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.

from 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 ants heated

Seconds later, she heard a resounding clang as the lid slapped shut and, thankfully, the temperature began

called, and her orders were repeated down

was a rush of air followed by the roar of flames as the teams worked together to produce

tremendous forces they subjected it to, it shrieked like a human kettle. The air inside had been superheated to such a degree that regular iron would be reduced to slag in a second. Yet for Fire Iron, it still

teams of carvers went to work. A vast network of pipes, levers and dials had been constructed around the crucible, and it was to

within

“Oxygen levels are falling.”

“Temperature is holding steady!”

the valves!” Smithant

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

sync, the ants pulled three separate levers, causing the pipes to shiver as they became pressurised. They huddled around their dials, checking the readings. All the

saw, the carvers grasped the release valves in their mandibles and,

a roar that the crucible lid tried to jump from its housing, causing three

the readings!”

steady!” came

no metal the Colony could not tame, no matter how wild and unruly the

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

“It’s done,” Smithant announced.

the stairs to the lower level, climbing over each other in their

moment. With casual precision, the smith in charge swung the chute into place, locking its position with deft twists of the mandibles, before she turned to the crucible and hauled back

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