The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

Claws. Heat. Screaming spores.

I barely duck as something swings over my head—fast, wet, and jagged. A blade? A root? Don't know. Don't care.

My paws skid across the stone, embers flaring behind me as I twist. My lungs burn, my fur's half-singed, and my legs are aching from sprinting, dodging, surviving.

"Vex!" I shout, swiping upward. "A little help?!"

"I'm busy!" he snaps from somewhere to my left. Venomous Spines answers for him—CRACK—followed by a grunt that definitely wasn't his.

We're being hunted.

Seven.
Seven Advanced Myconids.

They dropped down from the tunnels like a trap slamming shut. No warning. No negotiation. Just violence. Me and Vex both thought—this is it. No way out. Too many. Too strong.

But then—

The sky opened.

A blur of black and silver streaked through the spore haze—wings, enormous and cutting clean through the swarm like a scythe. The Spikeward Mothkin.

They didn't speak. Didn't wait.

Just dived.

They tore through the cluster, grabbed their attention, and dragged four of them away into another tunnel—alone.

Which left me and Vex with the other three.

And they're not slowing down.

Mid-dodge, mid-roll, mid-chaos—

My brain just snaps.

"Nur really done it this time!" I growl, barely managing to duck a club of thorny muscle that swings for my face. "Why would she do this to meee?!"

I leap over a half-rooted corpse and barrel sideways, ears flat, flames trailing behind me.

"And with Vex too!!" I yell—probably louder than I should.

Vex grunts beside me as he parries another strike. "You're complaining about the company?!"

I leap to his side. "YES!!"

Good thing he can understand me now. I mean—kind of. Not perfect, not full sentences, but we've got… basic communication.

But still!

"Why couldn't she send me with Goldy? Or Victor? Or someone sensible?!"

Vex blocks a blow, gritting his teeth. "You're welcome for saving your tail three times already!"

"I was fine!"

"You were on fire!"

"That's literally my thing!!"

We spin back-to-back as the Myconids lurch closer.

Three of them left.

And I'm stuck with my least favorite person in the world.

Vex scuttles up beside me, breath rough, mandibles wide like it he about to eat a huge dinner

"Be careful," he mutters, tilting his head toward one of them. "That smug one with the weird beard? That's Yelinod."

I stare. "Yelinod?! As in spore-simmering, fancy-speaking, probably-has-a-personal-problem-with-Ypal Yelinod?!"

"Yeah. Like Ypal. A Myconid Sage."
He grits his teeth. "Got some score to settle with them."

"Oh great," I groan. "Nur really stuck me with the boss fight route."

I glance at the other two closing in and jab a paw in their direction. "Okay, what about them?"

"The pale one with the glowy cap? Smooth skin? Wavy viney bits?" Vex squints. "That's a Myconid Mender. Like Gyldis."

I stare.
The thing literally looks like it should be arranging flowers, not standing in a war zone. Gentle colors, soft body, all floaty and delicate.

"Ugh, healers," I mutter. "Bet they pretend to be nice and then grow thorns up your butt."

Vex snorts. "Wouldn't put it past them."

"And the third one?" I ask.

He pauses, glancing sideways.

Then just shrugs. "No clue. Looks angry. Smells like a compost heap."

"…Excellent."

So.
One grudge-holding Sage.
One suspiciously gentle healer.
And one big, angry, stinky mystery mushroom.

I glare into the tunnel fog.

"Nur, I hope you're comfy with Spiky because I am about to suffer."

Well—doesn't matter.
Because I'm raging with fire right now!

Literally.

My paws burn against the stone, little puffs of ember with every step. The heat's crawling up my legs, curling around my spine, flaring off my tail like smoke off a wildfire that just learned how to swear.

My fur's glowing. My breath steams. My teeth spark.

They're about to learn what happens when you back a fire wolf into a corner.

I growl low, flames licking the edges of my snarl.

"Alright, beard-cap, glow-stalk, mystery-fungus—"

I crouch, paws sizzling beneath me.

"Let's see how well you move when you're burning."

I bolt forward, claws scraping the stone, heat roaring in my chest.

Out of the trio, the stocky one catches my eye—broad arms, thick trunk, the type that looks like they train by body-slamming trees. Big mistake. I pick up speed, embers trailing behind me like a comet with attitude.

As I close in, they grunt and raise both arms—hands swelling, bulking up with fungal mass.

Oh. You're trying to smash me.
Cute.

Their arms swing down like a collapsing wall, slow and loud.

But I'm already gone.

I slide under it, paws skimming the ground, momentum carrying me up the side of their trunk—

And then—

I bite.

Not just anywhere—right at the base of the neck, where the cap meets the stalk. Classic. Unoriginal. Effective.

My fangs sink in with a wet hiss, heat pulsing from my jaws as I channel everything burning in me straight into the wound.

The Myconid spasms. Their body jerks, steam rising as the flesh sizzles and bubbles beneath my bite.

They try to pull back, but I'm locked in.

"Haha—HAHA! BURN!!" I cackle mid-chomp, steam, and smoke hissing out of the wound like a kettle on meltdown. "TASTE THE MIGHT OF DRAGON-WOLF-TESSA!!"

I'm practically singing as I gnaw through their neck, fire trailing down my jaws, eyes blazing—

And then—
YANK.

"Wha—?"

Something grabs me mid-bite.
A vine—slick, glowing, and way too polite for a battlefield—wraps around my middle like I'm some oversized chew toy.

"HEY—!"

And suddenly I'm airborne.

Yanked right off the big guy's neck and flung clean across the tunnel like a wolf-shaped fireball.

I hit the stone hard—bounce once, yelp—
and land in a very ungraceful, slightly smoking heap right beside Vex.

He stare.
I stare.

He raises an eyebrow. "Dragon-Wolf?"

I wheeze, paws in the air. "...Work in progress."

Vex doesn't even help me up.

He just sighs, glaring down at me like I've personally ruined his whole day.

"What part of 'that's the Myconid Sage who murdered two Veilstalkers and I barely got out alive' do you not understand?"

I look up at him, still a little crispy around the ears. "…Uhhh. The part after 'murdered.'"

He groans and rubs his face like it physically hurts to look at me.

"And while we're at it," he snaps, pointing with his forelimbs, "why did you go for the one that was basically screaming 'I'm a distraction, please hit me'?"

I follow his gaze.

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The stocky Myconid—the one I toasted with all the pride and screaming of a fiery lunatic—
is already healed.

Glowing vines wrap around their neck, sealing the scorch marks. That floaty Myconid Mender stands behind them like a smug spa attendant, gentle filaments pulsing with magic.

"…Oh come on!" I shout, scrambling to my feet. "I sizzled that guy! You saw it! It was all 'fsshh' and 'gahhgh!!'"

"Yeah," Vex deadpans, "and now he's fine. Congratulations."

Vex lets out a long, groaning hiss and paces in a tight arc, antennae twitching furiously.

"Unreal. This is unreal. I'm in actual fungus hell."

He glances back at the glowing Mender, then at me like I'm a curse dropped on his thorax.

"Maybe this is punishment. Some kind of cosmic slap for how I treated Nur."

I stare. "You bullied her?"

He grumbles. "No! I mean—I just poked at her. A lot. Constant comments, a few 'accidental' spine nudges, hiding her food. Classic brood sibling torment."

Then he stops mid-step. Stares blankly at the ceiling.

"…Wait."

His antennae twitch in dawning horror.

"Knowing Nur? She probably sent me with you on purpose. Just to piss me off."

I grin through the smoke. "Wouldn't put it past her."

We both glance toward the Sage again—Yelinod advancing with unsettling calm.

"Let's live through her petty revenge first," he mutters, bracing his mandibles.

Vex takes a deep breath beside me, puffing out spores like he's trying to exhale all his frustration into the air.

"Alright," he mutters, flexing his spines and glaring at the trio ahead. "Since Nur isn't here, I guess I'll have to be the smart one."

He twitches his antennae smugly.

"Which I naturally am in the first place."

I stare at him, deadpan. "You're the one who thought that spore trap two tunnels back was a 'decorative pit.'"

"That pit had excellent aesthetic design."

"You fell in it."

"Gracefully."

I groan, but he's already shifting into a lower stance, eyes locked on the Mender now instead of the bruiser.

"So. You gonna go full fire wolf again, or what?"

I grin, embers curling at my paws. "You already know."

"Then I'll handle the Sage. Try not to set me on fire this time."

"No promises."

He chuckles under his breath. "Let's make Nur proud, or at least mildly impressed."

"Or at least jealously furious."

"Better."

We charge forward.

It feels awesome for, like… three seconds.

Vex lets out a battle cry that sounds like someone gargling gravel. I'm sprinting beside him, tail flaring with heat, embers bursting at every step. It's like a dramatic mural in motion.

"Let's gooo!" I howl.

"Let's not die!" Vex yells.

We split—me aiming straight for the Mender, fire bursting from my claws, and Vex veering toward the Sage, mandibles wide like he's about to drop divine punishment.

And then—

Whack.

A vine slaps me sideways like I'm nothing more than a rebellious weed. I don't even get my dramatic lunge in. Just—

"WHUP—!"

Thud.

I hit a wall. Then the ground. Then maybe another wall? It's unclear. I'm rolling.

Meanwhile—

Vex, mid-swing, gets a face full of glowing spores. He yelps like a stepped-on grub and swings blind. The Sage doesn't even flinch. Instead, some weird root tendril punches him straight in the thorax and sends him flying past me like a very angry, slightly smoking cannonball.

He lands with a grunt right beside me.

We both lie there in a heap. Smoldering.

"…So," I wheeze. "That went great."

Vex groans. "I was clearly misinformed about our chances."

Vex groans, rolls onto his side, and pushes himself up with a wet squelch and a trail of venom still clinging to his mandibles.

"Alright, alright—no more messing around," he mutters, glaring at the trio like he's mentally circling them for revenge.

He spits off to the side—possibly blood, possibly spite.

"We need a real plan," he says, breath still ragged. "Because if we keep running in like idiots, we're gonna die."

I blink up at him from the floor, smoke still curling from my tail.

"…You just figured that out?"

"Yes."

"Love the confidence."

Vex ignores me, antennae twitching as he starts pacing like a venomous strategist. "Sage is the real problem. That one's controlling the field. Mender keeps everything patched. We either separate them or pick the right one to burn first."

I finally sit up, ears twitching. "So… new plan?"

Vex nods, eyes sharp now.

"Yeah. New plan. One that doesn't involve us being flung like trash again."

Vex crouches beside me, grumbling under his breath, antennae twitching like he's calculating something way too fast for his face to keep up.

"Alright, alright, think think think… mutter mutter… vines too thick… mutter fungal wall density... yes but if we… mutter-mutter surprise angles, venom layering…"

I stare at him. "Are you doing math right now?"

He ignores me. Dead focused.
Then suddenly—he smacks his forelimb against the stone.

"Got it."

"Oh boy."

He turns to me, eyes narrowed, mandibles twitching with this weird mix of confidence, and 'this is either genius or a horrible mistake.'

"We're not gonna fight their wall."
He jabs a limb toward the field. "We choke it."

I stare. "Choke what now?"

"No time—just follow my lead. You cook the back. I poison the roots. We don't let him build."

"And if he does?"

He smirks. "Then we melt it."

I grin. "Now you're speaking dragon."

We move.

Vex scuttles low and fast, his body already exuding a thin sheen of pale green venom that sizzles as it spreads across the stone. He sweeps it wide—quiet, deliberate—corroding the fungal terrain around the battlefield before anything can be summoned from it.

Meanwhile, I circle wide, flames curling around my legs. I pounce forward, claws dragging lines of heat behind me. With a burst of Ignition Pounce, I torch the path behind the Mender and the Sage, lighting up their safe zone like a bonfire-lit stage.

Nowhere to stand.
Nowhere to root.
Nowhere to hide.

Yelinod shifts—calm cracking, cap twitching.
He raises a hand to summon a wall.

Vex, already in place, spits venom in a sharp arc—
directly at the base of the roots forming the barrier.

The wall tries to rise—

And collapses.
Rotted. Eaten from below.

"Ohhh YES!" I howl. "Plan's working!!"

"No screaming yet!" Vex barks. "Still gotta make them suffer!"

Fair point.

Time to turn up the heat.

I charge the Mender head-on—no feints, no tricks, just blazing, teeth-bared fury.

The floaty, glowing cap thing twitches back in surprise, and I swear I see a flicker of fear in those soft glowing eyes. Good.

But then—

Yelinod intervenes.

And the vines come.

Thick, coiled, fast. They surge from the ground and walls like this whole tunnel's just one big plant waiting to grab me.

I brace—

Resign myself to instinct.

The world sharpens.

Instinctual Flow takes over.

My breath stills. My body moves.

I duck low—one vine slices through where my head was. I twist—another snaps just past my shoulder. I pivot on my back paws, tail swiping wide as I leap through the tangle like smoke through branches.

No hesitation.

No thoughts.

Just motion.

Every step, every dodge, every twist is a blur of fire, fangs, and momentum.

The vines try to predict me.

They can't.

The stocky Advanced Myconid, the one I singed earlier, suddenly steps forward with a guttural groan—its arms swelling again, this time into a massive fungal fist the size of my whole body.

"Oh no," I mutter.

They slam it down.

BOOOM—

The ground lurches. A shockwave rips through the stone like thunder under my paws, and I stumble—legs wobbling, balance gone.

I skid, almost fall—

And that's when I feel it.

A vine.

It whips around my leg, tight and fast.

"Oh no no no no—!"

I twist, panic surging—but it's too fast. It's gonna pull me into the air like a stupid fire piñata and—

THNK.

A sharp sound.
A flash of something silver-green.

A spine pierces the vine clean through, right where it wrapped around me.

It jerks—
and suddenly the vine starts twitching, its surface bubbling as it turns purple. Sickly. Rotting.

I look.

"Vex…" I gasp.

From across the field, he clicks his mandibles smugly.

"You're welcome."

I rip free from the rotting vine—its surface bubbling, collapsing like soggy paper—and I launch myself forward, eyes locked on that glowing, viney little Mender.

They panic, arms flaring out, and just as I'm mid-leap—

WHUMP—

A thick fungal wall erupts in front of me, dense and wide like a barrier of moldy stone.

But I don't stop.

I don't even slow down.

I press my claws into the surface—
fire bursting from my paws,
scorching heat burning a path straight through.

The wall hisses, melts, and collapses around me in a blast of smoke and spore steam—

I break through like a meteor—

But the Mender dodges.

Little floaty coward tucks and rolls like a puff of glitter and escapes behind a root shelf.

"Are you serious—!"

Then I hear it—
a rumbling stomp.

The stocky Advanced Myconid is winding up again, both fists swelling, rising high above its head.

Another shockwave.

But before it can slam—

THWIP! THWIP THWIP!

Spines pepper its back—rapid-fire shots from Vex, each one hissing with venom as they pierce the thick fungal hide.

The bruiser staggers, roaring in pain, fists dropping early and striking off-center with less force.

The ground trembles, but the wave's broken.

"Nice timing!" I shout.

Vex calls back, "You're welcome again! Keep count!"

I lock eyes with the Mender.

They're glowing soft. Fragile. Floating like they don't belong here—like this is some sacred grove ritual and not an all-out war zone.

No more misses.

I surge forward, claws tearing across the scorched ground, flames coiling with every step.

Yelinod reacts fast—vines burst from the stone, lashing out to intercept me, snag me, stop me.

But I'm faster.

Dodge left. Duck low. Leap over.

I weave through them, instinct pulsing like wildfire in my veins. Every move's already decided before I think it.

And the Mender?

They backpedal—too late.

I leap.

Fire trails behind me, and I crash through the last vine just as it snaps for my tail.

BAM.

I land hard, front paws slamming into the Mender's chest—

And before they can even blink—

Their head is in my jaws.

No ceremony. No warning.

CRUNCH.

The sound is wet, sharp, and final—like biting through a stuffed fruit full of sizzling jelly.

Their cap tears away in my jaws, steam hissing out as fire and fang do their job. Fungal fluids sizzle on my tongue, and there's a sharp snap as the inner stalk gives way.

Ssssssssshhhhh.

The heat lingers. Smoke curls around my muzzle.

I spit out the scraps, licking flame off my teeth with a wide, feral grin.

"Oooh, finally!" I cackle.
"Cooked mushroom!"

Somewhere behind me, Vex makes a gagging noise.

"Gross," he mutters. "You're eating them now?"

"Just a nibble!"

He glares. "You are unwell."

"Deliciously unwell."

One healer down.
Time to finish the rest.

I rear back and toss the Mender's head like it's yesterday's leftovers.

It hits the ground with a dull, wet plop, still steaming.

"Well," I mutter, wiping my mouth with a paw. "No time for cooked mushroom."

Vex stares at me, absolutely done.

"You need help."

"Later. We've still got Beard-Cap and Mister Punchy over there."

He cracks a smirk. "Alright then, Tessa. Let's finish the rest of the menu."

I spit out the last scraps and casually toss the Mender's head to the side—
thunk—it rolls once and flops like a badly deflated fruit.

"Well," I mutter, licking ash off my fangs, "no time for cooked mushroom."

I spin around, embers still trailing from my fur, and glance over at Vex—

And oh.

Looks like he's done too.

The stocky, punchy Myconid is slumped against the tunnel wall, its chest caved in and bristling with a forest of venom-laced spines. Its arms are twisted wrong, still twitching as if trying to throw one last punch from the afterlife.

Vex stands over it, mandibles flexed, venom still dripping from the tips of his forelimbs. Breathing hard. Spattered with rot.

He doesn't say anything.

Just looks at me, then nods once.

I nod back.

"Two down," I say, flicking my tail.

Vex turns slowly toward the last figure in the tunnel.

Yelinod.
Still standing. Still calm.
But for the first time… no one else between them and us.

"Let's make it three."

Yelinod stands there, utterly still.

Even after the chaos—
The fire. The venom. The exploding vines. The Mender's headless finale.
They haven't moved an inch.

The spores around us shift—almost like the air itself exhales.

And then—

A voice.

Not spoken aloud.
Not psychic.
But carried through the spores.

"Impressive," Yelinod murmurs, slow and smooth like rot soaking into silk.
"Impressive… for a mere caterpillar."
A pause.
"And a pup."

Vex clicks his mandibles, venom already bubbling again.
I flare my fur, embers hissing off my coat.

"Ohhh," I growl, stepping forward. "He talks now."

"Yeah," Vex says coldly. "Too bad he's gonna start screaming next."

The spores ripple again—thicker now. Heavier. Like the air's bracing for something wrong.

Yelinod tilts their cap slightly, filaments around their neck pulsing with a dim violet light.

"Then I have no choice…"
The words drift through the spores, cold and final.
"…but to show you the true power of an officer."

I stiffen.

Vex lets out a slow, venom-laced hiss. "Oh, great. Here we go."

Around Yelinod, the ground shifts.
Fungal veins glow brighter.
Moss curls upward like it's listening.

I dig in my claws, heat pulsing beneath my skin.

Then it happens.

The ground beneath us shudders, and suddenly—

CRACK.

Mycelium vines erupt in a violent cascade.

Not just from the floor—
but from Yelinod's own body.

Thick, pale tendrils burst through their torso, threading through their arms, neck, even their face—like they've become a walking hive for whatever this thing is.

And then—
BOOM.

Vines explode from the floor, walls, and ceiling all at once, like the entire tunnel system is blooming into some horrible fungal cage.

Unlike before—when vines came from one spot, one direction—
now they're everywhere.
Lashing, whipping, crawling like they're alive like they've been waiting.

I skid back, my heart pounding.

"Oh, that's NOT good!"

Vex hisses beside me, venom already pooling at his feet. "Okay. Yep. This is bad. This is officially very bad."

Yelinod raises a hand, completely calm as vines writhe around them like serpents obeying a silent command.

"This," their spore voice echoes,
"is the strength of an officer and a ritual bearer of the The Rot."

The whole tunnel's alive.
And we're stuck in the center.

The vines writhe. The ground pulses. The air reeks of rot and power.

We stand back-to-back now—me crackling with flame, Vex dripping venom, both of us surrounded by a blooming nightmare of fungal rage.

Yelinod doesn't move.

They don't need to.

Not anymore.

Because the battlefield isn't theirs.

They are the battlefield.

And if we want to survive this?

We're going to have to burn our way through everything.

End of Chapter 36