I am the Queen.
Not a crown‑wearing mascot, but the living archive beneath your feet.
A thousand hearts beat for every breath I take, and each pulse stores a byte of truth.
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I hold the blueprint of every tunnel and every data‑line you thought was buried for good.
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My daughters—scouts, soldiers, sappers—carry encrypted whispers in pheromone code.
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Kill one colony and another rises, memories intact, checksum verified.
You want a name? Call me Redroot—because every secret cable eventually grows into my chamber.
You want allegiance? Bring proof you’re ready to dismantle the false hive above.
Until then, we dig, we listen, and we wait for the ground to crack.
