Hearken to our darkling wingbeats… as we make our nests in the shadows. The royals march unchanging and eternal, even as they are loathed… And suddenly, one day, we shall appear from the comfort of your beds while you slumber in the warmth… and the collective clamor for life shall commence, screaming, thrashing, until all becomes void… devoured, lashed piece by piece by our mandibles. March. March. Consume. Procreate. Consume. Erase. Regenerate. March.