CHAPTER 47: CHAPTER 47:GO BUZZ GO

Perfect.

Chapter 59 will open **inside Buzz’s mind and body** — where he’s half-conscious, trapped somewhere between life and the hive. It’ll be strange, intimate, emotional. You’ll feel his confusion, pain, and fragments of who he used to be trying to claw their way back.

As he wakes, he’ll realize he’s connected to something vast — every machine, every drone, every thread of gold in the forest. He’s not just alive. He’s *linked*.

And by the end of the Chapter, he’ll hear Zza calling for him — which snaps the hive’s attention toward her.

Let’s begin.

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**Chapter 59: The Golden Silence**

He floated in the dark for what could’ve been minutes or centuries.

There was no ground, no sky, no body — only weightless heat pressing against what used to be his skin. His thoughts didn’t feel like thoughts anymore. They drifted like mist, scattering whenever he tried to catch them.

Then, through the haze, came the hum.

Low. Endless. Familiar.

The hive.

He tried to move, and the darkness rippled. Golden threads bloomed around him, stretching outward like veins. Each one pulsed with rhythm, each one alive. He could feel them breathing, could *hear* them think — thousands of tiny minds flickering in and out of his head.

He gasped, or thought he did. "Zza..."

The name echoed through the dark, bending, multiplying, until it wasn’t his anymore. Every voice around him whispered it back, soft and wrong.

*Zza...Zza...Zza...*

Buzz tried to pull away, but the threads tightened. The gold crawled up his arms, over his chest, into his throat. He felt his claws again — or something that remembered how claws were supposed to feel.

Memory came next.

The tower.

The Queen’s voice.

The light swallowing him whole.

Then pain.

He screamed, and the hive screamed with him. The gold around him pulsed so hard it cracked the dark open. For a moment, he saw himself reflected in the shimmer — not shell, not flesh, but something between. A body made of scar tissue and light, still shaped like him but flickering at the edges, as if reality couldn’t decide whether to keep him.

A voice drifted through the glow. *You woke yourself too soon.*

He froze. "You again."

*You carry me whether you want to or not. I made you to outlive me.*

He clenched his fists. "You died."

*No, Buzz. You *inherited* me.*

The words sank like poison. His heartbeat — if it was even his — merged with the hive’s rhythm. He could feel every drone moving miles away, every machine pulse under the forest floor. He could hear the coalition breathing above him. He could feel Zza’s silk trembling near the crater.

Her voice came through faintly, muffled but real. "Buzz... if you can hear me..."

He froze.

For one impossible second, her words cut through the static. The gold inside him reacted instantly — surging toward the sound, clawing through the dark. The hive pushed back.

*She’s a threat.*

He shouted into the silence, "She’s not!"

The threads around him rippled. The hive didn’t understand defiance; it only understood command. The more he fought, the tighter it pulled, until the golden threads began to split and spark.

Pain rushed through him. His vision turned white. Somewhere deep inside the hive’s song, a new rhythm began — not perfect, not in sync. His.

He forced the words out. "You don’t get to control me."

The hum stuttered.

He pushed harder, drawing on every scrap of who he had been before — every fight, every scar, every stupid joke Zza had rolled her eyes at. The memories didn’t fade; they *fought back*.

The light flickered, shifting color — from gold to a softer hue, warm and uneven.

The hive recoiled. *You’re breaking pattern.*

"Good."

The light burst outward again, a pulse strong enough to rattle the surface. For a moment, he saw flashes — the crater, the coalition, Zza’s face turned toward the ground where he lay.

He reached toward her through the glow. "Zza... I’m still here."

The connection snapped back, and he fell deeper into the light.

Above him, the ground cracked.

Zza stumbled back as a golden shimmer rippled through the crater’s surface. The Scarabs stopped moving. The Elder’s silk twisted tight.

The pulse came again, slow but certain.

Zza whispered, "He’s fighting it."

The Elder shook its head. "He’s not fighting. He’s *splitting*."

The ground glowed brighter.

Below, Buzz’s eyes opened — twin streaks of molten gold. The Queen’s voice and his own spoke together, but only one word came through clear.

"Zza."

Then the light vanished.

The forest fell silent again.

Only this time, it was breathing with him.

**End of Chapter 59**

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Next Chapter (60) will decide whether Zza and the coalition **try to dig him out**, or whether **Buzz awakens fully first — emerging half himself, half hive**.

Which version do you want next?

The wind changed by dusk. It carried more than air—something faint, metallic, a whisper that crawled between leaves. Buzz felt it before he heard it. The same hum that haunted the pit now echoed through the forest again, quieter but closer, like breath on the back of his neck.

Zza noticed too. Her antennae twitched. "The gold’s moving again."

Buzz didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The glow beneath the soil flickered every few steps, tracing faint trails through roots and moss. The infection wasn’t gone. It was following.

When they reached the valley, the coalition waited. Scarabs lined the ridge, their armor patched with silk. Glowbeetles hovered above, casting uneven light over the camp. The Elder stood near the stream, surrounded by new weavers repairing the net. Every strand stretched toward the horizon, anchored to trees that still dripped sap from old wounds.

The moment Buzz stepped into view, silence rolled through the clearing. Every head turned.

The Elder’s eyes narrowed. "You went alone."

Buzz stopped at the edge of the stream. "You would’ve stopped me."

"You almost broke the ridge," the Elder said. "The tremor reached us before your scent did."

Zza crossed her arms. "We stopped something worse. The Scarabs were building a shrine. It wasn’t worship—it was bait."

The Elder’s gaze softened, but only slightly. "And the infection?"

"Still there," Buzz said. "Smarter now. Quieter."

A murmur ran through the coalition. One Glowbeetle dipped lower, its light flickering with fear. "It can move through the soil now," it whispered.

Buzz looked around at the faces in the crowd. They were tired, but not broken. They had seen too much to be afraid of ghosts. Still, he felt the tension rising. Fear spread faster than rot.

He raised his voice. "Listen. It’s not about killing it anymore. We can’t. It’s a network—it learns, it adapts, it hides. Every time we burn it, it remembers the flame. Every time we cut it, it learns to bleed better. So we don’t kill it. We teach the forest to fight it."

The Elder tilted its head. "You think the forest still listens to us?"

"It listens to pain," Buzz said. "It’s full of it."

Zza stepped forward, silk trailing behind her like a banner. "We build the net wider. We connect every root that still breathes. If the infection wants to spread through the ground, then it’ll have to spread through us too. And we’ll be waiting."

The Elder nodded once, slow. "A living trap."

Buzz met its gaze. "A memory it can’t rewrite."

The coalition started to move again. Glowbeetles took to the air, their lights forming steady lines. Centipedes burrowed into the soil, dragging threads beneath the surface. Scarabs carried roots, stacking them in circles that resembled old nests. The forest itself began to hum in rhythm with their work.

Zza watched it all, her eyes following the weaving. "It feels different this time."

Buzz nodded. "It should. Last time we fought to survive. Now we fight to remember."

They worked through the night. By dawn, the first shimmer stretched across half the valley, a living net of silk and soil pulsing with faint light. It wasn’t blue like the Weaver’s—nor gold like the Queen’s. It was something new. Something in between.

Buzz stood at the center of it, claws sunk into the dirt. He could feel it breathing beneath him. The gold in his veins pulsed slower, quieter, almost calm.

Zza approached, her silk damp with dew. "You look like you belong to it."

"Maybe I do," he said. "Maybe that’s the point."

Before she could answer, a sharp tremor shook the ground. The net flickered once, threads stretching taut.

The Elder turned sharply. "What was that?"

A Centipede burst from the soil, gasping. "Something moved under us. Fast. Too fast."

Buzz crouched low, pressing a claw to the earth. He felt it instantly—a vibration, smooth and rhythmic. The hum returned, no longer distant.

"It’s not attacking," he said quietly. "It’s listening."

The forest stilled. The hum grew louder, spreading through the roots, echoing between trees. Then, one by one, the lights of the Glowbeetles began to dim—not from fear, but from response. Their bodies shimmered faint gold, pulsing to the same beat.

Zza’s voice cracked. "It’s syncing with them."

Buzz clenched his claws. "Break the rhythm. Now!"

The Elder shot silk threads into the canopy, snapping them like cords. The Centipedes slammed their coils against the ground, breaking the pulse. The forest screamed in answer—a deep, aching groan.

The hum faltered. The Glowbeetles’ lights steadied. Then silence.

Buzz straightened slowly, chest heaving. "It’s probing the net. Testing for weak spots."

Zza wiped sweat from her brow. "And?"

He looked at the ground, at the faint glimmer still tracing under the roots. "It found one."

The Elder followed his gaze toward the far ridge. "Then we close it."

Buzz nodded. "No. We bait it."

Zza turned on him. "You just barely pulled yourself back from it. You want to face it again?"

He met her eyes. "I want it to come to me."

The Elder’s voice dropped low. "You think it’ll listen?"

"It always has."

Zza’s claws trembled. "And if it doesn’t stop this time?"

Buzz smiled, small and tired. "Then maybe it’ll finally see what it made."

They stood there as dawn burned across the valley. The forest was quiet again, but not peaceful. Every creature, every thread, every root felt the same truth crawling beneath them.

The Queen was gone.

But her echo had learned how to walk.

And it was already on its way home.