The System


    Were it but simple. This war had never been straightforward, always filled with complications. Each development merely presented new peculiarities. The Errant infection within refused to recede, Rai’Sei wandered after his own desires and the core worlds had been depopulated. Chaos reigned, yet order grew - as did Altica. Not the System, but his true self, what was left of it at least.


    His power accumulated steadily. A stable status quo fueled the only true resource needed, time. Reserves burned and the disarray within his soul approached structure. The First City stirred with his winged world alight. It evoked resignation from the old, determination from those in between and even excitement from the new. They expected the same as always before; a campaign unbalanced and impossible, but winnable in theory.


    The Errant held the upper hand, yet their leaders hid. The burden of defense laid on sentient life, yet forced it on the offensive. His presence held the potential to shift the balance, yet he had none. An enemy with powers unknown compounded the problem. They regrew and evolved, relentlessly. It was a stalemate of the most twisted kind. Infinite time juxtaposed against infinite… something – or perhaps everything – and neither truly capable of deciding anything.


    Situations like these traditionally called for a decisive battle but in the realm of the transcendent, such a thing existed not. Thus, the war waged on. Children died, Ascendant rose, reality stressed. Another piece fell into place within and provoked a certainty. Change was coming.


    Soon.


    Mother


    She had her piece. She had her place. She had her system. All of it was ready for her test. The last she planned first, then the second and finally the first. They took care of the rest, they always did. It was so easy.


    She only needed a taste, a vessel and a prize. For the temptation she chose power, for the carrier whomever and for the goal the simplest of all, home. And then everything dies.


    So easy! So fun! It was the best way to pass the time, not boring at all, not anymore.


    Sneaky-mother


    Unusual – the champion ignored the presented trail. Instead it intended a visit to the barrier worlds. There was nothing to gain from such an act. She suspected sentiment as the cause and disappointment for the effect. This one always proved unpredictable to an extent. It was perhaps one of the many reasons for the champion’s effectiveness, if raw power wasn’t enough then only resourcefulness remained, resourcefulness and skill. Of either, it had plenty. Inaction weighed.


    Ennui – there was nothing to do. No demands were to be exceeded, no expectations were to be overcome, and no dangers lurked within reach. These circumstances invited complacence but she had not survived since the beginning by allowing herself to be lulled. When presented with no chores or tasks to complete, it merely meant the next steps were due. For once however, there were none. Even perpetual objectives had been revoked. So she worked on her own.


    Reflection – how had it come to this? The others experienced something similar. When only waiting mattered, the restless feared. A lack of guidance removed opportunities for failure as like for success. When continued existence rested on a whim, all were motivated. In war only those who fought earned their merits. When everything hinged on her plans, they found a source for blame, her. Yet she thrived with her favor. The others could rot, even further. It was inevitable.


    Hesila


    A sight interrupted a ready rhythm and relentlessly rushing air. Petrified woods slowly edged over the horizon. Closer, ossified trees grew out of broken bedrock and signaled home, or at least a measure of predictability, a letting down of the guard. Unlike the first visit, none had accosted me on the way there and back. Some would have, had they known of my presence. The path to the west remained free of conflict but not of patrols. They reeked of anticipation. All knew what was to come, all reliant on the heretic’s choices - and our own, of course. My steed slowed, dissipating.


    It crumbled away, leaving me to complete the journey on foot. The timing coincided with the patterned circling of the Rhoq watcher. There were two, alternating between each other every fifth of a cycle. This one preferred concealed over open terrain. He kept to the task, observed us and recorded everything. The other had an agenda of her own. She strutted and paraded in sight of all, challenging and provoking, but never attacking. Whatever leashed her, she remembered. The Holy One cared for neither. Ah, there he is.


    The watcher noticed my approach. His exposed feathers ranged from hues of blue to green, supposedly blessed by the open sky. They know nothing of true blessings. He was always encased in winged armor, always shielded from interpretation and always available for a talk.


    “Hail,” I said while leaning against a jutting shard of stone, “have you not yet finished marking your circle? Soon you will run out of steps to retrace.”


    Brow-feathers betrayed what a full helmet concealed, twitching slightly through the gaps, as if in welcome. “Greetings, Assassin. Oh? Perhaps you would care to provide me a distraction, something to change the pace? A challenge? News from your travels? I would welcome either, it has been some time.”


    “You know my name, use it. Regardless, if you so wish to know, why not see for yourself? Surely you have gained some understanding of spycraft by now. Dogging our people when they are alone and pressuring them for answers through conversation can only go so far.”


    The watcher walked near, coming too close for comfort. “Yet here you are,” he said, “doing much the same. Like for like, then?”


    Instead of bearing the petty intimidation, I strolled towards our city, forcing him to follow and listen from behind. “Hmpf. The west stretches empty for some distance, but a settlement thrives beyond. Humans, again. They have liberated territory and work towards exploiting it, for all the good it will do them. Most of their strength rests in organization, but they know as little as the other four cities of their kind, and thus barely benefit. How fares the field?”


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    “Our leader ceased pressing his advantage, electing a measured approach for now. The scouts unified their reports shortly before my latest departure. It is a wondrous thing, how we can be surrounded yet completely unfazed. It expands our honor, do you not think?”


    I turned and faced him. “You diminish mine and your own, straying from promises. Like for like, you said. Tell of something new. Rhoq’eau’s whims interest me not.”


    The watcher folded talons behind back, their sign of surrender. Mock surrender. “Always so abrasive, I was merely teasing. Your so called heretics have ceased their raids into the human settlement, we suspect they are consolidating. The mysteries around the far northern front have been resolved. A hive pushes south, catching the humans between us and them.”


    Now it was my turn to invade his space. “Hivers? You intend to let them be?”


    “For now,” he said. Yet his voice implied some unease. Calculated, or true?


    “As you act towards us, then.” The Rhoq’s silence disarmed my query. In refusing to speak, he condemned my probe for how it strayed from our agreement. Of others, yes - of ourselves, only when irrelevant. I continued, “What of the human relations between each other?”


    The talons returned while feathers flattened against armor. “You are the one overstepping now. To first complain of unfairness and then reciprocate it… For one who claims honor, you are quick to incite the neglect of duty.”


    Like for like, and venom for venom. “And yet you always demand my share first, prioritizing your own. Enough of this, the western ones conquered a bastion and slew a Greatbeast.” Worthwhile knowledge, but dated even during my first visit.


    Now this was true. The watcher had been taken aback. Theatrics and posturing were forgotten, replaced by a rigid upright stance, telling of warriors and discipline. “I stand corrected,” he said, “or perhaps you overcompensate. They are a strange people, communal yet independent. All their settlements pursue trade, share similarities and even exchange frequent communications amongst each other, yet they do not band together. It is most kind of them to provide such ample caravans to raid. Bah, you are owed. There is nothing else of note.”


    I left and spoke over my shoulder, “Noted. Until we meet again, and tell the other to behave.”


    He resumed his endless route, bridging the distance with a cry to my back. “Hah! I have no desire to be crippled by Kra’e. She is incensed with her punishment, but dares not challenge Rhoq’eau for a reversal. You would show wisdom by steering clear of her. But I digress, ‘til next we meet. I do so enjoy our discourse.”


    I did not.


    With the woods left behind, home came into view. The elegance was kind on the eyes, elevated by the contrast with our previous situation. Stone spires towered high on five corners while long arches connected them. Instead of ordering walls built below the curves, his grace left them open, with purpose. Always with purpose. The peons thought it a statement to highlight the change. In the past, we had been confined. Now, nothing truly confined our people.


    But the rest of us had been given an inkling of what it meant. Every morning, his grace walked their full length. Every evening, he did the same. Many more spires were scattered about our holy city, always with arches connecting them to others. Layers upon layers, higher and higher. He walked them all. Every tracing of the walkways laid a foundation all its own. Every foundation stacked unto the last. If - or perhaps when - the need arose, an artful open city could be transformed into an unassailable bastion.


    Fueled by power, his.


    A hiveborn worker


    I directed the other workers. “Three into the pits, the rest into storage.”


    Chitinous walls carved gaping holes into the landscape. Three bodies were flung inside, subsumed within moments by the writhing mass of young.


    The breeding pits were full, sustained by our conflict with the new species. It was all the soldiers and princes talked about during festival days. Corpses were simply left behind, as if they were of no consequence. The fools. Such was cause for humor, yes. But the hilarity peaked when no rescues were mounted for the captured, nor were methods of suicide available to the doomed. Cruel fools, but it is to our benefit.


    My next task was to take inventory. Marvel entranced me along the way, sparked by the sheer efficiency on display. Passive excretions transformed featureless dirt into road, of the same brown black chitin as all our structures. Then it was only a matter of attunement. Simple and proof of our superiority, proof of our kinship with energy, to make magical the mundane when already affixed. Only my destination diverged in design. A domed stone structure provided strength, iron contained those within and leather muffled the sound.


    Hints of screaming escaped the isolated chambers still. Normally it fell to my subspecies to serve as living growth-hosts. All had feared the elder mind’s decree, to mobilize and expand our armies. Slow, painful death awaited the chosen. Yet we were spared by the ignorance of our enemies. What joyous circumstance. Thus, rather than one of our own, a captive hosted a swarm instead, a swarm battled itself within, and warriors led by a prince emerged from the aftermath. A cacophony of suffering accompanied my removal of the barrier to peek inside. Promising, twin princes in one of them. Our ranks swelled.


    Only ten regenerations of patterning crowded my lenient schedule, after which my time was my own. My partner arrived in tandem at the entrance and we traversed underground together. The previously hostile tunnels resisted dismantling, but not for long, never for long. Chitin replaced stone and it felt like home. A bulbous chamber invited us in, to take seat and work - for the hive.


    Despite the difficulty, my thoughts strayed. Unfortunately the warrior from whom I sourced the copy was still too young to maintain focus amidst debate or speculation. It would have been more interesting to explore the elder’s thoughts, or perhaps the possibilities of the future. Instead, reviewing the past sufficed out of necessity.


    I had questioned one of the princes on matters of strategy. No secrets existed within the hive. We were to perpetuate the conflict, gorging all the while. There was no reason to rush. The answer to how many legions we needed always stayed the same. More. It was an ancient routine resurrected. Fill the pits. Store the extras. Hear the screams. Repeat forever, until the elder commands otherwise. A mind could have chafed from living this way, yet we acted in harmony.


    It was unusual, how all had fallen into place upon our arrival. Space was bountiful, Errant were weak, and resources were abundant. The discord of dissent made way for silent unification. In purpose, we found peace. In duty, we found honor. In our enemies, we found answers to internal strife. An eternity confined us, and now we had been released. Even our own chains promised to disappear. A worker, Ascendant. Cheap perhaps, but it is more hope than I ever had. What next, I wonder? When, I wonder? Ah, done.


    The warrior maintained stillness even in between one pattern finishing and beginning work on the next. Scent interrupted our labor. A general assembly? Address the hive? New orders then, to be repeated until the next. We hurried, the warrior far outpacing me. Upon reaching the great cavern, the elder herself tunneled through high above, shedding chips of dug rock and pleasure infused nectar alike. None indulged. A sense of foreboding pervaded from the now damaged ceiling, as if the elder tested our patience and discipline.


    She spoke, “Heed me, my spawn. Your efforts inspire pride, thus they deserve reward. We go to war. First, you will march north and eliminate the threat. Second, we sweep the south entirely.” Gentle drips of sensation incarnate accelerated into a thin stream, and then a downpour. “Drink deeply. I pay the price for future pain in pleasure now.”


    Chaos ensued. It was bliss.