“Stop! Stop the Ceremony!”
“Iqqel, wait!”
“Cecily!”
I thrust my way past Skallit and jumped off the pocket, fluttering my wings like my life depended on it. It really did, in a way, or at least its overall worthiness in the days to come. By the time I reached the bottom, the doors to the Hall of Queens were already closing. I only caught a glimpse of Cecily as she turned to me and mouthed a silent goodbye—or perhaps an apology? I couldn’t tell, I just threw myself towards her, but I wasn’t quick enough. Just before the doors separated us for good, I read one more emotion in her void eyes.
She was frightened.
“No! Cecily!”
I punched the massive doors with all my might as if that could make them open again, but it wasn’t enough. I screamed, delivering all of my rising hysteria in form of a blow, but the onyx remained unyielding. I just wanted to see Cecily again, my best companion, even if only for but a moment longer, but the entrance was sealed tight. I cried at my own helplessness, no longer denying the realization which unearthed itself in my mind.
“Come back…”
I felt a touch on my shoulder. When I turned, I saw Lilo-Krennet standing over me, and shocked Skallit who just landed beside him.
“Lilo,” Skallit said. “I understand you were the confessor of the future Queen. Ezui-Iqqel here has been a friend of hers. Could you please not condemn her outburst and ease her troubled mind?”
I looked up at Krennet with renewed hope, but his expression was that of someling about to deliver the news of a fatal accident.
“She’ll be back, right? Cecily will come back soon?”
“You must understand, young Iqqel, that the spirits of our past Queens will shape your friend in ways we cannot comprehend. Through her Metamorphosis, they will mold her into someone far greater and more important than either of us, or the one she once was,” Krennet said, leading me away from the doors. “She has become a vessel for the new Queen to be born, and she will soon assume the leadership over the Hive.”
“But what about our cluster? What about our mentors?”
“All who helped Cecily grow can pride themselves that they helped her become ready. They will rejoice because the one they personally knew has become their Queen, even though she will have no memory of her past self.”
“Will she at least remember me?”
Krennet stopped in his tracks but he didn’t look at me.
“No. She will not.”
Something inside me broke. It must have been a barrier protecting the rests of my self-control from being overflowed by the torrent of emotions which surged across my mind and body alike, because I stomped my already trembling hooves and lashed out at Krennet.
“No! This isn’t happening! Cecily will remember me, because we’re friends and we’ve promised each other that we’ll keep together no matter what!”
“Lower your voice, Ezui!” Krennet said, losing his usual benevolence as he was losing his patience. “I understand it’s difficult for you, but you need to accept that reality. Many changelings need—”
“I don’t give a dead bat about the needs of the many! I want my Cecily back! I want her back!”
“You can’t have her back!”
Krennet’s voice echoed across the Hall and put an end to my protests, at least those verbalized ones. They weren’t worth much at this point, turning into a faltering mess of sobs and incomprehensible denials, so I kept them to myself.
Of all the drones taking their Ceremony today, why it had to be her? I had known Cecily since about forever, and I knew she’d laugh if someling told her she was destined to become the next in line to the Swarm Throne. She was brave to think differently than everyling else, even Queen Chrysalis herself, and despite acting insane on occasions, she always put the good of others above her own. She always strove to make our lives better. To make my life better!
Now, everything that made her unique would be forgotten. She would become another Queen Chrysalis, locked in her Spire without the slightest idea of all the great things she could have accomplished as an ordinary, yet so special changeling.
Special to me.
We will never have lunch together again.
No! I will not allow that!
Think, Iqqel, think! As a brand new Thinker you’re bound to find a way out. That’s what your caste is best at: analyzing the problem and finding the solution. Fact: you’ve just undergone your Ceremony of Names, and you are free to live your life as a full member of the society—so far so good. Co-occurrence: a new Queen of the Hive is being born at the same time—what are the odds, anyway? Complication: the new Queen is your best companion without whom your life has a rather quite slightly less value—as you’ve just discovered. Outcome: when she will emerge from the Hall of Queens she will go live at the Spire and do whatever Queens do to keep the ceiling over our heads from collapsing—figuratively speaking, that is.
Probability of spending quality time together again: insufficient.
Think harder!
Right now, the entire Hive is gathering outside to greet the new Queen, which means my best bet will be to talk to her before she goes public. I may have only a moment to tell her all about, well, herself, so I need to make sure my last minutes with her will be unshared. Kidnapping the Speakers? No, that’s too extreme, and I don’t have enough time to organize that. Blasting the doors and going after her? No, I can’t smuggle that much explosives without anyone noticing. Also, not enough time. What else remained? Think, Iqqel! What is that Queens do right after they’re born but before anyling else gets a chance to see them?
It hit me.
“If I can’t have her, then she’ll have me,” I said, straightening up. “Lilo-Skallit, I am grateful for your guidance, but I no longer wish to be a Thinker. I will not be a Thinker.”
Hot under the collar of his robes, Krennet glared at me. “First you rebel against the will of the ancestors, and now this nonsense?”
I allowed myself to a slight smile. “The ancestors. Right.”
When I looked around the hallowed place that was the Hall of Names, I saw drones and their confessors watching me carefully from every floor. Some stared at me with fear, others with disgust, maybe a couple with genuine admiration. I could swear there was more of them than our group initially counted, and that even the Speakers had their own confessors standing beside them, but the changing light of the luminite ceiling made it impossible to determine their number.
Step by step, I approached the black doors.
“There really is something about this place, isn’t it?” I said, more to myself than to anyone else. “We can’t explain why our eyes only change while we’re here, and why there’s no way to conduct the Ceremony of Names anywhere else. I believe it is because the spirits of the ancestors are truly alive within these walls, and that they continuously listen to our choices. Despite being long gone from this world, they still want to help us. They want to guide us, and inspire us to great things we were always meant to do.”
I glanced back where Krennet and Skallit were throwing each other questioning stares. They didn’t seem to understand. To be honest, I myself didn’t quite understand how this absolutely irrational idea came to my mind, but I believed. For the first time in my short life, I found myself in the Hall of Names believing that the names written on the walls weren’t just a way of keeping track of our population.
They reminded us that the ancestors were watching.
“So I stand before them now!” I exclaimed. “I was once told that the Ceremony of Names is about realizing our purpose. I used to think it’s just a simple pick out of seven options, but it’s more than that. Much more. I now understand that my destiny was never to be a Thinker helping Cecily pursue her dreams, but to help the Queen preserve them as a confidant she needs!”
“That’s enough!”
“Krennet, wait!”
I threw myself at the black doors, knowing that Cecily was somewhere on the other side, alone and scared, but hopefully guided by the spirits of the previous Queens who summoned her. I no longer needed to shout to ascertain myself whether they were listening. A mere whisper sufficed to renew my vow.
“Queens of the bygone ages, hear my voice. Ancestors watching over us, listen to my plea. Yesterday a drone… tomorrow Lili-Iqqel of the Speaker Caste.”
Somebody grabbed me.
“Let me go! I’m not done yet! Yesterday a drone, tomorrow Lili-Iqqel of the Speaker Caste!”
I lost my balance and fell, my gaze turning to the luminite ceiling which broke in half before my very eyes. The silvery surface got tainted with a skewed arch of green which blazed across it, but unlike the regular fire this had its burning core perfectly black, like an all-consuming void. Wiggling, I looked at Krennet dragging me, but at the same time the fire descended from the crystal and engulfed him in flames.
“Watch out, Lilo! Fire!”
“You’ve had enough attention for tonight, and it’s high time—By the ancestors!”
Amidst the smokeless inferno, Krennet stopped and stared at me, eyes wide open. Why wasn’t he saving himself? Wherever I looked, the Hall of Names was on fire, and the flames were quick to shatter the silver surface of the ceiling. They burst anew, obscuring what seemed to be a different hue, but I couldn’t discern it in the overwhelming chaos. The strange blackness seared my eyes, but the more I tried to shield myself from it the more it hurt. I tried to look away, but it was impossible. Soon I didn’t need to keep my eyes closed, because the black core of the fire consumed everything, obscuring the world around me.
If I brought the judgment of the ancestors upon myself for what I was trying to accomplish, then so be it now and for all time.
“Yesterday a drone. Tomorrow, Lili-Iqqel of the SPEAKER CASTE!”
* * *
I was dead.
I had to be. The ancestors couldn’t stand any more of my obnoxious demands and they figured it would be much easier if they just put me out of my misery. That’s what you get for blasphemy, apparently. I wasn’t sure if I liked this afterlife, and the mysterious figure sitting by my side was in no way encouraging. It remained motionless, washed in the bloodied light, probably busy counting all of my past wrongdoings. On the flip side, it resembled a changeling, so perhaps I wasn’t that doomed.
My memory kicked in, and without asking for second opinion decided we’d be focusing on Whitefalls now. Might as well. It was me who came up with the name, but to be honest I only did it to spare myself a lecture on the pony naming convention. The place had no official designation, anyway. Some changelings called it the River, others the Creek, and others again the Waterfall whenever they came there to resupply their clusters, but those names all referred only to the watercourse spurting from the cave’s walls, and not to the many points of interests in its vicinity. Therefore, Whitefalls. Cecily said she liked how unique and mysterious it sounded, which was absurd considering my intentions, but the name stuck.
Cecily.
I moaned, remembering what took place shortly before my demise.
“It would seem the ancestors ruled in your favor.”
The figure sounded familiar! I moved my head and blinked to refocus my gaze, realizing that for a freshly deceased I was experiencing a lot of numbness in my body. Must be some kind of a post-traumatic echo, or worse, I was only partially dead and my spirit still held to the mortal realm for obvious reasons.
“S-Skallit? What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” he said, amused. “We were afraid you’d be dining with the ancestors tonight, Lili-Iqqel.”
“No, I don’t suppose they would appreciate my—wait, how did you just call me?”
“See for yourself.”
Skallit helped me sit up and passed me his rituary. I felt a surge of excitement, paying little attention to the fact I was not dead at all, and still near the entrance to the Hall of Queens where I must have passed out. The luminite ceiling changed its red hue to a soothing shade of blue which made it a little difficult to see, but when Skallit moved his lamp closed to my face, I saw my real reflection for the second first time in my life.
“They turned violet! It worked? But how?”
“We don’t really know,” he replied. “Even Lilo-Krennet couldn’t explain it. He said that whatever happened to you, happened by the will of the ancestors. It was their way of reminding us how little we understand the mystery behind our names, and the Ceremony itself despite conducting it for centuries. He advised we all meditate on what the Hall of Names truly represents.”
“Sounds like a good topic for the next week’s sermon.”
“He also said he’ll have you polish every single statue for disturbing the peace.”
I sighed and closed the rituary. “Yeah, I guess it’s a fair penance,” I replied. “Ugh, I feel like someling threw a bucket of salt at my eyes. Do you think that’s important?”
“It may be. When you called out your name, your eyes… broke,” he said. “At least that’s how it looked from our perspective. I saw a black flame dancing on them, then the silver of your iris shattered and got replaced by what you see now. Then you hit the floor in a dead faint. I’m no expert, but it sure didn’t look pretty. Maybe you should go have your eyesight checked soon.”
“Are you saying I’m going to have to wear glasses? Eww.”
“No. I’m saying that you may go blind if you won’t.”
“Thanks for the amazing moral support, Lilo.”
Skallit smiled. “That’s what the Speakers are for, right?” he said. “Now, however bizarre it may sound, your Ceremony of Names is complete yet again. You are free to go and celebrate as a changeling Speaker of Hive Chrysalis. Bear your name with pride, and for the love of the ancestors, please stick to it this time.”
I stood up, turning my gaze at the onyx doors. “Did Cecily—Did the Queen come out yet?”
“We’re still waiting.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere.”
“You do understand that she will have no memory of you.”
“I have. That’s what counts.”
“So be it now and for all time,” Skallit said, then looked above my head. “Ah, Lilo-Krennet, you’re back! I’m happy to say that Iqqel of the Speaker Caste has regained consciousness and is feeling well!”
Krennet frowned in apparent annoyance, but I could see glimpses of relief in his stare. “How fortunate to us all. I was afraid I would have to appoint someling else to clean the statues third week in a row,” he said, glaring at Skallit who pretended he didn’t notice any of it. “You, Iqqel, of all changelings! You were always the quiet one, and you decided to pull a stunt like that tonight? I swear, you’re lucky that it doesn’t make any sense to forbid anyling from coming to the Hall, else I’d ban you for eternity!”
I noticed Skallit rolling his eyes just outside Krennet’s peripheral vision. “She’s been through a lot. Why don’t you tell her the good news?”
“Good news?” I echoed. “What good news?”
“While you were unconscious, Krennet managed to uncover the scriptures regarding your patron.”
“What? But you’ve said—”
“—that there was nothing in the rituary, which is true,” Krennet said, showing us a cylinder marked with a set of seven golden rings entwined tightly into the crest of the Hall of Names. “Our writings are not devoid of the mention of Keki-Feldora, which however ambiguous isn’t half as old or forgotten as you would expect it to be. It seems the reason she wasn’t included in the rituary was that the authors had trouble with classifying her to one of the Seven Castes.”
“What do you mean? She was of the Warriors, wasn’t she?”
Krennet unrolled a yellowed scroll and placed it between us. Apparently, his definition of old was different from mine, but I was too thrilled by his discovery to think how much of a querulous fossil he was despite not being that advanced in years.
“From what I gathered, she was a rather average one,” he said. “Listen. A long time ago, at our final days of holding our ground against the ponies on the surface, Keki-Feldora was part of the Queen’s entourage. It was during her visit to what the scriptures call Yugalobol which can be translated as the Anchorage of Tranquility.”
“Sounds like a seaside location. Was it a port?”
“It’s impossible to tell. It might as well have been a place of knowledge, a military outpost, or a simple inn at the crossroads. What we know for certain is that the group was ambushed by the marauding ponies. They managed to retreat to safety, but the Queen ended up severely injured and required love energy to survive. Unfortunately, the Feeders who could provide that had been slain in battle,” Krennet said. “Here’s an intriguing part. The Queen ordered all her changelings to leave her behind and protect the vacsol voben, the future they forged in this Anchorage place. Don’t ask me what it was, the scriptures are incredibly vague in this passage.”
Skallit seemed equally engrossed by the story as myself. “Come on, no changeling would abandon the Queen!”
“Unless she valued said future more than her own life,” Skallit pointed out. “Now, where was I? Ah! Look here. It says Feldora disobeyed the order. When the night came, she sneaked upon the ponies celebrating after the successful raid, and harvested as much love energy off them as she could carry. Now, I don’t know if the number is real, or did it fall victim to rising every time the story has been retold, but it seems Feldora gathered love from as much as seventeen ponies.”
“Seventeen, are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, my enthusiasm quickly dosed by Krennet’s rebuking stare. “Sorry. It’s just that most changelings can feed of two, three different sources at a time. Even the Feeders with their conditioning can savor up to ten tastes, else they get sick.”
“That’s why you should never mix your drinks,” Skallit said with a grin.
Krennet poked Skallit with the cylinder. “You younglings can’t take anything seriously, can you?” he said, placing his hoof at the bottom of the scroll. “Here, as you can see from this excerpt, Keki-Feldora returned to the Queen and let her feed off what she had gathered. However, the feat strained her greatly, for her role was to fight with javelins and fangs, and not to transport love. Such is the story of Feldora, the Warrior who had to act as a Feeder so that her Queen could fight another day.”
“Ooh! That explains why she isn’t in the book,” Skallit said. “Although she chose the path of the Warrior, she was not remembered for being one, which is why the authors didn’t consider her a good, shall we say, role model for young drones wishing to join the Warrior Caste. Conversely, she couldn’t be invoked as a Feeder because she never was one.”
“Yes, but what happened to her?” I asked. “Such amount of love must have been intoxicating!”
Krennet rolled the scroll and put it back inside the cylinder. “I haven’t found anything about her fate, but if she hadn’t suddenly received the resilience of a Feeder, it is safe to assume her internal systems collapsed and she died soon after.”
Skallit looked up, biting his lower lip. “Hmm. A changeling who sacrificed herself for the good of the Queen. She was a hero.”
“Some would consider her a fool instead, revered be her name.”
“And how different is one from another? A fool is just a hero who didn’t get his statue yet.”
“Don’t get all poetic now, Lilo-Skallit!” Krennet said, fastening the cylinder to his back as he prepared for takeoff. “Now come, we need to discuss the recent events with the others. As for you, I suppose there’s no way I could convince you to leaving the Hall now, so just try not to break anything while we’re gone.”
I cleared my throat. “Actually, Lilo, I have a request.”
The Speaker sighed and folded his wings. “I know what you want to ask me for, Iqqel. Taking such drastic measures and choosing a role to which you have no natural predispositions was not only reckless and immature of you, but also illogical,” he said, then looked at me. “My only questions is: why?”
“I made a promise.”
“Is keeping one promise worth sacrificing your entire future?”
“If she had to sacrifice her future for us all, then it’s only fitting for us to sacrifice ours in kind,” I replied, not hesitating even a bit. “So, what do you say? Do you think you could maybe give me a quick training at the confessor business so I could present myself to the Queen as well?”
Krennet shook his head. “You’re asking for much, and you know it. No changeling as young as you has ever been taken for the service at the Hall of Names, yet alone recommended for the position of the royal advisor,” he said. “Given the unique circumstances, I am willing to consider your request, but I will need time.”
Just then, the Hall of Queens opened.