A little more than three months before my (un)fortunate release, Shalam was mindlessly harvesting Moon Shrooms—a Source reached fungi widely known as the main diet of Entomoids. She squatted in the damp and musty corner of the Hive, in front of her, an endless row of magical fungi, glowing caps pulsating in the dim light. She had been harvesting these magical fungi ever since my memory of her attested, lost in a mindless routine of harvesting Moon Shrooms while unaware of the world beyond the caves.
Moon Shrooms aside, the only source of light came from smooth crystals, the size of a thumb, lodged within sticky vines that hung overhead, casting an eerie glow on the damp earth below.
As Shalam continued her mindless harvesting, the glow of the fungi seemed to intensify, bathing her in a surreal sage-colored light.
Wrapped in a loincloth, where her eyes peered between the gaps, Shalam picked and plucked, all the while unfocused—clear that she had little to occupy her mind or heart. The mindlessness of the moment was only broken by the occasional sound of shuffling feet, sometimes shouts from other slaves Saint Galeina-who-bathes-with-tears only knows the reason why or the buzzing of wings from Entomoids guarding the cavern.
Shalam's eyes (a soft, muted green that reminded me of sagebrush on a misty morning) wandered across the cavern and found the gaping hole leading to the lower levels of the cave. It was a dangerous place where slaves were sent to extract the rarest of Moon Shrooms. The thought of being sent down there made her shudder, releasing threads of thin hair through the gaps of her headwrap. She sighed—
Her thoughts were cut short by a shout.
Shalam's gaze shifted to a slave writhing on the ground, gasping for air. That was the third time it happened that day, but Shalam seemed unfazed as she continued her mindless picking of Moon Shrooms, as if it was just another mundane task.
A faint buzzing sound caught Shalam's attention, and she looked up to see a pair of Entomoids hovering over the slave lying on the ground. His face had turned blue, and he was no longer breathing. Without a word, the Entomoids swooped down and picked up the lifeless body, their wings beating rapidly as they took off. Shalam watched silently, her heart heavy with a sense of resignation to the brutal reality of life in the cave.
The towering figures of the Entomoids, standing at a staggering height of 7 to 8 feet, dominated the cave with their massive, thorn-covered frames. These particular ones were Ent workers, the tireless laborers of their kind. With their keen eyes and sharp senses, they surveyed every inch of the Hive, even delving into the deepest and most dangerous crevices. Their scaly skin was thicker than that of a pangolin, providing formidable protection against any threats that may arise.
Each Entomoid had their preferred method of attack and defense, but Ent workers carried their trusty weapon of choice: a spear made from thick metal, tipped with a bluish crystal that glowed in the darkness of the cave. These weapons were both deadly and beautiful, a testament to the skill and craftsmanship of their makers.
As the Ent workers carried the lifeless body away into the darkness, the other slaves returned to their mindless harvesting.
Shalam eyed a tiny fungus peering through the crack in the ground. At this early stage of the Moon Shroom, the spore it produced was bearable enough even for her to breathe. She knew that was a crucial step in harvesting the mushrooms: to gather them at the right age before they released too many spores. Shalam carefully gauged its length and space from other fungi. Every detail mattered in this monotonous routine of harvesting.
Once Shalam knew what she was looking for, she carefully stroked the tip of her fingers to the mud and the fungus's root. Breaths of tiny bluish spores were released once she felt the roots. Though she wasn’t aware at first, the neon glow of the spores was a defense mechanism that explodes into vibrant snow of hellish light once they touch a living.
The stench of death hung heavily in the Hive, a constant reminder of the toll exacted by the Moon Shroom harvest. Yet, despite the mounting casualties, the Entomoids persisted in their enslavement of humans. Shalam couldn't fathom where or how they procured their endless supply of victims. All she knew was that she had to focus on the task at hand if she was to survive another day.
As Shalam scoured the cavern floor for the next batch of Moon Shrooms, her movements became almost robotic. With each pluck of the bluish fungus, she calculated the perfect angle and amount of pressure needed to avoid rupturing the spores. It was a skill honed from years of enslavement. A necessary survival tactic since the Entomoids demanded a constant supply of their favorite delicacy, and failure to deliver meant punishment, or worse, death.
The Hive was all Shalam knew. After four years of harvesting Moon Shrooms, she had learned to survive in the antagonizing place. But as she approached her fifth year, the thought of spending even more time in the cavernous depths made her uneasy. Harvesting was what kept her alive, but the monotony of it all had taken its toll. Plus, she's only seventeen. Still, she had a job to do. Young bluish mushrooms, carefully picked, equaled survival. And today was no different. But just the thought of all the years inside the Hive made her quiver. Which, by that time, was unnecessary.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Shalam's hand hovered over the soil, fingers twitching with hesitation as she eyed the young Moon Shroom. As she reached to pluck it from the earth, the cap of the fungus quivered in the air. Her eyes widened. It wasn't the spores that made her tremble, but the thought that followed.
Once all the spores were released, the young Moon Shroom’s cap split in half and revealed a toothy jaw that soon turned into an angry gaping maw, ready to chomp down on anything that came too close. But it never did. Instead, it screamed. An ear-piercing screech filled the cavern, sending shivers down the spine of Shalam and those who heard it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on ends, and she knew, at that exact moment, that no matter the size of Moon Shrooms, they were something not to be trifled with.
Shalam felt a sudden vibration under her feet as if the ground itself was alive. Ripples formed around her, distorting the surrounding landscape like a mirage. She looked around in alarm as the ground shook and groaned. Suddenly, a dozen or so adult Moon Shrooms appeared, out of the cracks and out around the surrounding area, their roots uprooted and writhing like angry snakes. They slithered towards Shalam, their caps wriggling with anticipation as they closed in.
Shalam's heart raced at the sight of the angry mushrooms, plunging her into the cold and damp darkness. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes frantically searching for any source of light. That was when she noticed a faint glow, emanating from a pair of violet crystals lodged within a sticky vine above her. An eerie light cast strange shadows on the damp earth.
Once a little more than five feet away from Shalam, adult Moon Shrooms, like predators circling their prey, uprooted their roots and opened the roofs of their caps. A burst of blue and purple spores flooded out, an intoxicating mist that had claimed many victims before. But something was different this time: the spores swirled around the adult mushrooms, intermingling, and glowing with a strange energy. As soon as the two-colored spores touched, Shalam knew her time in the Hive was ending abruptly.
Shalam froze.
As images of people screaming and burning raced through her mind, Shalam's grip tightened for survival on the moist soil, then hurled it forward. Some spores, moments away from detonation, dissipated in a cloud of dust. With a split-second reprieve, Shalam instinctively rolled away from the impending blast, her heart racing as she narrowly avoided the explosion.
Snaps, like tiny firecrackers, shattered the silence of the cave, sending shockwaves through the cavern. Shalam's ears buzzed as she struggled to keep her balance. But she soon fell to her knees.
In the aftermath, the air was thick with smoke and dust, making it difficult to see. She coughed and wheezed, struggling to catch her breath. As the smoke began to clear, she surveyed the damage with horror. The cavern was in ruins, and the remaining Moon Shrooms were angry and agitated. Shalam knew that she had sealed her fate, and the thought made her wish she had perished in the explosion instead.
Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet rippled, sending the remaining Moon Shroom stumbling away from her. Gasping for air, Shalam realized that someone had activated a skill akin to an Earth Token slotted in a Ledger, causing the transformation of the ground. However, the range at which it was activated required a decent amount of Fuel. (Note from the author: Though it may sound that Earth came from the word Earth of Earth—it wasn't. I wrote it as Earth to provide ease of narrative for Origin readers. Though, if you want me to extrapolate the exact words Shalam had thought, fine: Vertheonusar. Which is a Korinnian language roughly translated to: "Soil upon hot mud", which doesn't sound right if translated into Origin English. Let's stick to Earth, shall we?).
Shalam's gaze froze on the pair of Entomoids hovering roughly fifteen feet above her. Their shadows loomed over her, casting a daunting figure in the dimly lit cave. Shalam's heart pounded in her chest, and her body stiffened with fear. She had never been this close to an Entomoid before, and the sight of its massive form left her feeling small and powerless.
Shalam squinted her eyes as the violet crystals illuminated the Entomoid's face. She could see its compound eyes glinting in the eerie light, reflecting its savage nature. Its mandibles clicked as it loomed closer, revealing the thorny overgrowth on its scales and a jaw that could easily tear through flesh. The scales were an ominous gradient of green and purple, their iridescent sheen making them seem impenetrable even to the toughest of Hunters with their Strength Tokens slotted. Shalam shuddered as she realized just how outmatched she was.
Then, as if her brain was programmed with a set of behavioral rules when a certain situation pushed those rules to the extreme, her thoughts flickered like fireworks. She flailed her arms wildly as though searching for her Ledger to materialize out of thin air.
Despite not possessing the rarest and most powerful Ledger ever formed, Shalam believed that it was sufficient to fend off any intruders. At least, in her mind.
The Entomoid worker’s pair of antennae teetered left then right. Then repeated a couple more times before stopping. Shalam had seen these motions in many instances, and most of them were when they stared at a body under their scaled foot. Bodies that were far from alive.
Shalam had grown accustomed to the Entomoids' strange gestures and postures, but the way their antennae twitched and twisted in amusement was unmistakable. She could feel their laughter ringing in her ears, like the buzz of a thousand angry bees. It was as if they found her presence in the Hive nothing more than a mere annoyance, a worthless speck in their world. The way they belittled her with their mirth made Shalam feel as small as a pebble.
Shalam continued to swipe the air in front of her, but to no avail, just like for the last four years in the Hive, no Ledger appeared.
Shalam froze as one of the Ent Worker's antennae suddenly pointed in her direction, its pair of mandibles clicking together in what appeared to be an attempt to communicate. Before she could react, a blinding white light erupted beneath her neck, and everything went black.