The Tale of Arni Webber

Arachnids have always been storytellers. Their webs, spun in delicate lines, hold not just the echoes of their movements but the whispers of the world around them. Some say the first stories were never written in ink but woven in silk - fragile, intricate, yet unbreakable in purpose.

So, too, was 𝗔𝗿𝗻𝗶 𝗪𝗲𝗯𝗯𝗲𝗿.


No one remembers the exact moment they appeared, only that when the College of Arts and Social Sciences (CASS) was built, Arni was already there - perched in the water spout, watching. They were no ordinary arachnid. They moved differently, shifting with the tides of discourse and debate. They mimicked students’ mannerisms, borrowed their expressions, and learned the rhythm of hands - so many hands - scribbling, typing, crafting knowledge into form.


A quiet observer, an unseen weaver, Arni made CASS their home.


Everyone knows the story of the itsy-bitsy spider. She climbs the water spout, searching for comfort, for home - only to be swept away by the rain. Yet she climbs again, undeterred, always returning.


Arni Webber saw something in that tale.


They watched as students wrestled with words, drafting and redrafting, questioning and rethinking, building ideas that sometimes stood strong and sometimes crumbled under the weight of scrutiny. They saw philosophers dismantle meaning only to reconstruct it anew. They saw activists return to the streets even when their voices were drowned out. And in their ceaseless weaving, Arni found their own purpose - not just to observe but to weave these voices into a larger thread.


One night, when the first issue of CASSayuran was being prepared, the editors found something strange. Across their drafts stretched a delicate web, shimmering under the dim light of the publication office. At its center, woven in fine silken strands, was a single phrase:


“𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙎, 𝙗𝙮 𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙎, 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝘼𝙎𝙎.”


From that moment on, Arni Webber became more than a silent observer. They became the spirit of CASSayuran - the many-legged storyteller, the unseen weaver of words, the keeper of voices past and present.


No one has ever truly seen Arni Webber up close, but their presence lingers in whispers and webs. Over time, students and editors have shared myths about the elusive arachnid:


It is said that any unfinished article left in the CASSayuran office overnight will be found covered in a thin layer of webbing the next morning. Strangely, the drafts often seem clearer, as if touched by an unseen hand.


Some editors claim that typos vanish mysteriously from their final prints, as though a small, unseen figure has crept between the lines to correct them.


Those who have spent long hours writing alone in CASS sometimes hear the faint sound of silk unravelling, as if a story is being woven in the darkness. Some say if you listen closely, you can hear the echoes of past writers whispering through the strands.


Before any issue of CASSayuran reaches the public, tradition holds that Arni Webber is the first to read it. And when the final print run of the year is done, a small, glistening thread always appears on the editor’s desk—a silent seal of approval. This is 𝗔𝗿𝗻𝗶 𝗪𝗲𝗯𝗯𝗲𝗿. Watch out for them, as they will be watching everyone, observing and listening, looking for stories to share.


Tale by Samuel Harry Adlaon
Icon by Marxlen Sarah Sumondong 
Layout by Ricardo Jose Gagno