In a dimly lit chamber, a chandelier cast a pale grey glow, its light barely reaching the shadowed corners of the room.
Eight spider elves sat on four chairs on each side—six female and two male.
At the north end of the chamber, a black crystal throne loomed, occupied by a female dark elf with an aura of authority.
Behind her, on an elevated platform, stood a statue—its lower half composed of spider legs, while its upper half resembled an elven woman from the waist up.
The statue's stone was a dull, lifeless grey, yet its presence felt heavy as if watching over the gathering.
A male spider elf leaned forward, his voice laced with irritation.
"Matron, why have you summoned me? Have I not made it clear—I do not wish to be called for these meetings?"
Before the Matron could respond, the other male elf spoke in a measured tone.
"Zudd, if the Matron called us, it must be urgent."
The Matron's expression remained unreadable as she finally spoke.
"Our opportunity to claim the Night Crystal Tree of the Dark Panther Tribe has arrived."
A female spider elf on the left side of the room crossed her arms, her voice skeptical.
"The Night Crystal Tree has fully matured. Moving it will not be easy."
A female spider elf leaned forward, her voice laced with concern.
"Yes, Mother, even if we defeat the Dark Panther Clan, bringing the Night Crystal Tree back here will be difficult. And what of the Nine Lake Tribe? Our city is no match for them."
At her words, silent agreement spread through the room.
Except for one female elf, everyone seated nodded—though none spoke aloud.
A voice broke the silence, sharp and mocking.
"Sister," Kaelin sneered, her gaze locked onto the dissenting elf. "Ever since you returned from the Central City, you've been opposing Mother. Did the Favahido family give you that much confidence?"
The targeted elf's eyes flickered with a mix of anger and fear—anger at Kaelin, but fear when her gaze landed on their mother, seated on the black crystal throne.
She hurriedly lowered her head, her voice laced with panic.
"Mother, I did not mean to question your decision!"
The Matron remained unmoved, offering nothing but a dismissive hum.
Then, in a calm, commanding tone, she spoke.
"Kaelin, tell them why I have chosen to move against the Dark Panther Tribe."
Kaelin rose from her seat, her expression smug, and began to relay the information.
When she finished, another female elf frowned, deep in thought.
"I've never heard of this… Statue Tribe. When did such a powerful force emerge in the WinterMoon Forest?"
A tense silence settled over the chamber.
The Matron's voice was calm yet commanding.
"The Statue Tribe is not worth mentioning. It is their totem that concerns us."
At her words, Zudd's purple eyes flickered with recognition.
"The Bat… Did some of the Three-Eyed people take it as their totem?"
Kaelin nodded.
"Yes. That was two hundred years ago. And now, it has awakened from its slumber."
A second male elf leaned forward, his expression calculating.
"Matron, your goal is to let the humans weaken the Dark Panther Tribe before we strike."
A female elf across the room frowned.
"I believe we should be making preparations for the Nine Lake Tribe first. If they interfere, our entire operation could be jeopardized. And from what we know, I do not believe the humans possess enough power to challenge the Dark Panther Tribe."
The Matron remained unfazed.
"We are not going to engage the Dark Panther Tribe directly.
We are all Silver-rank. No warrior of the Dark Panther Tribe is our match.
Our goal is simple—while they are preoccupied fighting the humans, we will strike swiftly, raid their stronghold, and take the Night Crystal Tree."
A tense silence followed.
Then, a voice broke through—one that was sharper, colder, and different from the rest.
The speaker was a female elf, yet her attire set her apart.
She wore no elegant robes, only tattered garments, with iron chains running from her neck to her wrists and heels.
She lifted her gaze, her tone unreadable.
"Hilkrae, why are you so eager for the Night Crystal Tree?"
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.
The Matron spoke nonchalantly, her tone smooth yet unwavering.
"Priestess Salha, that tree's seed came from our city. But during the last war, the Wood Elves seized it and gifted it to the Dark Panther Tribe.
Is it wrong for me to wish for the Night Crystal Tree to return to its rightful place?"
Salha's gaze sharpened as she locked eyes with Hilkrae.
"Hilkrae, we are Spider Elves, not those sentimental Wood Elves or weak-hearted Moon Elves."
The Matron observed the exchange, her thoughts calculating.
The priestess's agreement mattered more than the rest of the council combined.
If Salha consented, the others would follow—their opinions rendered irrelevant.
Reaching a decision, the Matron acted.
Her aura surged, flooding the chamber with oppressive force.
Though the other Spider Elves were all Silver-rank, they couldn't withstand her power—they bowed their heads, the sheer weight of her presence crushing their resistance.
Only Salha remained unmoved, her cold eyes watching as the Matron gradually withdrew her aura.
When the pressure lifted, the Matron spoke again, her voice carrying finality.
"Now you understand, Salha."
The priestess nodded slowly.
"You wish to absorb the Night Crystal Tree's energy… to ascend to the Golden-rank realm."
A heavy silence filled the chamber.
The Matron did not deny it.
Instead, she looked over the council and asked, "Do any of you still object to my plan?"
None dared to speak.
Salha crossed her arms, her voice measured.
"Why would I oppose it? But do you realize what this could cost us?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"If we do this, we risk making the Three-Eyed Race our enemy.
They remained neutral in the last war, but this… this might push them into an alliance with the Wood Elves against us."
The Matron's expression darkened.
Then, with the same cold finality, she said—
"Then it is not to my plan."
Salha, however, remained calm.
"I am not rejecting your plan, Matron. But we should seek permission from the Head Priestess.
If she approves, then whatever consequences follow will not fall upon us."
The other Spider Elves nodded in agreement, their silent support forcing the Matron's hand.
With no other choice, she let out a slow breath and inclined her head.
"Very well."
Salha wasted no time.
She reached into her space ring, pulling out an ancient mirror, its frame etched with eerie, shifting symbols.
Lifting her hand, she channeled dark green magic energy into the mirror.
The artifact trembled, then floated into the air, spinning rapidly before coming to a stop.
A hazy image formed on its surface—then, within seconds, the face of a woman appeared, her piercing gaze turning toward Salha.
A voice echoed from the mirror.
"Salha, why have you called me?"
Without hesitation, Salha explained everything.
The chamber fell silent as the image in the mirror listened.
Then, suddenly—
Laughter.
Loud, unrestrained laughter filled the chamber, sending chills down the spines of the gathered elves.
They remained motionless, resisting the instinct to react.
Finally, the laughter ceased, and the Head Priestess spoke.
"I approve of your Kaandal family's plan."
The tension in the room shifted—until she added:
"But in return, I demand a sufficient blood sacrifice."
The Matron's eyes narrowed.
The Head Priestess continued, her voice smooth yet cruel.
"I want the Abyss Door to the Spider Abyss fully opened within ten years."
A wave of shock passed through the chamber.
Opening an Abyss Door in the material world required an unimaginable cost.
At minimum—10,000 souls.
Sensing their hesitation, the image in the mirror smirked.
"Do not misunderstand. I am not asking for the sacrifice from your tribe."
Her tone darkened.
"But in the coming war, at least 10,000 must die."
The Matron spoke cautiously, her voice steady but laced with curiosity.
"Head Priestess, may I ask why?"
The mirror shifted, its eerie glow now focused on Hilkrae.
The Head Priestess's voice came through, unwavering.
"Hilkrae, this is the will of the Goddess. Your Kaandal family will carry out the plan."
Her tone grew colder.
"And you are all aware of the consequences of failure."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
They could not refuse.
Salha lowered her head, accepting the weight of the command.
"Head Priestess, we will follow your will. However, the human forces in this region are weak.
For this war to claim 10,000 lives, the Nine Lake Tribe must be involved. Otherwise, the Statue Tribe alone could crush the humans before the war escalates."
For a moment, there was no response.
Then, a small point of light emerged from the mirror's surface, floating toward Salha before disappearing into her forehead.
"This will aid you," the Head Priestess said before the image vanished and the mirror fell back into Salha's lap.
A minute passed before Salha's eyes fluttered open.
The council's eager gazes locked onto her.
She met their stares and finally spoke.
"There are many humans who secretly worship our Goddess.
The Head Priestess has granted us a technique to locate them. With their aid, we can intensify the war and ensure the necessary bloodshed."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, dark anticipation settling over the council.
Then, without warning, Kaelin spoke up.
"The humans and the wolf are about to meet."
With a wave of her hand, a dark mist swirled behind her, shifting and taking the shape of a screen.
The hazy darkness cleared, revealing moving images.
A battle-scarred clearing appeared—its ground torn, its trees shattered.
At its center, a lone wolf waited.
Then, from the forest's edge, three humans stepped forward.
The Kandaal Family themselves are not aware they step on a spider web.