The frozen wasteland seemed to go on forever, nothing but grey and white as far as the eye could see. This monotonous scene is broken only by specks of black slowly marching, slow heavy steps weighed down by all they have been through. They follow one another drearily, wind howling through their perforated legs and snow pelting their faces. Queen Chrysalis walks at the front of this miserable pack of insectoids, leading her cold, starving kin through this barren landscape, not willing to admit to even herself that she has not the faintest clue where she's going. She squinted through the dense fog, protecting her eyes from the high velocity snow, sure that she could figure out the way. So focused she is on the horizon that she could not see what she truly needed to watch.

The queen stumbled forward, her leg caught on something peeking up from under the snow. She glared at the perpetrator, looking down at her legs to see a deep red spike sticking out from the pristine white snow, unearthed by hooking itself onto the bugmare's hole-filled leg. Chrysalis glared at the offending object, and in that instant, strange, intelligible whispers began to flow into her mind, beckoning her toward the blood-colored ivory. Entranced, he slowly shifted herself toward the whispering's source, one whispering voice becoming two, then three, then four. She lifted the dark entity closer to her face, her wide-eyed curiosity shifting to a wicked grin.