The princes came out at the end of the spider's funnel-true to the bird's word. The spider was large enough that it left quite a few man sized gaps in the webbing if the man in question was careful.

Olbrecht motioned for both his brothers to go before him-he wasn't going to fit, so he needed to be quick in what he did.

With the others curved to the left, Olbrecht jammed himself through and pulled his sword, taking a swipe at the rightmost back leg. Thankfully, it turned from that direction to face him, hissing like like a ram's horn played badly.

It slammed its face into him, faster than he expected but whipped back around as Pawel swiped at its legs. Olbrecht cursed as this was going to be a game of speed, and he wasn't sure anyone else was quick enough. He managed to nick a leg and held his sword point first at the maw coming at him. That gave him enough time to glance at Anselm-halfway up the wall and starting to reach for the ceiling.

After that, there was no time. Swipe, point out, be pushed back against the webs, swipe, point out, a punch to an eye, causing it to rear up high enough for Ans to drop onto the join of head and body. The boy dropped hard.

The spider brassily warbled its rage, bucking around more like a horse than a spider-save that it looked like it used 2 extra dimensions.

Anselm managed to get the axe free and the first swipe hammered in above its left-central-upper beady red eye.

They thought the beast was enraged before? It tried climbing the walls over the 2 men still on the ground, intent on flipping over to crush the fool on its back.

Olbrecht took that chance and jabbed it in its underbelly-catching the book lung, digging in deep.

That released the air pressure in its body, causing its ability to scream to drop dramatically. Not that wet burbling was any better, but at least it wanted the one underneath itself and quit trying to climb the wall. Olbrecht was stuck with trying to keep 8 legs from stabbing him, underneath the beast.

Anselm managed to slam the axe into the cuticle before the spider seized in such a frenzy that he lost the axe. As he needed the harp at this point, it didn't worry him, much. He unwound the ropes, noticing a missing bird.

Pawel was watching Olbrecht's dance underneath the spider, looking for an opening-Anselm called him. "Pawel, where's the crow?.... WHERE'S THE CROW?!"

"Shove the harp in, get ready for that bird, alright?" Pawel's speech finally caught the spider's attention as it whipped around, hoping to bite something. Pawel got his sword up in time.

Anselm jammed the harp's head into the closest hole, and he held it in as the spider's legs gave in on the opposite side. "Get out from under it! Fucking crow, where are you?"

The bird's caw of laughter sounded over Anselm's head, as it dived for the other opening, shoving itself into the narrower crevice. The rest of the spider's legs gave up and they landed hard enough to flip Anselm off of it with the harp still in his grip-the head, thankfully, remained with the spider.

Anselm felt dizzy as the webs spun around him and faded. His brothers and the women stayed much as he last saw them-Olbrect alone in an epic pose of proweress. All were frozen while the background faded to the first chamber. His family had joined the knights in their eternal slumber, leaving him alone tas he victor.

It hurt.

Was it all for nothing?

"You have a choice to make, my friend."

Anselm wobbly made it to his feet and turned around on the spider slowly doing the same. It closed its beady red eyes, leaving behind one of polished obsidian and another with a far softer golden glow.

"Friend? What kind of friend are you?"

"One that can help. You know I'm the parts of your ancestors and the sorcerer that he couldn't use anymore: lost, forgotten, alone?"

"So, you spin off pieces of yourself so you won't be lonely?"

"In part, in part. I am bound by the same stories as you. We are the sacrificed ones, in exchange for immense power. What you choose to sacrifice governs the nature of that power."

"You're being too vague."

"Each generation is sacrificed to feed the fairytale-the lies that allow the remnant of the sorcerer to take on the face and memories of each new king-and as long as the people are happy, who cares if a monster rules?"

"It's not just and they aren't really happy." Anselm found his eyes rolling. "All he's done is ensure he's the only monster of this realm. Please, what am I doing here?"

"Your choice is to sacrifice yourself to me, continue the sorcerer's hold on your nation, or sacrifice me to you, and you become the source of power that backs your brothers in a fight for the throne."

The fool snorted derisively. "Such immense power, doing nothing but sitting here."

"You can't do nothing. You will give away pieces of your own heart as fairytales until there's no love left in you because your nature will become like mine-and already is."

Anselm shuddered. He could feel the tears he refused to spill welling up. It really was all for nothing. "And then I'll die alone."

"I won't die alone. I have you to kill me."

The prince took a deep breath. "Has anyone else ever made it this far?"

"Three generations ago, the firstborn was suitable, and she chose to end her brothers."

"Great-great Aunt Helmi? I thought she died in childbirth shortly after she married."

"She died on my fangs...I still remember the pain of that and think that it was the right decision."

"Why?" Anselm could follow the change in person, but there was no change to the spider's voice.

"My brothers were worse than the sorcerer. Killing me was the least painful thing someone had ever done to me."

There wasn't anything to say to that, but Anselm couldn't stop there. "So, why me?"

"It's the capacity to love. Olbrecht has a place in his heart for one woman and doesn't even know she's the one. There's more love in Pawel, but he's stingy, and would hoard it for himself instead of spending it all. You're the only one who will sacrifice himself for another despite fear. You're a bundle of misery, but you know you'll do this."

"How?" Anselm meant to ask how the spider knew so much about him, but it decided to interpret it as a request for instructions. Probably for the best, as I don't want to know why it understands me.

"Take the axe off the table behind you and the glass, cut off my limb between joints. Drink my blood as I would have yours."

"I don't have to drink it through a crucifix straw again, do I? "

The spider wheezed. "I had almost forgotten that...husband."

A chalice with the axe resting on the rim-- the same prehistoric flint, miniaturized-- was so dainty after the struggle to just damage the spider that now patiently waited for death. He had nearly ended himself trying to harm the spider, but to now end it, he could raise his pinkie like a dowager drinking tea.

Anselm brought the blade gently across the spider's leg. It fell off like a nail clipping. Blood poured into the chalice and overflowed onto the stone below them.

"How much should I drink?"

"As deeply as possible, so the change may be quick."

Anselm grimaced, expelled his breath, and drank like a parched man. The copper and iron he could take-he bit his cheek often enough. It was thick and tasted like mushrooms and bog butter. He had to force the word spider from his mind, to keep swallowing. When finished, he dropped both the axe and the cup to fall to his knees, gasping. That didn't help because the spider turned to ash and coated his face and hair, getting under the collar of his suit.

It itched infernally. He started pulling off his armor, unable to bear anything close to his skin, and got further coated in filth.

He burned like a torch, felt numbed as ice--everything felt flayed.

Then Anselm ceased to exist.