Children of Thryss of the Desert Brood

Overview

The Children of Thryss — an ancient race of sentient arachnids uplifted by the goddess Vel’Thara through the First Spinner Thryss — have long lived beneath the world in webbed sanctuaries called Deep Looms.
Their society is entirely female, woven around maternal hierarchy, craftsmanship, and the sacred principle of the Weave — the belief that all things are interconnected through unseen threads of intention and fate.

Though most dwell in shadowed jungles and subterranean caverns, one brood found its place beneath the sun: the Silkenborn of Egyptas.

The Desert Brood

When the Silkenborn first came to Egyptas, they encountered a people ruled by the twin gods Verdassa (life, creation, sunlight) and Ny’Thoīra (death, shadow, reflection). The brood did not resist these deities — they saw in them the same dual pattern their own myths had always taught. To the Silkenborn, Verdassa and Ny’Thoīra were not rivals but the Twin Looms, each guiding half the cosmic thread.

Adaptation came swiftly. In the desert’s heat, Silkenborn silk glands evolved to secrete cooling filaments that held moisture and reflected sunlight. Their carapaces dulled to pale bronze and sand-white hues. Over time, they came to walk openly among the people of Egyptas — tailors, architects, healers, and priest-artisans. They founded what would become the Guild of Eight Threads, bridging two civilizations through craft and faith.

The Eternal Loom

The union of Pharaoh Iseth-Ra II and Vel’Saryne of the Fourth Loom remains one of the most significant events in Egyptan history. Their marriage was not one of conquest but of harmony, binding the mortal line of Verdassa to the divine blood of Thryss.
From their union came the first hybrid child, Sa’Thyra, the Half-Woven Princess — a being born of both sunlight and silk.

At the moment of conception, the Weave itself seemed to respond: Vel’Saryne’s body reshaped to receive her human consort, and the Pharaoh’s mortal essence was strengthened with the life of silk. Both became long-lived, ageless rulers known together as the Eternal Loom.

The Raising of Sa’Thyra

Sa’Thyra was raised within the Palace of Threads, a vast living structure where human stone meets Silkenborn architecture. Her childhood became legend — neither confined to the hive nor bound to the throne.

• Tutors of Flesh and Thread: Human scholars taught her the ways of Egyptas — language, law, and the hymns of Verdassa. Silkenborn matriarchs instructed her in web-lore, silk shaping, and the harmony of the Weave.
• Dual Rites: She celebrated both sun festivals and weaving vigils, often serving as the symbolic bridge between them — appearing at dawn wrapped in gold and violet silk, the two divine colors entwined.
• Gifts of Both Worlds: As she matured, her body bore subtle hallmarks of her lineage: fine silk filaments along her arms, eyes that shimmered between amber and lilac, and a calm, empathic presence said to quiet storms and soften disputes.

Sa’Thyra became known as the Thread Between Realms — diplomat, artist, and the first to dream of a world where surface and deep hives could live as one.
It was she who formalized the Guild’s creed: “Every hand that Weaves adds to the pattern.”

Modern Reverence

The rule of the Eternal Loom continues without interruption. Vel’Saryne and Pharaoh Iseth-Ra remain secluded within the Palace of Threads, their presence more symbol than spectacle. The Guild of Eight Threads governs daily affairs in their name, and every generation of humans and Silkenborn is taught that the two rulers still weave the pattern of the realm from behind closed veils.

Among the Silkenborn, the Eternal Pair are not worshiped but regarded as living proof that the Weave can join unlike things without tearing. They are a fact, not a miracle.

Sa’Thyra, their daughter, serves as the visible bridge between palace and city. She walks the courts of Egyptas freely, mediating disputes and overseeing new looms raised along the riverfront. Most citizens have seen her only once in their lives—her skin pale from the silk grafts of her mother’s line, her eyes reflecting the desert’s mirrored light—but that is enough. In her presence the old stories feel recent, almost domestic.