Morning came swiftly, casting golden rays through the cracks in the colony's upper tunnels. The worker ants scurried about, collecting resources from the surrounding land and deepening the existing tunnels, their legs moving in a seamless rhythm of tireless labor. Beneath them, the prisoner ants—thin, ragged, and covered in dust—hauled rare minerals from the mines, their bodies coated in a gritty layer that clung to their joints and stiffened their movements. The air in the mines was thick and damp, filled with the acrid scent of freshly carved earth, while the relentless scraping of pickaxes and the dull thud of collapsing soil echoed throughout the tunnels. Overseeing their work were the warden ants, their sharp eyes and stronger builds ensuring no escape attempts or signs of rebellion emerged from their ranks. The warden's heavy mandibles glinted under the sparse torchlights, a silent reminder of the consequences that awaited failure.
Seth, Commander and Chief Warden of the colony, sat alone in his chamber, surrounded by silence save for the occasional drip of condensation from the ceiling. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against the cool clay wall where he rested his head. His hands, clasped tightly together, trembled faintly before he loosened his grip, his fingertips brushing the hardened grooves of the wall as if seeking comfort in its texture. The faint musk of damp earth filled the chamber, grounding him in the present even as his mind, as always, wandered.
Since Ari appeared… we've faced more conflict than I ever imagined. Yet somehow, against all odds, he keeps aiding us. Reports say he's reckless—impulsive even—but no one can deny the results. Still… we've suffered.
His jaw clenched involuntarily as memories surfaced. He closed his eyes briefly, the weight of the past pressing down like a boulder strapped to his back.
Back then, I was just a lieutenant. We were strong… confident. But that battle changed everything. We lost more than ants—we lost hope. The grasshoppers crushed us and claimed our colony as their own, under the guise of trade. Food in exchange for peace, they said.
His fingers fidgeted, scraping softly against the clay, the rough grains scraping his calloused pads.
Our military was gutted. I was promoted to Commander by Queen Celeste, not because I was strong, but because I was one of the few survivors. But I was weak. That title didn't bring me strength at all. I wasn't worthy. The trauma of war had broken something in me. Within two months, I stepped down from military service. I couldn't bear it.
A bitter chuckle escaped him, but it came out cracked and hollow, like dry leaves crumbling beneath his weight.
They still call me Commander out of pity. To make me feel less like a coward. And after Vladimir betrayed us and vanished, we lost our only true commander. The colony is a shell of its former strength. But…
His gaze drifted to the faint light seeping through the entrance, his antennae twitching sluggishly.
"…something tells me growth is possible," he whispered aloud, his voice barely above a breath.
Elsewhere, Lily walked quietly through the colony, carrying a strip of food balanced on a piece of bark. The scent of the freshly gathered meal wafted up, sweet and earthy, but it did little to soothe the knot in her chest. Her steps were light but hesitant, the weight of her thoughts causing her antennae to droop slightly. She paused at the entrance of the recovery chamber, her fingers tightening around the bark until her knuckles paled, the wood biting into her skin.
How do I even talk to him? she wondered, thinking back to their argument just days ago. I'm not usually like this. Maybe I should just pretend nothing happened. Yeah… I'll just do it.
She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a long moment as if bracing for impact, then stepped inside.
"Good morning, Ari," she said softly, her voice trying to sound casual. "I hope you're hungry. I brought you something to—"
Her words stopped short. The bark slipped from her trembling fingers and landed with a dull thud. Her chest tightened, heartbeat racing, her breath coming out in shallow gasps as her eyes darted frantically across the room.
"He's gone…?"
Panic ignited in her veins, searing through her like wildfire. She spun sharply, nearly stumbling as she bolted through the tunnels, the cold air scraping her throat as it rushed past her. Her antennae snapped to attention in alarm. Her breath was ragged, and each step pounded painfully through her body as she tore through the winding passages, her legs burning with strain as she forced herself to go faster, faster, heading straight for the meeting hall where Queen Celeste, the elders, and Commander Anastasia were already deep in conversation about their next move—negotiating for Tanya's release from the grasshoppers' custody.
Outside the chamber, Beatrice stood with her arms crossed, her stance solid and composed despite the tension hanging in the air. Her antennae twitched sharply as she caught the rapid footsteps approaching.
"Lily? What's wrong?" Beatrice asked, her voice calm but laced with growing concern.
"It's Ari," Lily gasped, her chest heaving as she struggled to speak. "He's gone."
Beatrice's eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief flashing across her face before her body tensed, her shoulders stiffening like coiled rope. "He managed to leave? In that condition?"
"I checked everywhere. He's not in the colony anymore."
Beatrice's fingers curled into tight fists, her pulse thudding heavily in her ears as she turned toward the chamber without hesitation, her feet pressing hard against the ground as if trying to steady herself.
"Then we have to tell Anastasia. Now."
Minutes later, both stood before the commander. Lily's breath still came unevenly, her arms pressed tightly to her sides, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she explained everything, her voice trembling but steady enough to deliver the message.
"I already knew Ari would go after the princess," Anastasia said after a pause. Her voice was calm, but her shoulders bore a subtle stiffness, betraying the weight pressing on her. She traced slow, deliberate circles over the back of her hand, a silent effort to keep herself grounded. "It was only a matter of time."
"But in his condition, he wouldn't even make it past the first checkpoint," Beatrice said. Her lips thinned, a pulse visibly ticking in her neck. Her breathing came tight, each word exhaled with sharp precision. "Even if he were fully recovered, it'd be suicide."
Anastasia nodded slowly, her fingers tracing idle patterns against her arm, the slight pressure grounding her as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. "I'm sure he knows that. But Ari is… well, Ari. He's stubborn and reckless, but he has a fire in him. He'd charge into death itself for something he believes in."
Beatrice's jaw tightened, her breathing shallow as the weight of the risk settled over her. "If he marches on Hopper's fortress, he could die. And worse, it could shatter the deal we made with the grasshoppers. They'll retaliate, and the colony—"
"I know," Anastasia interrupted gently, her hand lifting in a soft but firm motion, her palm briefly trembling before she steadied it. "I know what's at stake. That's why I don't think he's going to Hopper. Not yet. He knows he's too weak. He'll train first, heal, and bide his time."
Lily swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat straining, as she played with the hilt of her mandibles, her thumb stroking the worn grip in a desperate attempt to soothe herself. "So what do we do?"
Anastasia's gaze drifted to the wall, her antennae rising slightly as if reaching beyond the room. "We help him."
"What?" Beatrice blinked, her weight shifting in surprise, her balance faltering just briefly.
"I've given it thought. Our chances of winning are near zero. But I'm tired. Tired of handing over food we worked ourselves to the bone to gather. Tired of living in fear. Tired of watching our people suffer."
Anastasia looked at them with fierce determination, her shoulders squaring as if the decision had physically braced her spine.
"I don't have the Queen's approval. This mission might fail. But I'm asking you both: will you help me destroy the grasshoppers once and for all?"
The silence that followed was heavy, stretching like a taut thread between them. Lily and Beatrice exchanged glances, their features shadowed in hesitation and brewing resolve. The faint tapping of Lily's nails against her mandible's hilt echoed softly in the stillness.
"I'm not forcing anyone," Anastasia continued, her fingers clenching briefly against her side before relaxing. "Take time. Think it over. And don't speak of this to anyone. I'll look into possible allies in the meantime."
As the discussion ended, Isla found herself sitting alone at the edge of the training field, her legs drawn close to her chest, her antennae limp and unfocused as she stared ahead. The soft breeze ruffled the fine hairs along her arms, the faint scent of crushed grass lingering in the air.
Across from her, Rory struggled under the weight of a heavy rock strapped to his back. His legs shook violently, muscles taut and straining, each breath a harsh, ragged draw that burned his throat as he staggered forward. Sweat glistened on his chitin, dripping onto the soil beneath his feet.
"Tired already?" Brooks barked, his stance wide, arms folded across his chest, his eyes sharp beneath his heavy brow.
"No… I'm not done yet!" Rory growled, his teeth gritted so tightly his jaw ached as he dug his feet into the soil, the rough dirt scraping against his pads. "I won't give up. I will get stronger!"
Brooks grunted approvingly, the faintest nod betraying his satisfaction. "That's what I like to see."
Isla watched silently, her chest tightening until it almost ached. Her mandibles pressed lightly against each other, her arms hugging her legs as if she could somehow compress herself small enough to vanish. The dust and crushed grass clung to her skin, the sharp scent anchoring her in the moment.
Rory is pushing himself so hard. He's afraid too—I know he is. But he's moving forward anyway. Me? I froze when the grasshoppers appeared. I couldn't even breathe. But Ari… he stood his ground. Even knowing he couldn't win, he attacked them. Not because he thought he'd succeed—but because someone had to try.
She looked at her trembling hands, the fine tremors making her fingertips quiver visibly. The slight sting of grass cuts traced the edge of her palms, a faint but persistent reminder of her hesitation.
He's probably already out there, planning a rescue. Rory's preparing himself too so that he'll be able to help Ari. And me… I can't just sit here and be afraid. I have to help. I have to fight.
With a deep breath that filled her lungs and steadied the trembling in her arms, she pushed herself to her feet. The ground felt firmer beneath her now, the coarse texture of the soil grounding her, her posture slowly straightening as if the weight on her shoulders had lightened, even if only slightly.
"I'll get stronger," she whispered to herself, the words brushing softly past her lips, carried by the morning breeze. "I won't let them fight alone."