04 Storm

Fallen spires placed the isle inaccessibly outside of range from the signalers. While the absence of the relay was noticed, nothing could be done. With the storm and ice that followed, too much of the swarm was in hibernation. Resources would need to be recovered as the swarm revived.

The kesit domi had taken the hive and ensured all dauver slain. During the worst of the storm they remained inside the sub-hive. They survived not only eating from the stores and dead bugs but also from the spiricoso plants. Sixteen was the first.

His first visions were that of his kin. His flesh ripped from him, bones crushed, living each death of his kin. He saw the cycle of life and death. He saw how his kin had been free and now were slaves that would not survive the bug’s rule. Sixteen watched dauver becoming the pinnacle of life on these plains. The plains, Enkyall would be theirs would be nothing the myriapodic creatures could not do.

He became the second vision, one of storm. The kesit was and became the storm in the sky. His senses, sharp hammering ice. His touch, deep thrums of thunder. His feeling, a slow seeping cold. Sixteen had become and was. He was the kesit and became their urge to survive.

A final vision, a memory not his own. Ripped from a womb, thrown out to survive. Something saw him, reached into his chest and stilled him. Something saw him, reached into his mind and twisted hard.

* * *

His kin found him from the echos of his screams. Unlike Sixteen they were not entranced by the scent. They discovered him having fallen from the strange plant. The domi who found him could no longer see him breathing, could not hear his heart.

They lifted and carried him to be prepared for the rest of the freed domi. Eyes opened, lurching, screaming, and thrashing, he was dropped. A female called out with surprise, falling, crawling back on her hands and feet. Sixteen knew he was not what he had been. Sixteen heard her emotion and how she was afraid.

A kesit stood. Without eyes he saw what he'd been and his people were. They were ravenous cattle, freed for but a moment's negligence. He was not, he was their raw wild intelligence, he was their pain their passion, and he would be their brutality. Standing, a song babbled out from him. No meaning beyond that of calm. The adults that had heard his song stilled and looked at him again. He had been dead, now his heart beat stronger than any of their own. Ears listened to the song, pulses calmed, minds softened and swayed.

Throat tightened, the song changed from a sonorous calm. It undulated and changed to a primal call of gathering. Domi drew to him, entranced. Hands gestured to the plants, the domi began to climb. They followed and ate as he did and changed. Some screamed, others wailed, and one died when his heart ceased. All their visions were the same and they too were changed.

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* * *

Sixteen left his name and became First Dreamer. There had been 4 who found the Dreamer and took names, becoming the four high shamans. They cut down the plants and gathered their flowers and seeds. Knowing there would not be enough to share with all of the kin they anointed each on the forehead and chest. The kesit began to dream.

The kesit domi had already been on the edge of true sentience before their capture. In their hunts they coordinated with each other as a pack, they mated for life, used simple tools. After their capture, they felt primitive emotions of fear and shame. Unlike dauver who were simple hive-minded chitinous things, when The First Dreamer introduced the herb kesit domi had changed in an instant. They were kesit, and were no longer domesticated livestock, nor were they wild.

The Dreamer and shaman led the kin from the hive. The island was not far from land and so they swam from there. Many of them died from exhaustion in the chop, these were the weak. Others died from the cold, these were the elders who had long filled their purpose, and others died from the creatures in the sea, these were the unlucky.

The kin continued their migrated north into the cold until they were certain none of the bugs could survive. There they built shelters from the ice and lived off of what animals they could find and hunt. Their populace dwindled further till there were only a few hundred. Only by eating ice-cured animals, sharing heat, and building crude shelters did the kesit persist.

After the storms had passed The First Dreamer declared that they had only left behind their weak. But, even the weak gifted them, by clearing aside the brush and path for the stronger to pass. Those who remained were the strong and the worthy.

The kesit would bud with the thaw. Shoots of growth breached the cold earth and the people bloomed with them. They were one and became tribe. They were The Kin.

The Kin recalled their servitude, they recalled butchering their dead. They sang songs of the Storm of Purification. They hunted animals for the meat and crafted with their fur and bone. The four shaman led them and the Dreamer gave them vision.

“They buzz,

They come,

They eat.

Claws, they rip

On shells, our blows stop

They are bugs.

A storm comes,

We come at night.

Our blood of snow,

Our hearts of ice.

The mighty sleep,

We come.

We come on the wind,

We are night.

Young are drink,

Guts our rope,

A tower of light guides them,

They listen in their homes,

We come without light

We tread soft on the ground

We make homes of their shells

Soft is our hide.

Our flesh is sweet.

Our fingers sow well.

Our ears hear the hunt.

Our eyes see vengeance.

We are Kin.

We are the storm.”

-The First Dreamer