The forest of roots was too dense to fly through. A lone dragonfly, carapace as blue as sapphires, picked her way through the dense, twisting maze. Her wings held limp at her sides, rounded tips barely brushing the ground, as she scuttled forward on four legs, and her hands clasped beneath her thorax.

A rustle of plant life from movement other than her own gave her pause. Her lone functioning eye peered out into the poorly lit gloom as a beetle scurried out from the undergrowth. The bug moved with the simplistic awareness of a beast, its shiny black eyes void of the spark of intelligence reflected in the dragonfly's own.

Prey.

Faster than her small stature implied, the dragonfly darted forward and caught the beetle. She held it in her hands and one set of legs in a vice grip as her grey mandibles cracked its shell open and ended the creature's life in a swift bite to its head. Her meal ceased its struggles and chitin and flesh caved to the pressure of her jaws as she ate.

A meagre meal to others of her kind perhaps, but to her, being less than half their size, the beetle would sustain her for the rest of her waking cycle. She had been on the road for quite some time since leaving her home kingdom of Odonata and there were many reasons a bug of her ilk would choose to leave.

Her hatch mates had left to pursue more challenging prey.

Her father had left to chase some other drahka.

She had been asked to leave. With a mind rich in knowledge, an affinity for the Rituals of Life and Soul, and a body more Flawed than the rest of her kin. Her rulers had appointed her with the role of Soul Bearer and sent her beyond the kingdom's borders.

One was sent every generation, too flawed, too different, to live among their kind, but with skills that could not go to waste. Soul Bearers were an example of life's resilience, its capacity to flourish and return in areas long thought to be dead and filled with nothing but the regrets of eras long past. With nothing but the wings upon her back and the skills honed over her youth, the young dragonfly had set off to find somewhere new to settle, to do her duty.

As she ate, she took in the serenity of the forest around her. From the roots that stretched down from the cavern ceiling and burrowed deeper into the soil beneath her feet. Bioluminescent grass grew in clumps through cracks in the ground and small shrubs and greenery littered the forest floor. The ground was soft and moist, and everything was thriving with life energy that she could sense. It settled into her chitin with a coolness akin to swimming in the cleanest, purest waters.

This place was flourishing, prey was plenty, but this was not where she needed to be. This forest was a place for others to settle in. It was a pleasant respite from the harshness of her cycles of travels and she ate in comfortable silence, basking in the life around her.

When the last remains of her meal was devoured, she wiped the excess haemolymph of her hands and feet and kept moving. The sound of insects skittering away from her, the sounds of life and an ecosystem independent of her actions became the ambiance of her journey.

So, when the sound of music drifted into the natural score of her surroundings, her curiosity was piqued, and she followed it.

It was reminiscent of festival music yet had an undertone of mystery. And as she wandered out of the forest, she stopped at the sight before her. A large red tent, the entrance looked like a white mask with two eye holes and an open mouth that glowed with a red light. The music was coming from inside the tent, and the sight of the big top was something the dragonfly had to take a moment to process.

All Soul Bearers were taught of the Higher Beings they may met upon their journey, from any number of Pale Beings to the voiceless Lord of Shades.

"Should you see the red tent of the Troupe Master, in the midst of his own Ritual, he will aid you for you two share a common goal. To make way for the era that is to come," Her mentor had instructed, oh so long ago. "Be wary if his home appears on the long road of your journey, for you have not found him…"

"The Nightmare King has found you."

She weighed her options, she had no clue what his Ritual entailed, but she had been raised to show respect to others she may meet, and this was part of her nature.

She stood before the entrance of the tent wondering what The Nightmare King would want with a bug like her.

There was only one way to find out.

The inside of the tent was dark, rich red cloth framed by the flicking light of red torches that hung from the ceiling. Her wings buzzed as she passed the lone bug playing an accordion off to the side.

Something about the bug was wrong, a deep unsettled wrongness that crawled across her chitin and rolled across her Soul Sense that sent her skittering further into the tent. She stepped into the large, dark room that lay beyond.

Torches and lanterns burst to life with red flame. She was on a stage, a crowd of masked creatures in red hooded robes sat in the stands that surrounded the room and cheered as something appeared in a burst of red flame.

A tall bug, black horns pointed upwards, form concealed by a black and red cloak, or perhaps wings, she couldn't tell. Red, glowing eyes set into a white mask-like face peered down at her in amusement.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said, his voice soft and raspy. "I am Grimm, the master of this troupe."

He smiled. "I've been expecting you."

She nodded her head in respect. "Hello, my name is Dragoon," she fumbled to find the right words, nervous in the face of the sheer amount of soul the Troupe Master was emanating. "I'm not sure what you expect of me, but I'm a decent huntress and can fill your storers with food if need be."

"That would be most useful, in truth, I require your assistance," Grimm replied with a flourish and a smirk. "Tell me Little Soul Bearer, how much did The Huntslord tell you about my duties?"

Dragoon supposed it made sense he would know of her kingdom's eternal protector, a higher being that was a God of Hunting, just as he was aware of her status as a Soul Bearer.

"Admittedly not much. I am aware you cleanse ruined lands of the pain left behind so new life can flourish in it's place, and that you rule over The Nightmare Realm, but I do not know the specifics." She explained.

"I gather the nightmares and memories left behind by the dead and dying, coalesced in the form of flames which sustain The Nightmare Heart," Grimm said as he walked forward and peered down at her. "But alas, if only it were that simple. The flames must be stored in a vessel, stoked and nurtured as the vessel grows before the heart can accept them…"

Grimm waved a hand at her. "A vessel able to store such power cannot be made, Soul Bearer, they must be born. Hatched and raised as any other bug."

It took a moment for her to understand what was being said, but when the pieces fell into place…

"Ah, I see."

She hovered off the ground, wings buzzing as she flew back and forth, absentmindedly pacing in the air as she thought. Half-formed worries and plans bubbled to the forefront of her thoughts and she was oblivious to the Troupe Master watching her intrigued.

She turned to face him, hovering at his eye level. "So, you would ask me to bear you a child? What would become of them? Or you?"

"The final part of The Ritual requires the flames stored within me be transferred to my child, in turn this form will perish, and my will transferred to the child to be restored once the child finishes their final molt into adulthood." Grimm explained.

"Well, that's even worse," Dragoon pointed out bluntly. "You would not only ask me to accept you as a mate, but I must sacrifice both my mate and my child to ensure your ritual succeeds, that is beyond cruel for a bug of my kind."

Grimm nodded in sympathy. She could see it weighed on him, a burden as much as it was a duty. "It was different, once, but I have been forced to improvise and make do for some time now."

She hummed, back to pacing mid-air once more. "Perhaps we could devise a new alternative? It's clear you had the means to process the flames yourself, what happened?"

Grimm barked out a laugh, a rasping thing that made her snap her gaze over to him. He was surprised, a gleeful sort of joy and the beginnings of hope burning in his glowing eyes. His good mood faded as he sighed and brushed past her, with a hand gesture for her to follow him.

"Come Little drahka, this is a discussion best held in comfort and privacy."

She was led into a back room of the tent into a small room with cushions and blankets covering the floor in the clear signs of a nest. A single red lamp hung from the ceiling and bathed the room in a warm red hue. Grimm graciously settled down on a pile of pillows and Dragoon flew over to a pile of blankets and landed in the middle of them. She tucked her legs beneath her and pulled a pillow towards her to rest her head on, tucking her arms beneath her body.

"Comfortable?" Grimm asked, amused.

She lifted her head up to nod before letting it fall back onto the pillow.

Grimm waved a hand, the image of a moth with a three-pronged crown growing out of its head appeared in a burst of red fire.

"Once, my sister, the god of dreams, worked alongside me to maintain the balance between dreams and nightmares. Stoking the flames was done within The Nightmare Realm, I would feed upon the fears of the living and that fear would nourish the fires that fuel The Nightmare Heart," Grimm explained. "Such feeding was possible due to my sister balancing out the feeding process with pleasant dreams to soothe the minds of the bugs I fed upon."

"But no one dreams anymore." Dragoon stated, dread settling into the pit of her stomach.

"My sister was angered, greatly so, and her rage killed any shred of compassion, of duty she had," Grimm said and shook his head slowly in disappointment. "What dreams exist are filled with her anger and insanity. Were I able to do something about it, I would have. But I cannot forsake my own duties to chase after hers… And with my methods of feeding lost to me, an alternative had to be found."

"That was many cycles ago, there are many days where I forget I ever did the ritual differently, that there was once another way." Grimm said ruefully.

"Surely the side effects of feeding can be soothed in the waking world?" Dragoon asked. "The mind can be soothed in many ways. Food, music, the mere presence of a loved one…"

Grimm blinked. The conversation fell to the wayside for a moment as she watched his face scrunch up in thought. "It would have to be tested…" he finally said.

"Should you need a volunteer, I'm happy to oblige-"

He waved her off. "No, I will not risk it, I need you should this fail…"

She cut him off, indignation rising in her voice as she sat up, abdominal segments curling up as she sat on her back pair of legs. "You make it sound as if I don't have a say in this." She caught herself, mandibles clacking shut.

"You have every right to refuse, I merely jumped to conclusion," Grimm replied calmly. "Should we need to use the ritual as it stands now, both participants must be willing for my seed to take."

"I want to help," she said firmly, gesturing at the higher being. "It has always been my life's goal to be of aid to others, from raising Nymphs in the Nursery Lake to rearing crustaceans on my farm. I have done nothing but care, nurture, and teach all my life and I find joy in it. Furthermore, I am not ignorant to the desire to breed, no blind to my own body's urges, and would be a fool not to consider your call for assistance."

"And I am not so arrogant as to demand your cooperation, I can indulge and find my own solace in the ritual. Courtship is a beautiful thing after all, and I too desire the simple joys of companionship," Grimm said. "I will do all I can to accommodate you if you are truly willing to aid me."

"And if I refuse?"

Grimm dipped his head in respect. "Then you are free to go, and I will find someone else."

"Hm, I always assumed I had no choice when dealing with higher beings…" Dragoon mused. "My own mentor was The Lord of the Hunt, the Steel Scorpion himself. Between tales of Pale Beings, The Soul Keeper, and what little I've heard of you, it always seemed like a mere bug like myself would be better off simply going along with the will of such greater creatures…"

Grimm laughed. "As one so intertwined with minds of mere bugs, I understand that respect and empathy go farther than blind obedience and reverence," His laughter turned bitter. "If only my sister had followed my example."

"Can she not be reasoned with?"

Grimm shook his head. "I tried, but if pleading for her to remember that greater picture, her duty, her people, her brother," he hissed, eyes glowing with spite. "If I could step away from my duties, I would take her power for myself to pass on to one more mindful of the power inherent in dreams."

Dragoon emphasized with him, she could see the damage The Radiance had inadvertently caused stretched beyond whatever kingdom she was tangled up in.

"You are quite spirited," Grimm mused after a moment, smiling fondly. "What sort of kingdom do you see yourself making in the future? Your goal is to restore one of the lands I cleanse after all, the eventual end of your long journey."

It was something she had thought about in the seasons since leaving her birthplace. With only her own thoughts for company she had nothing to do but think and plan. It was calming in a way, to take stock of what she could do and envision the result.

"I want to make a land that is self-sustaining, that does not need me to maintain it and wil exist long after any kingdom that rises within has long crumbled to dust," Dragoon replied sincerely. "I want to make a home for the lost, the abandoned, for those who have nowhere else to go. I am willing to work to make this a reality. I expect to."

Her mandibles twitched as she fiddled with the corner of the pillow beneath her. "The idea of being a ruler doesn't sit well with me," she admitted. "A farmer, or a caretaker perhaps, but a queen? I do not have the exoskeleton for that level of authority."

"Ah, what a humble goal you have," Grimm agreed. "But even so, I will not risk you coming to harm by attempting to bring out and feast upon the nightmares within you… But your idea has merit, an avenue I had not considered."

"Something to work on?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I will see what can be done with what I have with my disposal," Grimm said. "Your offer to provide food is still appreciated regardless, and in the cycles to come I advise you to think about my proposal. Even if we succeed in returning the ritual to it's former state… I would still gladly accept the companionship our union would be born from."

Dragoon had stubbornly ignored the fact that a higher being was interested in her. It was unbelievable and she barked out a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Why me?" she asked.

"Why not?" Grimm countered. "My mates are never the best of the best, some were chosen out of convenience, others for some trait or quality that caught my interest, and a clawful sought me out instead of the other way around."

"I daresay my interaction with you thus far has only sparked my interest more!" he said with a sweeping wave of an arm. "I took interest in you due to what I could sense of you, a passionate soul tempered by a deep well of empathy, armed with a wealth of knowledge and the will to survive that does your people proud."

His admission stole her ability to speak for a moment and Grimm looked rather smug at her reaction.

Notes

Drahka: a female dragonfly.

Most sapient bugs speak Invertae as either their first or second language. The dragonflies of Odonata use certain words of their native language, Drahgofi, alongside the universal bug language.

The passage of time is based on Waking and Resting Cycles instead of day and night. Bug ages are determined by what life stage they're on, how many molts they've undergone, and for adult bugs, how many breeding seasons they've lived through. So, instead of years, we have Seasons.

Dragoon is basically a wandering Soul Priestess.