Shiver stared into soft, brown eyes.

  The son of her greatest enemy.

  Caledon Brimstone. Son of Highlord Berevan Brimstone, the man who had incinerated Blaze, Pov and Marta.

  Viveria and Caledon were popular amongst Brimstone’s citizens. The Highlord’s progeny and the future of Brimstone, the flame to cast away the darkness of mediocrity, as Brimstone strove for innovation.

  Shiver had spat when she first heard the metaphor. Nevermind that he looked her very own age, the boy before her did not inspire much confidence.

  Her mind rested only on a single thought.

  How would the mighty Highlord like it if I take his son away from him.

  Even if she did, there would still be due. Blaze, Pov and Marta’s lives did not amount to the life of a single lordling.

  Yet, the very same lordling had aided them in their escape.

  "Shiver, please. You saw what he did. We could use all the help we can get!’

  "She’s right Shiver!"

  The elf slowly lowered her daggers of ice. The boy was stocky, having inherited his father’s physique. At his full height, he was at least a head or two taller than Vale and Shiver.

  Conveniently, he was sat pressed up against the pair of twin stone doors, giving Shiver’s daggers easy access to his jugular. Just as easily as they had materialised, Shiver’s ice daggers dissipated as she dismissed them. The boy didn't appear to be hostile - that could change quickly.

  She turned, and swiftly took in their surroundings before her gaze returned to Caledon.

  "Where are we Icey?"

  The ice cube’s voice took on a questioning tone.

  "Shouldn’t you be familiar with it Shiver? This is where elves go to awaken as Fearshapers!"

  "I didn’t awaken in a temple."

  Silence hung in the air around them. Then Caledon frowned.

  Wait a minute… why aren’t we hearing the sounds of the commotion outside? Perhaps they’re trying to evade the attention of the Terrors?

  Caledon strained, and couldn’t hear a sound.

  No… whatever this place is, it’s sealed us off from the outside.

  "You must have forgotten silly! And don’t worry, we’ll be safe in here, they won’t be able to just barge into a temple while the awakening ritual is in progress."

  The group froze, and looked to the little ice cube in concert.

  "Awakening ritual?"

  Right on cue, tendrils of darkness that had coated the exterior of the temple doors surfaced from the ground beneath them. Caledon took in the room around him for the first time.

  Its interior seemed to defy physics.

  Where the temple had looked like a squat building, shorter by far than the towers that filled the Archcity of Fear, its interior was immense.

  A mural was revealed by the soft, golden torchlight that flickered within the temple. Caledon struggled to decipher the cryptic scene.

  The flaring torchlight revealed what had previously been concealed, and it came into focus. It depicted a figure resembling an arachnid, towering over elves, extending its appendages generously to the elves beneath it. They bowed towards it in supplication.

  In the background, towered an indecipherable monster of immense scale, dwarfing all beneath it.

  And above it all, were two circles in the sky. One of gold and one of silver.

  Valefor and Idriel – Elucidor’s twin moons?

  Then, he dropped to the floor. Vale joined him, and the pair lay still.

  Shiver’s eyes widened.

  "Icey! What’s happening?"

  "They’re awakening! They’re becoming Fearshapers!"

  Shiver’s gaze sharpened, as she watched the room darken around her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the mural around her. Possessing a smile of fangs, split from ear to ear, bearing her own visage.

  When she blinked, it disappeared.

  "Icey, if you don’t explain yourself right now, I swear-"

  "Shiver."

  Icey’s voice was solemn, a jarring departure from her usual, cheery and childlike self. Shiver hesitated, her eyes lingering on the ice cube beneath her.

  "Allow them to claim their birthright. As you did before them."

  ---

  Vale’s eyes snapped open as she stared at an unfamiliar roof.

  "A clothen roof. Design unique to the Jade isles and those curious elves. My word, I never thought Tutor Visca’s lessons would actually come in handy."

  She rose slowly, and noticed that she was in a room, enclosed on all sides with doors of fabric. Her toes curled against a wooden floor as she peered at what looked like a receptionist’s desk before her.

  Something rose from behind the desk.

  Suspended on eight legs, bearing a weight that they had no business holding aloof, stood an immense spider. Of no breed or species that was known to Vale. Had she known it, she would have promptly advocated for its eradication. As it was, she was powerless to bring her will into reality.

  So she screamed, running towards the back of the room, pressing her shoulders against the wall.

  "Get away from me, you foul creature! I’ll kill you!"

  "My, my. How violent your words are, young Vale Revenant."

  Vale’s eyes widened, as the spider spoke to her, in a teasing tone, often adopted by the friendlier of her tutors. She watched in horror as it casually stepped over its desk and approached her, casting a vast shadow on the ground beneath it.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  "Perhaps it is unsurprising, given your membership to the house of death, that you would wish it upon my species."

  Vale twitched at a sudden chittering noise, stiffening as she realised that the spider appeared to be laughing.

  The spider crept closer to her, lowering its multitude of eyes to come level with Vale’s own. Had Vale not been so preoccupied with her immediate terror, she would have admired the cut of its smart tuxedo.

  "But fear not-"

  The spider winked at her behind its multitude of monocles.

  "-I’m friendly."

  Vale promptly fainted, the sound of chittering echoing in her ears as her consciousness faded away.

  ---

  "If I may ask, Sir…?"

  "Matchmaker, young Brimstone. Charmed."

  Caledon stared at the exceedingly well-dressed and distinguished spider. The image of Silas, his butler was brought to mind, though he doubted his friend would have appreciated the comparison.

  Caledon gulped.

  He had never been so grateful for the etiquette training his mother had hammered into him. It was the only thing keeping him going in the face of the immense, articulate arachnid.

  "You say, you are here to find me a… match?"

  "Indeed I am! I see here… you have a unique Fear. One that bears multiple layers to it."

  The spider appeared to sadden visibly, hunching on its spindly legs.

  "Oh dear, how unfortunate. How paradoxical."

  It shook its immense head, its monocles flashing in the gentle light of the room.

  "How fascinating. It presents you with a considerable opportunity, young lord!"

  "What Fear… do I possess, Sir Matchmaker?"

  The spider chittered, giving him a short, elegant bow.

  "Now, now, Lord Caledon. That will be for you to uncover during the course of your descent."

  Caledon gaped wordlessly as the spider swept him up in its arms. The Matchmaker carried him along, pushing open a door to exit the “reception” area he had awoken in. It proceeded down a long wooden corridor.

  Filled with rooms.

  ---

  Vale awakened, to find the Matchmaker towering over her. It carried her as it navigated swiftly through the hallway, a multitude of different rooms flashing before her vision, the spider moving too fast for her to make out their interiors.

  "Ah! Young Revenant, welcome back! I trust the journey has not been too uncomfortable?"

  She was sorely tempted to faint again.

  The Matchmaker slowed, entering a dark room. Motes of dust flicked in and out of focus as they caught the light.

  The room before her resembled a crypt.

  It was lined with several gigantic, regal stone tombs that lay vertically on the ground at even intervals. Whoever laid in them, was sure to have attained the respect of the people that honoured them, to create such a grand resting place for them.

  It put Soulhaven’s own crypts to shame in their craftsmanship. The Feardamned Archcity of Death.

  Where was she?

  The spider laid her down gently on the floor. Then, stepping back, it gestured towards the implements before her.

  She frowned as she turned her gaze towards implements that reminded her of the relics they had stumbled upon in the guildmistress’ vault.

  The first, on her very left, was a simple ritual dagger. A plan, curved blade with the hint of a bloodstain on its edge. The weapon of a murderer, eager to inflict death.

  The second, was a mirror, its surface enshrouded with black fog. Vale frowned as she stared into it, but no amount of focus allowed her to pierce its depths.

  The third beside it, was a shortsword.

  Vale heaved, at the sight of the shortsword, struggling to keep down her rising nausea. It reminded her of his Phobia.

  The fourth, was a small lantern, with a flickering pale flame.

  The final implement – no Phobia was a small scepter.

  Every Phobia was wrought from ivory, emblematic of her Fear of death. How appropriate.

  "You have the choice of a guide, before you. From left to right, the burden that they imposed will be as such:

  [Minimal]

  [Moderate]

  [Severe]

  [Legendary]

  [Mythic]

  Your decision will inform the difficulty of your descent. A guide of greater power, will bring greater threats. Though-"

  The spider chittered softly with laughter. At first, she thought the spider was mocking her. But as she met his gaze, it bowed slightly.

  "Your resolve is strong. That is unlikely to deter you, is it?"

  Vale wordlessly walked to the Phobia placed on her extreme right.

  "I must warn you… you who despise death will come to be defined by it. Are you sure-"

  She silently picked up the ivory scepter, the [Mythic] guide. The Matchmaker inclined its body towards her, as if in respect.

  "I believe he will be an excellent guide to you. He resonates with your determination and bravery. Of all the guides you could have chosen…"

  The spider’s voice lowered, adopting a tenderness and care that surprised her, as his soft voice washed over her.

  "Few comprehend the very depths of death itself, but he was one of them. A beautiful choice."

  The Matchmaker paused as it glanced towards the regal crypt around them, turning back to Vale with a smile.

  She would have found it terrifying, but the Matchmaker’s sincerity was clear.

  ---

  "Your Fear is unique, young Caledon."

  "As you’ve mentioned, Sir… Matchmaker."

  The Matchmaker stood in a curious room.

  A throneroom.

  In one corner, a hearth burned with a comforting flame. Standing before him, were countless layers of steps leading up to a golden throne. An immense window rose above it, and as the light filtered down, he blinked as it cut into his vision. Motes of dust floated before him, illuminated by the rays.

  "It is difficult to allocate you an appropriate Guide. I believe… Yes."

  The spider nodded solemnly, looking to Caledon with concern.

  "I’m afraid the nature of your Fear limits your options for a guide. A rare circumstance. But given the breath of Fears that elves are tormented by, a foreseeable problem. Thankfully, there is a guide suited to you."

  He gestured to a single, simple torch, that lay at the foot of the steps.

  "Do not be deceived, by its simple appearance. For he is a [Mythic] guide. He may be unkind at times, but do not be fall to the deception, as your Fear often seeks to inflict. I only regret not being able to offer you a guide of a lesser burden, were that your wish."

  The matchmaker’s voice reached him once again. Kind and tender in his tone.

  "He is the best guide for you, Lord Brimstone. As I always seek to deliver-"

  Its head fell, as it appeared to defer to Caledon with a strange reverence and respect.

  "Elves deserve no less."

  The matchmaker’s eyes gleamed in the gold of the room around him.

  "I’m afraid my selection will challenge you. Perhaps you will resent me, for my choice. But… I believe that he is the one you need."

  The Matchmaker gave him a terrifying, but kind smile.

  "And most certainly, the same can be said of you, for him."

  Caledon stood motionless in the room around him.

  He couldn’t help but feel...

  Like he was sullying it with his very presence.

  ---

  "Now I ask-"

  The Matchmaker’s words rang in their ears. Echoing through the haunting crypt and resplendent room alike.

  "Do you vow to face your Fear?"

  Vale steeled herself, sensing the gravity of his words. She reached up instinctively to cling to a necklace that lay, cold against her throat. For all of Shiver’s perceptiveness, her eyes had never been drawn to it. It was a silly, ugly, primitive thing to anyone’s eyes. No masterpiece of Brimstone smiths – the very opposite. The makings of a child. Crude in its form, but pure in its intent.

  Her nails threatened to part the skin of her palm as she gave her response.

  ---

  The question echoed in Caledon’s ears, ringing with a gravity that he could not deny.

  He struggled to keep the tears from his eyes, eventually succumbing to them.

  ---

  Both young elves answered in kind.

  Though their answers differed in form – one resolute, and one resigned – they carried the same unyielding, unwavering conviction.

  "I do."

  The Matchmaker broke into a warm smile – one that he had afforded to all elves that came before him – they were all equally as deserving of it, no matter the circumstance.

  "Then I wish you the best of luck. Embrace your Fear, young elf."