Dichromatic

Chapters

1 – The Name We Choose
2 – The Promise We Make
3 – The Path We Take
4 – The Part We Play
5 – The Future We Shape

1 – The Name We Choose

They say that opposites attract.

I would have never believed such a ridiculous claim if I hadn’t established a lasting companionship based on differences myself. Those weren’t physical, as Cecily and I were very much alike in our changeling black baldness, and they boiled down to her outgoing demeanor being a far cry from my own. I would best describe her as a rebellious and progressive individual who always spoke from her heart, with myself being a skeptical shut-in serving as a counterbalance to all of her weird ideas. I was an ardent supporter, naturally, but her endless suggestions on how we could shape the future of Hive Chrysalis were sometimes too extreme for my tastes, mostly because they involved an unhealthy level of pony-made concepts.

Despite Cecily’s fascination with all things Equestrian I rather enjoyed her company slightly very much, and from the first sounds of the buzz to the moment the dormant fell within the cave, we have been spending the time of our youth together, growing on each other as the years passed.

How much would I give to relive but one of those days!

One fateful afternoon I was on my way to meet Cecily at our usual spot called Whitefalls. I flew up the waterfall and looked around, spotting her at the edge of a nearby mushroom grove. She waved at me with a luminite trinket and pointed to a cliff where she had dragged the cap of a toadstool, the stem of which must have been three times my height. However unreasonable, it would be well within the socially accepted norms if she hadn’t also covered the cap with a piece of rectangular cloth for some reason. To add to the already quite palpable aura of nonconformity, she seemed to have brought a cooking cauldron with her, filled to the brim with various nutrients.

“Salutations, Iqqel!”

“You’re not supposed to call me that, you know,” I replied. “It’s not technically my name yet.”

A pair of white eyes much like my own rolled at me. “Aw, c’mon! You’ve been using it for like what, two or three years now? You’re getting all formal now?”

“It’s more than just being formal. Using a nickname for the sake of easier communication is one thing, but choosing and accepting an actual name is something else entirely. You know what Ezui-Kolka always says: the name we choose is a promise we make. A promise to ourselves, each other, and the entire Hive. This is why you’re not supposed—you’re not listening to me, are you?”

Cecily faked a convincing yawn and deadpanned.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

I threw my hooves in the air. “Argh! Why can’t you be serious before the single most important dormant of our lives? Just because we have already picked our names doesn’t mean we won’t be changing them! It’s a choice that will determine our future and our duties to the Hive! Surely even you realize how important the Ceremony of Names is!”

Cecily flew up and locked me in one of her airborne hugs. My wings shivered at the touch of her underbelly on my back, even more so when she nuzzled her cheek against mine. My irritation was gone, taken by the intimacy young drones like us weren’t supposed to be interested in before maturing, though I suppose we’ve crossed the line already. Maybe it was my imagination speaking—or wishful thinking—but I think Cecily might have had a crush on me.

I was kind of rather slightly okay with that when I ran my hoof over her neck.

“I’m sorry, Iqqy. I was just messing with you, that’s all. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I guess I am a bit anxious about tonight.”

After Cecily slid off my back, I followed her to the cliff which offered a colorful panorama of the entire Hive. The clusters glimmered against the dimness of the cave with a mosaic of luminite lamps and painted roofs and walls, the colors of which depended on what changelings currently resided there. That wasn’t the case at the seven bigger clusters surrounding the Spire which remained consistent in their glow, as only those hailing from the specific caste were allowed to live in their respective Prime Cluster. In there, they dedicated themselves to perfecting their role in the society alongside others like them. You could say it was like mutual mentorship for grown-ups where the Warriors trained with other Warriors, the Speakers listened to other Speakers, and so on.

Cecily and I took a moment to enjoy the view.

“It’s alright to be nervous, I think,” she said. “I know I’m freaking out myself. About the upcoming changes, about choosing the caste, about everything I will become.” She turned back to me. “I’m glad I’m not alone on this one. Ever since we first met, I felt you were someone I could rely on. You supported me when I first called myself Cecily, and you never once laughed at my ideas no matter how strange they turned. I mean, I don’t think I have ever thanked you for bearing with me all these years.”

I shook my head. “And you’ll never have to. I may not understand your interest in ponies, but I do respect you. And despite being far from a traditional one, I think the name you chose suits you. You know, a weird name for a weird changeling.”

“Wait, what? I’m not weird!”

“But you are, though,” I replied, then pointed back. “What is that thing for, anyway?”

Cecily beamed and fluttered towards the cauldron. “I’m glad you asked! It’s called a picnic basket,” she said but then tapped her chin. “Come to think of it, it’s more of picnic bucket, but that's the best I could do on such a short notice. Anyway, a picnic basket is something the ponies use in their ritual of outdoor consumption. You take a container full of foodstuffs, a blanket or two, and then you go out to a peaceful place to enjoy each other’s company. Isn’t that great?”

I sighed. What else than yet another of her revolutionary ideas?

“Why would you bring it outside if you can eat at the cluster, like a normal ‘ling?”

“I’ve talked to the Feeders who are on active duty on the surface,” Cecily said. “Big Bro Piro said eating out is supposed to make the food taste better.”

“Wasn’t that the other way around? I’m pretty sure he said they had to eat in because of a snow swarm.”

“Snowstorm. That was in what they call the winter,” Cecily said, her eyes shining with excitement. She was in her element whenever she talked about Equestrians and their customs, and my best bet was to wait it through. “They have as much as four seasons with varying weather conditions throughout the year, and winter only comes around for a couple of months. Remember how he said there are some activities in which you can only partake when there’s enough snow outside?”

I snorted. “I remember how much you wanted to kill yourself by trying out this snow’s boarding,” I replied. “But this is irrelevant! Our cave has the same season every season, and I say the food won’t taste any better here than it would back at Blackstone.”

Cecily grinned. “Well, that’s just your theory. How about a little experiment?”

The nourishments turned out delicious, which meant Cecily wasn’t the artisan behind them. She couldn’t tell a baked truffle from a mushroom stew, especially since whenever she tried to prepare either they ended up looking pretty much the same in a tasteless puddle sort of way. Logic dictated she had asked one of the Tenders to cook for her, probably Zoli-Yttel or Zolo-Sallik. Those two weirdos could make a royal feast out of nothing. Well, not nothing, obviously, that would be impossible. They could make the most of the absolute minimum, and they aspired to one day present their exquisite meals to Queen Chrysalis herself, but their chances on getting in were slim for now. They had their Ceremony last year, and the guys at the Spire wouldn’t hire anyling that young.

As my thoughts wandered around the Tenders I realized I wouldn’t want to become one of them. Gathering ingredients, hunting cave grubs, and milking aurocks all required daily ventures to the tunnels while I preferred more indoor activities, so to speak. Well, that's one caste down. Five more and I'll know what I really am.

“They say we’ll be getting a new Queen soon,” Cecily said, helping herself to a blackberry cookie. “What do you think will happen?”

I shrugged. “The same thing that happened last time, and every time before, at least according to Kolka. The old Queen will descend to the Hall of Queens and she will retire from her position, allowing a younger changeling to take her place. Then one of the elders from the Hall of Names will be chosen to announce her arrival and help her settle in.”

“Those Speakers. I think they’re overprivileged.”

“Why do you say that? They’re just doing their part for the good of the Hive like everyling else. Besides, it’s traditional for the first royal advisor to come from the Speakers. The board of representatives has a voice of each of the Seven Castes anyway,” I said. “Speaking of which, are you still aiming for that Thinker job? Or perhaps back to the Maker, with all your knack for music?”

“Nah. I used to feel I was a great musician, but in time I started considering other options as well. I actually thought about my future, and I blame you for that.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” I replied. “Pass me a truffle, will you? I think I can take one more.”

Cecily’s horn glowed white as she sent my request flying. “I mean, I like my instruments, and my magic’s not too shabby either, but I believe I can do more good as a Thinker. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll drop some of my ideas to the Queen?”

“Yeah, it would be much easier if you were her advisor, but again, those come from the Speakers. You’d have to start your career with the traditionalists at the Hall first, and with your quite original way of thinking they would throw you out by the end of your first week,” I said. “For the record, you’d make a good advisor.”

“You serious? If I were to help organize the Hive I’d have to keep an eye on all the clusters, all the castes, and all the paperwork! On the top of that, I’d be completely chained to the Spire and the Queen with no freedom for myself,” Cecily said and sighed. “It's a tough decision. Maybe I should just become a Feeder or a Warrior. Being either would allow me go to Equestria and see places we've heard so much about. Just think of it, Iqqy! There’s so much to learn from the ponies! I don’t think they’re our enemies, despite what Queen Chrysalis says.”

“Such judgment is not ours to make,” I reminded her. “I trust in Queen’s wisdom. You should, too.”

The sound of a ceremonial horn resounded across the cave.

“It is time,” I said. “Come on, our destiny awaits!”

Cecily jumped up and fluttered her wings like a mentally defective deepfly. It seemed that whatever anxiety I carried before the meal had now fallen upon her, and manifested itself as a full-blown panic. “Gosh, already? I thought there was still time! Do you have your bag? Of course you have it. Here, take this!” She grabbed my braided spider web satchel and shoved a little packet inside. “It’s called a sweet roll. Big Bro Piro said—”

“What? You’re eating their food now? Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m just thinking ahead, and I caught it from you!” Cecily replied. “The Ceremony can take hours and I’ll be starving right after. Remember, they don’t allow food down there, so you better not mention you have it. In case they asked, just pretend you have a secret lucky amulet with you or something, alright?”

“I don’t do lucky amulets! What about that picking basket of yours? You want me to wear it on my head and pretend it’s my lucky hat?”

Cecily put a hoof to her forehead. “It’s picnic, not picking.”

“Well, excuse me for not speaking pony!”

“Leave it!” she decided. “We’ll come back for it after the Ceremony!”

In the end, it was me and me alone who returned for that blasted cauldron. I still have it to this day and I'm making sure it doesn't get rusty, much like I still have the trinket Cecily put in the cauldron as we were leaving Whitefalls. The crystal ceased giving light a long time ago, but like with all other things reminding me of Cecily I refused to throw it away. Call me a stupid sentimentalist, but that's pretty much all I have left of her.

All I have is some random junk and a collection of stolen memories.

2 – The Promise We Make

Sweet rolls!

Among the many eccentric enterprises Cecily and I had undertaken over the years, making me smuggle a brittle mixture of sugar and stickiness must have been the worst. Well, maybe not. Some of her other ideas like jogging or schools had a more immaterial nature, and even if I couldn’t possibly pack them into my satchel I had to bear them anyway. For me it was just a pile of pony nonsense, but then again, I never had Cecily’s courage to act, or to fight for what I believed was just. She was a dreamer, so maybe there was method in her madness.

So I carried that damned sweet roll.

The things we do for our companions, really.

The flight to the base of the Spire didn’t take long. In the buzzing sea of nearly identical changelings Cecily pointed at some familiar faces from Blackstone, our cluster of origin to which we had been allocated after leaving the nymphery. As our first mentors, they taught us the basics about the Hive life, the importance of the Queen, and the meaning of colorful eyes and compound names in our society.

Ezui-Kolka was an old but fair-minded Thinker who organized the daily matters of Blackstone. Alongside her stood Saro-Morran, a Worker of yellow eyes tasked with digging up coal to which our cluster owed its name. With his tremendous strength and nonexistent will to work hard, his usefulness depended greatly on the third changeling who came along. Piro-Ammon, or Big Bro Piro as Cecily used to call him was a Feeder responsible for transporting love energy from the surface, a nutriment which our species wasn’t able to produce on our own. Sometimes he could be gone for days, but whenever he came back he always shared a fresh portion of anecdotes about the ponies much to the cluster’s merriment.

“Salutations, younglings!” Kolka said, greeting us with a smile as honest as the wrinkles marking her forehead. “It seems like it was only yesterday when you came around Blackstone and turned our lives upside down, yet here you are, about to take a step into adulthood! Now, whoever you’ll choose to become, and to whichever cluster the ancestors will lead you next, we want you to know that we are proud of you!”

Morran nodded. “Aye, so we be. ‘Course it would be even better if ye lasses became Workers and stayed with us. The cluster could use some able—ouch! Ye treacherous blowfish! Why would you do that?”

“To thwart your ingenious plan, of course,” Ammon said. “You’re not convincing our drones to become Workers just so you could spend your days scouting underground rivers.”

“I wasn’t—I was just—It’s a viable option to them, methinks!”

“Thank you all for being with us tonight,” Cecily said. “We’re not going to disappoint you, or the rest of the cluster, and we will definitely drop by you, if just for a short while!”

The much expected torrent of hugs and words of comfort felt like we were saying our farewells to each other, which was true from a certain point of view. We were free to return to Blackstone after the Ceremony—we pretty much had to, to gather all our stuff—but associating ourselves with one place or one group wasn’t a changeling way. I imagine a pony would have a hard time understanding our customs, but it was in our nature to develop ourselves by seeking new opportunities in different parts of the Hive. We could stay at any cluster for as long as we wished, but we didn’t feel any remorse leaving it. In the end, even Blackstone was just a cluster of origin for us.

Same goes with relationships. If what Cecily told me about pony families was true, then their younglings depended on the adults, which in turn was making the younglings obliged to maintain a relationship with whom they called their parents. Since we didn’t have parents like they did, neither Kolka nor anyling else expected us to stay around Blackstone just because we were raised there. Taking in a young drone for mentoring was a duty and a privilege, but was not based on some artificially inflated emotional bond between the two individuals.

Yeah, a pony would never get that.

The bottom line was, we did not have homes like ponies did. The entire Hive was our home.

“Break a leg!” Ammon said.

I replied with a frown. “How is that relevant?”

“Oh, it’s just a pony phrase I learned when I was at a place they call Bridleway. It means wishing someone good luck when they are about to perform on stage.”

“But wouldn’t a broken leg reduce their capabilities to perform?”

“Ponies,” he said, shrugging.

Kolka turned her gaze to the ceiling. “What strange creatures they are. I’m afraid we’ll never fully understand them,” she said, then turned to the rest of us. “You two, give us some space. And you two, step forth! No silliness now!”

Cecily and I approached. Kolka put her hooves on our foreheads, closed her eyes, and spoke a blessing barely audible in the noise produced by all other drones and their closest acquaintances.

“May the spirits of those who came before guide you in your decisions. May they help you become what you are meant to be. Seek their advice, and pay attention to the signs they grant you with,” she said and smiled. “And please, try to not break your legs.”

We nodded in unison. “Thank you, Ezui.”

“The Worker Caste be the best!” Morran shouted, but his enthusiasm was quickly dosed by a swift retribution from the Thinker. “Ouch! Oh, come on, that hurts! I think ye fractured me bone! I mean—cricks and cringes, ye’ve got all o’ them! Nay mining tomorrow, I say!”

Kolka bared her fangs in a venomous smile. “We’ll see about that, sailor-boy,” she said, then turned to us. “Good luck, younglings! We will stay here and beseech the ancestors in your cause!”

Cecily and I joined the procession of drones. With the Spire behind our backs we passed under a set of seven ornamented archways and followed a tunnel further underground. The sounds of the Hive gradually subsided and made way for a mystical ambiance only appropriate in hallowed places. Along that change came a minor shift in temperature from pleasant to tolerable. After a while of bumping into each other in the dark, the tunnel opened to a wide vestibule which paled in comparison to what came after.

The Hall of Names was best described as an underground amphitheater, the levels of which were carved back into the rock. To maintain the stability of subsequent floors, pillars or even entire sections of solid rock had been left intact, creating an illusion of a twisted labyrinth to whoever ventured down the vein-like paths leading from the open center of the Hall to its more secluded parts. Above the center, embedded within the ceiling, a giant chunk of polished luminite glowed with a steady rotation of its seven hues, as if to remind us about the seven castes which constituted our society.

Silver, the color of the Thinkers flooded the cave, providing excellent illumination of the walls all over the Hall. As far as the eye could see, the walls were covered with names of the changelings who had undergone the Ceremony of Names since the beginning of our race. Some of the names had been carved into stone with primitive tools, others written in coal or chalk. Nowadays, the most popular choice was to write your name with a dye corresponding with your caste, but I heard stories of old and unfrequented nooks of the Hall where changeling names were written in blood. Whether the donor of such dye was willing or not was a question I wanted to leave unanswered.

As I pondered over the years of history gazing upon me, Cecily pulled me to the ground.

“What are you—”

“Shh!”

I wanted to protest, but Cecily put a hoof on my mouth and nodded towards the entrance. The nervous whispering of my fellow drones subsided. In the near absolute silence which fell upon the Hall, a single set of hooves was heard.

Queen Chrysalis was a true paragon of our kind. She was tall and had slender physique, and from the pointy tip of her gnarled horn to the underside of her hooves she held the posture of an imposing leader we obeyed as much as admired. Like us, she had black carapace and shear wings, but her cerulean eyes were of a more complex constitution and resembled those of a pony. It were the eyes and the mane which changed from one Queen Chrysalis to another the most, because despite their similarities, no two had ever looked exactly the same. There was always a variation in the number and allocation of holes in their legs, the shape of the wings, or the tendency towards a specific hairdo. This one had her mane short and thinning because of her age, almost completely white where once a deep shade of azure shined, but her moves remained sure and controlled, if somewhat uneven whenever she stepped on her front left hoof.

As the Queen reached the edge of the vestibule, she said something to Lilo-Krennet, a slightly older Speaker left in charge of the Hall. He acknowledged her words, bowed, and followed her as she took the stairs to the bottom of the cave. It took only a moment for us drones to dash to the rock-cut railings. We were all eager to see if what we just realized was actually happening, but when the Queen stopped at the massive onyx doors her destination was indisputable.

“Look! It’s opening!” a drone next to me said. “Queen Chrysalis is going to the Hall of Queens!”

The Queen’s horn flashed blue against the Maker’s orange of the Hall, and the doors opened before her. I always thought of them as the entrance to an underground tomb because they weren’t placed vertically, nor were they fixed in the floor. I guess I wasn’t far since the Queens went there only twice in their lives: to gain wisdom necessary to lead the Hive, and to relinquish it as well as themselves.

When Queen Chrysalis took a step inside and disappeared in the darkness beyond the threshold, I turned to Cecily. “That means the next Queen—”

“The next Queen is one of us,” a male-sounding drone behind me said. “Oh, that’s exciting! Perhaps we should already start bowing to each other, just in case?”

I shook my head. “What I meant was that the next Queen may be one of us. There was once a Queen who spent three whole cycles inside, seventy-eighth, I think. During that time there were two groups of drones like us, but the seventy-ninth Queen emerged from the latter.”

The drone rolled his eyes. “Way to ruin the fun, nerd. I bet you’ll be the most boring Thinker ever.”

Cecily took an angry step forward and put a firm hoof to his chest. “Well, at least she can spell Thinker!”

“So can I! T-I-N-K-E-R. See?”

“You’re so—”

“You’re so right!” I said. “It really was a boring historical fact indeed. Erm, please excuse us.”

I took Cecily to the side to prevent any and all verbal assault which would undoubtedly occur. I had no idea if a drone could be kicked off their own Ceremony for inappropriate behavior, but I wasn’t too keen on finding out. At the same time I didn’t want anyling in my vicinity to disrespect the ancestors, as the longer I stayed in the Hall the more I was convinced that they were looking down at me from their names written in stone. It was creepy, and I felt it had something to do with the questionable contents of my satchel.

“I appreciate the gesture, but he was not worth the effort,” I said. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hardly. It looked like you were going to massacre that moron.”

The luminite ceiling shifted to deep red, the color of the Feeders.

Cecily sighed. “It’s really happening, right?” she said, her voice lacking its usual upbeat note. “It’s the day we’ve been waiting for. Up to this moment we were just kids, but after we dedicate ourselves to a single path nothing will be the same. No one will treat us as younglings anymore, and we’ll have responsibilities to our clusters and to the Hive. And this is great, we'll be finally free to live our lives to the fullest. I mean, this is a time of great changes, we’re even getting a new Queen—”

“Spit it out already!”

“Do you think we could still be friends after that?”

Only the solemn ambiance kept me from bursting out into laughter. “You’re stupid, you! Of all things, you’re worrying about that?”

“Please, Iqqel. This is very important to me.”

Cecily shuffled her hooves, then unstuck her stare from the ground. Her eyes were focused on me like never before, and her expression was that of a frightened changeling who just realized she found herself on the brink. When Cecily took my hoof in her own, I could feel her body trembling. I guess it finally got to her how important the Ceremony of Names was, as she looked like she was about to ask questions the answers to which would then give value to her life. Cecily was serious, and if she was serious then I could only respond in kind.

“Among all the things to change, this is the one that never will,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll go to Whitefalls again, you and I. You'll be telling me about the ponies, and I’ll keep grumbling how silly they are just to see you smile. Tonight, whether you choose to become a Nari, Keki, or Lili—it doesn’t matter, because I will stand beside you and I will always be your friend. Always.”

It seemed that my words brought her serenity she yearned. She was no longer trembling as she embraced me. “Thank you, Iqqy,” she said. “I needed that more than you think. I know that I seem relaxed, but there’s always a lot going inside my head, and talking to you helped me deal with myself, discover what I really want from life, you know what I mean?”

“Well, not entirely, but I’m glad I could be of assistance—oh, hello!”

“It’s just that with you around I—”

“Salutations, drone,” a Speaker of violet eyes said. “My name is Lilo-Skallit and I will be your confessor tonight. Are you ready to begin?”

Cecily let go of my hoof and smiled, her face now taking an alluring shade of blue. A pony would never take notice of that, because to them we all looked the same, but to me Cecily was the most good-looking changeling in the Hive, and I somewhat quite strongly appreciated that she was consistently choosing to spend her time with me. She looked great regardless of the illumination she was washed with, so I put a mental note to compliment her on that later. I intended to do it right away, but the sudden rush of adrenaline induced by the changeling in ceremonial robes took over my muscles and made me look up at him.

“I am ready.”

3 – The Path We Take

Lilo-Skallit took me about a quarter of the level away from the drones still waiting for their confessors.

“Nervous much?” he asked.

“Me? No, why?”

“You’re shredding the air like you were fleeing from a caveshark,” he said. “Take a deep breath, youngling. I’m not here to judge you on your deeds and choices, but to guide you through your Ceremony which, as you may imagine, will require conducting proper rituals on my side, but also the right attitude on yours. That said, I advise you to be honest with me, and more importantly, be honest with yourself. I understand that opening to someling you’ve just met may be difficult, so let’s start with a little warm up. Tell me, are you nervous?”

Part of me wanted to play tough, but a compassionate note in Skallit’s voice convinced me to do otherwise. No wonder the Speakers were the ones doing this. They were all a bit more empathetic and altruistic than any other caste.

“I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life,” I replied. “I mean, when I woke up I was calm and collected, then something made me feel anxious all of a sudden, then I was calm again. Five minutes ago I felt pretty in control of myself, and now I’m scared again.”

“It’s only natural. You’ve probably heard a lot about the great significance of the Ceremony of Names, and while it is such indeed, it consist of a couple of smaller steps which are easier to deal with one at the time,” he said. “The first one is simple. We need to find a place devoted to one of the ancestors where we could sit and talk. Do you know which of them you are going to invoke?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I’ve been here last week trying to find myself a proper patron, but whenever I stopped by one of the statues and looked them up in the rituary I realized I had nothing in common with them. I mean, they were all great and all, but I knew they weren’t right for me.”

“Then perhaps it’s not a matter of knowing who’s appropriate, but feeling it,” Skallit said, then picked up a lamp and showed me to the edge of the floor. “Lead on. Let your instincts guide you, and your decision will not be random.”

As I took flight, Skallit followed me and gave me an encouraging smile, so I dropped a level and looked at the tunnels in front of me. I didn’t follow them. They were too close to the upper level, and I didn’t think they could provide enough privacy, so I flew further down. No, not this one. This one’s terrible, too. That one’s already taken. Next, too narrow. And this one’s ugly—I mean, no offense, ancestors, but some of you look like you want to eat my face off.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a cavity which I could swear wasn’t there the last time I’ve been here. Well, no wonder I missed it. It never occurred to me to search for a patron between the floors, in poorly lit pockets embedded in the rock. This one looked unwelcoming to say the least, and only spacious enough to fit two or three changelings. The onyx statue inside was partly covered with webs long forgotten even by their eight-legged creators, but on the flip side, the pocket provided a good view on the entrance to the Hall of Queens which was only a couple of levels below.

The ancestor who guided me here must have had a really wicked sense of humor.

“Here,” I said. “Can we stay here?”

“Certainly,” Skallit said. He went in first, and swooped some of the webs away. “You’d think our reverence would at least keep the ancestors tidy, but it seems not many younglings have been entrusting themselves to this one recently. Let’s see… Her name is Keki-Feldora, or Feldora of the Warrior Caste,” he said, taking out a purple and gold leather-bound book of his robes. “As you know, the ancestors worthy of a statue are listed in the rituary. I will now read you about this one, and should you consider her appropriate, we will continue with the Ceremony. Otherwise, we’ll just keep searching. Just give me a moment.”

I took my time to inspect the statue. The changeling immortalized in red onyx was wearing a clunky set of armor which in no way resembled those we use today, but what caught my attention was that Feldora was unarmed. A flawed design choice, considering the great Warriors were usually depicted in the fiercest battle pose they could muster, with a weapon of choice by their side and a menacing expression on their face. Compared to them Feldora looked apathetic with her wide-eyed gaze turned upwards and only slightly bared fangs.

“Now that’s interesting,” Skallit said. “There’s no record of this Keki-Feldora.”

“What does it mean, Lilo?”

“My guess is that whoever was writing down this rituary simply missed her. It wouldn’t be the first time, you know. The Hall is full of concealed places, and every time I think I know them all I discover something new,” he said. “We can only assume that she was an exemplary member of her caste. I am sorry I cannot provide you with any more details from her life.”

“No, it’s alright,” I replied. “It’s great, actually. I know I’ve been passing on other ancestors because they all seemed so specific, while Feldora has the ambiguity I can appreciate. Is it still okay to invoke her?”

Skallit looked at the the abundance of spider web with disgust. “It certainly is. Come on, let’s clean this place a bit and make ourselves comfortable.”

Before we were done cleaning, I realized Skallit wasn’t a dead serious and overly zealous Speaker I had expected him to be. He turned out helpful and willing to listen, and I caught myself thinking of him as my own Big Bro to which I could turn for help. Apparently, not every confessor at the Hall was as boring as Lilo-Krennet.

Skallit and I sat opposite each other.

“Now, I would like to hear your opinion on the roles fulfilled within the Seven Castes,” he said. “Let’s begin with the one of your patron. Would you like to be a Warrior like Feldora?”

“Ha! I’m sure glad you didn’t see me in action!” I replied. “I’m an average sportsling, and there’s literally no task in our defense forces at which I wouldn’t be hopeless. First line? Not really. I wouldn’t be able to scare a cave grub. Second line? I can’t throw a javelin straight. Cavalry? I couldn’t get a fat aurock to cooperate, so imagine what would happen if I tried riding a caveshark.”

Skallit chuckled. “If it’s any consolation to you, I myself was too afraid to even get on either, so you’re way ahead of me already,” he said. “Remember that not every Warrior is a soldier. Some of them are spies who rely on their cunning and subterfuge.”

“That’s still working on the surface. I’d rather stay at home.”

“Does it rule out becoming a Feeder?”

“Yeah. I understand that the love energy is vital to our species, and I salute those who harvest it. One of my first mentor was a Feeder. He told me a lot about his work, about all the things and places the ponies have. The surface is a vast world, I admit it, but I don’t feel the need to visit it. There’s enough to do at the Hive, I think.”

“Like, for example, providing other types of sustenance to your fellow changelings.”

I took a quick glance at Skallit. “That’s a Tender question, isn’t it?” I asked, to which he nodded. “Well, I am able to prepare a choice of meals if that’s what you’re asking for, and I can recognize a variety of plants. However, this is all learned and not natural. If there’s a recipe telling me to add half a glass of milk then it’s easy, but if it suddenly says to add some spices up to my liking I get lost. How on depths should I know when’s enough? It all tastes the same, anyway.”

“You can’t know for sure. You have to rely on your cooking intuition!”

“Which is nonexistent,” I replied with a frown. “Eh, I would be an okay Tender I guess, but I’d much rather prefer to be great at something else.”

“Perhaps at being a Maker? It takes a lot of skill to braid the spider web like that.”

Batspit! I completely forgot about my satchel. Hopefully nothing crawled inside as we talked, or else the sweet roll might not be so sweet anymore. At least I haven’t brought the anger of the ancestors on myself for bringing it here. I’m sure Skallit wouldn’t mind, but Keki-Feldora remained as mysterious as she was when I first saw her. Hope you don’t mind I’m not following your steps, Keki! Being a Warrior isn’t for me.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t the one who made it!” I replied, playing the satchel between my hooves until I realized it may affect the composition of the treat inside. “I got it on my sixth hatchday from Kolka, the elder at my cluster of origin. I once told her that I’m making too many notes to hold them as a neat bundle of scrolls, so she had a Maker make it for me. I’m definitely not a Maker myself!”

“Why not?”

“Take painting, for example. It’s like cooking, because you also have to gather the ingredients and have a general idea about what you’re creating, but at some point you’ll need to figure out yourself how wide the line marking the stone should be. That’s insane! The thin one looks good, the thick one looks good as well, so have someling, or the Queen, decide the correct way of drawing a line!” I said. “Call me indecisive, but at least in cooking you have a chance of getting well-explained instructions. Makers have to be creative and all.”

“Creativity is a virtue which allows us to delve deeper into ourselves regardless of the caste to which we belong, but I know what you mean,” Skallit said. “That leaves us with but three: Workers, Speakers, and Thinkers.”

I winced and waved my hoof to dismiss the middle choice. “I don’t see myself as a Speaker. Being one requires some degree of leadership skills which I don’t believe I have. I’m more of a follower and I’m fine with that, as well as I’m more of a listener. I believe that by listening I can learn more, because when we speak we only repeat what we already know, and when we listen we can add to it. Uh, no offense.”

“Non taken,” Skallit replied. “Your logic is sound. How about becoming a Worker, then?”

“Oh, I could be a Worker. I’m no stranger to hard work, and although I’m not physically outstanding, I can finish the given task. It’s an interesting path, I think, and it doesn’t need much originality. I mean, paint a cluster here, clear a tunnel there, build a bridge somewhere else. I find a certain quietude in such tasks. They may seem mundane, but maybe I like mundane, and I don’t think I was hatched to do great things like the ancestors.”

Skallit shook his head. “Never sell yourself short, youngling. Sometimes the small, everyday deeds of seemingly mundane changelings are what drives the changes in the Hive the most,” he said. “I feel we’re finally getting there! Is there anything you’d like about maturing into a Thinker?”

I took a long sigh, once again facing my prime dilemma. Iqqel-Worker and Iqqel-Thinker both felt fitting to me despite being the exact opposites. It was funny, in a way. The Workers didn’t do any planning, but they followed what the Thinkers outlined. Conversely, the Thinkers didn’t do any of the actual work, but passed it onto the Workers. On the one side of the hole, I wanted to have the power to make decisions, but on the other I felt good having someling giving me instructions.

“That’s exactly my problem, Lilo,” I said. “I can’t decide between these two roles, and I find them equally important. What would you have me do? Is there a need for either caste at the moment? You guys surely have some numbers on that, right?”

Skallit’s laughter resounded throughout the pocket. “Numbers!” he shouted out. “For once, a drone who doesn’t ask about what’s trending at the moment, or what leads to the easiest life! Oh, I’m so glad we have met, thank the ancestors!” he said. When he noticed that I crossed my forelegs waiting for an actual piece of advice, he regained his composure and cleared his throat. “Erm, right. I’m sure you realize that only someone already thinking as a Thinker would ask for the advice based on numbers.”

I threw my hooves in the air. “That’s it? You’re founding your recommendation on but one word I said?”

“Not at all, and I’ll explain my reasoning in just a moment,” he said. “But before I do, would you please tell me the first name you’ve chosen for yourself?”

“I thought of Iqqel,” I replied. “You probably won’t find it on the walls because I constructed it myself. The convention follows the double consonant rule, so I chose ‘Q’ and added other letters around it. I started with ‘I’ because it’s associated with the female gender in our culture, and I thought that ‘L’ in the end will introduce a nice symmetry, and ‘E’ was the only vowel which didn’t make the name sound ridiculous. I wanted it to be short, to the point, and mine.”

“Hmm, Iqqel, Iqqel. Sounds like a Thinker’s name to me,” Skallit said, raising his hoof before I raged out at him again. “You see, while many drones choose to create their own name, not all follow the logic like you did. You took the common rules and applied them without thinking about those aspects of a name which are important for other castes. For example, those about to become Makers will often choose names that sound good. Since they will be responsible for the cultural growth of the Hive, they want their name to evoke emotions so important in their craft. Warriors, on the other hoof, want their name to carry their strength and fierceness. They want to make them sound like they were forged in the heat of battle, if you’ll excuse the metaphor.”

I scratched my head. “Huh. I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“See? You’re thinking over the issue again, and not, for instance, feeling it,” Skallit said. “You may not have noticed, but your behavior is quite specific. You expect precise instructions from the recipes. You prefer to learn through listening, not experiencing. You asked me for numbers, for raw data which you would then undoubtedly analyze. You are already—”

“I am already a Thinker at heart!” I exclaimed, springing as the mixture of relief and joy washed away what little stress resided in me. “At mind, rather. Whatever,” I added and turned to Skallit. “Lilo, I’m choosing to become a Thinker. A female one, if that wasn’t clear already. I have to admit, I’ve been leaning towards it from the beginning, but thanks to you I’ve gained a new perspective on who I really am. I am grateful for that.”

“And I am happy to have accompanied you through your discoveries,” he replied, reaching into his robes. “Now please, be seated and embrace the serenity coming from your commitment. In this crowning moment we invoke those who came before us with the words of the Litany of the Ancestors. To each name I will read from these walls, you will reply: ‘Ancestors, alter me.’ Here, put this on.”

The last thing I saw before I covered my eyes with a purple blindfold was Skallit opening the rituary and placing it between us. The sudden deprivation of one of the six senses was unpleasant at first, but I quickly welcomed the lack of distractions and focused on who I was to become.

Skallit intoned a melodious invocation.

Ancestors, whose spirits live in this hallowed place,
We call upon you for you walked these lands before us,
Look upon the one to be numbered among the faithful of your Hive!

Great Thinkers, whose duties have been long fulfilled,
We call upon you to mentor the mind, the soul, and the body,
Look upon the one to be guided along the members of your caste!

Keki-Feldora, whose deeds are written in these walls,
We call upon you in the time of the greatest of changes,
Look upon the one to be altered through the veneration of your name!

There was a pause.

From the sounds of robes sweeping the floor I could tell Skallit stood up to begin the Litany.

“By the name of Ezuo-Kassin—”

“—Ancestors, alter me,” I replied.

“By the name of Lili-Rhaani—”

“—Ancestors, alter me.”

“By the name of Saro-Terrek—”

“—Ancestors, alter me.”

Like many customs of our culture, the Litany of the Ancestors represented the ever-changing nature of the Hive, but the total number of ancestors called to a given cause was constant: forty-nine plus one. The first number was meant to represent the seven members of each of the Seven Castes, while the last one was reserved for your own patron.

“By the name of Keki-Feldora—”

“—Ancestors, alter me.”

I felt Skallit approaching so I straightened up, greeting the smooth touch of his sleeve on my face. He put a hoof on my forehead just like Kolka did earlier. “To formalize your choices, youngling, repeat after me,” he said. “Yesterday a drone, tomorrow Ezui-Iqqel of the Thinker Caste.”

“Yesterday a drone, tomorrow Ezui-Iqqel of the Thinker Caste.”

“Ancestors, Keki-Feldora, we thank you for watching over Ezui-Iqqel in the time of the greatest of changes. May your example inspire her to bettering herself for the growth of her own as well as the entire Hive, and may she never rests in pursuit of serving her fellow changelings to the best of her skills. So be it now and for all time.”

I got liberated from the blindfold. I blinked several times trying to accommodate myself to my supposedly new eyes, but they did not feel any different. Skallit opened his rituary on the inside back cover where a small rectangular mirror presented me with my brand new look. My eyes were no longer white, but they became silver! It wasn’t the most spectacular change I could have undergone, granted, but I had no doubt that I was now someling more.

“Congratulations, Ezui-Iqqel. You are now a changeling Thinker of Hive Chrysalis. Bear your name with pride!”

“Thank you, Lilo-Skallit,” I replied, giving my reflection a stupid grin. “I will.”

I nodded at the undisturbed face of Keki-Feldora. I should come back in the near future and offer a prayer to thank her for watching over me. Maybe clean this place up, as well. Most importantly, I should check the archives to learn more about her. Yes, I’ll make this my first, self-imposed research project as a changeling Thinker.

“Now that’s interesting.”

I turned around. “Hmm? What’s so interesting down there, Lilo? Wait—oh, it’s my friend! Hey, Cecily!”

I became so engrossed in my own Ceremony of Names I forgot Cecily was having hers at the same time, so when she looked at me, my heart skipped a beat. I expected to meet her mischievous, yet at the same time incredibly warm and joyful stare, but instead I saw sadness and guilt, only glimpses of those as she quickly turned her attention back to the opening entrance to the Hall of Queens. It was unlike Cecily to ignore anyone like that, and I would even feel surprised if it weren’t for the aftershock which came when my brain processed what I just saw.

Her eyes were black.

“Her eyes. Black. There’s no caste of black eyes, is there?”

Skallit shook his head. “Not as we think of it. The color of her eyes indicates that her Metamorphosis has begun. You should be proud,” he said. “Your friend is the next Queen.”

4 – The Part We Play

“Stop! Stop the Ceremony!”

“Iqqel, wait!”

“Cecily!”

I thrust my way past Skallit and jumped off the pocket, fluttering my wings like my life depended on it. It really did, in a way, or at least its overall worthiness in the days to come. By the time I reached the bottom, the doors to the Hall of Queens were already closing. I only caught a glimpse of Cecily as she turned to me and mouthed a silent goodbye—or perhaps an apology? I couldn’t tell, I just threw myself towards her, but I wasn’t quick enough. Just before the doors separated us for good, I read one more emotion in her void eyes.

She was frightened.

“No! Cecily!”

I punched the massive doors with all my might as if that could make them open again, but it wasn’t enough. I screamed, delivering all of my rising hysteria in form of a blow, but the onyx remained unyielding. I just wanted to see Cecily again, my best companion, even if only for but a moment longer, but the entrance was sealed tight. I cried at my own helplessness, no longer denying the realization which unearthed itself in my mind.

“Come back…”

I felt a touch on my shoulder. When I turned, I saw Lilo-Krennet standing over me, and shocked Skallit who just landed beside him.

“Lilo,” Skallit said. “I understand you were the confessor of the future Queen. Ezui-Iqqel here has been a friend of hers. Could you please not condemn her outburst and ease her troubled mind?”

I looked up at Krennet with renewed hope, but his expression was that of someling about to deliver the news of a fatal accident.

“She’ll be back, right? Cecily will come back soon?”

“You must understand, young Iqqel, that the spirits of our past Queens will shape your friend in ways we cannot comprehend. Through her Metamorphosis, they will mold her into someone far greater and more important than either of us, or the one she once was,” Krennet said, leading me away from the doors. “She has become a vessel for the new Queen to be born, and she will soon assume the leadership over the Hive.”

“But what about our cluster? What about our mentors?”

“All who helped Cecily grow can pride themselves that they helped her become ready. They will rejoice because the one they personally knew has become their Queen, even though she will have no memory of her past self.”

“Will she at least remember me?”

Krennet stopped in his tracks but he didn’t look at me.

“No. She will not.”

Something inside me broke. It must have been a barrier protecting the rests of my self-control from being overflowed by the torrent of emotions which surged across my mind and body alike, because I stomped my already trembling hooves and lashed out at Krennet.

“No! This isn’t happening! Cecily will remember me, because we’re friends and we’ve promised each other that we’ll keep together no matter what!”

“Lower your voice, Ezui!” Krennet said, losing his usual benevolence as he was losing his patience. “I understand it’s difficult for you, but you need to accept that reality. Many changelings need—”

“I don’t give a dead bat about the needs of the many! I want my Cecily back! I want her back!”

“You can’t have her back!”

Krennet’s voice echoed across the Hall and put an end to my protests, at least those verbalized ones. They weren’t worth much at this point, turning into a faltering mess of sobs and incomprehensible denials, so I kept them to myself.

Of all the drones taking their Ceremony today, why it had to be her? I had known Cecily since about forever, and I knew she’d laugh if someling told her she was destined to become the next in line to the Swarm Throne. She was brave to think differently than everyling else, even Queen Chrysalis herself, and despite acting insane on occasions, she always put the good of others above her own. She always strove to make our lives better. To make my life better!

Now, everything that made her unique would be forgotten. She would become another Queen Chrysalis, locked in her Spire without the slightest idea of all the great things she could have accomplished as an ordinary, yet so special changeling.

Special to me.

We will never have lunch together again.

No! I will not allow that!

Think, Iqqel, think! As a brand new Thinker you’re bound to find a way out. That’s what your caste is best at: analyzing the problem and finding the solution. Fact: you’ve just undergone your Ceremony of Names, and you are free to live your life as a full member of the society—so far so good. Co-occurrence: a new Queen of the Hive is being born at the same time—what are the odds, anyway? Complication: the new Queen is your best companion without whom your life has a rather quite slightly less value—as you’ve just discovered. Outcome: when she will emerge from the Hall of Queens she will go live at the Spire and do whatever Queens do to keep the ceiling over our heads from collapsing—figuratively speaking, that is.

Probability of spending quality time together again: insufficient.

Think harder!

Right now, the entire Hive is gathering outside to greet the new Queen, which means my best bet will be to talk to her before she goes public. I may have only a moment to tell her all about, well, herself, so I need to make sure my last minutes with her will be unshared. Kidnapping the Speakers? No, that’s too extreme, and I don’t have enough time to organize that. Blasting the doors and going after her? No, I can’t smuggle that much explosives without anyone noticing. Also, not enough time. What else remained? Think, Iqqel! What is that Queens do right after they’re born but before anyling else gets a chance to see them?

It hit me.

“If I can’t have her, then she’ll have me,” I said, straightening up. “Lilo-Skallit, I am grateful for your guidance, but I no longer wish to be a Thinker. I will not be a Thinker.”

Hot under the collar of his robes, Krennet glared at me. “First you rebel against the will of the ancestors, and now this nonsense?”

I allowed myself to a slight smile. “The ancestors. Right.”

When I looked around the hallowed place that was the Hall of Names, I saw drones and their confessors watching me carefully from every floor. Some stared at me with fear, others with disgust, maybe a couple with genuine admiration. I could swear there was more of them than our group initially counted, and that even the Speakers had their own confessors standing beside them, but the changing light of the luminite ceiling made it impossible to determine their number.

Step by step, I approached the black doors.

“There really is something about this place, isn’t it?” I said, more to myself than to anyone else. “We can’t explain why our eyes only change while we’re here, and why there’s no way to conduct the Ceremony of Names anywhere else. I believe it is because the spirits of the ancestors are truly alive within these walls, and that they continuously listen to our choices. Despite being long gone from this world, they still want to help us. They want to guide us, and inspire us to great things we were always meant to do.”

I glanced back where Krennet and Skallit were throwing each other questioning stares. They didn’t seem to understand. To be honest, I myself didn’t quite understand how this absolutely irrational idea came to my mind, but I believed. For the first time in my short life, I found myself in the Hall of Names believing that the names written on the walls weren’t just a way of keeping track of our population.

They reminded us that the ancestors were watching.

“So I stand before them now!” I exclaimed. “I was once told that the Ceremony of Names is about realizing our purpose. I used to think it’s just a simple pick out of seven options, but it’s more than that. Much more. I now understand that my destiny was never to be a Thinker helping Cecily pursue her dreams, but to help the Queen preserve them as a confidant she needs!”

“That’s enough!”

“Krennet, wait!”

I threw myself at the black doors, knowing that Cecily was somewhere on the other side, alone and scared, but hopefully guided by the spirits of the previous Queens who summoned her. I no longer needed to shout to ascertain myself whether they were listening. A mere whisper sufficed to renew my vow.

“Queens of the bygone ages, hear my voice. Ancestors watching over us, listen to my plea. Yesterday a drone… tomorrow Lili-Iqqel of the Speaker Caste.”

Somebody grabbed me.

“Let me go! I’m not done yet! Yesterday a drone, tomorrow Lili-Iqqel of the Speaker Caste!”

I lost my balance and fell, my gaze turning to the luminite ceiling which broke in half before my very eyes. The silvery surface got tainted with a skewed arch of green which blazed across it, but unlike the regular fire this had its burning core perfectly black, like an all-consuming void. Wiggling, I looked at Krennet dragging me, but at the same time the fire descended from the crystal and engulfed him in flames.

“Watch out, Lilo! Fire!”

“You’ve had enough attention for tonight, and it’s high time—By the ancestors!”

Amidst the smokeless inferno, Krennet stopped and stared at me, eyes wide open. Why wasn’t he saving himself? Wherever I looked, the Hall of Names was on fire, and the flames were quick to shatter the silver surface of the ceiling. They burst anew, obscuring what seemed to be a different hue, but I couldn’t discern it in the overwhelming chaos. The strange blackness seared my eyes, but the more I tried to shield myself from it the more it hurt. I tried to look away, but it was impossible. Soon I didn’t need to keep my eyes closed, because the black core of the fire consumed everything, obscuring the world around me.

If I brought the judgment of the ancestors upon myself for what I was trying to accomplish, then so be it now and for all time.

“Yesterday a drone. Tomorrow, Lili-Iqqel of the SPEAKER CASTE!”

* * *

I was dead.

I had to be. The ancestors couldn’t stand any more of my obnoxious demands and they figured it would be much easier if they just put me out of my misery. That’s what you get for blasphemy, apparently. I wasn’t sure if I liked this afterlife, and the mysterious figure sitting by my side was in no way encouraging. It remained motionless, washed in the bloodied light, probably busy counting all of my past wrongdoings. On the flip side, it resembled a changeling, so perhaps I wasn’t that doomed.

My memory kicked in, and without asking for second opinion decided we’d be focusing on Whitefalls now. Might as well. It was me who came up with the name, but to be honest I only did it to spare myself a lecture on the pony naming convention. The place had no official designation, anyway. Some changelings called it the River, others the Creek, and others again the Waterfall whenever they came there to resupply their clusters, but those names all referred only to the watercourse spurting from the cave’s walls, and not to the many points of interests in its vicinity. Therefore, Whitefalls. Cecily said she liked how unique and mysterious it sounded, which was absurd considering my intentions, but the name stuck.

Cecily.

I moaned, remembering what took place shortly before my demise.

“It would seem the ancestors ruled in your favor.”

The figure sounded familiar! I moved my head and blinked to refocus my gaze, realizing that for a freshly deceased I was experiencing a lot of numbness in my body. Must be some kind of a post-traumatic echo, or worse, I was only partially dead and my spirit still held to the mortal realm for obvious reasons.

“S-Skallit? What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said, amused. “We were afraid you’d be dining with the ancestors tonight, Lili-Iqqel.”

“No, I don’t suppose they would appreciate my—wait, how did you just call me?”

“See for yourself.”

Skallit helped me sit up and passed me his rituary. I felt a surge of excitement, paying little attention to the fact I was not dead at all, and still near the entrance to the Hall of Queens where I must have passed out. The luminite ceiling changed its red hue to a soothing shade of blue which made it a little difficult to see, but when Skallit moved his lamp closed to my face, I saw my real reflection for the second first time in my life.

“They turned violet! It worked? But how?”

“We don’t really know,” he replied. “Even Lilo-Krennet couldn’t explain it. He said that whatever happened to you, happened by the will of the ancestors. It was their way of reminding us how little we understand the mystery behind our names, and the Ceremony itself despite conducting it for centuries. He advised we all meditate on what the Hall of Names truly represents.”

“Sounds like a good topic for the next week’s sermon.”

“He also said he’ll have you polish every single statue for disturbing the peace.”

I sighed and closed the rituary. “Yeah, I guess it’s a fair penance,” I replied. “Ugh, I feel like someling threw a bucket of salt at my eyes. Do you think that’s important?”

“It may be. When you called out your name, your eyes… broke,” he said. “At least that’s how it looked from our perspective. I saw a black flame dancing on them, then the silver of your iris shattered and got replaced by what you see now. Then you hit the floor in a dead faint. I’m no expert, but it sure didn’t look pretty. Maybe you should go have your eyesight checked soon.”

“Are you saying I’m going to have to wear glasses? Eww.”

“No. I’m saying that you may go blind if you won’t.”

“Thanks for the amazing moral support, Lilo.”

Skallit smiled. “That’s what the Speakers are for, right?” he said. “Now, however bizarre it may sound, your Ceremony of Names is complete yet again. You are free to go and celebrate as a changeling Speaker of Hive Chrysalis. Bear your name with pride, and for the love of the ancestors, please stick to it this time.”

I stood up, turning my gaze at the onyx doors. “Did Cecily—Did the Queen come out yet?”

“We’re still waiting.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

“You do understand that she will have no memory of you.”

“I have. That’s what counts.”

“So be it now and for all time,” Skallit said, then looked above my head. “Ah, Lilo-Krennet, you’re back! I’m happy to say that Iqqel of the Speaker Caste has regained consciousness and is feeling well!”

Krennet frowned in apparent annoyance, but I could see glimpses of relief in his stare. “How fortunate to us all. I was afraid I would have to appoint someling else to clean the statues third week in a row,” he said, glaring at Skallit who pretended he didn’t notice any of it. “You, Iqqel, of all changelings! You were always the quiet one, and you decided to pull a stunt like that tonight? I swear, you’re lucky that it doesn’t make any sense to forbid anyling from coming to the Hall, else I’d ban you for eternity!”

I noticed Skallit rolling his eyes just outside Krennet’s peripheral vision. “She’s been through a lot. Why don’t you tell her the good news?”

“Good news?” I echoed. “What good news?”

“While you were unconscious, Krennet managed to uncover the scriptures regarding your patron.”

“What? But you’ve said—”

“—that there was nothing in the rituary, which is true,” Krennet said, showing us a cylinder marked with a set of seven golden rings entwined tightly into the crest of the Hall of Names. “Our writings are not devoid of the mention of Keki-Feldora, which however ambiguous isn’t half as old or forgotten as you would expect it to be. It seems the reason she wasn’t included in the rituary was that the authors had trouble with classifying her to one of the Seven Castes.”

“What do you mean? She was of the Warriors, wasn’t she?”

Krennet unrolled a yellowed scroll and placed it between us. Apparently, his definition of old was different from mine, but I was too thrilled by his discovery to think how much of a querulous fossil he was despite not being that advanced in years.

“From what I gathered, she was a rather average one,” he said. “Listen. A long time ago, at our final days of holding our ground against the ponies on the surface, Keki-Feldora was part of the Queen’s entourage. It was during her visit to what the scriptures call Yugalobol which can be translated as the Anchorage of Tranquility.”

“Sounds like a seaside location. Was it a port?”

“It’s impossible to tell. It might as well have been a place of knowledge, a military outpost, or a simple inn at the crossroads. What we know for certain is that the group was ambushed by the marauding ponies. They managed to retreat to safety, but the Queen ended up severely injured and required love energy to survive. Unfortunately, the Feeders who could provide that had been slain in battle,” Krennet said. “Here’s an intriguing part. The Queen ordered all her changelings to leave her behind and protect the vacsol voben, the future they forged in this Anchorage place. Don’t ask me what it was, the scriptures are incredibly vague in this passage.”

Skallit seemed equally engrossed by the story as myself. “Come on, no changeling would abandon the Queen!”

“Unless she valued said future more than her own life,” Skallit pointed out. “Now, where was I? Ah! Look here. It says Feldora disobeyed the order. When the night came, she sneaked upon the ponies celebrating after the successful raid, and harvested as much love energy off them as she could carry. Now, I don’t know if the number is real, or did it fall victim to rising every time the story has been retold, but it seems Feldora gathered love from as much as seventeen ponies.”

“Seventeen, are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, my enthusiasm quickly dosed by Krennet’s rebuking stare. “Sorry. It’s just that most changelings can feed of two, three different sources at a time. Even the Feeders with their conditioning can savor up to ten tastes, else they get sick.”

“That’s why you should never mix your drinks,” Skallit said with a grin.

Krennet poked Skallit with the cylinder. “You younglings can’t take anything seriously, can you?” he said, placing his hoof at the bottom of the scroll. “Here, as you can see from this excerpt, Keki-Feldora returned to the Queen and let her feed off what she had gathered. However, the feat strained her greatly, for her role was to fight with javelins and fangs, and not to transport love. Such is the story of Feldora, the Warrior who had to act as a Feeder so that her Queen could fight another day.”

“Ooh! That explains why she isn’t in the book,” Skallit said. “Although she chose the path of the Warrior, she was not remembered for being one, which is why the authors didn’t consider her a good, shall we say, role model for young drones wishing to join the Warrior Caste. Conversely, she couldn’t be invoked as a Feeder because she never was one.”

“Yes, but what happened to her?” I asked. “Such amount of love must have been intoxicating!”

Krennet rolled the scroll and put it back inside the cylinder. “I haven’t found anything about her fate, but if she hadn’t suddenly received the resilience of a Feeder, it is safe to assume her internal systems collapsed and she died soon after.”

Skallit looked up, biting his lower lip. “Hmm. A changeling who sacrificed herself for the good of the Queen. She was a hero.”

“Some would consider her a fool instead, revered be her name.”

“And how different is one from another? A fool is just a hero who didn’t get his statue yet.”

“Don’t get all poetic now, Lilo-Skallit!” Krennet said, fastening the cylinder to his back as he prepared for takeoff. “Now come, we need to discuss the recent events with the others. As for you, I suppose there’s no way I could convince you to leaving the Hall now, so just try not to break anything while we’re gone.”

I cleared my throat. “Actually, Lilo, I have a request.”

The Speaker sighed and folded his wings. “I know what you want to ask me for, Iqqel. Taking such drastic measures and choosing a role to which you have no natural predispositions was not only reckless and immature of you, but also illogical,” he said, then looked at me. “My only questions is: why?”

“I made a promise.”

“Is keeping one promise worth sacrificing your entire future?”

“If she had to sacrifice her future for us all, then it’s only fitting for us to sacrifice ours in kind,” I replied, not hesitating even a bit. “So, what do you say? Do you think you could maybe give me a quick training at the confessor business so I could present myself to the Queen as well?”

Krennet shook his head. “You’re asking for much, and you know it. No changeling as young as you has ever been taken for the service at the Hall of Names, yet alone recommended for the position of the royal advisor,” he said. “Given the unique circumstances, I am willing to consider your request, but I will need time.”

Just then, the Hall of Queens opened.

5 – The Future We Shape

The three of us ceased to move, blink, and flutter our wings, and instead stared at the wide open entrance to the Hall of Queens. When no one emerged from the darkness, only Krennet was conscious enough to remind us it didn’t hurt to breathe every now and then.

“Skallit, go get the others! Quickly!” he said. “Iqqel, don’t just stand there like a clustered pony! Make way for the Queen, she’ll be here any minute!”

We waited.

The minutes dragged but the Queen was not coming, which gave Skallit and the rest of the confessors just enough time to arrive and get rid of wrinkles marking their ceremonial robes. There was about twenty of them, males and females, all dressed in purple and gold, all glancing at the entrance with their violet eyes. Krennet was just talking to some more prominent Speakers when I realized I was the only one without the proper attire. Fortunately I wasn’t entirely unclothed since Skallit gave me a blindfold and told to fasten it around my hoof like a bracelet, with the seven rings facing front.

“Consider yourself a confessor intern,” he said.

I could not tell whether he was joking or not because Krennet rebuked us for talking too loud. As a matter of fact, the voices of everyone else brought together were a mere whisper compared to his barking, but no one dared to cut in his screed on what was fast-approaching. I had to admit he was a skilled wordsmith, because over the course of this entire time he kept pulling out new synonyms for defining the moment as important.

Somewhere between ‘imperative’ and ‘paramount’, we heard the steps resounding from the dark passage.

“Positions! Positions!” Krennet said, to which we formed a semicircle, with Krennet himself in the middle and me right next to Skallit at the end.

You could tell a lot about the newcomer by the pace at which she was approaching. The intervals between her steps were even and she never once stopped in her tracks, suggesting she was in excellent physical and psychological condition, yet she didn’t feel the need to exploit either to rush to the exit. The way her hooves kept hitting the stairs sounded like someone knowing exactly where she was heading and who would she meet at the end of her path. She already knew we waited for her, and she probably savored those last moments of keeping us in the dark, because we only had a hazy idea of who were we waiting for.

We stretched our right forelegs to the front and leaned into a bow, but where Krennet and others awaited their new Queen, I prepared myself to greet my friend as she would return from the Hall of Queens.

She never did.

The character who emerged from the shadowy corridor resembled the old Queen in her physique, still twice as tall as the average changeling, but at the same time she was different from her. She appeared much younger with her sleek, raven black carapace and shining fangs, and her captivating green eyes had nothing of the judging stare so innate to her predecessor. While the previous Queen had shades of deep blue in her short mane, this one had her mane long and cerulean which brought to mind a gossamer veil gently falling along her neck down to her back.

She was beautiful, regal, and imperious, but she bore no semblance to Cecily. I tried to recall the places in which she had holes in her legs and compared those against the look of the Queen, but my memory failed me. Not because I had forgotten, but because I never took notice of such a trivial thing.

Maybe I should have. Maybe then I’d know why my heart was beating so fast.

The Queen continued her unhurried walk. She maintained her posture which, however dignified didn’t strike me as the bearing of someone wanting to prove she was better than the rest of us. On the contrary, she seemed curious, and she took a few seconds to look at each and every one of us individually. I did not dare to look her in the eyes, I just couldn’t. I had a hard time believing just a few hours ago she used to be Cecily with whom I could spend my time.

When she lined up with me and the changeling at the other end of our group, Krennet walked towards her, his face almost sliding on the floor. Under different circumstances I would say it was fun to see him not acting all bossy and important in his own domain.

The Queen noticed his approach.

“Who are you, Speaker?”

That voice! It sounded like several entities talked at the same time, yet each slightly out of sync with one another. One of those strings tangled into the Queen’s speech belonged to Cecily, of that I had no doubt. I would recognize that gentle timbre anywhere, even though it lost its usual joyful note and was slightly deeper. I could hear her! A shiver of excitement traveled down my spine, then back again to my head where it suggested I should jump and hug this new Queen, this Cecily wrapped in a different body.

I exhaled. She said four words and my legs decided to go on strike. Way to go.

Krennet raised his head. “My name is Lilo-Krennet, a humble Speaker devoted to the Hall of Names. I was the one who was conducting your Ceremony when you were called to the Hall of Queens for your Metamorphosis,” he said. “First and foremost, it is my duty to ask: what is your name?”

“I am Chrysalis, the Ninety-ninth of that name,” the Queen replied. “As the rightful successor to the Swarm Throne of the mighty changeling Hive Chrysalis, I have come to provide for my subjects, watch over the clusters, and guide the Seven Castes through the ever-changing nature of our kin. May they all flourish, and may their dedication and prowess only grow in the years to come.”

I felt a new respect for Krennet. When I found myself dumbstruck with the fierceness and conviction of such an introduction, he remained composed enough to reply with a respectful bow and formed a more cohesive greeting than I would ever utter.

“Salutations, my Queen! In the name of your subjects I bid you welcome,” he said. “The clusters rejoice in your arrival, and the Seven Castes are eager to follow as you will lead us through the changes. May your reign be long and prosperous, Ninety-ninth Queen of Hive Chrysalis!”

Chrysalis nodded. “I lived through the lives of my predecessors and witnessed the things they had seen, but it is now time to turn our gaze towards the future,” she said. “To honor our ways, I will require a Speaker to announce my arrival to the Hive. Are the candidates ready, or will you be the one to herald it?”

An unpleasant sensation twisted my stomach. Standing before the Queen alongside older and much more experienced Speakers put me at a disadvantage, because statistically speaking at least some of them had a chance of proving a superior material for the royal advisor. Krennet said he needed time, which meant he wanted to talk my case with the others. He was the most important confessor around, but he wasn’t the only voice representing the Hall of Names.

To make things worse, Krennet was a formalist to the bone, and he probably told me he’d consider my request to make me feel better. That’s what a Speaker like him would do. Was he after the advisor job himself? I wanted to shake those dark thoughts off my head, but the logic behind them was sound, and I could not deny them. He was not going to recommend me, that was the sad truth. Even if he did, it didn’t mean the Queen was going to choose me over other candidates.

I regretted not having a backup plan for that. From here on now, I will have one for any contingency.

When Krennet finally spoke, I was on the verge of collapsing.

“My duty is to this place, my Queen,” he said. “However, there is someling I would like to recommend.”

At first I thought he pointed at me, but his hoof seemed to be stretched towards Skallit. That’s not terrible, I guess. Perhaps through him I will get my five minutes with the Queen, or at least I’ll drop him a list of all the things Cecily wanted to come true. I turned to the new royal advisor to congratulate him, but he spoke first.

“Go on,” he silently said. “Your Queen is waiting.”

“What?”

“The decision’s been made when you were out, but Krennet didn’t want to make you feel you’re getting your chance just because you asked for it.”

“What!”

“Will of the ancestors, Krennet’s good mood, the majority of votes. Pick one but just go already!”

Skallit gave me a slight kick in the rump, and my legs started working again. What was happening? Where was I? I must have spaced out because when I looked up there was Queen Chrysalis towering over me. She looked me in the eyes, and I lost myself in hers. I pursed my lips in anguish which pierced my heart like a burning javelin, knowing that my best companion did not recognize me, and that I could not recognize her no matter how hard I tried. I could see no warmth nor the spark of joy which I remembered all too well, but I had to admit I admired this new look of Cecily—no, not Cecily, but Queen Chrysalis. I better get used to it as soon as possible.

Chrysalis looked over my head. “Only one, Lilo-Krennet? I believed it was customary to offer me a choice,” she said, then turned back to me. “Do I know you?”

I glanced at Krennet who just shook his head slightly.

“I don’t think so, my Queen,” I replied. “My name is Lili-Iqqel of the Speaker Caste. I would like to offer my services to the Swarm Throne as your assistant or whoever else you shall require me to be.”

Chrysalis frowned. She cupped my chin in her hoof and moved my head to the sides, as if to evaluate me. She took notice of the purple and gold blindfold. “Hmm. You look young, but you do bear the symbols of the Hall of Names, and you are, as I can see, a Speaker,” she said. “The only question is, what makes you think you are the best candidate for this position?”

With no actual qualifications, untested advisory skills, no previous experience in the government sector whatsoever, but with a reference from Krennet and the support of at least some of the Speakers around me, I could do only one thing.

Flee.

“This will only take a second, my Queen,” I said, warming up my wings. “Well, more like thirty, the one has already passed. It’s just a figure of speech, you know, but it’s so imprecise if you ask me, which makes you wonder why we’re still using it, we should instead—my point is, don’t go anywhere!”

I flew up a couple of levels back to the cavity in which my first Ceremony of Names took place.

There!

My satchel was still here, placed at the pedestal of the reddish statue of Keki-Feldora. I finally understood why she was portrayed without a weapon or a banner, and looking upwards with serenity painted in her eyes. She was looking up to her Queen for whom she was ready to give her life. I thanked the ancestors I happened to live in the times of peace.

“Sorry, can’t stay right now,” I said. “Got to do what you did but with less, you know, dying.”

Twenty-eight seconds from breaking from the bottom of the Hall I was back by Queen Chrysalis. I noticed Skallit smiling, Krennet rolling his eyes, and the Queen herself tapping her hoof with impatience.

“So, you are back after all,” she said, frowning. “I find it strange for someling keen on becoming my advisor to keep me waiting. Would you care to explain what is this object you’ve brought?”

“My Queen, it took quite some time since you’ve entered the Hall of Queens,” I said, taking out a pony treat which lost only some of its shape, but hopefully none of its sweet taste. It certainly looked like it could fight off any hunger for one blissful moment, and I had to engage all my will to not devour it myself. Like Keki-Feldora before me, I intended to provide sustenance for my Queen. “Are you by any chance hungry?”

It occurred to me that I was betting it all on a blasted sweet roll. Krennet was right. I really was reckless.

Chrysalis giggled. Ancestors, what a wonderful sound that was! “Hah! You’re an intriguing one, I give you that,” she replied. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am starving. I wish my past form had eaten something prior to the Ceremony.”

You ate most of that picnic basket yourself, my Queen, but you wouldn’t remember that.

I knew I remembered it all.

I could remember the caring timbre of your voice when we first met at the nymphery. A careless drone just knocked over my tower—it felt like the end of the world at the time—but you told me not to worry, and that together we will build an even higher one. We quickly ran out of blocks, so we started coloring our carapaces much to the distress of our caretakers. Fun times.

I could remember the excited look in your eyes when we got assigned to Blackstone together. You said that with a lot of older mentors to befriend we would be like a large family. I did not know the meaning of the word back then, and many other words you kept picking from the Feeders, so you explained it was like having a group of changelings you cared about while they cared about you. We decided to care for each other, and you said that made us sisters. You said I was the best sister you could ever dream of.

I could remember the hesitation in your moves earlier tonight. First you were outraged at that drone’s attitude towards me, which wasn’t such a big deal, but you stood up for me nonetheless. You were then going to tell me something important, but when Skallit came we had to part. What was it going to be? Did you have something special planned for just the two of us after our Ceremonies? Were you thinking about me in ways I discovered I was thinking about you?

Chrysalis took a bite of the sweet roll. She chewed it for a moment, savoring every shade of sweetness the ponies applied to it. I swear, if she’s not going to like it I will find the confectioner who made it and drown him in molasses.

“This tastes… acceptable. You’re thinking ahead. I like that,” she said, swallowing the rest of the treat much to my relief. “Very well, then. Since there are no other candidates, I appoint you, Lili-Iqqel of the Speaker Caste, the First Advisor to the Swarm Throne and my personal assistant. I believe you are aware of your first duty for tonight?”

“Naturally, my Queen. I will be honored to announce your arrival.”

“Let us not keep my subjects waiting any longer,” Chrysalis replied, then allowed a slight smile to dance on her lips. “After you, Speaker.”

The semicircle of confessors broke into two rows and set a path for the Queen and I to follow. On one side I saw Skallit who looked like he was about to start waving his hooves in cheer, but Krennet kept his usual appearance of a pensive sage. He eased his frown only when our eyes met, and nodded appreciatively, for once without a trace of admonishing me for my behavior. If he believed I could make a good assistant for the Queen, then perhaps it was worth listening him for a change.

As I was leading the way under the luminite ceiling and up the steep stairs, I felt my eyes burning, but this time it was but a simple reaction of the body which I could overcome rather than a drastic change send by the ancestors. I inhaled deeply and refused the tears from wetting my cheeks any further. I straightened up, raised my head high, and followed the dark corridor towards the exit from the Hall of Names. The buzzing outside became more audible the closer we got to its source, a swarm of changelings of colorful eyes awaiting the one I preceded. When they saw me, the small Speaker as I headed towards the elevation from which the speeches of the confessors were given, they subdued their buzz. It was but a calm before the storm of cheering and applause which I knew would arise the moment I would introduce them to my friend, the Queen.

Cecily once told me about her ultimate dream. Her dream was to have us and the ponies living together, free of needless antagonism, with them visiting our Hive like tourists and us allowed to enter their cities without lies and subterfuge. It might take years for such a future to come true, but I was in no rush. She also shared a bunch of her minor dreams with me, so I could start with something simple, like establishing Cluster Whitefalls and setting up a school there. Cecily always liked the idea of schools more than our tried and true mentorship system, so perhaps it was worth investigating this pony concept further. For her.

Who knows? Perhaps one day our races will sign a treaty in recognition of each other’s worth and uniqueness. Myself, I need to find out if I’m as skilled at speaking as I am at thinking. I seem to have the ancestors backing my resolve, though, so if such is their will, I intend to serve my Queen with pride and treasure her precious dreams as my own.

Because I have a promise to keep.

Author's Note

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! :raritywink: