The grove was silent after the battleāunnaturally so. The trees wept a thick, dark sap that smelled wrong, sour. Not like nourishment, but sickness.
Cinder-ant dipped an antenna into it and recoiled. āThis isnāt sap. Itās tainted.ā
From the gloom emerged a line of beetlesācarapaces dulled by decay, eyes sunken. At their head was a fungus-masked envoy.
āWe made a pact,ā the envoy croaked. āThe sap feeds us⦠and in return, we feed it.ā
Berry-leg stepped back. āYou fed on poison?ā
āPoison is power,ā whispered the envoy. āBut power always demands more.ā
The grove trembled.
From beneath the roots, something ancient stirred.
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