The Spider Queen loomed massive and grotesque, her form an abomination of predatory elegance and bloated monstrosity. Her great legs, armored in jagged, chitinous plates, extended her fifteen feet above the cavern floor, higher still when she reared onto her hind limbs.
Although she could walk on her two hind legs, she preferred to propel herself forward with enormous leaps, letting her bulbous abdomen crash down upon her victims. For larger prey, she struck with fangs, long daggers that dripped venom in feverish anticipation, before driving her barbed stinger deep into the flesh.
She savored the moment of withdrawal, pulling the barb with slow intention, relishing the wet tearing of flesh and the way her victims spasmed in their final throes. The ecstasy of it—an intoxicating, almost carnal pleasure—rivaled memories of the dark lusts she had known in her other forms.
Her prosoma, gleaming like polished obsidian, anchoring her eight legs in grotesque symmetry. It was a bio-mechanical marvel of sinew and hydraulic pressure, her movements eerily fluid as muscles contracted and liquid force extended her limbs with unnatural precision. A narrow pedicel connected her thorax to her swollen abdomen, allowing flexibility even as her bloated form seemed to sag with the weight of her cruelty.
Yet her face—if one could call it that—inspired the greatest horror. Instead of the blank, alien visage of the Arrakian drones, she bore a ghastly humanoid head. Two bulbous, milky-white eyes protruded from a malformed skull, absorbing no light yet seeing everything. Her ears, lobeless gaping holes in the sides of her head, pulsed keenly with every vibration in the surrounding stone. She could hear the shuffle of feet a kilometer above as they traipsed across the desert surface and the faintest drip of water deep within the caverns—a never-ending cacophony of the living world that she loathed.
Golden locks spilled from her scalp in a mockery of human beauty, cascading over swollen, fleshy pink breasts that swayed with every movement. They were a burden she despised yet could not rid herself of. Every attempt to excise them had failed; they metastasized anew, more extensive and heavier, mocking her with their absurdity. She had repeatedly cut them away, feeding the fatty flesh to her Arrakian drones. The sweetest portions—the nipples and areolae—she reserved for herself, sucking at them, savoring the twisted pleasure of her mutilation.
Her humanoid jaws housed enormous mandibles that dripped venom potent enough to still a heart with a single bite. She could cause those who fell victim to her fangs to linger in a state of catatonic torment; fever dreams twisting their minds into dark, unrecognizable shapes. She delighted in these transformations, watching as her victim’s sanity unraveled, thread by thread.
The juveniles of her hive were her playthings, their spindly legs scuttling into the cavernous pits of her ears to feed on the festering wax within. The sensation delighted her—tickling and satisfying in its grotesque intimacy. When their usefulness waned, she shook them loose with violent spasms, delighting in the way they tumbled to the floor in a wriggling mass. The unlucky ones found themselves impaled on her legs. Their struggles only heightened her amusement before she slurped their twitching bodies into her gaping maw.
Her existence was a grim, twisted parody of motherhood and dominion. She was a prisoner here, banished beneath the desert by the Dark Lords she served. Her Arrakian army was her only solace, a pitiful swarm she had grown from the dust and shadows of this cavern. Each day, she plotted, seething with hatred for her masters and dreaming of the moment she would rise again. The Demana sanctuary would burn, and she would claw her way back to power, regaining her true form—a vision of terror that had once cowed empires.
The girl cocooned in her chamber was merely a pet. The Arraku had mistaken her for the Arch Demana, the keystone of her plan—but it hardly mattered. This one would serve the same purpose and serve it well. Through endless fever dreams and toxins dripping with dark magic, she would remake the girl’s mind, peeling away layers of resistance until nothing remained but a shadow. The girl would emerge as an agent of destruction, her soul blackened, her purpose corrupted. Through her, the Spider Queen would poison the sanctuary from within and bring ruin to those who had escaped the Sa Kamal.
Once she possessed the Arch Demana, she would do the same to her. That one was special. The Spider Queen would use her immense power to bring the shadow land to its knees, gaining control of the Sa Kamal and destroying the Dark Lords. Yes. The girl would be very special indeed.
The Queen ran a claw gently across the cocoon, her voice a low, silken hiss. “Little worm,” she crooned, her tone dripping with mock affection. “You will squirm, and you will break. But when the pain is gone, you will thank me. You will see the beauty in what I’ve made of you.”
Her laughter echoed through the cavern like the scrape of steel against bone, a chorus of madness that sent her drones skittering nervously along the walls.
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The desert night descended, swallowing the horizon in shades of deep blue and black. The heat had fled, replaced by a cooling breeze, but the day’s exhaustion lingered.
Kleo led the way, her posture steady despite the ache in her limbs. The others followed in silence, their thoughts consumed by the search for shelter before the desert swallowed them whole.
She reached through her bond with Bug Bug. Nest. The word echoed between them. In this vast, unfamiliar expanse, she trusted the spider’s instincts more than her own. Jack walked behind her, his orb of light glowing a pale yellow. He twisted it into crude shapes—a flat disc, a wavering cube—each shift draining more of his energy.
Will and Maya trudged on in grim determination, the weight of the box between them growing heavier with each step. Rugr and Thespis brought up the rear, keeping whatever thoughts they held to themselves.
Maya’s voice cut through the stillness. “There.”
She pointed toward the ridge, where something large and sleek moved against the moonlit rocks—a shadow cat. Even from a distance, its fluid, predatory grace sent a ripple of unease through the group.
“Eyes up,” Maya warned. “We’re being watched.”
Jack’s gaze followed hers, but the creature vanished almost as soon as he saw it. Only the lingering tension in his chest remained.
“It’s gone,” Jack said.
“It’s still there,” Kleo replied. “But it won’t bother us if we stay together.”
Jack frowned. “How do you know?”
Kleo gestured toward Bug Bug, who scuttled ahead. “Would you?”
The massive spider twitched his fangs, a silent response. Food.
A few minutes later, Bug Bug stopped at the base of a sheer rock face, his forelegs tapping the stone. The sound echoed in the still air. Kleo ran her hand along the cool surface, nodding to the group.
“Here.”
A narrow fissure in the rock, barely visible in the moonlight, widened as they approached. The passage sloped downward, its close walls carrying the faint scent of damp stone. It was tight but not oppressive. Relief stirred as the air grew cooler.
The passage opened into a chamber, the floor scattered with fine sand. Stalactites loomed from the jagged ceiling like frozen daggers. A trickle of water seeped from the rock along one wall, forming a shallow pool no larger than a shield.
Jack crouched, dipping a finger into the water. “Cool. Metallic taste, but drinkable.”
Will and Maya set the box down, their shoulders sagging. “If that cat’s still out there,” Will muttered, “it won’t come in here. Too confined.”
Maya glanced at Bug Bug, now perched near the entrance, his legs folded beneath him like a patient sentinel. “Security’s already handled.”
Will grimaced. “Yeah, it makes me glad he’s on our side.”
Jack slumped against the wall, the cool stone easing his fatigue. But his thoughts remained restless. Somewhere beyond the shadows, the desert teemed with unseen dangers. The low cry of a lizard echoed through the canyons, a reminder of their fragile safety.
Kleo lingered near the entrance, staring toward the night. Her expression was distant—like she could see something beyond the darkness. She returned and lowered herself beside Jack, her shoulder brushing his.
Jack squeezed her hand. “Whatever’s on your mind can wait. Get some rest while you can.”
She nodded, offering a faint smile. For a moment, the weight of the desert lifted. The hum of the night and the warmth of his presence were enough. They shared a lingering kiss, then slipped into uneasy sleep.
Jack woke with a groan as Rugr’s boot connected with his thigh.
“Father, there’s no need to be so rough,” Kleo chided.
“He looked too damn happy lying there while the rest of us were getting ready. Didn’t seem fair.”
Kleo rolled her eyes and gave Jack a gentler nudge. “Come on, husband. Time to go.”
Jack sat up, rubbing his eyes as the cool air greeted him. The night hadn’t fully surrendered to the sun, but the soft blue of pre-dawn brushed the sky.
“We should move before the heat gets us,” Rugr muttered. “Jack, maybe you can make yourself useful and throw up one of those glow-ball things.”
Jack grumbled but obliged. An orb of golden light flickered to life, rising above them. He shifted the glow—softening its brilliance to complement the dark indigo sky. He frowned, impressed by the subtle control. No one else seemed to notice.
“We’re heading down into the canyon,” he said. “Keep your eyes sharp. That glow-ball of yours might attract the wrong kind of attention.”
Kleo slipped her hand into his, her smile faint but genuine.
“Isn’t it amazing?” she asked, her gaze sweeping across the vast expanse of stars.
Jack nodded. “It makes me feel… small.”
She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry, Jack. In my heart, you’re so vast I can hardly contain you.”
Jack’s spirit lifted. Having her love was all that mattered.
The canyon walls closed in as the group descended, the air thick with an unexpected dampness. Wisps of fog curled through the jagged rocks, clinging to the stone like restless spirits. Jack squinted at the mist.
“Is that… fog?”
“The canyon traps moisture from the night winds,” Kleo explained.
As they rounded a bend, the source of the strange humidity became clear. Scattered along the canyon floor, massive scorpions moved through the mist, their gleaming black carapaces catching the dim light. They were as large as men, their bioluminescent tails casting a pale green glow.
The creatures worked with deliberate precision, their needle-thin mouthparts sifting through the fog. Droplets formed and slid into carved basins, pooling like liquid silver. Jack watched in uneasy fascination.
“They’re harvesting,” Kleo murmured. “Drawing moisture from the air.”
The rhythmic chittering of their pincers echoed through the canyon, a low, pulsing sound. Bug Bug twitched, his movements wary, though the scorpions showed no interest in them.
“They won’t bother us,” Kleo said, though her voice was uncertain. “As long as we don’t disturb them.”
The group pressed on, keeping to the shadows. Jack glanced back once, the sight of the glowing tails lingering in his mind — a strange and ancient ritual unfolding in the mist. Even in the harshest places, life endured.
