Chapter Text
Oh! Woe! Young Luma was done for!
This mossy cavern would be her dying place! From egg, to cocoon, to butterfly, and now — to her early, untimely death in a patch of pretty sunlight! Surely, it would be swift. Certainly, she deserved it! A dignified exit. She shielded her delicate face and waited to die. The flying swarm of bugs stabbed and hissed at her with their barbed bodies from every angle, such that she could not feel or hear anything else in her final moments.
How cruel and unfortunate! What had begun as a simple trip to gather cave-flowers would now be her final undoing. Oh! Goodbye, world.
A great slashing noise cut through the cavern.
Poor Luma. Dead! Gone. Her short life was over.
She trembled and cried.
The cavern fell silent. Very slowly, Luma opened her eyes and found that she was indeed alive. Oh! How very nice. How very lucky.
The fluffy bugs were dead all around her and she was unharmed — but not alone! In the shadows, there was a tall, lady saviour-bug hunched over in pain. She was cloaked in a poisonously bright red fabric, and her black, oblong-shaped eyes were squinted keenly against the light. She looked sharp and lethal, like an ivory blade.
Luma thought this alien creature was quite fine.
She was more marvelous than any cave-flower Luma could have found. What was her saviour's name? What foreign land had she come from? Did she want a kiss? It was a thrilling, romantic moment just pulsing with anticipation— But oh!
The saviour-bug suddenly lurched and fell over on the ground.
Luma watched her fall and was suddenly alone in the cavern again.
"Oh, dear," she said to herself in the silent aftermath. "I suppose I should do something."
Luma Liftwing lived a simple life in Mossy Chapel.
The caverns beyond were mostly peaceful and her only visitors were pilgrims. Since the thread-sickness began, they had been turning up less often and in poorer condition. Depressing! It greatly saddened the chapel-bug, but life went on. As did duty. Luma offered refuge to all needy travellers, and whatever ailment she couldn't heal with medicine, she healed with companionship and prayer.
It was only very rarely that she went out to gather supplies. Today had been one such rare day.
Perched atop the Chapel roof like an ugly little gargoyle, a tiny Aknid bug overlooked the caverns. It clicked its mandibles and blinked stupidly. It watched Luma as she came up the rocky path, trying and failing to recognise what type of bug it was she was lugging along behind her. It was tall and red. Foreign.
At last, when the Aknid felt it would be discovered, it quickly flew away.
“Dott! Oh, Dott!” Luma called out. “I am back! Open the door!”
Like magic, the large door to the chapel slowly opened. Luma’s little beetle companion, Dott, appeared from behind it with large white eyes of surprise.
“Pilgrim,” he said as Luma dragged the red-cloaked bug inside. “Hurt pilgrim.”
“Get her set up in a bed,” Luma instructed.
As she broke away to grab a bag of supplies, Dott pushed the door closed and took the tall saviour-bug over to one of the beds. With a grunt, he deposited her on the pillow. A long column of sunlight spotlit her pale face.
Luma returned with her bag. She held out her claw and demanded a glass vial. Dott produced one out of thin air for her. She took it.
"I need tick legs, dried placenta, witch root," she went on demanding, and the items went on appearing. "Life blood. Crushed granite."
She got to work as soon as possible. Expertly, she crushed the ingredients into the vial and shook them up like a chef would shake a salad bowl. In went moss, tar, pollen. There was a small explosion of purple dust, a slight of hand, a flourish, a strange liquid flying through the air! Smoke and mirrors!
Yes, Luma Liftwing was indeed a master of her craft.
The healing potion was soon complete. At last, Luma very gently administered the concoction unto the saviour-bug until the vial was empty.
Lowering themselves to the bug’s level, Luma and Dott stared at her sleeping face with their big, curious eyes.
"It is done," said Dott. “Done.”
Now all they had to do was wait.
Night had fallen on the chapel when Hornet finally awoke.
The huntress blinked her eyes open and took in her mysterious surroundings.
She had been laid to rest in a small bed under a tall and ominous ceiling. Moss and small fungi plants colonized the bone-like ribs that held the structure up, as if it was the carcass of a large and ancient creature.
Hornet stood. She saw two sleeping bugs snoring at her bedside and decided to bother them for answers.
"Good bugs," she commanded. The pair awoke at once with immediate urgency. She met them with her cool, steely gaze as they clung desperately to each other and gasped and pleaded for mercy and then realized they were not in any danger. "...Forgive me for waking you."
"Oh," said the frightened flutter-moth as she recovered from shock and embarrassment. "Tall-bug... you are awake.”
Her beetle companion trembled. "Tall, tall, tall-bug..."
"Be assured, I am no threat to you, small thing. I draw my weapon only when my survival sees it necessary," she explained. The shivering pill-bug, she did not recognise — but the fluffy antenna-bug at his side, she most certainly recognized. It was the unfortunate bug from the caverns. Hornet had saved her from a swarm of Aknids right before her untimely collapse. "Or alternatively, when other’s do."
"Ah, yes. Thanking you," Luma said shyly and happily. Her saviour! Tall. Cunning. Lethal... The reason Luma is alive and has lived to see another day with precious Dott. "It was you. You cut down those beastie bullies and saved poor Luma from certain death."
Hornet asked for no thanks. "I presume, in turn, it is you who is responsible for my good health?"
"Yes. You rescued a dame of a particular talent," Luma bragged. "I am chapel-keeper. Healer-bug. Mender. Magician! You stand in the great Mossy Chapel, old structure serving as refuge for pilgrims and friends alike. Home of Luma and loyal assistant, Dott. Say hello, Dott."
"Dott," the beetle said. "Dott, Dott."
"Well met, Healer Luma and assistant Dott." Hornet was humbled. "It is a pleasure to have crossed your paths. Though, I arrive to your lands not as a pilgrim... I am Hornet. Unfortunate circumstances have dictated my arrival."
"So too have they plagued these lands, Hornet," mourned Luma. "I'm afraid it is bad news: Tough times have befallen our dear and ancient Pharloom."
"Tough times," agreed Dott. "Threads. Danger. Death."
"Most kindly creatures have gone mad and turned into beastie bullies!" exclaimed Luma. "Those Aknids! They are certainly foe, but they were once friend. . ."
"Sad," said Dott. "Friends. Gone."
"But! We persist. We save. We help," Luma stood up and gave Hornet an anticipatory look. "You, Miss, are saved, but not yet helped. What troubles you?"
Hornet was earnest in her reply. "I was captured and brought here by strange bugs, wielding bell-staffs and clad in veils. I seek their master. Do you know of them?"
"Oh! Them. . ."
Luma and Dott looked at each other and were greatly displeased for a moment.
"Yes," scoffed Dott. "Them. Them. Pah!"
"We know of them. You speak of those pompous little city-dwellers! Slaves to the citadel up above," Luma answered. "It is a long and perilous trek to the city's gates. And even longer and more perilous in recent times. Yes! Oh, what tragic things poor Luma and Dott have seen."
"If this citadel is the place I seek, I intend to make this trek."
Luma's curly antennas perked up in alarm. "Oh! Too, is our duty to warn, Hornet! We tell you: Pharloom is deadly!”
"Bye, bug," agreed Dott. "You die. Dead, dead!"
"I am ready to face what comes," Hornet insisted. "I thank you for your service, Luma and Dott. With my strength rejuvenated and my shell ready for further battle, it seems I have fast outgrown your hospitality. I wish you luck, good bugs, and bid you a warm farewell."
What a stubborn bug!
"Chapel is nice," said Dott persuasively. "Chapel is safe."
But the tall-bug did not listen. Dott and Luma remained together in the column of moonlight as she turned away and went down the aisle. Goodbye, Hornet. Bold bug! You will surely die out there like the rest of them, but you were savage and marvellous while you were here.
"Pilgrim come; pilgrim go," Dott sang as the tall-bug departed. "Pilgrim live; pilgrim die."
The chapel door groaned shut and Hornet was gone.
Luma burst into a great and sudden agony. "Oh! Oh, Dott. My saviour has left us. We are alone once more."
"Dott good company. Dott friend."
Luma was not reassured. Saddened, she assessed her tiny beetle companion from head to toe and said to him, "Pretend you are in battle."
He flexed his thin arms.
Ugh. Pathetic!
"No! Oh, nothing will suffice," she decided glumly. "No bug shall ever compare to Miss Hornet. Not even you, sweet Dott."
Such is the painful and cyclical life of a chapel-bug. Pilgrims came and pilgrims went. They lived and they died. Her beloved chapel, at least, was permanent — and Dott, the loyal fellow, was at her side. All was well and good. Truly.
Oh! But, her saviour. She was gone.
Luma was in Bone Bottom delivering supplies.
The cave-dwelling settlement was as lifeless and charming as always — just a short stretch of moss and stone away from the chapel. There were good, simple fellows here. Dott got along with them just fine. Luma worried for them often, but they were happy folk.
"Greetings, Pebb," Luma said to the simple-faced shopkeeper in front of her. "I bring supplies: medicine and dry foods."
"Oh, thank you!" said Pebb, reaching out. "This will do nicely."
It had been a lifetime since Luma last saw her red saviour. Several, even! Dott claimed it had only been five days, on account of the sun's rising and falling five times since that night, but he was mistaken! It had been many lifetimes, indeed, and all of them spent in heartache.
She wondered about Hornet's whereabouts. Had she reached the citadel? Had she died trying? Was she all alone out there, in need of Luma's delightful and illuminating company? Would she return?
Ugh! It was no use in hoping. Luma bid Pebb goodbye and made her way back to the chapel empty-handed.
"I wonder, Dott," Luma said to her dear friend that night as they sat atop the chapel and looked out at the caverns together. "Do you not get lonely?"
“Luma good company. Luma friend,” he answered easily.
She went on. "Oh, but the pilgrims. Do they not sadden you?"
He stared stoically out and answered easily again. "Pilgrim come; pilgrim go…. Pilgrim live; pilgrim die."
Oh, such wisdom. How utterly pleasing and unbothersome life must be for a beetle so simple. To meet the vast scope of life's troubles with a blank, bug–eyed face of indifference…. To be so small and yet so confident… To be Dott.
"The chapel," she insisted, "Does it not get cold? Do you not shiver?"
While she looked down at Dott, Dott looked up at the cavern ceiling. The rocks twinkled with trapped dew droplets and the moonlight bathed everything in a pearlescent layer of harmony. What went on in his mind at a moment like this?
It was always difficult to tell whether Dott was an idiot or the greatest genius Luma had ever met. She stared into his simple, beady eyes and imagined a whole universe within them; one filled with extraordinary, otherworldly concepts and grand ideas she couldn't begin to fathom. Yes, it was possible he was a genius.
"Chapel..." Dott considered her question. He squinted his eyes in thought. Luma hung on for his answer. "Yes. . . Chapel cold."
Oh! How profound...
Or perhaps not.
Even now, she could not tell the difference.
“You always know just what to say. I wonder how you do it,” she eventually replied, and resigned herself to the view.