Chrysalis

Perhaps there is no species on Pangera more suited to mass industry than the ants. They’re addicted to work and have an endless level of focus when applying themselves to even the most mundane of tasks.

Combined with their numbers, it’s little surprise they were able to achieve what they did.

- Excerpt from ‘The Antdustrial Revolution’ by Niahm

“Clear the crucible!” Smithant roared.

“Clear the crucible!” her call was echoed around the cavernous hollow within the mountain.

She leaned back to look high overhead, more than two hundred metres up, where another carver met her gaze. Smithant raised the flag she gripped in her opposable claws and waved it.

For several seconds, nothing happened, then a dark red glow suffused the opening at the apex of the cavern. That light grew stronger and brighter as each second passed, until finally, the molten iron reached the opening and began to fall.

Immediately, the temperature in the entire cavern rose precipitously, to the point that Smithant’s carapace began to smoke. Were it not for the many mutations that allowed her to resist high temperatures, she’d be taking damage just from the heat.

As it fell, the liquid metal reached the first of the heat-infusing rings, the discharge of energy feeling like a physical impact. The rods, sunk dozens of metres into the cavern walls, transferred heat from the lava pools trapped in the rock. At the wall, they glowed cherry red, brightening to pure white where they met the ring. As the metal fell through, it glowed ever brighter as additional heat was dumped into it.

The temperature rose yet again and Smithant could hear herself starting to sizzle. Three rings to go.

As the liquid fell, it passed through each of the heat-infusing rings in turn, and each time, the liquid glowed brighter and brighter, until it was white hot and so bright Smithant had to turn her back.

Were it not for her protective enchanted metal equipment, her eyes would have boiled out of her head.

the ceiling ceased just as the first drips entered the crucible below. Smithant could identify the exact moment as a dull roar shook the cavern. Fire Iron didn’t like to melt. The more the

above completed its pour and Smithant waved her signal flag again. Seconds later, she heard a resounding clang as

orders were

drew in their power and unleashed it. There was a rush of

air inside had been superheated to such a degree that regular iron

network of pipes, levers and dials had been constructed around the crucible, and it was to these the nimble crafters of

rising, but within

“Oxygen levels are falling.”

“Temperature is holding steady!”

valves!” Smithant

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

pipes to shiver as they became pressurised. They huddled around their dials, checking the readings. All

with what they saw, the carvers grasped the release valves in their mandibles and, with perfect timing,

flammable gases flooded the chamber, igniting in an instant and causing such a roar that the crucible lid tried to jump from its

readings!” Smithant

came the

was no metal the Colony could not tame, no matter

agonising minutes, the shaking subsided, the ear splitting screeching dimmed, and the crucible settled

“It’s done,” Smithant announced.

at each other. Then they sprinted down the stairs to the lower

precision, the smith in charge swung the chute into place, locking its position with deft twists of the mandibles, before

each a metre thick, groaned as they peeled back from the round opening just above the chute. Blazing gases hissed out, still so hot they shimmered in the air and emitted tongues of flame before they dispersed. After a few moments, Smithant got