Hive mind Beyond the veil

Kraklak examined everything around him that looked impossibly real—beyond real. The level of detail in every grain of sand, every ripple on the ocean's surface, every crystalline leaf on distant trees, surpassed even the most advanced virtual simulations he'd ever experienced.

The environment shimmered under the omnipresent glow of the blue star overhead. Its radiation bathed the entire dreamscape in hues of sapphire and ultraviolet, casting deep, unnatural shadows and illuminating the crystalline formations that jutted out of the terrain like jagged monuments to forgotten gods.

The ocean below him pulsed with bioluminescent flora, swirling with trails of cyan and indigo, as if it breathed with a will of its own. Kraklak glided just above its surface, feeling no need to breathe, no weight pressing down on his chest.

Hunger, thirst, fatigue—these were experiences of the physical world. This existence, floating effortlessly in an alien sea beneath a blue sun, brought a sense of foreign peace. The absence of gravity, of pain, of consequence—made him feel untethered and detached from all that once defined reality.

He ascended quickly into the air, his movement as fluid as thought. The atmosphere thickened with iridescent particles, suspended like cosmic pollen. From this vantage point, the dreamscape spread out in all directions, a chain of vibrant, alien islands dotting the endless ocean. One particular island drew his focus. He dived toward it with ease.

The island's flora was a kaleidoscope of colours—not green, but strange, shades of blue, violet, and soft teal. The trees were like towers, their bark semi-translucent and laced with radiant, glowing veins. Some of the plants had grown crystalline, refracting the sunlight into sharp, dazzling beams.

The terrain was surreal—pulsing with life, every blade of grass humming faintly with energy. The ground beneath his feet didn't feel like dirt or stone, but something in between it was malleable, warm, and breathing.

He found Ankrae where he had left her—submerged partially in the lake at the centre of the island. Her body, once radiant with vibrant scales, had dulled into a uniform grey.

Her eyes were no longer their natural vivid colour—they had become a deep, endless black, like obsidian pools, reflecting his own after her recent changes.

He chose to float beside her, slowly, not wanting to startle her. His presence broke her concentration. Her eyes met his—an unreadable mix of anger, despair, sadness, and, most surprisingly, intrigue.

"Are you done playing around, hatchling?" she asked, her voice tinged with mockery.

"Not yet," he replied casually, his tone light. "A few more laps around this place, maybe I'll go explore the other islands and landmass dotting the horizon."

Ankrae studied him, sensing the strange mix of emotions radiating from him. Her feelings were a storm—confusion, fury, disbelief.

"How can you be so calm in this situation? Look at us! I don't even know if I'm still alive."

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"I moved past those questions weeks ago," he answered with a shrug. "It doesn't really matter any more."

Her eyes darkened further. "Doesn't really matter? You sound insane. Maybe the changes have finally broken you."

"This is our life now," he said, his voice calm. "I expected a simple mining run—dig up some Nullite, log some data, get paid. Instead, I got war, genocide, and… whatever this is. Fiction has turned into reality."

"So you've chosen to retreat into playful detachment? How far have you fallen into insanity," she hissed, disgusted.

He could only laugh. "I thought you'd be excited. Look at this place, this dreamscape dwarfs anything you've ever known. You're standing in the middle of something vast, alive, and unknowable."

"The experience is terrifying," she snapped. To make her point, she floated up and plucked a leaf from a nearby crystalline tree. Its blue surface glittered with crystalline veins, reflecting the brilliant blue sun above. "Look at this. This isn't normal."

"Yes," he nodded. "I've studied them. Everything here is alive. This isn't a simulation. It's… breathing."

"That's precisely what disturbs me!" she shouted, holding the leaf tighter. "Do you have any idea how many etheric users it would take to create this? Each one would need in-depth knowledge of biology, ecology, and physics—just to keep it coherent!"

He looked at her, calmly. Her mind was unravelling under the weight of her new life. He recognized the signs—he had been there not long ago. In time, she would adapt.

Their conversation was interrupted by a group of clones passing through the crystalline undergrowth. Their fur had changed, now covered in a fine fur of deep grey. Their four eyes were pitch black, their voices quiet but audible—discussing dream-borne ideas with each other in oddly serene tones. They wore robes of varied colours and patterns, unbothered by their new forms.

"Well," he said, gesturing toward them, "they seem to be adjusting well enough."

Ankrae just shook her head and retreated to her pond, sinking into the water with a defeated sigh. Her attempts at meditation were now acts of desperate self-preservation, clinging to sanity in the madness of their transformed minds.

Kraklak flew onward and found Trumek standing atop a vast slab of violet stone. The alien tower rose from the water like a monument. Trumek's six eyes stared into the horizon, hands shaping a rock in silence.

The sculpture took shape slowly, revealing a creature that resembled a winged reptilian predator. Two sets of glowing eyes, a jagged snout, massive wings coated in green and purple feathers. Kraklak observed it with fascination—until it vanished from Trumek's hand.

A shriek echoed above. Kraklak looked up to see the sculpted creature now alive, flapping its wings before it shot into the sky and vanished over the sea.

He stared in stunned silence. "What was that?"

Trumek turned, its voice hollow and serene. "The clones desired entertainment in this realm. I merely gave them more prey to test themselves against."

"That wasn't prey. Not for unarmed clones."

"They can create weapons—if they understand the materials and mechanisms needed. This is a realm of cognition, not limitation."

Kraklak felt pity. The clones could not truly die—but the horrors they could endure were… infinite.

Trumek snapped his fingers. A sphere of water rose from the ocean, flattening and solidifying into a crystal-clear screen. On it played the scene, the flying beast tearing through clones with tooth and claw.

They fought back with stone spears and arrows. They were primitive, but functional. When the creature breathed green fire, the jungle below ignited. Numerous clones burned until they were ash.

"Are they dead?" Kraklak asked quietly.

"No. It would be inefficient. They reform at random locations with their memory intact," Trumek replied. The screen shifted to show a vast wooden fortress. Clones patrolled its walls, others trained or forged new weapons.

"This… is their response?" Kraklak asked.

"Without a central leader, they've split into factions. Their instincts lean toward militaristic structure and meritocracy."

Another image appeared showing clones on other islands, fortifying strongholds, taming wildlife, forging tools. Some groups isolated themselves, tending to crops.

"Those?" Kraklak asked.

"I call them Seers. They rejected war and chose agriculture instead."

"But why?" he asked, baffled.

"They have shown a keen interest in agriculture and wish to experience it. They after all, mostly rebelled over food," Trumek replied.

"Wait—our war failed because of bad food?"

"Among other things."

Kraklak shook his head. The dreamscape had become a distorted mirror—of instinct, evolution, and buried resentment.

"How go the battles in the belts?" he asked finally.

"I will likely push past all resistance in the next seasons, but time is a factor," Trumek said, then turned toward Kraklak with cold interest. "But tell me… what does Aegirarch want with Veridia?"

Kraklak paused. That name always left a strange taste in his mouth. "I don't know," he admitted. "There's nothing there but Nullite. I doubt he needs more."

Trumek's six eyes continued staring at him for a few moments. "Then we both wait to see what he shall do next."