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“So…grandma shows up, and says ‘shit or get off the pot, stupid.’ Is that it?” She wiped a hand down her face. “Do you even care whose side I take? Do you even care if your fae children live or die? Or the humans?”

Silence.

She was seriously on her own. What did she have? Two shards. A magical book. And hints that something was off. The Web was still spreading because she was tapping into it—using it, but no one would explain to her how. “Can you tell me this, though? What happens if I use all three shards?”

“You become the Weaver in truth. You shall join with the entity.”

“Right. But. Me. What happens to me? Everybody is giving me a different story. Serrik says I’ll become his hollowed-out, mindless puppet of war.

Valroy is telling me that if I stay here, I’ll have the option to choose.

I honestly don’t believe either of them, because neither are giving me the full story.

Can you please tell me which is it? Do I become Serrik’s mindless puppet of war?

Do I become Valroy’s weapon of mass destruction?

Or do I have any chance of staying myself in all this? ”

Finally, the goddess spoke. “It is up to you to decide your fate.”

“That isn’t…that isn’t an answer. That’s cryptic, and I’m done with cryptic half-truths. Are you telling me that I can decide whether or not to be a hollowed-out puppet of war or stay myself?”

Silence.

She was going to cry. Ava buried her fists in her hair and squeezed the strands, the sting keeping her from either swearing, screaming, or sobbing. She wanted to do all of the above, in any order, or all at the same time.

It seemed the Morrigan took some kind of pity on her. “You will decide what you become. Mindless…or in control of yourself.”

“I’d thank you, but you made weird rules for you and your kids.

” She dropped her hands to her sides with an audible slap.

“So, I’ll say…that’s a fucking relief. Well, I’m going to choose to stay myself, duh.

” She laughed, exhausted. If there was one person she figured she should probably take at face value, it was the goddamn Morrigan.

“You may yet change your mind.”

The way she said it. So devoid of feeling. So devoid of anything— sent a shiver down Ava’s spine. She stared at the Morrigan, her eyes wide, and felt a sense of impending dread unlike any that Serrik or Valroy had created.

Whatever she was going to learn—whatever was the truth about the Web, about the nature of what she was becoming—was so terrible she might decide losing her sense of self was better. I did choose his poison, didn’t I? I chose to surrender control. Because it was easier than facing what I wanted.

The nagging voice in the back of her head grew louder. She wanted to pretend like she wouldn’t ever pick giving herself up to an eldritch, cosmic entity, rather than face whatever horrifying revelation they were all hiding from her. But in reality? Could she actually say that for certain?

Everybody wanted to say they’d leap on the loaded hand grenade to save a room full of innocent children and puppies, even if it meant that they’d die. Everybody wanted to say they’d be strong and brave when it counted. Nobody wanted to admit they were weak and cowardly.

But nobody knew until they got there. Nobody knew until they were faced with it, did they?

And she was no fucking different in the end.

But the choice would be hers. And she could take real, real solace in that. “What I also don’t understand is this—and, again, I very much appreciate you taking the time to speak to me. I get it. I’m just a small stupid human who got sucked into things way above her pay grade.”

A rustle of leaves in the trees. Maybe something that could have been taken as amusement. She had no way of knowing.

So, she kept talking. “The shards.” She gestured at the book.

“ Serrik told me that I needed to use them to complete the transformation. But here, in Tir n’Aill, I was told that I’m going to turn into the Web no matter what I do.

Which is it? And then Serrik gives me this thing,”—she lifted her hand to gesture at the bracelet—“he told me it would keep the Web fro—” She broke off suddenly.

No.

That wasn’t what he said.

That wasn’t what he said at all, was it?

He said that it would keep the tattoo from spreading.

But the tattoo was a symptom, not the cause.

It was one of those signs they put out in front of the local library shaped like a thermometer to show off how close they were to reaching their fundraising goal.

It had nothing to do with the actual money raised.

The bracelet was just for show. To make her feel better.

“Fuck!” She shouted. Then she stared at the Morrigan with wide eyes. “Um. Sorry.”

Silence.

The Morrigan had probably heard a great deal worse in her day, to be fair.

“I’ll take that part up with your son.” She flinched. “The green one.” She really was digging herself a hole here, wasn’t she? “About needing to use the shards to become the Web, but my turning into the Web anyway in Tir n’Aill. Which is it? Which is true?”

“Neither…and both.”

And it seemed with that, either the Morrigan’s patience with her was done, or she’d run out the clock. Because with her last word, the woman exploded into a giant cloud of ravens that sent Ava ducking and covering her head once more.

Birds.

Why was it always fucking birds with these people? Ava decided she really didn’t like talking to gods and cosmic horrors. At least the Morrigan was…kind of useful. She’d given Ava a few helpful pieces of information.

Kind of .

Mostly.

The bracelet was a load of crap.

It would be Ava’s choice to decide what she became—mindless or in control of herself.

That she might not want to keep her mind her own when she discovered the big secret everyone was trying to keep from her.

But somehow, it was the last one that kept spinning over in her mind, as she straightened back up. The last exchange with the Morrigan that was troubling her the most. Like a loose thread on a sweater that she couldn’t help but want to just pull on.

The grimoire on the altar was now closed, its rusted iron latches snapped shut. All evidence of what she knew was hidden inside—the two mirrored shards—invisible from the outside.

If the shards were meant to turn her into the Web—and the shattered mirror was necessary to complete the transformation?

Then how was it also true that she was still becoming the Web, now?

The contradiction was obvious, now that it was laid out before her. And just like a thread, itchy, dangling, she wanted to yank on it.

She knew everything would all come undone when she did.

Valroy might tell her the answer.

But she knew who she was going to demand the truth from first

Picking up Book, she tucked it under her arm and shut her eyes.

She had a spider to yell at.