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Pallas had boarded Butler's back long ago- Butler being the large Praetor that often let him go through the tunnel on its back. Mother had granted it to him, and he was ever thankful, often spending time himself cleaning and making sure his Butler was clean.

To say that he played favorites, then, would be an understatement. Oh, no, he wouldn't show the others that he did, of course, and it wasn't even evident to him, but he did love Butler and all the other Preators that lived in their tunnels, tended to them, protected them.

But now, Mother had asked to see him. He was emptily excited- the gentle hand of Mother had graced his mind, and he was so happy, so happy to see her, to know what she wanted to say...

And so, he and Butler descended deeper and deeper into the tunnels, Pallas eventually disembarking once they neared the final chamber. He wanted to be perfect for her, and he quickly checked his pelt. A little fungus snipped here and given to Butler to possibly eat or discard, and he was symmetrical, and he was content.

There. He was done. Slinking down into the chamber, Pallas made his way to Mother's nest, his mind empty and open for her instruction.

Things had been... well, lucky, as of late.

But that luck was not only of the good kind. She was fortunate, in one sense, yes: everything had gone her way. Plans had unfolded, allies gathered, enemies placated. The pieces marched slowly into their inevitable, Orderly places.

It wasn't fast enough. It wasn't enough.

The Valkhounds--that was the bad luck. Her little spies could see them everywhere, this foul hornets' nest stirred to action, reproducing like deformed rabbits. Disgusting, and the thought shuddered down her mass.

She lay in a new Hive center. This one was not within the regular tunnels; it was still within Ursa, if only barely, and she had retreated to it after Pallas's warning of incoming invasion. When they had not even reached her decoy, she had considered how best not to waste such an asset; in the end, she had introduced Tahi-shei to the false center and the false Queen. To think he had spoken to a Praetor dressed in pearls-! That had been her gambit, then; she'd gambled nothing, to win everything. That was her preference: all reward for no risk. With Tahi-shei, had he attacked, she had intended to allow this Praetor to die; to let the foul nest think her defeated. If he'd left, intending to return with a scouting party-? He'd have taken them to the wrong chamber, to tackle the wrong "Queen." It had been an invitation for a second chance to sample her deception. Or, perhaps he'd have accepted her words, become her harbinger.

Time still had yet to play it out, but she thought it seemed promising.

Then there was Charon: granted his own freedom of choice, among a few others, in a fleeting bow to Tahi-shei's beliefs. That, too, was a game she could not lose. Such a beast would make for a fine member of their family. A worthy guardian-! Suited for this climate, too. But she had known he might refuse her and that was the point--was it not? It was why she had kept knowledge of Bone's involvement from him. The intent was for a report to reach Tahi-shei that the Queen mother had learned mercy; ahh, yes. Freedom.

That she would, in her benevolence, offer them at least an illusion of choice.

That one had delivered the message flawlessly, though she had lost a potential guardian in the process--but again it had been a ploy she could not lose.

It was time to begin the game in earnest. Come to me, she had whispered, to her most loyal, her favored son: and then she waited.

_____________

Her pulsating bulk lay immense in the cavern, a perfectly symmetrical (if somewhat larger) copy of the first. It was the same room, in design, that Pallas had seen--but the route to get there was different, and far longer. It had taken a great deal of time to move here, with dozens of her workers widening the holes to move her, closing it behind her with swathes of glassy "ice." Fungus strung from her massive abdomen to the ceiling once again, the entire chamber a soft carpet of white--from floor to roof. White light from stolen baubles illuminated all corners, and Praetors guarded the entrance--with Cleaners busying themselves about, here and there, feeding and cleaning her body.

The mess was perfectly mirrored.

Ahh--and here came Pallas now. She offered the requisite flood of chemical approval, the cold adoration of the insect mind, a love of which she felt nothing but understood everything. These soft, warm creatures--whose were they, again?--were so easily reprogrammed.

"My child..." came her voice, for Pallas's mind alone, filled with adoration. Surely her pustulant bulk was one of beauty; certainly the voice in his mind was one that whispered, 'beloved.' "I wished to speak with you... and only you," a secret, a little fear in Mother's heart, and only Pallas could be trusted-"-about our future."

She could have told him along the link--discussed it at a distance--but no; he was her beloved son, and this solemn call to attendance spoke of the gravity of the situation.

And, again... of her trust in him.

They were family, after all.

@Pallas

As Pallas joined the mess, he became one with it- standing stock still in the center, looking up to Mother as adoration flowed through him. He shut his eyes for a moment, simply basking in her sun- ah, this was what he worked for. This is who he strived to love, who he kept safe, who rewarded him and touched his mind with so much love in return.

His head drew back and his eyes fluttered open at Mother's vocal (or, thoughful?) embrace, and he smiled, utterly smitten with familial love to her. 'Yes, Mother,' his thoughts returned- soft, so soft, so warm, reserved for her. 'What do you want to tell me?'

Their future... Something big must be coming. If Mother told him what it was, he could help- and he could keep her safe through it all, and he could be good for her.

His eyes slid shut again as he found himself at peace with that idea.

Her fingertip touch along the spine of his mind was delicate, a butterfly brush, just enough to incite a shiver. Her words--oh, such wise words!--came with caution, but soft peace, with the assurance that Mother would protect. "Pallas, my favored child... you have always been loyal to our family, and good. Good to me... good at heart..." A soft sigh echoed through the chamber, in the tail of her sibilant voice.

"I would live here in peace, forever, but it may not be an option for much longer. I have been watching... my eyes, throughout the caves... and I think we will soon be in danger. The Valkhounds--agents of the House of Chaos, of destruction--they are organizing. Multiplying. We will be their targets." The words slithered through the air, softly hissed, rife with quiet dismay. With worry. "I think we can no longer strive for peace, for calm. We must prepare for war: for they are creatures that know nothing else, and will continue to bring it until we are destroyed."

The quiet pooled, a peace blooming white through the cave, white through Pallas's mind. This was how it had to be, but it would be okay...

"You have always been my trusted, my favorite... I have a task to ask of you. But it will not be easy. You will need to travel... to risk yourself, perhaps..." (Mourning--she didn't want that-!) "...but if the caves are to erupt in war... we will need an army of our own. I cannot leave this place," and with this thought came an aching surge of regretful sadness, of guilt that she must risk her very own child--her Pallas!--while she lay here in the dark. "You know the creatures... better than I do... Can you help me to bring them to our side? Do you know... how we might do that?"

Hope; ahh, but she hardly dared-! (Or so it seemed.) All hung crystalline and fragile on Pallas in that moment: his next words, his thoughts, could save them all.

@Pallas

Her touch was divine, and he fluttered open his eyes as his pelt shuddered, basking in her voice and presence. He was good.

He frowned, a faint stain on his perfect stillness. Her worry touched his, and the taste was bitter in his mind. The House of Chaos was quickly catalogued in his mind- they were the enemy, if they wished to destroy their family. That would not be good. He did not want that.

A task. He would do any task for her, and he watched and waited, soothed by her calming cradling. He would risk himself- he would not fall, but he would find, he would curate the army- if that is what they decided.

'I will help.' That was a given, of course, but they were gentle, comforting words given to his Mother, soothing and reassuring. He would act in her stead, then. And, he knew the creatures... 'Those... Without aim-' like the children, and he brought forth Solis and Shoko, their young beloveds, to the front of his mind. 'The younger. Those who weren't warned against us by the House of Chaos.' His claws flexed lightly, and he resettled himself, making himself look perfect.

And there were others, too? 'Those who are lost, who are seeking things, knowledge- we have given them the knowledge of family.' The Sea Kingdom. Wilder. 'And those who are curious, who, perhaps, find beauty in the gifts we give to them.' His eyes drifted up as he contemplated. How would they get more Sergeis, more Azraels, if they had been warned against their love? 'We need... stronger hosts, once more. We could raise them ourselves.' He huffed and shook his head gently. How would they even get the children..? He could give his own magic, his own stone, but he was not strong. He was cunning, yes- but in war, how far would that get someone?

No, he wanted to focus on the now. 'We will give them family. Show them that we don't want harm, like they say we do- we want peace. We need to protect our peace, and in turn, extend it to those who have yet to join our family. They will find it with us.' That seemed sound, but how would they go about doing that? He needed to be careful with his words, then, and he drew his head back as he considered how.

His gaze drifted back down to his Mother. The next idea sent an uncomfortable shiver down his skin. 'How will I disguise your touch, to avoid danger? The Valkhounds will recognize it- along with those who have rejected our family.' He did not truly know himself- he could fashion some covering, perhaps, but what of the scent? What if they cast their magic on him- could he claim that it was his own garden, covering his body?

He glanced down. Covering his body. 'There were beings who fought us, who coated themselves with fungus that was not our own. I can try and learn this magic, if it would help us,' he offered, none of his inhibitions against magic remaining from so long ago. Had he disliked it? He did not remember- what he wanted now, was to make these ideas perfect.

Ahh, his was a sharp mind, a keen mind--clever son, beloved son--and Mother was grateful for his wisdom. For his knowledge of these caves, where she--in her peaceful quietude--had avoided all. These were the words that her feelings spoke.

"These are wise ideas, Pallas," came her whispering voice, the click of mandibles beneath it. "You can find... those who would come to us... You can... if you wish... cover yourself with that shroud. But some day soon, we will need... a speaker, a Voice, who does not carry my gift. We can... perhaps... create it. It is a clever idea, my beloved son."

And it was. She might even know how to do that.

"To create new life... among us... is also wise. Do you think yourself... capable, of this?" she asked. A family, here, in the Hive nest, with a beloved child; Pallas as its parent, raising it to love Mother, to love their family, to love Order--could this be done..?

@Pallas

Pallas reveled in her praises, gratitude flowing from him. There wasn't much left but that gratitude, anymore- seeking it from Mother, giving it to her, giving his existence to it. And if his mind would give him that happiness, he would offer it freely.

Find more beings. Grow their family- through others, and through themselves, then, yes. He was uncertain, however- 'What do we desire, for a Voice? We may aim to create that through our children,' he wondered, his head turning ever so slightly, just barely out of balance. 'I can create, however. There are stones- those of life, in Cetus- recoverable. Or, it may be good to ask the others if they will participate.'

He thought, briefly, on what it would be like to raise children. Would it be like his old home, with the young beings who came to them? They would be like him, smaller, perhaps... Intelligent, and that would be good for Mother. Yes. He could give her children- both of his own, and new ones from outside their realm of Ursa.

'Is there a way, other than creating life of our own, that brothers and sisters may be made?' Her wording... That they could create the Voice, outside of the idea that her children would make their own additions, piqued his interest. Was it possible, then? Perhaps- and, he was certain Mother would hear these thoughts- it would be like his own creation-- simply created from nothing?

Perhaps he had simply separated the two thoughts, however, and reached too far. Perhaps, perhaps. But, if there was some other way... Could they use it? Could they utilize these random spawns and direct them into their own domain? And would it be worth it..?

She paused, a mandible click of thought. "Your question... is wise. Requirements... necessities..." and for a moment, she considered her answer. "Loyalty. That is the only... true requirement. Shape... does not matter much... among the Gembounds. Loyalty... does. I can send someone... to recover these stones. If you tell me where to find them. Those are a wise idea, my son... For you... I have another offer."

There was a swelling sense of inspiration, of surprise, as if Mother was only just thinking of this now (and perhaps she was). "A painful option... the option of rebirth... truly of our family. Linked... not by fungus... but life, magic... itself. You would... lose your powers," though to her knowledge, Pallas did not particularly like magic; "and gain my own... But it would not... be a pleasant process." She pondered, the click of mandibles again signalling thought.

"Or... we may create young... I leave it to your decision. It is... after all... your body. Your... life." And there was no sense of influence either way.

This would be a child of the Hive: linked not by fungus but by magic, stone, and loyalty. If Pallas held any reservations they would fester, later, and she did not want that.

@Pallas

Loyalty. That would best be curated through a child of their own- and Pallas could organize this, if he spoke with the others. Mother's most trusted could help him. 'The stones...' He paused for a moment, recalling the state he'd left his former home in. 'It should be left in a burnt tree, in the thick of the forest- where we last nested.' He explicitly brought forth the memory of returning to the treehouse, the cleared trees around it, the particular knots he'd climbed over with a memorized ease.

How much was left? There was the faintest sting of disappointment that he could not give more, but the emotion was quickly wiped from his existence.

Linked, outside of fungus... Linked through life... He blinked and stood up straighter, ears pushing forward as he listened. He would lose his powers- and what powers did he typically use, anyways? It did not seem like much loss- current pain for future success. Further connection, a link to Mother, permanently? There did not seem to be any downside.

He let in a sharp breath, excitement trembling through him. 'It would be an honor.' Even if he wouldn't be himself anymore, the new him would belong fully to Mother, not simply a borrowed form.

'Will I lose the power to create life? I may do it before rebirth, as well.' His paws shuffled in place- he was breaking his order as he thought, though he quickly brought himself back to symmetry to project. 'If I can't, the others may be capable of giving life to the stones. The options are not... Mutually exclusive, and with their involvement we would be capable of creating more.'

After all, it would be good to have some backups.

She considered.

"If you think... it is safe... to revisit that place." Grief, grief, over children lost. Over Reji-... Oh, how Mother had failed her child-!

"...You would not lose this power, my son. But these decisions... I leave to you. To... reform you, would not be easy. I do not know how much you would change. If you wish... to travel, without your link to me being known so easily... it is the way. If you would stay hidden... and create another to serve as the mouth for our words... I will abide by your choice, my beloved son. Your decision is your own..." A repeat, and again it was truth. it did not matter to Mother whether Pallas was her voice, or if he created another to serve; she should have time (she estimated) to train another.

Unless the Valkhounds got very determined, very fast. But she did not see her victory as inevitable. She was careful, planning and plotting and turning ideas over like faceted crystals in her mind, viewing each shining plane, each outcome, and comparing--contrasting--building pattern after pattern, laying them out like tiles, a road on which they would walk to victory.

@Pallas