The air changed the moment they stepped through the hollow.
Warmth pressed around them like a gentle blanket, heavy with the scent of tree sap and honey. The tunnel walls glistened with amber light, resin oozing in slow, shining beads that looked almost alive. Every few steps, Noah's boot made a faint squelch sound.
"Careful," warned one of the stingless-bee sentries ahead. His voice came as a layered hum, the rhythm strangely melodic. "Step where we step. The resin remembers strangers."
Noah frowned. "Remembers?"
The guard only buzzed once in response, then turned and walked on.
Sprint snorted softly. "Friendly bunch, aren't they?"
"Shh," Fern whispered, her voice echoing faintly through the resin hall. "You'll get stuck if you talk too much."
Sprint opened his mouth for a retort, then promptly stepped half a pace off the trail. His foot sank an inch into the resin floor with a sticky pop.
Noah bit back a laugh. "Want some help, chatterbox?"
Sprint glared. "Just… pull."
With one tug, his boot came free, and the group pressed forward again.
The tunnel widened, and a golden glow spilled across them. The walls curved outward into a massive chamber — a cathedral of living resin and sound.Noah stopped, breath caught in his throat.
The space buzzed with life. Hundreds — maybe thousands — of stingless bees moved in graceful precision, each performing a task that fit perfectly with the next. Some carried drops of golden sap in their jaws and smoothed them along the walls like master builders. Others packed pollen into small round pots, sealing them with waxy lids. Still others stirred honey inside open cells with tiny twig-spoons, the air thick with its sweetness.
"This…" Noah whispered, eyes wide, "this is incredible."
"It's a living city," Fern said softly, watching a bee repair a cracked resin bridge with flawless precision. "Everything they make serves something else."
One of the guards turned back to them. "Stay close. The Hive does not slow for visitors."
Before Noah could respond, another bee — rounder, with faint silver dust clinging to his wings — zipped toward them. He hovered mid-air, then landed neatly on a resin ledge at eye level.
"New faces," the bee said, rubbing his forelegs together. "I'm Unit 6969— but everyone just calls me Six." His tone carried a note of humor that almost sounded like a smile. "You must be the groundwalkers who asked to see our Queen."
Fern bowed slightly. "Yes. I am Fern of Rootvale. These are my companions, Sprint and Noah."
"Ah," said Six, tilting his head toward Noah. "The human child. First one we've had since the tall one called Oak. You've got his eyes."
Noah blinked. "You knew my grandfather?"
"Knew him? He once got stuck in a honey pot for three hours. Whole hive smelled like his boots for a week."Six buzzed a laugh that echoed across the chamber. "Come. You'll want the tour before you meet the Queen. You're standing on breakfast, lunch, and construction material all at once."
Sprint glanced down at the sticky floor. "Comforting."
Six guided them along a narrow walkway made from hardened resin. Bees whizzed past in every direction, carrying bits of pollen or globs of tree sap, never once colliding. The air shimmered with motion and sound — a perfectly orchestrated hum.
"These are workers," Six explained, gesturing with a foreleg. "Every bee you see here is one. But within the worker caste, we all have different jobs — builders, nurses, foragers, guards, cleaners… and the occasional complainer."
Sprint smirked. "So basically, everyone does everything."
"Not quite," Six said. "We rotate as we age. Young ones start inside the hive—cleaning, feeding larvae, shaping resin. Older ones take to the skies as foragers or guards. Keeps the hive running like clockwork."
Ahead, a group of bees molded soft resin into curved walls."Those are builders," said Six. "They patch leaks, shape pots, and fix the nursery when larvae get rowdy. We've been doing repairs all week since a storm cracked the upper chambers."
Further ahead, bees fanned their wings near open cells filled with liquid gold."Nurse bees," Six said proudly. "They cool the brood and keep the little ones warm. And when it's feeding time, they deliver nectar—wing to mouth. No delays, no excuses."
A faint sweetness drifted through the air as another group passed, carrying pollen lumps twice their size."And those are foragers," Six continued. "They're the adventurers. They venture out into the world, bringing back the best of the garden—pollen, resin, and the occasional sunburn."
Noah's eyes widened. "You make it sound like a city that never stops."
"That's exactly what it is," said Six. "Every worker, no matter the job, keeps the hive alive. Without us, the Queen can't rule, and the flowers can't bloom."
Fern tilted her head. "What about the drones?"
Six gave a dramatic sigh. "Ah, the drones—our dear brothers. Their one job is to meet with a new Queen and ensure the next generation. They don't build, they don't forage, they don't clean... but we love them anyway. Usually."
Noah chuckled. "Sounds like a pretty easy job."
"Until it's over," Six said dryly. "Then they get kicked out of the hive. It's a short career."
Fern smiled. "You mean all this work keeps the garden alive—pollination."
"Exactly," said Six. "We don't just collect food; we carry life between blossoms."
They followed Six deeper into the hive. The air grew warmer, heavier, humming with a softer tone. The noise of work faded into a steady, gentle vibration — the sound of wings moving carefully, reverently.
"This," said Six quietly, "is the brood chamber. Mind your step."
Rows upon rows of resin cells stretched before them, each one glowing faintly. Inside some, pale larvae curled in sticky warmth. In others, eggs gleamed like pearls. Bees moved tenderly among them, tending and feeding.
Noah stared, spellbound. "There must be thousands."
Six puffed his chest slightly. "We're productive."
At the far end of the chamber, a golden figure moved — enormous compared to the others, her abdomen gleaming like sunlight caught in amber.Every bee they passed bowed slightly as they approached her.
"Queen Nela," Fern whispered.
Even Noah felt the urge to kneel. The Queen's presence filled the room — calm, immense, endlessly patient. She turned her great head toward them, compound eyes shimmering with soft gold. Attendant bees fanned their wings beside her, carrying a delicate scent of honey and wildflowers.
Then, with slow grace, Nela lowered herself and laid a single egg into a waiting cell. The surrounding bees cheered with a quiet, collective buzz — a sound more felt than heard.
Noah swallowed, awed. "She's… amazing."
Six nodded proudly. "Our heart. Our mother. Our light."
The Queen's voice, when it came, was not sound so much as vibration — a pulse that filled the chamber and echoed inside Noah's chest.
"Children of Rootvale," said Nela, her tone deep and melodic. "And child of the surface. The Hive knows why you have come. The Blight spreads its poison through soil and air. You seek a way to endure it."
Fern bowed low. "Your Majesty, we need protection to cross its lands. Without it, the corruption will consume us."
The Queen inclined her great head. "The Blight is no ordinary sickness. It comes from imbalance — from the waste of those who forget the roots beneath their feet. But you are not of that kind."
She turned to one of her attendants. "Bring them the Hive's Blessing."
Two bees flew forward carrying a small dish of glowing golden honey and another filled with thick, fragrant resin.
"The honey," said Nela, "will cleanse your breath and strengthen your hearts. A single sip shields you from poison for a span of hours. The resin — from the sacred tree beyond the southern ridge — will seal your skin and garments from the Blight's touch."
She studied Noah for a long moment. "Oak spoke of humans with greed, yet also with kindness. Which will you be, little one?"
Noah met her gaze. "The kind that fixes what others break."
A slow hum rippled through the chamber — approval.
"Then take our gifts," said Nela. "And carry our song with you. The garden depends on all who still listen."
As they prepared to leave, Six buzzed beside Noah's shoulder. "You'll need to reapply the resin if it rains," he said conversationally. "Water and bee glue don't mix well."
"Got it," Noah said, smiling. "Thanks for everything, Six."
The bee tilted his head. "If you see a flower, thank it. It's probably one of ours."
Fern bowed once more to the Queen, and the group followed the sentries back through the glowing tunnels. The hum of the hive surrounded them — a living heartbeat fading softly as they climbed toward daylight.
When they emerged into the garden once more, the sun was dipping behind tall grass stems. The air felt cleaner, sharper, as though the honey's blessing had freshened every breath.
Ahead, they heard the faint trickle of running water.
"The creek," Sprint said, shading his eyes. "Next stop."
Fern nodded. "Stay close. The ground gets slippery there."
Noah turned once more toward the great tree. Bees darted in and out of the hollow, catching sunlight on their wings. One — silver-winged and round — circled once above them before disappearing back inside.
Noah (softly): "Goodbye, Six. Goodbye, Queen Nela."
The hum of the hive faded behind them, but its warmth lingered — in their hearts, on their skin, and in the quiet golden glow that followed wherever they walked.