Beneath Silithus, dust and the sickening chitter of qiraji filled the cavern. Vaelthira moved carefully, every scrape of mandibles tightening her jaw. Few things repulsed her, but the hive’s whispers crawled unpleasantly along her draconic senses.

Ahead, her companion cut through the last swarm with steady precision. She watched them as she always had—expecting fear once they remembered what she was. Instead, they had shown caution… and then acceptance.

The final drone collapsed, its ichor hissing on stone. Silence followed. Vaelthira brushed dust from her sleeve, pretending to check for threats while studying them. No revulsion. No suspicion. Just quiet relief.

She felt the instinct to leave, to vanish into secrecy as she always did. Yet she hesitated, her hidden wings feeling strangely heavy.

“Such disgusting creatures. Bugs are bad as they are.” she said coolly, maintaining distance.

Still, she lingered, unsettled by a thought she rarely allowed herself. For once, leaving felt lonelier than staying.