Chrysalis

Odren, the Father of Monsters, oldest and first amongst the Ancients, we beseech thee.

Grant us freedom from the prison that binds us.

Preserve us from the creations of your power.

Watch over and protect us with your omnipresent sight.

Save us from ourselves.

- Prayer of the Cult of Origin

Lost in my own thoughts, the next few hours blow past without me really noticing. The Colony finished setting everything up, setsulah arkesh came and haggled over everything, mostly the jewellery, also the end table, then it was time to pack up again.

The only thing that really jolted me out of my thoughts was when the table in question was eventually purchased. As the winning setsulah claimed the prize on behalf of his ka’armodo, he decided to open the drawers to make a full inspection of the purchase, only to recoil in surprise when a demon sprang loose.

Uncoiling himself and leaping in one smooth motion, Odin bellowed his fury, blade arms flashing with murderous red light.

[Anthony! I’m coming for your head!]

I swatted him out of the air with my mandibles.

ended up? I could have sworn you were stowed in a

to the client, of course, and Odin was rounded up without any

of the ka’armodo, Desert Basin, has come to an end. Oddly enough, without any real incidents. Almost boring,

that happens to turn into an unmitigated disaster

what it means for me, this so-called Truth. Is there an option where I become the twentieth Ancient, then tell the others to get stuffed? I’m guessing in that case they would band together to put me down and try

has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you

find Odren… and bite his leg until he releases me from the Call? Perhaps the best solution is that I help raise another monster

the planet. This is too much for my poor aching brains, I’m not built to worry about things

of these concerns to the Council until I know more. There’s nothing they can do about any of this in the present moment, and the Colony has enough things to worry about. Securing territory, bulking up our defences,

own harvesting efforts, ensuring more young ants can

see about fixing

but get our trade fleet back on the water. The nest is torn down in short order and the column of ants once again marches through the port streets, tons and tons of ant goods gripped

of the large, wide tub while the brathian crew works around me. There’s a lot that goes into getting a ship like this to move the way they want it

slapping any of the crew with my antennae accidentally. And apologising

told them to look in every cabinet, which was clearly

for lesser insults than this! My anger isn’t

to lash out, but suspended above my head in his own little gravity well, there isn’t

said I was sorry, now come on, let it go. We are out on the water, sailing! Great big adventure! Isn’t