"Move! That way!" Thorne's voice cut through the smoke, cracked and hoarse but loud enough to send boots moving. Ash clung to the sky. Not clouds. Not dust. Smoke. Thick and clinging, colored with ash and gunpowder. The wind carried the smell of burned flesh and something fouler beneath it—something wrong. The air tasted like copper and rot. Asher stumbled after Ryvak, the two of them weaving through the half-ruined perimeter. He didn't know where they were going, only that behind him had become a death pit. Drones weren't falling back anymore. They were surrounding. Cutting off exits. Herding them. Beth appeared from the haze. Her mouth was set. Eyes hard. She pointed toward the far cliffside. "The cave. Now." The survivors moved in broken clusters. Twelve left. Maybe. Asher didn't recognize most of their faces anymore. Just streaks of soot and blood.
Each step toward the cliffs felt heavier. Like something pulling against them. The sand turned black the closer they got. Charred glass crunched underfoot. The temperature dropped. The wind howled through gaps in the rocks, carrying a sound that wasn't quite a scream. But it wasn't wind either. The cave was straight ahead. Thorne reached it first, rifle scanning side to side. No movement. Just a narrow slit carved into the rock, breathing heat and shadow. A natural formation, maybe. But it looked too clean. Too deliberate. Beth didn't wait. She passed Thorne, slipping into the dark without hesitation. Ryvak stopped just short. "This is stupid." Thorne growled, "You have another route, let me know." Ryvak didn't answer. Asher stepped up last. The Stone throbbed. Not pain. Pressure. He paused at the edge. The stone walls shimmered faintly, covered in sigils half-buried beneath soot and moss. No one else saw them. Only him.
He stepped forward. The air changed. It thickened. Pressed. Like walking underwater. The light disappeared almost instantly. Beth clicked her flashlight on. The beam was narrow, weak. The walls pulsed faintly with black veins—not vines. Veins. The cave was partially alive. As if a parasite had embedded itself deep in the foundations of the walls and slowly started seeping out. Breathing. Watching. No one spoke. They moved in single file. Thorne took point. Beth watched the rear. Asher walked near the middle, one hand trailing the wall, the other tight around a borrowed knife. They walked for an hour. No sign of the Queen. No sign of drones. But the deeper they went, the more Asher felt it. Not presence. Pressure. Something about the layout felt wrong. Too symmetrical. Too purposeful. Like it wasn't carved by nature—but by something that had planned their arrival. Asher's footsteps slowed. Something twisted in his stomach. Not fear. Not pain. A vague sense of being watched. Beth whispered beside him, "You okay?" He hesitated. Then nodded. "Yeah. Just have a weird feeling." Thorne didn't stop walking. "Less talking. More moving."
The tunnel narrowed. They reached a split. One path curved up. Another down. Beth turned to Thorne. "Which way?" He didn't hesitate. "Down." Ryvak grunted. "Of course it's down." Thorne gave Ryvak a stern look. "If we die, we die fighting for the human race. Even better now that we have a chance to take the Hive Queen with us." Ryvak nodded solemnly—not agreement. Just reluctant acceptance. The walls bled warmth. Liquid dripped from cracks. Steam hissed from vents. The ground pulsed faintly beneath their feet. Then they found the first body. Half-fused to the wall. Human. Or something that used to be. The skin was pale. Translucent. Veins black. Eyes empty sockets. Beth crouched beside it. "Still warm." Asher turned away. His stomach twisted. This wasn't just a Hive. It was an ancient parasite that fed off the land. They were deep in the infestation now. Whatever lived here, it wasn't done growing. Ryvak breathed, "What is this place?" Asher didn't answer. Because he didn't know. Not truly. But the Stone kept pulsing, steady and slow. Like it was bracing. His spine burned. A flash. Not a vision. A sensation. Like the Stone remembered the presence of the beings that lived here. A past moment etched in bone and heat. But no images. Just dread. He staggered. Beth caught his elbow.
The path turned again. Opened wider. The walls were covered in sacks now. Hanging. Pulsing. Some moved. Some wept fluid. Some twitched. Ryvak gagged. Another soldier slipped. Fell into one of the sacks. It burst. Screams. Not from them. From inside the sack. The thing inside tore free. Half-formed. A larva. It latched onto the fallen soldier's throat. Beth fired once. The thing dropped. The soldier didn't move again. Thorne didn't stop. "Keep going. Move. Now." Asher followed. But the Stone burned hotter. It wasn't warning him anymore. It was bracing him. They reached a chamber. Massive. Circular. The ceiling lost in darkness. And at the center—A throne. Made of bone. Carapace. Twitching meat. Empty. But not for long. Asher dropped to one knee. Not in prayer. Not in pain. The Stone was dragging something to the surface. Not a memory. A symbol. His hand reached for it. Beth grabbed him. "Don't." He looked at her. "I have to." She didn't argue. He touched the glyph. White. His ears rang. Not a name. Not this time. Just a question. A single word echoed in his head: "Why?" He blinked. And then darkness again. Behind them—Footsteps. Not drones. Something heavier.
The Queen had returned. And she knew they were here. Asher rose slowly. Thorne raised his weapon. Beth locked eyes with Asher. He whispered, "You feel that?" She nodded. But in the dark, something else stirred. A second echo rang through the Stone. Not from the Queen. Something older. Something deeper. Asher felt the pressure crawl up his spine like a second heartbeat. He looked toward the far end of the chamber, where the black veins thickened into a shape—barely formed, not quite alive. He took one step back. "What is going on?"