Chapter Text
What’s the point of going on? He had nothing left here, nothing worth holding onto. He laid there on that beach for sometime, wallowing in his own self pity. He had to do something, he couldn’t just lay here and do nothing. It hurt too much to bare, he couldn’t go on. He knew what had to be done. He’d seen the ghosts the Radiance had made of the dead. Maybe, somewhere, there was a place where he and Quirrel could meet again. It was far fetched, but it was the last scrap of hope he could muster. All that was left was to decide how to go about this. He could impale himself on a nail. Perhaps Quirrels, that was sort of poetic in a sense. But also kind of messed up, Quirrel wouldn’t be happy about it, that’s for sure. He could drown himself, though he wasn’t 100% sure he could actually drown. And to be honest he didn’t really want to find out, he had felt like he was suffocating for the last few hours. That really only left the spike pits.
No, he wanted to do it here, beside the Blue Lake, it felt right that he should spend his final moments here. Surprisingly talking about how you will kill yourself was kind of sobering. He had stopped crying for starters, and he was no longer shaking on the ground. Instead he felt something familiar, emptiness. It was like his very soul had left his body, and left him a hollow shell. He just felt numb. And yes he quite understood the dramatic irony of it all, how this is what he was supposed to be. But the Pale King had failed. He was a living, breathing bug with emotions and goals. Or at least he was. He was hollow now, with nowhere left to go. Perhaps it’s best to go back to the nail idea. Yes his own nail, that seemed like the most logical action to take. During his battle he had seen the Hollow Knight use his own nail in a similar fashion.
Ghost took out his nail and held it sideways, inspecting the piece. His nail was a masterwork, made from the finest ore one could get, crafted to perfection. One clean jab and that would be the end of it. Staring down at the nail he didn’t want to move, his body went rigid. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to do it, it’s just his body didn’t. The problem is he knew what it was like getting stabbed and it wasn’t fun. As he stood there, rigid, doubt began to creep into the back of his head. The biggest problem being if Quirrel was willing to end it all, without him. Maybe he didn’t really care for Ghost. Maybe he was just a passing friend. But then, that didn’t change much, did it? He was still without any sort of goal in life. And sure maybe he could leave Hollownest and find work outside in the far away lands Quirrel had talked about, but he would never be truly happy. Not anymore, not without Quirrel.
There was no point sticking around here any longer. He lifted the nail in front of him and turned the point towards his chest, both arms outstretched in front of him on the hilt of the blade. He took one big inhale of breath to try and calm the thundering beat in his chest. But once more he found himself unable to move, perhaps he was just too scared. So he thought about his lost friend, the good times they had spent together once more, and their final meeting. By the lake. Then his mind turns to the more fantastical. He imagines seeing Quirrel again, in some plain far away from here.
And with that he thrusted inwards, his body exploded in pain. The nail penetrated his small body and came out the other end. He crumpled to the floor, black blood pouring out of his chest wound. He couldn’t think straight or really do much of anything, he had already lost too much blood. His vision began to blur. It was like falling backwards out of his head as the Blue Lake faded from view.
And with that the life faded from the small vessel. Lost among the piles of bodies in the dying kingdom of Hollownest.