Luciel crouched before the sprawling tangle of tomato vines, his eyes narrowing with quiet contemplation. The green threads twisted over the soil like wild serpents, their ripe fruit gleaming faintly in the lantern light.
"It's not that you can't be packed," he murmured, half to himself.
An idea flickered in his mind — sharp, precise, and full of promise. He closed his eyes, sending a ripple of spiritual thought outward like an invisible pulse.
"Arachni, come here," he called silently through the link. "Help me weave the vines into one large cocoon."
A soft squeak answered his call. From the shadows, the crimson ghost spider — Arachni — emerged, its eight glistening legs tapping lightly against the ground. Threads of silvery silk shimmered between its mandibles.
