Chapter Twenty: The Net
Vire's expression changed in an instant.
No more predator's amusement — now it was calculation.
"Alive," she murmured, almost to herself. "The Queen will want her breathing."
The man tightened his grip on the blade. "Over my dead body."
"That's exactly what I intend," Vire said — and then the resin came.
From her fingertips, it spilled in thin, glistening threads, weaving themselves through the air faster than my eyes could follow. Each strand shimmered faintly, bending toward me no matter where I moved.
"She's throwing a live net!" the stranger shouted. "Don't touch it—"
Too late. One thread brushed my shoulder and seared through my jacket like acid. The smell of burned fabric hit my nose, and heat prickled across my skin.
The man cut at the strands, his blade slicing through some — but for every one he severed, three more shot out.
Vire didn't advance. She stood perfectly still, her hands moving with slow precision, letting the web build itself. Her eyes were locked on mine, drinking in every twitch, every breath.
"You don't know what you are yet," she said softly. "But I can teach you. You'll thank me."
The chamber was closing in, every exit bound by resin. My pulse was rising again, the same deep thud that had shaken the walls before.
"She's syncing with you," the stranger hissed. "You need to break the link before she—"
Vire flicked her wrist, and a strand looped toward my ankle. Instinct moved faster than thought — I raised my hand and the thread froze midair. Not snapped, not burned — frozen, like it had turned to glass.
Vire's smile returned, but it wasn't mockery this time. It was hunger.
"Yes," she whispered. "Just like the First Queen."