The Distant Nightmare
The spider web hung in the shaft of light. It was thick. Wet. A cage. Silas stared at it. The glass jar sat on the workbench. Inside, the web pulsed. It was not silk. It was bone. "Look at it," Silas said. His voice was dry. Dust. "Look at the weave." Mara did not look. She looked at the door. The door was locked. The key was in Silas’s pocket. He knew this. She knew he knew. "Put it in the...
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