Everyone always looked at the spiders.

Which, of course, was natural. Skittering, many-legged things, with their beady eyes and pedipalps that so easily resembled fangs. It was so natural, so easy to cast these monstrosities as the villains. There they are, those creeping, crawling things spewing webs as though compelled, addicted, stringing it into intricate patterns to catch us. Stop them, stop the monster, stop the person with spiders crawling from their skull, from beneath their fingers. Stop them, and we can end this.

No one ever spared a thought that, perhaps, this was too easy. Spiders are, after all, rather simple creatures with simple needs. They have no use for overarching plans, no use for overexerting themselves. Much like humans, they are content to do enough to ensure their needs will be met, but no more.

It takes something else to nudge them into the role of mastermind, of mouthpiece that gives the Mother of Puppets the reputation for manipulation, for control, for addiction, for power that it so rightfully craves. Something that no one thinks twice to look at, that they take as mere evidence of its presence and nothing more. Something that spans across all the puppets in the Mother’s control, binds them to her and sets them dancing to her will.