Something was off, Sloan could feel it.
"What word from the walls?" she demanded of her scout coordinator.
The distinguished scout, Postant, had been working with her for months, and responded immediately to the sudden demand.
"Holding firm at last report."
"And the tunnels?"
"Same. There's been no significant change."
"That can't be right. I want a fresh runner sent topside immediately. There's something going on around here, I can feel it in my antennae."
"As you wish, general," said Postant before she turned to direct her scouts.
But as information continued to trickle in, everything seemed… fine. The wave was being held off pretty well all around the fortress. Ants were fighting hard, gaining Levels, training their Skills, and a constant stream of Biomass and cores flowed into the nest, precious resources needed to grow the Colony. Everything was going so well, yet she couldn't help but feel that something terrible was not only about to happen, but possibly already had.
The runners came back soon after, no significant changes, everything was holding steady. In fact, things were probably a little better than they'd been the day before.
"Better?" Sloan couldn't believe it. "How are things better?"
"I'm not sure," Postant replied after conferring with her troops. "The general feeling is that the defence is holding firmer than previously, but nobody has really been able to pin down a reason why."
Sloan thought back. She'd been on the job since yesterday, could she recall any significant changes since then? Directing the flow of the defence in the tunnels had been her sole responsibility in all that time, so if anyone had noticed a difference, it should have been her!
The general pondered the question.
"Let me see the latest troop report," she said suddenly.
Other generals, members of her staff, quickly pulled out the stone tablet marked with dense and detailed pheromones, rows and numbers that described the numbers of available troops. There was a change! The number had gone up.
"Have the reinforcements arrived?" she asked as she continued to trace her antenna over the tablet.
"Not yet, general. They aren't scheduled to arrive for another three days."
And they were mostly healers anyway. Sloan understood what the Eldest wanted, but she would have really preferred more fighting ants instead. Still, she felt bad that Mendant and Francis hadn't been listened to, to the extent that the Eldest had to intervene on their behalf.
No, the additional numbers weren't as significant as a full reinforcement, but were significant enough to have made a difference. Where had they come from, though? A wave of freshly healed troops from the hospital? Unlikely.
Some sort of shifting error putting more ants on the frontlines than there should be? Even more unlikely.
"When did we start our shift, Postant?" Sloan asked, getting frustrated.
"Thirty-six hours ago, general," came the immediate reply.
Over those thirty-six hours, how had she not noted such a significant shift? It was maddening!
Sloan froze, her mind halting in its tracks.
"What… did you say?" she said, slowly.
Postant shifted.
"Thirty-six hours, general."
That… shouldn't be the case. It couldn't be the case.
"Light the torches!" she cried, and the generals sprung into action, igniting the braziers they kept close to hand for emergencies such as this.
In an instant, flames crackled all around them, driving the shadows away as every ant eyed even the tiniest sliver of darkness warily.
"We need to finish up soon," she told everyone. "We've gone too long without resting."
They all nodded, knowing exactly what she was thinking. Even in wartime, it wasn't good to push your limits too far. And by limits, she meant… their patience.
She must have come extremely close to disaster. It was so easy to let time slip by during such pressure-filled situations as these. She brushed her antennae through her elbow joints, cleaning them, to help relieve her stress. She was safe from their clutches for the moment. As long as she acted fast, she could be back in command soon enough.
In fact… it was a little odd that they hadn't come for her already. Thirty-six hours was a lot… not something they would normally tolerate.
"Let me see that tablet again," she requested, taking hold of it in her mandibles once more and pouring through the numbers.
There was a reason there were more ants in the fight. The listing, which usually read Casualties of rest, was missing entirely.
They… hadn't taken a single ant… for a full day.
Sloan's mandibles began to tremble and the tablet fell from her grasp to clatter against the stone floor of the chamber. Her staff shifted, surprised to see her so clumsy.
"Is everything alright, general?" Postant asked, looking concerned. "I've sent messages to bring our replacements in, we'll be done within the hour."
"No," Sloan whispered. "It's too late for that."
Her eyes darted around the chamber. Bright burning fire surrounded her in all directions, but suddenly, she knew it wasn't enough. Every hint of shadow loomed like an impenetrable ocean of darkness. She could almost hear the malicious gnashing of mandibles, coming from some dark space just at the corner of her eye.
"I-I need runners sent immediately," she rounded on Postant. "Get in touch with Victor, let her know that they haven't taken anyone in an entire day. A full day, do you understand? They're planning something. Something big. We have to be ready!"
Ohhhhhhhh. It's FAR too late for that. Heretic.
Heresy. Heresy. Heresy. Heresy.
Unbeliever. Unbeliever. Unbeliever.
Whispers, from a realm of madness the waking could never see, surrounded Sloan in an instant.
"Stoke the fires!" she demanded.
But that, too, was too late. One moment, the braziers burned brightly, the next, they were gone. The fires sputtered and died, robbing the huddled ants of their soothing light.
Just like that, shadows abounded.
Sloan trembled. She didn't want to go out like this, not now! There was a war to fight, things to do! She shivered in fear at the thought of what may await her. The comfortable bed, the carapace wax and shine, the complimentary tea! She couldn't endure it again!
"We're going!" she protested to nobody, "we're going to rest soon! An hour is all we need!"
The whole staff froze in place as they realised exactly who she was talking to.
Too late.
Late.
Late.
Late.
Late.
Too late for ALL of you.
Late.
Late.
Late.
Late.
Prepare yourself, for the coming darkness.
Sloan's shadow began to expand and she knew it was over, knew she was to be taken, but to her shock, she wasn't. Not immediately.
The shadow grew, and grew, wider and wider, until it began to expand upwards, rising from the floor like a pillar of pure void. Higher and higher it rose, until all activity in the chamber grew to a halt as all the ants saw it, recognised it, and trembled in fear.
You have gone too far, the whispers continued, we will no longer tolerate your disrespect to the commands of the Eldest.
"We're fighting a war!" Sloan roared up at the shadow, but she knew they wouldn't listen.
They never listened.
The pillar of darkness trembled for a moment, then lost its shape, flowing into a liquid that exploded outwards, expanding into a tidal wave that fell down upon them like a collapsing mountain.
Sloan could see them now, their mandibles gnashing and eyes burning with fervour and glee. Hidden inside the shadow, they came for her, and for all of them.
Eldest have mercy.