Burrow: Brood of the Spider Empress

The mirrors didn't shatter from force.

They shivered.

Hairline fractures crept across their perfect, cruel surfaces—silent, almost delicate.

Lumina sat still at the centre of the silk dome, her legs folded beneath her, a spider half curled in shame. Her breathing was ragged. Her silk limp. Her heartbeat numb.

But then, a memory appeared. Not a weapon. Not a nightmare.

A moment.

She had stood in the moonlight, just outside the edge of their shared campfire during their journey across the demon empire. Her legs—those thick, furred limbs—tucked tight beneath her. She wore her softest dress over her human half, but it barely draped past the merging line of carapace and skin.

She had been so careful. So afraid. So… hopeful.

"My dear… if my spider form is unsettling, I can hide it completely now," she whispered, voice trembling with effort not to sound too eager.