After the horned moles were finally added to our dungeon, a surge of responsibility and determination filled me.

My next steps were crucial—the structure of our lair had to be more than just a hideout.

It needed to become an intricate maze, a fortress that would crush intruders and protect our kin.

I took a deep breath, seized a fallen branch, and knelt on the damp earth to sketch the first lines of our new world.

The blueprint took form slowly, each stroke carving out areas that would define our territory.

At the center of it all would stand my throne, an emblem of command and vigilance. Krothe’s nest loomed above, high in the branches of a twisted tree—a vigilant crow’s perch overlooking the entire realm.

A narrow stream trickled nearby, its water catching the dull light filtering through the forest canopy.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

It would be the heart of our sanctuary.

Around this core lay the desert sector, where the sand golems would await.

Their stony forms blended seamlessly with the sandy ground, ready to shift and reshape as needed.

They were the unyielding sentries, our silent army, prepared to rise from the sands and defend our domain.

I had crafted more than one of these guardians, each unique in their stoic strength.

As I imagined them stationed, I felt a surge of pride—they would be unshakable.

Next, patches of grassland emerged in the plan. The greenery would serve as cover, their soft trails misleading and obscuring paths from any intruder who dared to venture deeper.

Trees formed natural barriers around these spaces, standing as guardians of our forest and creating a maze that would disorient even the most skilled.

For the horned moles, however, I envisioned something different—an underground kingdom of tunnels and chambers, snaking and winding beneath the forest floor.

With nimble paws and powerful claws, the moles would carve out this hidden network, their chambers a labyrinth only they would know.

The tunnels would open up in select spots, providing hidden entrances to the surface above, perfect for sudden strikes and stealthy movement.

Sand golems could use these routes as ambush points, slipping out of the earth to trap unsuspecting intruders in moments of terror.

I paused, taking a step back to observe my work. Beside me, Krothe tilted his head, his eyes fixed on the map with a questioning gleam.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

The horned moles’ leader and a tiny stone golem stood nearby, the latter’s eyes flickering with interest.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Krothe, my gaze still on the ground as my heart beat with anticipation.

Krothe ruffled his feathers, cocking his head to the side.

"It looks... acceptable. Kaw! But why all these tunnels and chambers below?"

His beady eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

I grinned, a sly idea already forming in my mind. "That's for the ants."

"Ants?" Krothe squawked, his wings spreading slightly. "Kaw! What do you mean by that?"

"Just as the horned moles joined us, I’m thinking of bringing ants into our fold as well," I replied, the thought of a fierce insect army sparking in my imagination.

Their tunnels could expand our underground empire, making our dungeon a labyrinthine deathtrap.

"I’ll go there myself and bring them back."

"And if they refuse?" Krothe questioned, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

I met his gaze with unflinching resolve.

"Then we’ll make sure they understand. And if they won’t submit, we’ll crush them. Their chambers will serve other purposes."

Krothe regarded me in silence, and then, with a sharp nod, he gave a single, approving "Kaw!"

As soon as my instructions were given, the work began in earnest.

Every creature moved with purpose, each driven by an unspoken commitment to building our stronghold.

The surface was already nearly complete—just a few refinements were needed there.

The real challenge lay below, in the dark, damp world beneath our feet.

The horned moles worked tirelessly, their numbers few but their determination fierce.

I watched as their long, sharp claws tore into the earth, carving paths with a rhythmic scratch and thud.

With every sweep, chunks of soil were cleared away, forming the tunnels and chambers I had envisioned.

Their movements were swift, almost like a dance with the earth itself, and despite the cold darkness underground, there was something poetic in their movements.

Beside them, the golems lumbered slowly, helping flatten the ground and shift the soil with their strong, stone arms.

They moved with purpose, each heaving of earth a testament to their silent loyalty.

Occasionally, they would uncover deposits of minerals glinting faintly in the dimness.

I instructed them to set these aside, knowing these minerals would be invaluable in fortifying the golems, making them stronger, sturdier, and more resilient.

Our defenses were growing, piece by piece, and it stirred something inside me—a fierce pride in this little kingdom we were crafting.

But soon, my attention shifted to my second task. It was time to bring in the ants.

I called for the horned moles’ leader, who appeared promptly, his eyes glinting under the dim light as he gave a respectful nod.

"Kraa!" he greeted, a small dip of his head showing his submission and loyalty.

I leaned forward, studying him closely.

"Do you remember the path back to your original dungeon?" I asked, voice firm but hopeful.

The mole made a series of guttural sounds, each one a bit scratchy but full of meaning.

"Kraa! Kraaa... kra!" he replied.

Krothe, perched nearby, translated with a flicker of his beady eyes.

"He says he can find it. His sense of smell and memory are strong, even over distance."

Relief washed over me.

“Good. That’s exactly what we need.”

Then, another question surfaced, one that could prove crucial.

“Tell me about your former dungeon. What can we expect?”

Once again, the mole began speaking in his rough, native sounds.

Krothe cocked his head, listening attentively before translating.

According to the mole, his former dungeon was a labyrinth of life, teeming with all sorts of underground creatures.

It was a place where darkness thrived, and life adapted to survive in tight, confined spaces.

But as he explained further, one detail stood out: the ants.

They were the dominant force, ruling the depths with organized might.

And they came in two forms—the blue ants and the red.

The blue ants, Krothe relayed, were peaceful, their nature harmonious and cooperative.

They focused on their own colonies and rarely interfered with others.

But the red ants were different—fierce, territorial, and relentless.

They dominated everything within their reach, claiming territories and resources with little mercy.

The horned moles had been driven away by these red ants, the sheer aggression and numbers of the colony forcing them out.

I saw a flicker of bitterness in the mole’s eyes as he spoke, a wound not fully healed.

My resolve hardened. I would bring the blue ants back with us, if they were willing to join, but the red ants… they posed a threat.

They were predators, driven by hunger and power, and they would challenge our growing empire.

“We’ll make our move,” I said, a steely edge to my tone.

“If the blue ants are open to joining us, we’ll welcome them. And as for the red ones…”

I felt my voice harden, my gaze sharpening as I pictured the battle that might lie ahead.

“We’ll face them, if they stand in our way. They’ll either learn to respect our territory—or fall beneath it.”

Krothe bobbed his head with a sharp caw, his dark eyes glinting with excitement.

He seemed to understand the gravity of our task, the fierce loyalty that bound us all together.

Together, we would build a kingdom in this underground world, one that would rival any above.

And nothing—no red ant, no intruder—would stand in our way.