How long had he been cowering? The creatures had barked and yipped at the mouth of his home for days, slavering with hunger, desperate to crack his shell and tear out the soft flesh within. Sometimes Styx would dare extend a thin, trembling spider limb, testing if the Muckroaches had finally gone… only for them to lunge from the shadows, snapping at him. Each time he would recoil, vanishing deeper into the safety of his tangled nest. In quieter moments, he almost missed his old mistress. Cruel though she had been at times, she offered protection. And in return, he had provided.

…

The sudden sound of metal slicing through air, followed by the wet crunch of flesh, jolted Styx from his restless slumber. He blinked, his skull-like mask tilting as he peered down into the gloom below.

A warrior stood amidst the corpses of the Muckroaches. Relief rippled through Styx’s carapace, mingled with a shiver of fear and anticipation. Slowly, cautiously, he crept forward, emerging from the shadows of his nest. His six limbs clutched at the strands of webbing, his body trembling as a low hiss escaped him.

The warrior lowered themselves onto the old bench outside his lair, which had gone untouched for years. Styx tilted his head, quivering faintly as his antler-like horns glowed pale in the dim.

“Ssssso ssssmall… yet sssso deadly… I ssssaw what you did…” he hissed, his voice a rasp from behind the mask. His claws tightened on the threads of his web. “You have come to claim me. And I am yoursss… your humble ssslave…”

For in his world, the strong must claim the weak. And Styx, despite his strange form, was weak.