Athilien pulled out a lemon yellow thread, drawing it carefully over and under green and blue wefts. Blowing gently, they melded into iridescent hues of shimmering blues shot through with sunlight.
A small smile played at the corners of her lips as she wove copper strands through in a dancing rhythm. Verdigris bloomed behind her deft fingers. Speaking softly, patterns flowed like molten silver, sparking along each strand.
“A curse.” A voice whispered in her ear, and Athilien’s hand stilled, gossamer malachite strands trailing from her fingers like seaweed. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she picked up a blood red filament. “If you stay, a curse,” the voice whispered again.
“No. You promised me.”
“You must go now. Flee this place, this magic web. Now, before the curse is realized.”
Athilien fled as behind her the happy colours desolved into dust.