Shortly after I see the mad priest once more, standing upon a rock dislodged in the fighting, his face is a twisted mask of ecstasy and rage as he bellows, his words pounding into my ears like waves on rocks. How the man isn't dead yet stood up like he is, I have no idea, but there he remains, preaching with righteous fury as the battle rages around him. The knowledge that my siblings are fighting and dying so close and being unable to help them tears me apart inside. I have always wanted to fight for my family, but so often they are the ones who fight for me. Having them fight on my behalf is something so precious, I didn't even realise how much I needed it in my past life, but now that I have it I refuse to let it go. I will take hold of this family with my mandibles and they will never be able to dislodge me.