The forest didn't charge.
It **rolled.**
Roots thickened under the soil, cracking the dry ground in spreading rings. Vines slithered across the dirt like muscle. The air thrummed with something alive enough to have hunger and memory and fury.
Zza felt the network pushing through her shell — not controlling, not puppeteering — just **asking.**
*Are you coming?*
She squeezed her claws. "I'm coming. Don't rush me."
The newborn Queen stepped forward until she stood nose-to-metal with the perimeter wall. Her wings unfurled — slow, deliberate — each blade-like plate catching the gray light until shadows warped around her. No roaring. No threats. She just existed in a way that made the world lean back.
Scarabs arranged themselves at her sides, six by six by six. Centipedes curled and layered like armor plating. Glowbeetles rose into the air in rotating spirals, lights flaring bright enough to blind. Drones lined behind Zza, some trembling, some steady, all present.
