The soft glow of bioluminescent fungi illuminated the smooth, curved walls of Queen Celeste's chambers. Outside, the tunnels beyond lay silent, their stillness deepened by the season's chill seeping faintly through the resin walls. A wide oval table of hardened amber resin stretched between the Queen and her two commanders. Spread across its polished surface were maps of the supply routes, expedition plans inked in careful strokes, and markers shaped from carved shell. The faint scent of burning resin from the chamber's sconces lingered in the cool, subterranean air.
Queen Celeste sat poised at the head of the table, her hands resting lightly on the edge. Her expression was composed, her posture straight. At her right stood Commander Valeria, her long shadow stretching across the table, eyes scanning the markings with practiced precision. On Celeste's left, Commander Brooks leaned over the table, one arm braced against it, his other hand tracing the planned expedition lines.
"…If we follow the second route through the eastern channels after the thaw, we can avoid the unstable ridge entirely," Brooks said, his tone even, but focused. "It'll add half a day to the journey, but the terrain is safer for the workers."
Valeria tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze not leaving the map. "Half a day means more provisions, but fewer casualties. A worthwhile trade, in my opinion."
Celeste's calm voice followed, steady and regal. "Safety before speed. Winter has spared us conflict so far; I will not have the new season open with unnecessary losses."
They moved their markers with precision, each adjustment accompanied by the faint scrape of resin on resin. For a moment, the chamber was quiet save for the soft sound of planning—until the massive boulder sealing the Queen's chamber was rolled aside by her attendants, and someone hurried in with urgent steps.
A Warden ant stumbled inside, his breath ragged, the faint clink of his exoskeleton betraying his haste. His antennae twitched erratically, his mouth slightly open as if words were struggling to form.
"Your Majesty, I'm here with an urgent report from Chief Warden Seth. We have a situation—" He bowed quickly, voice strained. "Prisoners… from the lower tunnels… they've escaped. Three Wardens were slain before they fled upward. And we have no information on their whereabouts or their objectives."
The maps lay forgotten as Valeria turned sharply, her expression hardening. "What did you just say?" Her voice cut through the chamber like a sudden crack in the stillness.
Brooks straightened, folding his arms across his chest, a slow exhale escaping him. "Hmph… That's new. Never thought I'd live to see the day anyone broke out from down there."
Celeste's gaze remained steady on the Warden. "I see… this could become troublesome."
Valeria stepped forward, her voice firm but edged with suspicion. Her eyes narrowed sharply as she fixed the Warden with a piercing gaze. "The lower prisons are built from hardened resin and stone—the most fortified section of this colony. No one has ever escaped from there. If they managed to get out… then someone must have let them."
Brooks met Valeria's gaze steadily, his expression unreadable. "If that's the case, we're not just dealing with escapees—we've got a traitor in our ranks. Maybe more than one." His voice was calm, deliberate, each word weighed with careful consideration.
Celeste's fingers tapped lightly against the polished resin surface of the table, the faint clicking a steady rhythm in the quiet chamber. "It seems… that may be so." She paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "A traitor within our ranks would explain the unprecedented escape. It's a breach not only of security but of trust. We must act swiftly—but with caution. Rushing into accusations could fracture the colony's unity."
The Warden swallowed hard before continuing, his voice steady but edged with tension. "Orders from Chief Warden Seth, Your Majesty. Anyone below the rank of Sergeant is to guard the workers, guests, elders, and—if necessary—you yourself. Your servants are capable, but he won't take chances. Anyone above Sergeant is to engage the escapees, but with extreme caution."
Celeste nodded once, her expression composed. "Chief Seth's quick thinking is commendable."
Her gaze swept over the maps and markers spread before them. "Report to your superiors: increase surveillance in the prison sector, especially among those closest to the lower tunnels. You've done well." She paused, then added firmly, "Also, see to it that all available military ants are informed immediately. This situation demands our full vigilance."
"Yes, my Queen!" The Warden bowed sharply, the sharp scrape of his exoskeleton echoing briefly in the chamber. Without another word, he turned and hurried away, the rapid thud of his footsteps fading down the winding corridor.
Brooks stepped back from the polished resin table, his movements deliberate and calm. "If it's all right with you, Your Majesty, I'll take charge of protecting the refugees from Regina's colony until this situation is under control."
Celeste's response was immediate, her voice steady and commanding. "I agree. Go." She paused briefly, then added, "Ensure they are kept safe and informed. Their morale is as vital as their protection. Maintain strict order—no room for fear or chaos."
He gave a curt nod and moved toward the chamber's entrance. The massive boulder slid into place behind him with a deep, resonant thud, sealing the chamber once more.
Celeste then turned to Valeria, her gaze steady and resolute. Her posture straightened, shoulders squared with quiet determination. "You should go as well. We don't yet know how dangerous these enemies are. Engage them swiftly—and finish this quickly. The fewer casualties we suffer, the better."
Her eyes locked onto Valeria's, leaving no room for hesitation.
Valeria's stance tightened, her shoulders squared as she met Celeste's gaze. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I can't. You entrusted me with the title of protector—it's my duty to keep you safe, especially when danger is this close."
"You need not worry about me," Celeste replied, her tone calm but resolute. Her fingers briefly tapped the table's surface—a quiet reminder of her steady command. "My royal guards and servants will suffice. Lieutenant Tavian will be here shortly."
Valeria's eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern shadowing them. "And what if the threat surpasses his strength? What then?"
Celeste's lips curved faintly, not with amusement, but with recognition of an old, familiar habit. "There's no use arguing. You've always been stubborn."
Valeria allowed herself the faintest smirk, the tension easing just a bit. "Right back at you, Your Majesty."
Beneath the Queen's chamber stretched the tunnels of the middle divisions. The dim corridors reeked of damp dirt and stone dust, the heavy air pressing in around them. Sector Warden Domonic stood rigid with his squad, their footsteps muted against the hardened walls, echoes bouncing softly in the cavernous space.
A soldier approached swiftly, snapping a sharp salute. "Sir, orders from Chief Seth have been relayed to the Queen and all high-ranking officers."
Domonic's jaw tightened. "Good. This situation is worsening faster than I feared." He scanned the faces around him. "Listen up—these prisoners are dangerous. They won't hesitate to kill anyone who stands in their way, so stay on guard."
He turned toward the narrow tunnel leading deeper into the colony. "Secure every passage and choke point of the middle division. Do not let a single one of those fiends slip through. We cannot afford more prisoners on the loose."
Domonic's voice dropped to a low growl. "Remember, these aren't just escapees. They are a threat to every ant, every soul in this colony."
The squad dispersed smoothly, weapons raised and their exoskeletons catching faint glimmers from the swinging lanterns. Silence reclaimed the tunnels—until a sudden, piercing scream tore through the stillness, freezing every breath in the air.
Domonic spun toward the scream, eyes widening. One of his Wardens lay motionless on the cold, damp floor, dark blood slowly spreading beneath him. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the sharp, resinous scent of the tunnels. Standing over the fallen was a tall ant, his expression unreadable, posture relaxed—almost casual.
Every Warden present drew their mandibles from their sheaths, the subtle scrape of chitin against metal ringing softly in the still air. Some grips trembled with fear, others clenched with simmering rage.
Domonic's voice remained steady but carried a sharp edge of warning. "Who are you? One of the prisoners?"
The stranger tilted his head slowly, the faintest glint of amusement—or perhaps disdain—in his eyes. "Am I obligated to answer? You'll all be dead soon anyway."
"You bastard—" one of the Wardens growled, charging forward. His attack never landed—his chest was split open in a single, fluid slash. Blood sprayed like a dark mist before he collapsed with a dull thud against the cold stone floor.
The stranger didn't bother to wipe away the blood; it seemed only another part of the air surrounding him. "I am Lieutenant Xylon," he said calmly, voice low and steady, "one of our captain's strongest soldiers."
Gasps and low murmurs rippled through the Wardens. "A… Lieutenant?!" Fear crept into their voices, and several instinctively stepped back, the scrape of shifting exoskeletons filling the tense silence.
Domonic's voice rose sharply, cutting through the unease. "Don't give in to fear! So what if he's a Lieutenant? There are twenty of us here!"
Xylon's eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm insulted. You think numbers matter? Twenty grains of sand can't hope to crack a boulder."
Then he moved—so fast the air seemed to shift.
One of the Wardens spun sharply, raising his mandibles in a swift arc aimed at Xylon's side. The sharp scrape of chitin echoed through the narrow hall.
But Xylon was faster. He pivoted on his heels with fluid precision, his blade tracing a deadly crescent through the air. The edge caught the Warden's throat with a sickening crack of severed tendons. A startled scream burst from the Warden's throat—a raw, choking sound cut short as blood sprayed in a dark mist, splattering the nearby wall. The Warden's legs crumpled beneath him, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
The metallic scent of fresh blood mingled with the cold dampness of the tunnel walls.
Xylon didn't pause. He twisted his body, sending the momentum into a brutal kick that snapped another attacker's neck like a dry twig. The Warden's scream of shock and pain pierced the air before the crunch of breaking bone silenced him. His eyes flew wide in terror before he collapsed instantly, lifeless.
Behind them, a third charged with desperate rage, swinging wild blows. Xylon met the attack head-on, his blade slicing clean through armored limbs with a sharp clang of metal on chitin. The Warden howled in pain, clutching at his severed arm as blood gushed out, his screams echoing off the stone walls.
Then with brutal finality, Xylon's blade descended in a swift arc, splitting the Warden's head apart with a gruesome crunch. The scream was cut off mid-shout, replaced by an eerie silence.
The echo of violence faded, replaced by heavy, ragged breaths and the faint dripping of blood onto stone.
Xylon's voice cut through the stale air with cold disdain, each word sharp and biting. "Is this all your colony has to offer? Weak. Incompetent."
Domonic's jaw clenched so tightly his exoskeleton creaked faintly. "Maintain formation! Don't attack alone—it's suicide!" His voice echoed slightly off the tunnel walls, carrying urgency and steel.
"Oh? So you're the one keeping them from despair," Xylon sneered, the rasp in his tone matching the rough scrape of his boots on stone. "Then I'll remove you first."
In a blur, he slipped past every guard before they could react. Domonic barely brought his weapon up, the clash of metal ringing sharp and loud through his arms as he deflected the slash. He slid backward, boots scraping harshly against the stone floor, the gritty dust kicking up beneath him.
He's fast… and strong. We can't win like this.....The thought bit deep in Domonic's mind as he gripped his mandibles tighter.
Xylon came at him again. This time, the blade cut deep across his chest, blood soaking into his exoskeleton with a wet hiss. Domonic staggered, muscles trembling, struggling to hold his stance as Xylon readied to finish him.
A sudden, sharp clang echoed down the corridor—Xylon's strike was deflected mid-swing by a ringing metallic block.
The Lieutenant stepped back, eyes narrowing as they shifted to the newcomer. "Oh… impressive. You blocked me." His voice held a low, grudging respect.
Chief Seth stood before Domonic, stance solid and unwavering, weapon angled with precision. The faint scrape of his boots against stone was steady and calm.
Relief broke through the tension like a rush of cold air as one of the younger Wardens breathed out, voice trembling but hopeful. "Chief Seth! We're saved!"
Seth didn't look away from Xylon. "Are you still standing, Domonic?" His voice was calm, measured, carrying the weight of command.
"Barely… but alive, thanks to you." Domonic's breath came in short, ragged gasps.
"That's good enough for me." Seth's tone held steady resolve, unshaken by the chaos around them.
He raised his voice over the stirring crowd. "All of you still able to move—tend to the wounded. Now."
"Yes, sir!" The surviving Wardens scrambled into motion, the rustle of shifting exoskeletons and hurried footsteps filling the corridor.
"And clear the way," Seth added, eyes locked on the enemy. "I'll deal with him myself."
For the first time, a faint, chilling smile crept across Xylon's face, as if savoring the coming challenge.