Well, it was that time of year again.

The lights had dimmed. The storms--though they'd stopped, now--had left a wash of mist that clung to every dim corner of the caves, and a damp across the rock that splashed in places as Black made his way through. The spiders, this year, had come out--and that was strange. He supposed, in his vague and distant way, that they found the damp and the darkness inviting. The rats certainly had, and the spiders ate those.

He was, today, simply wandering. He'd heard of little news within the caves since Hydra had been opened, and had seen nothing surprising or of any concern to him. This seasonal alteration was the first shift, the first change, in cycles.

Quietly the black dog padded across the stone, and quietly he came to a stop partway through Polaris. The Spire, in the distance, glowed and pulsed brightly--but its light alone could not ignite the entire cave in its blue fire. The orb-light was dim, the cave darker than usual.

Hm.

He turned and moved onward. A gangly-limbed cave spider suddenly shifted, moving from where it had been frozen on the rock (undoubtedly going still upon sensing his approach). It wasn't large enough to be a threat to him, so long as it didn't get its venomous fangs into his hide, and he was hungry. He paused, staring at it, waiting for it to move, wondering if it would be good to eat. He was not a cruel being; his kills were quick. But he mostly fed on rats, and he was unsure if the bristles of a spider would be a problem when it came to meal-time.

Idly, as he watched it, as he waited, he tapped into that distant magic he'd felt flutter within him long ago: a magic that he still did not understand, whose purpose he still didn't know.

Nothing happened--as usual--and he felt the faintest twinge of disappointment as he watched the spider watching him. It would be a strange sight for another Gembound to happen on, though he didn't think of this: a large, black mastiff, standing silent and still, staring at a large and bristly cave spider that stood frozen, staring right back at him from several feet away.

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Black didn't think too deeply about the failure. He just shrugged it off--mentally, of course--and padded onward. He moved to make a wide circle around the cave spider, but it turned, facing him, raising its two long, frontmost legs to wave them at him in what he recognized vaguely as a threat display.

He paused, turning to face it, and concentrated on the mystery spell again. All else aside, he didn't think the cave spider--especially at this distance--could pose much of a threat to him.

What could this magic possibly do-? Again, nothing happened, and the dog took a slow step back as the spider made a short, fierce bluff charge of a few skittering paces.

Dangerous or not (and for all he knew, it might well be) it certainly didn't seem happy with his presence.

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Nothing happened.

Nothing ever seemed to happen, with this magic.

The black dog paused, his heavily-wrinkled brow thickly-furrowed, and gave a short, sharp woof of warning at the spider. And then, with a quiet huff, he decided it was time.

"You will work," he declared, aloud--addressing his own magic. He focused himself--all his magicka, all his considerable will--on this spell, on making it work, on seeing it through. He wanted to see what purpose it served. To learn it. To test it. His eyes on the spider, he shoved everything he had into it, as if straining against the greatest weight.

Again, nothing happened; and again, Black was left staring down a spider, seeming as though he had ordered it to begin work on something. Luckily, no one seemed to have barged in on him... yet.

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