Chapter 1: A flash from the past. (|)

The towns are called dens, the cities are called havens. But the underground is called her nest. 

There once was a time where the underground was no one's territory. The Age of New they called it. But the peace was short. Peace never lasts in this world. When she came, there was nothing left. The towns were ravaged, the cities were leveled. She was god. God she was. 

The Weaver. The ruler of the underground, the tyrant of all living things. The one who left it all in smoke, the one they fear. The one who made the world come undone, and set dread abloom.

Her name was Kurai. Once a girl but consumed by darkness. 

The underground is a land of gold, treasures, and monsters. No one dares to enter, except for those who worship her. The silk spinners.

“I’ll spin the silk, tear the threads. Drink the blood of those who drift, the words of men are dull and stained. The Weaver’s way is one of sin.” 

Lines of people walked the path. Donned in robes of white and black. Children included. The wives hung from silk, spiders crawling on their skin. The sun never shines when the hunt begins.

“The silk is pure, her own creation. The Weaver we serve, the one above all. A god that shall consume it all.” They all sang in perfect unison. A requirement that if not met will result in death.

“Tonight is the night of the hunt, we shall cover the overworld in silk. Grab children from their beds, leaving nothing behind!” The Weaver descended from the roof of flesh, her white dress of silk flowing like wings. She had eight legs, but two arms. Her face is human.

The towns were eerily silent that night. 

The soft sound of a horse 

Clack Clack Clack. 

That was the noise before the attack.