the green writer

Story: The Sunset Beast

Chapter Two: Mating Season

Hans continued on his path, trying to push away the screams that still echoed in his ears. With every step, the weight of contempt inside him grew heavier, as if each movement forward only burdened his chest instead of freeing it. He exhaled sharply, then slapped his cheek hard, as if trying to wake himself from the spiral of thoughts. This was no time for regret. He had to focus on survival.

Looking around, he noticed that the path had improved. The thick spiderwebs no longer choked the trail, and he could see the ground more clearly. He stopped by the trunk of a massive tree, leaning against it for a moment before pulling out a heavy, red-covered book with no title. Running his fingers over the worn-out cover, he opened it and flipped through its time-worn pages until he reached a chapter titled: "Forest Phenomena of the Barren Continent."

His eyes scanned the lines, reading about strange occurrences he had never heard of before: Branch Children, beings that appeared only in the rare forests of the southwest. The Elven Children's Spirits, ghosts of young elves who were massacred by the High Elves. It was said they only appeared to watch, laughing softly at night—a sound only those who got too close could hear. Some claimed that Basil, the Elven of the Forest, was the reason for their presence, mourning the children's deaths. Others believed the magic of the "Heart of the Trees" was responsible. Regardless of the cause, the only known truth was that they watched… and laughed.

Hans continued flipping through the book until he stopped at a section titled: "Spider Forests." He muttered under his breath as he read:

"During mating seasons, spiders weave their webs densely, covering roads, houses, and even the sky, resulting in a thick fog that obscures vision."

His face darkened, and he shut the book forcefully, as if trying to drive the thought from his mind. With a deep sigh, he stuffed it back into his bag. He glanced at one of the trees and saw spiders moving together, dancing in an instinctual, eternal rhythm. A faint smile appeared on his lips—half mocking, half resigned—as he muttered sarcastically:

"Even the spiders have found their soulmates… and I'm lost in this cursed forest."

He paused for a moment, furrowing his brows as if recalling something, then whispered anxiously:

"Wait… why didn't I tell her the way back? I could've told her instead of leaving her there… Damn me."

He let out a long sigh but didn't turn back. He kept moving forward, ignoring his guilt, ignoring the spiders continuing their rituals, ignoring the fog that thickened around him, as if the entire forest was watching in silence.

In the heart of the town, there stood a massive house with crimson walls, shrouded in fog and spiderwebs that clung to it like a second skin. At its highest point, a glass dome had become home to hundreds of spiders, gathering as if celebrating a grand wedding.

Through the entrance, a small boy with blonde hair and blue eyes stepped in cautiously, curiously observing the scattered spiders. His attention was drawn to a massive spider moving sluggishly, its weight seemingly slowing it down. He watched silently as it flipped onto its back, struggling to right itself but failing again under its own burden. Before he could extend a hand to help, a quiet voice came from behind him:

"Young master, step away… It is about to give birth."

The boy turned, brushing his hair away from his eyes, and found himself facing Oshan, a dark-skinned, bald man with a calm gaze. The boy asked curiously:

"Don't spiders lay eggs?"

Oshan nodded and replied in a low voice:

"Yes, but these aren't ordinary spiders. The ones in our town give birth… It is said that their eggs grow inside them until they hatch internally… Now, watch."

The pregnant spider twitched violently before its abdomen suddenly split open, torn apart by dozens of its young that burst out hungrily, devouring what remained of their mother before scurrying off into the world. The boy watched, eyes wide in silent awe, while Oshan, observing the scene, spoke with an eerily calm voice:

"This is their cycle… Born through struggle, growing only to return here, where they cover the town and Glasspool Forest with their webs, mate… and die… for a new generation to begin."

The boy shuddered slightly but said nothing. Then Oshan added in a hushed tone:

"Now, young master… Your mother wants you."

They moved through the grand corridors of the mansion, which no longer held their former splendor. The past year had left its mark: shattered windows, cracked walls, and a cold draft slipping through the crevices, stinging the boy's delicate skin. At the hallway's end, a short dwarven maid opened a door for them. She was an ugly woman with a permanent scowl, attempting to smile but failing—she was simply unaccustomed to it. She swung the door open roughly, and the boy rushed inside toward his mother in the frigid courtyard.

Amid worn-out furniture and scattered debris, a pale woman sat with long, unkempt blonde hair. Grief was etched onto her face, but it faded slightly when her son embraced her. Yet, the warmth did not last—she soon pushed him away and shouted angrily:

"Where have you been, Atheon?! I was worried about you! You know these days are not safe—not even here!"

He opened his mouth to explain, but a sharp slap silenced him before she snapped:

"Don't make excuses! This is not how our family behaves. How do you expect to serve a noble house when you're this weak?"

She grabbed his ear and twisted it, making him yelp, then hissed:

"Stop acting like a child. You are the son of Serin, the brother of Seros!"

She finally released him, and he sat at the worn-out table. Then she turned to the dwarven maid and barked:

"Where is the food I asked for? I don't want this potatoes and meat—I want duck!"

The dwarf scowled, her voice tinged with irritation:

"The duck is gone. No shipments have arrived in months."

The woman's expression darkened further before she shrieked, pointing a finger at her:

"Did you eat it, you fat slave?!"

The atmosphere tensed instantly. The dwarf seemed on the verge of exploding, but before things escalated, Oshan swiftly intervened, his voice calm, attempting to defuse the situation:

"Please, my lady… She speaks the truth. There is no duck. But a flock is approaching—this is what the hunter Cold said."

The mother's anger subsided slightly. She grabbed an old wooden spoon and began eating as she muttered:

"That old man, Cold… He usually tells the truth. But if he lied, I will hang this dwarf myself."

The dwarf shivered and glanced up at the ceiling—where the bodies of some servants still dangled from ropes, wrapped in spiderwebs like shrouds woven by tiny monsters. She took a step back in fear, while the mother's voice rose again, this time with renewed rage:

"And where is my damned husband?!"

Oshan, now standing protectively in front of the trembling maid, replied evenly:

"Lord Serin is still hiding in the cellar… weeping."

The woman took a sip of wine, then sneered as she stared into her cup:

"Good… He should cry and hide. His greed and weakness brought us to this."

They ate in silence. Meanwhile, the boy gazed at the ceiling, watching the tiny spiders begin to weave their silk around the hanging corpses, wrapping them in glistening threads… crafting them coffins made of darkness.