King White Widow's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

White Widow knelt in the excavated chamber, lantern light catching the silk threads that lined the walls. He had been searching for the temple of the first Spider Lords for two years, following maps no one else believed existed. But yesterday he found something else. Something that moved when it should have been dead for centuries. He pressed his palm against the cold stone floor and felt it again. A pulse. Faint but steady, coming from beneath the ancient silk wrappings he'd uncovered in the corner. The thing inside shouldn't have a heartbeat. It shouldn't have warmth. White Widow pulled his hand back and stood, forcing himself to breathe slowly. He couldn't stay here tonight. The chamber was too close to it, too exposed. He gathered his notes and maps, sealed them in oiled leather, and climbed back through the tunnel to the surface. By moonlight, he found the structure he'd claimed weeks ago: a den built from shadow and dark magic, tucked into the hillside where no one would think to look. Inside, he spread his maps across the floor and tried to focus on the temple's location. But his hands shook as he marked the chamber on his chart. Whatever he'd found was still down there. Still moving. And now he knew exactly where it was. The orb sat on his makeshift table, glowing faintly in the dark. He'd pulled it from the wrappings that afternoon, unable to stop himself. Fireflies drifted inside the glass, their light soft and golden. They shouldn't be alive. The orb had been sealed in silk for at least three hundred years, buried beneath stone that predated the Spider Lord dynasties. White Widow picked it up and held it to the lantern. The fireflies moved toward his hand, pressing against the glass like they recognized warmth. His throat tightened. He set the orb down hard and stepped back. Outside his shelter, the hillside was littered with broken tools and abandoned dig sites. A glass dome stood empty in the distance, its frame overgrown with weeds. He'd built it months ago to study colonies of giant ants that burrowed near the temple ruins, hoping their tunnels would lead him deeper. But the ants had moved on, and the structure sat useless now, another monument to his obsession. White Widow looked at the orb again through the doorway. It pulsed brighter, and he realized he couldn't leave it behind. Whatever the fireflies were, they were part of the temple. And tomorrow, he would go back down and find out why they were still alive.