The rival queen's hive boiled to life under her command. Chitinous banners snapped in the stale air, and her chosen strike force gathered in the outer tunnels — lean, scarred raiders bred for speed and bloodshed.
At the front stood Korr, the Blade-Mandible. His armor was jagged, dented from countless battles, and his mandibles bore grooves where flesh had once been torn. He bowed low, antennae twitching.
"Give the word, my Queen, and Rock Hollow will burn."
Queen Veyra loomed above, her pheromones washing over the raiding party in waves of fury and promise.
"You are my claws in the dark," she hissed. "Strike hard, strike fast. Bring me back prisoners if you can. If not—bring me their heads."
A chorus of clicks and hisses answered her.
The raiders poured from the hive like a living torrent. Dozens of hardened warriors scuttled into the night, vanishing through grass and soil. Their movements were disciplined, silent, a shadow creeping toward Rock Hollow.
Hours passed.
The moonlight painted the fields silver, and dew slicked every blade of grass. The raiding party moved with predatory grace, avoiding the scent marks of wild predators, tunneling when the open ground grew too wide.
Finally, Korr raised a claw. The scent of the Strategist Lord's nest hung faint on the air — fresh, sharp, defiant.
"We strike here," he pulsed. His warriors fanned out, digging shallow ambush pits, laying jagged thorns across hidden paths. They were not here to conquer. They were here to cripple.
The first Rock Hollow patrol stumbled into them before dawn — five young ants carrying seeds back from a scouting run. They froze as the raiders erupted from the soil, mandibles flashing in the pale light.
The patrol barely had time to cry out before Korr's jaws split the lead ant in half. Blood pheromone flooded the air. Panic spread.
"Slaughter them," Korr commanded. "Let the Strategist taste loss."
By the time the survivors' cries reached the tunnels of Rock Hollow, two bodies already lay broken in the grass, and the raiders were gone — leaving behind only blood, fear, and the scent of war.