Higher beings...these words are for you alone….
What existed before the ancient ones? Of them is known so little. Was it they who discovered or created these tunnels and caverns? Were they truly first? Or just...before? They were the ones who ventured the deepest. Of that much is certain. Was that the secret to their success? Was it what they found? Found? Or created? Did they thrive because of how they learned to use it? Or did that ever-existing sea of living nothing bring about their end? Futile to dwell, really. Little remains of those titans other than their empty shells.
When did the being of dream and light enter the stream of history? How far back in its flow will you find her? Could it be she coexisted with the ancient ones? Or did she lay claim to an empty land? Only those with the longest memories can testify it was she who created mothkind in her image. Other bugs existed in her domain. None had much to say. Language is minimal and basic at this time. Hunters hunted. Prey feared being hunted but only while they were being hunted. They thought of mates. Of building nests and defending young. They thought nothing of home, only the dwellings they made from whatever they could find. They thought little of family. Once offspring left the nest there was no wonder of how they fared. There was no concept of order. Everything just happened in cycles. Exploration was only prompted by the search of food, shelter or a mate. No one traveled for travel's sake. Why would they? Curiosity and wonder required an understanding of one's place in the world and the world around them as a whole. Few bugs at this time possessed the ability to look inward and consider themselves. Those that did seldom associated with those that couldn't. The conversations were understandably dull. Besides, they had a goddess to revere.
Before going any further it would be prudent to make aware the ancients and mothkind were not the only ones to call corners of this land home. What began as nests and hives evolved into societies and kingdoms for the sporefolk, mantids, spiders and waspkind. Who arrived first? Who settled first? Who arrived last? Who grew the quickest? Alas, more questions destined to go unanswered. But of one event that brought a great renaissance to the land there can be no question: The arrival of the Pale Being.
No one but he knew where he came from. Not one but he could testify to the number of lands he'd seen. How many had borne witness to his enormity? How many ages had he seen? No one but he could say why he chose this land. No one but he could explain why he shared his wisdom. Perhaps he saw potential and wished to nurture it. Perhaps he desired to be worshiped as a god. No one but he could say if the awakening of minds occurred before or after the great metamorphosis. Bug kind could think, wonder and understand in ways they never could. But what to do with these thoughts? They could ask why about themselves, question the world around them. But to what end? What good was there having the concept of purpose only to be left questioning how to get one?
In his true form the mighty wyrm was too massive, too long, too imposing and, honestly, frightening to closely guide the land he had claimed. Such was the reason for the great metamorphosis. He needed a form that could easily travel through the land and beside his future subjects. All that he was had to be concentrated into a body a mere fractions fraction of his size. What emerged would be known soon after as The Pale King.
He named this land and his kingdom Hallownest. He taught bugs how to think, how to build, how to read and offered these gifts to anyone. Under his guidance the land flourished. For the first time dwellings were built out of more than just mud, leaves or holes in the dirt. For the first time friends were made now that they could understand what that meant. Bugs sang and danced for no other reason than joy. For the first time bugs lived in close proximity without being on guard to protect their resources. Food and materials were shared and traded. That had never happened before.
Bugs wanted more. The first generations learned and grew exponentially. Civilization returned to the underground. Somehow in this time of renaissance caught the attention of a powerful being, a beautiful root. He caught her attention. She caught his eye. No one knows how a wyrm goes about wooing a root but it must have been persuasive for she became his queen.
King, queen and growing kingdom. Grand tunnels and even grander cities and towns. The grandest of all was the Palace.
There were neighboring kingdoms of allies and enemies. Waspkind chose to keep to themselves. The Mantids fiercely rejected integration into Hallownest. They agreed to keep the creeping things of Deepnest at bay in exchange for the demand to be left alone honored. Sporefolk and Mothkin were enthralled and eagerly accepted the kingship of the pale one.
But, while the history of the eternal kingdom is unquestionably fascinating, this story takes a place a long, long while after the foundations were laid solid. An apology may be owed as well. This story is not following the Pale King despite him being the reason it can even be told. Soon you will be introduced to Calidae. Soon, but not yet. The events that led to her being are worth sharing as well. So we begin with the love story of Lucan and Duva, quite possibly the unlikeliest pair in all of Hallownest.
For expediency, the introduction and recounting of their first meeting will be summarized.
Lucan was a type of stag beetle. Like his brothers, sister and parents he chose to serve and revere the Pale King from a military standpoint. Hallownest was already vast and still slowly expanding its borders. Those who were willing and strong became soldiers to serve in the kings army.
When he was young, Lucan and his squadron were sent to train in the wilderness to hone their survival skills. On their march the squad crossed paths with a troupe of traveling minstrels. Their presence provided the squad an opportunity. The supervising captain made arrangements to have his trainees serve as protective escorts for a few days. They were instructed to watch over the gypsy band as though they were the king's own caravan. The troop got their first taste of real-life patrols. The soldiers to-be jumped at the opportunity. By the time it came for the groups to part, the troupe leader insisted they stay for a full-scale performance as a way of thanks.
No longer focused on his duty, Lucan saw the lovely Duva for the first time.
Duva was a dark-haired blue-winged butterfly. Like her parents and troupe family she chose to serve and revere the Pale King through word, song and dance. Bugs could sing for the purpose for joy, not only wooing a mate. They understood the concept and purpose of poetry and dance. Naturally many ballads and poems were dedicated to the one who made it all possible.
Born into the traveling troupe, all bugs, regardless of species were family. Together they composed songs, played music and wrote plays. Duva could do it all. She played many instruments, was a fair actress and was outshone in song only by her beloved cousin, Marissa, who lived with her family in a different traveling troupe. Though none challenged her mastery in the art of dance.
It came as no surprise that Duva had a star role in the complimentary performance the night our lovers met. She took center stage with a song and dance number. A true performer, no place felt more right than in front of an audience. So why did the way that handsome youth looked at her made her stomach flutter like the tickles of stage fright? Duva hadn't felt nervous on stage for years. Yet right then she was keenly aware of his gaze. But that wasn't a bad thing. She didn't understand it, but for some reason every step, every note, had to be special just for him. Duva couldn't explain why she wanted to talk to him after the show. She had no idea what she even wanted to say. But no sooner had the last applause faded the captain thanked the troupe and called for his soldiers to begin their return march.
The young butterfly couldn't not put a name to what she felt that day. And it didn't go away. Duva confided her questions to Marissa the next time she saw her. Marissa called it love struck.
Love struck?
That couldn't be. They hadn't even had a chance to speak. Marissa insisted her heart, for whatever reason had gone pitter patter for the soldier and all her 'symptoms' pointed to being love struck.
That couldn't be. Bugkind had taken enormous steps forward since the Pale King came to guide them. But romantic relationships between species were frowned upon. Butterflies didn't fall in love with beetles. Besides, surely his life was all about rules, discipline, combat and duty to king and kingdom. If they had a chance to talk he probably would have found her life to be terribly dull by comparison.
So Duva did all she could to forget about him. However, themes of uncertain or unspoken love found themselves into her lyrics or the inspiration to a new dance.
How that lovely butterfly had manage to enchant him so Lucan would never be able to explain. Her movements were so graceful and hypnotic. How was she doing that? Growing up with authoritative voices giving gruff orders and battle cries, Lucan found himself utterly bespelled by a voice so much like bubbles floating over flowers. He never considered himself a poet either but common descriptors didn't do justice to what he saw, heard and felt and he found himself searching for words that would. After her performance Lucan was barley paying attention to the rest of the show. After the show the captain thanked the performers and troupe leader and ordered the squadron to move out. Lucan had no chance to talk to her. Not that he had any idea what he would even say.
Life went on but what that beautiful dancer stirred in him didn't settle and go away. Unable to share these feelings and questions that followed them with only his journals any longer Lucan confided in his clutchmates, Ynast and Olypha. Swearing them to secrecy he told them everything. Olypha called it twitterpaited or the flitter jitters, which were the first stages of falling in love. Ynast countered that it couldn't be. At first Lucan leaned more toward Ynast's diagnosis too. Beetles don't fall in love with butterflies. Besides, what would they even talk about? Any artist would be bored to tears with talks of drills and dreams of making general. What did he know about acting or music anyway? To the latter Olpha, though she put it less bluntly, agreed.
So Lucan tried to put the twitterpaited flutters aside as youthful silliness. He'd entertained the impossible long enough. But in quiet moments the memory of her grace and beauty returned. Lucan even incorporated the movements he remembered into how he fought during combat training. Doing so helped him learn to be more agile and found himself having a much easier time out-maneuvering opponents.
So much more could be added, but expediency was promised and this summary has already gone long.
Although, perhaps this condensed style of storytelling can remain a while longer. While origins are important, you were promised a story about Calidae. We will meet her faster this way.
Let us carry on.