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... front of a cell in her hive. The cell was crackling, with tiny-lightnings occasionally crossing the wax cover and zapping any bee that got too close. It was not particularly popular among her workers, but the Fourth of the Eighth couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

The honey made by the soldiers was…strange. It looked like honey, acted like honey, and tasted like honey. By all accounts, it was honey. And yet…there was something ephemeral about it. Quite literally. On her first attempts to ...

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