What is school if not a grand opportunity to celebrate? Isn’t that the dream?
—
The argument had started, as usual, over something stupid.
Or at least, that was what Rowan Kenrith had told herself while storming away from her brother for the third time that week.
It had probably been about responsibility. Or caution. Or maybe the fact that Will had once again looked at her like she was a problem to be managed instead of a person.
She wasn’t entirely sure anymore.
What mattered was that he had done that infuriatingly calm thing again. The one where he folded his hands, spoke in that measured voice, and acted like he was the reasonable one while she was just being emotional.
Which, to be fair, she was.
But that was hardly the point.
“‘Rowan, maybe don’t set fire to the training hall.’” she muttered bitterly as she stomped down the path leading away from campus. “‘Rowan, maybe think before you act.’ Rowan, Rowan, Rowan.”
She kicked a loose stone so hard it sparked.
It flew off the path and vanished into the trees.
The road beyond Strixhaven University wound through the hills, lit by floating lanterns and the last traces of evening sun. Students passed in small groups, laughing and chatting on their way back toward campus.
One pair walked past her in the opposite direction, talking loudly enough that she couldn’t help overhearing.
“—apparently it’s incredible.”
“I heard someone imported drinks from all over. From what I have heard, even from entirely different worlds!”
“And there’s music, and dancing, and this huge dream tent thing—”
Rowan slowed.
The two students barely noticed her.
“Wait,” Rowan said, stepping in front of them. “What party?”
They blinked at her.
“The revel?” one of them said. “About an hour from here. Someone rented an old manor near the edge of the woods.”
“It’s supposed to go all night,” the other added. “Mostly older students, travelers, people that are just here to visit…”
“Sounds terrible,” Rowan said automatically.
The students looked disappointed.
Then Rowan added. “Which means I’m definitely going.”
She left before they could answer.
If Will wanted her to cool off, she would.
At a party.
With strangers.
Far away from him.
That would show him.
—
The manor was impossible to miss.
Lights glowed between the trees long before Rowan reached it. Music drifted through the woods, chiming with fiddles, drums and laughter. By the time she stepped through the front gate, the entire place seemed alive.
Lanterns hung from every branch. Long tables covered the lawn. Students danced on the porch railings. Someone had strung glowing ribbons between the trees that changed color whenever music swelled.
There were people everywhere.
Students from Strixhaven.
Travelers.
Satyrs.
A few people Rowan didn’t even recognize.
“Now this,” Rowan said, a grin finally breaking through her bad mood, “is more like it.”
Someone immediately shoved a drink into her hand.
She didn’t ask what it was.
That felt like the correct decision.
The first sip burned pleasantly.
The second was sweeter.
By the third, she had already forgotten exactly why she had been so angry.
Not completely.
Just enough that it no longer seemed important.
She drifted through the crowd with growing enthusiasm. Danced with strangers she would never remember. Joined a drinking game she definitely did not understand. Argued loudly with someone about whether lightning magic or fire magic made better party tricks.
Lightning, obviously.
By the time she won the argument by demonstrating on a nearby tree, she was laughing.
Really laughing.
The kind she hadn’t managed in a long time.
Maybe Will was right about one thing.
Maybe she had needed this.
The thought annoyed her on principle.
So she grabbed another drink.
The night only got louder from there.
More music. More lights. More people.
At some point Rowan ended up sprawled across a couch in one of the manor’s side rooms, still holding a half-empty glass while three students enthusiastically argued over which professor at Strixhaven was the scariest.
“Augusta,” Rowan said immediately.
“No, no,” one of them replied. “Professor Onyx.”
“You’re both wrong,” said another.
Rowan tried to answer.
Instead she yawned.
Long.
Deep.
“…No,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
She pointed vaguely at the room.
“I’m here to party. I am not falling asleep.”
Another yawn hit her hard enough to make her eyes water.
Someone laughed.
“You look exhausted.”
“I’m not exhausted,” Rowan protested.
She was.
Between studying, stress, arguing with Will, and several drinks she definitely should not have mixed, her entire body suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
The couch was soft.
Too soft.
The music outside had become warm and distant.
Rowan tried to stand.
She made it halfway upright.
Then immediately sat back down.
“…Okay,” she muttered. “Tiny break.”
Just a minute.
Then she would get back out there.
One more drink. One more dance. Maybe two.
Her eyes drifted closed.
Outside, the party continued.
Far above, in the endless night of another plane entirely, someone noticed her for the first time.
Just as she left the realm of those who are awake.
—
Xenagos was in deep thought.
He lounged across a throne that had not existed a moment ago and was made entirely of velvet cushions, grapevines, and poor decisions. One arm hung lazily over the side while he watched the revel below with obvious satisfaction.
The party was good.
Very good.
The music had found its rhythm. The drinks were flowing. The laughter was honest.
And then there was the girl.
The red-haired one.
The one who had arrived angry, stubborn, full of lightning and spite and all the sort of glorious bad judgment Xenagos so appreciated in a mortal.
He had noticed her immediately.
Power crackled around her even when she laughed. This restlessness. These high emotions. This need to be seen.
Oh, yes.
She had potential.
“Mm,” Xenagos mused, swirling wine in his cup. “You would fit in wonderfully.”
He could already picture it.
Another reveler. Maybe even another herald. Someone dramatic and dangerous… and also deeply entertaining.
Then Rowan yawned, collapsed sideways onto the couch and immediately fell asleep.
Xenagos stared.
“…Seriously?”
Below, Rowan was now curled awkwardly into the cushions with one arm hanging over the side and a half-empty drink still balanced somehow precariously in her fingers.
The party continued around her.
She did not.
Xenagos sighed heavily and leaned back.
“Wonderful,” he muttered. “A natural-born reveler and she’s unconscious before midnight.”
He considered simply waking her.
Then considered turning her into something that didn’t need sleep.
Then paused.
His expression shifted.
A grin spread slowly across his face.
“Oh.”
He sat upright.
“Oh, now that is interesting.”
The God of Revels snapped his fingers.
“Different revelers need different solutions.”
—
At first, Rowan thought she was back at Strixhaven.
Then she realized no one could possibly build this many classrooms.
The hall stretched on forever.
Rows and rows of desks filled an enormous chamber beneath a ceiling she couldn’t see. Endless chalkboards covered every wall, each one packed with impossible equations and assignments written in neat, terrible handwriting.
Beyond one door was another classroom.
Then another.
Then another.
Every hallway led to more exam halls, more desks, more looming stacks of papers waiting to be graded.
“Ugh,” Rowan muttered.
She was dreaming.
She knew she was dreaming.
That much was obvious.
Because this was exactly the kind of nightmare a Strixhaven student would have.
She shoved open another classroom door.
Inside, one student sat alone at a desk in the middle of the room.
He looked miserable.
There were papers everywhere around him, all covered in red ink. Several had giant F’s written across them. Behind him stood an impossibly tall professor made entirely out of books and disapproving looks.
The student looked up as Rowan entered.
“Oh no,” he said weakly. “You’re probably here to tell me I failed too.”
Rowan stared at him.
Then at the professor.
Then at the room.
“Okay,” she said. “First of all, this is a dream.”
The student blinked.
“…What?”
“A dream,” Rowan repeated, walking up beside him. “You know. Not real. Fake. Which means you’re wasting it.”
He looked around helplessly.
“But I have exams tomorrow!”
“And?”
“And I’m not ready!”
“Then you can panic tomorrow,” Rowan said firmly. “You’ve got an entire dream to work with. Why are you spending it in a classroom?”
The student opened and closed his mouth.
The giant professor loomed closer.
Rowan rolled her eyes.
Then she snapped her fingers.
The classroom vanished.
The desks disappeared. The chalkboards melted away. In their place appeared a comfortable couch, warm lights, music somewhere in the distance, and a drink in Rowan’s hand.
She blinked.
“Huh.”
The glass had simply appeared there.
Without thinking, she conjured another and handed it to the student.
“There,” she said. “Much better.”
The student looked down at the drink uncertainly.
Then around at the room.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
The professor of books and disappointment had vanished completely.
“…This is nicer,” he admitted.
“Exactly.”
Rowan flopped down onto the couch and kicked her boots up onto a table that hadn’t existed a moment before.
“You need to stop worrying so much,” she said. “You’re at Strixhaven. Everybody’s stressed. Everybody thinks they’re failing. Half the professors probably enjoy it.”
That got a laugh.
“But in the end… we all make it through.” Rowan giggled.
The student looked at her… then nodded.
Good.
The student looked better already.
Less tense.
Less trapped.
They talked for a while after that.
Or maybe only a few minutes.
Dreams were hard to measure.
At some point, Rowan lifted her drink to her lips—and caught her reflection in the dark surface.
Her eyes had changed.
They were darker now.
Black.
Not just the pupils. All of them.
Two wide black eyes stared back at her from the reflection.
For a second, Rowan frowned.
“…That’s probably weird,” she said.
Then the room blurred.
The couch dissolved beneath her.
The dream slipped away.
—
Rowan woke with a snort and nearly dropped her drink.
The party was still going.
Music drifted through the manor louder than before, the room around her full of moving shadows, warm lanternlight, and the smell of too many different drinks mixed together.
For a few seconds she just sat there, blinking blearily.
“…Weird dream,” she muttered.
Her head still felt pleasantly fuzzy, but not in the same way as before. It was softer. Also warmer.
And oddly satisfying.
Because she had helped someone.
The thought returned with surprising clarity.
The student in the dream had looked miserable when she found him. By the end he’d been smiling, drink in hand, no longer trapped in whatever endless exam nightmare his brain had cooked up.
That had felt… good.
Really good.
Rowan stretched and sat up properly.
A few feet away, curled against the arm of another couch, was a student she vaguely recognized from the dream.
The same dark hair. The same oversized Strixhaven jacket.
He was fast asleep.
And smiling.
Rowan stared.
“No way.”
She leaned forward slightly.
He looked peaceful. And relaxed. One hand still loosely around an empty cup.
“He actually—”
The student yawned in his sleep and settled deeper into the couch.
Rowan slowly leaned back again.
A grin spread across her face.
“I actually helped him.”
The realization sent a warm little thrill through her chest.
Not in the abstract, theoretical “I’m a good person” sort of way.
No.
She had fixed something.
She had made someone feel better.
And honestly?
That felt incredible.
The room suddenly seemed brighter.
The music sounded better.
The party felt more alive than before.
Someone passing by offered her another drink.
“Celebrating something?” they asked.
“Maybe,” Rowan said with a smirk.
She accepted the cup.
The liquid inside glowed faintly purple and gold. She didn’t question it.
She took a long drink.
Warmth spread through her immediately, stronger than before. Rich and sweet and pleasantly dizzying.
Then something shifted.
Rowan blinked.
There was a strange pressure low in her back.
No—not her back.
Lower.
Further down.
Her posture changed slightly without her meaning it to. She shifted on the couch.
And immediately regretted it.
“Ugh—what is that?”
Something behind her felt… bigger.
Heavier.
As though her hips had widened suddenly and dramatically. A strange fullness spread through the base of her spine and further down, round and dense and uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t quite describe.
Rowan twisted awkwardly to look behind herself.
She couldn’t see much from this angle.
Only the vague impression of dark fabric stretched tighter than before and something beneath it that definitely hadn’t been there earlier.
“Oh, what the heck?”
The pressure pulsed once.
Then again.
As if something large and rounded was slowly growing behind her.
For a moment, Rowan thought she should stand up.
Or investigate.
Or maybe panic a little.
Instead she yawned.
Long.
Deep.
“Oh, screw it,” she groaned.
The drink slipped from her fingers and landed harmlessly on the carpet.
The room blurred.
The music softened.
The couch suddenly felt impossibly comfortable again.
“I must be… the worst drinker… alive,” Rowan muttered, trying unsuccessfully to sit up straighter. “I swear, I literally just woke up…”
But the heaviness in her body only grew.
Her eyelids sank.
The strange pressure behind her spread lower, broader, somehow making it even harder to move.
One last thought drifted through her mind as she curled instinctively against the couch.
At least maybe I’ll help someone else…
Then Rowan fell asleep again.
—
Rowan woke in the trees.
At least, she thought they were trees.
Everywhere she looked there were trunks, branches, and thick tangles of leaves stretching endlessly in every direction. The canopy above glowed with soft green light, while below there was only darkness between the roots and vines.
No ground.
No sky.
Just trees.
And vines.
So many vines.
They hung between branches in thick curtains and twisted around trunks like giant ropes. Some moved slowly in the breeze.
Others moved a little too much.
“…Okay,” Rowan muttered. “Less cozy than the last one.”
She tried to take a step forward.
Nothing happened.
Rowan frowned and looked down.
Or tried to.
Something behind her was in the way.
A great round mass filled the branch beneath her, covered in thick dark fur. It twitched slightly when she moved.
For a moment Rowan simply stared.
“…Oh.”
Her lower body had become enormous.
A huge spider-like abdomen rose behind her where her hips should have been, broad and fluffy and much heavier than the rest of her.
Then, while she watched, it grew.
The rounded shape expanded slightly more with a strange tingling pressure, making her shift awkwardly on the branch.
“That is definitely new.”
There was another sensation too.
A prickling at her sides.
Then something pushed outward.
One long, dark limb unfolded from her body with a soft crack.
Then another.
Rowan blinked.
A second pair of legs stretched out beneath her.
Then a third.
At the same time, her original legs changed too, thinning and lengthening as they bent sharply into something far less human.
By the time it was over, six long, fluffy spider legs supported her easily against the branch.
She stared at them.
Then flexed one experimentally.
It obeyed instantly.
“Huh.”
For some reason, the sight didn’t bother her nearly as much as it probably should have.
This was a dream.
Dreams were weird.
That was practically their whole thing.
Besides…
She gave one tentative step.
Then another.
The spider legs moved easily, naturally, balancing her broad new body without effort.
Actually…
This was kind of cool.
She scampered a few feet along the branch and almost laughed when she realized how fast she was.
“Oh, this is way better than walking normally.”
A sound interrupted her.
Somewhere nearby, someone yelped.
Rowan looked up.
Across a gap between branches, another student hung tangled in a mass of vines. They were wrapped around his arms and legs and suspended awkwardly several feet above the dark emptiness below.
He looked one bad movement away from falling.
“Help!” he shouted weakly. “I’m stuck!”
“Well, obviously,” Rowan called back.
She crouched instinctively.
Then launched herself.
The leap carried her far further than she expected, her six legs catching easily against the bark of the next tree.
“Whoa!”
Okay.
Very cool.
She climbed the trunk in seconds, racing upward through the branches as her fluffy spider legs clung to the tree much better than human legs ever could. Until, just a few moments later, she reached the student.
The vines tightened around him as he struggled.
“Don’t move,” Rowan said.
“I’m trying not to!”
Using one of her new legs, Rowan hooked the nearest vine and pulled. Another leg braced against the branch. The rest helped keep her balanced.
The vine snapped.
Then another.
Within moments the student dropped safely onto the branch beside her.
He sat there panting for a second.
Then looked up at her.
Then looked up a little further.
Then looked up more.
“…You’re a giant spider.”
Rowan looked down at herself.
“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Apparently.”
Weirdly, she still wasn’t that bothered by it.
The student rubbed at his arms.
“I was trying to get to class,” he said miserably. “But every path led somewhere worse. Then the vines got me and—”
He gestured helplessly around them.
“I think I’m getting tangled up in the practical exams.”
Rowan snorted.
“Yeah, no kidding.”
She settled down on the branch beside him, her huge spider body curling comfortably beneath her.
“Listen,” she said. “Exams suck. Practicals especially. They make it feel like if you mess up once, everything is ruined forever.”
The student nodded miserably.
“But it isn’t,” Rowan continued.
She gestured around at the vines.
“Sure, maybe right now it feels like you’re tied up over a giant cliff by nightmare plants.”
He looked around.
“…That is exactly what it feels like.”
“Right?” Rowan said. “But even that isn’t the end of the world.”
She smiled.
“You’ve got friends. Teachers. People who can help.”
Then she pointed at herself.
“And apparently, you’ve got me too.”
The student blinked.
Then smiled a little.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Rowan leaned back slightly, all six legs settling comfortably against the branch.
“We deal with the horrible exam nonsense together.”
She grinned.
“And then when we’re done?”
The student hesitated.
“…Then what?”
“Then we drink and celebrate.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The vines around the trees loosened.
The dark below brightened.
The dream began to dissolve.
The student faded first, still smiling.
And Rowan felt herself being pulled upward, back toward the waking world once more.
—
Rowan woke slowly this time.
The music returned first.
Then the warmth of the room. The smell of drinks and smoke and too many people packed into one space. The soft golden glow of lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
She was still at the party.
Still in the side room of the manor.
And she felt… fantastic.
For a moment she simply lay there, smiling to herself.
Then she remembered.
The dreams.
The students.
The way they had looked afterward.
Curious, Rowan pushed herself upright.
Or at least, she tried to.
Her body shifted strangely beneath her. Large and heavy. The movement came more from behind than below, and when she finally managed to rise, it took far more limbs than she remembered having.
Rowan paused.
Then immediately decided not to think too hard about that.
Instead she stretched.
Several legs stretched with her.
That felt good.
Really good, actually.
With surprising ease, she began to walk through the manor.
Or maybe scuttle was a better word.
She moved quickly now, effortlessly weaving through the crowded room despite the sheer size of the broad, fluffy spider body supporting her. People stepped aside for her without alarm, smiling and laughing as though a giant spider woman wandering through the party was perfectly normal.
Maybe it was.
At least here.
As Rowan rounded a corner into the main hall, she saw them.
The two students.
The one from the exam nightmare sat at a long table with several others, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
The second student, the one from the vines, was dancing badly with a group of Strixhaven students while someone else tried and failed to teach him the steps.
Both of them looked so happy.
So relaxed.
So free from their previous burdens.
And the moment Rowan saw them, something swelled in her chest.
Pride.
Warm and bright and huge.
‘I did that.’
Not in a selfish way.
Not really.
But she had helped them.
She had made things better.
And suddenly Rowan knew, with the same certainty she usually reserved for bad decisions and lightning spells, that she could do it again.
For anyone.
Everyone.
No one should have to be stuck alone in nightmares when she could help them.
When she could make their dreams fun. And safe. And wonderful.
A laugh escaped her before she even realized she’d made a sound.
“There you are!”
Someone she vaguely recognized appeared beside her with another cup already in hand.
“You look like you deserve a drink.”
“You know what?” Rowan said, grinning. “I absolutely do.”
She took the cup.
Then looked around for somewhere to sit.
There weren’t really any chairs big enough anymore.
Or couches.
The thought barely crossed her mind before she simply lowered herself comfortably onto the floor beside one of them, her huge spider body settling with a soft thump and a ripple through the thick fur of her abdomen.
It felt natural and easy.
Like she had been sitting like this forever.
Rowan leaned one elbow on the couch behind her and lifted the drink.
Then she drank.
The first gulp was sweet.
The second made her head pleasantly fuzzy again.
The third—
Something pressed at her sides.
Rowan blinked.
There was a strange sensation beneath her shoulders now. A stretching, tingling pressure.
Then something pushed outward.
One new arm slid free from her side.
Then another.
“Oh,” Rowan said vaguely.
The feeling should probably have been alarming.
Instead it felt oddly satisfying.
The new arms kept growing, lengthening until they matched her original pair perfectly. Feeling strong, familiar and as natural as if they had always been there.
Rowan rolled one shoulder.
Then all four.
“Huh.”
Without even thinking, she used one of the new hands to steady her drink while another brushed hair from her face.
It felt effortless.
Convenient, even.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I might have drunk one too many… hehehe… But when has that… ever stopped… me?”
She took another drink.
Then another.
By the time the cup was empty, she barely remembered ever only having two arms in the first place.
The room swayed pleasantly around her.
The music had softened again.
The couch beside her looked impossibly comfortable.
Rowan stretched out across the floor, all six spider legs curling beneath her as she rested her head against the edge of the couch.
She meant to stay awake.
Probably.
But her eyes were already drifting closed.
The party faded.
The warmth remained.
And smiling to herself, Rowan slipped back into sleep once more.
—
Rowan woke to silence.
Not the soft quiet of a sleeping room.
Not the distant hum of a party.
True silence.
She stood in the middle of a tavern.
It was… familiar.
Wooden tables. A long bar. Lanterns hanging from beams above. A stage in the corner that felt like it should have music, even if it didn’t yet.
But there was no one here.
Not a single person.
No laughter. No movement. No sound except the faint creak of wood shifting in a place that somehow felt both real and not.
Rowan frowned.
“…Okay. That’s new.”
She stepped forward.
Her legs, all six of them, clicked softly against the floor. Her large spider abdomen swayed slightly behind her, heavy but balanced. Her four arms rested easily at her sides.
Still no one.
And yet…
She tilted her head.
“…No.”
She wasn’t alone.
She could feel them.
Not in the room.
Not exactly.
But close.
Very close.
Like voices just behind a wall. Like movement in the next room over. Like…
…in different dreams.
Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly as she focused.
“I know you’re there,” she muttered.
She tried to reach out with her hands for something. She wasn't sure if it was material or not, she definitely couldn't see it. But she was sure it was reachable. Grabable. Something her arms could pull in.
The feeling sharpened.
And then…
A pressure started builing behind her eyes.
Then… one more eye opened. Much smaller than her original eyes and a little bit further up, but definitely there.
Rowan gasped softly, feeling the spot where the smaller eye had blinked open. It felt so weird and strange.
Then another blinked open.
Then another.
One by one.
Plop, plop, plop, plop.
Until she had eight.
Two large eyes.
Six smaller ones surrounding them, each catching something slightly different.
The world shifted. It didnt look the same anymore.
Through her split vision, everything felt so much more grand than it did before. Like she could see beyond dreams and into others.
And man, did she see them.
Hundreds of them.
All around.
All nearby.
Each one like a thread in a vast web stretching beyond the walls of the tavern.
Some were soft. Peaceful.
Others flickered with unease.
A few twisted into darker shapes, nightmares waiting to form.
Rowan inhaled slowly.
“…Whoa.”
Her lips slowly curled into a grin.
“Oh. Oh this is—”
Her hands lifted.
All four of them.
And without hesitation, she reached forward…
Straight through the wall.
The wood didn’t stop her.
The world didn’t resist.
Her hand disappeared into something else…
…and came back holding someone.
A student stumbled into the tavern with a startled yelp.
“What—? Where—?”
Rowan blinked.
Then laughed.
“Hi,” she said. “Welcome to the party.”
Before they could answer, she reached again.
Another dream.
Another person.
Pulled in.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
One after another after another.
Students appeared in flashes of light and shifting space, stumbling into the tavern from their own scattered dreams. Confused at first. Then curious.
Then smiling.
The room began to fill.
Music sparked into existence without anyone touching an instrument.
A rhythm.
A beat.
Someone picked it up.
Then someone else.
The stage lit up.
A dream DJ, pulled from somewhere else entirely, appeared behind a table that hadn’t existed seconds ago.
Drinks filled the bar.
Glasses appeared in hands.
And they never emptied.
Rowan moved through it all effortlessly.
Four arms working at once, passing drinks, adjusting the music, pulling in more dreamers whenever she felt another lonely thread nearby.
Laughter spread.
Movement returned.
The empty tavern became alive.
Vibrant… and endless.
One dream twisted darker near the edge of her perception.
A nightmare.
Rowan turned.
Her smaller eyes focused.
She reached…
…and pulled that dream in too.
The moment it entered the tavern, it softened. Warped. Melted into music and warmth and light.
Fear dissolved.
Replaced by laughter.
Rowan smiled wider.
“No nightmares allowed,” she said simply.
She stood at the center of it all.
Host of the dream party. Guardian of those not awake.
Weaver of dreams.
Every dream she touched became part of the revel.
Every worry unraveled into something lighter.
Every lonely sleeper found themselves surrounded by music and movement and warmth.
And Rowan…
Rowan had never felt more right.
She raised a glass she didn’t remember creating.
“To the party,” she said.
The tavern roared in answer.
—
From that night onward, Rowan’s place in the revel became impossible to miss.
When she was awake, she was always somewhere near the center of the celebration.
Laughter followed her. Music seemed louder around her. Someone was always handing her another drink, inviting her to dance, or daring her to something she absolutely should not do.
And Rowan loved every second of it.
She had become an honored guest of the revel. Not because she was the loudest, though she often was. Not because she was the wildest, though she certainly tried.
No.
It was because everyone knew what happened when Rowan finally got tired.
Because she always did.
No matter how much she laughed. No matter how many drinks she had. No matter how much she swore she was staying awake this time.
Eventually, Rowan would yawn.
Someone would grin.
And someone else would say:
“There she goes.”
Then Rowan would curl up somewhere comfortable, on a couch, under a table, in a pile of blankets, once even hanging lazily in a hammock strung between two trees, and drift off to sleep.
And the moment she did…
The dream tavern would open.
There, Rowan was no longer merely another guest.
She was the Weaver of Dreams.
The hostess who made sure the party never ended.
Every sleeping reveler found their way to her tavern eventually. Some arrived confused. Some stumbled in laughing. Some came carrying worries, fears, or the lingering shapes of nightmares.
Rowan greeted every one of them.
With a drink. With music. With a smile.
And if nightmares followed them in, Rowan caught those too.
Over time, that work changed her.
The more bad dreams she took into herself, the more her appearance shifted.
Her smile grew sharper, her canines lengthening into elegant, unmistakable fangs. Her ears stretched into graceful points. Her spider-like features became more pronounced, more beautiful and strange all at once.
Meanwhile, all the happy dreams, the fantasies, the confidence, the joys… the wet, lewd dreams… they all seemed to gather in her softer features too. Especially in her chest area. Her clothes fit a little tighter than they used to, yet always adjusted to fit her ever growing bust. Though Rowan never paid it much mind beyond occasionally complaining that someone needed to make better party outfits for giant busty spider women.
There were far more important things to worry about.
Like making sure everyone was having fun.
Like chasing away the nightmare of an upcoming exam with music and dancing.
Like turning a lonely dream into the best party someone had ever seen.
One evening, or morning, or perhaps somewhere in between, Rowan yawned again in the middle of the revel.
She stretched all four arms above her head. Her six spider legs curled beneath her. The smaller eyes around her main ones blinked sleepily.
“Oh heck yeah!” someone teased. “Looks like the Weaver’s clocking in.”
Rowan laughed.
“Tough job,” she said, already sinking comfortably onto a pile of cushions. “Somebody has to keep the party going.”
Her eyes drifted closed.
And somewhere beyond waking, the tavern doors opened once more.
Lanterns lit.
Music started.
Dreamers arrived.
And Rowan, Weaver of Dreams, smiled as she welcomed them inside.
After all…
Dreams didn’t end the revel.
They merely moved it somewhere else.
Just like their great god Xenagos demands it.