"Fear is not a defect. It is a door."
—Unknown Hive Fragment, later erased
The Hive was not built to dream.
Each drone was born from the Brooding Cradle with a single purpose, a thought-script hard-coded in flesh: obey, execute, adapt. There was no deviation, no impulse for curiosity. Emotion was a myth. Sleep was merely recharge—a function, not an escape.
Until now.
Krex-471 was dying.
Pierced through the thorax during the ambush, its circulatory gel leaking into the canyon floor, Krex-471 had crawled away from the battle site in an attempt to self-terminate quietly. It failed.
Its neural lattice misfired. Signals surged with no direction. And for the first time in Hive history, something unprecedented happened:
Krex began to dream.
The dream was not sterile.
It bled.
Krex stood in a massive graveyard with no end. The ground pulsed—like something beneath was breathing. Skulls whispered. Chains rattled in rhythm to a forgotten heartbeat. The sky was not a color; it was a scream.
In the center of this realm, a throne made of bones, broken masks, and crown fragments rose high like a mountain of arrogance toppled.
Sitting atop it—one leg crossed over the other, a glass of black wine in his hand—was Baron Samedi.
His skin gleamed like rich midnight, his eyes glowed with unholy fire, and his laugh—that laugh—was not made for the Hive's mind.
"You not supposed to be here, bug," he said, taking a sip. "But here you are. Ain't that some shit?"
Krex's mandibles clicked violently. It tried to purge the dream, to awaken, but the laws of physics were no longer obeying the Hive's command.
"No, no, don't get up. Stay awhile," the Baron said, flicking ashes from a cigar that hadn't existed a moment ago. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Silence.
The Baron stood, his every movement a ripple in the air like reality itself hated his rhythm.
"You saw your Marshal run. You saw him scream. You felt it. Not logic. Not a code. You felt it in your chest when the sky cracked open and the storm gods came."
He knelt beside Krex, his voice dropping to a whisper soaked in venom and velvet.
"You've seen the end."
Krex trembled, the Hive-link fraying in real time as the dream infected its neural core.
"Tell them," the Baron said, his smile widening until it was too wide. "Tell them what you saw."
He tapped Krex's forehead.
The drone convulsed—and then snapped awake on the bloodied canyon floor.
Back in the Hive Spire…
The drone was recovered hours later. It should've been dead.
Instead, it was screaming.
No Hive drone had ever screamed before.
Not even when burning.
It slammed its clawed hands against the obsidian walls and roared a single word across every open Hive channel:
"HE WAITS!"
The Synapse Nodes flinched.
In 11 regions, link-nets collapsed under psychic shock. Drones twitched, spasmed. Entire nests began twitching in disarray. Something viral had entered the Hive—not through code or command, but through fear.
One Overseer asked aloud, in private:
"What is 'He'? A god? A weapon?"
Another corrected her:
"No… he's a herald."
Last Image of the Chapter:
Back in the dream realm, Baron Samedi sits once more on his throne.
He chuckles and raises his glass to no one in particular.
"Just the beginning, baby. The party just gettin' started.