
In the adjacent cave, Midnight discovered a figure that bore the semblance of a wizard child, wearing a simple helmet that might well be an artefact. It was not a wizard. Its distinctive energy signature revealed that it was also not a Tairan, and most likely not a human either. Whatever its true nature, it had disguised itself, masquerading as a frail and frightened entity that pretended not to notice Midnight. Such transparent deceit held no sway over Midnight, and she had no patience for this cowardly charade.
There were several such encounters that disrupted the otherwise silent days spent in darkness. There were also encounters amidst the darkness, with beings that Midnight would not have perceived before her transformation.
As she ventured further into the southern reaches of the mountain range, the tunnels became the abode of grotesque creatures, slithering and skittering through the darkness. Bloated arachnids scuttled along the walls, their chitinous bodies pulsating with a sickly glow. Midnight’s fur bristled with unease as she observed these arachnids climbing along their intricate webs. She was acutely aware that they all sensed her presence. Despite their keen awareness, the atmosphere here differed starkly from her encounter with the weavers. While Midnight respected the rockshade weavers as cunning trappers and formidable fighters, these arachnids felt feeble and senseless. Amidst the darkness, they were fundamentally amiss. They seemed to prevail simply due to the sheer mass of their numbers. Their existence left a bitter taste on Midnight’s heightened senses.
She did not seek venom from them, nor did she engage with them or interfere otherwise. As a being of darkness, she traversed the webs unhindered, passing through their domain where ensnared critters and larger insects served as stark reminders of her own experiences. As she observed how some still struggled while others hung lifeless, resigned to their fate, Midnight understood that she never again wanted to feel like prey.
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