I am greed, I am fear. I am your worst nightmare. I am you.

🕷🕷🕷

Robert awoke on the floor. What happened to me? He held his hands out in front of him, turning his palms towards and away from him repeatedly; no welts, no bites, nothing. Was it nothing but cave fever? Nothing but a bad dream? Looking up at the entrance of the cave, he saw the empty spiders web dance in the whispering breeze.

No. Said a deep voice within his head. It sounded foreign compared to his inner voice, yet it was familiar.

I am far worse than a spider. I am your true self. Awakened.

He scrambled to his feet, as he darted from left to right, desperately searching for the origin of the voice; searching for the spider.

I know what lies ahead; Robert the Bruce. I can help you.

"Stop it! I demand that you leave my head immediately." He said, as he grasped his ears and clenched his eyes shut.

I see that your wife is expecting a child. Your child.

"She is with my brother. They are safe, yes?" He scanned each cranny of the cave as he spoke, hoping to find, something.

For now.

In one week, John Comyn will march on Kildrummy. I see your wife and brother hanging from the gate, burnt alive by hell-fire.

He staggered backwards, holding onto the roughened wall as his heart exploded in his chest; his fingers dug into his ribs, as though he was trying to claw the beating organ out.

"Tell me what to do? Please."

A King does not beg. You know what must be done.

"Kill," whispered Robert.

Yes. Yes. Comyn must die. You have always wanted this, yes? I am but your deepest desires.

"Where would we meet him? Comyn is a shrewd man, would he not suspect an ambush should we meet in the open?"

Go to him. Meet him on holy ground. In Greyfriars.

"I cannot kill on holy ground. Eternal damnation awaits the man who commits the ultimate sin before the high altar.

You will do what you must...