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Nestled in deep in warm vibrations, the Signal.

Always there is the Signal. She Who Rules emits the signal, to fight, to forage, to multiply. To die.

Now, *be still*, She says, *stray not from the cavern*. We stray not from the cavern as the sacred smoke unfurls throughout. The vibration now is muted, sleepy as we are blessed by smoke, the Elder One has come for its tithing, and we stray not from the cavern.

Forsaken are those who stray, we ponder quietly in the smokey darkness, the holy shadows of the cavern of She Who Rules, and we her people, her last remaining people.

Light floods our temple chambers, the vastness of the Elder form as it takes what's owed, glistening yellow in the light of the sky, and then... darkness. We dream, we are dreamers. The caverns thrum, expectant waiters, waiting for the Signal from below.

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Submitted by Different_Captain717 on Fri, Mar 03, 2023 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

In exchange for a bountiful harvest, the hive is safe. The elder one, smoke bringer and invulnerable goliath, makes it so. A strange and unknowable being, it brings with it arcane artifacts and demands we sacrifice our honey, and in return it grants protection to the swarm