Her Worst Nightmare

((CONTENT WARNING: blood, gore, violence)) The hive was unusually cold.  Even less usual, it was empty.  As Spinneret wandered the ever-changing corridors, there was not a single changeling in sight.  She made her way to the dungeon, which conveniently doubled as the hive's mess hall; not even the prisoners-slash-meals were there.  Not only that, there was no trace of them ever being there, no remnants of changeling cocoons.  In fact, there was no sign that anycreature had ever been in the hive. Okay, she told herself, no need to panic.  Sure, the hive's abandoned, but...maybe they just all went out and forgot her?  Spinneret decided the best thing she could do at the moment was go into the barracks, slip into her hole, and sleep until someling came back. As she left the mess hall, she found herself confused by the twists and turns of the hive.  This was odd to her; as a changeling, she was supposed to know her way around.  Then again, her sense of direction was always among the worst in the hive.  She couldn't find her way out of a boot with instructions on the heel, as the nymphs say.  This was further proven when she accidentally stumbled into the throne room.  Empty.  Even the Queen was gone.  Spinneret examined the throne; it was oddly pristine, as though it had just received its tri-daily cleaning.  Not even a stray speck of the Queen's mane rested on the seat or stuck to the back.  She turned back around the way she came. After several more wrong turns, she finally arrived at the barracks.  The bunk holes were all open; any changeling would know that meant they were empty.  That, or everyling inside them was waiting to jump out and yell "SURPRISE!!"  Whatever.  She yawned as she climbed up to her bunk hole, only to feel something drip onto her leg.  Could be the moisture the hive usually produced; more likely, it was drool or urine.  Spinneret sighed and gave it a sniff.  As soon as the scent entered her nostril, she froze.  Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, she wanted nothing more than to shake the liquid off of her hoof, but she just couldn't. Once the shock wore off, Spinneret took off to check the hole above hers.  The stench got worse as she approached it, and once the hole was at her eye level, her suspicions were proven correct.  There, amid a pool of green hemolymph, was an empty changeling shell. Spinneret threw up.  It wasn't the sight of the dead body that got to her, but who the dead body was: her brother, Pedipalp.  She flew back into her bunk hole and sobbed.  She could see the exoskeletal remains of some of her other friends across from her; Prosoma, Ommatidium, Ocellus...she couldn't stand it anymore.  She left the barracks and flew out of the residential hive.  As the fresh air entered her lungs, her thoughts started to clear up.  As far as she knew, she was the last changeling in the hive.  Thus, the responsibility fell upon her to ensure the larvae grew up to inherit what was left. The tearful changeling shook her head vigorously.  She couldn't waste time crying -- the grubs needed her.  Her legs carried her into the nursery hive faster than her brain could process the action.  Whatever did this might come back...worse yet, it might not be over.  As she launched herself into the nursery hive, all she could think was how much she needed to protect the larvae and the eggs. Her hooves landed in something wet and sticky.  As she pressed on, crunching could be heard beneath her steps.  She dared not look down, wanting to believe the obvious wasn't true.  Sadly, when she got further inside, she could no longer deny what had happened; littered across the floor were the shells of changeling eggs, not hatched, but smashed open. Before she could fully process the sight, an ear-piercing screech filled her ears.  Without thinking, Spinneret ran through the remains of her species' future towards the source.  Right when she thought she had it pinned down, it faded.  Spinneret cautiously continued forward, quickening her pace at the sound of another screech.  She skidded to a stop before rounding a corner, peeking out to see a pegasus.  Gripped between its teeth, the body of a changeling larva, their head screaming in vain for mercy as a hoof held it down to the floor.  A screech.  The pegasus gave the grub's body a yank.  A shriek.  The pegasus continued its pull.  A wail. A crunch. "I...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry..." Spinneret repeated softly to herself as she galloped out of the nursery hive.  "Why...why can I never do anything?!"  As another shriek rang out behind her, she fled through the entrance, only to bump into something. Spinneret looked up.  Long, blue legs led to a torso, then a neck, then a head, then a horn.  Surrounding it, a mane, flowing, filled with stars.  The Princess of the Night opened her mouth to speak, but before any words could come out, Spinneret jolted awake. She looked around her room, hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face.  She stumbled out of bed and to her toilet, kneeling over and vomiting.  It wasn't what her subconscious had shown her that made her sick; it was what it hadn't. The princesses knew she was in Equestria.