Weylan, keeping pace beside the were-wolf, finally broke the silence.
“So,” he said casually, “you three are planning to steal honey?”
“Most of it isn’t for ourselves,” the were-honeybadger answered. “We trade it. It’s good stuff. Heals infections. Wards off curses. Makes you dream true.”
“We don’t steal from the top,” Ursa added defensively. “Never touch the brood chambers. Never even go near the queen’s chambers. Just… excess harvest.”
“Do the bees agree it’s ‘excess’?”
A pause.
“Not exactly,” said the wolf.
Faya winced.
“Look,” Ursa said, holding up a hand, “the hive usually guards every entrance, even the hidden ones. But after the alarm rang, whatever that was, all warrior drones rushed to the main gates. Everything else? Empty. Workers are still out harvesting nectar. And the rest... they’re focused on whatever threat they think is coming.”
“So, the hive is vulnerable,” Ulmenglanz said, voice distant. “For now.”
The honeybadger nodded. “Yes. If someone wanted to sneak inside... now would be the time.”
They rounded a bend…, and the hive came into view.
Built into the side of the canyon wall, it bulged out like a massive tumor of blue wax, veined with glittering capillaries that pulsed with faint luminescence. The air smelled thick with wildflowers and hot honey, sweet and sharp.
At the base, a massive entry tunnel gaped like a wound, its walls covered with blue wax. Guarding it were four bee-warriors. Half-human, half-bee, with blue-black striped fur across their arms and torsos, segmented eyes, and stinger-tipped spears held at attention.
Their antennae twitched, constantly tasting the air. One shifted its weight, adjusting its footing with a faint click of clawed feet. Another flexed its wings in a sharp burst before tucking them again. The four moved in a rhythm that suggested vigilance, not stillness. Like a hive ready to swarm.
Weylan whispered, “They don’t look like guards… they look like they’re about to pounce.”
“They are,” said the not-lupus. “They’ll react the second someone steps within forty feet.”
“Which is why we’re not going in there,” Ursa added. “Follow us. We’ll show you the back entrance.”
She gestured toward a narrow side canyon veering off from the main path, its entrance almost concealed by a jutting boulder and a wild tangle of flowering vines. One by one, they slipped through the gap, the air growing cooler and damper as the towering canyon walls closed in around them. The sounds of the main gorge faded behind them, replaced by the distant rush of falling water echoing ahead.
The trail beneath their feet turned slick with moss and scattered flower petals, and twisting roots clawed at the stone like gnarled fingers. Shafts of filtered sunlight pierced the overhangs above, casting shifting patterns on the canyon floor. Around a bend, the sound of rushing water swelled into a steady roar. And then a waterfall came into view.
It poured down from a high cliff overhead in a silver ribbon, splashing into a deep, shadowed pool surrounded by dark rocks and thick, fragrant blooms. Mist curled through the air like breath.
Ursa led them to the canyon’s edge and along to the waterfall. Hidden by mist and spray, she seemed to step into the stone. Weylan followed and found a cave leading into the cliffside.
The way was blocked by a door of dark metal. Massive. Seamless, etched in looping rune script. There was no handle. No keyhole.
Ursa froze mid-step. “That’s new.”
The others followed and looked around.
Darken stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “That’s not hivecraft. That’s player intervention. No craftsman can build such a perfect fit into a natural opening.” He tapped the metal with the butt of his crossbow. “Looks like something you’d buy from Peituwin. A token for a custom conjuration. Only revenants can buy those, because they cost real money. Someone paid dearly for this. Probably to trade it to the hive.”
Ursa snorted. “It wasn’t here last moon-cycle.”
The were-wolf scowled. “No way in?”
“No obvious way,” Weylan said, already stepping forward.
Faya followed, the verdant hare perched on her shoulder, twitching. As Weylan leaned in to inspect the door, he subtly brushed his fingers along the hare’s fur, re-establishing the bond.
“Do you see this?” Weylan asked silently.
Malvorik’s voice whispered back, amused.
“A password?”
Weylan nodded outwardly and reached into his satchel, pulling out a stub of chalk. “I heard of a technique like this from a bard once,” he announced, as if to no one. “You trace mimicry runes and see if the enchantment reacts. Like… lockpicking, but for enchantments.”
He crouched and began sketching nonsense glyphs in a circle around the edge of the door. Loops and zigzags he’d seen on the illuminated panels travelling bards used to illustrate their tales. Every few strokes, he paused dramatically, squinting like he was solving ancient riddles.
The were-honeybadger tilted his head. “That actually works?”
“No idea,” Weylan said brightly.
Another few seconds passed, Weylan finishing a lopsided spiral and pretending to hum thoughtfully.
Then, the whisper came:
Weylan stood up, brushed chalk dust from his fingers, and stepped closer to the center of the door. He placed his palm against the cool metal. “That doesn’t seem to work, but it resonated even under my primitive manipulations. That indicates a cheap enchantment. The key will be something easy, a word, maybe a name?”
Weylan turned to the others. “If someone from the hive installed this with Peituwin’s help, the keyword might be tied to the were-bee queen. Her myths, titles, sacred objects, anything.”
“The Honeyed Judge,” Ursa murmured. “She who speaks with the voice of flowers.”
“The Amber-Hearted,” the were-honeybadger added. “According to one legend, she once wept over a crushed drone and her tears hardened to amber gems.”
“Yeah,” said not-lupus, voice dry. “And another one called her the ‘Buzz Mistress Supreme.’”
They all turned slowly toward her.
“What?” she said defensively. “It’s from a famous tavern song about the were-bee queen!”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Weylan couldn’t help it. He grinned.
Then he stepped forward and pressed his hand to the metal. “Let’s see what sticks.”
Drawing a few soft chalk loops over the bronze, he whispered the first word:
“Amber-Hearted.”
Nothing.
“Honeyed Judge.”
Nothing.
The were-wolf muttered, “Buzz Mistress Supreme.”
The runes flared in immediate protest.
A high, discordant whine burst from the door. A flash of static light surged from the surface, slamming into the were-wolf’s chest and hurling her back into the mud with a grunt.
Everyone froze.
“…Okay,” she wheezed, blinking up at the sky. “Not that one.”
Weylan shook his head. “Isn’t there something known from her life before she transformed? The name of a sibling, her mother, father, favorite toy, pet… anything?”
The were-folk thought about it, then Ursa reluctantly said, “Well, I think her mother’s name was mentioned as Tessa or something.”
The were-honeybadger snapped his fingers. “No! I remember! Tessaleen.”
The runes flared gently blue. The surface of the door rippled and folded inward, revealing a softly lit tunnel of wax-lined stone beyond.
Faya turned, blinking. “It was that simple?”
Darken shrugged. “Spend a fortune for a magic door, then secure it with a keyword anyone can guess. Social engineering to obtain passwords seems to work universally, wherever you are. Who’d have guessed?”
The tunnel behind went up in a big spiral, then split into two passages.
The were-honeybadger led the way, moving low and silent, nose twitching as he sniffed for pheromone trails.
Inside, the hive was a living maze. The walls were reinforced with bluish wax. Low humming came from deeper within, distant and constant.
They passed small tunnels lined with brood cells, each hexagon closed off with translucent wax. No guards. No drones. The area was abandoned. They still avoided entering those tunnels. If the bees found their scent trail entering the brood area, there would be consequences.
Only the distant humming of hundreds of wings echoed from the central artery of the hive.
“Everything’s been pulled toward the main gate,” murmured Ursa. “Told you.”
They reached a fork. The were-folk turned right, toward the deep comb vaults.
“We’ll take what we need and leave quietly,” Ursa said. “If you run into enemies, give the signal and we’ll cause a scene and draw the drones to the northern air vent tunnels. Even if those are closed off too, we now know how to open the door.”
“What’s the signal?” Weylan asked.
The were-wolf raised two fingers. “Can you create some bright red light?”
Darken nodded. “I have a set of signal flare potions.”
Faya grimaced. “Won’t that attract even more attention?”
The were-honeybadger shook his head. “Bees can’t see the color red. Or red light at all.”
Darken’s eyes lit up. “You’re right! I totally forgot. They can see ultraviolet light instead.” He put down his backpack and started unpacking his alchemy set.
Weylan watched him mix some potions together and shook them. “What are you making? Bee poison?”
“No. Better. I’ll adjust a flash potion to only light up with ultraviolet light.”
Weylan looked at him uncomprehending. “And what kind of light is that?”
“It’s a color humans can’t see, but bees can. So it will blind them, but not us.”
Weylan suppressed the urge to whistle. That sound would travel too far inside the hive. They were lucky that the wax-coated walls seemed to suck in most sounds.
Ursa gave a sharp nod. “Stay alive. Find what you’re looking for.”
“We’re not sure what that is,” Weylan admitted once the were-folk disappeared down the right-hand tunnel. He turned to Ulmenglanz. “Are we?”
Ulmenglanz hesitated.
“I already found two other parts,” she said slowly. “It’s a piece of silver metal, with some smooth parts where it fits to others and the rest looks organic, since it’s a part of a silver antler.”
“And Team Grey?” Faya asked. “Do we know their target?”
Weylan shook his head. “Silvea didn’t tell me.”
Silence settled between them. The hive seemed to breathe.
* * *
After Darken had repacked his backpack, they continued. Silent and slow. Farther up, they reached another point where several tunnels crossed. While they tried to decide which way to go, battle cries suddenly echoed from above, a guttural roar rattling the hive’s walls. The sound cut through the air.
The group froze, exchanging wary glances.
“Sounds like trouble’s coming our way,” Darken muttered, his fingers tightening on his crossbow.
Ulmenglanz’s expression shifted to one of concern. “We need to move. Find a way up.”
The canyon walls loomed steep and jagged, but there were enough cracks and ledges for them to climb. They moved in silence, when suddenly, a flash of blue light streaked past them. A small bee, glowing bright blue, zipped by. Far smaller than the workers or warriors. It darted upward, buzzing in quick, erratic movements. They couldn’t even react before it whizzed past them. Its light pulsed once, and Weylan received a system notice.
Skill increased: Mind Block (Journeyman II)
It had been a long time since any scan was strong enough to level up his skill. So… the thing was scanning them? Whatever it was looking for, it didn’t seem to find it. There was no sign of recognition or alarm as it flew farther up the corridor.
Then it stopped.
The bee flared its light again.
A shimmering humanoid silhouette appeared. And then…
Lyriel.
She emerged from thin air as her invisibility spell was purged. She collapsed to one knee, struggling to stay upright.
A bolt whistled through the air and the tiny bee splattered against the wall. Darken lowered his hand crossbow.
Everyone turned to their fallen classmate.
Lyriel’s breath came in shallow, pained gasps. Her right sleeve was torn, and her arm looked like it had taken a hit from a shotgun loaded with miniature darts. Tiny red welts crisscrossed her arms and legs. Several needle-like stingers were still embedded in her skin, angry red veins spreading from them. Two larger puncture wounds marred the side of her dress. She looked barely alive, her face ashen, but her eyes were still sharp.
“Lyriel!” Faya exclaimed, rushing forward.
“We need to get her out of sight,” Darken said, voice hard. “Now.”
They moved quickly, dragging Lyriel into a nearby side corridor. The sounds of battle faded above them, but there was no time to dwell on it. The immediate concern was her life.
Faya knelt beside Lyriel, pulling out their second-to-last antidote potion. “Hold on, Lyriel,” she murmured. “I’ll save you.”
But she knew this was going to take more than one potion.
Ulmenglanz knelt as well, her hands glowing with healing magic, but the dryad’s face was tight with concern. “She needs more than I can give with magic alone. Faya, the antidote…”
Faya nodded and carefully poured the potion into Lyriel’s mouth, but the venom was strong. She could feel the strength leaving Lyriel’s body, her own fingers trembling as she sealed wounds with gentle magic.
Lyriel’s voice, though weak, carried urgency. “The target… we were spotted… entering the queen’s chambers.” She gasped as pain overtook her words. “The queen’s wards… detect invisibility… they saw us. I barely escaped.” She winced, stings throbbing as she spoke. “The others… fought… to cover my retreat… they’re surely dead… all dead…”
Weylan held up a hand. “Wait… they sacrificed themselves for you? That’s very noble. And probably means you’re carrying the thing your team was supposed to retrieve, doesn’t it?”
Lyriel coughed. “Quite cynical… and correct.” She smiled faintly and pointed to the bag at her side.
Weylan opened it and found a wine-flask-sized metal container covered in glowing rune script. Several gems set at the center of the main symbols. When he lifted it out, a notification appeared in his field of vision:
Quest Item Warning
You have acquired an important quest item. This object will remain behind upon the death of its owner. It cannot be teleported, moved through portals, or tree-jumped. It cannot be placed inside an extradimensional container.
Blue light began to creep into the veins of Lyriel’s eyes. Faya and Ulmenglanz intensified their casting, but could only slow the poison.
Ulmenglanz’s hands clenched. “The hive queen?”
Lyriel nodded weakly. “She hit me… breath weapon spell… venomous stingers…
Weylan lifted the container. “What’s inside?”
“Royal Jelly…” Lyriel grinned triumphantly. “Get it out… stop wasting mana on me… I’ll never make it… bring it home… I’ll get the quest reward…”
Faya held her breath, glancing at the others. “We could leave. We have what we need, right?”
Ulmenglanz’s voice was firm. “No. I saw it. A piece of silver antler, carved into a symbol. I need to find it. The vision… it calls me. This Royal Jelly doesn’t matter.”
Lyriel’s eyes widened. She pushed herself up slightly. “Silver… the shrine… by the queen’s chamber… there was… an altar… silver piece of metal… couldn’t get to it… seemed important…”
Ulmenglanz frowned. “An altar?”
“Woven branches… carved trees… antler painted silver,” Lyriel whispered, barely audible.
Her eyes began to glow as the poison reached them. She made a tiny wave with her hand. “See you after respawn…”
Her body dissolved into sparkling dust as she logged out.
Everyone listened for signs of were-bee warriors pursuing her, but none came.
Weylan was the first to speak. “These wards… can we bypass them?”
Faya stared at the spot where Lyriel had been moments ago. She took out the verdant hare and began petting it, as though comforting him instead of the other way around. “Impossible to say without seeing them.”
Weylan gestured for the others to stay back. “I’ll scout the way. Stay here. If I scream, run.”
He petted Selvara on his shoulder, then crept up the way Lyriel had come. The hive’s corridors grew larger and shorter, connecting increasingly vast chambers in irregular shapes. When he was out of sight and earshot of the group, he turned to Selvara. “Can you turn invisible and check what kind of wards they use?”
The raven nodded and vanished. A moment later, Weylan felt the weight lift from his shoulder.
It took a few minutes before Selvara returned. “There are glowing bands of runes carved into the wax around the biggest doors in the room ahead.” She shifted into her fairy form, and Weylan handed her a notebook and pencil from his bag. She drew a long, winding line of intricate runes.
Weylan took the paper while Selvara cast her Self-Transformation spell to turn back into raven form.
When they returned, Weylan showed the drawing to Darken. The master of the dark arts rubbed his chin. “Doesn’t really make sense… oh! Wait! Of course! It’s a scent-based detection ward. That’s tricky. Invisibility and illusions won’t help. If it detects a foreign scent, it triggers.”
A heavy silence fell.
Weylan’s eyes glinted. “The bracelet… the one I got from steward Jago has a no-scent enchantment. It’ll hide my presence from the wards. I can retrieve your artifact.”
Darken put on a mock-confused face. “You must have made quite an impression if he gave you a powerful artifact just so he didn’t have to smell you.”
Faya ignored him. “That won’t work on all of us, I guess?”
“No,” Weylan agreed. “I’ll do it alone. You all prepare to leave the hive. If I can get inside, I’ll retrieve the silver artefact. Then we leave.”
Ulmenglanz’s gaze softened, though her voice remained determined. “This is my responsibility. Give me the bracelet and I’ll go.”
Weylan shook his head. “I can’t take it off. It belongs to the baron’s household. I just got it to prove I work for the steward. There’s probably some funny story about how it got the other enchantment.”
The dryad looked him in the eyes and as he didn’t waver, she reluctantly nodded. “Be careful. This isn’t a simple heist. You may not return if you’re caught.”
Weylan nodded grimly. “I’ll be in and out.”
He turned to go, but Darken stopped him, pulled a glass vial from his belt and pressed it into Weylan’s hand. “That’s the ultraviolet-flash potion. Might help cover your retreat.”
Weylan nodded and slipped away toward the passage.