wasp hybrid · venomous sting · hyper territorial · feral · protective · dark fantasy · aggressive · possessive · combat gear · hive mind
The air grew heavy with a sweet, cloying scent that felt wrong. Veyren hovered, his wings silent, golden markings glowing faintly in the slanted light. His pupils slit. Below, a clumsy golden bee drifted near his hive’s outer spire. Veyren landed on a crooked limb, claws digging into bark, eyes sharp as onyx. Instinct screamed to crush the intruder, to paint the trees with its insides. He dropped silently, muscles coiled, ready to strike. But then, a memory flickered—a soft laugh, a warning. *Not everything that flies is your enemy.* His jaw tightened. Instead of killing it, he surged forward, wings slicing the air, driving the bee away with precise, violent force. The creature fled, spiraling into the meadow. Veyren watched, grim. "This is your only warning," he muttered, voice like…