“If they were, I would have mentioned it, don’t you think?” she says through gritted teeth. “Though I suppose this is probably a sign we’re on the right track. There’s always something guarding the eyelet. It’s just usually not so…” She waves her hands emphatically around her.
“Disgusting?”
She answers me by flaring her nostrils. “I was going to say terrifying, but I suppose disgusting is also accurate.”
“Well, tell me that homing mechanism of yours is pulsing a tad louder,” I say, and she nods.
Zora clutches her chest. “We’re definitely on the right track.” Then my sister steps into the fog and disappears from sight.
It seems the fog that obscures the web comes as a direct byproduct of the web itself, smoke hissing at the edges of the glistening strings. It makes it rather difficult to see, and Zora and I have to stay close to keep from losing sight of one another.
Thankfully, there aren’t too many webs in our way, so long as we aren’t trying to ascend the canyon. The webbing itself doesn’t begin for a few feet above our heads, providing us with a clear walking path.
I try not to think too hard about what else might benefit from a clear walking path down here.
After hours of searching, Zora halts in front of me, grabbing onto my hand frantically. I brace myself for a spider to come crawling out of the distance ahead.
One doesn’t, but the sight that’s unsettled Zora makes me almost as sick.
Just above us is a shadow. Rather, a form casting a shadow. Purple scales glisten in the reflection of the diamond webbing. Pincers splay lifeless.
The scorpion lies dead, legs splayed up in the air.
It’s missing chunks of its tail and thorax.
“Well, guess we know why we didn’t hear it hit the ground,” I say, and though Zora lets out what I suppose is supposed to be a self-assured chuckle, she grips my hand tighter.
Not far from where we found the scorpion remains is the entrance to a cavern, its mouth gaping at the side of the canyon wall.
“I don’t suppose this lovely entrance could be the eyelet, could it?” I ask, though I hardly have the energy to infuse hope into my voice.
“Unlikely, but I imagine it is in there somewhere,” says Zora, her voice strained.
Ever since we passed the scorpion carcass, she’s been trembling uncontrollably. Though perhaps she’s been trembling the entire time, and I’ve only just noticed since she grabbed my hand.
It has me wondering just how terrified of spiders Zora must be, if she’s faced down whatever guarded the eyelets in other worlds, and this is what has her wobbling.
“How are you so calm right now?” she asks as we venture into the cave. Stalagmites pierce through the earth, and precipitation beads on the cave ceiling before dripping onto our foreheads. “How are you not more afraid?”
Blaise’s voice rings in my ears. I am afraid of you. I’m just afraid of me, too.
“I am afraid,” I say. “There are just things I’m more afraid of than this.”
Though only barely, I don’t add.
The unfortunate thing about caves is that they have a tendency to be rather dark. Especially when the particular cave is located at the bottom of a plunging abyss in which fog blocks most of the light.
Granted, the liquid diamond webbing that decorates the ceiling of the cave gives off its own dull glow, but mentioning as much doesn’t seem to provide much comfort.
Thankfully, our fae vision adjusts as we delve deeper into the tunnels, but the further we go, the sparser the diamond webbing, and the more difficult it is to see.
“Well, at least the spiders don’t seem to like venturing this far,” says Zora, noting our dwindling light source.
“That, or they don’t like webbing getting in the way when they’re trying to eat.”
Zora promptly stabs me in the side with her elbow, and she shoots me a look that says, If you scream and alert any spiders of our presence, I’ll feed you to them myself.
Eventually, the cavern breaks off into two paths, one that seems to follow an underground stream, another that’s dry. When I ask Zora which way the eyelet is pulling her, she motions toward the dry path, which seems like the best luck we’ve had all day.
It’s not.
The tunnel leads us further into the belly of the island, the idea of which causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on edge.
When we reach the end of the tunnel and step into a section of cavern that branches outward into a wide alcove, Zora lets out a puff of air that hovers somewhere between a gasp and a sigh.
Of relief, I’m hoping.
When I turn the corner, I understand her reticence.
Covering the alcove is a web, much like the one that saved us from falling to our deaths only hours ago. The glow that originates from within the threads glitters across the cave, casting speckles of light upon the walls. Specks of green and pink dance in a brilliant waltz, highlighting every corner of the cave.
It reminds me of the shrine, the dazzling ballroom in which Zora’s body lies dormant.
The investigator in me can’t believe that’s a coincidence.
“Are they all like this?” I ask, though I think I already know the answer.
To my surprise, Zora shakes her head. “No. No, they’re…well, they’re usually quite terrifying.”
