The cavern convulsed as a series of sharp, percussive detonations exploded in the chamber, the combined force ripping through the darkness like thunder, followed by the satisfying sound of popping eggs. Acrid smoke billowed, mingling with the foul stench of ruptured shell, just as the air filled with a sound more dreadful than any scream. The cave shuddered, its walls groaning. Not from the violence of the blast, but rather from movement. A sense of dreadful certainty settled over Momel… There was something else down here, something he had realized too late…eggs...the eggs! Maybe running away was the better part of valor. He started to turn to where the exit was located as time fractured into ragged, frantic heartbeats as a deafening shriek erupted from above. A monstrous, unnatural wail that shook the very marrow of his bones, turning the chamber into a cathedral of terror. The stone columns reverberating the sound, echoing it back upon itself in an endless, primal cry that coursed down the twisting tunnels like a summons. The silence that followed sent shivers down his spine as the eerie calm lasted but a moment forging a cacophony of hisses, chittering and the clacking of mandibles that increased in an ever-rising tide of insectile responses. Panic fluttered behind his eyes as shadows moved in every which direction, writhing with malice, as the swarm surged forth from fissures and cracks, bursting forth with an unstoppable momentum.

  Instinct drives him forwards. His sabatons slipping on the slick stone, lungs burning from the foul, septic air. Momel’s bladed staff swung through the air, slicing neatly through an approaching critter in a satisfying spray of luminous blue ichor as he aimed for the tunnel’s entrance. Momel's dual hearts thundered in his chest like storm-swept waves crashing against a reef, his sabatons pounding the jagged cavern floor as the swarm surged behind him, a writhing mass of chitinous horrors, each the size of a small predatory mammal, their mandibles clacking with insatiable hunger. The air hummed with their skittering legs and piercing shrieks, a chorus that drowned out his ragged breaths. His coral-forged armor, lightweight, iridescent and shiny like the underside of a seashell, flexed with every desperate stride, its organic plates shifting seamlessly to allow unhindered motion, whilst the cloth wrappings trailed behind him. But flight alone wouldn't save him; the insects were closing in, their numbers blotting out the dim bioluminescent glow of the cave walls.

  He spun on his heel, the bladed staff, a gleaming extension of his will, forged from razor-sharp abyssal alloys, whirling to life in his four clawed hands. The weapon's twin edges sang through the air, a symphony of death as Momel became a vortex of martial fury. With intricate precision born of years of training and fending off creatures out in the wilds, he swept the staff in a figure-eight pattern, his upper arms guiding the lethal arc while the lower ones stabilized and thrust. The first wave of insects lunged, their segmented bodies glistening with venomous slime, but Momel's strike cleaved through three in a single fluid motion, chitin shattering like brittle shells. Bright blue ichor sprayed in viscous arcs that splattered his armor in foul, slimy fluids. Limbs twitched and severed heads rolled as insectile innards spilled out in steaming piles as Momel pressed forward, a river of sharpened steel flowing against the tide.

  Desperation drove his every move; there was no room for error in this heart-stopping frenzy. An insect leaped for his throat, its pincers snapping inches from his exposed neck. Momel twisted, his staff pivoting in a winding spin, the upward spiral bisecting the beast mid-air, its halves tumbling wetly to the ground amid a shower of entrails. Momel kept the momentum flowing, stepping through the squelching remains that still twitched and spasmed on the caverns floor. He parried another with a downward chop, the blade embedding in the creature’s thorax with a sickening crunch, then yanked it free in a spray of gore, using the motion of his swing to eviscerate two more that scrabbled at his legs. His ranger heritage shone through in his agility, body undulating like a current-dancing eel, dodging swipes that scored shallow gashes across his coral plates. The swarm pressed relentlessly, their bodies piling up in mangled heaps, thoraxes rent open, legs hacked to stumps, abdomens bursting with each devastating sweep. Momel cut devastating swaths through them, a whirlwind of carnage, his staff leaving trails of dismembered foes in his wake as he battled toward the tunnel entrance, the narrow maw of salvation glowing faintly ahead as he saw the first sphere of light further down the tunnel.

  But as he reached the threshold, the realization hit like a tidal surge: the passage was a constricted vein of rock, too narrow for the staff's sweeping arcs. Insects swarmed at his back, their claws scraping stone in a frenzied pursuit. With a guttural growl of reluctance, he glanced at his prized possession, earned through a myriad of trials and tribulations, but even more than that, one heck of a walking stick. He released the staff, letting it clatter to the ground amid the twitching pile of corpses. No time for sentiment; survival demanded adaptation as another wave of assailants closed the gap towards him. His four hands darted to his belt, unsheathing the quartet of cleavers, short, brutal blades honed to fillet the mightiest of prey.

  Now he was a whirling meat grinder of death, plunging into the tunnel's choking confines. The cleavers danced in a blur of synchronized savagery, upper arms slashing high to decapitate leaping assailants while lower ones hacked low at scrambling legs. An insect barreled into him, mandibles sinking into his shoulder. Pain flared bright and hot, but Momel roared like a cornered animal, driving a cleaver through its eye socket with a wet pop, twisting until brains oozed like jelly. He pressed upward, the tunnel a slaughter chute slick with pulverized remains: chitin fragments crunching underfoot, ichor coating the walls in dripping sheets, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the acrid burn of venom. Bodies piled behind him, a grotesque dam of mangled forms, abdomens split wide, spilling glistening organs; heads crushed to pulp; limbs sheared in ragged sprays. Each step was a desperate grind, the swarm's weight bearing down, forcing him to carve a path inch by bloody inch. His dual hearts hammered in unison, fueling the frenzy as claws raked his armor, drawing blue-tinged blood from superficial wounds. Would he breach the surface, or would the depths claim him? The tunnel narrowed further, the shrieks echoing louder, but Momel fought on, a tempest of blades in the dark, clawing for each step that would reveal the next sphere of light along his pathway.

  Still the swarm poured after him, scores of the little monsters scrambling for a chance to take a bit at this intruder who dared to breach the sanctity of their dominion, fueled by the overwhelming instinct to protect the nest at all costs. A living current of insects that flooded the passageways in a writhing mass of legs and mandibles. Momel’s cleavers flashed in the gloom, carving through the vanguard, but for each creature that was felled, it seemed a legion rose to replace it. Throwing their bodies against him, only to be broken apart beneath the fury of his blades. Their viscous blood spattering his attire as the ichor started to congeal in the grooves and joints of his armor. Momel could feel the crusting resin stiffening, causing his movements to need more effort. These we’re just dumb creatures. They were purposefully weighing him down with each sacrifice, deducing it as the reason why they didn’t slow their advance. There were just too many to contend with as more of the creatures flooded the tunnels with incalculable numbers, some even crawling along the ceiling of the tunnel to get to him. It became impossible to focus on all the moving pincers and claws aimed towards him and Momel made a desperate attempt to swing at an attack to his side, only to feel the sharp sting of the creatures mandibles, sinking into his arm… enough to make him scream in pain as the cleaver he held there slipped from his numbed grip, disappearing between the attackers. Momel swung his arm hard against the wall of the tunnel, the insect latched to his arm bursting in a splat of gore that clung to his arm as he flicked the dead thing away. The situation was turning more dire by the moment and Momel knew that if he didn’t do something soon, he would be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers piling up against him. He glanced behind him, spotting the next sphere of light lying a way off, but at least he was still moving in the right direction, so with one hand now free, he reached behind his back, fingers curling around the familiar shape of the handle located there. Momel twisted the handle until it clicked free from its holster. In one fluid motion, Momel performed a tactical maneuver, jumping backwards to provide him with the needed space to move as he swung the heavy weapon from behind his back, landing with his feet planted, arm extended, the heavy barrel pointed at the swarming tide before him. Momel tilted his head to the side as he sighted down the weapon… not that it mattered. When the firing mechanism struck true, a mighty boom rocked the surrounding walls of the tunnel, causing rock to crack and shale to splinter away from the force of the discharge. Before him, the shot blasted a path through the swarming insects, vaporizing those closest and liquifying those unlucky enough not to have been in the front. For a moment there was silence in the tunnel, the horde had been shaken… not suspecting this amount of force to be used against them. Momel took a deep breath, racking another round into the chamber of the boom stick. Then they came again, relentlessly clambering over the oozing remains of their fallen kin. With slow deliberate steps, he aimed and fired down the tunnel, the devastation turning the tunnel into a glowing blue hell scape that dripped and oozed down the sides of the tunnel and still they came as shot after shot rang out, adding to the heaps of dead insects. There numbers were seemingly endless, with a hunger for vengeance that would not be denied. A single thought kept echoing through Momel’s mind, ‘I have to get out.’ He knew he couldn’t stop, not now.

  The dim glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the tunnel walls flickered like dying stars, casting erratic shadows that danced across the damp, earthen confines. The air grew thick, heavy with a fetid musk, a cocktail of rotting vegetation and the acrid tang of venom-laced saliva, as the ground began to tremble. A low, resonant hum vibrated through the rock, building to a crescendo of scraping chitin and crunching soil, heralding her arrival. From the yawning maw of a side passage, she emerged: the Insectoid Queen, a colossal abomination, forged from the deepest pits of the abyss, a nightmare incarnate. Her body, swollen to grotesque proportions from the burden of still forming eggs, spanned the tunnel's width like a living excavator, her segmented abdomen pulsating with rhythmic contractions that sent undulating ripples through her translucent, veined underbelly. Pale blue ichor oozed from the seams where her bloated form pressed against the walls, adding to the already gruesome spectacle of dead creatures, leaving slick trails that bubbled faintly upon contact with the stone, as if slowly melting the substrate of rock, minerals and sediment deposits.

  Her head was horrifically armored, crowned with jagged, asymmetrical horns that curved like the vicious thorns of the claw vine, scraping furrows into the ceiling as she forced her way forward. Compound eyes, each a mosaic of thousands of glittering black facets, bulged from her skull, reflecting the faint light in a kaleidoscope of predatory hunger, predatory eyes that could detect the slightest twitch of prey in utter darkness, unblinking and merciless. Below them, her mandibles clacked open, revealing rows of serrated, hook-like fangs that dripped with viscous strands of paralyzing toxin, harvested from glands located inside the protective carapace of her own venomous body. Those jaws, powerful enough to shear through bone as easily as a Cuba beetle crushes bark, ground together in anticipation, producing a wet, grinding rasp that echoed like bones being pulverized.

  Her legs, eight in total, thick as a man's thigh and armored with spiny barbs reminiscent of an arachnid's spiny hairs, propelled her onward in a constant, inexorable crawl. They bent and flexed with hydraulic precision, the joints creaking under her immense weight, while hooked claws at their tips gouged deep into the tunnel floor and walls for purchase. As she squeezed through the narrowing passage, her exoskeleton groaned in protest, plates of iridescent green and brown chitin—textured like the rugged carapace of a rhondo beetle, flexing and buckling slightly, shedding flakes of hardened shell that pattered to the ground like falling leaves in a storm. Behind her, the queen's bulbous abdomen dragged, its tip curling upward like a shinga's tail, tipped with a cluster of ovipositors that twitched and probed the air, ready to implant her legacy into any suitable host. The sheer mass of her form displaced clods of earth, causing mini avalanches that buried the smaller creatures in her wake, while her pheromonal aura, a choking cloud of dominance and fertility, wafted around her, sapping the will of any who inhaled it, turning brave hearts to quivering muck.

  Inch by inexorable inch, she advanced towards her target. Momel felt frozen in the gaze of this impossible creature, now mere feet away. The tunnel seemed to shrink around her, amplifying the symphony of her approach: the scrape of spines, the drip of venom, the pulse of her engorged form. She was nature's apex predator incarnate, a queen not of sleek terror but of raw, primal grotesquery, and in that confined hell, there was no escape from her embrace. Then a voice like death wrapped in a velvet veneer, pierces his mind. Incomprehensible as if running every known variable of speech like an oily stain that spread along his mind, until his eyes grew large with recognition as this unsightly horror spoke… in his native tongue.

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  ‘Silly… silly, worm. Look at what you have done. They were my children, and you took them from me… I will enjoy feasting on all you hold dear.’

  And then it lunged, hooked tentacles aimed at Momel. In what could only be described as fear induced clarity, he pivots to the side, focusing his strength and movement on thwarting the ambush aimed at him. The queen roared in anger as the hunter barely managed to evade her clutches by darting a few steps back. Momel lifted the boom stick, now levelled at the creature’s head at point-blank range that would end this nightmare before it could even start. His finger squeezed the lever that would fire the weapon, but the anti-climactic click of the firing pin thundered impotently in the confined space. Momel’s face turned ashen grey as the realization of the weapons malfunction registered in his mind along the with the knowledge that he was now well and truly buggered. The silence that followed was broken by the low rumbling sound of laughter emanating from the queen’s misshapen maw. His breath was labored, lungs burning from the smell of pheromones in the air, making his head feel woozy. He knew he was in trouble, throwing caution to the wind as he turned and started sprinting headlong along the pathway he had marked with the light spheres, hoping to gain some space because of the obstruction caused by the queen’s body. It was time to get out… now. Along dark tunnels and outcroppings he made his way, almost getting turned around in some places, if not for the beckoning lights of the spheres pointing the way. There was no turning back, and nowhere to hide in this underground labyrinth, not with the hope of evading these creatures.

  Her voice sounded disturbingly calm in his mind. ‘We will find you silly worm.’ Cold fear gripped Momel’s heart in an icy embrace. He had made a terrible mistake in coming here. His mind drifted to Ahatchi, standing against the frame of the door to their abode. Her hands slowly rubbing her swollen bump, their child… his… child. He knew he had to do something. He knew these creatures couldn’t be stopped, but maybe he could slow them down. Momel increased his speed as a crazy idea started to formulate in his mind. It was a crazy, probably suicidal… but what choice did he have, for it was he that kicked the nest after all. After what felt like an eternity he reached it, the chamber with the macabre bridge. Momel was unsure of the time he had to spare, all he could do was hope that the immense body of the queen was blocking the passage for the smaller, more swift creatures trying to get to him. The thunderous cascade of water from the falls were drowned out by the intense thumping of blood in his ears. There was no time to reconsider, no time for slow and steady as he approached the sheer cliff edge where the bridge of forgotten remains loomed before him. With a swift execution, he stowed his remaining cleavers in their sheaths before lowly retrieving the remaining explosives from his belt. His mind wasting precious moments to visualize the impossibility of what he was about to attempt. Kneeling, Momel thrusts the three grenades together into the cavities of carapace formed by the bodies of the fallen insectoids. The slow glowing pulses indicating their armed status and with zero hesitation, he pushes off in a mad dash to cross the endless depths of the gorge below him. His feet miraculously finding footing as he spared as little time possible on traversing the span. Momel’s heart sank into his chest as he heard the telltale screeching of the insect swarm behind him, but it was the slow rising whine that sent chills down his spine as he realized what was about to happen. He was out of time and there was way too much bridge left to cross, so Momel did the only thing that came to mind… he jump. As high as his fatigued legs could muster, pulling his limbs into a ball just as the devices detonated behind him. Squeezing his eyes shut as best he could, he held firm the smiling memory of his loved ones as the brunt of the blast impacted him from behind, shoving him with tremendous force. Momel screamed as his body flew, he couldn’t bare take a look and so when he struck the opposite wall of the cavern, knocking the wind from his lungs and dropping him down hard onto the walkway. Agonizing pain flared throughout his banged up framed and yet he still lived. Slowly he opened his eyes as the world around him spun from dizziness. With an effort, he pushes himself to his knees, looking out over the expanse where a cloud of dust was still hanging in the air, slowly dissipating. Momel got to his feet as the billowing cloud of dust finally settled, revealing the impossible… a huge section of the bridge was gone. A great cry of victory escaped from his lips as a flicker of hope ignited in his chest. He made it, he could reach the village, report back, they could prepare, they… could… … …

  Momel watched in horror as a stream of insects started to scale the opposite wall of the cavern, up to the ceiling, scores of them blanketing the rock face. Some were also starting to reform the bridge they had made, their bodies locking in place like scaffolds as they started to extend over the gorge towards the left over nub of the old bridge and there in the midst of the writhing mass of insects, he saw the familiar shape of the queen slowly enter the cavern, her gaze locked firmly on him as she directed her minions with devastating efficiency. Momel didn’t hesitate for a second as he turned to the exit and disappeared down the tunnel. He could make it, he was sure he could if he just pressed on, one glowing sphere at a time. The hunter’s hearts pounded in his chest, the rhythmic beat almost drowning out the chittering, clicking sounds that echoed through the cavernous labyrinth. He had made the mistake of underestimating the depths of the nest and the ferocity of its inhabitants. It was clear now that this was no ordinary species, no simple insect colony. The hive had a mind, a pulse, an intelligence. And it was coming for them all.

  His legs burned from the frantic sprint back toward the entrance, his breath shallow and quick as his pulse raced. The floor beneath him seemed to undulate, as if the very earth itself was alive and shifting, reacting to the swarm’s approach. He dared not look back, for he knew what awaited him in the shadows. The queen’s eyes, glowing with an ancient fury, were fixed on him now. She had been the one to let out the shriek, summoning the swarm from every crack and crevice down in that chamber. The very air was thick with the promise of death, and every step forward felt like a step towards oblivion. A high-pitched screech split the air from behind him, and he instinctively spun to face the oncoming wave. A mass of smaller creatures swarmed in a writhing, undulating mass, their exoskeletons shimmering like polished obsidian in the dim light. Their eyes, black and unblinking, seemed to reflect the light in an eerie, unnatural way. Momel swung his cleavers in wide arcs, cleaving through the first wave, but for each one he struck down, two more filled the gap. He barely had time to react before another swarm of creatures lunged from the walls, their sharp mandibles gnashing and snapping. His foot caught on a loose rock, and he stumbled, crashing to the ground.

  Pain flared in his shoulder as one of the creatures latched onto him, sinking its pincers deep into his armor. He gritted his teeth, tearing the creature free with a swift, brutal motion before pushing himself back to his feet. He could feel the venom surging in his blood as he started to panic. His mind raced. He needed to move, but the swarm was relentless. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air of the cave mixing with the heat of fear rising in his chest. He couldn’t outrun them, not with the queen so close. But then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. In the distance, through the darkened tunnel, he saw the faint outline of the cave entrance, the glimmer of natural light from the forest beyond beckoning him like a distant dream. Loud baying echoed from up ahead. The mount, his loyal companion, was still waiting outside, bellowing in frantic alarm as it paced near the entrance. Its large, wide eyes scanned the cave, recognizing the danger that now pressed in around its master.

  “Stay calm,” the hunter muttered to himself, gripping his cleavers tightly. He wasn’t out of options yet. His four hands worked in tandem, fending off attackers as best he could. He swung blindly behind him, slicing through an insectoid that came within reach. The creatures recoiled momentarily as if finally showing him the needed respect one would give an adversary, but still they were not deterred, sensing that Momel was running out of steam. Desperate now to get away, he broke into a run again, ignoring the shrill cries of the insects as they chased him. His feet skidded over the slick stone, but he pushed forward, vaulting over the uneven terrain. He could hear the swarm growing louder, the relentless scuttling and clicking growing nearer with each passing second.

  The walls of the cave seemed to close in around him as he sprinted through narrow passageways, his mind’s eye flashing with images of the queen’s glowing eyes, the terrifying shriek that still reverberated in his skull. He had to escape. He had to. The familiar scent of fresh air reached him just as he rounded the final bend. The cave entrance was just ahead. The poor animal was frantically calling for Momel, but he knew in his heart that he was not going to make it. With a heavy heart he made the only decision that could be made in the situation… he shouted, the words echoing down the final stretch of tunnel… “Ghira si essie tu ha uu!” The mount cocked its big head in silence, confused by an order that had never been given before… ‘Run, go home now!’… Momel shouted in frustration… “Ghira!” The gharba remained stationary. “GHIRA!... GHIRA!!!” His shrill rebuke alarmed the animal, forcing it to turn and bolt away. Momel sighed with relief as he stumbled the last few steps towards the safety of outside. The venom in his system had been taking effect, as he felt the toxins starting to dull his thoughts, his movements started to feel woolen, his limbs unresponsive, every step became shorter as he stumbled from one side of the tunnel to the other in the hopes of remaining upright. The creatures, sensing his demise, retreating from his reach slowly trailed behind him as if toying with his hope of escape. Momel stumbled, his footing giving out as he came down crashing hard onto the tunnel floor, losing two of his cleavers in the process. On instinct he rolled with the momentum of the fall, desperately trying to regain his feet, only to again tumble forward and meeting the dirt floor with an undignified thud. With what little determination he had, Momel stretched out one hand before him, his fingertips barely touching the edge of light that shone into the cave entrance… “So… close.” Off in the distance he could just make out the blurry shape of the gahrba struggling to crest the rim of the crater, and when the creatures form disappeared over the lip, he released a breath he didn’t notice he’d been holding.

  A deafening roar echoed through the cave, sending a fresh wave of panic through his chest. The queen. She had made her way to the entrance, bringing with her an army of her loyal brood. Her massive form loomed in the shadows; her grotesque body suspended by the same writhing tendrils that had birthed the hive. Her mandibles clicked hungrily, saliva dripping from her enormous mouth as her eyes fixed on him. Before he could react, the ground beneath him buckled once more. A tendril shot out from the earth, wrapping around his leg, lifting him into the air. The force of it sending him crashing to the roof of the tunnel, his body slamming painfully against the stone as he dangled there, suspended in her clutches. He grunted in pain as the tendrils tightened around him, pulling him back toward the heart of the hive. His arms flailed as he tried to free himself, his cleaver slipping from his limp grasp as the queen set him back down.

  The insects were upon him in an instant. A multitude of critters scurried over him, their chitinous bodies crawling over his limbs, pinning him to the ground. Their mandibles snapped as they clawed at his armor, seeking the flesh beneath. With a fierce growl, he lashed out with his remaining free limbs, ripping through the creatures with his bare hands as he tried to free himself from them. But they kept coming, their numbers endless. The queen’s screech filled the air, a high-pitched hiss, followed by a guttural growl that reverberated through the cave. She was there. Right… there. With his last remaining strength, Momel managed to twist his body free from the tendrils for a moment. His pulse thudded in his ears as he crawled toward the entrance, the swarm still crawling over him, tearing at his flesh as the last vestiges of hope slowly started dwindling as he kept on pulling his now weakened body across the rough terrain… and yet… maybe, just maybe he could make it. Another tendril snaked along the earth, this one wrapping around his torso, pulling him back toward the queen. The air grew thick with the buzzing of the insects, and the hunter could feel the weight of their collective presence closing in around him. His vision blurred, his limbs growing heavy from the toxins coursing through his system.

  For Momel, there was no more hope. No blessed savior that would rescue him from this nightmare. For now, hope too, was gone. The hunter’s breath came in ragged gasps, losing consciousness as the swarm began to drag him deeper into the hive, back down into the heart of the queen’s lair. Then he noticed one of the insects climb onto his torso, its tiny legs scratching at his skin, mandibles snapping hungrily. Momel noticed, past the rows of long needle-like fangs, that it was missing an antenna. The last thing he heard before passing out was the eerie, low hum of the queen’s voice, a sound so terrible it made his blood run cold.

  “Hello there… silly… worm.”

  And then, darkness.

  Now... onto the Chapter 1.

  I hope you are ready dear reader.

  Your friend

  Sam