At the heart of every starbug is a diamond.

Incredible pressure, enough heat to crack a tree and erupt its sap, all contained in that intangible silicate shell.

Creep all you like into their incandescent groves, child, but you must avert your eyes when you feel that first lick of warmth, if you wish to see anything again.

Tales tell of how the first starbug stole a coronal arc from a sun still pearlescent with youth; she brought it to the forest, and watched in dismay as the leaves began to crisp and the trees smouldered. So she took the arc into her own flesh, where it could do no harm.

The starbugs still tend that primordial spark through the generations, splitting its fire amongst their bodies, until one day the brilliance of the starbugs will dim.