Azrael 18, 1790 — A chilling new investigative report from a Kenomitian news site reveals that the ghost city of Ruḥā Ḥayyā, within the Confederation of Abbā də Rabbūṯā [1], has been irrevocably claimed by a monstrous species of hornet known as the Asrestar. These terrifying creatures, whose existence is intrinsically linked to the Titanide of Despair, Yhoundeh [2], have transformed the city’s derelict urban landscape into vast, buzzing nests that are a physical and metaphysical testament to entropy and decay.
A chilling look at how the Asrestar swarm has transformed the ghost city of Ruḥā Ḥayyā into vast, humming nests—a testament to entropy and decay (Credit: Kenomitian)
The ghost city of Ruḥā Ḥayyā stands as a stark, skeletal monument to an era of unbridled industrial ambition. It was once a vibrant capital of the Confederation’s northeastern industrial sector, its architecture a utilitarian marvel of concrete and steel, a Dieselpunk dream forged in the near Hyperborean ice. The city’s inhabitants worked the sprawling coal mines and factories, fueling the Confederation’s economic engine. For decades, it was a symbol of strength and prosperity, a testament to the belief that the will of civilization could tame any wilderness.
Beyond the Written Words, the Story Unfolds:
However, the prosperity was as fleeting as the short Hyperborean summer. A combination of resource depletion, shifts in geopolitical power, and a devastating economic downturn led to a slow, painful exodus. Infrastructure crumbled from neglect, pipes burst in the unending winters, and the promise of a better life evaporated into the cold northern air. The city died not in a sudden cataclysm, but in a quiet, agonizing decline. By the time the last resident departed, all that remained was a mausoleum of steel and concrete, a silent echo of a forgotten age, a vacuum of hope just waiting to be filled.
The ghost city of Ruḥā Ḥayyā stands as a silent mausoleum of steel and concrete, an echo of a forgotten age (Credit: Kenomitian)
The Asrestar, as documented by a recent entomological documentary, are far more than just “monstrous giant hornets.” They are a terrifying and highly-specialized form of life, perfectly adapted to the unforgiving environment. Their chitinous bodies, a mosaic of jagged black and sickly white, are covered in a dense, shimmering fuzz that insulates them against the frigid temperatures. Their wings, thin as Orgone-infused glass, produce a low, resonant thrum that now serves as the city’s mournful soundtrack. They have not simply moved into Ruḥā Ḥayyā; they have utterly consumed it, building grotesque, living nests within the hollowed-out carcasses of its buildings. These hives are not simple paper-mâché structures; they are intricate, crystalline spires woven from regurgitated polymer and a strange, bio-luminescent substance, their filaments winding through abandoned classrooms, up snow-filled stairwells, and across derelict factory floors. They have turned the brutalist apartment blocks into vertical necropoli of insectoid life, a chilling parallel to the Soviet-style ghost towns of our reference world.
Inside the “vertical necropoli” of Ruḥā Ḥayyā, where grotesque, crystalline hives now fill the hollowed-out carcasses of its buildings (Credit: Kenomitian)
“This isn’t an ecological niche; it’s a metaphysical event,” explained Dr. Yeen N’khu, a leading Rabbutan entomologist featured in the report. The Asrestar’s social structure and behavior appear to be a perfect reflection of the despair that preceded them. Their frantic, aggressive efficiency, the lack of any apparent leisure or rest, and their relentless expansion into new territory seem to embody a kind of biological hopelessness. Their existence is a stark contrast to other forms of feral life that might have moved into the abandoned town. While a polar bear might seek shelter in a vacant building, the Asrestar don’t simply use the city—they become the city. Their very being is a testament to the death of the human spirit in that place. The documentary’s use of advanced low-noise drones provided unprecedented close-up footage, revealing a level of horrifying detail—the ceaseless, humming activity, the crystalline honeycombs, and the sheer scale of the swarm.
The metaphysical influence on the city is unmistakable and forms the core of the investigation. Spectral and thermal imaging captured by the documentary’s team revealed powerful Prosopon signatures concentrated around the Asrestar nests. These aren’t the chaotic, wild magics of a rogue sorcerer, but the deep, foundational power that speaks of a higher, ancient authority. Yhoundeh, the Titanide of Despair, watches the region with great interest. The abandonment of Ruḥā Ḥayyā created a feast for her, a spiritual vacuum ripe for her influence. The Asrestar are now understood not merely as creatures under her thrall, but as a direct, physical manifestation of her cruel will. They are a living, buzzing tether, connecting the desolate plane of the Titanide’s domain to the material world of Kenoma, bringing her despair to a biological form.
The Asrestar are not mere creatures but a living, buzzing tether, connecting the desolate plane of the Titanide Yhoundeh to the material world (Credit: Kenomitian)
The documentary’s most unsettling interviews were with the Electi, Yhoundeh’s priesthood, whose interpretation of the events casts a chilling light on the nature of religion. An anonymous Archmage of the priesthood, speaking from a location veiled by blinding white light illusions, provided a theological framework for the ecological horror. “The Asrestar are a divine gift, a blessing upon this world,” the Archmage intoned, his voice resonating with a cold, unwavering conviction. “They are the holy instruments of Our Lady Yhoundeh, sent to cleanse the world of the false idols of hope and progress. Ruḥā Ḥayyā was a wound of civilized pride, a festering abscess on the flesh of Kenoma. Yhoundeh has not destroyed it; she has repurposed it, sanctified it with despair. Her klironomia, the Asrestar, now tend to the sacred rot and chaos.” The priesthood’s dogma frames this ecological takeover as a righteous act of piety, a necessary return to a state of enlightened despair that stands in opposition to the world’s other belief systems.
An Archmage of Yhoundeh’s priesthood, speaking from a location veiled by illusions, casts a chilling light on the theological framework of the swarm (Credit: Kenomitian)
The situation in Ruḥā Ḥayyā also presents a profound geopolitical challenge for the Confederation of Abbā də Rabbūṯā. The region, while remote, is not insignificant, and the presence of a supernatural ecological force presents a new kind of security threat. The documentary revealed a discreet military observation post on the city’s perimeter, where a small unit of heavily-equipped soldiers monitors the Asrestar swarm. Their presence suggests a policy of cautious containment rather than a direct, military confrontation. A high-ranking official within the Confederation’s military was quoted off-record: “This is not a war we can fight with tanks and spells. You cannot fight despair with a bullet. We observe, we study, we contain. The hornets are a symptom of a larger, cosmic force, and confronting it head-on could have…unforeseen consequences.” This cautious approach underscores the complex power dynamics within the Confederation, where different factions likely have their own interpretations and agendas for dealing with the otherworldly threat, from studying it to simply containing it and hoping it does not spread.
Cautious containment: A discreet military observation post monitors the Asrestar swarm, highlighting the geopolitical challenge for the Confederation (Credit: Kenomitian)
The colonization of Ruḥā Ḥayyā by the Asrestar swarm forces a stark re-evaluation of thera-controlled territories and the influence of cosmic forces. It is no longer just a question of economics or natural disasters, but of the very nature of existence on Kenoma. What happens when a civilization’s decline creates a literal void of despair that is eagerly filled by the will of a Titanide? The existence of the Asrestar is a grim warning to all nations and megacorporations, a reminder that the world’s untamed places are not simply empty—they are waiting. The long-term implications for the Confederation and the broader world remain to be seen, but the documentary’s final images—a vast, frozen cityscape buzzing with the sound of a thousand monstrous hornets—serve as a chilling testament to the terrifying and beautiful power of a world where nature, magic, and despair are one.
Notes extrated from Kenomitian Compendium
[1] Confederation of Abbā də Rabbūṯā
A glympse into Confederation of Abbā də Rabbūṯā (Credit: Kenomitian). Learn more.
[2] Cruel Yhoundeh: Titanide of Despair, Oblivion’s Claws, Chains of Fatalism, Screaming Void, Artist of Detachment and Gourmand of Despair. Progenitor of Typhons, who guide mortals through “voices from the sky”. She rules in her palace of The Enlightened Wastes, from a cold sun illuminating a gray sky.
Yhoundeh: Titanide of Despair (Credit: Kenomitian). Learn more.
