An era of strife sweeps Hallownest. The six great nations have established their borders, and disputes over control of land are becoming more frequent. The great warlords will not give ground under any circumstances, in a constant fight for supremac...
Rumors are dangerous weapons. Rumors that settle in the minds of the weakest, fearful of an uncertain future. However, even the most distorted rumors have a reason. And the rumors that something was brewing inside Deep Nest had very good foundations.
Inside a beautiful crimson monastery, a solitary soul meditated regretfully and in apparent calm. A haven of crimson, where the wind coming from the caverns above brought with it strange aromas of green grass and crops bathed in the dew of dawn.
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The one who was lying seated in the center of the room was looking for some peace and harmony within herself. Possessing a delicate body in the minds of many, but a very common mistake that has been made by all those who have faced her. On his head rested a beautiful mask with fine, well-defined features, and a striking red cape covered his silhouette.
In his hands rested a weapon peculiar to these lands. A weapon that only those producers of the finest silk carried. A weapon... and an instrument. A needle. Used for both weaving and combat. Both for moving around and as a musical instrument. In the right hands, it was the perfect tool for an experienced wielder.
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The young woman used six of her eight pairs of limbs to touch him. Because only a weaver would have the mobility to master such an infallible technique. Its own thread was stretched into a perfect rope, which acquired different tonality depending on how much the user stretched the rope, or the length of the weave that would create the melodious sound waves. The symphony of a single instrument, played by the hands of an angel.
The soft notes of the melody charged the atmosphere with a peaceful and melancholic aura. Reflections of the emotional state of the one who was the goldsmith of such beautiful musical notes. A soft song to relax his spirit, his worries, and the burden he placed on his men. However, as soon as the melody played its last chord, the air became dense and oppressive.
A flash crossed the air with impossible speed. A silver blade that went directly to the one who had just finished her musical work. However, one that reacted immediately to the threat. After all, she was not a simple weaver. She was Hornet, princess of Deepnest, and the future matriarch of the Crimson Path.
