Rainbows filled her universe. The distant roar Inyx always experienced when shifting from one world to the next using the cenotaph seemed muted this time, but she paid it little attention. This was the first time in many months she had walked the Road without Lan beside her.

The dark-haired woman didn’t know if she liked that or not.

“This looks fair enough, even for ones like ourselves,” said Inyx’s companion. Ducasien stretched mightily and yawned, rubbing his stubbled chin and walking about the small graveyard. They had emerged on a hillside looking down on a barren expanse stretching off to a meandering river, its banks bursting from the spring runoffs.

“There’s promise in the air,” she agreed.

Behind her came a low moan and a rattling noise. She turned to see the giant spider Krek emerging from the cenotaph. Huge mandibles moved aside the stone coffin lid and as easily moved it back when the arachnid was fully transported into this world.

“What’s wrong, Krek?” she asked.

“Oh, friend Inyx, it is terrible, so positively terrible. I ache all over. My exoskeleton is in terrible shape. Look at the dents, the horrid gashes, even the burn marks. Burn marks! Why did I ever do such an insane thing? Why?”

“What’s that?” asked Ducasien.

“Leave my lovely bride Klawn and go a’wandering along the thrice-cursed Road,” answered the spider, glad to find a human willing to listen to his plight. “You have not seen gentle, petite Klawn, have you, friend Ducasien?”

“Can’t say that I have,” the man admitted. He frowned in confusion. Inyx caught his eye and made gestures indicating “petite” Klawn was even larger than Krek.

Krek stuck out his long, coppery-furred legs and scraped chitinous talons on the tips against a tombstone.

“Nicks. There are nicks in my talons. A disgrace. No Webmaster allows himself to deteriorate so. I shame myself. Oh, woe!”