Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes open to a dim room. Wires cross over my face, creating a web of clear and black plastic.

Web. Web.

Poison.

Tabitha.

I jolt awake, trying to sit up, but my face is held back by the wires. My eyes search the blank walls around me. Aside from my bed, the door, and a single chair, the room is empty. It seems that I'm in some sort of hospital. But that doesn't make sense. The order wants to kill me. After all, I did break into their headquarters.

And the question remains about Tabitha. Where did she go? Did she escape?

Do I want her to have escaped?

So many questions that I can't answer.

I doze in and out of sleep. Time is lost to me; either minutes or hours may have passed by the time the door creaks open. My bleary eyes blink up at two men and a woman standing before me. Behind them, a man in scrubs ducks inside the room, clicking the door back into place.

I gulp, looking up at the stony gaze of a man with squared shoulders and a small, square face to match. Round glasses sit on his squished nose, and he has closely cropped light brown hair.

"You work for Tabitha," he rumbles.

"N-not any more."

The man exchanges glances with the woman by his side, a tall woman with dark brown skin and curly hair. The final visitor, a man with blond hair and fair skin, glances at a tablet screen that he holds in his hands.

"How did Tabitha find you?"

"I was looking for a job. I found her posting online and applied." The words pour forth, father and faster as tears cloud my eyes. "She said she just wanted an assistant to run errands and attend opera concerts for her. And the pay, the wardrobe, the car, the apartment..." I break down into loud sobs that wrack my chest. Pain explodes through my body every time I move, but I can't stop, can't contain the emotion pouring forth.

After several minutes pass, the nurse hands me a box of tissues. I grab two. My elbow throbs, right in my veins, as I bring the thin paper to my face. I notice the source a moment later. There's an IV in my arm.

"W-what happened to me?" I tremble from head to toe. I'm terrified — of these people, of what happened during my failed escape, of what they'll do once they're done speaking to me.

"You suffered many bullet wounds and cuts from glass and debris," the blond-haired man states stoically.

My face crumples, preparing to cry again.

The first man clears his throat. "After a detailed analysis of your blood, it appears that you are not a Poison Weaver like we initially suspected. In fact, you belong to none of the nine bloodlines."

"Well, that's a relief."

The man hums. The three visitors turn around. Whispers buzz through the air, though my brain is in too much of a fog to pick out any words. At last, they turn around.

"Cleo Barone, is that correct?" the woman asks. I nod. "You've put us in a difficult position, Cleo. We recognize that you're young, nineteen, and fresh out of high school. You're a civilian. And everyone makes mistakes, especially at your age."

While part of me wonders how they know so much about me, the rational part of my brain doesn't question it. These are powerful people with access to a treasure trove of information.

"The difficulty is that you've made one of the worst mistakes a person can make: you learned something that you shouldn't have. And that makes you a threat to our entire organization, our existence, goals, and livelihood. Though we pledge to leave civilians out of matters, to never harm the innocent and to even protect them from those who are malicious, it's an entirely different matter when they become entangled with our plans."

"And aid someone as dangerous as Tabitha," the blond-haired man adds.

I swallow a mouthful of sand. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm afraid," the central man says, squaring his shoulders, "we have no choice but to eliminate you."

"That... that can't be right," I whisper. I feel a deep, bruising pain in my gut, even worse than my physical wounds. My life can't be over. It's only just begun. I graduated only, what, a year and a half ago? It's too soon to die. It can't be my time; it just can't be!

My head reels. I can't come to terms with the reality these three individuals are imposing.

"I'm truly sorry, Cleo, but we don't have a choice in the matter," the woman says.

"But you... I'm..." My eyes flick to the wires threaded over me. "Why save me if only to kill me?"

"We wanted to uncover all that you know. If you're merely a lackey, we have no further reason to keep you alive." The woman nods to the nurse. She inhaled a breath before continuing. "It will be a painless procedure. The nurse will inject you with a serum that will bring death in thirty seconds."

"But I do know something. She was planning some sort of... revenge."

"Oh?" The woman raises her thin eyebrows.

"On us?" the central man asks.

"I think so? It's the reason why she stole the artifact, whatever it was."

"Hmm." The central man paces a few steps around my bed, staring at the far wall. "A song of nightmares." He faces me, gaze piercing. "That's what it does. The lyre of the Dream Artists crafts nightmares so terrible and that a person can no longer distinguish reality from fiction. They slowly devolve into madness."

"Worse than we thought," the blond haired man murmurs.

"Yes," the central man agrees. "She must be stopped."

"I'll do it!"

Three pairs of eyes focus on me.

"I will once I get better. As soon as I can walk."

"Your sentence is already sealed," the woman says.

"But... you said people can know about you if they join. What if I join the order?" Hope blooms in my chest, just the tiniest spark. I'm ready to fight for my life. What comes next doesn't matter.

I just have to survive.

The three visitors exchange glances.

"What makes you think that you can succeed in eliminating her as a threat?" the central man asks. "You have no training, no experience. You don't even have special powers to aid with the task."

I swallow. I have no answer.

"We already thought she was eliminated," the woman says after a beat. "Once we discovered her bloodline, we sent her on a task to a wild island where one of our assassins was stationed. He reported her as dead."

"He betrayed you?"

"We're still investigating. Incidentally, he died a few weeks after the task, so we never followed up on the mission." The woman's face hardens. "It's an error we hope to never repeat."

I feel like I'm pushing my luck a bit, but I have to ask. I have to know. "Why kill her?"

"Why?" the blond-haired man scoffs.

"Because she's a threat to society," the central man says. "She was born with one of the most dangerous powers. The artifacts we collect can be locked away, but we can't control how the poison weavers use their powers. Thus we must dispose of them all."

My eyebrows twitch closer. Though his words compute — there is a rationalization on the surface — something hidden in the core of their thinking disturbs me.

"It's preemptive," the central man continues. "Imagine a serial killer who can kill anyone in the world sitting in their bedroom. Not a trace will tie back to them. It's the perfect murder. We can't allow society to live in fear of this. We must protect the civilians. That's why our existence is hidden from the masses, and why we remain secret at all costs. That's why we take care of matters before they spiral out of control."

Silence reigns in the room for a long time. Finally, the woman says,

"Why should we trust you if you joined our organization?"

"I only worked for her because I needed a job. Once I uncovered what she was really doing, I stayed only so she wouldn't kill me." The three seem uneasy. "I can help you find her. I saw her methods firsthand after working for her. If anything, I'd be an asset to your group because I was so up-close with her different methods."

Another few beats pass. My heart pulses in my chest. I feel each emphatic beat against my ribcage.

"We'll discuss it with the other Heads," the central man says at last. The door opens, the nurse with the biggest needle I've ever seen. My eyes widen, and fear jolts through me.

"Put that down for now." The central man's steely eyes bear into mine. "We may not need it after all."

🕸 ✩⋆｡°🕸｡°⋆✩🕸

Hours tick by. I feel caught up in a timeless vortex. I sleep, then wake, eat, stare at the empty walls. The cycle repeats.

In the stillness, the solitude, I think back on Tabitha, the order. When I first learned of the order, I didn't know what to make of them. After all, they hunted me down and sent someone to my apartment to retrieve the artifact piece.

He would've killed me over a fish.

But the guilt over so many order members' deaths cut deep in my core. How could I aid Tabitha after all the horrible things she did?

The order isn't a guiltless entity, either. Unless Tabitha was lying, which I doubt after my conversation with the three visitors yesterday, I suspect they really did kill Tabitha's family members. Are they any better than Tabitha?

My head throbs from sorting through all these thoughts. Tabitha, the order. Tabitha, the order.

It ping-pongs back and forth. Who is a worse master to serve? The order seems to have good intentions. They want to lock away these dangerous artifacts so no one else can use them for their evil plans. But is killing off anyone that has a special power part of the way this objective should be achieved?

Something bothers me about the order's rationale. Sure, it makes sense that threats should be subdued. But what about all the bloodline members who don't plan to use their gifts for harm? Aren't there poison weavers who could use their powers in espionage and police work? Some poison weavers may not wish to use their gifts at all.

What would Tabitha have done with her life if she hadn't become the villain? At one point, she was on the order's side. She didn't have a vendetta against them until they tried to kill her first. Perhaps some people are more malevolent than others, but at the same time, someone can be conditioned to hate and slaughter.

A thought flashes through my mind. The poison weavers, though gifted from birth, are no different than regular people. Anyone can be a killer. Anyone can commit a crime. We don't screen kids in school and lock up the ones who are bullies. We teach them what's right in schools and try to amend their ways.

Anger filters into my blood. Perhaps Tabitha is right in seeking justice.

But what about all those killed in the crossfire, the pawns in the game? At this point, Tabitha is so unhinged, maybe she should be stopped.

Maybe they both need to be stopped.

The door cracks open. I startle from my thoughts as the woman from before enters the room. The lock clicks behind her, and she slowly approaches the bed, her tall shadow hovering over the sheets.

"The Heads have decided to give you a chance," she says. "Our policy is to allow any civilian with good intent to join our ranks, so we shall give you the same opportunity. Once you recover, you will be formally inducted during The Symphonic Order's Inductee Ceremony."

"Thank you." I would've expected to feel relief that they won't kill me, but a sickening feeling shifts in my stomach, churning the jello and pureed vegetables I was last fed.

"I must warn you that our ceremony has changed slightly since we discovered the Oath Sealer's artifact. That's after Tabitha's time. Essentially, the Oath Sealer's artifact is a wheel with slots going around a central core. Now, at the time of your oath, you will sign your name in your own blood on the wheel, pledging yourself to the organization. If you ever break your oath, we will burn the spindle and a new one will grow in its place."

A pause.

"And... what happens to me?"

"You die."

I gulp. Tears well behind my eyes, but this is my only chance at survival.

"What is the oath?" I ask.

"I swear to uphold the order's purposes, to retrieve and assemble artifacts for safekeeping, to kill those who threaten society's stability, to fulfill all tasks passed down by the Heads, and to maintain the equilibrium of society, from the time of this oath till the day I breathe my last."

That's... that's intense. Fear sends tremors through my entire body, but this is the only way.

"Alright. I'll do it."

"I'll tell the Heads you have accepted. Rest up for now, because once you're well, training begins."

The door closes with a finality behind her. I feel nauseous and lightheaded, barely able to believe this is real.

But through the haze, determination breaks through. There has to be a way to take down the order, along with Tabitha. There has to be a way to shatter the oath and free myself and everyone else from its grip.

And once I'm well again, I intend to uncover what the loophole is.