“I am frightened, my Queen.”

“I am aware. I would be shocked if every colony in the Litany was not aware by now.” Shame was first to reach Skthveraachk, even if she could detect the humor in her mother’s words. Her closest sisters all remained in Hollowcore, laying, and had been for cycles. Only she had been ordered away from the breeding chambers, that she would be light enough to travel with the Queen. Only she had been invited to accompany her mother a quarter of the way across the world. The wrongness and danger of the journey had been put aside, her pride at the personal selection making a stone tower of her resolve. And now that she was here, feeling the awkward touches and rubs from the drones of ten dozen different colonies, that pride was nowhere near enough to stop her body from quaking like fungal spire caught in storm. “Articulate. What is it that causes you such fear, my child?”

“We have no soldiers.”

“No one has soldiers here, save for the hymnal watchers.”

“We have only workers. Relay workers. We could be killed at any moment. You could be killed at any moment.” Skthveraachk knew she was emitting fear signals every time a foreign menial tapped across her back, but was at least able to force returning graces. Customary, honest greetings with trembled antennae. The songs of the other colonies were crude sometimes, gorgeous and soaring others, but outside of rudimentary tunes there was little ability to hold meaningful exchange. She could feel the distaste of each colony she met as she fumbled over polite welcoming. Ahead, her mother had no such difficulty. Legs stroked with precision, head lowered gracefully, and the prodigious size of the Queen was seemingly no obstacle to the embraces made with the other colonies as the line of drones slowly progressed.

“That is a base and tumultuous melody, Skthveraachk. The song has come far since then, and you must learn its currents.” Shafts of light appeared and snuffed out as those marching across the walls passed over windows. Patterns forming in synchronous symmetry both at floor and ceiling. The march was deliberate and rhythmic, and in the distance, the voices and strings of the orchestra wafted down contoured halls. Each ridge and crafted rise in the cathedral deliberate, for sounds to travel length upon length. “There has never been violence at the Remembering. There will never be violence at the Remembering. To interrupt the watchers would invite the wrath of a million voices.”

“You cannot know the minds of the other colonies.”

“Oh but I can.” There was tenebrous warmth in her mother’s music, a mirth which came from depths tenable and cooled. “When you become a Queen, you gain ability to comprehend both ally and enemy. To understand their thoughts before they think them.” The notion brought a pause to Skthveraachk, a distraction from the mass of unfamiliar bodies and unfamiliar voices. It was a slow procession, measured precisely so that the stamp of leg and claw provided a steady beat beneath the hymns, and a tentative raise of head over the lengths of workers made it clear there were yet many colonies ahead of them. She was quick to duck her head low once more, as if it would mask her size to appear more like their line of workers following behind. Fixing her eyes on the slowly bobbing end of her mother ahead, trying to blot out the din of singing around them.

“Your surety is calming, my Queen. Will I also be able to learn this ability if I am needed as Queen?”

“Most hopefully. Or you and the colony will die painfully and in terror. Vhersckaahlhn,” Skthveraachk had been too busy fending off the budding frenzy and fear of her surroundings, and of puzzling over why her mother spoke of the colony’s death with such amusement, to notice the shift in the line to their right. Her embarrassment of her size momentarily abated at the sight of the haulers, of the foreign workers who nearly matched her in bulk and dwarfed their own drones in length. A dull crimson sheen to their carapace, fading to a muddy brown beneath. The previous colony having moved ahead as their turn approached, and these new heavy lugs filled their place in quicker than their size would expect to allow them. Yet something in the tune and tone her mother used as the name was uttered immediately suppressed her timid fear, and put her rearmost legs at the start of a defensive raise. “May the sky never have the misfortune of tasting you. What marvelous drones you have sent for this Remembering. Are they baritones, or is all that plating hiding tenors?”

“Skthveraachk,” The timbre was unremarkable, the lead and most brawny worker thudding antenna across her mother’s thorax. She thought for a moment their colony had named her instead of the Queen, but the realization that inflection had been deliberately left out to dilute due formality instead caused her mandibles to clack together. A bad habit. “May your song warble on forever. My colony has been most prosperous this cycle. There was abundance enough in biomass to send some of my greatest. Your marvelling is warranted. If pressed, they could rival any soldier I have seen.”

“I have indeed heard of Vhersckaahlhn-Colony’s conquest over its neighbor Hhehnstaachlk-Colony. I applaud your decisive mobilization of entire garrison nest against half-built farming fields.” Ripple traveled down the lines of relay drones to either side of their respective processions, and the chorus of voices took a slower tempo. Their exchanges softening as the subject of the raid was overheard. “And my sympathies for your lost soldiers, if you have been laboring so to replace them with workers.”

“The losses were acceptable.” Antenna of the foreign drone struck the side of her mother with force in answer, more force than was needed to speak the statement, and the workers behind Skthveraachk began to emit smells of displeasure and distaste. A pull Skthveraachk could not explain caused her to quickly rub rear legs together, to pull herself higher and allow her own calming airs to waft backwards. Their anger was hers, yet some part of her knew it was not for here, nor for now. Her Queen barely shifted from the touch, and her formality was sung unwavering. “And the biomass seized from those weaker was more than sufficient to replenish those killed. Your sympathy is refused.”

“Yet not quite enough biomass to allow you yourself to attend the Remembering, it is seen. I had hoped you would accept my invitation last cycle. It is unfortunate others here are not graced with the sight of your mass, these workers of yours nothing compared to what ballads tell of your own greatness.”

“I do not vomit with head turned high.” Even at a distance, the words relayed through the line of Vhersckaahlhn-Colony drones, the crude metaphor spoken by Queen caused another shiver within Skthveraachk. Disgust, rather than fear, at the brazen disrespect and lowering of self. “Nor do I sing in opposition to the choir. That you are continually allowed to disgrace the Remembering by appearing here yourself is persistent affront.” Music continued to reverberate from the great chamber ahead, but those travelling length of the hall had quieted. A few private taps and strokes were made between drones of the other colonies, but none quite so loud as to be overheard. None seeking to interject and be brought into the notice of Vhersckaahlhn. Her Queen answered the barbed notes with flowing soprano embrace, legs relaxed and core eased to allow the tone to mellow and dance over edges of other Queen’s timbre.

“Should the hymnal watchers ask my departure, I would obey unquestioningly. They have not. They will not. The Remembering is for us all, whether we send extensions or come as ourselves. I invite you again, next cycle, to attend as you are. All should experience the beauty of the never-ending thread themselves, at least once, before their song fades forever.” The hulking worker bristled, his hairs raising across legs and limbs. Her mother’s voice carried harmony and peace, but by end, had shifted to a colder embrace. Warmth of the sun not lost, but momentarily forgotten as cloud passed by and cooled you as you gazed upwards. So brief that it was all but forgotten as rays shone down once more. Rattling came from the heavy carapaces of the heaving hauler workers, and the harmony was rebuked in favor of a musing largo which swept aside the masking cloud.

“Should you insist on exposing yourself where it is not needed, your song will end far sooner than mine. I see you even drag a Skthveraachk-queenling along with you. Perhaps the end of your voice will be boon for your colony, as this one has the good sense to tremble when you do not. I see fear fall freely from her.” Anger froze within her, revulsion calcified; one of the crimson drones placed antennae along her head, and her own spasmed with unsurety. She could feel Vhersckaahlhn’s regard on her, the words exchanged travelling back down the line and across incalculable lengths to the nest in which the other Queen lay comfortably, secured behind ten thousand soldiers and five times as many menials. The scents were wrong, the sounds coarse. She had never conversed with another Queen outside her mother, and the sensation was as one staring into the eyes of the legion. No bite was coming at her, yet the smell and sight of her fear acknowledged felt as an attack all its own. A tranquil lake dotted with waves of laughter sounded from ahead as they ever stepped forward in unison, her mother turning head back to stare down at Skthveraachk.

“Indeed she may usurp my voice, though with hope not for many cycles yet. There is much I wish to show her, the memories of the colony first and foremost among them, but you see her at opportune time. She had just asked me of how we Queens see into one another. Vhersckaahlhn sees you, Skthveraachk-queenling; what do you see of her?” The stroke of the other’s antenna on her carapace was rough and heavy, impolite, aggressive even. Lessons on etiquette and response were quick to fill her mind, and a few subtle suggestions trickled from her sisters birthing back at nests through the chain of workers. The proper place and behavior of subordinate under view of greaters. Leg twitching, she extended antenna to answer when the look in her mother’s eye brought pause. Indecision. She met her eyes, and then looked again. Looked to Vhersckaahlhn nestled in layered protection of nest, surrounded by colony, protected by walls and burrows, bearing weight down on a queenling a small world away. It was not an attack. She wondered inwardly why the voice which sung from her responded as though it were.

“I see a Queen mocking fear in others from the safe distance of her nests.” Her notes trembled. Her posture was wrongly held. And yet the worker recoiled from her with audible hissing fury. A short, cutting noise, but enough to provoke a warning tapping from the alcoves of the walls surrounding them. The eyes of the watchers’ soldiers catching the light as bodies scattered shadows as they passed perfectly circular windows. Her mother’s laughter was far less melodic, and far less restrained, when it came again in echoing volume, and it was repeated subtly throughout the lines surrounding them.

“You will forgive her. As you see, she is still learning. Quickly, though.” Her Queen’s song was a barrier around her, assuring and steadying. Skthveraachk could not quite hold the gaze of the large worker drone, but something in her found it unacceptable to completely lower her head away from antennae either. Hairs were rigid. Rear legs were raised. The drone before her wished her harm, yet did not act. His Queen’s words came both terse and thin, scraping down the side of her thorax as much as her mother’s.

“Not quickly enough. Hhehnstaachlk-Colony will be enslaved by cycle’s end. Her nests are only four colonies from yours, are they not, Skthveraachk?” The lack of formality was deliberate this time. The edge unsheathed. Her Queen let laughter fade, and responded with same musical tone she had held throughout the exchange.

“Three colonies. Ckhehnvraahll and I have come to an agreement. You may consider her nest and soldiers tantamount to my own from now until our songs sour. We sealed our truth in this with promise that I would assist in the ploughing of her new fungal fields.” Vhersckaahlhn did not speak. The composure once held by the oppressive worker had all but evaporated, and the forceful restraint it showed spoke to the emotional turmoil of its colony and Queen. Skthveraachk herself had no response, and only vague understanding. Such matters were beyond and above her. But the discomfort of another colony comforted her greatly, and a few quick motions ensured such sentiment was passed back down the line to the still shifting and guarded workers behind her. “Hhehnstaachlk Colony is three colonies towards risefade. Risefade is where I will advise Ckhehnvraahll Queen put her fields. Will you be fast enough to reach them, too, while they are still being built? We will see.”

The line was moving. The friction of proximity was peaked, but it was a restrained sort of fury and danger. Had they made first move, Skthveraachk believed she would not be capable of stopping herself from tearing into the nearest crimson worker. The opportunity never came. Drumming, stomping claws carried both lines forward through the end of the hall and into the sweeping central hall, and scents of indignant fury and trepidation faded away with the hulking workers’ departure. Tales were told across the nests of the beauty of the dome, the weavers hanging at exacting lengths while voices raised in exultation caused the strands of silk to vibrate and sing in turn. Freeing the trapped motes of crafted smells to overpower and smother the senses. The sight of the ceiling’s carvings worn down by the smallest drone’s mandibles in perfect recreation of the Queens of the Litany. Skthveraachk would have been overwhelmed had she not been preoccupied wheezing breaths, rubbing trembling limbs over her eyes and antenna in soothing cleaning motions. Her mother had not spoken since asking the other Queen’s forgiveness on her behalf.

“I regret that my answer caused you distress, my Queen.”

“A length too far bitten, perhaps, but not enough to ‘distress’ me, my child. Vhersckaahlhn-Colony is vast and large, but its weight is like a falling tree. Graceless and barely guided. Your estimation of their Queen was not incorrect.”

“I am unfamiliar with the meaning of ‘estimation’, my Queen.” A touch of relief flourished in Skthveraachk, though her focus was steady and pure on her mother. Refusing to allow herself be distracted even by the sight of the triumvirate of titanic forms perched at head of the hall. Graspers and arms spread from their pedestals, beckoning the colonies deeper. “But I am thankful I did not overstep my position.”

“She stands where few other Queens dare to crawl and fears overstepping. Composers grant me patience with this one.” Her mother’s rearmost leg raised to stroke down Skthveraachk’s carapace, and the reassuring force of will and presence was enough to cease the instinctive and persisting shivers which had returned as soon as the threat of attack had gone. “You have spoken with another colony. You stand within the halls of the Remembering. We will sing in the choir, then be taken to our spire to listen to the recitations of our colony’s past. You will hear with your own core and see with your own eyes things many Queens will never experience in the breadth of their lives. You will learn, and you will grow, as I did, and as my mother before me.” She dipped head under the touch of the leg, and struggled to wrap mind around the words. To see with workers rather than her own eyes was the way of things. To expose self was risk unnecessary. Yet it was what her Queen wished, and what was expected of her. The tip of head turned to submissive lowering.

“May our voices carry to one another. May our songs rise to those taken by the sky. May the song never end. May the discord be silenced.” Three as one chanted from the head of the hall, their tones travelling through hollowed gaps within their podiums to amplify and spread across those beneath the arched ceiling high above. The weavers suspended on their strings echoed the words. Her Queen repeated, and she like the workers behind her followed suit. Reaching to claw on her head, antenna gave slow tap.

“I do not understand, my Queen. But I will obey so that I may learn to understand.”

“*^&(**^&(**^&(*” Her mother gazed back only long enough for the warmth in her eyes to match the words ringing from her. Skthveraachk suppressed her chitter of mirth, lest it disturb the others who began to raise on rear legs to reach for the unseen sky.

“*^&(**^&(**^&(**^&(*.”

“*^&(**^&(**^&(**^&(*?”

The triumvirate waved to her. She waved back, slowly, confused by the attention, but it would be rude to refuse a reply. Her mother was melting beside her. It was very unorthodox.

“*^&(**^&(**^&(*”

“*^&(*.”

Her children were melting, too.

“*^&(**^&(**^&(**^&(*, *^&(**^&(*…”

“*^&(**^&(*.”

“*^&(*! *^&(**^&(*, *^&(*.”

Her world was to melt, and she knew she would miss it. It was odd. The world seemed much smaller when you were dead, yet so much closer. She thrummed quietly along to the tune of Remembrance, feeling like a child again.

“*^&(**^&(*.”

“*^&(**^&(*! *^&(*.”

Skthveraachk spasmed as thought flooded back to her. Reared back and upwards, screaming out rage as the sound crushed back down around her. Eyes and voice worked as once, yet told her different stories. Chamber, ovular, twelve lengths by twelve lengths. Floor. Ceiling, eight lengths above her. Yet her eyes were blinded by light, a piercing and unnatural kind of illumination she had never experienced before. Shapes moved ahead. She could barely hear them, yet her eyes told her they were there. Underground and bathed in light. Arms reached to either side, and she was midway through the demands for information and reports when she realized no limbs reached back to touch her. No voices raised to meet hers in song. The shapes shimmered and swayed, obscured by the mixture of light around and shadow beyond the walls. Beyond the walls? Her voice told her the cavern ended ahead, yet she could yet make out the motions of the figures. Stood on two legs. Clad in strange and thin shells. Clustered in groups of three. Facing her. Alone.

She only barely acknowledged the pain from the broken right leg as her body surged forward, her scream turning to roar. Balancing weight on her back four legs so the foremost two could bring scythed edges to bare, aiming a cut low to counteract the smallness of the creatures. They recoiled. She charged. She made it within a length before weight crushed against her, head and arms slamming to wall that was not there, sending her recoiling to her haunches. Weight was redistributed, recovering without missing step despite her injured leg. Centering herself on tripod of limbs as momentum was shifted and thrown forward again. Arms raised this time rather than outstretched in case of another reprisal. Half a length, and she was slammed into wall again. Rare and instinct boiled out in screams the like of which she had not uttered since she last traveled with the hunting parties, her head cracking against solid stone she could not see. There was something blocking her. Something that was not there that was there. The creatures in front of her had retreated and backed away far, some toppling over while others yet held firm. She did not charge again; her eyes said she could advance, her voice and core said she could not. Her eyes lied. The wall was right ahead of her. Skthveraachk lowered grip, braced, and thrashed both scythed ends of forelimbs forward. They slid and skidded off air. Yet suspended in the nothing, a faint crystalline sound was heard. A small web formed in the wait, spreading from where her blades had connected. Something went ‘clink’. She reared her arms back for another strike, and was halfway through her carving sweep when her body was set alight.

This time, her scream was pain. Pure. Unfettered. Her eyes were dissolving. Her stomach was crawling out of her. She vomited onto the floor of the cavern as her legs gave way and she collapsed into the pool of her own bile. They were killing her. She was dying. Fear, pain, shuddering and sparking death crawled across her and tore her to pieces. And without warning, it was gone. She twitched on side, her weight pressing down on her, her alarm and pain signals firing out of her gaster and saturating the area with the smell of death. But she was not dead. A scan rapidly across her legs confirmed they were all present. Her carapace was not cracked. Her eyes yet functioned. Shakily, she pushed self back onto five limbs, and gave short call to locate the source of the assault. The cavern was empty. She was alone. Surrounded by creatures which slowly drew closer again, curled forward and wiggling towards her. Still dazed, she swiped forward single clawed leg, denying them access- no, wait, there were walls-…

The thought died half-formed. A thousand spitters poured their acid on her. She was dissolving from the inside. Composers save her, there were hasher barbs in her stomach and they were tearing her heart out. She screamed and collapsed once more, thrashing wildly against attacks she could not see. Fluids leaked from her and her mouth gaped and drooled. There was nothing left to vomit. When the pain vanished once more, she did not move. Did not lunge. She feigned a death she wished she could experience, and retreated to mind. Suppressed her attack instincts. Calm down. Think. Information.

She could see. She could feel. So, she was not dead. Information.

She was alone. There were no other voices but hers. Panic was refused even as it clawed at her; it would not help. She had no workers or drones or colony. Information.

She was within a cavern. A small cavern, twelve lengths by twelve lengths. Her eyes told her it was a lie. They were one sense. Her hands and voice told her it was true. They were two senses. Two to one. She was within a cavern. Information.

Pain could come at any moment. She had no idea where it came from. But it was not here now. Something controlled the pain. These creatures adapted to her attacks on the planet. They responded. They had some manner of intelligence. Get up. Pay attention.

Skthveraachk rose tentatively and with great care. Revulsion and fear and a desire to kill swirled into grotesque patterns within her core and tainted her harmony, but she did not waver. Her eyes were forced to gaze over the creatures, now near thirty that she could see, as they drew nearer and closer to her. They did not back away as she rose again, and she did not lunge for them. Instead, she looked for the different. The outlier. Forms around her drew near the wall that was not there, heads opening and closing fleshy portals. Shelled and armored forms, like those she had killed, stood to the rear of the room. But if they could inflict such pain on her, they would have done so before. Her eyes settled on the only difference. A single creature stood in front of stone box that glowed with blue light. It was staring at her. She stared back at it. The thing was unmoving, unflinching, compared to the unnatural movements made by the others like it. She stepped two lengths to the left, and it followed her with its head. She returned to the right, and it followed. Skthveraachk sucked a breath, her limbs tightening and gut twisting, but there was a need for information. She needed to test the theory. The floating web, attached to nothing and floating in the air, was before her. Raising single claw, ensuring it was held so the creature could see, she thrust it towards the spot she had assaulted as she had before when the pain came. The thing’s arm lowered fast onto the box, and her heart felt as though it was about to explode in her chest.

She did not fall. She had braced. Claws and legs scampered back three entire lengths from the wall, each motion feeling as though it would tear the limb from her. The creature’s arm raised. The pain stopped. Skthveraachk stopped. The creatures outside were making noises the likes of which she had never heard, notes that had not existed, melodies that were without tempo or rhythm. They warbled and hooted and touched one another, growing more and more animated as they watched. She noted, but kept at least one eye on that stilled thing by the glowing rock. Avoided the bizarre floating web, the crack in the air, and began to approach the wall next nearest. Slowly, painfully slow, she raised her scythe again, but did not lunge it for the cavern’s face. She extended, carefully, towards where her voice told the Queen that the edge would be found. The creature thrust one of its fatty limbs forward over the rock, and Skthveraachk froze immediately. It froze as well, arm half-lowered towards the stone. She retracted limb. It retracted its limb. The pain did not come.

The creatures around the edges of the invisible cavern were hollering and turning to face one another, their white and feathery shells twisting and hugging to them as they moved. Some rushed backwards, and she realized the entire area before her was covered with the azure shining rock formations, which if she strained to hear, all emitted the quietest of hums. One plunged its limbs down, and she flinched and balled in preparation. Yet no hurt was given. It did not look at her, not like that one in the ‘center’ of her view that continued to stare with the clearest of intents. That was the rock. The pain rock. That was the creature, the drone perhaps, controlling it. Using it. She did not know how. It did not matter. Scythe tapped back to her side, and her breath came ragged as she tried not to gag on the scent of her own purging and marks which now covered the cavern. Watched as the bipedal mite placed arm back at its side in response.

Not dead. Trapped in a cavern that had no entrance nor exit. Twelve by twelve lengths. Eight lengths high. Ovular. Walls that were there but could not be seen. Surrounded by the invading creatures which wished to destroy her nest, that could cause her pain at any moment, but did not kill her. They watched her. Slapped at glowing rocks to change what was real. An enclosed room that shone with sunlight despite there being no sun. Entirely, utterly, and wholly alone. A Queen without colony or nest or single attendant. A breath was taken in. A breath was let out. Her body shook and her core howled in an abyss of emptiness. Attack, attack, kill, break free, attack! Her thoughts were ice, and mind responded clear;

Information.