Nightmare Game
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 72
Tela’s intel wasn’t ironclad truth; her lens on reality might be warped, a half-picture at best.
As for Arachnis, her lips stayed sealed beyond what the village already spun.
Ethan pivoted, probing another angle. “Tela, this tradition of outsiders helping with the Ceremony—is that baked into the village’s bones? And if so, why drag in strangers?”
She nodded, her voice soft as petals falling. “It’s been that way since forever. You’ve seen the village: small, not exactly bursting with folks.”
“For the place to keep going, Madam Arachne pulls in guests from the outside. They’re welcomed with open arms, join the Ceremony, and if they vibe with our ways, some stay, woven into the village’s fabric.”
“This world’s a gauntlet for humans, full of teeth and claws. Arachnis’s domain? It’s a safe haven, her name alone a beacon for those looking to plant roots.”
“That’s why the custom holds, why you’re here, right?”
Ethan mulled it over, sensing a mismatch in their stories. Back in Castle’s time, he’d learned this world started empty of humans, only for them to pop up later, their origins scribbled vaguely in some dusty library tome.
How they got here was a mystery for another day, but Tela’s version of the Ceremony likely pictured Arachnis summoning locals from this world’s corners.
Hence her talk of a perilous existence.
But once Arachnis’s turf morphed into Dreamplay for reasons unknown, the game changed. She started yanking people from her world, and the Ceremony’s flavor shifted, darker.
“So what’s different about the Ceremony now versus back then? What happens if we pull it off?”
Tela shook her head, silver hair catching the light. “I’ve been gone too long; the village’s ways are a fog to me now.”
Her lips pressed tight, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. “After the rebellion, Madam Arachne ... changed. She’s heavy-handed now. I can’t say if the Ceremony’s still what it was.”
No easy answers, then. The path to survival hinged on the Ceremony, that much was clear. Finish it, and maybe they’d walk free. If not? The worst kind of nightmare loomed.
“First night here, the village head threw us a bonfire shindig,” Ethan said. “Villagers were singing this Arachnis folk tune, but it felt ... cut off. You know the rest of it?”
He’d been hung up on that song since it played, its melody simple enough to stick after one go. Humming it now for Tela was no sweat.
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