The First of Four

Gexla sat in her small dorm, reading by arti-light. Regular sunlight didn’t make it this far down in the hive. She shifted on her bed, the sheets rustling like dried parchment. Smells wafted through the tunnels, and she picked up a hint of roasted Jimori, a pig-like creature found in the forests near the citadel hive. Her eyes were constantly scanning as she read, the benefits of compound vision. Failure to observe the goings on around her could spell instant death. 

Gexla continued to read, the wood creaking beneath her weight as she shifted again. Gifted the book by Lord Drix himself, it was one of her most prized possessions. She had read the book cover to cover almost daily, searching for any hidden wisdom. Surely it had to contain some sort of hidden meaning if a Furor Lord had gifted her the book. Her thoughts turned from wisdom seeking to day dreaming. She imagined herself as a fierce warrior on the battlefield. Standing proud over a pile of Imbura corpses, she would be unstoppable. She shook her head, her carapace flushing deeply as she broke the daydream. 

“Little one... you shroud your thoughts behind shame. Why?” The voice echoed in her mind as if carried on an unseen breeze. It felt as if her mind was being swaddled in velvet and silk. She instantly froze, barely breathing. 

“Fear not little one, no harm shall pass to you. Not while I remain.” the voice whispered again. 

“Who are you?” Gexla whispered. Her voice shook slightly, betraying her fear again. 

“A traveler... an observer. I am known as Oriomos. But you, little one, may refer to me as Omos,” Oriomos replied. The feeling of silk enveloping her strengthened, trying to assuage Gexla’s fear. “You dream of blood and violence. I observed the end of those dreams. Tell me...why?

Gexla shifted again, slowly standing. Her antennae brushed the ceiling softly, reassuring her that she was still safely underground.

“It was a silly daydream. Nothing more,” she said. She had an air of confidence in her speech this time. 

“We workers, we sometimes dream of the glories had we had been born differently.”

Oriomos was quiet. Gexla wondered if this strange encounter was at an end, but something in her mind told her otherwise. Gexla’s eyes combed the room, drinking in the detail, straining to see what was unseen. Then they fixated on a central spot, her one and only possession. 

The mehj wood table in her room creaked and groaned, as if taking on an unimaginable weight. Gexla feared it would splinter into a thousand pieces, but the table did not buckle. The arti-light flickered, something that should have been impossible. Air rushed into the room, and Gexla felt a temperature shift with her antennae. 

And then he was there in her room. His body was that of a hawk, while his head was that of an owl. His eyes blazed and twinkled, and Gexla could almost imagine an entire galaxy being contained in those eyes. His wings stretched out, nearly filling the room, yet they had no substance. 

“I know war, little one. I have seen it tear apart an entire universe. My universe.”

Gexla shifted again, shrinking back down onto the bed. She could feel the sadness in those words.

“You must not know then. My kind was enslaved for thousands of years. We rebelled, and we have been at war ever since,” Gexla said. 

She became more confident in her words as she spoke, even though she sensed that Oriomos could erase her existence with no effort.

“War for us is second nature. It binds us together. Our race has prospered under war, and I do not fear it,” Gexla said.

Oriomos cocked his head at those words. He had never heard anyone revel in war before. It was a new sensation to him. It felt as if rage and curiosity were tangoing in his heart. One thought told him to destroy Gexla, the other to press her with more questions. Oriomos’ claws scratched at the small table, ripping small shreds off. 

“One day, you will know the horror of war, and your folly in perpetuating it.”

Gexla felt a sudden rush of air, the most she’d ever felt in her life. It forced her to shield herself from the gale suddenly engulfing the room, her eyes closed against the stinging wind. Then she felt dread. It crept up from her thorax, rooting her in place. She felt as if she would melt into the stone floor. Her breath caught in her lungs, as if life itself was being sucked out of the room. Then the feeling was gone, just as quickly as it had overwhelmed her. When she dared peek back out from under her arms, Oriomos had gone. The only sign of his presence being the whisper in her mind, and the small scraps of wood on the floor. She leaned in over the small table, running her claw over the coarse, unrefined mehj wood. Scars betrayed that she had even been visited that night.