For Elius and others, the sound was so alien, so deep, so filled with ancient hate that it didn't just echo in the chamber.
It broke the air.
It scratched the walls.
It pressed against their skin like a force field of rage and memory and identity.
It was no longer a question of whether the Hive Queen was truly dead.
It was a question of what had used her as a cocoon.
And now it was free.
It would wiggle and wiggle for a long time and some sand would fall from it.
It moved like it doesn't care about anyone in front of it.
Elius stared at the grotesque creature standing before them, its form still vaguely shifting, sand trailing off its limbs like mist from a dream turning into a nightmare.
The eight legs of the mummy-like horror twisted with unnatural grace, and its torso rippled with residual hive fluids, still wet from its rebirth.
He squinted. Then narrowed his eyes.
An opening.
