The chilly night had brought with it the twinkling of stars, joined together in the endless band of the milky way, the great ribbon of eternal light that slowly crawled across the night sky, seeking equals in its glory and majesty. Millions of stars twinkled across the heavenly firmament, crawling across the same as they began to shine and wink out of sight as the planet rotated away, making way for the marvelous light of the sun, dimming theirs second by second.
But that would be in the future hours, as the night was still gripping Norqod in its embrace, casting darkness and light in equal measure as only one moon, Mes, stood to watch across the sky. And within the Palace of House Dall, few aside from the Guards were awake, none of the Nobles, and no servants either. There was too little to be done at this late hour to necessitate working into the late night and beyond as other palace complexes would have.
But within one room, one built for a blind child, the light slowly crawled across a set of windows, illuminating the carefully curated flowers and plants within as two bodies slowly and rhythmically rose and sunk, their steady breathing showing to all the world that they were asleep. With one hand slung around the other body, the blind child slept peacefully, her dreams filled with the sounds, smells, and feel of some fiction she would never remember but left her smiling in happiness right now. The other's mind was embraced deeply in the thrill of the hunt, seeking the other in one of their games.
Until a sound ripped Crinkles out of it, and he opened his eyes to Burning Webs.
Eight eyes stared back, the form of the arachnid gently repositioning itself on his strings at the far wall as a soundless chittering echoed across the chamber. "Apologies," he whispered, bowing his head in apology.
"You are not welcome here," Crinkles spoke back, his namesakes sound building within the room as his fur hardened and his crystal claws began to sharpen as he watched the watcher.
"I know," the Apostle replied, once more turning his head. "But I am compelled to seek-"
"Begone."
The Apostle of Flame paused and then bowed his head once more. "You are right to feel, and act, this way. But I still need to-"
"No," Crinkles spoke, his fur more akin to indestructible crystal and reflective sharpness now. "You will not seek your Shards here, you will not touch my Sister, and you will not make her the Forest's pawn. She will not heed the Call; I won't allow it to happen."
"We all play our part," Apostle said bitterly, "even if it means forcing a child to heed the Call. You cannot change that, nor can your mother, try as she might."
"Leave." That was all Crinkles said, his fur relaxing and softening as Silvia Jr. stirred beside him in her sleep. "Your war will bring enough tragedy to this world, and I see no reason to hoist more upon my family."
"We must always bear these burdens, and if not her, then another will take her place. I will return to ask her," Apostle said with deep regret and revulsion, looking out the windows at the twinkling stars far above. "To make this sight reality, rather than projection."
"And I will be there to prevent your asking," Crinkle replied drowsily, slinking back into sleep. "And remind you of the trillion trillion trillion corpses upon which They unknowingly planted the Forest."
"And I pray that you succeed," Apostle whispered, the Burning Webs vanishing with the soft chitter of arachnid legs pulling back.