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Herrah spent the last day of her life with her daughter.

It was the only thing that made sense. Hornet would have to spend the rest of her life without her mother to support her, so Herrah wanted to depart with fond memories for Hornet to keep. Herrah at least hoped she would remember them. Hornet was five years old, and Herrah thought that was plenty old enough to have active memories.

She opted to take Hornet to do everything she wanted for the day--an adventure of sorts. Hornet, being the energetic child she was, had plenty of ideas in mind: an amusement park near the City of Tears (that would be soon closing down due to being understaffed because of the Infection), ice cream in the City afterward, then off to her favorite park in Greenpath.

By the time they had reached the park, Herrah was exhausted, but she figured that was probably for the best. She would be sleeping forever soon, after all, and though she would be sedated, she was certain being tired would help.

But she didn't want to sleep. Not yet. She didn't want to sleep at all, really, but she knew it was necessary. Or at least that it was supposed to be necessary. Regardless, she had no real choice in the matter, and she wanted to be fully conscious to enjoy her last day with her daughter.

Hornet sat on one of the swings, staring at the ground meditatively.

Herrah waved in front of her and signed, "What's wrong?"

With her clumsy, childlike hands, Hornet replied, "Do you still love me?"

If Herrah had been a weaker woman, she would have broken down at that moment. Instead, she crouched on the ground in front of Hornet. "Of course I love you, Little Spiderling. Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're leaving. I'll be all alone now." She hung her head.

"You won't be alone," Herrah reassured her. "You'll have Midwife. Vespa. The Queen, even."

"And Daddy," she added, though her signing was rather small, a visible whisper.

"And Daddy," Herrah replied, wishing she could sign about him a little less snippily. She still hated him. Her disdain for the King would stick with her until her dying breath and likely haunt her tomb-bed once she had expired. But Hornet didn't need to know that.

"Does Daddy love me?" Hornet asked, looking up.

When Hornet had hatched, Herrah promised herself that she would never lie to Hornet. Her parents had lied to her, and the damage it left behind created a scarred shell of a woman. She was already going to abandon Hornet. She didn't want to make her pain worse.

"I don't know," Herrah replied. "I'm not sure if he's capable of such things. But I do know Midwife loves you very much. And Vespa. Vespa gave you your name--"

"I know," Hornet interrupted. "She only tells me every day."

Herrah worried she had upset her daughter, but after seeing her giggling, she realized she had not. She was thinking of Vespa's repetitive reminders fondly, thankfully.

"Even when I'm asleep," Herrah continued, "I won't really be gone."

Hornet tilted her head.

Herrah put a hand to Hornet's heart and said, "I'll always be here. Even if you can't see me, I'll be watching over you no matter what, and I'll always love you." Herrah was glad her mask hid her tears. She wasn't lying to Hornet; if Monomon was correct, her blood-bond with Hornet would be enough for her to follow everything Hornet did. Enough to keep her safe.

Hornet threw her arms around her neck and sobbed, and the heaves of her body likely hid Herrah's own, so she cried with her.

---

It wasn't the way Herrah wanted the day to end, but the King had arranged for all the Dreamers to meet that evening in a pseudo-religious ceremony at the Palace.

While Midwife got Hornet cleaned and dressed up for the occasion, Herrah prepared herself with a few glasses of whiskey.

It was probably not the most professional of all her decisions, but she was about to die.

Well, to be put in stasis in an eternal dream.

So basically death, as far as Herrah was concerned.

And she would face her death sentence drunk.

Three glasses was enough. She was sure she was staggering a little, but with the pitied glances from her Devouts, it seemed that it was understandable. Luckily, Hornet's various foster-mothers would be there to look after her, so Herrah could stand there and sway irresponsibly while she was given her Dreamer Cloak and the drugs that would kill her.

She didn't think her execution needed to be such a public thing, but the King would insist it wasn't an execution.

"A ceremonial sacrifice," he had said to her.

Herrah didn't care what fancy words he put on it. As she walked through the White Palace, she felt like a Death Row inmate, a criminal so detestable she would be given the ultimate punishment.

She was alone, for now. Midwife had taken Hornet to be in the Guest of Honor seats, and to do so, they had parted ways at the entrance to the palace.

Herrah saw a Royal Retainer carrying a glass of something seemingly alcoholic, so she snatched it from him and downed it before handing it back and staggering off. She saw him protest, but she ignored him. He wasn't being sentenced to death today. He could keep all his comments to his damn self.

The King was utilizing his auditorium for the ceremony, and anyone worthy of the King would be attending in the audience. Herrah hadn't realized how big the auditorium was until she staggered onto the stage.

The auditorium's seats were tiered and arced around the stage, likely able to fit thousands of bugs. They were nearly full. Herrah didn't recognize most of the attendants, but she did see Hornet and Midwife in their assigned seats, Vespa's representatives off to the side, and the Mantis Lords lurking in the background, whispering among themselves. She had requested Vespa to have her representatives there, knowing Vespa herself couldn't leave the Hive. Though she and Vespa had broken off their tryst when Herrah had been selected to be a Dreamer, they still held a love and understanding for each other.

She would be a perfect mother for Hornet.

She wasn't sure why the mantises were there, however. Their people held a rivalry that went back centuries, and the mantises weren't affiliated with the Kingdom of Hallownest, either. Perhaps they simply watched out of smug victory, happy the Beast Queen would be finally put down. Herrah would've been angry if she wasn't so drunk.

She watched the White Lady enter late, glowing and ethereal as always. The crowd turned to look at her as she moved slowly to her Guest of Honor seat--politely situated toward the back so as to not block the view. Herrah was certain the White Lady gave her a little wave, but Herrah wasn't entirely sure if she was so intoxicated that she imagined the whole thing, or if it was simply just wishful thinking.

On the stage with her was Lurien, looking rather fidgety, and Monomon between them, though she didn't seem entirely present. She was probably mentally calculating some abstract problem no one had seen, though Herrah thought most sane people should probably see a problem right in front of them. Perhaps if they waited for Monomon's solution, the situation wouldn't be what it was now.

But Monomon was an archivist, not the King's advisor, and even if she was, he wouldn't listen to her. Herrah figured people could afford to listen to Monomon more in general. She quite liked her presence.

She did not, however, like Lurien, mostly because he was a bootlicker, but also because he started acting very strange after she became gravid with Hornet. She knew Lurien assumed she had sex with the King directly and not what had occurred instead. Lurien was so blinded by his infatuation with the King that he couldn't see the truth in front of him.

For a watcher, he was rather unobservant.

But she'd have to figure out how to tolerate him. The three of them would be living together for eternity now.

The King approached the stage and stood on a podium that likely served to make him look less like a manlet but failed miserably to do so. He made some speech, but she didn't know what was said. The King hadn't bothered getting interpreters, though Herrah didn't know why. He knew Hornet was deaf, and that there were likely many more people in the audience who were, too. But even if there wasn't, she figured Hornet at least deserved to know what was happening. Herrah could live without the masturbatory drivel, but Hornet should at least have the right to know what her father was saying, even if she could only grasp bits and pieces.

Some Royal Retainers handed them their Dreamer Cloaks, which were allegedly woven with some sort of protective sigils. Herrah doubted it. Her Weavers could do far better and then some. She took the cloak with her shaking hands nonetheless.

It was then she saw Lurien signing, "Herrah, are you drunk?"

She wasn't sure what she did to tip him off. Maybe she stumbled a bit too much when she received her cloak. Maybe she didn't grab it carefully enough. Either way, she gave him a gesture that suggested just where he could shove the cloak. Perhaps he could pretend it was the King.

The Royal Retainers then gave them what appeared to be bags of tea leaves--the sedatives that would keep them in stasis forever. Lurien looked around, as though someone would present him with hot water to steep the tea in right there on the stage. Monomon, however, tucked the bag in her cloak.

Herrah copied Monomon, knowing the King trusted them to sedate themselves in the safety of the locations they chose to keep their bodies. After all, Herrah and Monomon were both too large to transport while unconscious. They couldn't pass out then and there on the stage.

At least it wasn't a live execution. Herrah didn't want Hornet to see what would happen to her.

The King's speech went on a little longer, then there was clapping throughout the audience. She saw Hornet stand atop Midwife and wave her applause. Herrah wished it made her happy.

The King had arranged for an afterparty in the ballroom, which Herrah found to be a little macabre. The King's Court and all other guests were celebrating the deaths of three people, and not in a funereal way. There were desserts, drinks, and dancing, and everyone seemed rather chipper about the whole thing.

Herrah wandered to a quiet corner with a glass of wine. She wasn't one for crowds. Perhaps it was simply in her nature. Her people were a reclusive, introverted sort, and though Herrah could be social, she hardly liked the presences of people, especially not people who were celebrating her untimely demise.

She did watch the crowd, however, over the rim of her wineglass. Some couples and a few families had made it to the dance floor while the King's orchestra played. She saw Monomon's apprentice, Quirrel, attempting to dance with Hornet, who interpreted the gesture as an invitation to spar and was repeatedly hitting him with her training nail. Herrah chuckled to herself. Hornet never seemed to like Quirrel much, not even when he babysat her when she was younger. She wondered how they'd fare without their betters around to split up their fights.

She saw Monomon glide over, majestic as a goddess, her expressionless mask staring at Herrah. Herrah managed a wave.

Monomon held up one of her glass writing tablets inscribed, May I join you?

Herrah nodded, and with a wave of one of Monomon's tentacles, the writing on the tablet disappeared. Monomon floated beside Herrah, and together, they watched the crowd. Hornet had finally stopped hitting Quirrel and was dancing with him. He seemed to be teaching her how to dance, and every time he twirled her, she giggled.

They're like siblings, Monomon wrote on her tablet.

Herrah was familiar with Monomon's tablets. They were made of glass and filled with acid; due to whatever enchantments Monomon put on them, pressure of the pen on the surface could create words by manipulating the encapsulated fluids. She had invented them long before they had ever met as an easy way to take notes in an environment unfriendly to traditional archival materials. After all, the acid required to maintain the health of Monomon's membranes was highly destructive and could easily dissolve paper.

When they first became friends, Monomon began bringing a tablet to communicate easily with Herrah; though Herrah primarily signed and could speech read most species, Monomon lacked both hands and a readable mouth. This tablet was different from her archival ones, however, as the words on the tablets could be wiped away with a simple swipe of the hand over the glass. Monomon had reportedly made it specifically for Herrah, and Herrah was forever flattered by the gesture.

Herrah used a claw to reply, And much like siblings, they're constantly trying to kill each other.

This got a laugh from Monomon. Then she wrote, Is that wine?

Herrah nodded. And what about it?

How much have you had to drink?

Herrah didn't remember. Yes.

Monomon giggled but pried the wineglass out of Herrah's hand. I think you've had enough.

As Herrah felt herself make an irritated sound of protest, Monomon flagged down a Retainer, who departed, then returned quickly with a glass of water and a palm-sized beetle.

Eat and drink, Monomon demanded.

If Monomon had been anyone else, Herrah would have argued. She was quite good at arguing, and being Queen of Deepnest, no one dared to go against her wishes. But she could see the glowing concern behind the eyes of Monomon's mask and knew the food and the water was a kind gesture from a concerned friend.

She inhaled both, not realizing how hungry and thirsty she truly was. The room stopped spinning, and her head became a little clearer. She noticed that Midwife was keeping an eye on Hornet, who was dragging Quirrel by the hand to another place in the ballroom, likely toward snacks. She also noticed Vespa's representatives had left, which was understandable. If her presence wasn't necessary, Herrah wished she had left, too.

Once she was satisfied with Herrah's growing sobriety, Monomon continued, I'm afraid I came over here because I have an ulterior motive.

What's your motive? Herrah was only mildly concerned. Monomon was a rather gentle creature, as far as she knew. It was unlikely her motive was dangerous or anything to worry about.

I want to show you something, if you don't mind tagging along with me to the Archives.

This was unusual. Herrah had only been to the Archives to drop Hornet off for private lessons or babysitting. Never had she been invited to go alone.

What would you like to show me?

There was a pause. I can't say. Not here. I don't want anyone to know about it.

Why not?

There was another lengthy pause. Do you trust me?

Herrah considered this briefly. Monomon had never been untrustworthy. She was kind, patient, and always honest to her and to Hornet. The more Herrah thought about it, the more she thought Monomon was objectively the worst choice for a Dreamer. Hallownest would be deprived of its sweetest citizen forever.

I trust you, Herrah wrote.

Then follow me.

Herrah nodded and set aside her non-empty glass of water. As they departed, Monomon paused to talk with her apprentice. After a brief conversation, Monomon continued out of the ballroom, and Herrah trailed behind her, sparing a quick glance back to see if Hornet was okay.

Hornet was occupied showing Quirrel a new nail technique she learned. She hadn't noticed Herrah's departure. Herrah breathed a sigh of relief, then continued behind Monomon, wondering what the Teacher was hiding.