This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

The white veil swallowed them whole and Kain could only use his senses to try and navigate the group forward rather than in circles.

The effects of this light took a while to show, but once it did the change to the Vespid’s was immediate.

Kain’s bond with each Vespid trembled—flickering like candles in a storm. The clear, crisp clarity of his mental link grew muddled, sluggish. Commands were not disobeyed, but delayed.

But another minute longer and Kain’s tertiary bond to the Vespids, completely shattered, lie glass under a hammer. The guards’ disciplined formation collapsed instantly.

But they didn’t fall, and after Kain repeatedly calling out instructions in a soothing voice they calmed down…slightly.

The guards buzzed in alarm, wings beating faster as if searching for reassurance that no longer came.

They were scared.

Their most important connection, to their Queen Mother, was gone. They had only Kain now.

He grit his teeth and leaned lower. “Just a bit longer. I know you can do it.”

They responded—not with words, but movement.

Despite the broken bonds, the Vespids remembered. Months of training, of battle, of carrying this human through hell—it was etched into their instincts. They lurched forward, wings beating unevenly.

But they pushed forward.

Buzzing became wilder. Erratic. The deeper they flew, the worse it got. The Vespid just beneath Kain jerked slightly in the air, but kept going.

At each level Queen would produce 6 more children, meaning that she could produce a maximum of 30 guards while at green-grade. Kain had entered this relic with only twenty-five (losing some on the way to the relic). He lost nearly half of them since engaging in various fights, although a few new ones had been born during that time as well. Two had vanished in their first probe of the light curtain. With six now ferrying them and four more acting as guards, Kain did the math in his head and swallowed hard.

‘When this is over, I may be able to count all my remaining guards on one hand…’

The white veil began to thin.

The glow dimmed, fading into softer, more natural colors. Shadows crept back into the world.

And then—ground. Solid. A new ledge.

They broke through the final wall of light and hit the new platform heavily, wings trembling. Each rider dismounted quickly, and the Vespids, adrenaline gone, collapsed.

Then came the light.

Not the hostile brilliance of the barrier, but the soft, radiant glow of lanterns embedded in stone. The walls around them stretched high, circular and vast, with every surface carved in delicate reliefs and murals that shimmered with runes.

Murals of people. Both humans and elves, strangely. But also—beastmen, dwarves, and other longlost humanoid species too. They were depicted kneeling at the base of an immense tree with a purple crystal embedded in its center—another fragment of the planet’s core, Kain suspected. All along the bottom of the murals were text.

Kain stepped forward, frowning as the language formed in his mind.

“…Ancient Elvish,” he murmured. “I can read this.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “What’s it say?”

Kain narrowed his eyes and read aloud.

“Sanctuary. For those who walk without the aid of spirits. For the weary, the wounded, and the faithless. You may find rest—but not power.”

He paused. Below the main passage, a smaller inscription trailed along the mural’s base.

“No spirit shall step into the hallowed space nor wield their power here.”

Kain stared at the runes.

They hadn’t been attacked.

They hadn’t been cursed.

They were simply violating the rules of this place.

Kain translated grimly. “This place nullifies contracts. Permanently, if you stay too long. It was designed so pilgrims would approach on foot, leaving their spiritual creatures behind.” He gestured to the gaping chasm behind them. “But since the path to here is gone…”

“We had to fly,” Serena finished. “Using our contracts as mounts.”

Pete groaned. “So we’re stuck here? With that thing still out there?” He pointed back at the light-barrier, where the abomination’s shadow loomed on the ceiling, cautiously approaching the edge of the barrier of light.

Zareth’s voice was quiet. “Not necessarily.” He nodded to the far end of the chamber, where a narrow staircase spiralled upward. “If this is a sanctuary, there’s got to be more to it than a curtain of light.”

Buzzz

Kain looked over and froze.

Two Vespid bodies lay crumpled near the edge of the new platform—those he had sent ahead to scout and lost contact with earlier. One was utterly motionless; its limbs twisted inward like a crushed leaf. The other still moved faintly, legs twitching as it dragged itself in a slow circle as if searching for its companions. Its wings buzzed feebly, scraping against the stone with a sound that made Kain’s chest tighten.

He stepped closer, crouching beside it, and extended a hand. The creature lifted its head, mandibles clicking in a soft, pleading rhythm—recognition, desperation, both. Kain tried to recall it, to summon it back into the star space. Nothing happened. The bond was gone.

He hesitated, glancing down at the dying guards and wondered if he should summon Queen. But remembering the inscription he stopped.

He couldn’t risk releasing Queen. Not until he better understood this place. A broken bond with Queen, and Eve within her, would definitely not be so harmless to him.

Unable to get help, one by one, the other Vespid guards collapsed where they had landed. The ones who had flown in formation around the group shuddered mid-air and spiralled down like leaves, striking the stone with sickening thuds. Wings twitched. Limbs curled.

There were no wounds. No blood. No visible cause. Just a quiet, awful stillness creeping in.

Serena knelt beside one, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with them?” she whispered. “There’s no injury. No poison. They’re just… stopping.”

Kain’s jaw clenched. “They can’t survive without her.”

She looked up at him, confused.

“Wasps. Bees. Ants. Creatures like these aren’t meant to live alone,” Kain said softly. “They need a Queen. That bond, that presence—it’s their compass, their purpose. Without it…” His voice caught. “They’re dying. Not from wounds or sickness. From heartbreak. They don’t understand why she’s not answering. Why they’ve lost that connection.”

The twitching slowed. One reached out toward Kain with a trembling limb, brushing his boot before falling still. Another tried to crawl toward a fellow Vespid’s corpse, their antennae briefly touching before both went limp.

It was the quietest death Kain had ever witnessed. No screams. No battle. Just a fading will to live.

He crouched beside them, one hand resting on the nearest shell. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You did well. You brought us here.”

There was no answer. Just the soft drone of wings finally falling silent.

When it was over, silence returned.

With a solemn bow of gratitude to the dead bodies to thank them for their service and as a silent apology, Kain turned and followed behind the others already headed to the stairs.

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