The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Yathi wiggled and squirmed, whimpering as, within the safe little alcove they’d taken shelter in to hide from the Thriae, her strange, unpredictable fellow knight shoved both hands under her tight pants and planted kisses all over her neck like she was marking property.

“I-Ia,” she gasped, licking her lips, pressing both hands against the smooth shimmering resin wall, “w-what—what are—”

“Pretty girl,” the smaller woman purred in her ear, ”shut up~”

Ia’s fingers strummed over Yathi’s clit, slick with her juices, and Yathi’s voice broke into a high pitched moan, and she desperately covered her mouth with her hand. Her whole body trembled and rocked.

“Let me use you,” Ia cooed. “My fingers are bored, Yathi, and you’re making the cutest little noises right now for them.“

This wasn’t like Ia. Yathi tried to remind herself of that as her knees fought against the need to buckle. This was off. Something was wrong.

She tried to think about what that might mean, but all of her thoughts seemed to be turning into a puddle between her legs at the moment.

She gasped and whimpered into her hand, lashes fluttering. Her knees started to give way.

“Thaaat’s it, pretty girl,” Ia cooed, her fingers speeding up, pistoning in and out of Yathi, making Yathi’s gasps quicken, deepen— “See how good I make you feel? Isn’t that sooo cool?“

Yathi knew what Ia was doing. Yathi was being softened. Toyed with for later use. She always hated when people tried that on her, especially other knights, but... fffuck, it was like Ia knew every last button to push…

Her knees were crumpling, and as she heard Ia purring with insufferable delight, it only made giving in that much hotter, that much more irresistible.

But she knew she had to fight this, had to… this wasn’t even…

Her thick, dark lashes fluttered over her large golden eyes. This wasn’t mind control. It was just sex. It was just sex that just happened to feel really, really good. She could fight that, right?

So she braced her legs, forcing herself to stay upright, and reached back behind herself to push Ia away. “I-Ia,” she managed, “we are in the middle of—“

From behind, Ia grabbed her wrist.

She nipped Yathi’s earlobe. Gentle, delicate, teasing—but scolding, too.

Yathi squeaked. She squirmed, eyes widening, struggling against Ia’s grip only to realize that… that Ia…

… was a lot stronger than her.

And Ia’s other hand was stepping up its attentions.

“I-Ia!” she squealed, her voice rising now, her cheeks burning to think that the others might hear—not even considering the dangers of a Thriae patrol coming by, not even the potential peril of a Thriae patrol catching them, only the humiliations of her fellow knights thinking she was—was some sort of—

“Girls!” Trys’s voice broke through the haze of lust like the sweetest, most unwelcome musical note in the world. “Brist! Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine~” Ia called sweetly, covering Yathi’s mouth with a hand still slick with Yathi’s torturously honey-tainted juices. “Yathi’s with me!”

Yatho’s heart fluttered with treacherous urges as she breathed in helplessly of her own sweet, addictive musk. Her senses of smell and taste were dampened by Mew’s magic right now, but gods, she longed for them not to be, longed to taste honey, any honey. Don’t lick. Do not lick. Do not…

“Mew’s here. W-We need to, um, move on before someone comes back!” Trys sounded oddly dazed to Yathi, and she wondered, a little too hopefully, if Trys was having similar kinds of troubles with that feisty catgirl. “Brist, are you—”

“I-I’m coming!” Brist called, sounding flustered.

And a little too loud. His voice echoed down the hall, and Yathi swore she heard, with her enhanced hearing, the sounds of the bathing chamber go quiet.

Time to go, she thought as she heard racing footsteps outside. To her intense relief, Ia evidentally thought the same, because those hands were suddenly out of Yathi’s pants, re-doing the buckles with an ease that spoke of experience. Ia grabbed Yathi’s hand and yanked her out of the alcove.

They took off racing down the hall after the departing footsteps. It seemed the others had already run ahead while Yathi and Ia had been recovering, and there was no time to waste.

Or, Yathi thought, cheeks burning, to clean off the honeyed juices still dribbling down her cheeks.

“So, which way are we going, anyways?” Mew chirped, skipping alongside Trys to keep up with the taller woman’s urgent stride.

“Look for stairs.” Trys was still a bit out of breath as they hurried down the left passage. “Thriae hives are very, um, very vertical.” The statuesque blonde warrior blushed as Mew pulled ahead of her, tail flicking enticingly over that cute bouncy butt. “The queen’s chambers will be lower down.”

“The queen, huh?” Mew glanced back with a curious smile. “You really think we can take her on, huh?”

“That is… well, not exactly the plan.” Trys bit her lip. “It is complicated. Mew, turn right here.”

The walls around them glimmered as if molded from molten amber. Trys had no idea where the Thriae even got the light to glow like that, considering they but she was glad of the light. Even if she knew better than to look too long, or breathe in too much of it.

Mew’s sensory protection was beginning to lapse in the catgirl’s excitement, she noticed, sniffing and smelling the sweet scent of honey all around her. That was fine. They were moving away from the bathing vats, and ex-addict or no, Trys had a strong enough will to manage. Hopefully.

She was less sure about Yathi. She glanced back, frowning. The footsteps behind them seemed to be growing quieter. “Mew, I think we had better—”

“Hey, look! Stairs!” The catgirl’s voice was almost a squeal of excitement as she leaped onto the first step of a tall spiral staircase circling downwards. “See? Who says catgirls have a bad sense of direction?”

“... do people say that?”

“Not important, honeycow,” Mew chirped, making Trys flush and stammer. “Well, let’s away! We have a queen to do something mysterious to!”

“Um, hang on.” Trys kicked the floor with a wince. “We need to wait for the others, Morrowii.”

Mew was already several steps down. She looked back, blinking, her tail flicking recklessly. “Huh? Oh, okay, sure.” She walked back pouted, leaning to peer around the corner. “Where is Yathi, anyways? She better not have gotten caught before I got to play with her some more.”

“I am worried about more than the single member of the crew I consider the hottest.” Trys rolled her eyes.

“So what is the holdup?” Mew asked. The catgirl hopped to the next lowest step, then the next. “Weren’t they right behind us?“

Trys’s mind was racing. She didn’t like lingering here—the stairs had to be a high-traffic area, especially if the Thriae learned they had intruders, which was surely just a matter of time. They needed Brist and Yathi and Ia with them. What was going on?

She heard Mew take another step. “These stairs are gorgeous. I can actually kinda see through them!”

“Then keep an eye out,” Trys muttered. “Make certain no Thriae are coming our way from above or below.”

“You got it.” Mew clearly seemed happy for something to do. Catgirls were like that. “Yeah, okay. Upwards. Downwards. Above and below. I can do that.”

“Maybe do it quietly.” Trys took a nervous step forward, consulting whether to actually go back. If the others had gotten lost, she needed to find them. But lingering so near to the vats... She bit her lip. Even if Mew renewed the magic, this place was dangerous for her. And for Yathi. And for everybody.

She shifted from foot to foot, feeling not unlike Mew. They needed to move, damn it. They had made it this far into the hive through a mix of luck and careful timing, by moving quickly and surely, and suddenly they’d come to a halt in the exact wrong area to linger in. This was not and could never be a secure location. Especially without Brist to help construct one.

Her heart ached to go back. But how would she find the others? Thriae hives could be maze-like in their intricacy. Trys getting lost would not help anyone. At least everyone knew to look for stairs. Brist and Yathi and Ia would have each other, and Brist was better-equipped than anyone to get the other two downstairs. Plus, Ia could cover them if anyone lost control.

They needed to move on. but Trys hesitated. Another minute. Just one more, just in case. They could spare one more minute, provided Mew didn’t grow impatient.

She frowned. Her mind slowed down a little, changing course. Something felt off.

Mew had gotten awfully quiet.

She turned. “Mew, any sign of—oh, damn it.“

The catgirl was staring up into the depths of the translucent, gleaming spiral staircase. Her lips were parted, a thin trickle of drool dripping from them, and her eyes were as wide and glossy as saucers of honey.

“Mew!” Trys tried to keep her voice quiet, but it sawed up with frustration. She hurried over and grabbed the catgirl by the arm. “Snap out of it.”

“So... pretty...” the catgirl whispered, her voice slurred and soft. She was gazing up into the rising stairs in an expression of pure wonder.

“Screw it.” Trys grabbed Mew by the arm and began dragging her down the stairs, making the catgirl dimly squeak. “You clearly can’t be left here. We have to get to the queen.”

And the others had better be right behind,” she thought with a nervous pang.

If what she knew of Thriae hives held true, this level tended to have more peril than just the baths. Thriae kitchens tended to be close by, and the last thing Yathi needed was that kind of temptation.

Trys swallowed.

Everything was going wrong. She could only pray that the other three were keeping it together.

Ia and Yathi raced after the retreating footsteps, Yathi’s heart racing in her chest at a rapid flutter. She was still dripping under her clothes, and Ia’s hand gripped hers tightly, possessively, in a way that got Yathi way more excited than she could ever admit.

“Turn left here,” Yathi managed, trying to keep her voice level. “We need to find the stairs.”

“Hey, you’re our scout, aren’t you?” Ia giggled. “Where do you think they are? Shouldn’t you be leading me?”

“Now take this right.” Yathi refused to rise to Ia’s taunting. “I think—shit!“

“What?” Ia glanced at her, a frown creasing over those pretty dark eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“My sense of taste is back! And smell!” Yathi groaned. “Mew must have lost focus. Hang another right here.”

“I’ll bet.” Yathi saw Ia smirking. “Did you hear Trys’s voice earlier?”

“Ia, this is serious! Without any sense protection, we—we might—”

“Calm down, Yathers. We’ll be fine. I’m immune to these girls, remember? I’ll be happy to drag you and Brist away from any Thriae kicking and screaming.“

“Brist isn’t…” Yathi’s words were automatic, guided by a subconscious awareness of her surroundings, but her eyes widened as they clicked. “... with us.”

Ia stopped running with a frown. Her tongue stuck into her cheek. “Oh, shit. Do you think he’s with Trys and the cat?”

“H-He must be.” Yathi’s heart started to race. “Otherwise—” She bit back the thought. “We have to keep moving. He’ll catch up if he’s behind us.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ia took off again, and as they took one more right, they came face-to-face with a great spiral staircase. The staircase was carved of the same glimmering resin as the walls, slightly translucent, with an inherent glow that made Yathi feel strangely giddy. It curved elegantly, flawlessly, as if literally spun out of gold, ascending from levels below and rising up beyond the ceiling.

Out of misplaced habit, Yathi whispered a tiny thank-you to Adagas, the Pie Thief, God of Urgent Flights That Make One More Lost. Even dead gods deserved a blessing now and again. “Okay, we should wait here for Brist, just a minute.”

Ia leaned against the wall, idly sucking a finger. Yathi tried not to watch the suggestive display, even as her cheeks burned, realizing that Ia was tasting Yathi herself.

Instead, she focused on the hallway. Her breathing felt constricted. Come on, Brist, you idiot. Where the hell are you?

The dull, distant, seductive sounds of ambient buzzing were the only sound in the Hive as they lingered by the stairs. No awkward, lanky, tripping-over-his-own-robes wizard materialized.

Trys and Ia were alone in a Thriae hive.

She felt it then. The fear she’d been trying to hold back. Yathi felt like she was breathing empty air, like the floor was rising to meet the ceiling as the walls advanced from either side. “D-Damn it, Brist,” she whispered. She looked frantically back at the stairs, where Trys and Mew had disappeared to. “Damn it, Trys! Khelle of the Iron Rings take you both!”

“Easy does it, girl.” Ia’s voice was infuriatingly sweet, mellow, even sultry. “They’ll take care of themselves.”

“And what about us?” Yathi tried to keep her voice quiet, tried to keep her panic from taking over as her breathing swam further into the shallows and became angled in the reef. “W-We have no leader, no crystal mage, just—just—”

“Hey. Hey.” Ia reached over and grazed Yathi’s cheek. “Just calm d—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Yathi shrieked, and her hands flew to her mouth in horror. Too loud. Far too loud. Her heart was hammering at her ribcage with a crowbar.

“Yathi,” Ia said firmly, “shut up. Shut up and look at me.”

Yathi didn’t, though. Her breathing only sped up, became so irregular she could barely track where one breath ended and another began. She wasn’t even sure she was still breathing at all. Even when Ia reached out to grasp her shoulder to keep her from falling, still Yathi refused to look at her. She couldn’t. She didn’t dare. Ia was taking advantage of her. Brist was gone. Trys had abandoned them. They were trapped. They were lost.

“Shh,” she heard Ia murmuring. Her voice had turned uncharacteristically gentle. Ia’s hand reached up to stroke Yathi’s hair, and Yathi’s breath caught as the younger woman took her in her arms. “Shh. It’s fine. We’re gonna be fine, Yathi.”

Yathi didn’t return the hug, but she didn’t pull back, either. She leaned into the headpets, her breathing slowly steadying.

“That’s it,” Ia said, her voice soft, warm, soothing. “There’s a good girl.”

Now Yathi did meet Ia’s eyes. She tried to muster some anger, but her mind was in a maelstrom, and Ia’s soft, dark eyes offered safe harbor.

The headpets felt nice.

Ia’s touch felt nice.

“Good girl. Good girl.” Ia’s voice went on, a calm, comforting blanket of fog as her eyes held Yathi’s captive in those dark depths. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Good girls know they’re safe. Safe. Safe.”

“S-Safe,” Yathi whispered. She couldn’t muster any desire to fight. She wanted to feel safe, and aside from Ia, she was alone. If not to Ia’s arms, where would she go?

To a Thriae’s?

“That’s right,” Ia said, sounding pleased. She leaned in close and began tenderly kissing Yathi’s neck. “Good girls let smart girls make the decisions, don’t they?”

“G-Good...” Yathi shook her head. Her voice weak, feeling out the words like they were new to her, she managed, “W-Why are you doing this?”

“Mmm... good girl. Good girl.” Ia’s lips planted tiny teasing kisses over Yathi’s throat, over where her neck met her shoulders, her hands peeling back Yathi’s armor slightly for access. “Such a good girl.“

“I-Ia.” Yathi squirmed, even as she felt herself going limp, Ia’s gentle words exactly what every part of her longed to hear. “Ia, I… I don’t...”

Ia pulled back, smiling slyly up at her. Her lashes fluttered, and Yathi stared into them for a time.

For a long time.

Those glimmering, sparkling dark eyes.

“Oh, gods,” Yathi whispered, as the realization finally sank in—far too late, all things considered. “You’re compromised.”

Ia stared back at her, head tilting slightly. Then she leaned in and resumed her kisses, nibbling, soft sighs accompanying every delicate smack of her lips. “Yes.”

“You’re... t-training me.” Yathi’s voice longed to dissolve into a moan, and she fought to control it, even as she felt Ia lowering her onto the steps. Her knees were filled with honey, and she could only melt into Ia’s control. She had never known before just how weak her will was to this sort of tenderness, and it scared her, but not as much as it felt wonderful.

“Mm. Yes.” Ia giggled softly. “But not for the Thriae, you sweet, beautiful doomed girl.”

“You.. you have to fight it, Ia…”

“Mmm~” Ia rose up to kiss Yathi on the cheek, and Yathi quivered as she felt Ia’s hand once again slipping under her pants. “You first.”

Yathi whimpered. She felt her legs instinctively spreading and forced them shut, but it was only a temporary resistance and they both knew it. She bit her lip to hold in a mewl of pleasure as Ia’s other hand groped under her armor, under her shirt, reaching towards her sensitive, honey-leaking breasts. “B-Buh... but... but you... have to resist, Ia. Please.”

Ia’s lips, so soft, so warm, so irresistible. Her fingers, so deft, so trained in their slow, torturous approach.

“P-Please,” Yathi whimpered. This plea was not in resistance, and they both knew it. “F-Fight it…”

“Tried. Didn’t help. We all have wills and wants, Yathers. Sometimes the wants are stronger, y’know?” Her fingers teased along the edges of Yathi’s pussy lips. “Now blossom for me, little flower~”

“N-No,” Yathi whimpered, even as her legs began to obediently part. “Y-You... you have to...”

“You’re just too beautiful, Yathi.” Ia’s voice was as soft as feather down as she kissed the corner of Yathi’s mouth, as her fingers began to tease along Yathi’s clit. Yathi had to bite her hand just to avoid squealing in sudden pleasure. Her other hand ran up under Yathi’s shirt, over Yathi’s nipples, erect and dripping, and Yathi let out an involuntary moan. “And I’ve gotta serve my Mistress. I think I’ll love her to the end of her days. I can’t help it.” A pause. “Sorry. Really am.”

“I-If you were sorry,” Yathi said, wriggling and grinding against the fingers, “y-you’d stop.”

Ia cocked her head cutely down at her, a playful smile dancing over those pretty, pouty lips. “You want me to?”

Yathi stared up at Ia, squirmed, and gasped as a pair of fingers gave her nipple a pinch.

“Good girl.”

Yathi moaned louder. She grinded against Ia’s hand, bucking, whimpering, her senses deserting her body in the wake of Ia’s expert, delicate touches. It was like Ia knew just where to touch someone to drive them mad, to torment them beyond all reason. And yet her touch remained so tender and gentle. Loving, almost. Almost. But controlling, too. Possessive, too. Ruinous, too.

“Wow, you’re getting awfully noisy,” Ia purred. “You enjoying this, pretty thing?”

“P-pleeease,” Yathi whined. There was no pretense at resistance in her voice this time.

“I thought so.” Ia giggled. “But, you know, I don’t want any of you getting caught by Thriae. Mistress wouldn’t like it.” She pulled her hands away, and Ia couldn’t suppress a whimper of longing. “And me neither, honestly. So I’d better take care of you, huh?”

Yathi licked her lips and squirmed. She was still beneath Ia’s heat, beneath Ia’s scent. It felt as if mead addiction heightened all her senses, built her lust second by second the longer she went without.

“I’ll play nice until we’re out.” Ia smirked, and as she rose up, she grasped Ia’s arm and lifted the half-limp scout to her feet. “Just be a good girl for me ’til then.”

“W-Why would I—” Yathi swallowed. “Why would I even go with you now?”

“Well, you can go wherever you want, hottie.” Ia winked. “If you don’t want me taking care of you.”

She offered her hand.

Yathi’s mind felt foggy with doubt. Could she even function here on her own, much less find her way to the others? She’d thought she was only at Stage One addiction, but the way she felt here in the hive, she felt sure that running into even a single Thriae drone would be her undoing. She would drop to her knees and worship any Thriae that commanded her so.

And Ia was immune to the honey. Ia… Ia could keep her safe.

And it felt so comforting, so seductively cozy, to just… let her.

Hesitantly, she reached out and let Ia grasp her hand. Ia yanked her close.

“Good girl,” Ia cooed, and kissed Yathi on the cheek. Yathi whimpered. “Now, let’s us get to catching up. Up the stairs, right?”

“I-I think so, yeah. Yes.”

“Atta girl. See? Nothing to worry about.” Ia winked. They started the ascent. Yathi tried to look anywhere but those glittering dark eyes. “We’ll be back where we belong in no time~”

“Don’t even think about touching them.”

“Do you seriously think I would—”

“Or licking them. Don’t even.”

Trys stared at the catgirl, who seemed, in her playful, tail-twitching way, quite serious. Then she turned to look down at the room they’d found their way to.

They had to be close to the Queen’s Level now. This large chamber was too strange not to be important. It was at least fifty feet across, hexagonal, with each wall lined with what appeared to be especially reflective sheets of Thriae resin. Like mirrors, Trys thought. Strange windows into a parallel world of gold.

At the center of the room, raised above everything else, there stood an even stranger structure. It looked like a great roofed bath, perfectly circular. Unlike everything else in the Hive, it was made from stone bricks—albeit bricks lined in resin as if rimed with frost.

As Mew walked over to the bath, Trys made her way to the closest mirror. It was beautiful, held in an elegant, gleaming polished frame. “I thought fey didn’t like silver, or something to that effect?”

Mew didn’t answer.

Trys didn’t touch the mirror. She wasn’t a fool. Instead, she rested her hand on the resin wall behind it and carefully leaned forward, examining her own reflection.

She was very beautiful, she realized. Usually Trys didn’t really see her own beauty—she was just herself, a being that some desired and some didn’t. But staring at herself in the mirror, caught in that sweet golden light, admiring the way her blonde curls framed her face, her powerful physique, her generous bosom gently contained but little-disguised by her light, travel-friendly leather armor, Trys couldn’t help but admire herself.

She was hot.

Trys licked her lips. She’d been rendered addicted to the mead long ago, and her eyes gleamed gold—though one couldn’t tell in this tinted ‘mirror’, not even when her eyes seemed to glow against her pretty cheeks, her strong jawline, those lovely, kissable lips with the perfect cupid’s bow curve...

Trys was getting a little turned on, and that felt strange to her. But the longer she stared into her own reflection, the more sure she felt that it couldn’t be her reflection. Not because she wasn’t hot—she was, mouthwateringly, especially when she undid the topmost strap of her armor and admired her flawless bare shoulder, lightly freckled—but because the way her reflection smiled at her...

She looked like a stranger.

Trys’s heart fluttered as the reflection beamed at her, tilted her head quizzically to the side.

A very, very beautiful stranger.

Trys leaned in closer, her lips parting. The stranger seemed to giggle, and Trys giggled back. Everything in her mind felt oddly... glossy. Glassy. Like a sheen had been painted over everything, a glaze, keeping every little thought in her head perfect and preserved and motionless so her only thoughts were of those pretty eyes, those kissable lips, the armor spilling away to reveal that undershirt and those big breasts bouncing out and jiggling beneath the translucent protection.

She leaned in, and the sugary glaze filling her mind seemed to slosh, and it felt so good to let her brain melt like that that, so she leaned in closer, and the stranger’s lips were so near to her own—

“What did I say?“

Trys started and spun around, and a buzzing in her head she hadn’t even noticed abruptly faded. She licked her lips and looked back at the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, red-faced and wide-eyed, half the straps on the top of her leather armor undone—though it was, at least, still on.

As she stared, her reflection suddenly seemed to wink, and it reached up to cup a breast through the armor with a sly, knowing smile.

She turned away quickly, coughing, and hurriedly redid the straps of her armor. Mew looked amused, though there was an edge to that gaze, too, a caution that made Trys worry.

“What is it?” she asked, when she was mostly presentable again. Aside from her red cheeks.

“A ley well,” Mew said, misunderstanding Trys’s question. Her eyes flicked back to the strange bath-like contraption. “Right in the middle of the Hive.”

“Technically, I think we’re close to the bottom of the Hive.” Trys’s brow wrinkled. “A ley well is... it’s where fey magic come from, isn’t it?”

“It’s where fey come from.” Mew’s head tilted. “Sometimes. Sort of. Like, not that we climb out of it or anything, usually.” She reached forward and fixed a strap for Trys, making the warrior flinch and stumble back reflexively. “But it… keeps our, like, ‘immortal essence’ safe. Sometimes really strong Thriae hives claim one and nest around it.”

“So...” Trys looked at the mirrors, blinking slowly. “So those are where Thriae emerge from.”

“Mm-hm.” Mew seemed pleased at Trys’s quick guess, but there was a curious glint to those green eyes of hers. “You know… this is pretty stupid.”

“What is?”

“Your plan. Us being here. Especially with a ley well around, it means the whole thing is pointless. How did your bosses not know they had one?” Mew’s eyes narrowed rested on the well. “People can go into a Thriae hive and come out okay. It’s not easy, but even Thriae have sort of rules, patterns, you know? I know people who managed it. Or knew. Once.” She frowned. “Or something. It’s hard to remember before I emerged, but, like... something like that, you know?“

“No.” Trys said honestly. Mew seemed to be getting off-topic.

“It’s why you can’t kill fey.” Mew looked disdainfully at Trys’s sheathed sword. “We just come back later. We’re... different, but we come back.”

“So you’ve died before?”

“I died lots, probably. Else faded.” She shrugged. “I don’t remember a ton, though. I’m pretty sure I’ve always been with the druids of the Evergreen, though, or near them.”

“So. " Trys bit her lip, looking around them as understanding of Mew’s frustration sank in. “You’re saying we can’t kill the Thriae, because they have a well right here?”

“They’re basically unstoppable, yeah.” Mew seemed to recover her train of thought. “I mean, Hives usually are, but this seals it. You think you’re gonna kill the queen or something? It can’t work with a breeding chamber this big.”

“We were going to replace her, not kill her.”

“What makes a replacement any different?” Mew snapped. “Like, won’t the new one still want to conquer your little town?”

“We can select for a replacement who is weaker, more vulnerable—”

“So they’ll replace her.”

“But with the brief vulnerability, we can push them back and—”

“Nothing you say makes any sense!” Mew burst out. “Those humans all seem to figure you know what you’re doing, but your plan is... it doesn’t make any sense!” Her arms flew up into the air and her voice rose. “Am I missing something? Am I the dumb catgirl? You run into a Thriae hive with two addicts, you try to find the queen—”

“It won’t work without the full team.” Trys walked over and sat on the edge of the well. Indeed, it wasn’t a bath. It was very deep, with a golden-green light emanating from far below.

“None of you are even, like, mindweavers or whatever! What’s your team gonna do?” Mew rolled her eyes. “I just don’t get it. I figured I would when we got here, like, I was missing something, you know? I’m not great at thinking ahead. But it kind of feels like your plan just, you know...” She folded her arms and scowled. “It doesn’t make sense.“

Trys gritted her teeth.

“Not to mention how you just kind of abandoned the others.” Mew’s temper seemed to be subsiding, flying cinders becoming dry smoke. “Your plan was already bad, and now we can’t even do your bad plan, and now you’re stuck in a Thriae hive so you can get honeyed up for some stupid city. Do I have that right?”

“Why do you even care?” Trys was getting irritated, but also uncomfortable. She knew her explanations sounded hollow. “You just came here so you could keep tormenting Yathi and I. If you knew it was doomed, why did you—”

“I’m a fey! What’s your excuse?”

Trys tried to keep her voice mellow, calm, and condescending, as if she was explaining the obvious. “If we install a new queen, we might be able to negotiate with her. The Hive will calm down, and we can leave them here.“

“That’s a great plan.” Mew ducked back into Trys’s eye contact with a vicious smile. “Except like, your bosses aren’t gonna leave them here, I bet. Right?”

“I thought fey weren’t good at long-term stuff.”

Mew laughed. “You think this is my first time dealing with humans like you? Like your bosses? What happens when you report back that the mine belongs to Thriae now for good?”

“They...” Trys bit her lip. “They’ll...”

“Spit it out~” Mew’s eyes were unyielding now, a cat with a claw on the mouse’s tail. Her tail was flicking. She wanted the mouse to run. She wanted Trys to say something else foolhardy so she could tear it down for the absurd fabrication it was. Mew had found a puzzle and was happily taking her time solving it.

But Trys found she didn’t want to play these games anymore.

“They won’t understand,” she said quietly. “They’ll send us back, or they’ll… they will pay someone else to do it. City people do not understand the fey. In our best-case scenario, the current owners give up and sell to someone else, someone else thinks they can succeed where their predecessor failed. It doesn’t stop.”

Mew looked startled. She blinked once, twice. “So what’s the point of any of this?”

“The...” Trys stared at the catgirl. The catgirl stared back, unsympathetic, simply curious. Her voice went softer still. “There is no point, Morrowii. Not as long as the Hive is intact. Mortals can’t beat the Thriae.“

She put her head in her hands. Gods, it felt so good to say it out loud.

“My plan was never for us to beat the Thriae.”

Through the cracks between her fingers, she saw Mew’s tail stop flicking. The catgirl took a while to reply—whether it was out of guilt or simply not having anything to say, Trys couldn’t tell without looking up. And Trys didn’t look up.

She didn’t cry. Trys wasn’t a cryer. But she reached for the meditative place that had brought her so much peace before and simply couldn’t find it. She sat there and wished to turn into stone.

Finally, Mew spoke. She didn’t sound guilty, but she didn’t sound amused, anymore, either.

“So what… was the plan?”