Chapter 1
The Honeycomb Queen of Pocahontas ParishChapter 1 — AriesCannon Hears the Hive FirstWritten by Valeri Caronna
Opening Scripture — Isaiah 60:1Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
Kabbalah Quote:“Fire reveals what sleeping darkness hoped would remain hidden.”
Norse Rune: Kenaz
Torch. Revelation. Dangerous illumination.
Gemstone: Carnelian
Courage. Fire. Action. Blood-warm warning.
Pendulum: Strong Clockwise
Yes. Active. The parish current has awakened.
9-Card Tarot Spread:Queen of Wands
Ace of Wands
The Tower
Page of Swords
Strength
The High Priestess
Judgement
The Star
The Sun
Cannon heard the humming before sunrise.
Not music.
Not insects.
Not power lines.
This sound moved under the roads.
He stood outside the old parish boundary near the abandoned lantern post beyond Strawberry Brick Boardwalk with one hand resting on the hood of his truck. Fog rolled low through the ditchwater and cypress roots while the blacktop beneath his boots vibrated once.
Then again.
Slow.
Deep.
Alive.
Cannon lifted the dead boundary lantern hanging beside the road.
Its glass had been dark for years.
Tonight, faint blue-gold light flickered inside it.
His jaw tightened.
“That ain’t good.”
The citrine pendulum hanging from the rearview mirror inside the truck began spinning clockwise all by itself.
Yes.
Active.
The parish current had awakened.
Cannon looked down the long empty road stretching toward Honey Road, Strawberry Jubilee Bookstore, Richardson Hardware, and the old courthouse district farther into Pocahontas Parish.
Every direction felt connected.
Like roots underneath dirt.
Like veins underneath skin.
Then the road hummed again.
This time Cannon heard voices inside it.
Not clear voices.
Whispers.
Women’s whispers.
Girls laughing.
Lantern chains rattling.
The turning of old paper ledger pages.
He whispered the scripture under his breath.
“Arise, shine; for thy light is come.”
The dead lantern suddenly flared blue-gold.
The first tarot card appeared reflected in the lantern glass.
Queen of Wands.
Cannon stared at the reflection.
Fire.
Authority.
A feminine force rising fast enough to burn the whole parish if nobody grounded it.
The lantern glass cracked slightly.
Not from damage.
From pressure.
Something beneath Pocahontas Parish was waking up stronger than the Honeycomb House alone could hold.
His phone buzzed.
VAL.
Cannon answered immediately.
“You hearing it too?”
Val did not waste time.
“Yes.”
Behind her voice, he could hear movement inside the Honeycomb House. Lantern chains. The turning of the green ledger. Daughters talking over one another.
Kevin’s voice came through somewhere farther back.
“Tell Cannon the back roads lit up.”
Cannon looked down the highway.
The old abandoned lantern posts lining the parish roads were glowing one by one in the fog.
Blue.
Gold.
Blue.
Gold.
Like the whole parish was reconnecting.
The second tarot card flashed across the windshield of the truck.
Ace of Wands.
A beginning.
A spark.
The first ignition point.
Val’s voice lowered.
“The hive spread past Honey Road.”
“I know.”
“How far?”
Cannon looked toward the distant tree line where the road curved near the old trestle.
“Far enough.”
The truck radio burst into static.
Then a woman’s voice whispered through it:
She is waking.
The radio died.
Cannon yanked the cord loose.
The road beneath him shook harder.
The third tarot card appeared in the cracked lantern glass.
The Tower.
The old parish lantern post split down the center.
Wood cracked.
Rust fell.
Blue-gold light burst from inside the pole itself like something had been buried there decades ago.
Cannon stepped back.
Underneath the broken lantern post was honeycomb ironwork.
Old.
Blackened.
Hidden under layers of parish concrete and dirt.
He crouched beside it carefully.
The ironwork formed the shape of a crown.
Not decorative.
Structural.
Like the roads themselves had once been part of a larger hive network.
The humming intensified.
Cannon stood quickly and got back into the truck.
“Val,” he said sharply, “this ain’t just the house.”
Silence.
Then Val answered softly.
“I know.”
At the Honeycomb House, the green ledger slammed open by itself.
Cannon could hear it through the phone.
Pages turning.
Lanterns rattling.
Then Lynne praying somewhere in the background.
“Lord cover this parish in the blood of Jesus…”
The fourth tarot card appeared on Cannon’s dashboard.
Page of Swords.
Watcher.
Messenger.
Warning carried faster than comfort.
The truck headlights flickered toward the trees.
Something moved out there.
Tall.
Female.
Not fully solid.
Made of drifting bees and lantern smoke.
Cannon’s hand instinctively moved toward the rifle behind the seat.
But the figure did not attack.
It simply watched him.
Then pointed toward Pocahontas Parish.
Not Honey Road.
The whole parish.
The fifth card appeared beside the speedometer.
Strength.
Cannon steadied himself.
This chapter was not about panic.
It was about controlled courage.
The figure in the trees dissolved into bees.
The humming beneath the road deepened.
At Honeycomb House, Kevin opened the gate while daughters gathered outside with lanterns in their hands. Ginger arrived from Breakfast at Tiffany’s carrying melted purple candlewax in a glass bowl. Lisa rushed in from Caronna Richardson holding numerology pages covered in repeating queen sequences.
Val stood in the foyer holding the green ledger.
The ledger wrote only one sentence.
THE PARISH REMEMBERS HER.
The sixth tarot card appeared across the page.
The High Priestess.
Hidden knowledge.
Sacred feminine mystery.
The thing waking beneath Pocahontas Parish was older than Silas Crowe.
Older than the Black Hive corruption.
Older than the daughters themselves.
Lynne looked up from prayer.
“That’s why the roads are humming.”
Kevin turned toward Val.
“She’s tied to the parish.”
Val nodded slowly.
“Not just the house.”
Outside, every lantern on Honey Road ignited blue-gold at once.
The seventh tarot card appeared above the gate.
Judgement.
A calling.
A reckoning.
A resurrection of buried things.
Throughout Pocahontas Parish:
Lantern posts reignited.
Old honeycomb symbols resurfaced beneath cracked pavement.
Hidden markings appeared in Strawberry Jubilee Bookstore.
The courthouse bell rang by itself.
At Richardson Hardware, buried iron beneath the concrete floor began vibrating.
At Breakfast at Tiffany’s, glasses trembled on the shelves.
At the Strawberry Law Firm, sealed records fell from storage cabinets onto the floor.
Judgement had called the whole parish awake.
The eighth tarot card appeared in the sky reflection on Cannon’s windshield.
The Star.
Hope.
Guidance.
A map through darkness.
For one brief moment, Cannon saw glowing lantern roads stretching beneath the entire parish like constellations.
Honey Road.
Strawberry Brick Road.
Strawberry Brick Courtyard.
Backstreet.
The Trestle.
The Boardwalk.
All connected.
All humming.
Then the vision vanished.
The final tarot card appeared burning inside the cracked lantern.
The Sun.
The blue-gold light exploded outward across the road.
Warm.
Holy.
Dangerous.
The female silhouette formed again in the fog beyond the trees.
This time Cannon saw the honeycomb crown above her head.
Not black.
Gold.
Alive.
Not a monster.
Not fully human either.
A force.
A covenant.
A memory returning to the parish itself.
The figure looked directly at him.
Then she spoke.
“Tell Val the queen never belonged to the hive.”
The lantern shattered.
Darkness swallowed the roadside.
Cannon stood alone breathing hard beside the broken post while the humming continued beneath the earth.
He grabbed his keys immediately.
At Honeycomb House, Val closed the ledger.
Kevin looked at her.
“What now?”
Outside, every daughter’s lantern burned blue-gold beneath the dark Louisiana sky.
Val looked toward the parish roads.
“Now,” she whispered, “we find out who buried her.”
Closing Christian Prayer:Lord, awaken only what is holy, expose every hidden corruption, and guide us through the darkness with truth and protection. Amen.
