Starlight of a Moonbeam

Freedom of Flight, Six - Age 17 (Elena POV)

Wrong.

Everything about this place screams wrong.

The air, the ground, the earth, the wind, the forest, the cliffs, the energy.

All of it wrong.

It's been three hours since we arrived at the Dagul Fells. Three hours of searching, tracking, checking, and double-checking, for any signs of the infamous spiders. We looked over the ruins of the Watchtower of Eidolon, destroyed by the previous attacks to kill the beasts. We marched through the dead forest, just beginning to regrow after the fires, that were set to aid the escape of my Aunt and Uncle when they were here just before they left to fight in The Great War. But there was nothing to be found of the once-notorious spiders.

Now stepping inside the caves the kharankui called home, I fight the urge to run back to the safety of the light outside where the ruks wait, fight the urge to flee and never return. Theoretically, there should be nothing to fear, no reason to be on edge as I am now. Though the stench of them still clings to the cold black walls of rock, the scratches and jagged marks still reside on the walls, and bones of what was once their meals remain in the dark caves. We have yet to find anything of the spiders.

Not a body, or a bone, or a hint that any are still living. But nothing either to show that they are dead.

"Hey, would you look at this!" I hear Almuru call from the entrance to another cavern. His deep-blue voice bouncing off the walls in an eerie echo.

Spinning on my heel, I turn to where my friend stands, a torch in his hand lighting up the break in the wall that opens up to the hall beyond. The flame that burns on the tip of his wooden staff, burns a pale gold. A flame that I am currently controlling in the back of my mind, letting it shine its light, but not burn down the staff to my friend's hand.

Harlan stands by the edge of the room near the tunnel that leads to our way out. He also holds up a torch that I gifted him when we first entered the caves, lighting up his charming features in the bright but soft glow. He'd been slightly hesitant to take the gift, and after what happened on the flight over here, I don't blame him, but after a minute or so of being in the darkness of the caves he soon became openly grateful for the gift of light, however, it was brought to him.

Something about him changed upon beginning our search. I first noticed it when we were checking over the ruins of the tower. His face had lost the smirk that seemed to be plastered there. I just thought, or perhaps - hoped that he had been buckling down for the task we were on. Then when we were patrolling through the charcoal covered woods, a moment had come where I'd been staring into his sweet brown eyes only to find them cold and grieving. An emotion that I'd never before seen in him. But when we'd stepped up to the entrance of the kharankui's hole, I'd known, something had drastically altered within him.

Gone was the humor that once lived in him. Gone were the jokes and teasing remarks. Gone was the laughter that rang in his song. And I'd become increasingly aware, that Harlan was afraid of spiders.

Walking up to Almuru, I cross the distance and join him at the entrance of another cavern. At first, I don't see much, just another long and dark cave. But then I catch a glimpse of the walls, and I stop in my tracks. They're covered with shiny veins, like a trickle of water has been running over them for generations, slowly eating away at the insides, but looking closer with the help of my fae eyes, I see that it's not the case at all.

Spidersilk.
Cords, and loose strands of the thread run down that walls giving off the appearance of water veins, or crystal imbedded in black the rock.

Following the threads up to their origin, I feel my power reduce down to insinerating embers. There, hanging from beams, wrapped around ledges, and attached to the ceiling itself, are the woven sheets of the now priceless spidersilk.