“I still can’t believe she chose all of us,” Vicky muttered, arms crossed, her long tail flicking against the side of the carriage as if to bleed off her nerves.

“I think it’s surreal we’re here in the first place.” Mera smoothed her skirts nervously, glancing around the finely furnished interior. Polished wood, padded benches, even little curtains on the windows — far more luxury than she’d ever expected to sit in. “This carriage is too nice. Fit for a noble. Not something… like me.” Her voice softened as she ducked her head.

Jakira leaned back with a grin, tusks catching the lantern light. “I don’t know how, but I hope the queen beds me. Nothing ever got me going as hard as when she had me pinned on the ground.”

The words dropped like a hammer.

Both Vicky and Mera stared at her, wide-eyed. Mera went red to her ears. Vicky’s tail twitched as if she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scold.

“What?” Jakira raised her hands. “You’re telling me you didn’t feel something when she manhandled you like you weighed nothing? That was… gods, that was glorious.”

Vicky groaned and covered her face with one hand. “You’re unbelievable.”

Mera busied herself with looking out the window, though her blush betrayed her. “I’m not saying anything…” she mumbled.

The trio jolted slightly as the carriage rocked over a stone. Outside, the steady creak of the wheels mixed with an odd, heavy clicking sound — the armored plates of the massive pill bug pulling them shifting as it lumbered along. The beast, easily the size of a cottage, had been fitted with reins of braided leather and a harness of steel. Its antennae waved lazily as it hauled the carriage as if it were nothing more than a toy.

The thought that this had been the same creature Chrysanthemum rode in on when she first entered Gloriana’s city made the scene even more surreal.

Vicky peeked out the window, watching the enormous insect trundle along. “I think this is worse than horses.”

“Better,” Jakira corrected immediately. “At least you don’t have to shovel what it leaves behind.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” Mera whispered.

They fell into silence for a moment, the three of them alone together for the first time, bouncing along in their absurdly lavish carriage, on their way to a kingdom none of them could yet imagine.

Eventually, the outside darkened, and not because it was nightfall. The light above them dimmed as the carriage dipped into a yawning tunnel, its maw swallowing them whole. The sound changed too—muted, echoes rippling along the stone. The air grew cooler, carrying a faint mineral tang that tickled the nose.

Then the walls began to glow. Veins of blue crystal threaded through the rock, casting a soft, unearthly radiance that shimmered against the polished wood of their carriage. Shapes of the stone blurred in the light, shadows bending and stretching in strange patterns.

“It’s beautiful,” Mera breathed, leaning close to the window, her eyes wide as the glow painted her features silver-blue.

“Yeah… it is,” Vicky said softly, resting her chin on her hand, though her gaze lingered more on Mera’s expression than the glittering walls.

The tunnel stretched on, the crystals multiplying until it seemed as if they were gliding through the heart of some sleeping jewel.

At last, the steady rumble of wheels slowed. The harnessed beasts gave a tired huff, claws scraping stone as the carriage rolled to a stop before a pair of massive doors. They rose higher than any tree Mera had ever seen, carved from dark stone and covered in whorled etchings that pulsed faintly with the same blue glow as the crystals.

For a moment there was silence, save for the echo of dripping water somewhere deeper in the tunnel. Then a deep, grinding shudder passed through the ground as the doors began to move. Stone scraped against stone, shaking loose dust that glittered like falling stars in the crystal light.

The doors swung fully open, and the carriage rolled forward. Mera and Vicky’s jaws dropped.

The cavern wasn’t a city in any human sense. Towering crystalline spires rose like jagged teeth from the floor, connected by twisting, web-like bridges that glowed faintly with the same ethereal blue light as the tunnel. The architecture seemed grown, not built — curves and angles forming in impossible patterns, spiraling and branching in ways that made the mind reel. Walls shimmered with facets like polished exoskeletons, reflecting light and shadow in strange, hypnotic ways.

No streets or squares existed as humans would know them. Instead, massive open spaces were crisscrossed with suspended platforms, natural stalagmites, and bridges, while luminescent fungi and crystal veins bathed the cavern in a gentle, pulsing glow. Far below, streams of liquid light—thick, slow, and iridescent—wound through the chasms, illuminating everything from beneath.

As the carriage moved, the travelers passed countless swarm members going about their duties. Multi-limbed workers carried massive crystal blocks, stacking them into spires, while others tended to glowing fungal beds or polished the crystalline surfaces. Some moved in fluid, synchronized patterns across bridges and platforms, their movements precise and mesmerizing, clicking and chittering softly in a rhythm that seemed to reverberate through the cavern itself. Massive millipede-like couriers slid along tunnels and walkways, transporting luminescent resources from one area to another. Even the smallest scuttling workers moved with purpose, their segmented bodies reflecting the ethereal glow as they disappeared into crevices and tunnels.

Finally, the carriage arrived at the grand palace. Its spires were taller and more elaborate than anything else in the cavern, the walls layered with glowing crystals that traced every curve and arch. The entire structure seemed to shimmer with power, as if it had grown from the cavern floor itself. Swarm members patrolled terraces and bridges, their chitinous forms gleaming under the crystal light, moving in patterns that suggested both discipline and instinctive elegance.

The three women were so glued to the window that they didn’t even notice the carriage door sliding open. A tall, spindly arachnoid swarm member hovered just outside, its many limbs moving with precise, deliberate grace. “Ezzcuz hyoomeez. The time for ze leaving iz now,” it intoned in a surprisingly melodic chitter, its voice echoing faintly off the cavern walls.

Startled, they scrambled to gather their wits, stepping down one by one, their mouths still agape at the otherworldly city sprawled before them. Crystal spires stretched impossibly high, bridges wound like ribbons through the cavern, and the luminescent veins of the walls cast everything in a surreal, pulsing glow. Even the busy swarm members moving about their duties seemed to radiate an alien elegance that made every human instinct reel.

Chrysanthemum emerged, her four arms extending gracefully as if embracing the entire cavern at once. “This is the magnificentest, yesss?” she asked, her tone tinged with pride and delight.

“It’s incredible,” Vicky breathed, her eyes wide. “The palace of the Dragonlords has nothing on this.”

The queen clicked her mandibles several times, a sound that seemed both approving and melodic. “Yess yess, of course. This one is better brained than the disgusting sky predators. They use bad shiny rocks. We use the best ones.”

“Gold?” Mera asked, curiosity overtaking her nerves.

“Yess, that is what hyoomee name is for it. Worthless!” Chrysanthemum flexed her mandibles in disgust. “The blue rock is much better. Glows, strong, beautiful. Not weak and soft like your gold. Useless shiny hyoomee trash.”

Jakira let out a low whistle. “I’ve never seen a palace that actually looks alive. Like it grew, instead of being built.”

“Yes, grown,” Chrysanthemum hissed, the corners of her mandibles twitching. “Everything here… made by swarm. Everything here… perfect for the swarm. You see? You understand?”

The three women exchanged glances, still wide-eyed and speechless. Even in the soft glow of the cavern, they could feel the deliberate, uncanny power radiating from Chrysanthemum and her domain.

“You follow. This one shows the place of this one’s living.” Chrysanthemum’s four arms gestured with elegance as she beckoned them forward, her mandibles clicking lightly in rhythm.

The three women hesitated only a moment before falling into step behind her. Several insectoid attendants scuttled past them, their multi-jointed limbs making soft scraping sounds against the smooth stone floor as they moved to fling open the massive, intricately carved doors.

The chamber beyond was breathtaking. Unlike human halls filled with tapestries, paintings, or statues, the walls here were alive with history. Smooth, flowing stone stretched from floor to vaulted ceiling, as if it had been melted and reshaped, and embedded within it were carvings—figures, shapes, abstract and precise, that seemed to tell stories in motion. Panels wove together tales of battles fought, alliances forged, and victories won, all flowing seamlessly from one to the next. The faint glow of embedded crystals lit the etchings, giving them a subtle, pulsing luminescence.

“The walls tell the stories of this one’s reign,” Chrysanthemum explained, her voice rich with pride. “All need to know of my power and radiance. Has ruled for long time. Will rule for long time. Am eternal.” She gestured toward a sprawling relief that depicted herself rising triumphantly over a great battlefield, the swarm in perfect, synchronized formations behind her.

Vicky, Mera, and Jakira exchanged glances, the scale and detail leaving them awestruck. Each etched figure seemed to hum with energy, like the stories themselves had been imbued with the essence of the Swarm Queen’s will.

Chrysanthemum’s eyes glimmered as she continued, “These walls… they remember everything. Every victory, every sacrifice, every hyoomee saved or crushed. They serve as a guide, a warning, a declaration. The chamber is more than living space—it is testament. To power. To beauty. To the eternity of the Swarm.”

Mera could feel her pulse quicken. “It’s… unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, awed.

“Yes. Not like hyoomee places. We do not paint or carve for beauty alone. We carve for the life. For the remembering. For the dominating.” Chrysanthemum’s mandibles flexed in what seemed almost like a smile. “You will see more. Much more.”

Several members of the procession broke off, moving with precise, fluid motions toward other duties, leaving the trio trailing closely behind the Swarm Queen. They passed the massive throne, carved from solid glowing crystal that refracted the faint light in shifting prismatic patterns.

Chrysanthemum stopped in front of a heavy, crystalline doorway. “This room is for the most sacred of artifacts! The Theatre Box!” Her four arms spread wide, mandibles clicking with excitement.

The trio exchanged uneasy glances, curiosity and awe mixing in their expressions.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, with crystal filaments along the walls casting faint, pulsating light. Members of the swarm were arranged in silent formations, their multi-limbed bodies twisting and moving with ritual precision. They communicated in soft clicks and hums, alien sounds that made Vicky instinctively hold her breath.

At the center was the Theatre Box. It was unlike anything the women had ever seen. A flat, glowing surface floated above a pedestal, flickering with shifting images that seemed to exist in a strange, impossible dimension. Shapes moved, not bound by gravity or perspective, emitting a constant soft hum and shifting light patterns.

Among the alien chaos, the one recognizably human element caught the trio’s eyes: tiny human figures moving across the screen. Their gestures and faces were clear, their emotions understandable even if nothing else about the display made sense. The humans appeared to speak, but their words sounded like incomprehensible noise; the voice was just another strange vibration, like the humming of the crystals.

“This… this is… a performance?” Mera whispered, leaning closer.

“Yesss! The little people trapped inside,” Chrysanthemum replied, clicking her mandibles with evident pride. “They move. They act. They show feelings. The swarm watches. Learns. Studies. Practices the romance.”

Jakira frowned. “Trapped? They can’t…leave?”

“Do not know. Do not ask. They entertain endlessly. Perhaps happy. Perhaps not. Does not matter. This one treasures them.”

Vicky’s eyes widened, following the humans’ movements. “It’s… kind of mesmerizing. I don’t understand it, but…”

“Recognize only the hyoomee’s,” Chrysanthemum confirmed. “All else is beyond comprehension. It shows the life, the motion, the devotion. Sacred. Precious.”

Jakira’s eyes drifted to the back of the room, where thick, shimmering cables ran from the glowing Theatre Box into a side chamber. What purpose could that serve? She glanced at Chrysanthemum, curiosity flickering across her features.

“Come,” the queen said, her four arms gesturing expansively. “This one shows you the rooms. This one made sure for the accommodations for hyoomee guests.”

“Do you get human guests often?” Jakira asked cautiously.

“No. Last one was sixty-three summers ago,” Chrysanthemum replied, her tone both matter-of-fact and slightly proud. “But being prepared is always important. If neglect, then can be taken by surprise. This one does not like the surprise. The North Rot place makes many violent prey. Must always be prepared.” Her voice carried the weight of experience, a mixture of regal authority and the practical caution of a predator that had ruled for long seasons.

They proceeded down a polished corridor, the walls glowing faintly from embedded crystals, bathing everything in soft blue light. The air smelled faintly of ozone and the tang of the subterranean city beyond. Jakira tried not to gape, taking in the smooth, alien architecture that seemed to grow naturally out of the crystal walls, flowing and organic, as if the stone itself were alive.

Chrysanthemum stopped in front of a row of doors, each carved from the same shimmering stone and etched with patterns that seemed to move when looked at out of the corner of one’s eye.

“Each can have one,” the queen explained, her tone almost reverential. “Much luxury. Would offer this one’s bed, but also this one understands that the romance takes time for the cuddling to happen. This one is ready, but this one will not push.”

Jakira felt a flush rise to her cheeks, the mixture of awe and embarrassment twisting together. The queen’s words were careful, deliberate, almost considerate, even as they implied a very intimate understanding of the… activities that might follow.

Mera, who had been trailing slightly behind, whispered to Jakira, “She’s… so precise about everything. It’s kind of… comforting?”

Jakira nodded slowly. There was something about Chrysanthemum’s combination of alien otherness, power, and careful patience that made the dragonkin, orc, and human feel both small and… safe.

The queen’s mandibles flexed in what Jakira suspected was a smile. “Come. Choose the room that pleases. All are prepared. All are secure. All are yours for the time of your stay.”

Jakira’s heart thumped. She hadn’t expected this level of attention, of… thoughtful accommodation. Even in her wildest imaginings, the Swarm Queen’s lair had felt untouchable, alien, almost cruel. And yet here, in this corridor lined with softly glowing doors, it seemed… inviting.

“Rest. This one will be back soon,” Chrysanthemum instructed, her four arms folded neatly across her chest. Her mandibles clicked softly, a subtle gesture that seemed almost gentle despite her imposing presence. “You can leave, but might get lost. So wait for this one to get back.”

The three women exchanged glances, each processing the queen’s words in their own way. Jakira’s ears twitched nervously; she was used to being in control, yet here she felt unusually small. Mera fidgeted with the hem of her dress, stealing another glance at Chrysanthemum’s imposing figure before following the directions. Vicky simply nodded, letting her usual calm demeanor hide the thrill of being in such an alien palace.

One by one, they each slipped into the rooms that had been assigned to them. The doors closed with a soft, crystalline hum, sealing them in small sanctuaries that were both alien and luxurious. Soft bioluminescent light seeped from the walls, casting subtle patterns across the floors. Each room was uniquely decorated with smooth, organic forms that seemed to grow from the walls themselves, all carefully designed to make them feel welcome—and perhaps, in the queen’s eyes, to prepare them for what was to come.

Chrysanthemum, meanwhile, turned back and retraced her steps down the corridor. Her legs moved with deliberate grace, her multiple arms swinging slightly to maintain balance as she navigated the softly glowing crystal-lined passageways. Every click of her claws against the polished stone echoed faintly, a rhythmic sound that seemed to mark her solitude.

 

---

 

“Miss Retania, I insist you visit the gene therapy chamber. Your genome is sixty-seven point three percent corrupted. Any more, and I worry you will be beyond help,” the spirit intoned, its voice echoing softly across the smooth, polished chamber.

“Be quiet, spirit! I do not need help! I am the Swarm Queen! I am indomitable! Powerful! And I need you to make three human meals. My subjects are not well-versed in such craft,” Chrysanthemum snapped, her four arms folding across her chitinous chest.

The spirit let out a long, exasperated sigh, curling around a panel in a swirl of light and shadow. “At least you brought the plates back this time. My supply of ceramic composite is running low. If you misplace another set…”

Chrysanthemum ignored it. She stepped fully into her private chamber, a space only she was allowed to enter. Everything here—the smooth walls, the polished counters, the strange limbs that extended from the ceiling—was hers to command. To an outsider it might seem strange, maybe even mechanical, but to her, it was simply her sanctum.

She placed three plates on the counter. Instantly, the metal limbs descended and carefully carried each dish to the food box. Through the clear crystal windows, Chrysanthemum watched as the meals took shape. The first plate became a perfect, juicy steak, richer than any she had ever tasted in human queendoms. The second and third plates followed suit, each forming with exacting precision.

“I will need more nutrients soon. I am almost out of organic matter again,” the spirit reminded her.

“Nuutreeants?” Chrysanthemum repeated, mandibles clicking.

“Food balls, Miss Retania,” the spirit clarified, clearly unamused.

“Yes. I can get more. Soon. I have the romance to do first. Food balls will come after,” Chrysanthemum replied, her multiple eyes flicking to the plates with a gleam of anticipation.

The spirit paused. “Who are these for, Miss Retania? You normally only request one plate.”

Chrysanthemum shuddered slightly, mandibles flexing. “After reading the books and watching the theatre box, I wished to experience the romance. I visited a hyoomee queendom… and acquired three girlfriends.”

“You brought actual humans here?” the spirit asked incredulously.

“Yes. Humans are well-versed in the romance,” Chrysanthemum replied proudly. “They are clever, curious… perfect subjects for study.”

“You must bring them here for analysis. You are overdue for a report. Your last report was expected two hundred and twenty-seven thousand five hundred and forty-eight days ago,” the spirit droned, its tone precise and unyielding. The words hung in the chamber like sharp, metallic echoes.

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked in irritation. “I do not report to anyone! I stand above all! Above the stars, above the prey, above the lowly hyoomees and their fragile kingdoms! I command, I rule, I am indomitable!”

The spirit remained unflinching, floating just above the polished surface of the counter, its ethereal form flickering like light caught in crystal.

“Now focus, spirit! I need the meals for my girlfriends. Not your droning about reports or schedules. My will is paramount, and my will demands action!”

“Yes… yes, of course, Miss Retania,” the spirit replied, its voice softening, tinged with reluctant obedience. Its limbs extended silently to adjust the plates, making sure each dish was positioned precisely for the food box to work its strange magic.

Chrysanthemum flexed her arms, watching the process with satisfaction. “Good. This is what matters. The romance, the meals, the perfection of my will made manifest. Nothing else exists in this chamber except my desires—and they shall be fulfilled.”

The metallic arms of the chamber hummed softly as they carried out her commands, and Chrysanthemum allowed herself a rare, fleeting moment of smug contentment. Even the spirit’s nagging could not disrupt the sense of control that filled the space; here, in her secret chamber, she was absolute.