The message came on Day 106, and it arrived from the last creature anyone expected to hear from.
Shadow woke everyone just after dawn with a telepathic relay that carried confusion and alarm in equal measure.
Ant forces at the northern boundary. Not attacking. They're asking to talk. Scar-Mandible herself is asking for parley.
"That's impossible," Bitey said immediately, already moving into defensive posture despite having just woken up. "Scar-Mandible doesn't ask. She commands or she attacks. She doesn't do diplomacy."
But when Kai reached the boundary, the truth was undeniable and deeply strange.
A small group of ant soldiers in careful formation, all producing pheromone markers that spoke of military discipline rather than aggression. And at the front, antenna scarred and jaw asymmetrical from old wounds that had healed wrong, was Scar-Mandible herself.
The ant commander looked different than during their last encounter three weeks ago. Not physically different. Something else. The absolute confidence that had defined her was cracked somehow, like she'd encountered something that had broken fundamental assumptions about how the world worked.
Her chemical communication came sharp and direct.
We need to talk about what's in the deep water. About what's waking up. About what's coming for all of us whether we're ready or not.
"You attacked us three weeks ago. Tried to overwhelm us with superior numbers. Why would I trust anything you say now?" Kai kept voice carefully neutral.
Because something came up from the deep channels two days ago. Scar-Mandible's pheromones carried weight that couldn't be faked. Real fear. Something my colony has no memory of encountering in fifty generations. It killed seventeen soldiers before we drove it back. And it's not alone. There are more in the deep water. More waking up. More getting ready to rise when the system purges.
Shadow's private thought filtered just to Kai. She's genuinely terrified. Not tactical fear. Existential. Whatever she saw broke something in her.
Kai looked at the ant commander. At the careful formation. At tension in bodies designed for perfect coordination.
"What exactly did you see?"
Scar-Mandible chose markers carefully.
Multiple limbs. Aquatic but capable of movement on land for short periods. Coordinated hunting patterns suggesting intelligence rather than instinct. And there were two of them working together. Two different species hunting as a unified pack. That's not natural.
The stones whispered: multiple predator species. Organized cooperation. Coordinated assault.
"The old ones warned about this," Kai said quietly. "In the stones."
The carved warnings you've been collecting. Her markers shifted to something like respect. We knew. We watched you gather them. We thought you were wasting time on ancient history. We were wrong.
"You've been watching us?" Twitchy asked, sharp.
Of course. You're young predators showing unusual intelligence in our territory. We'd be fools not to. No apology. Just pragmatism. But that isn't important now. What matters is the cycle is repeating. And we're all in its path.
Scout slipped from a side tunnel. "The water pressure changed again last night. It's spiking now. Like the system is prepping for rapid release."
"How long?"
"Days. Three, maybe four."
Scar-Mandible's markers turned dry. So we have three days to prepare for what destroyed a civilization with better preparation than ours. Excellent.
"Why come to us?"
Because this isn't about territory anymore. We coordinate or we die separately.
Silence stretched. The stones stood in every mind.
"If we coordinate," Kai said, "we do it as separate groups. Not under your command. Not merged. We share intel and responses, but keep autonomy. Agreed?"
Relief flickered in Scar-Mandible's scent. Agreed.
"Then we start now. Tell us everything."
What followed should have been impossible. Chemical precision, telepathic stitching, and practical translation turned into a shared map:
— Predators waking from deep dormancy.
— Multiple species showing intelligence and cooperation.
— Timed to flood release.
"They're using the flood as cover," Whisper said. "Deliberate strategy."
"Which means tactics," Bitey answered. "Disaster plus organized assault."
We've defended against armies, Scar-Mandible sent. Not while the ground itself tried to kill us.
"The old ones failed," Kai said. "We're missing something they didn't see—or we have something they didn't."
"We have three days," Twitchy said. "To find the difference."
"Terrible odds," Dig said cheerfully. "Which means creative solutions."
"Or just dying," Scout said.
Prepare your defenses; we'll prepare ours, Scar-Mandible concluded. Share what we learn. And keep reading those stones. The old ones tried to tell us something critical.
She withdrew with military economy, leaving the air thin behind her.
"Three days," Scout said, pressing close. "Maybe four. Then everything changes."
They returned to the den. Shadow had already woven the update through every mind.
Kai faced the eleven stones. Warnings. Chapters. A manual written by the doomed.
"We have three days," Kai said to all of them. "Predators waking. Flood coming. A temporary alliance born of desperation. And a record of total failure."
"So what do we do?" Current asked.
Kai looked at seven different faces, seven different minds: Twitchy, Scout, Whisper, Bitey, Dig, Current, Shadow.
"We do what they couldn't," Kai said. "We stay flexible. We adapt fast. We coordinate without losing identity. We let different minds lead different problems, and we change plans when reality changes."
"And if it's not enough?" Whisper asked.
"Then we make sure someone finds our stones," Kai said. "But I think we have what they didn't."
"What?" Current asked.
"Each other. Not a perfect hierarchy. A network. That difference might matter."
Shadow touched everyone gently: Three days. We face this as individuals who choose to work together.
Outside, pressure climbed. In the deep, predators rose. Nearby, an ant army prepared beside those who should have been enemies.
The stones waited. Eleven warnings. Eleven hard lessons.
The flood was coming.
The predators were rising.
And seven young World Cats were about to test whether flexibility could beat perfection.