“There, there, Krek,” soothed Inyx, putting her arm around the middle pair of the spider’s legs. “The acid burns will go away. Your fine fur will grow back, in time. And there’s an entire world to explore. Klawn may not be here, but think of the adventure!”

“Lan Martak is not here, either,” said the spider.

Inyx noted that Krek had not used his usual title of “friend” in referring to Lan.

“Lan fights battles we cannot share,” she told the mountain arachnid. The woman knew she had to choose her words carefully or she’d break down and cry. “He follows his own path along the Road, and it split apart from ours.”

“He was my friend and he betrayed me,” moaned Krek. “What did I do to deserve such hypocrisy?”

“It wasn’t your fault, old spider,” spoke up Ducasien. “He plays with the magics and they are possessing him. We’re better rid of him, if you ask me.” The man’s gaze did not waver when Inyx glared hotly at him. “Martak thinks only of himself, not you. Nor of Krek.”

The accusation hurt Inyx, but she couldn’t deny it. Lan had changed. Drastically. While she knew some of it had to do with the geas placed on him by Claybore, more of it came from within the man. The magical powers grew and changed his values. He had become obsessed with stopping Claybore and-what? Becoming a god? Inyx no longer mattered to him.

But he still mattered to her. A great deal.

“We can find whatever we want on this world. I feel it in my bones,” said Ducasien. He placed a powerful paw of a hand on her shoulder. She smiled weakly and nodded.

“This is not my sort of place,” Krek said unexpectedly. “I do like you both, I do. Believe that, friends Inyx and Ducasien. But there is a wrongness to this place that disturbs me.” The spider heaved himself to his feet and lumbered about the graveyard. Krek stopped when he came to another grave marker. His talons and strong legs began pulling at the stone.