Adam dragged the sled, each tug rattling his devastated carapace as the crystals, wrapped tightly in his webbing, clacked together like brittle bones. The sound echoed far too loud in the tunnels, reminding him of shackles dragging against stone. He couldn't risk returning through the muddy chute he had fallen from, not with the spider still lurking in those depths. So, he pressed forward, antennae twitching in the stale air, sending out brief Tremor Pulses that rippled ahead like invisible feelers. Each scan came back with faint outlines of stone, hollow pockets, and twisting corridors.
But safe routes were few, and each was crowded with risk. His only option was the one that tore at his body the most... digging.
Thus, he began. Mandibles scraped at the dirt, legs pushing clumps behind him. It was a slow, gruesome process. The sled was dragged behind him, the crystals inside shifting and knocking together with every jolt, sounding like jolly bells on a Christmas eve. Each echo set his nerves on edge. What if the spider heard? What if something else answered?
The soil was damp, clinging to his mandibles and legs, coating him in grit as he carved his way forward. Hours blurred into instinct: bite, pull, push, repeat. The crystals became an anchor in the dark, their clicking a steady reminder of why he couldn't stop.
Finally, the dirt ahead softened, and with a final push he opened into a wider tunnel.
Adam froze.
It was the very chamber of his defeat. His legs trembled at the memory of piercing fangs, of suffocating webbing, of that monstrous presence descending upon him. Slowly, his gaze lifted to the ceiling, and his heart nearly ripped free of his chest.
The spider was there.
Perfectly still, perfectly camouflaged, its chitinous body blended seamlessly into the jagged stone. Only the faint shimmer of its eyes betrayed it. Watching. Waiting.
Adam didn't move, didn't breathe. His body screamed to flee, but instead he whispered under his breath, so low it was only for himself:
"I will get you sooner or later."
He tore his gaze away, mandibles set and began digging once more, moving parallel so he wouldn't have to pass directly beneath that nightmare. Each scrape of soil felt deafening, but the spider didn't stir. Waiting in the shadows for a prey to pass by beneath him.
At last, he reached the familiar well leading downward. He descended, sled in tow, and after what felt like an eternity, the scent of the colony hit him.
He hurried through the tunnels, dragging his prize toward the chamber he had set aside.
The ants lay scattered across the ground, their limbs twitching weakly, antennae flailing as they writhed in their hallucinations. Some kicked at shadows only they could see, others lay curled in silence, too far gone even to move. Their once-sharp coordination, the lifeblood of the colony, had collapsed into chaos.
Adam's chest tightened.
Without hesitation, he clutched one of the crystals and cracked it against the stone. It splintered, releasing a cloud of pink mist that swirled through the chamber, faintly sweet and oddly warm.
The ants coughed, legs twitching as the haze enveloped them. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, their movements began to steady. The wild spasms dulled. Their antennae no longer thrashed at phantoms, but steadied, tasting the air with tentative curiosity. One by one, they began to awaken, their trembling lessening as clarity seeped back into their compound eyes.
Adam exhaled, legs trembling beneath him. They were all safe within these walls, but for how long.
....
Mira stirred.
Her body felt heavy, as though weighed down by invisible chains. At first there was only a haze, a blur of shadows and colors dancing behind her compound eyes. Slowly, her vision sharpened. She blinked, disoriented, finding herself in a wide chamber filled with the faint pink mist that lingered in the air. Around her, dozens of her kin lay sprawled across the ground, stirring, twitching, coughing weakly.
Confusion wrapped her like a shroud.
"Wasn't I… in the colony's center? We were celebrating. We were—"
Her thoughts stumbled, fractured, like a broken string of pearls rolling away.
Then her antennae twitched.
Someone was watching her.
Her gaze snapped forward—and her heart froze.
There he was. The Giant. His figure loomed at the far side of the chamber, eyes blazing with an intensity that felt like it could strip her bare. His body was ragged with dirt, webbing still clinging to his limbs, but his stare… his stare cut deeper than any predator's fangs.
Mira's breath caught. A whimper escaped her mandibles before she could stop it.
"Mira. What had happened?" The words were low, heavy, carrying both demand and disappointment. The air around him seemed to hum with restrained fury.
Mira's body shook. Her mandibles clattered uncontrollably, chittering like broken instruments. She tried to shrink back into the ground itself, wishing she could vanish, but his gaze pinned her in place.
"I–It was… it was supposed to be a surprise," she stammered, her voice a whisper, legs curling beneath her in shame. "We thought… we thought you would be proud. We only wanted to—"
Her words faltered as guilt gnawed through her chest.
Around her, others began to stir fully awake. Zell, Brill, Skitt, Nokk—their forms twitched as they pushed themselves upright, compound eyes wide and still fogged with confusion. But as they saw Adam standing there, towering over Mira, they understood.
And terror flooded them.
"No! It wasn't just Mira!" Brill cried, mandibles clicking in a frantic clatter. "We all agreed! Please, don't hurt her!"
"She only wanted to make it special!" Zell added, scuttling forward shakily, her antennae trembling. "It was our idea too! Please, forgive her!"
One by one, they pleaded, their small bodies trembling as they surrounded Mira, pressing against her protectively as if their meager frames could shield her from Adam's wrath.
Adam's eyes narrowed. His silence was a blade hanging above them all. Mira felt her insides twist, certain the blade would fall.
Then, at last, he exhaled.
"I forgive you."
The words rolled through the chamber, heavy with both relief and dread.
"But listen to me carefully." His voice deepened, firm and unwavering. "This world will not forgive your mistakes. Not the predators that lurk in the shadows. Not the dangers waiting beyond these tunnels. If you act without my permission again, if you throw yourselves into danger without thought… you won't just hurt yourselves. You'll doom us all."
The ants froze. His words struck like cold stone. Their trembling bodies pressed closer to him instinctively, antennae quivering in fear. Then, slowly, hesitantly—they reached out. Hugging his legs, clinging to him as though he were the only solid ground in a collapsing world.
"W-We promise…" Mira whispered, voice raw, pressed against his side. "We'll never act without you again."
"Never," Zell echoed.
The others joined, their fragile voices overlapping in desperate unison.
Adam stood silent for a long moment, staring down at the tiny bodies clinging to him. Their fear pressed against him, their warmth seeping into his shell. At last, he let out a long, tired sigh.
"...Fine," he muttered. His tone softened, though his eyes remained stern. "But don't forget this. Ever."
He lowered his body slightly, letting his antennae brush against theirs, a small gesture of reassurance. Their trembling lessened, if only a little.
In that moment, Adam realized—these fragile creatures weren't ant soldiers. They were just children. And no matter how heavy the burden, he had no choice but to comfort them.