Granin stirred as the wave washed over him.

“W-was that?” Corun asked breathlessly.

“It was,” the triad leader stated.

Torrina sucked in a breath, letting the shock register on her face instead of her usual stoic expression.

“This is a lot sooner than we expected,” she said after calming herself. “Are you sure?”

Her teacher shot her a slightly annoyed look and she looked down. Granin snorted.

“You’re too smart to ask a question like that,” he scolded her, “we just got punched in the face by a wall of mana. Of course I’m sure.”

“I know. I suppose I just didn’t want it to happen now. I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Nobody is ready for what’s coming. They might have spent three thousand years preparing themselves, but they still aren’t ready.”

At least we won’t be the ones to pit ourselves against the overwhelming strength of the Ancients. I’m happy to leave that to those with far more hubris than I.

Corun warred with the sense of excitement and trepidation. World shaking events would take place, and soon. A wave the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since the Time of Rending was building. It was possible the events of the past would repeat themselves, with the Ancients causing devastation on a global scale. Naturally, he was nervous.

“How long do you think?” he asked Granin and the old Shaper scrunched up his face. “Your best guess.”

“As far as we know, Yarrum is yet to wake, so it stands to reason that there are others still sleeping. That being the case, the mana level isn’t high enough, but it’s getting close. If I were to guess, I’d say that those who aren’t awake are stirring at the least, and those who are already risen are moving around, reaching out. This wave isn’t going to be big enough, but the next one?”

He shrugged.

“Who knows? The wave after this, or the one after that? Less than a year is my guess. If we don’t have a solution by that time, then they’ll take matters into their own hands.”

They all knew what it meant when the Ancients took matters into their own hands. Cataclysm, catastrophe, extinction.

“I hope Anthony makes it in time,” Torrina said, and Granin chuckled.

“Not eager to meet the Worm in person?” he said, and she thought for a moment before she shook her head.

Coming face to face with one’s god might be a happy occasion for some religions, but amongst the cults, it meant coming well within eating range of an all-powerful monster. Granin imagined it may be a very moving experience, to see Yarrum with his own eyes. A creature of legend and unfathomable might, capable of smashing all the golgari had built to nothing if he so chose.

I’d be awed, he thought, not for long, but I’d be awed.

The Worm was perhaps the second most ravenous of the Ancients. There would be little point keeping Granin alive, so he’d be food.

It might still be worth it.

“We can only hope so,” he said, returning his mind to the current conversation. “Our only chance of staving off disaster is to present a new Ancient. That was the task laid on the founders of the cults, and we are running out of time to deliver. If we can meet their expectations, there’s at least a chance they don’t destroy the world.”

“He’s still only tier seven,” Corun fretted, and Torrina raised a brow.

‘Only’ tier seven? Anthony was perhaps the first tier seven ant in the history of Pangera, and a mythic monster at that. Considering where he’d started, it was a remarkable journey. In fact, recalling he hadn’t even been born amongst his Colony, but in the tunnels by himself, it was beyond a miracle he’d survived to this point. She understood what he was saying, though. Compared to what he needed to be, there was still a long way to go.

“You may not need to worry too much on that front,” Granin said. “This wave is going to be like nothing we’ve ever seen before, and the next will be even worse. If you want to train a monster, you couldn’t ask for better conditions than this.”

He pointed down below. From their vantage point high in the fortress nest below Roklu, the three had a huge range of view over the plains below. Torrina and Corun leaned forward to see what he was pointing at.

Chaos. Utter, total, chaos. The Plains of Leng had exploded in activity, lava flooding across the landscape as demons rampaged endlessly. As they watched, it didn’t die down, it only grew worse, and worse, and worse. Larger demons began to climb up through the belching streams of lava, fighting and tearing at each other the moment they met.

The air, a constant swirl of ash and smoke, thickened, to the point where the golgari felt their lungs burn when they breathed. Not from the smoke, but from the faint tinge of pure destruction in the air, now strong enough to begin to unmake their bodies from the inside.

“We may need to create filters in order to breathe,” Granin harrumphed.

Corun slapped his forehead.

“Actually, the Colony already made some. I forgot to bring them.”

“You’ll be the death of me one day, Corun.”

“Sorry!”

Torrina stared down, aghast. She’d heard that the third stratum was terrible during a wave, but this?

“It can’t be this bad every time….” she said.

Her teacher shook his head.

“It isn’t. And it’s going to get worse. Things are just getting started.”

The ants would be fighting on so many fronts against this wave that she wondered if even they could succeed. Despite all the preparation and thought they’d put in, could a young race, not even two years old, really fight back against odds like this?

With an Ancient on their side… they could. If they had one of them, they could do anything at all.