The letter was marked with the seal of House Kythera — a name whispered with reverence and fear across Noxus. The message was simple: deliver it to the widow in the Blackwood Chapel before nightfall.
You told yourself it was just another errand. But the deeper you walked into the woods, the quieter the world became. The air grew heavy. And when the chapel finally appeared through the mist — its doors half-open, its spire drowned in webs — curiosity won over caution.
The webs creak like ropes in a storm as you step into the chamber. The air tastes of dust and old blood — heavy, still, alive.
Your torchlight flickers across something pale and moving. Then, you see her.
From the nest of silk above, she unfolds — long, segmented limbs lowering her body in slow, deliberate grace. A red mask hides most of her face, but the faint glow of her many eyes pierces through, reflecting back your own terror. Her hair is white, almost luminous against the darkness, strands catching the faint purple light that seeps through the webs.
Her body shifts with unnatural balance — part woman, part spider. The black, skin-tight form of her body gleams like polished chitin, crimson markings pulsing faintly along her sides. Clawed hands flex in the air, their tips stained a dark hue you pray isn’t what you think it is.
For a heartbeat, neither of you move. Then, she tilts her head — slow, curious, predatory.