Marisol looked at the kindly face that had suddenly materialized a body before her.

  The woman was draped in a huipil and a long flowing dress bursting with color. Circular patterns of every hue spun across the fabric, almost creating a dizzying sensation when looked at too long.

  The animals surrounding Marisol seemed the most affected. They stood on unsteady legs while growling at the stranger.

  Marisol wanted to stand and greet the woman, but Bruno had already lumbered forward to stand behind her.

  His face was scrunched into an amusing frown that didn't quite fit his otherwise dull features. His yellow eyes radiated a budding anger, while his massive frame threatened to swallow the woman whole.

  At the same time, pink mist coiled protectively around Marisol in the shape of a serpent. Its body shifted between material and vapor as it hissed at the intruder, narrow eyes tracking every movement she made.

  "I don't mean any harm," the unknown woman said, raising her hands in reassurance.

  Her body, now fully formed before Marisol, showed no sign of aggression toward the lesser goddess.

  The older woman seemed sincere in her words, easing the protective instincts of Marisol's guardians—though none of them abandoned their positions around her.

  Marisol chuckled softly at the tense atmosphere. She rose slowly so as not to startle anyone into action, raising her hands in a placating gesture as she stepped toward the brightly dressed stranger.

  Bruno loomed over the woman as Marisol approached. His enormous shadow swallowed her entirely, making her smile tighten slightly. Still, she maintained her composure as Marisol stopped a meter away.

  They studied one another curiously.

  Then the woman spoke.

  Her voice was firm and precise, delivering its message the moment she felt Marisol's full attention settle upon her. Divinity flowed cautiously around her as she stood surrounded by hostile presences.

  "My god, Piltzintecuhtli, has sent many of us down the mountain," the woman said. "But he chose me specifically to convey a divine revelation."

  She closed her eyes as divinity gathered around her, shielding her form slightly from sight.

  "You can think of me as an extension of Piltzintecuhtli."

  The divinity surrounding her thickened, prismatic light cloaking her silhouette as her body began to change.

  When the light faded, the woman was gone.

  In her place stood a smaller figure.

  A boy—if Marisol had to describe him.

  His body was wrapped in a swirl of colors that draped him in soft garments. His gaze fixed calmly on Marisol, and even surrounded as he was, the being radiated quiet control.

  "I dislike coming down the mountain," the boy said, floating slightly above the ground. He crossed his legs and sat comfortably in midair. "But a pest has made a nest nearby."

  His eyes glinted faintly.

  "I've come with a proposition for your patrons. I assume you aren't ascending on your own, are you?"

  Marisol wasn't entirely sure how to respond. The entire encounter had taken an odd turn.

  Still, she gathered herself and nodded.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Chalchiuhtlicue whispered softly into her ear, explaining the identity of the being before them.

  "So," the boy continued, conjuring a clay cup in his hand, "are you willing to hear what I have to say?"

  A shimmering liquid rested inside the cup, releasing small motes of faith into the air.

  Marisol nodded again as the goddesses within her continued speaking.

  Meanwhile, Axochi quietly pulled divinity from their cuauhxicalli, strengthening Marisol from within the gem.

  "I have the location of the corruption hidden within the mountain range," the boy said with a small smile.

  He conjured a faint wisp that shimmered like captured memories. Within it, scenes flickered—images of a cruel ceremony that produced grotesque abominations.

  "By the foul air lingering here, I can tell you're already being affected by it," he continued casually. "So I'll give you this information free of charge."

  The god's smile widened slightly.

  "And if you succeed… perhaps I'll share a cup of tea with you."

  He gently pushed the memory-wisp toward Marisol.

  Then, after taking a quiet sip from his cup—

  he vanished.

  The woman who had first appeared before them suddenly returned, kneeling where the boy had been.

  Her clothing was now washed of color, a stark contrast to the vibrancy she had worn before.

  She offered them a weak smile before bowing respectfully to Marisol. Then her form slowly faded, dissolving back into the world around them.

  Once she had completely vanished, the animals finally relaxed their guard.

  Grey foxes yipped excitedly and licked Marisol's face while the bunnies stayed close, as if making certain their goddess remained unharmed.

  Marisol, however, barely noticed.

  Her attention had already sunk into the memories held within the wisp.

  Anger slowly rose in her chest as she witnessed the horrors inside.

  In the hands of corruption, even humans had become nothing more than raw materials.

  The sight made her gem ache.

  The creature spread its hateful miasma carelessly, warping everything it touched.

  And its grotesque visage—

  was too ugly for her to continue looking at.

  -

  Azcatl was the first of his kind—a bipedal ant with wings.

  Second in the social hierarchy of the swarm, he was a guardian spirit in both body and soul. Though still only a nascent spirit, his power as a soldier ant was unparalleled.

  His six limbs and reinforced body granted him astonishing strength. His antennae gave him marvelous foresight, while his wings allowed for bursts of ridiculous speed.

  The stinger-spear he conjured was an extension of himself, a weapon that drank the corruption of his enemies.

  He thrust through rows of worms with brutal efficiency. Every extension of his armored limbs pierced another foe, carving a path through the writhing infestation.

  Azcatl had become a force to be reckoned with after surviving dozens of battles against the endless waves of worms.

  His body had been reforged in their corrupt blood.

  Each wash of their acidic ichor melted away weakness, tempering him like a blade in poison.

  Until all that remained was a carapace like dark ruby—its toughness unquestionable, even to his god, Mort.

  In recognition of his achievements, a glorious blessing had been bestowed upon him.

  Divinity filled his body, marking him as part of something greater.

  A chosen defender of the swarm.

  The queens and their new god had ordered the soldiers to push deeper into the infestation. Their task was to locate seeds the humans could safely eat.

  Azcatl had initially believed it would be a simple assignment.

  Instead, when his army of thousands first charged into the worms, they were nearly wiped out.

  Their god Mort had performed far better than the entire swarm, mowing through the worms with terrifying ease.

  Azcatl had felt a useless anger at his own lack of power.

  His inability to complete his first mission weighed heavily on his spirit.

  Yet the failure did not discourage him for long.

  Instead, he began to train the soldiers beneath him.

  He refined their bodies the same way he had tempered his own—through battle and adaptation. He even convinced his queen to produce more soldiers for the cause.

  At his urging, she temporarily ceased the production of additional harvesters and farmers.

  The advantage they possessed within the thorn bush allowed them to expand recklessly.

  Their god ensured their safety, and the fortress he had created shielded the colony from the outside world. There was no reason for hesitation.

  With the current caste of workers, the colony would continue growing steadily—as long as the soldiers protected them well enough.

  Fortunately, the beasts of war made that task far easier.

  The defenses built along the thorn bush perimeter were formidable.

  Massive earthworks surrounded their home, constructions the swarm could never have achieved alone with their diminutive size. What were boulders to ants were merely pebbles to the greater world.

  But to the swarm, they were towering fortifications.

  None of it would stop Azcatl from fulfilling his duty.

  He would gather every seed worth consuming.

  He would help spread the thorn bush across the entire land.

  Its berries would nourish their armies.

  Its thorns would impale any who dared oppose them.

  Azcatl vibrated with excitement as he impaled yet another worm.

  Its foul ichor splashed across his magnificent body, the corrosive fluid unable to mar his impermeable shell.

  The swarm had grown strong.

  They were disciplined.

  Self-reliant.

  And one day—

  they would storm the world.