Warmth. A blanket of warmth and weightlessness was the first thing he felt. 1077 opened his eyes and everything was a greenish yellow. The liquid around him blurred his vision and made it difficult to see. He blinked and tried to clear his vision, yet he saw barely anything.

1077 did become acutely aware of the long black tube that ran down his throat. He felt how it connected to his lungs and breathed for him. He hated the feeling of his chest rising and lowering on its own accord. He felt ready to throw up. 1077 had always despised the medical devices employed by the Healers but he particularly hated the re-breather.

He moved his limbs through the thick sap-like liquid that surrounded him and pressed them against the green fleshy wall in front of him. 1077 grunted in pain as his muscles burned from the sudden movement and it prompted him to stop. His vision somewhat cleared from the pain and he looked around to discern where he was. Green translucent flesh surrounded him at all sides and he could just barely make out a sterile black chamber through the wall before him. 1077 could also see red figures that moved throughout the chamber in a quick and fluid motion.

He realized that they had taken him to the Healers in the Hive and placed him in a healing pod. 1077 relaxed and nestled his back against the fleshy structure. If he was back then that meant Lampyridae was safe. She had to be.

1077 observed the red figures for a moment before he tentatively moved his formerly injured back leg. To his surprise, he felt no pain, at least no pain from a wound. In fact, he noticed new shiny chitin along his leg. He would never cease to wonder at the skill of the Healers. 1077 rolled his shoulder as well and felt no complications from the arrow that had pierced it. He knew that wounds and blood loss as severe as his would have required days to heal, so how long had he been unconscious?

His calm moment of reflection was interrupted as the pod shook and suddenly drained itself of all liquid. 1077 fell to his haunches and shuddered from a cold chill as the pod unfurled and revealed the healing chambers. He looked around with unfamiliar eyes. His pod stood on a stone dais, elevated above a floor made from black granite. A drain was constructed around the dais that caught all liquid that he’d bathed in and he scrunched his snout at the distinct smells of the sterile room.

Some of the liquids used to make the healing gelly smelled akin to bleach and other chemicals that were common in Pony settlements. These smells filled every nook and crevice of the room. Though 1077 noticed a distinct lack of chemical smell from himself or the pod he’d just been in.

Only royal jelly lacked the smell. They hadn’t wasted such a precious healing agent on him, right?

1077 got up on shaky legs and grasped the tube in his mouth with a grunt. He pulled it out of his throat and gagged. He felt the smaller tubes in his lungs be pulled out with it and the feeling was nauseating, to say the least. Though he breathed a sigh of relief as the tube dislodged itself and he pulled it and the two connected tubes out of his mouth. 1077 simply let it fall onto the dais and he stretched. 1077’s muscles screamed in relief as he moved them for the first time in days, or what he at least assumed were days.

As he moved he noticed other pods to his left and right. In fact, he saw dozens of pods filled with unconscious changelings. Some pods were even grafted onto the black walls of the chamber, a process that was only done due to a lack of space.

“Where are you, Dragonfly?” 1077 mumbled under his breath and his eyes swept over the pods.

That was when one of the Healers approached his dais with quick steps. The Healers were different from all other changelings. The ones that served in the healing chambers were exclusively female and they were draped in a simple red cloth to denominate their station. They also held no elytra or wings, but rather spider-like limbs that ordinarily lay folded against their back. Furthermore, their heads were crowned by a black disc that served as their horns and long red manes. Moreover, they held blood-red eyes that were said to be able to see through changeling chitin and pony flesh.

The Healers also carried themselves with regal authority, control, and grace, even as broodlings. Gnat and Louse had nicknamed them ‘the faceless’ due to their seeming lack of emotions and similar appearance. A cruel nickname, but one that carried some truth. It was very hard to differentiate between Healers unless one knew them personally.

And 1077 had made sure he visited the healing chambers as little as possible as a broodling. The Healer has scared him. In fact, they still scared him as he could not keep his eyes off the other Healers just to make sure they did not come close.

“My apologies, honored Warrior, I was busy with another patient. I will first make sure there were no complications with the healing process and then I will take you to the washroom so you may clean yourself,” the Healer said with a monotone tone.

1077 noted the lack of emotion in her voice. It echoed eerily in the chamber and he could not help but feel as if there was no soul behind her eyes. Her blank stare was just like the Healer broodlings he’d met when he was young. She was beautiful and slim, but her beauty awoke no desire or reverence, only a chill down his spine and an urgent sense to flee. Her beauty was that of a beautiful corpse. Maybe serene and pretty, but still dead.

“Do what you must, Healer,” he eventually complied and got down from the stone dais so he stood before her.

The Healer nodded and unfurled the extra limbs on her back. She had six spider-like arms and each ended in three small claws. Without moving the rest of her body or even blinking she examined his wounds. Her clawed arms would press and prod at his shoulder. She scratched on his new chitin to check its strength and she even grabbed his front leg and moved it back and forth to see his shoulder’s mobility. Eventually, she moved on to his back leg and performed the same tests. 1077 could only try to keep a neutral expression on his face as she stared right at him.

“I am fine,” he reassure her and swallowed in discomfort.

“That remains to be seen. Trot around the room,” she commanded.

1077 complied and walked back and forth. Other Healers observed him as he walked with the same critical eye as his Healer and they all shared looks as if they could diagnose him without needing to speak a single word. His muscles did burn as he walked, but he refused to show pain in front of them. If they suspected anything was wrong they could immediately send him back to a pod.

As 1077 returned to his assigned Healer she would prod his shoulder and leg again. He hissed as she applied more pressure to the former wounds and her eyes took on a red glow. She stared at his limbs for a second before she nodded and let go of his leg and shoulder. She furled her arms against her back and lit her disc-like horn. A parchment floated over to them from a shelf on one of the walls and she gave it to him.

“Your chitin has hardened and holds resistance against my claws. You showed signs of pain but that is in relation to inactivity and the healing jelly, not the wounds. You are well enough to leave. On this parchment is a detailed report on your injuries and treatment. A copy has been sent to the Central Spire for future treatments should complications arise. Your report may be used in the training of new Healers due to the rarity of your case,” she said.

1077 gave her a bemused smile. “I was wounded by arrows, Healer. That is hardly rare.”

“You had one hundred and sixteen chitin shards in your body and severe blood loss due to the extensive damage these did to your muscles and flesh. The arrows were designed to break chitin and cut deep. Some Archivists have claimed your survival is a case of divine intervention by the Seamstress.”

He looked at her in shock and touched his shoulder. “I was that far gone?...”

“I estimated your chance at survival to be about fifteen percent. Senior Healer Wockia had similar conclusions. Not as bad as some other cases, but still notable,” the Healer said, her voice still monotone.

Even when seemingly interested she still spoke as if she was dead inside. 1077 could not help but shudder. “Well, thank you for saving my life. And I must give thanks to the other Healers as well.”

“They are busy with an overflux of patients and have no time for conversations. You may thank them at a later date or in writing. The healing chambers appreciate letters of gratitude,” she replied with a blank stare.

“Erm, yes of course. May I ask for your name then so I may thank you properly?” he asked.

She tilted her head at him, a forty-five-degree tilt, and blinked. “Healer 4263.”

“Ah, apologies. I thought all Healers were given a name upon completing their studies,” 1077 said with a bow of his head.

“Names are markers of merit and skill within one’s caste. They can only be given with the approval of a senior and the Central Spire. To assume such honorable markers would be given freely for merely completing one’s duty to the Hive is insulting,” 4263 deadpanned, if a monotone deadpan was a thing.

“I forget myself, I’m sorry. I should not assume all Healers have earned a name. But at least we’re both new-brood, we can expect to earn a name soon,” 1077 smiled.

“Terms such as ‘old-brood’ and ‘new-brood’ is highly discouraged by her majesty the queen and the Central Spire. It spreads dissension and seeds conflict between groups. All changelings are part of the Hive and any notion of self-serving or individual groups separate from the castes must be eliminated. While such notions may aid the armed forces of the Hive with cohesion they will not be accepted inside the Halls of Healing. If you spread dissenting thoughts I must submit an official inquiry to the Central Spire.”

“There is no need, Healer 4263. I apologize for using such language. It must be the effect of the jelly, it addles the mind,” he said with a strained smile.

Never again would he try to be friendly to a Healer. It was pointless.

4263 just stared at him. “Royal jelly is noted for giving the patient good dreams, not for affecting their minds poorly. Lying to a Healer is also discouraged by the Central Spire. Please refrain from doing so.”

“Of course, I apologize for offending the Spire and law. Just let me wash and I will leave,” 1077 said with a frustrated exhale. Though he kept his fake smile. “Though I must ask, you used royal jelly to heal me?”

“The princess requested such and the queen authorized it. It greatly sped up your healing and recovery. I must recommend you do not get injured in the coming weeks considering the expense it took to save your life. Royal jelly should be reserved for praetorians and the royal family. I personally informed the senior Healer Wockia that I found its use on you a waste, but the queen ordered it and so it must have been necessary.”

1077 started to remember more and more why he disliked Healer. “Well, I thank you for your honesty, Healer 4263. May I now wash?”

“Follow me,” 4263 said and led him through the doors into another chamber much larger than the first.

1077 looked around the chamber as they entered and he saw a myriad of healing pods on daises and grafted against the black chitin-like walls. He even noticed some pods in the ceiling. The Warrior also noticed cots that were laid out across the floor for less injured changelings. Pods could only be spared for those that needed them the most.

1077 knew that the main chamber ordinarily served as an operating theatre and examination hall, and he did see several tables with small water-filled wooden tubs next to them. Pieces of cloth covered in green blood hung from the side of the tubs and they miscolored the water. He could not help but wonder if the blood was his or Dragonfly’s, but he knew better. They were meticulous with sanitation, and that blood was fresh.

The chamber was also filled with several Healers that hurried around the room. Some checked pods, others spoke with changelings that were laid out on the cots, and some led Healer broodlings around to show them treatments and wounds. All of them looked similar to 4263 and all of them held the same blank stare and monotone voice. Not even the broodlings showed hints of boredom or agitation. They stood perfectly still before their seniors and listened to every word they said with unwavering focus and obedience.

Healers were some of the most important members of the Hive and 1077 held great respect for their vital function and skill. But they were strange and unnatural.

1077 tried to shake off his discomfort and he surveyed the chamber for any sign of Dragonfly or any other ling’ from the expedition, but he could not make out much through the murky liquid-filled pods. “Is Warrior Dragonfly here, Healer 4263?”

“The Warrior you seek left a week ago. His wounds were minor in comparison to yours, Warrior 1077. Furthermore, your extensive blood loss meant you required many more days in the pod than usual,” the Healer said in the same monotone voice as before. “Not to speak of the operation to remove all chitin shards from your body.”

1077 looked at her in discomfort. “How long did it take to operate on me?”

“Six hours. It was a difficult operation considering the number of shards and the fact you had flown for hours. You should thank Princess Lampyridae for prioritizing you over other patients or you would have perished.”

“I see… Well, I thank you again for saving my life. I am in your debt,” he said with a bow of his head.

She let out an amused scoff, the first hint of emotion since she began to speak. “It is my duty to aid you, you owe me nothing. But you are in debt to the princess and the queen. As stated before, Queen Chrysalis authorized us to use pure love to make royal jelly. Without the royal jelly, you would have remained here for another week at least.”

“The damage was that bad?...”

“Your muscles were torn to shreds. The fact you did not die from blood loss during the flight or transportation to the Hive is a miracle. Some say the princess saved you,” the Healer replied as they reached a white wooden door.

The Healer would lead him into a pristine white chamber with iron pipes running all over the walls and nozzles hung from the ceiling. It was one of the few pony inventions the Hive made use of, showers. 1077 cleaned himself off and the Healer examined his leg and shoulder one more time just to be safe. 1077 noted that the chitin along his shoulder and leg seemed much darker than on the rest of his body. Had his chitin faded with age?

“Senior Warrior Ita is waiting for you outside the chambers. He will take you to the throne room where you may report to Queen Chrysalis regarding the incident,” 4263 told him.

1077 gained an anxious look at the mention of the senior Warrior but he nodded in compliance. “Of course.”

Once again the Healer would lead him to a set of doors, but this time they were red in color and much larger than before. In fact, the two doors almost touched the ceiling. They swung open without touching them and revealed the black tunnels outside. Hardened green secretion covered much of the round structures to hold up the weight of the ceiling and all of it looked smooth and clinical. Not a meter had been dug in vain or a single drop of secretion wasted. All tunnels were perfect and they always filled 1077 with a sense of safety. The tunnel network could only be navigated by a changeling and as such, they were the perfect defense against outsiders.

Though he supposed outsiders were no longer their primary concern.

An older male changeling Warrior waited for them on the other side. The older male wore a determined frown and he nodded at the Healer in thanks before he walked down the corridor to his right.

“Seamstress bless your path, 4263,” 1077 said and hurried after the other Warrior.

The two would walk in silence through the maze-like tunnels and chambers that made up the eastern block of the Hive. Patrols passed them by every few minutes and in every chamber Workers labored hard with fortifications and security measures such as gatehouses by every tunnel entrance and exit. 1077 would glance at Ita now and again as they walked, mostly to admire the purple armor and helmet that crowned his head.

“Father,” 1077 eventually said, both as a greeting and statement.

Ita gave him a quick and stern look before he focused his eyes forward. “1077.”

1077 covered under Ita’s harsh gaze. “Tell me, is the princess unharmed?”

“She is.”

“And the attackers?”

“Yet to be found.”

1077 nodded and eyed the activity around them as they walked. Several more patrols of Warriors passed them and Workers dug new tunnels. “Do we know who they were?”

Ita sighed and shocked his head.

“Would it kill you to speak more than three words to me, father?” 1077 asked in annoyance.

“If you wish for small talk then find a mate already. Or better yet find your charge after the queen has questioned you. The princess fed you, believe this, pure love as they transported you to the Hive to keep you alive. If there is anyone that you should speak to it is her so that you may show her gratitude for keeping you alive,” Ita said curtly.

“She gave up the love she extracted during the exam?” 1077 asked with wide eyes.

Ita gave him a nod.

“But she needed to present it to the queen as well—”

“She wished to save your life. Accept that and move on. You do not question the decisions of the princess or the queen. Are we clear, Warrior 1077?”

He gave Ita an uncertain nod. “Of course.”

"You should be more focused on aiding the Hive than why you were saved. I assume you saw how crowded the Halls of Healing were? Your group was not the only one attacked. Several senior Warriors were injured and killed in our encampments in the west. We lost a whole class of broodling Scouts as well... We are lucky you reached Fort Cicada or it would have taken hours for any news to reach the Hive. Lives were saved thanks to your efforts. Now we must ensure the safety of the rest," Ita said gruffly.

1077 saluted him. "I will protect the Hive, father."

"I know you will."

The two of them eventually reached an elevator that would take them up to the ground level. The Halls of Healing were located underground for the safety of the patients and Healers. They had even been built underneath a large layer of rock to make it hard to dig down to them from above. It served safety well, but it did mean elevators were needed all over the level. The machinery was impressive with the metal chains and wheels that spun to make it move. Yet another outsider invention made to fit their society.

“I will lead you to the throne room, but I can not stay and watch. I must meet with Warrior Alyina,” Ita said as they boarded the elevator and pulled a level.

As the elevator rose it shook and groan. The journey upwards was slow and 1077 eyed Ita wearily. “And how is mother?”

“Worried. For you and for the royal family. This is unprecedented, do you understand? Never have we faced treachery of this kind. Singular traitors or pony-lovers are common among the Infiltrators, but hundreds? And not only were they numerous, not only did they attack several different groups at once, but they knew how to handle weaponry. Yet they were not all Warriors. Your friend Dragonfly reported that he saw Workers, as well as Infiltrators, attacking you. Workers have no weapon training and Infiltrators are not trained like us.”

1077 swallowed thickly. “If they have Infiltrators then they could subsume the position of a high-ranking official.”

“Which is why you need this,” Ita said and pulled out a metal badge from his armor.

The badge was blank and attached to a chain. 1077 grabbed it with a levitation spell and hung it around his neck. He eyed the blank piece of metal with confusion and then looked at Ita.

“They will engrave a unique string of numbers to your badge as well as your name. Because you have yet to receive your name it remains blank. It will not be blank after your meeting with the queen,” Ita said and observed him as if to garner his reaction.

1077’s eyes widened. He felt like his heart would beat its way out of his chest. Was his mouth open in shock? He composed himself somewhat before he spoke. “Will I receive a name today, father?”

“Be proud, son. You have earned it,” Ita said as the elevator stopped.

The two exited the elevator and 1077 looked around in surprise and the level of activity in the main square. The open area surrounded the Hive spires at all sides and connected to a dozen tunnels and elevators that led all over the Hive. While the square was ordinarily busy it was not normally occupied by hundreds of Warriors and dozens of Praetorians. Ita looked at the sight sadly and shook his head.

“The attack has created much insecurity and fear. We no longer know who is a friend or foe. You will keep the princess safe during this time, do you understand? We can not afford to lose royal blood to traitors,” Ita said sternly and looked at him with a glare.

1077 saluted. “I will guard her with my life.”

“I know. But you must go well beyond that. Suspect all, give in to none. Unless the queen herself orders you to do something you stick to the princess side at all times. You guard her when she sleeps and when she is awake. Your rest is trivial next to hers. There are others that can perform your duties should you fail. Do not disappoint me.”

1077 glared at him with a determined look. “I never have.”

Ita gave him a single nod and led him toward the Central Spire. The large towering black structure pierced the domed ceiling that surrounded the square at all times and it dwarfed the lesser spires next to it. The smaller spires served as study halls or storage facilities. The Central Spire was home to the throne room, archives, and of the Hall of Echoes. It was from the Central Spire decisions were made and the bureaucracy ran their business. It was in the Central Spire where every changeling has a record of their merit as well as their deviant behavior. Blessed by the Seamstress, held together by the queen’s divine right to rule, and functional thanks to the Archivists, the Central Spire was a marvel.

Yet it was the structure in front of the Central Spire that attracted most devout changelings. The black chitin-like structure reminded 1077 of a giant gazebo and several changelings prayed around it. Lit red candles were placed all over the floor of the structure and in the middle of it was a large piece of stone with dozens of names and numbers carved into it. Each name was written in gold, each a savior of the Hive or a royal changeling long gone. The Shrine of the Lost did not tower over them like the Spires, and yet it still felt so far above them that it might as well have levitated.

1077 always prayed when he saw it. Today was no different as he bowed his head and prayed.

Ita eyed his religious fanaticism with annoyance and nodded toward the spire. “You can thank the Seamstress and honor the dead after the queen is done with you. We have no time.”

1077 shot Ita a dirty look, but he complied and followed Ita past the shrine and up the stairs to the main entrance of the Central Spire.

Then began the tricky navigation of finding the throne room. 1077 could easily find Lampyridae’s bedroom and the archives, but the throne room was elusive even to him. Ita however had no issues moving between tunnel after tunnel as they pushed further down and further into the Central Spire. They passed multiple rooms filled with Archivists sorting through parchments and discussing important business in the Hive.

The long and sleek Archivists were always captivating to 1077. With their long manes and horns, they reminded him of the queen but their eyes held far less cunning than that of Queen Chrysalis. Archivists could memorize anything and they processed information far faster than any other changeling, but much like the Healers they were strange. Unlike the Healers they held emotions, but they were far more cryptic or hard to understand. They spoke with fancy words or with statistics that held no meaning to 1077. They could teach any subject in theory but could rarely perform what they taught.

“Come along,” Ita said with a huff.

1077 shook off the strange feelings he got from seeing the Archivists and continued into the spire.

Eventually, they reached a part of the spire that was quiet. The air felt tense and dangerous and 1077 could swear the tunnel walls vibrated. Ita grew tenser as they approached their destination until they finally emerged in a large open chamber. At the far end of the chamber was a large black throne and upon it sat the ruler of the Hive, Queen Chrysalis.

The changeling queen was a large creature. She towered above even the most powerful Praetorian and she dwarfed Lampyridae and princess Ovin. Her dark mane held a blue and green color which seemed to blend her into the shadows. Her dark body was also sleek like the Archivists, but unlike them, she held strength well above even the Praetorians. And her eyes held such a calculating edge it sent shivers down 1077’s spine. Though the most shocking thing was the golden badge around her neck. Not even the queen could escape the safety procedures.

Ita turned around and gave him an encouraging nod before he returned the way they’d come from. 1077 was left by the entrance and he swallowed nervously. It was an honor to be summoned by the queen, but it rattled one’s nerves. Even from across the room, 1077 could feel her oppressive gaze. He slowly walked into the throne room and up to the throne. The large chamber felt so empty. No guards, no advisors, just the queen.

“Warrior 1077,” Chrysalis said and leaned forward. “You saved my heir from traitors, for this, I must thank you. Give me your recollection of what happened during the attack.”

He looked up at her in surprise at her gratitude and bowed his head in respect. “You honor me, my queen. I shall tell you everything that I remember.”

1077 tried to as objectively as possible go over what had happened in the pass and what the attackers had looked like. Different kinds of changelings dressed in white robes. He recalled that he had seen Warriors, Infiltrators, and Workers on the walls. Though he had recognized none of them. Many had worn white cloaks close around their head, obscuring their faces. But their builds had revealed what they were.

The queen remained composed and neutral throughout his report, though she never lost the edge she held in her gaze. Eventually, she nodded at him to stop. “Thank you, 1077. Now on to the other matter at hand... You see, my daughter had the audacity to demand a name for you due to the incident. She even had the gall to come up with a name herself, circumventing both me and the Central Spire.”

He swallowed thickly at that and bowed even lower. “I am certain she meant no disrespect, your majesty. I will earn my name when I am ready.”

“You know my Lampyridae better than most of her servants. You know she did indeed mean to be disrespectful because that is in her nature. But that doesn’t mean she was wrong,” Chrysalis said with a glint in her eyes. “Rise and salute, 1077.”

He stood up and straightened his back before he saluted as commanded. He met the queen’s gaze and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He felt like his ears were clogged by barotrauma and he was not certain he could hide his fast heartbeats, but he tried his best for the queen’s sake.

“Princess Lampyridae, you may enter,” Chrysalis said.

A pink blur sprinted out from one of the tunnels and stopped in front of him. Lampyridae looked at him with wide eyes and her lip trembled. He gave her a small smile and nodded at her. She raised her front leg as if to hug him but stopped and she cleared her throat to compose herself. Archivists joined them as well, one who grabbed the metal badge around his neck and another who held a stone tablet.

“Warrior 1077, please bow your head,” Lampyridae began.

He bowed his head as instructed.

“Through valor of battle and at the cost of your own safety you defended me and the Hive from traitors and aggressors. You have shown dedication and strength of will to protect the Hive and all that it stands for. Through your actions, you have strengthened our resolve, and that must be rewarded.”

The Archivist with the stone tablet quickly and relatively quietly engraved Lampyridae’s words onto the tablet as she spoke. The other Archivist began to add a string of numbers to the badge. Queen Chrysalis watched them with scrutinizing eyes.

“Warrior 1077, from this day onward you will no longer be just a number. You will carry a name as your actions have been rewarded. From this day onward you will be Tibia, guard of my person and protector of the Hive. Rise, Tibia.”

Tibia stood up with a wide smile. He felt like he soared across the ground. And as he saw the proud tearful look of Lampyridae he felt he needed to renew his oath. “I swear to the Seamstress and the Hive, to the ground and the sky, that I will defend Princess Lampyridae with my life. Henceforth I will never leave her side until the threat is vanquished and I will destroy all traitors that wish her harm.”

Queen Chrysalis eyed them for a second before she scoffed. “Good. Now leave, I must see to other matters. The Praetorians never cease with questions.”

The Archivists finished their work. The Archivist with the stone tablet hurried down one tunnel while another hung the badge around Tibia’s neck before he too sprinted down another tunnel. Tibia picked up the badge with his magic and saw his name in bold letters written across the badge along with his number, 1077, and a long string of unrelated numbers. He was Tibia now, not 1077.

“Come,” Lampyridae whispered and dragged him out of the throneroom as Praetorians entered from tunnels in all directions.

Tibia noted with mild shock how a few of the Praetorians bowed their heads in respect to him as he passed.

Eventually, Lampyridae dragged them away from the throne room and she turned around and hugged him. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and sniffled. Tibia wrapped a forearm around her and placed his chin on top of her head.

“I thought you would die,” she hoarsely whispered, on the verge of tears.

Tibia squeezed her close. “I will never leave you, Firefly. I will honor my promise and I will keep you safe. You saved me, and I will repay that debt.”

The princess sobbed into his shoulder and he rocked her back and forth. He was finally home, he was where he belonged. For a second he could forget the Seamstress’ words, the queen’s righteous anger, and the castes, and held Lampyridae as she cried in relief.

Tibia would never let any harm come to her. He would die before that happened. He could never be with her, not if he did what was best for the Hive. But he could be there for her, and it was with a sorrowful smile he realized that he loved her. He stroked her mane and promised himself that until his dying breath, he would protect her life and honor.

For that is who he was. Tibia, guardian of Princess Lampyridae.

Author's Note

A lot of worldbuilding in this chapter, but it was the first look at the Hive. Don't worry we'll see a lot more of it and how it works as the flashback chapters progress. I hope you all have a good day now!