ONE - HIVE - TACITURN PASSING
It was a cold day in Zetrezke, a fairly sizable Vespre hive. Almost too cold for one Pozak Neffezhim, though his body was mostly covered in the thick, vestigial bristles all of his kind had. Perhaps it was due to the night, soon coming to lay upon the twilight. It may have been the wind, cradled by tall, wax walls, barreling through the streets and between other bugs milling around. Regardless of its source, the chill made Pozak huddle himself up, compacting his respectable bulk. He almost regretted wearing a sleeveless shirt. Luckily, his destination wasnât far.
The warm lights of the library welcomed him. The scents of wood smoke, old books, and a hint of cold air on a wintry lake wafted past him. That last smell was the only one coming from a nonphysical source, though it was familiar to him. Some other bug, trained in the Vespre ways, was weaving some kind of spell. This was rather par for the course, as this library had the most respected magic collection for miles around. Pozak looked over at where it was coming from, and saw someone he only knew in passing being intently watched by someone he had never met.
The figure was of a kind that hardly ever stepped foot in these lands, but surely they werenât an exile. In their strong and pointed horn, their burning eyes, and perhaps something deeper within them, Pozak sensed something the bugâs kin could certainly never give up. This austere creature was of the bugs known as the Herecul, which typically stayed in the lands they had conquered, oceans away from Zetrezke.
So, overall, fairly strange for such a bug to be here. Herecul were rather territorial, and Pozak had never seen one up close before. But he was here for a reason, not just for people-watching. He moved on, not even seeing the strong, chitinous hand ominously resting on the Vespreâs shoulder. Pozak was looking for a very specific book, from a long time ago, from when the Queen was young. Before the time of anything he knew. It was less of a book and more of a set of blueprints. The Queen had drawn them herself, and her first set of spawn had helped her to build them. These blueprints held the designs for every building that made up Zetrezke, which were scattered across a half mile of forest.
He had requested this book to determine the layout of a particular hive: number 4. It was a bunker of sorts, built to be used in case of emergency. It was run-down and dilapidated now. It had been peaceful since the hive was constructed, and there had never been a disaster they couldnât handle since the Queen had fostered the innate magical talents of her spawn.
It was one of the oldest books in the collection, and it was stored in the very back. Pozak had made an appointment to get it, and it was only due to hours of sweet-talking that the librarians were letting him take it out. Nobody ever went into this part of the library, so it was an uneventful walk.
As Pozak left, the blueprints under his arm, he heard clinking behind him as somebody stood up and began walking. The cold wind was still biting at him when he left. The clinking stopped, and then he heard just one much closer, on his left.
âHey.â it said, in a low voice. Pozak very clearly saw the horn in his peripheral vision; it was the Herecul. âSo thatâs where that book was.â
Pozak turned, and moved backwards warily.
âI suppose it makes sense, that youâd be... afraid? No... alert.â From thin air, they drew a sturdy blade, pointing it at Pozak.. Something was off, though. From what Pozak knew of Herecul, their swords were typically in the shape of their horn, but this one was different. âGive me the book.âÂ
âAnd what if I donât?â Pozak began sequestering magic within him.
âKnow this, Vespre. I am Mestago Verezki. Deny me and face death. Hand it over.â Pozak tucked the book further under his arm.
âSo be it.â Mestago went still, and his breathing slowed.
Pozak felt an extraordinary pressure on his mind.
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