HP: Spirit Talker

POV Junko Hoshino

The years had long since merged into a single gray stream, and the woman didn't count the days and months, she simply didn't need to. A spark of hope with purple eyes flickered and disappeared among the hateful people, and the grayness returned.

The drugs served with the food managed to be destroyed by whatever drops of magic remained in the body from the suppression amulets. But that doesn't change what the woman understands: her clan is dead. Her son is clearly subjugated. She managed to see him a few times from a distance, but at first glance, she realized everything and lost her flickering hope.

Why live? For what? Or for whom? Another year or two, and the boy would finally submit, join the Miyazaki clan, and then Hoshino would truly be forgotten. It's a shame that she can't even take revenge, her body weakened by the drugs and magic suppressors, she's no stronger than a normal woman now.

Of course, she could throw herself at one of the elders, slaughter a few or three pigs. But what good would that do? Exactly, nothing, although it's a nice way to kill herself, since she has a vow that forbids her to lay hands on herself. But if others killed her...

Today we spent the whole day sewing clothes. It had been a tradition for a long time to involve her in this kind of work, not too heavy, but tedious and long, which made her back, arms and eyes ache. She had been enlightened as to what kind of celebration this was, and congratulated her son on his accomplishment — middle skill at fifteen was indeed an accomplishment, and something to be proud of. But somehow it's not.

Out of the dark, sticky room that her vivid dreams had long since turned into, the woman was pulled out of the dark, sticky room by a strange sensation, as if someone were poking her cheek with a magic wand. It was something she hadn't expected. Finding a switch in the darkness, the woman turned on a small nightlight and marveled — a large spider was sitting beside her, looking at her calmly.

Only small movements of strange limbs, like crab claws, told her that the spider was alive. She even shuddered with fear as the thing slowly moved forward, even wanted to scream — there was nothing she could do to defend herself against such a thing. But then her gaze fell on a small tube in the spider's claws. Her gaze had slipped away from it earlier.

The spider approached slowly, held the tube at arm's length, stepped back and froze. To say she was surprised would be to say nothing. For several minutes the woman pondered in silence, looking at the spider and what seemed to be some kind of message.

Attempts to weave the logical chains of assumptions of a sick mind into such a horrible knot that even she recognized them as excessive paranoia, far-fetched. Why such a twisted tactic? To get her on to something? What's the point — she's at the mercy of the Miyazaki clan? Anyway, after a few minutes, the woman picked up the note and unfolded it under the nightlight.

"Hello, Mom!

I won't apologize for my inattention and silence all these years, I'll just say this: I've always been controlled and drugged with various substances. It was only today that my mind finally cleared and I realized how much time I missed..."

Junko's hands were trembling, tears running down her cheeks, but the woman didn't notice, eagerly reading the perfect handwriting that she remembered only her grandmother could boast of, her grandfather a little worse.

"...But still, I prepared to escape, and I didn't forget you in my plans. In six days — on the seventh my wedding is to take place, so we will run away at night on the eve of the 'holiday'. My letters can be carried either by spiders, like this one, or by little fireflies — they are magic dolls whose eyes I can look through...".

After reading the last word, the woman didn't hold back and looked at the spider, as if trying to see her son through it. After a few seconds, the doll responded. The spider moved left and right, spun around, crouched low, and spread its claws. "HE'S WATCHING..." — went through the woman's mind and she smiled broadly, the doll waved its claw at her in response and made a strange pushing gesture. Junko understood and went back to writing.

"...And control them. That's done. DO NOT EAT ANYTHING! Do what you want, but don't eat what they bring you. You'll find bundles of food and powder by your bed — you MUST eat it! It will help you recover a bit. One last thing — the spider is wearing a ring — it's a protective artifact, it only works on damage just above "

"moderate", "severe" and "fatal". That's it for now. I'll write more. See you soon!

Sora Hoshino."

I wanted to scream with joy, but I couldn't. Turning to the spider, now without fear, Hoshino Junko stretched out her hand and the doll quickly approached. The woman immediately noticed the thin, flat gold ring with fused symbols of ancient hieroglyphics.

Her training was only indirectly related to the ancient language, so it was impossible for her to fully understand what the symbols meant. But the individual signs for "Concealment", "Life Path", "Sunny Day Caress", and "Heartbeat" convinced her that the artifact was not a forgery. She was even more convinced when the ring she was wearing disappeared from her finger. She could feel it but couldn't touch it, one thought and it was visible and tangible, one thought and it was gone. As she played, she didn't even notice the spider disappearing silently.

It had been impossible for her before — Clan Huntress was a well-deserved title, and such a warrior-mage couldn't even be sneaked up on by a grasshopper, let alone escape. But nothing, Sora had promised to get her out of here, and she would trust him. And if something went wrong — the woman would gladly give her son a few extra seconds to escape...

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