The first strike did not come with claws or teeth. It arrived inside their heads.
Buzz felt it as a weight behind his eyes, pressing until even memory seemed to shift. The forest bent out of shape, trees folding in on themselves like broken wings. His legs shook as he tried to hold his ground.
He turned toward Zza, but her face was wrong. For an instant she wore the Queen's expression, eyes too bright, mouth curling into that empty smile he hated.
Her voice slipped between tones. "You could stop crawling. You could rest."
Buzz clenched his jaw until pain cut through the haze. Zza's real face broke through, strained but her own, her mandibles moving in quick whispers. "It isn't me. Don't look too hard."
The others fared worse. The Scarabs pounded their drums in panic, rhythm splintering into wild noise. One of them turned on another, claws striking shell as if kin had turned into prey.
