far enough. "Please..." she sobbed. "Make it stop! Make it...make it make it make it..."

Her voice sounded animalistic, crazy. "Light Spinner, what's happening to you?" Micah asked. "Please, tell me!"

"Cannot cannot cannot –" she continued, a mangled screech in the darkness. Her breath came out in shuddering gasps, and suddenly she was silent.

Then she began to cry. Cry desperately, slamming her fists on the ground. "Go! You cannot feed off my suffering!"

"Who are you talking to?" Micah asked. "Is there someone in the room with us?"

"No! He is not yours!" she shouted to no one. "I will feed you, but get the hell out of my head! Stay in my heart, where you were conceived!"

"Light Spinner, focus on my voice," Micah said, forcing himself to be gentle. "I won't let you go. It's the Spell, isn't it?"

Shadow Weaver shuddered in the dark. "You were right," she whispered. "This place...it is driving me mad."

"Is there an eclipse soon? Maybe the magic will be stronger."

"Perhaps. I don't know."

Micah swallowed. "Don't talk. Just focus on my voice. Do you want me to sing for you?"

"What?"

"Sing. Like...like you did for me, back in Mystacor."

She sniffed. "Whatever."

He tried to find the tune, humming it before he started. "On a summer's night, the pauper reached, for the stars above his head. / And he had sought a princess' heart, hair pale crimson, cheeks so red. / He walked along the road that night, toward her wishing well. / And fished out four golden moons, knowing she couldn't tell..."

To his surprise, Shadow Weaver hummed the tune as he continued. His pain faded as they sang together, their voices melding into harmony, soft and tired in the dark. And when the song – twenty stanzas – was finished, they drifted off to sleep, the song their only lifeline in the midst of this horrid place.

❂❂❂

Did you know...

- I tried to strike a balance between personal responsibility and victimhood for Shadow Weaver, though I worry I veer too much in the latter direction sometimes. But to me, there were definitely times in the show when she straight-up lost control of herself because of the Spell. See S1x12 and S2x06.

- I decided that that creature in "The Coronation" that attacked the Best Friends' Squad was called an Underworm. Because I can.

Tell me what you think...

- What exactly is causing the Spell's grip over Shadow Weaver to become stronger?