Deeper into the heart of the mountain, where the walls shed their clammy exterior, Midnight found remnants of a webbed structure. Broken strands of silk clung to the cave walls, evidence of an arachnid species that once wove traps or nests in concealed recesses. Devoting five harrowing hours to this singular passageway, Midnight found the initial traces faint and frail, signs of long abandonment. As she delved deeper, new constructions emerged. Her path ended in an intersection that branched into three tunnels, two of which were adorned with fresh webs.
Each tunnel bore meticulously anchored webbing, threads bridging the walls but not entirely sealing the way. In the middle tunnel, the net hung overhead with just enough space for Midnight to crouch beneath. The right tunnel featured an elongated structure that shrouded only the right half, leaving a gap for Midnight to pass on the left.
This was dangerous terrain. There was strategy behind this design. The webs beckoned with the illusion of navigable passages, tempting Midnight to believe she could traverse them unhindered. However, in both tunnels, subsequent nets lurked behind the first.
In the middle tunnel, where the first net spanned overhead, the second and third were cunningly placed to the right and lower down, creating a layered trap. In the right tunnel, the complex structure extended along the right flank before converging with a distant structure on the left, completing the treacherous design. These nearly imperceptible constructions wove a multi-layered trap. It was a trapper’s challenge — any prey unable to perceive the nets unwittingly ran into them. If the prey discerned only the foremost structures or fell for the illusion of navigable paths, the layered trap lured it deeper. It would advance until it was rendered immobile, incapable of retreat or resistance without succumbing to further entanglement.
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