The three women stared in shock at the wriggling things in the swarm queen’s palms. They looked alive, slick and glistening like pale grubs, each one twitching faintly as if eager for a host. The words that had just left Chrysanthemum’s mandibles made the sight no less horrifying.

“You… you want us to stick these in our ears?” Jakira’s tusks jutted forward as she grimaced, clearly unafraid of battle but suddenly uncertain about this.

“Yesss, yesss!” Chrysanthemum chittered, as if the answer were obvious. “Then yous can be doing the understand better. Hyoomeee language very much the difficult. The bugs make the clever inside ears. Understand all. Trust! This one will not bring the hurt upon you. Too precious. Too important for hurting.”

Her certainty only made the three glance at one another in greater disbelief.

“O-okay,” Mera said at last, swallowing hard. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached forward and picked up one of the little creatures between thumb and forefinger. It was warm, squirming, its faint bristles tickling her skin. “So… I just… put this in my ear?”

“Yessss, yesss. Not actual larvae. Just look like one. Magiks, crafted long ago. Done before, many times. Not dangerous.”

That last part didn’t feel reassuring in the slightest, but Mera drew in a shaky breath, closed her eyes, and pressed the wriggling thing toward her ear canal. It squirmed at the opening and then burrowed with surprising speed. She squealed and clapped a hand over the side of her head.

“It doesn’t hurt—” she gasped, eyes wide “—it’s just… uncomfortable.”

Chrysanthemum leaned close, her mandibles flexing. “Can you understand me now?”

Mera blinked. “Yes. Yes, I can!” The words had suddenly become smooth, clear, no longer the thick and broken speech of before. She looked around in shock. “It’s like she’s speaking perfect Htulthan!”

Jakira frowned. “What was that? Just sounded like hissing and clicks to me.”

“Put the talk bug in ear. Then you hear too.” Chrysanthemum extended another squirming creature toward her, utterly unbothered by the disgust on their faces. To her, this was a gift—something intimate, precious.

The other two women exchanged one last look—half solidarity, half “we’re doing this together”—and then followed suit.

Jakira snatched the wriggling thing from Chrysanthemum with the blunt efficiency of someone used to grabbing a hot blade. It wriggled against her palm, warm and oddly weighty, and when she tipped it toward her ear it squirmed in like a curious, living earplug. She jerked her head as it settled, then froze.

“This feels… weird,” she said after a breath, rubbing at the place where it nestled. A faint tickle ran deep inside her skull, like the ghost of a touch. But then a soft clarity slid over her thoughts and she heard Chrysanthemum’s voice as if someone had turned a misted window into glass. “Yeah. I can.”

Vicky’s face went pale as she reached for hers. She hesitated a heartbeat—an image of some childhood superstition flickering past—and then forced herself forward. The larvae slid in with an uncomfortable, intimate pressure. Vicky shuddered hard; it felt invasive, a warmth that crowded the inner ear, a soft, living presence that made her very aware of her skull. She pressed her palm to her cheek and let out a thin, shaky laugh. “Oh—no, I do not like this.”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae quivered with obvious delight. “Yesss! You will get used to it. You will be able to understand all of my swarm now.” Her mandibles clicked happily. The idea seemed to please her as if she’d given them a precious gift—an intimate, biological bridge between species.

“I can still hear the clicking and chittering, but it makes perfect sense now. I didn’t realize it was all language—” Vicky stopped short, paling. “Oh shoot, that sounded insulting. Sorry, Your Majesty.”

Chrysanthemum waved both hands dismissively, mandibles clicking in amusement. “It’s fine, fine. A lot of the human tongue sounds the same to this one. One noise, many meanings. It is understandable.”

Mera tilted her head, emboldened now that she could properly speak with the queen. “So… what now? We volunteered for this, but what will our day-to-day duties be? We all worked until now. Are we supposed to… do something?”

The queen clicked her claws together, a pensive trill rumbling in her thorax. “This one is not sure. The books and the theatre box said there would be… dates. And cuddling. And kissing.” She paused, mandibles spreading in what passed for a smile. “Also sometimes preparing food for each other. Speaking of which—yes, yes—This one has prepared food for you!” She clacked both pairs of hands in delight. “Follow me.”

The three women exchanged doubtful glances, but curiosity outweighed hesitation. They trailed after Chrysanthemum through the strange crystalline corridors, their footsteps echoing against the smooth walls. At last the passage opened into a broad chamber, lit with the same soft crystal-glow as everywhere else.

A massive round table stood in the center, carved of some dark stone that shimmered faintly in the light. Three rock stools sat around it, each padded with mossy coverings that looked oddly comfortable.

And waiting for them on the table—was food. Real food.

Plates of seared steak, vegetables arranged with almost ceremonial care, and bowls of sauces in hues none of them recognized but which smelled richly spiced.

“Sit! Eat!” Chrysanthemum said, practically vibrating with excitement, her antennae twitching as if she herself could taste the meal through them.

They each gingerly took a seat, the moss-covered stools surprisingly springy beneath them. Their eyes stayed fixed on the queen, who crouched down at the head of the table. Instead of taking a seat like they had, Chrysanthemum folded her legs beneath her, claws resting neatly against the stone floor.

She tilted her head back and let out a piercing screech. The noise ricocheted off the crystal walls, sharp enough to make the trio wince and clap their hands over their ears. A few seconds later, the thudding scrape of many legs echoed through the hall.

A centipede the size of a horse slithered into the chamber, its armored plates glinting in the crystal light. Balanced across its back were two glistening spheres of something gelatinous, each the size of a melon. The creature reverently eased them down in front of Chrysanthemum, bowing low before retreating in silence.

The queen’s antennae wiggled happily. “Eat, eat! Yes! The food is for you.”

The three women stared at the strange orbs, their surfaces quivering faintly as if something inside still moved. Their noses caught the faintest whiff of brine and iron.

Mera cleared her throat carefully. “Uhm… you wouldn’t happen to have cutlery, would you?”

Chrysanthemum blinked, then smacked her mandibles together in realization. “Oh. Right. Yes. That’s what you were using on the dates.” She scuttled upright with sudden energy. “This one will be back soon.”

Without another word she hurried out of the chamber, claws clattering against the stone.

Silence lingered in her absence.

“This meal looks way too normal,” Jakira muttered, eyeing the neatly arranged steak and vegetables with suspicion. Her gaze drifted back to the quivering orbs across the table, their translucent skin rippling as if something inside still twitched. A shiver ran down her spine. “I was expecting something more like… that.”

“Same,” Mera admitted in a hushed tone. “Where did this even come from? Do they have… human or demi-human chefs hidden down here?”

Vicky leaned closer, her voice low. “If they did, why is she about to eat… that?”

Before either could reply, the queen returned in a flurry of clicking claws. In her upper hands she carried a mismatched set of forks and knives, clearly scavenged from somewhere. She placed one before each of them with ceremonial precision, her antennae twitching in delight.

“Eat, eat! Yes, yes. For the romance!”

Without hesitation she settled back at the head of the table. Both sets of her hands sank eagerly into the gelatinous orb, tearing it apart in thick, sticky chunks. The substance inside oozed like half-coagulated jelly, strands clinging to her mandibles as she devoured it with audible slurps.

The three women exchanged quick, horrified glances, then fixed their eyes firmly on their own plates.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Mera whispered, forcing herself to spear a piece of steak.

The moment it touched her tongue, her eyes widened. “Oh gods… it’s—good.”

“This… this is the best steak I have ever eaten in my life,” Vicky said, voice trembling between disbelief and awe.

Jakira chewed her own bite, then let out an involuntary moan. “This is even better than the one at that fancy noble place we went to.”

Their conversation trailed off as the food drew them in, each bite impossibly rich, perfectly cooked, almost too perfect. Behind the clatter of cutlery, the wet tearing of Chrysanthemum’s feast filled the chamber like a second rhythm.

After a thoroughly satisfying meal, the three of them leaned back from the table, still savoring the lingering flavors. The queen noisily finished tearing through the last of her gelatinous feast, mandibles clacking happily, before turning her glittering eyes on them.

Vicky broke the silence first. “So… what now? What will we be doing with our time here? Do we get jobs, or…?”

Chrysanthemum clicked in amusement, the sound reverberating through the crystal walls. “No! No jobs. Girlfriends of the swarm are of the highest rank, just below this one of course! No duties except for romance. What do girlfriends want to do?”

Jakira leaned forward, resting her elbows on the moss-padded stone table. “Well… I like forging things. Could I set up a forge down here? I’d go crazy if I had nothing to do. Maybe some of my weapons would even be useful to you.”

The queen’s antennae perked, and she clacked her mandibles thoughtfully. “Hmm, yes. Easily done. We have much of the hardrock for shaping. Very strong. Sometimes this one—” she cut herself short abruptly, mandibles twitching. “Nothing. Not important. Yes, we can provide you the place for this forge. You will craft many shiny dangerous things.”

Then she turned with sudden focus to Vicky, extending both arms toward her as though presenting her to some invisible audience. “You, repulsively attractive one. What do you wish?”

Vicky blinked. “…Excuse me? Why do you keep calling me repulsive? Am I that ugly?” A frown tugged at her lips.

The queen leaned closer, her multiple eyes glinting in the crystal light. “No, not ugly. You make this one’s instincts agitated. But also very pretty. Glorious eyes. Softflesh looks… squishy.” She tapped her claws lightly on the table for emphasis. “Antennae rigid but shapely. So, both horrible and magnificent. An intriguing combination, this one thinks.”

Vicky flushed scarlet, utterly at a loss. “I… what?”

Jakira snorted into her hand, trying not to laugh, while Mera just whispered, “She means you’re her type.”

The queen snapped her mandibles in agreement. “Yes! That! Repulsively attractive, gloriously revolting. Very good for romance.”

She turned her glittering eyes to Mera next.

“You wish to keep making the decorations?”

“Yes, please,” said Mera, her voice small but steady. “It’s all I know… I would—if you’ll let me—make more clothing for you. To do that for you would be an honor.”

“Yes it would! Acceptable!” Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked in approval, her antennae twitching happily. “Do not have the cloth here. Will get it from the human queendom. Humans like the worthless yellow shiny hardrock, yes? This one saw much of it during this one’s stay.”

“Gold?” asked Mera, blinking. “If that’s it, then yes. It’s extremely valuable to humans and demi-humans.”

“Demi-humans?” The queen leaned forward with visible curiosity.

“Uhmm…” Mera faltered, glancing nervously at Vicky and Jakira for help.

Jakira gave a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes. “She means like us. I’m not considered human usually. I’m an orc. She’s dragonkin.” She jerked her thumb at Vicky, who looked mildly offended.

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, mandibles twitching in confusion. “Yes? But all humans. All can breed with each other. Can’t do that if different species. Saying human or demi-human is pointless when all the same species.”

Vicky sputtered. “That’s… not… it’s not that simple!”

Jakira leaned back with a grin. “You’re not gonna win this one, trust me. She’s decided we’re all human. We’re human now.”

Mera let out a nervous laugh. “I… guess. I mean I already was human… yeah…”

Chrysanthemum clacked her hands together, pleased with herself. “Good! Settled. All humans. No more of this demi nonsense. Confusing words. Too many syllables. All humans, all girlfriends. Yes!”

She looked so proud of her decree that none of them dared to argue further.

“Want to watch the theatre box? Afterwards I will show you many more artifacts. I’ve already shown the swarm most of them, so they aren’t too special to the swarm any more.”

With no reason to argue, they followed her back into the chamber. There were fewer swarm members this time—only a handful scattered through the dark room, their mandibles clicking idly as the glowing screen bathed them in shifting light.

The queen plopped herself onto the smooth stone floor and patted the ground eagerly with both lower hands. “Sit here. Here is for the romance.”

Jakira arched a brow but smirked, dropping down without hesitation. Vicky rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath, yet still sat where the queen indicated.

Mera hesitated, clutching her hands together. The glow from the screen flickered across her face as she stood there awkwardly, unsure if she should squeeze in next to Vicky or stay behind. In the end, she slid down on the far side beside Vicky, trying not to make herself stand out.

That lasted all of five seconds.

Chrysanthemum’s upper arms hooked under her with shocking ease, lifting her straight off the ground. Mera let out a squeak as she was deposited squarely onto the queen’s lap, nestled between two sets of chitinous arms.

“M-m-my queen—!” Mera stammered, face burning red.

“Yes, yes. You are the lap-sitter. Softest, smallest, most cuddly. Fits perfect. This one decided.” Chrysanthemum chittered contentedly, mandibles clicking in what passed for a smile.

Jakira snorted, covering her grin with the back of her hand. “Guess that makes sense.”

Vicky huffed, folding her arms. “Why am I not surprised?”

The screen shifted, showing humans in strange clothing moving through rooms none of them recognized. The swarm around them made little clicks of amusement at the noises and movements, though none of the girlfriends could make sense of the scene.

Mera, trapped in place, sank into the warmth of the queen’s hold, too flustered to protest further.

“What are they saying? I haven’t heard this language before,” Vicky murmured, her eyes narrowing at the strange humans on the glowing box. “And that’s saying something. I’ve travelled quite a bit.”

“This one does not know,” Chrysanthemum admitted, mandibles flexing in irritation as though it annoyed her to not understand. “Sometimes words are familiar, but human tongue is strange. Sentence structure is strange. They laugh at things that are not funny. Then they cry at things that are not sad.”

Jakira tilted her head, chewing her lip. “So… they’re putting on a play? But the people don’t know they’re in a play?”

“Yes, yes!” the queen clicked excitedly, her lower arms tightening around Mera’s waist. “That is why it is fascinating. They act as if their world is real, trapped in the box, repeating the stories forever. Not aware of the swarm’s eyes watching. Perfect entertainment.”

“That’s… creepy,” Mera whispered, though she couldn’t look away. The people inside the box were laughing together in what looked like a communal hall, their voices high and cheerful, though none of it made sense. The cadence was familiar, the emotions obvious, but the actual words twisted together into nothing more than gibberish.

Vicky leaned forward, frowning. “It’s not like any tongue I’ve heard. It doesn’t even sound like it belongs on this continent.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, antennas twitching toward the sound. “Maybe from another land. Or another time. Or another… thing. This one not know. But they are the trapped humans, and they please the swarm.”

She sounded entirely sincere, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“I wanted to ask earlier… where do those cables lead?” Jakira asked, nodding toward the thick black cords snaking from the glowing box into the wall behind it.

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles twitched, and she spoke faster than usual. “Nowhere. No need to think about it.”

Jakira raised a brow. “Nowhere? Cables don’t usually go to nowhere.”

The queen’s antennae stiffened, her many eyes fixing on Jakira in a way that made the orc shift uncomfortably. “No need to investigate,” Chrysanthemum said firmly, all four arms folding across her chest in a posture that somehow felt both casual and threatening. “Because no one is allowed there but me. It is the sacred place. The forbidden place. Not even the swarm enters. Not even Skitherix.”

The mention of the colossal millipede left behind in her home kingdom sent a shiver down Mera’s spine.

Jakira looked like she wanted to press further but caught the sharp glint in the queen’s eyes and leaned back instead. “Uh, sure. Okay. Got it.”

Chrysanthemum clicked approvingly, as if the matter were settled, and turned her attention back to the glowing humans trapped inside the box.