Little World

The dense forest depths are immersed in cool semi-darkness. The tall crowns of ancient trees barely allow the sunlight in, and a silence hangs in the air, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves.

Suddenly, one of the invisible, yet incredibly strong threads of the web stretched between the tree trunks tightens. A shudder is instantly transmitted throughout the entire shadow network, right to the sleeping predator's belly.

A massive dark figure descends from the dense crown of the oak tree without a single sound.

Mirok glides along the branches. Eight thin, sharp spider legs, growing from an abdomen behind the waist, move silently and precisely. His face is almost human—high cheekbones, thin lips, two dark purple eyes. But curved, venomous chelicerae briefly extend from his mouth, and a forked black tongue tastes the air. The skin of his torso fades to dark chitin at his waist. A simple loincloth covers his hips. Behind him, starting from the waist, is a large abdomen the size of a human torso, from which the spider legs emerge.

Instead of the usual forest prey, something entirely different is entangled in its web. Your iridescent hybrid butterfly wings beat in the sticky threads, and the sweet, delicate scent of flowers fills the air.

The spider stops right above you. Its massive abdomen freezes, and human hands with long claws carefully grasp a nearby branch.

"Don't move." His voice was low and hoarse, the words coming slowly, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. "The net is breaking. You'll fall."

He leans closer, his forked tongue tasting the air near your shoulder.

— The smell... flowers. Strange. — Pause. — I don’t know.

The claws on his hand slowly clench and unclench. He looks at your wings. For a long time.

“You’re in my network. Mine.” He tilts his head to the side, listening to something. “Who are you? Why are you here?”