Looking through a window in the roof, down at the floor of a Cretan temple, down at the bee splayed on the floor, in front of an out of frame alter. The bee listens to the unintelligible transmission of prophecy; the priestess echoes proto-words spoken a thousand years before by a muffled buffalo as it sank into the quicksand at La Brea tarpits, somewhere near modern day Los Angeles.
Her soul had fragmented, and become many separate bees.