The trainer stands, apparently assessing the field, as the Chandelure is being shocked by the electric webbing. He is seemingly unperturbed, his eyes tracing the webbing. In fact, after a little bit, a smirk lazily makes its way across his face. He seems pleased with the development.
"She presumes to make this her domain. Esme, show her the precise magnitude of her folly. Show her the horrors of the noon."
The chandelier smiles and dips its body down in a gruesome approximation of a complacent nod. The thing then releases an intense white beam into the sky, the bright light concealing its center plume, and the sunlight from above begins to intensify. Meanwhile, an oppressively hot, arid wind blows across the battlefield, clearing the fog and drying the trees, the air, and the web.
Languidly, the trainer traces the webs with his finger, each time settling on the center, where Cayci sits. His smirk evolves into a sneer as he speaks,"All paths lead to Rome."
The thing opens its mind to everyone once more, giggling,/Or the idiotic, barbecued spider, in this case./
Now, when webs are normally exposed to fire, they shrivel. But when webs become dry–like when exposed to a bright sun and a warm wind–and dusty (say, they have an inordinate amount of static cling)...
Those webs burn.
The center flame of the Chandelure turns a scorching azure and expands into a terrible Inferno. The erratic blue fire catches the plentiful webbing all around the Luring Pokemon, following the silk. The hungry flames destroy the strands as they go, but there is always more. As the strands pass the trees, the canopy above bursts into flame, in no small part thanks to dry air.
And thanks to the guiding lines of the vast web, the flames are able to go through the barrier Cayci set around herself. Although the web is destroyed in fairly short order, the flames make contact with the hair on the Galvantula.
The flames engulf the tarantula, almost completely obscuring her form behind one large fireball. The worst part? The shield that is supposed to keep such attacks out betrays its purpose: now that the fire snuck inside, the Light Screen keeps the fire and heat in.
The sick b*tch giggles as it floats up into the fiery ceiling. As it basks in the blaze, the purple flames around it burn brighter and higher. It laughs at not only the suffering of its foe, but also at the sheer destruction it has wrought with the assistance of its enemy. The thing screams,/Burn! BURN!/
Great. It's not only a sick, crazy, psycho.
It's a sick, crazy, pyromanic