Chrysalis

Rassan’tep looked back at the still burning mountain, his eyes gleaming with interest. The warmth he could feel, even from this distance, was pleasant on his scales, and he didn’t mind indulging himself in a little basking every now and again.

[Master, we should leave,] Ammon’sil urged him. [This place is not secure.]

The Old One flicked his tongue to taste the air. Smoke and ashes came through powerfully, expected, given the circumstances, but underneath was that vibrant riffle of energy and life so common in the fourth stratum.

The Colony would rebuild that mountain, he was sure. It likely wouldn’t even take long. With tens of thousands of mages to create and shape the rock, they’d be able to make it bigger and better than it had been before in a matter of weeks.

In attempting to push the ants down, the ka’armodo had only made them stronger.

He huffed in displeasure and the Set’sulah pulled back from him, concerned they had drawn his ire.

Hubris had been the downfall of many among the old races, and so it continued to be. The assumption that they were the highest, greatest and strongest on Pangera, simply by virtue of their birth, simply because they were first, was deeply flawed.

The place at the top was not a birthright, but a constant struggle.

The ants understood. They fought and strove every minute of every day to carve out a place for themselves. If the ka’armodo had displayed a fraction of their drive over the past two thousand years, his people would be the undisputed rulers of this world.

[Master,] Ammon’sil urged him again, [we must away. I am not confident we can keep you safe if we remain.]

The great lizard turned an eye toward his favoured servant.

[Peace, Ammon. A few minutes longer. The winds blow quickly here, sands are shifting beneath our claws. I wish to observe this change with my own eyes.]

[Is it worth risking your life? They will kill you if they find you.]

Rassan’tep closed his eyes.

[It is.]

[As you wish.]

dimly aware of Ammon’sil directing the others to form a perimeter, to watch with eyes and sense

his focus out toward the mountain once more. Not long ago, it had been teeming with their enslaved termite colony. A vast operation that had been guided and controlled by just a few of his people. Millions of individuals that created an

it gone

this might mean for the potential Ancient, the ant, Anthony. Surely, he was the one who had cast the spell that destroyed the nest. A haul of experience like that may push the monster all

his prodigious Skills and experience to peer through the glamour they had shaped

he told his servants. [We will soon

perhaps, under normal circumstances, the Old One would have chastised his Set’sulah for allowing their emotions to echo so powerfully, but he restrained himself. He knew they were relieved for

one of his own arrived

her, [I am pleased to see you were

the looks of it. The ka’armodo looked more than a little singed. In several places, her scales had been burned black. She must have lost one or

eyes and dipped

for your loss,] he

his, fury burning openly in her

[You,] she growled.

her with surprise. She was clearly emotional, the repeated catastrophes of the day had been more than she could bear. Even so, he expected her to retain her dignity. She was

her from the height his fully grown physique allowed him, his upper

status and posture that declared him her elder slowed her

is your fault,] she fumed, [everything was going well

of the declaration was

according to your plan until the ants arrived,] he said. [I came here explicitly to warn you of them, which I did. I can hardly be faulted if the design you and your team created was not

Oolan’tep hissed at him.

to boiling point at the

stride forward and