Black sludge spewed from the towering smokestacks, sending a thick, breathless fog of smoke and soot hovering above the city, condensing into an acidic rain that pounded down upon the limestone and cobbles. The alleyways were charcoal with fat layers of soot, marred by the spattering of frost against the garbage; stinking, festering garbage. Even the rats turned their noses up at the sight, shivering and starved beneath the canopy of broken windowsills.

Tlot tlot.

A steady cantering of hooves drifted through the shadows, quick and patternless like the beat of the rain. A form appeared, small and mangy, out of the ashen darkness of the alleyway.

“Muse.” A quiet voice, like the slender threads of spider web, ebbed their way around the frail, emaciated creature’s ears. It made not a noise, twitching the long, gaping slit of its mouth in uncertainty. A picture rose out of its mind; silver threads of spider web dangling above the form of a small, black, arachnid.

“Muse.” The voice sang again, taunting and musical.

The creature arched its neck, straining eyes toward the long expanse of silken furred tail. There was movement amid the threads of lacey hair, but no noise. The spider image rose in the creature’s mind once again, accompanied by the distinct feeling of uncertainty. Question.

“Don’t listen,” deep and baritone, with a body the previous voice had lacked,”It’s a mist. Don’t listen.”

A mist? The words did not seem present in the creature’s mind, but rather the image of a looming fog.

“Come with us. We want you. Come with us.”

“Don’t listen. It’s a trick. I don’t want you to go.”

Esix? The word formed as an image in his mind. The spider. Large and black, more impressive than ever it truly was.

“Come….”

The spider’s voice fell silent to the creature’s ears.

With no opposition, the mist fell upon the creature’s form, and Muse followed.