“I don’t have a—” Alesha’s jaw snapped shut with a sharp chitter, her throat trembling as the sound forced its way out. “—choice, Edward. I have to do this.”

“You absolutely do not, Miss Retania. Your only duty was to survey and then report back to your superiors,” replied her ship’s AI, calm and precise as always.

Alesha’s lip curled, a hiss escaping between her teeth. “Sorry. I know it’s not in my job description, but it’s clearly some mega’s fault for dumping those fucking experiments on this planet. It could be years before—” another jagged chitter tore free of her throat, “—before the government does a damn thing about it. And you know how antsy they get about primitives!”

Edward’s voice sharpened, still mechanical but laced with urgency. “All the more reason to report back. You’re just one woman. Plus… Alesha, you’re getting worse. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

Her claws dug into her palms as her eyes flicked toward the surface of the planet below, distant and green through the viewport. “Because I can’t leave them be. There are humans here—humans, Edward—on the far reach of the galaxy. Ones that have clearly been here since before FTL travel. And there’s magic. Magic!” Her voice cracked as another involuntary chitter jolted through her chest. “I can’t just walk away and let it—”

The sentence strangled itself in her throat. Her eyes burned, molten pain stabbing behind them until it felt like stone grinding in her sockets. She shrieked, collapsing to her knees, clawing frantically at her face.

“Miss Retania!” Edward’s voice rang with panic.

“Quiet, spirit!” she hissed, forcing the words out between spasms, as though even her voice was turning against her.

“Fine… Fine. I’m just here to help you anyway. I have already voiced my opinion many times,” said the AI, resignation tinting his otherwise mechanical voice. 

Alesha’s chest heaved, claws tightening around the railing as she steadied herself. The pain still throbbed behind her eyes, but her resolve burned brighter. “I must go back down. Must save those people.”

The viewport lit her in a cold glow as the planet turned slowly beneath them. She could see the smoke rising from settlements, faint even from orbit. The thought of leaving them to burn clawed at her gut far worse than any of the chittering spasms wracking her body.

“You are not a soldier, nor a savior,” Edward said softly, almost pleading. “You are a scout. A scientist. You are breaking apart, Alesha.”

She shook her head violently, mandibles clicking in defiance. “Then let me break where it matters. Not up here, hiding, while they die.”

Chrysanthemum surged forward with her army of defenders, leading the spear tip of the formation, slinging spatial magicks left and right, tearing apart any foe that entered her vision.

There were far more than usual. An infestation of this magnitude warranted her presence, and her instincts had been right to bring her into the fray.

The battlefield was littered with the remnants of her power: heavy black spheres, collapsed pockets of space, still shimmering with the aftershocks of her crushing spells. Whole swathes of rot-beasts had been swallowed, compressed into unrecognizable scraps—but still the horde did not tire.

Already, she had rotated her warriors three times, their carapaces gleaming with sweat and ichor as exhaustion chewed through them. Even her own limbs ached from ceaseless slaughter. Thirty-three moons of battle without pause, and at last, the fatigue was creeping into her, dimming the edges of her fire.

Yet her claws remained sharp, and her magick roared with every swing. She hurled herself at the rotting masses, tearing and burning, every strike a declaration that she would not yield.

Then—she saw it.

Above the din, beyond the chitter and clash of her swarm, her eyes locked on the foul pools bubbling across the battlefield. Thick, tarry muck seethed, and from its depths, the rot creatures clawed their way into the world.

Her spines flared, heart hammering with triumph. Yessss. Yessss! The pools were always hard to find, hidden beneath layers of decay and filth. But here they were, uncovered, exposed. The source of the endless tide.

She raised her claws skyward, chitin humming with the raw resonance of the void. Above the pool, space buckled and folded, a black sphere coalescing with a low, bone-deep hum. Her swarm formed a living wall around her, defenders locking into place as the rot creatures hurled themselves forward in futility.

The orb pulsed, and the air shrieked.

The ichor coating the earth peeled upward as if gravity had reversed, streams of foul liquid tearing free from the ground and spiraling into the crushing heart of the spell. The pool itself began to warp, edges shivering and buckling, dragged toward annihilation.

The rot creatures crawling out were no better—half-formed things with dripping maws and writhing limbs seized mid-clamber, their screeches stretched thin as they were ripped apart. Bodies compacted to shards, shriveled to scraps, then vanished entirely into the sphere’s devouring heart.

Chrysanthemum’s arms shook as she fed more power into it, her mandibles clicking in strain. Every second the void swelled, the battlefield bent closer to collapse. Her defenders dug in harder, shields locked, claws drenched in gore, holding the tide back to give her the space she needed.

The orb gave a final pulse—and then imploded with a thunderclap, leaving nothing where the pool had once been but a gaping, glassy scar in the earth. The orb fell to the ground with a heavy thunk.

One less wound on her world.

There were more pools. Too many. Every time she destroyed one, another seemed to glisten in the distance, oozing and birthing more of the wretched rot. Still, she pushed forward, dragging another sphere of void into existence, tearing the blight from the earth. Her arms trembled, her carapace felt heavy, her wings dragged like lead behind her.

So tired. So very tired.

Her mind wandered in dangerous flickers. She thought of warmth, of pressing close to another, of soft arms wrapped around her instead of weapons, of face smushings and whispered affections. She wanted to curl up and forget this endless struggle, to sink into comfort and allow herself the sweetness she had denied for so long. To do the cuddles. To do the romance.

But duty always came first.

She clenched her mandibles and drove the thought away. The rot would not wait. It never tired, never slowed, never yielded. If she faltered, if she laid down her burdens, then her swarm would fall, her world would choke, her people would die screaming in the dark.

She no longer remembered the first battle she had fought against them. No longer remembered the day her claws were first stained with their ichor. Winters upon winters had passed in a blur of blood and voidlight. The memory of peace was gone, consumed by this unending war.

All that remained was the duty.

And she bore it, because she was queen.

Not just a queen—their queen.

The queen of the swarm.

Of her swarm.

And for them, she would bleed, she would endure, she would fight until her body gave out.

Until the rot was nothing but crushy orbs.

SupernovaSymphony

Yall she needs them cuddles so bad rn

Patreon Link if you want to read ahead (30 ahead for MoM. 3-5 ahead for other stories)

Also, discord if you wanna join

My Catalogue:

Mother of Midnight (Monster Reincarnation)
Metamoophosis (Urban Fantasy Transformation)
GlitterHex (MOTH BIMBO)
The Magnificent Miss Momentum (Superhero Comedy)
Swarm Queen just wants to find love! (Fantasy RomCom)
In this Void, We Make Home (HFY one shot I did a while ago)
Field Of Lillies (Lesbian Romance Fantasy)