Yellow light filtered through the dome, high in the sky compared to my resting spot on the river bend. The hexagonal patches of wax kept everything inside perfectly to our liking. The sun, which had only recently been revealed to us, no longer scorched us with its rays. I had been excited at first to see the sun, considering that the forest’s sky had been permanently overcast with heavy, dark clouds since my arrival in this world, but it had quickly transitioned to annoyance. There were no trees, no foliage, no cover from the heat and light, and that had gone on for weeks since the fernen finally dispelled the gloom. But now, with Bess’ dome completed, I could stay outside perfectly content. It even kept the climate perfectly temperate, not too hot or cold, not too moist or dry. I didn’t know whether to attribute the feat to Bess’ building skills or the fantastic wax developments Bella and Belle collaborated on, but I made sure to make my satisfaction known to them all.
Only four spots in the dome differed from the otherwise uniform hexagons. Four identical, massive hexagonal holes could be seen on the cardinal sides of the dome, a window to the outside. If we ever needed a massive number of bees to move through (or a few, particularly large bees), those would be the spots to use. And when I say massive, I mean Behemoth-sized. You could stack three or four tall humans on top of each other and they’d barely reach each end of the hole. On the other hand, each regular hexagon was much smaller, just big enough to fit my own meter-long body.
The dome was a shining achievement, and Bess hadn’t stopped receiving praise from the other bees since she officially constructed the final wax cell. Despite that, she brushed off the congratulations and was already planning her next move: more building.
I realized with a start that I had been staring in one direction for the better part of the day. It was the direction Ben and Beelzebub were coming from, slowly but steadily. I’d already sent out a squad of warriors to meet them halfway and lighten their load. The poor things had taken a few breaks, far more than when they were traveling to Lemonholm, so I wanted to make sure they would arrive safely and without such exhaustion.
The entire time, I monitored Vlugh through Ben’s eyes, careful to spot any sudden moves or shifts in demeanor. Having that wild card in tow was stressing me out, which was fantastic, because it meant the stress of Lemonholm never seemed to freaking end. I had sent a Linker with the warriors to bring Vlugh back under my control, but I’d hesitated. Beatrice wasn’t sure why I might reconsider reLinking Vlugh, and who could blame her? What was I supposed to say? Oh, I’m pretty sure the gods are pissed at me for stuff totally out of my control and now they’re trying to destroy me with possessed human mech suits.
Well, considering how my bees were, they’d believe me without hesitation. But surely even they would think I’m a bit cuckoo if I told them all that.
Regardless of what my bees thought, I was convinced Jey wasn’t the only one who got a visit from an outsider during the battle. Vlugh had gotten shot through the brain, which should have been a death sentence. Now, to be fair, I seemed to recall a famous story from my old world about a guy who had a chunk of his brain blasted out and survived, but for all intents and purposes, I had actually felt Vlugh’s Mind disappear. And that was the kicker: if Vlugh hadn’t died, what happened to his Mind?
In the past, when something Linked to me had died, I knew what happened to their Mind. It faded away, disappearing into the ether, slipping through my fingers. There were only a few notable exceptions, those being Yafoot and the Vulch. Their Minds had been absorbed into my own, in a way I still didn’t fully understand.
As morbid as it might sound, when I saw Vlugh get shot, my first thought had been ‘Oh crap! Well, now I can test out absorbing another Mind.’ And try I did. But Vlugh’s Mind hadn’t behaved in the same way as other deaths. No, his Mind suddenly disappeared for a few moments rather than fade away slowly. It was bizarre to feel. And the sudden disappearance of his Mind had counted enough as his death for the Linker attached to him to die on the spot. Which, I suppose, was valuable knowledge to have. If a Linked being died, their Linker would die with them.
Except Vlugh hadn’t died. His Mind reappeared moments later, feeling slightly off, and then he blasted the Knights with flames way more intense than I’d ever seen him produce. In fact, I knew from his memories that the level of his new fire was leagues beyond anything he’d ever achieved. So, what the hell happened to him?
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It had to have been the gods. But which one? It probably wasn’t the Human, considering they were quite busy. I wouldn’t rule them out, though, considering my limited knowledge and understanding of the gods’ capabilities. But no, I thought it more likely that the Dragon god was the culprit, for the simple reason Vlugh was a Drevan. What little I knew about his people, all I knew for sure was that their connection to the Human was superficial at best, only tied to their origins as, well, humans. What they were truly connected to was dragons.
And so, a human possibly possessed by a dragon god was heading straight for my hive, with unknown intentions, capabilities, and motivations. Fun. Pissing off a dragon god was kinda scary, and that was why I hesitated to just up and Link the guy as soon as he was in line of sight. But who knew? Maybe I’d already pissed the god off.
After all, when I tried to get Grehn to talk to Vlugh, despite their sorry state, Vlugh refused to elaborate on anything. He just kept repeating, ‘I will only speak with the queen privately.’ Well, buddy, you can talk to me in private all you want. I’m just going to share with the rest of the hive in real time anyways. What was the point of a one-on-one meeting? It was clear something was up with Vlugh, and even if the god theory was nothing but speculation at the moment, he was still a risk. When they arrived, I’d meet him outside the hive and that would be that.
“Mother?”
“Hm? Oh, hi Beatrice. What bring you here?”
To my surprise, Beatrice was hovering nearby, her arms hidden behind her back or adjusting her ‘glasses’ as usual. She always seemed so busy, so I often didn’t see her in the flesh nowadays. I wasn’t complaining about seeing her now, but why didn’t she visit more often? Shame on her.
“I will be gathering several bees to have a meeting in the next five minutes. It would be ideal for you to attend as well. We must discuss the events at Lemonholm and our objectives, ideas, and strategies moving forward.”
My head tilted. “It’s unusual that you’d want to take time out of your busy schedule to hold a face-to-face meeting. Is there some reason we’re not doing this telepathically?”
“I believe this requires the utmost focus. If the bees are left to their own devices, they will probably attempt to work rather than pay attention. Or maybe it is something you passed on to me. Either way, I believe it will be more effective to meet this way.”
The sense of unease I felt while talking to Beatrice was strange until I realized she was being stoic, more so than usual. No, she usually wasn’t stoic; more like serious. This was different. Poking into her Mind, I saw she was concerned. Which made me swallow despite my dry throat. If Beatrice was worried, the hive should be worried. She had concealed her feelings from the rest of the hive to such an extent that I had to consciously search for the pit in her stomach.
“Very well,” I said. “We’ll meet in the dining hall.”
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The dining hall was still one of my favorite parts of the hive. It was spacious yet cozy, inviting and warm and familiar all at once. Bess had really outdone herself with it. It also helped that this was where we ate food, which had to be one of my favorite pastimes at this point.
But for all its greatness, the heavy atmosphere currently settled in the mass of wax cells put a dampener on the otherwise pleasant space.
The Hive Five, sans Ben and Bella, were seated in their usual spots close to me. Beatrice was just in front of me, her seat that usually sat next to my own, floating in the air like a magic wax podium. Also present were Bedivere, Beryl, and the Valkybees other than Beelzebub.
It was odd to see these bees as ‘more important’. By all metrics, they were more important than other bees. Yet we insisted that all bees, besides myself, were essentially equals. It was a bizarre consequence of my dual nature.
Once Beatrice spoke, the buzz died immediately. “I will cut straight into the heart of the matter. Lemonholm was an unmitigated disaster. On that, I believe we can all agree.”
I said nothing. Hadn’t I just rationalized with Queen why Lemonholm had some upsides? Unmitigated disaster seemed a bit harsh. Though, I didn’t necessarily disagree.
“I believe this is an issue of poor planning. Although in many ways we have been very efficient, we still have holes in our process. Our bee instincts say to do a few key things: expand the hive, protect the queen, etcetera. As a result, we have neglected other instincts we all know exist within us. Something other than bee. Rather than neglect, I would say we have avoided them out of fear. We want to be bees, but after the vultures, then Yiwi, and now the disaster of Lemonholm, I believe we can no longer avoid this other aspect of ourselves.”
“It is clear to me that in order to fulfill our duties, we must adapt in ways we had never imagined to succeed in this harsh world. But before any of that, I want to hear your thoughts on what happened in Lemonholm. Consider this a test of your ability to not only embrace these other instincts I mentioned, but to practice this unusual art of adaptation. Beck, I would like to hear your thoughts first.”