The heavy doors to Araña’a keep swung open to bid her entry, and then shut behind her with a reverberating thud. The spider witch moved quickly on her dagger heels as her gown trailed behind her like a great black tail of silk. The fire beneath her cauldron of poison still burned merrily as its heat fueled the power within it.<br/><br/>She immediately turned to her alchemical alter, a curved bench filled with cupboards, mortars and pestles, twisting glass alembics, flasks of varying shape and volume, and many retorts. Araña set Agathon’s seed on an open space and then snapped her fingers. A small fire burst to life beneath one of the open containers.<br/><br/>It took an hour to gather all of the ingredients the tome had detailed, and another hour to mix it properly. Araña’s hands were stained various colors as they worked the ingredients. She first ground a handful of devilfish scales into a fine powder with a pestle, adding the nectar of a rare plant to it until it turned to a paste. Wax was added, thickening it further, but the concoction was quickly distilled upon addition of nightshade and water.<br/><br/>The mixture was boiled several times, and each time it was, it turned a different hue. Upon addition of dried polyps, it turned a deep red, but eventually settled to a thick, poisonous green. Araña took the flask of sperm and dribbled it into the mixture. The potion frothed, then turned a darker shade of green as it steamed over the fire.<br/><br/>Several minutes later, the Widow’s Bridle was complete. Araña took the cooling mixture off the flames and pored it into a bottle, unable to hide her glee with a smile. She wanted to scry through her spider’s eyes once more to observe Gabrielle, wishing the helpless girl would sense the imminent trap, but instead turned in a swish of dark silk back to her bedchamber. It would be rude to keep Agathon waiting during the last hours of his free will.<br/><br/>The clicking of her high heels heralded her entry as she entered her quarters. The knight was still bound and gagged by her web in the center of the room at the foot of her bed, his pants still pulled around his ankles.<br/><br/>“I apologize for my absence, milord,” she purred, granting him a small curtsy with the bottle in her hand.