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The battlefield churned with chaos, but the Queen's gaze did not wander. Her eyes locked on Buzz and Zza as if the rest of the army no longer mattered. Drones hurled themselves at Scarabs, Glowbeetles flared and died, Centipedes crushed wave after wave of enemies, yet the Queen moved through it all without shifting her focus. Every claw that struck her, every thread that bound her, every drumbeat that shook the ground—she swept aside as if swatting dust.
Buzz felt the weight of her attention more than her blows. His knees sagged under it, his shell groaned as if ready to crack, his blood burned through the threads Zza had bound into him. The silence in his skull roared louder, a pressure that made him doubt his own shape, his own weight, his own reason for still moving.
