Her stomach dropped.
Lewis noticed her expression shift. “Oh no. I know that look. What is it?”
Vivienne swallowed, forcing herself to read the final line again. “The flower… it only blooms under a full moon.”
Silence reigned.
Lewis’ hopeful expression faltered. “…Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, shit.”
The realization crashed over them both. The last full moon had been in the sky during the Harvest Moon Festival. The next one? Still two weeks away.
Owen wouldn’t last two days.Vivienne pressed her hands to the stone wall, her breath coming too fast. There had to be another way. Had to be something they could?—
A sharp, high-pitched scream ripped through the cave.
The blood in her veins froze. She and Lewis shared a look of dread and turned toward the sound.
42
Vivienne and Lewis bolted down the tunnel, their footsteps echoing in frantic urgency. The distant chittering grew louder, an eerie symphony that made her skin prickle.
As they rounded the corner, she skidded to a stop, her whole body recoiling. The cave seethed with pale, glistening creatures, their spindly legs gliding soundlessly over the stone. They moved like liquid silver, an ocean of shifting bodies, each the size of a large cat. Their segmented forms shimmered under the faint glow of the ignis bark, their pearl-white fur catching the light with hints of violet and silver. Their faceted turquoise eyes reflected the cavern in a fractured, otherworldly pattern, adding to their spectral presence.
Cirrus was pinned against the far wall, paralyzed with fear. His breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—he was completely frozen.
Vivienne barely had time to register his terror before she saw them—dozens of the creatures swarming the commander. Her stomach knotted in horror.
“Owen!” she cried, lurching forward.
He was eerily still, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. His fevered body was completely at the mercy of the creatures crawling over him. Several of them lingered on his wounded arm, their delicate legs moving with purpose.
“They’re killing him!” she gasped, rushing forward.
Lewis caught her wrist, holding her back with surprising strength. “Wait—look!”
Vivienne’s breath hitched as her mind processed what she was seeing. The creatures weren’t attacking. Their spinnerets twitched, working with graceful care as they wove fine strands of silken thread around his arm.
It wasn’t just silk—it was binding the wound, encasing the infection, cocooning the blackened veins in a shimmering protective layer. Her mouth fell open. The realization struck her like lightning.
“The legends… the silk…” she whispered, eyes wide.
Lewis exhaled, awestruck. “Arachsylphs.”
The word alone sent a shiver through her.
Their silk was rumored to be indestructible. It was woven into ancient battle armor, used in bindings for sacred texts, and whispered to have healing properties beyond mortal medicine. But no scholar that Vivienne read had ever confirmed their existence.
“They’re not attacking him,” Lewis murmured. “They’re saving him.”
Vivienne inched closer, her breath tight in her throat. The Arachsylphs didn’t react to her presence—they simply continued their work, their movements eerily synchronized, as if they were born knowing exactly what to do. Her gaze flicked to Owen’s face. His fever still raged, but… his breathing was steadier now. Less strained.
Her hand hovered for a moment, then reached out to touch a strand of silk. It was cool to the touch, finer than the most delicate thread, yet impossibly strong. She gave a careful tug. It didn’t break. Even when she pulled harder, it held firm and unyielding.
The Arachsylphs finished their final layers, then, to Vivienne’s astonishment, they turned—not to scurry away, but toward her and Lewis.
She tensed.Are they expecting something? Do they want food?One of the creatures paused in front of her, then—dipped its head under her hand.
Her breath caught. “What…”
