The old house groaned around them, a symphony of settling bones. But it wasn’t the creaks or the shadows that prickled Leo’s skin. It was the door. Small, honey-colored, and tucked away in the dustiest corner of the attic, it hummed with a strange, sweet energy. “Don’t be a baby,” Luna whispered, her voice barely a tremor in the thick silence. “It’s just a door.”
The doorknob was warm, like holding a captured sunbeam. With a click that echoed louder than a gunshot in the still air, the door swung inward. A scent, thick and cloying, of burnt sugar and something else… something metallic and wrong, washed over them. Beyond the threshold was not a closet, but a swirling vortex of amber light.
“I’m going in,” Luna declared, her earlier bravado returning. Before Leo could protest, she stepped through the shimmering curtain. Her silhouette was there one moment, a dark shape against the golden light, and gone the next. A chilling silence descended, broken only by the hum of the portal.
Panic seized Leo. He called her name, his voice cracking. He lunged for the portal, his own fear eclipsed by the terror of losing her. The world dissolved into a sticky, warm nothingness, the scent of honey and blood filling his senses.
He landed on something soft and yielding. The air was thick, the light a perpetual, sickly sunset. Strange, hunched figures with glistening carapaces moved in the distance, their movements jerky and unnatural. And there was Luna, standing by a twisted, black tree, a strange, serene smile on her face.
“Leo! You came!” Her voice was different. Higher, sweeter, like honey dripping from a spoon. She beckoned to him. “Come meet the Beekeeper. He’s been waiting.” From behind the tree, a towering figure emerged. It was impossibly tall and thin, draped in what looked like white burial shrouds, its head adorned with a wide-brimmed hat covered in pale, wilting flowers.
The Beekeeper’s head tilted, a dry, rustling sound like dead leaves skittering across pavement. It didn’t speak, but a voice echoed in Leo’s mind, a voice made of a thousand buzzing whispers. Welcome, little morsel. You smell of fear. It is… delicious.
Leo scrambled backward, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. “Luna, we have to go!” But Luna just smiled that same placid smile. “Go? But we just got here. The Beekeeper has given me such a wonderful gift.” She turned her back to him, and Leo’s blood ran cold.
Sprouting from the center of Luna’s back was a grotesque, glistening mound of honeycomb, pulsing with a faint, internal light. Tiny, winged creatures crawled in and out of its waxy cells. She wasn’t his sister anymore. She was a hive.
The buzzing in Leo’s head intensified, the Beekeeper’s voice a triumphant roar. She is our Queen. And you… you will be the first offering. Leo turned to run, but the honey-colored ground had become a thick, viscous tar, holding him fast. He looked down at his own hands and saw them beginning to glisten, to change. The door was still open, a distant, mocking rectangle of light. But it wasn’t a way out.
It was just the entrance to the pantry.
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