The Needlewitch

"She walks where the lanterns die,
A stitch for every step you pry.
Turn too fast, step too wide,
She’ll sew your shadow where you lied.

One stitch, two stitch, needle bite,
The thread pulls tight, you lose the fight.
She hums, she hums, the spindle sings,
You’ll never feel the pulling strings.

Stand too still, move too slow,
The needle slips, the seams won’t show.
Your breath will fade, your voice will too,
And when she’s done, so are you."

— Arin Nursery Rhyme

There was once a little boy who never listened.
When his mother called him in at dusk, he stayed out in the lanes, chasing fireflies and kicking stones. When his grandmother told him to keep close to the hearth, he ran through the house, making mischief. When his shadow stretched long and thin in the lantern light, he never minded it at all. He let it pull behind him, dragging like an untied bootlace.
"You will trip on it one day," his grandmother warned. "Or worse, someone else will take hold of it."
But he only laughed and ran outside again, his shadow trailing far behind.
One night, as he crept back to his room after playing too late, he heard a sound. Soft, like fabric shifting. Like a loose stitch pulling through cloth. At first, he thought it was only the wind against the shutters. Then he looked down, and there at the edge of his bed his shadow was tied.
Thin silvery strands stretched from his wrists, his ankles, his shoulders. Threaded tight against the wooden floor. He reached to pull them free, but they would not break. He called for his mother, but his voice came out thin, tired, barely more than a whisper. His limbs ached. His breath was slow. In the corner of the room, where the candlelight did not reach, something moved.
A figure stood there. Long and thin, its arms bending like needles in the dark. It did not lurch forward. It did not grab him. It only tilted its head, as if admiring its own work.
By morning, the bed was empty. The sheets were undisturbed. The door was still locked.
But on the floor, where the little boy’s shadow should have been, there was only a tangle of frayed black thread. Cut clean and left behind.
So sleep close to the fire, little one. Keep your shadow tucked tight. And if you hear the sound of thread pulling in the night, do not move. Do not breathe. And do not let her finish the stitch.

The Seamstress in the Dark

I’ve chased whispers and shadows across half of Areeott, but this this was different. The thread was real. Thin as hair, stretched too tight, tied to nothing. Footprints leading in, but none leading out. I should’ve turned back. Should’ve filed my report and let it be. But I need to know who or what is holding the other end of that needle."

— Detective Inspector Lioren Dask, Akkara House Guard, private field notes.

That is what the grandmothers say when they pull the shutters tight, when they mark the door frame with thread spun three times over. The night is no enemy. Not the hush of it. Not the weight of it pressing against the walls. The night is only a place. A space between things. It is what moves inside of it that must be feared.
The Needlewitch does not prowl the forests or linger at the edges of the road. She does not wait in the deep places where men refuse to tread. She does not need to.
She is already inside.
No one knows when she comes. She makes no sound. No whisper of footfall. No creak of the floor. There is only the stitch, drawn tight in the quiet hours, when the fire has burned low and the house is too still. It begins in the dark, when a child stirs in their sleep, when they turn too far and the light from the coals casts their shadow long across the floor.
In the morning they are slower than they were before. Their steps drag. Their limbs hang heavy as if the weight of sleep still clings to them. Their laughter is quieter. Their appetite fades.
Then someone notices.
A mother. A sister. A friend.
The shadow is wrong.

At first it is nothing. Nothing but a flicker. A hesitation. An outline that seems less eager to follow than it once was. Then it begins to settle. A child reaches for their mother’s hand, and the shadow’s fingers stretch just a moment too late. They run across the fields, but their shadow does not leap with them. It lingers. Pulling at the edges. Stretching thin. Sinking lower. Until one day, when they step forward, it does not follow at all.
That is when the threads appear.
Thin. Silvery. Stretched tight from wrist to ground, ankle to stone, shoulder to earth.
She is a patient thing, the Needlewitch. She does not steal children in the night. She does not drag them screaming from their beds. She does not have to. She takes something smaller. Something softer. Something they will not notice until it is too late. She takes their shadow.
One stitch at a time.
At first they can still move, though slowly. Then they can only sit. Then they can only lie still. When the last thread is drawn tight, when the final stitch is complete, they vanish like an unraveling seam. No body. No cry. Just an empty bed and a tangle of frayed black thread, cut clean and left behind.
The old women know how to keep her away. A spool of thread placed upside down on the windowsill. A silver needle left beside the door. A charm of knotted red string tied around the wrist. But the safest thing, the most important thing, is the thing all children are taught. Never let your shadow drag behind.
Because if it lingers too long. If it stretches too far. If it pools where it should not. She will find it.
And the Needlewitch always finishes what she starts.

"I laughed when I first heard it. A woman made of needles, stitching shadows to the ground. A child’s ghost story, I thought. But after a month in Areeott, after the way people spoke of her, the way they never let their shadows drag, the way the old women never left a spool upright, I started tying the red thread too. Just in case. And when I came home, far from those mountains, far from the places where they say she walks… I still do."

— Doctor Jorren Mar, College of Apothecaries

Date of Setting

Once Upon a Time...

Related Ethnicities

• Arin

Related Species

• The Hush

Related Locations

• The Agriss Mountains

Related Organizations

• Areeott

Unknown Shores

The Needlewitch CR: 9

Medium hush (fey or undead), neutral evil

Armor Class: 16

Hit Points: 136 (16d8 + 64)

Speed: 30 ft

STR

10 +0

DEX

18 +4

CON

18 +4

INT

14 +2

WIS

16 +3

CHA

20 +5

Saving Throws: Dex +8, Wis +7, Cha +9

Damage Resistances: cold, necrotic; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks

Damage Immunities: psychic

Condition Immunities: charmed, frightened

Senses: darkvision 120 ft., passive Perception 17

Languages: Common, Sylvan, telepathy 60 ft.

Challenge Rating: 9 ( 5,000 XP)

Shadow-Bound Presence. While in dim light or darkness, the Needlewitch has advantage on Stealth checks, and attack rolls against her have disadvantage. This trait is suppressed while she is in bright light.
Shadow Glide. While in dim light or darkness, the Needlewitch can teleport up to 30 feet as a bonus action to another shadow she can see.
Patient Stitcher. The Needlewitch does not provoke opportunity attacks from creatures affected by her Threadbound Curse.
Unraveling Form. The Needlewitch cannot be grappled while in dim light or darkness.

Threadbound Curse

When the Needlewitch hits a creature with Needle Stitch, the target gains 1 Stitch.

At the end of each of its turns, the creature can make a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw, removing 1 Stitch on a success.

A creature can gain a maximum of 3 Stitches per round from the Needlewitch.

Stitch Effects: 1 Stitch: Speed reduced by 10 ft
2 Stitches: Disadvantage on Dexterity saving throws
3 Stitches: Restrained
4 Stitches: Paralyzed until the end of its next turn, then reduced to 3 Stitches
5 Stitches: The creature is incapacitated and begins to fade. At the end of its next turn, if it still has 5 Stitches, it vanishes, leaving behind frayed black thread.

A creature reduced to 0 Stitches ends all effects.

Actions

Multiattack. The Needlewitch makes two Needle Stitch attacks.
Needle Stitch. Melee Spell Attack: +9 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target Hit: 11 (2d6 + 5) necrotic damage and the target gains 1 Stitch.
Bind the Shadow (Recharge 5–6). One creature in dim light or darkness within 60 ft must make a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw. Failure: Gains 2 Stitches If the target has 3 or more Stitches: Gains 1 Stitch instead Success: No effect
Sever the Seam. Targets a creature with 3 or more Stitches: Fail (DC 16 Con): 27 (6d8) necrotic damage and +1 Stitch Success: Half damage, no Stitch

Legendary Actions

The Needlewitch can take 3 legendary actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature’s turn. The Needlewitch regains spent legendary actions at the start of her turn.
Whispering Thread. The Needlewitch moves up to half her speed without provoking opportunity attacks.
Tug the Thread. (Once per round) One creature within 30 ft must succeed on a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw or gain 1 Stitch.
Sudden Pull (Costs 2 Actions). One Threadbound creature must succeed on a DC 16 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone.

A tall, spindled figure unfolds from the darkness, its needle-like limbs twitching as silvery threads stretch from your shadow to its hands, already pulling tight.