Buzz could taste ash in his mandibles. His arms burned with every motion, every strike sending fire through his cracked shell. The wound they'd carved into the fused Queen spilled rivers of gold that hissed in the soil. She staggered, wings trembling, ichor dripping thick. For a breath, it looked possible—an end within reach.
Zza braced against him, silk coiling his arms, forcing his swings deeper. Her claws bled raw from the friction, her breathing ragged. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder as if her body alone could keep him upright. "Buzz, she's breaking. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
