When the larvae finally spun their cocoons and began their final gestation state, Demetant was finally given a chance to rest. Unwilling to surrender its freedom, the champion-to-be was the last to start spinning, but in the end even she wasn't able to overcome her instincts.
It was a fascinating process and one that Demetant had greatly enjoyed. The grubs did most of the work, but the Tenders were there to help them in case there were any problems with the weaving and make sure the cocoons were properly formed. Once the grubs were in their cocoons, the work didn't stop, they simply moved on to the next phase. Even if they weren't eating or moving, that didn't mean there wasn't care that could be provided to the developing ants within. Proper moisture regulation, soothing pheromones, and of course proper aura distribution were required to ensure healthy growth. Once safely inside their cocoons, the metamorphosis would begin. Each grub would literally melt down, liquifying her body in order to reforge the raw materials into something new entirely. Hard carapace would take form gradually, soft at first and growing increasingly stiff once their growth was complete. Legs, antennae, digestion, stomach, social-stomach, all of the organs that were imbued to them by the Queen would form.
Once they were ready, they would emerge into the light once more, reborn. For one, Demetant couldn't wait to meet them.
But that would take time. Meanwhile, she would do what Brood Tenders did and make sure that the hatchlings would have the best possible gestation period they could have. However, the knowledge that there was likely to be a champion in the chamber had broader implications for the Colony and complicated the process a little.
"Really now," Doonant huffed as she returned to the chamber, an extremely rare crack in her placid demeanour on display. "They are asking so many questions that I don't have answers for. What are they expecting? She's in a cocoon, there isn't much trouble she can get up to in there."
"They interviewed you again?" Demetant asked hesitantly. "Is that really necessary?"
Doonant skittered amongst the many developing brood, going from one pupa to the next, making sure that they were in as good condition as they had been when she'd been so unnecessarily pulled away.
"I think they are eager to try and get ahead of the champion and figure out what her particular field of interest might be. I would have thought they might have learned from their experience with Merchant, but it seems the bulk of the Brood Tenders have only doubled down. They think if they are better prepared, then there is no eventuality they cannot accomodate."
"What happened with Merchant?" Demetant hesitated.
There had been lessons about managing the development of champions while she was learning her craft as a Brood Tender, but the prospect of actually having to care for one, let alone be responsible for their development, was so remote that it wasn't an especially large focus of the curriculum. For the most part, she'd thought that the Colony generally just threw them at the Eldest and let them deal with it.
"Merchant wasn't able to decide what her focus was and nothing in particular took her interest. In desperation they took her into the human settlement and she found something interesting up there. A champion isn't necessarily born knowing what they want to do for the rest of their lives. We know that now. So who can possibly say what this one might be interested in? Just because they behave a certain way as a grub doesn't mean anything."
She considered for a moment, her regular placid and warm demeanour returning in full.
"Although Brilliant was a curious little thing from the get-go, constantly escaping and running about the place, trying to find everything she could get her mandibles on, even as a grub. So who knows?"
Personally, Demetant thought she knew what interested this particular grub. She had, after all, had to save the little thing from itself over and over again. Why was it so keen on risking itself? The answer seemed quite obvious, but she hesitated to say anything. If she was right, what did it matter? If she was wrong, then her words might lead the Tenders looking over this particular case astray.
There was the other thing tickling at the back of her mind as well. She had definitely seen a grub wiggle over to the champion and thwack her on the back of the head. That wasn't normal behavior for a grub, not even close. After witnessing that event, she'd trawled through her memories and the logs for everything relating to the growth of that particular larva and found nothing extraordinary. If anything, it was an exemplary example of a young grub's development lifecycle. Meals taken perfectly, rest taken perfectly, no incidents, no problems, no anything.
It only became suspicious when she looked at it knowing there might have been something different about the grub. If there had ever been a more flawless example of a growing grub, then she hadn't seen it. Even the cocoon she had woven was flawless. Meticulous even. How a normal grub could be capable of that level of performance, unaided, was surely not possible. A suspicion had been growing in her ever since and she watched not one but two of the pupae constantly.
And then came the fateful day they were due to hatch.
Demetant watched, her core in her mandibles as the first of the pupae began to break through the inner layer of its cocoon. Inside the chamber, it was herself, Doonant, and the other two Tenders who were responsible for this group the other half of the day. Outside of the chamber was an entirely different story. She knew there were dozens of Tenders out there, specialists in various fields and even members of the Council wanting to be present for the birth of a new Colony champion.
Which pupa was first to crack? It was obvious which one it was going to be. However, the other cocoon she had been watching closely wasn't far behind. Demetant was almost shaking with excitement watching the first grubs she had ever cared for begin to eclose. Forget about there being a champion here, she was simply overjoyed to fulfill her purpose.
With a final surge, the first of the hatchlings broke free, gasping from the frenzied effort she had exerted to emerge.
"I..." she said.
Demetant and the other tenders leaned closer.
"Can..." she went on, gathering strength.
Outside the chamber, dozens of other Tenders leaned in, listening in with their antennae.
"FLYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!" the hatchling roared before flinging herself off the top of her cocoon.
Desperately flapping her legs in the air but finding no purchase there, the hatchling caught a surprising amount of air before plunging down to the ground and faceplanting onto the floor.
Nearby, another hatchling emerged, far neater and more dignified, having cut through her cocoon with meticulous bites. She looked down at her sibling, sighed, then turned to Demetant.
"This idiot," she grumped," probably needs a doctor."