PREVIEW

... stes.

Der Spinnenlord hatte sich noch nie so machtlos gefühlt.

Sein Erkennungsfeld – seine magischen Netzfäden – fransten in Echtzeit aus. Jeder Strang, der einst sanft mit Informationen pulsierte, zitterte jetzt und zerbrach, als ob etwas im Inneren des Nestes selbst sie gegen ihn wendete.

Er stand allein in der Thronkammer.

Groß.

Still.

Beobachtend.

Seine acht Augen scannten die vernetzten Wände, suchten nach Bewegung, nach jedem Zucken, ...

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