As Harry clung to the back of his stingless bee guide, the tunnel swallowed them in darkness. At first, he felt panic well up in his chest, but soon faint glimmers of light began to bounce off sticky, glistening walls. The air grew warmer, denser, filled with an aroma he did not expect: the sweet, sharp scent of resin. It wasn't unpleasant—in fact, it was soothing, like pine trees mingled with honey.
The tunnel itself twisted and turned in a winding path, its walls lined with resin-coated ridges. Harry quickly realized this wasn't for decoration—it was a defense. Any ant or predator trying to break in would find the sticky walls slowing them, trapping them in the maze before they could reach the hive's heart. The winding corridors were narrow in places, forcing Harry to duck low, his hand brushing resin that clung like sap.
"Wow…" he whispered. "This is nothing like honeybee hives."
The tunnel opened into the first chamber, and Harry's jaw dropped.
Massive resin pods, each one bigger than he was, gleamed softly in the dim glow. Their amber sides were translucent, and golden liquid sloshed faintly inside. The stingless bee carrying him buzzed once, then landed beside one pod. Harry slid off, cautiously approaching the resin vessel. His guide tapped the pod with its mandibles, and a small crack opened. The rich scent of honey spilled out.
Harry dipped a finger in and tasted. His eyes widened.
It wasn't like the honey he'd eaten at breakfast tables all his life. This was deeper—layered. The first taste was sweet, but then came a sour note, tangy and bright, followed by a faint resin aftertaste that lingered on his tongue. It was as though the honey had matured, aged in these resin pots like fine wine. The complexity of it stunned him.
"This is incredible," he murmured.
The bee buzzed happily, as though pleased he enjoyed it.
They moved further into the chamber, where another set of pods waited. These looked similar to the honey vessels but carried a stronger, almost floral aroma. His bee companion tapped one open, revealing a dense yellow mass. Pollen.
Harry took a pinch and brought it to his lips. It was powdery, slightly sticky, with a powerful flowery taste and just a hint of sourness. As he swallowed, he felt it fill his belly in a way nectar never could. This was solid food—protein, strength. His body hummed with renewed energy.
"I could live on this," he said with a grin, licking his fingers.
They moved deeper still. Now the chamber changed. Instead of towering pods, Harry saw clusters of smaller resin structures, arranged in delicate spirals and layers. Each one held movement.
He stepped closer, realizing what he was looking at: brood cells.
Tiny larvae writhed within their resin cradles, translucent bodies glowing faintly under the sticky walls. Worker bees hovered over them, carefully tending—feeding, cleaning, sealing new pods shut. The air vibrated with their quiet labor. The sight mesmerized him. Unlike the strict, hexagonal symmetry of honeybee combs, this was organic, almost chaotic, as though the hive grew like a living forest.
The workers paused to look at him, their black eyes unreadable, antennae flicking. For a moment, Harry worried he might not be welcome here. But his companion clicked and buzzed rapidly, signaling reassurance. Slowly, the workers returned to their tasks, though a few kept a curious watch on the strange outsider.
Harry felt a swell of awe. He was walking in the middle of a city, but one unlike anything humans had built. Every structure had purpose, every bee knew its role. And somehow, they tolerated his presence.
As they moved toward the far side of the chamber, Harry noticed something unusual. One bee stood apart from the others, perched on the rim of a pollen pod. It was bigger—its body bulkier, its wings broader, its head thicker than the slender workers he had seen so far.
Harry tilted his head. "That one looks different…"
His guide buzzed low, circling toward the larger bee.
Harry realized this must be a drone—the male caste of the stingless colony. Unlike the tireless workers, drones had a different role to play.