The Hollow Moth: Reincarnated as a Caterpillar

The air in Sporehaven's heart feels different. Lusher. Breathing it in doesn't just fill my lungs—it settles behind my eyes and hums at the base of my skull. The mushroom canopy above glows brighter than before. What used to be a place of quiet reverence now feels… awake.

We stand at the very core of it all: Ypal's chamber.

And there they are, perched atop the same massive cap as before—just like the first time we met them as a Myconid Sage. Except now they radiate something else entirely. Their gnarled form gleams with lines of blue-green light, the spirals across their body blooming like glowing runes. They don't move when they speak, but I feel it ripple through the air—through me.

"Ah. You are finally awake," Ypal says. "And it seems like most of you have evolved."

"Most?" I repeat. "It's just me, Goldy… and Tessa, technically. Though she evolved way earlier—"

"Oh yeah!" Tessa suddenly pipes up. "We totally forgot to mention—one of your siblings evolved too!"

She looks at me with wide eyes and an excited tail wag. "The Lesser Spiky Caterpillar one! You know, the quiet one that doesn't talk much?

I raise an eyebrow. "…Wait, that one evolved?"
Victor inclines his head slightly, ever composed. "Indeed, our kin has ascended—another thread woven into the grand tapestry of our brood's legacy."

I sigh. "Huh… here I thought I was the special one."

Ypal's glow hums gently, spirals of light pulsing from their cap. "I assume all of you are here to reforge the contract with your colony, yes?"

"Yes," Goldy answers without hesitation. "Let's get this over with."

I can't help myself. "What's with the rush? We go on a feast or something, Goldy?"

"If we are, I better get the biggest share," she grumbles from her cocoon, puffing out a low psychic whine. "Do you have any idea how miserable it is to hear everyone talk about food and not even have a mouth anymore?"

Victor chuckles softly. "Ah, such royal impatience. Even in stillness, your hunger reigns supreme."

Tessa giggles. "Don't worry, Goldy, I'll eat twice as much for you!"

"That's not how solidarity works, Tessa!" Goldy snaps.

Ypal lets the chatter settle before gesturing with a slow, deliberate motion. "Then let the ritual begin."

Victor steps forward with solemn care, carrying Goldy's cocoon across the bioluminescent floor. The silver-blue light of the chamber reflects off her cocoon's golden surface, casting ripples of color across the mushrooms below. He bows slightly as he approaches Ypal, his voice soft and formal. "With your leave, honored Ypal."

Ypal inclines their head in silent approval. As they reach out, their glowing hand makes contact with the cocoon.

The moment they touch, a deep hum resonates through the chamber—low and reverent, as if the mycelium itself is singing. Threads of glowing spores spiral upward from the ground and wrap gently around Goldy, forming glyphs in the air

A pulse of light flows from Ypal into Goldy.

The ritual is completed.

A new thread of psychic resonance ripples outward—firm, clear, and woven into the colony's rhythm.

Goldy exhales in relief, her voice light and smug in my mind. "Ha. Told you I'm royalty."

I stare. "That's it? The contract's forged just like that?"

Ypal nods, serene as ever. "Yes. The contract is complete."

From the massive fungal bloom beneath them, a thin layer of bark peels upward—curling into a neatly rolled scroll. It hovers briefly before floating down in Goldy's direction.

"Please deliver this to your Queen," Ypal continues. "It serves as physical proof of the renewed pact between our colonies."

Goldy grumbles through our link. "Uhhh... yeah, I would. If I had, you know, arms or something to grab it with?"

I sigh. "You evolved knowing you'd be stuck like that, and this is what catches you off guard?"

Victor, ever gallant, steps forward and delicately grabs the scroll with his mandibles. "Fret not. I shall carry this for the young highness."

Goldy lets out a psychic huff. "Fine. But don't drool on it or anything. That's official royalty stuff now."

Without a word, Victor begins drawing threads from his bristles—thin, silvery strands of silk. He moves with practiced elegance, weaving in deliberate, looping motions. In a few moments, he fashions a crude but refined little satchel out of silk and bark scrap, securing it with a twist around his thorax.

"There," he says with quiet satisfaction, "a humble satchel befitting the dignity of its contents."

He tucks the scroll inside gently as if handling a sacred relic.

Goldy lets out another grumble through the link. "Okay, okay, that's actually kind of cool."

I raise a brow. "Not bad, Victor. You starting a fashion line or something?"

Victor gives a slight bow. "Merely fulfilling my duty with style."

"All right," I say, stretching my body a little—bristles twitching like someone cracking their back. "We done our job, peace restored and all. Now what?"

Goldy's voice crackles through the link, smug as ever. "We proceed to the 4th Zone, of course!"

"Whoa, hold on there, young highness," I cut in, antennae flicking upward. "Vex is still sleeping off his rot coma, Spiky hasn't come back from his pilgrimage, and—hello? We haven't even said a proper farewell to Astor, Gyldis, or the others. And, most importantly…" I pause with deliberate weight.

Tessa perks up beside me, already grinning. "We haven't eaten yet."

"Exactly!" I thump my little silver mandibles together for emphasis. "Where's the celebration feast? The victory stew? The 'we didn't die horribly' dumplings? Priorities, people."

I can't see her face—what with her being a glowing golden cocoon right now—but I can feel it through the link. That subtle twitch of psychic static, the faint groan of suppressed outrage.

Yep. That's definitely the sound of Goldy being very annoyed at the mention of food.

She doesn't even say anything; she just radiates this silent wave of offended hunger.

I try not to laugh, but the smirk in my tone slips through anyway. "Touchy subject, huh?"

Alright then—let's go check on Vex.

We make our way through the tunnels, back toward the ritual site where we last saw him. The spores are thinner now, the rot completely gone, replaced by a clean, earthy scent that reminds me of rain-damp forests. Tessa walks beside me, tail swaying lazily, and Victor follows with that ever-poised, silent stride, Goldy strapped securely in her makeshift silk satchel. The path is quieter than before—no more tension in the air, no creeping mycelium vines curling underfoot. Just stillness.

As we turn a corner, we see them—Astor and Gyldis.

"There you are," Astor says, voice composed as always. Their vine limbs are back to normal, though the tips still glow faintly from residual energy. "The whole colony is in the process of cleansing the battlefield. Every fallen Myconid will be gathered and returned to our compost chambers. Their sacrifice won't go to waste."

Gyldis offers a quiet nod, eyes dim but warm. "It was… hard-fought. But worth it."

I nod, the weight of it all sitting just under my ribs. "How's Vex?"

Gyldis answers softly, "We've moved him to the sleeping chamber, where he can rest and recover properly. Sairn is watching over him." They pause for a breath, then add, "We also moved your fallen sibling... and preserved them beside the chamber, just as Victor requested."

I glance at Victor, who dips his head solemnly.

Of course, he did. Ever the one who remembers the details the rest of us don't know how to carry. I swallow the lump rising in my throat. "Thanks," I say quietly. "We'll go see him."

We make our way toward the sleeping chamber, the path softer than I remember—mossy ground giving way to those oddly bouncy, comfy mushrooms that always feel a bit too plush for a battlefield aftermath.

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Goldy, being carried in Victor's silken satchel, suddenly speaks up, her voice quieter than usual. "Our fallen sibling…"

I glance toward her. "Yeah?"

"I promised her I'd eat her corpse," she continues. "But with the way I am now…"

"Yeah," I say, "she definitely did ask that. Said it super casually too, like she was asking you to save her some fries."

There's a pause. Then, Goldy lets out a long psychic sigh. "Hey, Nur… this might be too much to ask, but… can you eat her in my place?"

Well… I never really got used to the idea of cannibalism.

I mean, sure, we're monsters now, and technically it's just instinct or tradition or whatever, but still. Eating a sibling? That's the kind of thing that should feel wrong on a soul-deep level, right?

And yet.

With everything I've been through—the death, the rot, the screaming, the losses—maybe it's not that bad. Maybe honoring a promise like that, in a place like this, in a world where survival is a kind of prayer… maybe it's just another way to remember her.

Or maybe I'm just too tired to argue.

Goldy's voice drifts softly, hesitant now. "Nur… can you? I'd understand if you can't. Y'know, with your previous life stuff and all."

I pause. The silence stretches.

In my head, I'm already spiraling. Human morality, what's left of it, twists like a frayed thread. I used to have lines—bright, clean lines. But this world doesn't just blur them. It eats them.

You know what?

Fuck it. I'll do it.

I exhale. "Yeah," I say, voice steady. "I'll eat her in your place, sista."

Goldy's tone softens, quieter than I've ever heard her—no smugness, no hunger, just something raw.

"Thank you," she says.

It's not loud. It's not grand. But it lands heavy. A promise kept. A burden passed. A strange kind of mourning, in the only way we monsters know how.

From the side, a voice chimes in—Tessa, sounding half-curious, half-genuinely confused.

"Wait, Nur… Goldy knew you were a human before?"

Goldy and Victor both freeze for a moment, and then—like a cursed duet—they exclaim in perfect unison:

"Human?!"

…Oh, damnit, Tessa.

Tessa tilt her head slighty. "Wait—they don't?"

I let out a long, tired sigh. "Yeah. They don't. Not exactly. But they do know I—no, we—have memories from our past life. That much I told them."

Goldy squints at me. "That's… not the same thing, Nur."

Victor, ever so polite, simply tilts his head. "A most fascinating revelation, indeed. Yet, I must avow, I harboured my suspicions. Your comportment is unlike any being I have chanced upon in all my ponderous years."

Goldy pouts. "And you never told us? Like, for real told us? With details?"

I shrug, avoiding their eyes. "Would you have believed me if I said I used to be a stressed-out teenage girl who liked to sulk alone and ace science papers?"

Goldy tilts her cocoon slightly. "Okay, actually… yeah. That checks out, though I have no idea what you just said."

Victor just nods, calmly. "Indeed. That aligns unsettlingly well with your temperament."

Tessa grins, not even sorry. "Oops."

Victor dips his head ever so slightly, antennae flicking in what passes for grave decorum. "Well, this is truly something indeed. But dear sister Nur, if you ever have—or will have—the occasion to meet our dearest Mother again, I must strongly advise you… please refrain from mentioning this subject altogether."

I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah. I had an itch about it the moment she mentioned the word 'human'. Something about the way she said it made my bristles tense. Mind telling me what her problem is?"

Victor's tone softens, but only slightly. "I do not know the full tale. None of us do. But it is clear she bears a deep history with them. One not written in fondness."

Well, now the cat's out of the bag.

I keep walking, but my chest tightens. I don't know whether or not I'll still be accepted as part of the brood. I mean, technically, I'm one of them, but technically, it doesn't always mean emotionally. And this—this reincarnator stuff—it's not a little secret. It's something else entirely. Something that could make me seem... other.

"Sorry," I murmur, turning my head just enough for them to hear. "For hiding it from you all. I hope… I hope you'll still accept us. Me and Tessa. As part of the brood."

Goldy snorts through the psychic link, her resonance loud and dramatic. "Geez, look at Miss Drama Queen here."

I look up.

"You were with us this whole time, right? Of course, we'd accept you. Besides, without you or Tessa, our brood wouldn't even be alive now. So shut up and stop being weird about it."

A beat of silence passes. Then I let out a small, tired laugh.

That's… good enough for me.

Tessa pads up beside me, her presence as warm as ever even in this quiet moment. She leans her shoulder against mine—not enough to knock me over, just enough to be there.

"Nur," she says softly, "if being human before changes anything... then I guess I'm different too. 'Cause I wouldn't trade our time together for anything. Not even my old life."

I glance at her. She's not smiling—she's serious. Her voice doesn't have that usual clumsy cheer. It's grounded, real.

"And if anyone ever has a problem with that…" She bares her fangs slightly. "They'll have to deal with me. Got it?"

Goldy snorts again in the link. "Pfft. So dramatic."

Victor chimes in, as regal as ever. "Truly, the strength of kinship transcends flesh and memory."

And just like that, my heart feels a little steadier.

We round the last bend, and there it is—the sleeping chamber. The air grows softer, the light dimmer, sporedust floating like sleepy stars. But right outside, leaning casually against a cluster of bioluminescent stalks is a familiar silhouette.

The Myconid Howler straightens as we approach, voice clear but low, carried on a thread of ambient spores.
"There you are," they say. "I've been waiting. I just wanted to give a proper thank you—for everything. For helping our colony... and for saving me during the war."

Their posture isn't rigid like most myconids. There's a flicker of something in the tone. Humility, maybe. Or... relief?

Tessa tilts her head. "You're welcome," she says before I can.

I nod slowly. "You fought with us. You didn't have to, but you did. We all survived because of each other."

The Howler hums—a soft, vibrating chime that I've come to recognize as their version of a smile. "Still, I wanted to say it. Words have weight, even among spores."

Victor offers a short bow, and Goldy grumbles something about too much talking and not enough mushroom-bed-flopping.

I breathe in deep. We're almost home.

"Don't mention it," I say, brushing it off with a tired wave. "Besides... it was you, wasn't it?"

The Myconid Howler tilts their head slightly, that constant low hum in their chest stilling for just a moment. "It was me what?"

I narrow my eyes. "Don't play dumb. You were masking the ritual's noise, weren't you? The whole time the ascension ritual was going, we only heard a single pulse. But that doesn't make sense. For an ascension to complete, there should be three."

A quiet settles between us.

Tessa eyes widened,, then mutters, "Wait, there's supposed to be three?"

Victor's eyes glint with recognition. Goldy snorts. "Hah. I knew something was fishy about how quiet it was."

The Howler lets out a low, slow exhale. Not quite a sigh. "...You noticed that?"

I nod. "Barely. But yeah."

They lower their gaze slightly. "Yes. That was me. I masked the second and third pulses. If Orbed had caught on, he would've known the ritual was almost done. He would've gone after Ypal directly instead of wasting time with us. It wasn't much, but... it bought us those few extra minutes."

They look up, unflinching now. "It was the least I could do. For what you did for our colony."

"Pat yourself on the back sometimes, buddy," I say, giving them a tired smile. "You did an amazing job there."

The Howler's cap twitches slightly, a faint shimmer of bioluminescence rippling across their fungal body like a bashful blush. They let out a breathy, almost-laughing puff of spores.

"Coming from you… I'll take that," they reply quietly. "Thank you."

The Myconid Howler inclines their head slightly, their voice steady and composed once more. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going back to my duty."

They turn, soft mycelium tendrils brushing the ground as they drift away into the thickening light of the chamber, already half-blending with the spores and moss. Just like that, gone—no fanfare, no farewell. Just a quiet resolve and the weight of a job well done.

"…Cool guy," Tessa murmurs beside me.

According to Gyldis, she should be somewhere… I trail off, scanning the chamber's soft fungal walls and the spore-lit gloom that hums with warmth and quiet grief.

Then I see it.

"Ah… there it is."

I step closer, my limbs slow. Nestled in a gentle cradle of mushroom caps and cushioning moss, the corpse of our fallen sibling lies preserved—her bristles dulled, her body still, but somehow… peaceful. Pale fruiting bodies sprout around her like a soft blanket, blooming from the soil and the edges of her frame, almost as if the colony itself refused to let her go completely.

I reach out and gently lift her, the weight unfamiliar but not heavy. The preservation worked—she's intact, surrounded by the scent of earth and faint sweetness, no rot, no decay.

She looks like she's just… sleeping.

I hold her close. Not too tight. Just enough that I can feel the delicate tension in her shell, the faint impression of who she used to be. A part of me still wants to pretend she'll wake up.

But no. She won't.

She fought. She died. And I promised.

I glance over my shoulder. Goldy's cocoon rests silently behind Victor, who watches me with that unreadable, calm gaze of his—like he's bracing for what comes next. Tessa, for once, doesn't speak. She just looks at me, uncertain, soft-eyed.

I turn forward.

One deep breath. Then another. My mandibles tremble slightly before I still them. "Alright… I'll start with the thorax. That's where most of the strength lies anyway."

It feels wrong at first. Not because of the taste. Because I know this body. I knew her. A broodmate. I remember the way she once clicked in irritation when Goldy tried to steal food. How she curled protectively in battle. How she always moved toward the danger without hesitation.

And now I consume her.

Each bite is small. Respectful. Almost ceremonial. I don't devour her like prey—I take her into me with purpose. The way Goldy would've. The way she asked me to. The way our kind always have.

Bitter. Earthy. Familiar.

No words. Just chewing and silence. Then swallowing and more silence.

Until there's nothing left but the softened caps she lay on, and the twitching quiet in my gut. I exhale.

"…It's done," I say softly.

For a moment, no one speaks. Then Goldy's voice echoes faintly from her cocoon. "Thank you."

Victor gives a solemn nod. "May her strength carry on within you, Sister."

I close my eyes. I hope it will.

We step inside, the chamber dimly lit by the soft bioluminescence of fungal growths clinging to the walls. Mushrooms the size of stools pulse gently with slow light. The floor is spongy underfoot, and the air smells like wet soil and clean decay.

I thought I'd just see Vex snoozing like before—sprawled out, maybe snoring through his spines or something. But no. He's not lying there.

He isn't there.

Instead, in the center of the chamber is… a cocoon.

A dark purple mass, glossy and thick, faintly veined with glowing green. It's shaped like a curled-up ball, dense and silent, and immediately I know.

"Wait—he's in a cocoon too?" I mutter, inching forward.

Sairn, perched calmly beside it, raises a hand-like cap in greeting. "Oh, there you are."

Tessa leans in beside me. "That's Vex? Seriously? I didn't think he'd be the cocooning type…"

Goldy's voice hums with disbelief from behind, "Huh. Guess he really did push himself past the limit."

Victor steps up beside Sairn, inspecting the cocoon with a slow nod. "His spines are darker… more saturated. Whatever his next stage is, it will not be subtle."

I squint at the cocoon. "That idiot. He didn't even tell anyone, he just… went ahead with it."

Sairn tilts their head. "He evolved not too long ago. We transported him here as soon as it happened."

Then—just as I'm about to say something else—a low, familiar voice echoes faintly from the cocoon.

"…Don't talk like I'm dead, dumbasses."

I freeze. Tessa gasps. Goldy lets out a squeaky psychic "Wha—?!"

Victor, of course, keeps his composure. "Ah, brother. You remain as eloquent as ever, even half-wrapped in metamorphic silk."

The cocoon twitches slightly, a ripple of green light pulsing through its surface. "It's cramped in here. I can hear everything. Just resting, not rotting."

"Wait, so you're conscious?" I ask, stepping closer.

"Unfortunately," Vex mutters. "You think I'd cocoon and not keep an ear out? I'm not you, Nur."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

Tessa beams. "He's fine. I knew he was too stubborn to die."

Vex hums from within the cocoon. "Dying's inefficient. Got too much shit to do."

Despite myself, I grin. "Well, rest up then, idiot. You better come out strong."

From inside, a faint but amused: "You know I will."

And just like that, the chamber feels warmer.

End of Chapter 45