Chapter 14: The Buzzing Path

The hallway buzzed.

Not with light, nor power, nor even the subtle thrum of magic—but with insects. A low, vibrating hum filled the narrow corridor, as if the walls themselves were alive with a billion tiny wings. It wasn't quite loud enough to deafen, but it was constant, oppressive, and worst of all, rhythmic. Like a song only fruit flies could understand.

Stanley grimaced. "Great. First citrus ghosts, now fruit bugs."

Rafael sniffed the air and immediately regretted it. "It smells like a compost bin made love to a hair salon."

"Don't say 'made love,'" Calyx muttered, swatting away a glowing beetle with a trail of glittering dust. "That implies intention. This was just… rot gone wild."

The walls, once pulpy and damp, had hardened into a chitinous amber. Fossilized slices of dried fruit—lemon, lime, pomegranate—were embedded like murals in a shrine to expired freshness. Occasional gaps in the wall pulsed with pale yellow light, but it wasn't magical. It was the eyes of wasp-like creatures watching, unblinking.

Some of the insects moved with military precision, shifting in geometric patterns across the surfaces. Others just vibrated in place, wings beating fast enough to cause a visible distortion in the air.

"Do we fight them?" Rafael asked.

"No," Stanley said. "We ignore them. Walk with confidence. And no sudden moves."

"Confidence?" Rafael snorted. "Buddy, I've worn pineapple armor to a watermelon duel. I exude confidence."

"Did you win that duel?" Calyx asked.

"I did not."

They crept forward. The buzzing grew louder, then dropped into a dissonant drone as they reached a large, circular chamber. It resembled a hive—but it was carved from old rind and bone, its architecture both natural and utterly alien.

At the center stood a figure: tall, lean, armored in interlocking citrus plates. Wings flickered behind her. A crown of dried orange segments formed a halo around her head.

She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Welcome, travelers. I am Marrowbee, the Queen of Forgotten Nectar."

"Another one?" Stanley whispered.

"Shhh," Calyx hissed. "She has wings. That's always bad."

Marrowbee stepped forward, antennae twitching. "You carry the rot of revelation with you. I smell it. The Spoiled One has touched your minds."

"Touched is a strong word," Rafael said. "I'd go with emotionally inconvenienced."

Marrowbee spread her wings. The chamber responded—buzzing louder, higher, faster. It wasn't just noise. It was pressure. Thought. Intent. The very atmosphere thickened, full of anticipation and judgment.

"You must be tested," she said. "To move forward, you must offer the nectar of truth. One memory. Undiluted. Unforgiven."

Stanley paled. "You want… confession?"

"Don't worry," she cooed. "Only one of you has to do it. But choose wisely. A lie will anger the swarm."

A hundred tiny eyes blinked from the walls. A hiss passed through the hive.

Stanley turned to Rafael and Calyx. "I'll do it."

"No offense," Rafael said quickly, "but you just had your trauma monologue like two rooms ago. I vote Calyx."

"Excuse me?" Calyx barked. "Why me?"

"Because you're twitchy," he said. "And it's always the twitchy ones hiding juicy stuff."

Stanley sighed. "We're wasting time. I'll go."

He stepped forward. "When I was fifteen, I sabotaged my best friend's exam. I couldn't handle that he was better than me. I let him take the fall. He never recovered. Last I heard, he quit magic and opened a cursed smoothie bar."

Silence. Then:

Marrowbee's wings slowed. "This truth is sufficient."

The buzzing dimmed. A wall peeled away, revealing a path paved in rind and crystalized regret.

"You may pass."

They walked in silence for several minutes, the buzzing slowly fading behind them. The hallway ahead glowed with a softer light now, golden and strangely warm. Unlike the previous passageways, this one didn't feel hostile. It was... reflective. Too reflective.

Their shadows stretched unnaturally long against the glossy walls, each step echoing like a whispered admission.

Then Rafael said, "So what's cursed about the smoothies?"

Stanley looked away. "They only taste good if you're crying."

Calyx chuckled, though it was strained. "Damn. That's the most emo beverage I've ever heard of."

"It was called Bitter Blends," Stanley added. "Their signature drink was Melancholy Mango."

They all laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh—but it broke the tension.

The corridor opened up into a small antechamber. There, resting on a pedestal carved from dried grapefruit rind, was a map etched into wax paper. A glowing droplet hovered above it—buzzing faintly.

As they stepped closer, the droplet zipped upward and hovered eye-level. It vibrated with high-pitched tones, forming a coherent rhythm like a synthesized voice.

"Chosen. Tested. Permitted. Proceed."

Then it zipped away into the next passage.

Stanley took the map. "It shows a network... we're near something called 'The Zest Engine.'"

Calyx raised a brow. "What the hell is a zest engine?"

"Don't know," Rafael said, "but I bet it runs on pure citrus-based spite."

They pressed forward again. Behind them, Marrowbee watched in silence, wings folded. A single drop of nectar slid from her mandibles and fell to the hive floor, where tiny mites eagerly drank it up.

The Queen of Forgotten Nectar whispered to herself:

"They do not yet understand. Truth given freely bears a price unpaid."

The path ahead pulsed again, this time not with buzzing—but with a low mechanical thrumming. Something different awaited them.

***