An oppressive feeling of loss pressed heavily over the hive as Darian’s consciousness flickered back to life. The living coating that covered the cavern, now named Vescora, pulsed weakly beneath him, its once healthy red hues now dulled and marred by jagged scars and pools of foreign blood that it eagerly absorbed. He stirred, pain rippling through his broken body. Caretaker’s massive form lay slumped nearby, silent but alive, his body riddled with gashes and cracks that oozed his precious ichor.
Around them, the once-thriving hive was a graveyard. Dozens of lifeless bodies littered the chamber; human adventurers, drones, and hunters alike. The Vescora greedily consumed the fallen, the fleshy floor enveloping corpses, dragging them into its depths to be repurposed into concentrated nutrition for the colony. Wounded drones emerged from the surrounding tunnels, their movements were sluggish but purposeful, carrying chunks of biomass, both friend and foe alike, back toward the heart of the hive.
Darian struggled to rise, his weakened limbs trembling beneath his weight. He felt the hive's losses as if he himself were among them. His mind brushed against the fragmented remains of his swarm’s consciousness, though now it could hardly be considered a swarm. Where once there was a vibrant network, there was now silence. A dozen or so worker drones--he was afraid to count and discover the true number--scurried about as the remaining prowlers returned to the nest from the surface, followed by two hunters, one of which had the corpse of the fleeing human in its jaws, though they were unable to stop the other.
Darian could feel his children as they moved about and was momentarily distracted by the three tucked deep in the nest, pondering their roles before it hit him. Protecting the Brood Mother's egg. he thought to himself, admiring their forethought. However, if those three were protecting the Brood Mother, why were there three more in Fayne's room? In all of the chaos, he had completely forgotten about his prisoner.
Darian linked his mind with Caretaker "Where... is the sorceress?" He asked fear tinging his mental voice.
Caretaker’s voice echoed faintly in his mind, labored but clear. She was secured. The drones... they collapsed her chamber to contain her during the assault. When the intruders were repelled, I ordered them to retrieve her.
As if summoned by his words, a pair of sluggish workers approached, dragging Zaelith behind them. Her fiery eyes blazed with rage, though her face was pale and smeared with dirt. The robes she wore were torn, and her tail twitched with restrained aggression.
Adjusting his posture and ignoring his pain, Darian had to exude power and control despite everything that had happened. He wasn't sure what her feelings were now that those in her swarm had been exterminated, but he needed to at least appear as though he was capable of ending her, should she lash out and attack him.
"I can walk for myself you stupid bugs!" Zaelith barked out, kicking at them to no avail.
The workers dropped her unceremoniously in front of Darian, and Zaelith pulled herself up, brushing dust off her sleeves. Her sharp gaze turned soft and pained as it swept over the carnage, lingering on the broken corpses of her companions.
"Oh my god" was all she could choke out, trying to form new words and failing. It all seemed so real, it felt real, it even smelled real.
"They... Attacked" Darian stated, "We... Defend. We win"
"I want to leave" her voice changed from broken to cold and unfeeling.
"You leave... you live..." With a command, the remaining Vescarid parted and escorted Zaelith upward to the mouth of the cave as she left without another word.
Caretaker stirred, his voice rumbling low and pained. "Was it safe to let her go?"
"She taught me magic, she taught of cooking, she seems like a good human, despite her strange appearance. If she comes back to attack us, I will not hesitate to consume her" Darian's words held spite from the recent attack. The first strike on his Hunters was one thing, they were in the open, they were in the hunting ground and subject to being hunted themselves. To come to his home, invade his sanctuary, and try to exterminate his entire family, that was another. Things were going to change, he just needed a little help.
“We have endured… but at a steep cost.” Caretaker turned his head slightly, his eyes fixed on Darian. “The hive still breathes, and the Vescarid must endure.”
Darian’s response was cut short by a sudden tremor within the hive. From the shadows, deep within the furthest recesses of the hive, a wet crack echoed through the cavern. The Brood-Mother had hatched.
The chamber filled with the sound of stretching membranes and shifting flesh. The newly hatched Brood-Mother scrambled free of her confines and stood proud above the remains of her egg; a blend of maternal grace and predatory menace. Her multifaceted eyes glanced about the hive before locking into the direction her master had laid, and through the hive mind, her voice reached him like a soothing song.
“I awaken, Your Highness,” she intoned, her words flowing with reverence and power. “The hive mourns its losses, but it shall grow stronger. Guide me, and we will rebuild.”
Darian swallowed his despair, his gaze hardening as he looked around the ruined hive. The adventurers had inflicted heavy damage, but they had underestimated the resilience of the Vescarids. Turning to the Brood-Mother, he nodded.
“Then let us begin.”
As he spoke, the drones rallied around him, their movements growing more coordinated under the influence of both Darian and the Brood-Mother’s presence. The hive stirred, reclaiming its strength. Darian’s thoughts turned inward, resolving to transform this near-defeat into a catalyst for something greater. “We have several drones that still draw breath, but with the recent attack, we require adequate defenses. I will certainly aid you, but will you assist me my beloved brood-mother?” Darian requested, his tone desperate but commanding.
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“As you wish, my master. You merely need to guide me and I will spawn you an army that will lay waste to our enemies. Your wish is my command, my master.” her words betrayed nothing, her desire was clear and concise as she swore her allegiance to her master, the King. “Now tell me, my King, where are my sisters?” the Brood-mother inquired, sensing her surroundings and reaching out only to receive nothing in response.
“I…" he hesitated, "You are the first of your kind. I could not produce others, and the invasion of our home has delayed these efforts further.” Darian was ashamed in his reply. He knew there was nothing he could have done, but letting down his hive brought a crushing weight on his core. As the first of his Brood-mothers flinched at his words, he continued, “But soon there will be more, for this is my primary focus, and you will lead them for the glory of the hive” touching in on his human side, Darian swept into a deep bow, a symbols foreign to her, but the meaning was not missed.
Darian delved into her mind and linked himself with her. He agreed with her, to do whatever was necessary to allow their hive to thrive once more. Sending commands to the Brood-mother, he passed his wishes onto her and instructed his new child as to how she should proceed.
“There is much to do, and I lack the nutrients to resupply your soldiers. Allow me to feed and soon we will number in the thousands.” The Brood-mother mimicked her master’s bow and began to shuffle toward the nearest adventurer, to strip it of its carapace and feed on its flesh.
“How shall I address you?” Darian called out, as the Brood-mother turned to face him once more.
“This is irrelevant. I must feed so that I may mature and provide for the Hive” she returned, annoyance seeping through more so from confusion than from irritation.
“Lythania will be your name. I will not keep you any longer, go forth and proliferate Prime Matriarch, and I will join you shortly.” Darian took enough time to acknowledge her subtle nod before working over the series of events that nearly led to the destruction of his hive.
Darkness still lingered within the hive, the silence foreign to a place typically humming with activity. Vescora pulsed weakly beneath Darian, having spent so much effort in restoring the King and his Caretaker. The hive’s heartbeat, once steady, had slowed in mourning. Darian’s body was broken and fragmented. It began to stir as the residual pain of the battle reverberated through his form.
“I…” Darian began, his voice raw, “I was too weak. I let them in.” His body felt unnaturally heavy, his limbs trembling beneath him as he forced himself to remain on his feet. His legs buckled under the strain, but he found his footing. His eyes hardened with resolve. “But this, this will not be the end.”
Nearby, Lythania—the first Brood-Mother—had already begun her feast, her massive form hunched over the bodies of fallen adventurers. Her multifaceted eyes gleamed with a cold hunger as she consumed the flesh of the humans, absorbing their biomass, and replenishing herself. Darian watched her, a feeling of awe building within him.
She was his creation, his first true hand-crafted companion in this new cycle, and through her, the future of the hive would unfold.
As Lythania fed, Darian mirrored her actions, moving to another pile of bodies scattered throughout the chamber. The drones scurried by, ignoring the scene as they worked to gather what remained. Their movements were still disjointed, their bodies exhausted by the recent attack. But they obeyed, drawn to the hunger that fueled the hive's revival. With every piece of biomass consumed, the hive grew stronger, the pulse of Vescora steadier.
Darian’s claws dug into the remnants of a fallen adventurer. His teeth sank into the meat, his body reacting instinctively as the warmth of fresh flesh coursed through him. The energy was electric, crackling through his senses, reigniting the reserves of strength he needed to rebuild.
Lythania’s voice echoed in his mind, low and filled with a deep, maternal resonance.
“Is this enough, my King?” she asked. Her tone held a desire for direction.
Darian’s response was slow at first, as his mind was still clouded. He could feel the energy flowing into him, could feel the hive beginning to stabilize once again.
“Yes,” he finally said, his voice hoarse, a reflection of his mind's exhaustion, “this will be enough for now. We must do more soon. We need more than this. We must grow.”
Lythania paused in her consumption, her eyes locking onto Darian’s form as if she could sense the weight of his words. “Then I will feed more,” she said, her voice steady with unwavering intent. “I will ensure that we grow, and we will rise again. For you, my King.”
The Brood-Mother was filled with a quiet determination, and Darian knew that with her at the helm, the hive would rebuild quickly—faster than he could have imagined.
With a deep, drawn-out sigh, Darian stepped away from the remains of the adventurers and looked around. The hive had been devastated, but its spirit remained unbroken. The drones, though few, continued their work, and soon the next phase would begin. The remnants of the attackers would be absorbed into Vescora, and used as fuel to sustain the growing colony.
The air was thick with the scent of fresh biomass being consumed, the pungent stench of blood and death mingling with the unmistakable smell of life being reclaimed. The drones, battered but alive, moved like clockwork, methodically gathering the dead—human, Vescarid, and the countless adventurers that had dared challenge the hive.
Lythania had matured rapidly, and with that growth came her ability to spawn. The first Vescarids were already beginning to form in the chambers beneath the surface. They would soon emerge, their beautiful forms growing alongside the hive, building a new army.
“You feed, and you grow,” Darian murmured to himself, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. He could feel the presence of the hive’s essence stirring as the Brood-Mother continued her work, her body adapting and expanding with purpose. His gaze hardened as he saw her posture shift. She was not merely a tool—she was an extension of him.
Darian stepped forward and placed a clawed hand on her back. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned her gaze toward him, almost affectionate.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked, though the answer was clear. The hive was feeding, the biomass replenishing itself with every fallen foe.
Lythania’s response was quiet, but filled with purpose. “I am, my King. Even now we grow stronger.”
The weight of her words settled within him. He had created her—not just to serve him, but to lead. And in her, Darian saw the future of the hive taking shape. She would be the key to his expansion, the catalyst that would turn this near-defeat into an overwhelming victory.
A sharp sound broke through the stillness, the unmistakable crack of eggs hatching. The first of the new brood had arrived. Darian watched as the newly born Vescarids struggled to break free of their eggs, their thin, fragile bodies quickly gaining strength. Their limbs stretched and twisted as they pulled themselves free of the remnants of their shells.
This was what Darian had been waiting for—the next step in the hive’s resurgence. Darian’s thoughts turned to his next move. The adventurers who had attacked were still fresh in his mind. But now, he saw their assault as a blessing. They had pushed the hive to the brink, forcing Darian to adapt and evolve. He would take what they had given him and build something greater in return.
“I will breed more of you,” Darian said, his voice low but filled with resolve.
Lythania nodded, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “We will thrive, my King.”
The first brood of Vescarids moved cautiously around them, their exoskeletons still soft, their movements clumsy but eager. They were learning, just as Darian had.
As the first brood mothers grew and more Vescarids hatched, Darian watched with satisfaction. The future of the hive was in his grasp, and he would make sure that it never faltered again.
The world outside might not yet realize it, but the swarm was coming.