Chapter Text
No one dared to go near it. The highest mountain in the dream world was in itself horrible, as was everything else in that place of madness and pain. The peak even went through the kaleidoscope of a sky, piercing through it like a gray needle. What made it more horrible was the fog rolling down the dark cliffs. It clung to the ground almost animal-like, a white, thick substance that did not follow the wind, but moved resolutely and inexorably further. The mere sight was enough to impale mortal minds with terror, but if you were stupid or unlucky enough to breathe it, you were rewarded with a long and painful death.
No one knows what caused the toxicity of the mist; its mechanics were too complicated even for many of the terrible deities of the Outer Realm. Only the symptoms following breathing were known massive white abscesses spreading on the skin, degeneration of tissue, coughing up white dust, and immense pain throughout the body. This plague also spread to other worlds, ignoring vigorous attempts to curb the spread of disease and fog. Somehow, the disgusting particles managed to slip through the cracks of universes and infect all living things.
It managed to ignite a terrible fear of death, which steadily turned into apathy in its victims and their loved ones. The certainty of an end that you simply can't do anything about. And why even care about anything when everything is just pain and suffering that infects you regardless of your deeds. It was only one cruel coincidence that destroyed everything in you prematurely.
Until it ended. The deadly fog evaporated into the air. It caused symptoms to all the residents of the nearby area, who had settled a good several hundred kilometers away. There were deaths, but much less than predicted. From that moment on, the mountain has been bare, just a gloomy stone pillar that reminds of one’s smallness in the universe.
The event ignited much wonder as it did fear. People didn't dare to rejoice, there were no good miracles in the Outer Realm. A group of young folks, equally brave and stupid, were sent to climb to the top of the mountain to find out what had happened and probably face their end. Each member was given a fragile crystal that, if broken, would send the last thoughts of the person holding it to the receiver.
The young people said goodbye to their families and embarked on their suicide mission. The mountain was as unforgiving as it looked. Its surface, almost smooth without even the memory of burrows, rose almost like a wall. However, the missionaries did not give up. They dragged themselves non-stop up the wall, getting their fingers bloody as they stuffed them into non-existent gaps. More than half of them fell during the ascent, silently rushing towards the ground. Their companions couldn't waste a moment mourning, so they just kept climbing without looking down.
Eventually, they made it to the top, as languished and hollow human ghosts, but still. In front of them was a temple of unadorned beauty. It rose as an extension of the mountain seamlessly, sharing its rocky material. However, there was nothing organic in the temple’s forms. The straight lines and shiny walls spoke of some kind of care, or just the general strangeness of the Outer Realm. There was a small platform in front of the building, from which stairs rose to its doorless entrance. The other walls joined the mountain, which continued down indefinitely. The ground was nowhere to be seen. There was only the menacing temple and a sea of stars surrounding it.
One of them regained his energy quickly enough to use it to study the façade. The walls of the temple were engraved with miraculous geometric patterns and inscriptions in the language of gods. Finding the courage to peek overboard, this young man saw a square opening on the slope of the mountain. It was still leaking a white haze, so the young man assumed that this had acted as a kind of nozzle for all the evil that his people had suffered.
As the whole group regained their energy, they headed up a short staircase and into the horrible building. The interior was dim and dusty. The white smoke floated above the floor, but the members of the group were no longer afraid of it at this point. They wouldn't return from this trip anyway. After lighting a few torches, they were able to see white matter hanging from the ceiling. It spread out like a spider's web but looked more like silk. No one was willing to touch it.
The trip changed terribly, but not surprisingly, very quick. Creatures wrapped in white silk robes attacked from the corners, grabbing the young one by one. No one stopped to help. The survivors ran toward the core of the temple with the sole goal of accomplishing their mission. Still, the screams, or lack thereof, echoed from the stone walls. No one could be sure if they heard anything; The perceived sound seemed imaginary. None of them, however, had the capability to imagine the inhuman scream, drowned out by the wet crunches of the flesh.
The crowd dispersed so that at least one of them could find the center. One of them did slip into the large hall. It was warmer than the rest of the temple, which was their last rational thought before their eyes landed on a lump in the middle of the space. It was also draped in web-like silk but was much larger than the previous creatures. It also shared white skin and spider-like legs, but that was the end of the similarities. In the middle of the floor lay a large round mass, from which protruded countless bone-white, talon-like legs. It seemed to exude a hellish white mist with every deep, but impossibly silent breath. Through the silks, the youngling swore that they could see eyes, blacker than the space between stars. But he also felt that the creatures gaze was not on them.
There was someone else in the creature's arms. His calm breathing filled the space quietly, but with extraordinary clarity. He looked to be... sleeping? A sturdy man, with healthy and deep brown skin, a calm sleeping face, and thick night-black hair that seemed to be braided by the caricature of a spider. This contradiction in the creature's terrible nature and the tenderness with which it handled the man caused the last sensible thread to break in the young one’s mind. They fell to their knees and began screaming, until a blow to the back of the head prevented them from disturbing the sleep of the Recluse Spider’s human.