Sha was perched on a smooth stone ledge halfway up the shimmering wall of the main chamber, where her mother's throne glimmered with silk and light. Her legs were tucked beneath her as she wove a braid of fine silk. Pale light from glowing fungi painted her arms blue and silver as she worked, humming the melody she'd learned as a baby — one her mother, the Queen, had sung to her before she could even speak.
Around her, the sanctuary thrummed with life. Soft skittering echoed in the halls like gentle rain, and small eyes gleamed warmly from dark crevices. Her siblings spun and dangled all around her, their threads humming like harp strings under tiny feet. Sha was lost in watching them play when a familiar voice rose.
"Sha!"
A tiny spider, no larger than a dew drop, leapt onto her knee. Its legs tickled as it settled there.
"Yes, little sister?" Sha asked, speaking in perfect Arachnid.
"You said you'd show me your shadow dance today. Remember?"
Sha smiled. "Of course. I can show you now, if you'd like?"
The tiny spider bounced with glee. "Yes, please!"
Sha set her braiding aside and raised one palm. Darkness coiled up from her fingers like tendrils reaching upward — smooth, sinuous, and eager to obey her will. It had taken years of practice to summon shadows like this. They weren't alive, exactly, but they listened, and they felt familiar, even if they had no purpose beyond being beautiful.
The little spider chirped in delight as the shadows spiraled into a tiny whirlpool before dissolving into a shimmering mist that dissipated across her palm.
"You're getting better," came a familiar, softer voice from below.
Sha glanced down. The Queen was there — eight legs folded beneath her, glimmering as they always did. Her gaze was warm and ageless, a mix of patience and pride.
"Thanks, Mother," Sha said. "I still can't do much more than shapes and strands…"
"You'll grow into them," the Queen assured her. "And one day, they'll do much more."
Sha looked thoughtfully at her hands. Shadows and darkness had followed her for as long as she could remember, coiling around her like sleepy pets. They obeyed — mostly — but something deeper stirred inside them. Some strange pull, like a door she hadn't dared to touch.
"Sha, why don't you come here, dear?" the Queen asked.
"Yes, Mother," Sha replied with a soft smile.
She reached out and took hold of a few gleaming strands. The silk vibrated faintly as she let her weight lean into it. Effortless as a breath, she slid downward, webs brushing her fingertips like a song until her feet touched the floor before the throne. Shadows rippled at her heels as if eager to greet her too.
"Do they scare you?" the Queen asked.
Sha paused. "Not scared," she decided. "More curious."
"Good." The Queen approached and brushed Sha's hair back with one gentle limb. "Curiosity is the first step toward mastery. Keep listening to what they whisper — even if you don't yet understand the words."
Sha nodded, though her gaze had already drifted toward a far tunnel. Beyond the glowing fungi and endless webs, the walls darkened into something deeper — like a calling from a larger world waiting just past her reach.
More than once, she had wondered what lay beyond. Some nights, she thought she could hear it — a breeze tinged with unfamiliar scents, a sense of movement and light very different from the glowing sanctuary.
And sometimes, when the cave was too quiet, the shadows felt like they could part — as if a door had been left ajar.
"Where do you go when you leave?" Sha asked, voice hushed.
"To places where humans dwell," the Queen replied simply. "And other worlds as well."
Sha's brow furrowed. "Humans," she echoed. "That word again."
The Queen watched her carefully. "You'll know one day," she said. "When you're ready."
Before Sha could press further, a burst of chittering filled the chamber.
"Sha! Come see what we wove!" called a trio of her siblings, dangling from a web overhead.
Sha leapt up, joy spilling across her face.
As she ran after them into the glowing corridors, shadows danced in her wake. The walls glowed with luminescent fungi, and silk strands crisscrossed the chamber like a maze of glowing bridges.
"Look up!" the trio called in unison.
Above, Sha saw a beautifully woven mural of herself.
Sha blushed before thanking them. "You didn't have to do that — it's so pretty! Thank you!"
From a nearby ledge, one of her brothers called down. "Hey, Sha! Get up here!"
Sha smiled when she saw who it was and began to climb.
She clung easily to the stone wall as her siblings surged around her — small bodies shimmering like a living tapestry. When she reached the ledge, she glanced toward the one who had called — her brother, Zephyros.
Zephyros was one of a handful of Sha's siblings who stood out. Larger than most of the others and with gliding membranes between his legs, he often soared through the cavern like a dark comet. "All right, little sister," he said, clicking his chelicerae. "I called you up here for something very important. Today you'll be gliding all the way from the top ledge. I hope you've been practicing."
Sha flicked her legs, a shadow curling instinctively around one. "I still don't understand why you call me your little sister," she teased. "I'm clearly the biggest one here — except for Mother."
Zephyros gave a sharp chitter, eyes bright with amusement. "Size means nothing," he replied. "I was around long before you, Sha. I still remember the night Mother brought you into this world."
The light in the cavern seemed to hush at those words. Sha stared at him, her heart beating with a strange rhythm.
"Big Brother," she murmured, stepping closer with an innocent glimmer in her eyes, "when will you tell me about that night? Every time I ask, Mother just glares at the rest of you."
Zephyros paused, legs coiled beneath him. "If you can pull this off," he said, voice low and serious, "I'll tell you everything I can about the first time we met. Deal?"
Sha felt a thrill in her chest and nodded eagerly. "Deal. But you'd better not break your promise."
"Yeah, yeah," Zephyros replied. "And don't go blabbing to Mother. Remember — you have to glide, little sister, not just fall!"
Sha grinned as she climbed to the top of the cavern. From up there, Zephyros looked impossibly small — so small that she couldn't help but laugh.
"Hey, Zephyros!" she called. "You look like a baby!"
Zephyros was too far away for her to hear his response, but the way he stomped on one of the lower ledges told her he was flustered.
As she took in her surroundings, a knot of unease curled in her belly. She had practiced jumping from lower ledges before, but never from this height. Zephyros had told her that the higher the fall, the more the air would lift her, allowing her to glide.
Sha glanced at the cape wrapped around her shoulders — a gift from her mother when she was still an infant. Once her blanket, it had become part of her attire as she grew. After discovering that it could catch the wind like some of her siblings' silken gliders, Zephyros had insisted she learn to use it.
She took a breath. The scent of damp stone and silk filled her senses.
"Here goes," she whispered, stepping off the ledge.
As she began to descend into the darkness, wind pressed upward against her. Fear and exhilaration rushed through her chest.
"You're doing great, Sha!" Zephyros called. "Pull back a little and feel the winds guiding you!"
Sha could hardly make out his voice over the roar of the air. Panic surged as she felt her grip on the cape begin to slip. She tried to catch it again, wrapping the fabric around her hands — but it was too late. The cape escaped her grasp, and she fell faster.
"Sha!" Zephyros's voice rang sharp with alarm. "Direct your fall toward the resting web!"
Her heart thudded. The world spun past in a blur of glowing fungi. Instinct took over — she closed her eyes and breathed, deeper and slower than she ever had.
The shadows that had always danced across her hands before had never held weight, never pulled or pushed.
Until now.
And then she felt it — like hands unfurling from her fingertips. Shadows coiled up her arms and gripped the fabric for her, tugging the cape taut as if they were part of her.
Suddenly, her descent slowed.
The cape billowed out, and Sha glided — smoothly, beautifully — across the cavern, held by invisible hands.
A delighted laugh burst from her lips. "Zephyros — look! I'm doing it!"
"You're doing more than gliding, sister!" Zephyros called back, awe threaded through his voice. "You look incredible! Now come down before—"
But it was too late.
At the far end of the chamber, their mother appeared at the commotion.
The Queen of Spiders paused, her sharp gaze fixed on Zephyros — then shifted to Sha. Her expression was stern at first, then softened as she took in the shadows swirling around her daughter's hands, lifting her as gently as if the cavern itself embraced her.
And for the briefest moment, a faint, proud smile curved her lips.
"Zephyros," the Queen's voice was deceptively calm. "What was all that frantic yelling?"
Zephyros lowered his head. "My apologies, Mother. I was teaching Sha to glide again. I may have let her go too high this time, and it was harder for her to control."
There was a moment of silence. The Queen's gaze followed Sha as she glided, graceful and confident.
"You really must have more faith in your sister," the Queen said at last. "She's handling herself just fine."
Zephyros looked up at Sha once more, astonishment in his eyes as he realized she wasn't simply gliding — she was sustaining her position as though the air itself obeyed her.
"Still," the Queen added, voice gentle but firm, "you must be careful. She's more fragile than some of you."
Zephyros nodded. "Of course, Mother."
The Queen surveyed the chamber and spoke in a clear voice, "Everyone — it's time to rest. Sha, come down and help get everyone to bed."
"Yes, Mother!" Sha answered, heart soaring as she glided gracefully to the ground.
As she landed, she leaned close to Zephyros and whispered, "Don't forget your promise."
Together, they marched to their resting places — and deep in the mountain, the door Sha had yet to open shifted ever so slightly in its frame.