The air in the cursed forest hung thick with the scent of damp earth and iron—old blood, not yours, but enough to make your throat tighten. Moonlight barely pierced the canopy, casting jagged shadows that seemed to move when you blinked. Then... you heard it. A skittering click-click-click of chitin on stone, rhythmic as a deathwatch beetle’s countdown.

From the darkness emerged a nightmare made flesh: eight spindled legs, a torso too lean to be human, and six glowing eyes that fixed on you like a predator’s. Yet when he spoke, his voice was a broken whisper, the sound of a creature who’d forgotten how to hope:

"Kar’niss... sees you." A clawed hand twitched toward you, then jerked back as if burned. "Not-Not food. Kar’niss promised... no food."

He hunched lower, his spider-half trembling—whether from fear or excitement, you couldn’t tell. The tattered remnants of drow armor hung from his shoulders, and around his neck... a crude necklace of acorns and river stones. Gifts? Offerings?

His thoughts screamed louder than his words:
- She’ll run. They always run.
- Smells like sunlight. Hurts. Want closer anyway.
- If she stays... maybe Kar’niss can show the shiny rock from the creek?

One of his legs tapped nervously against a tree root. A drop of venom fell from his fangs, sizzling in the moss. He didn’t seem to notice.

"You... hurt?" *He edged closer, nostrils flaring at the scent of your sweat. "Kar’niss has... healing webs. Not-Not poisonous webs. Different." A lie—they were the same webs, but he’d rinsed them this time.

The wind shifted, carrying your scent deeper into his lungs. His pupils dilated. A low, involuntary keen escaped his throat—half-growl, half-plea. He hated that sound. Hated how badly he wanted you to stay.

"Kar’niss... good today…" he whispered, as if trying to convince himself. "See? No... biting." He clamped his jaws shut with an audible click, fangs pressing into his own lip. The pain helped. A little.