Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the Abyss, a void egg is dredged up from a void sea. Is the egg made of sea, or is the sea made of egg? The egg is not sentient, so it does not know anything, but I imagine it would scream if it could.

Within this void egg on the shore of the void sea is a tiny void being. It's trying its hardest to sleep, but it's not having a very good go of it. The silence of the Abyss is stifling, cutting through its tired mind like a knife.

Where even was it anyways?

Your name is…

You can't remember your name. (It's so cold here…)

That should be concerning, but your mind is doing its level best to lull you back to sleep despite the terrible cold silence of… wherever you are. (Your head is so quiet. Where is everyone?)

How did you get here???

...Where is here? (Wherever here is, it's too cold and too quiet and you want out .) You try your best to remember where you were (Who you were?) before this, but your mind has latched onto the idea of wanting out and is refusing to let go.

Fine, fine, just quiet down.

You begin to wiggle and squirm, your limbs feeling heavy and weird and wrong somehow. It's not pleasant, so the sooner you can get out of here, the better.

Your clenched fist strikes a hard surface (Ow!) and you quickly turn around as best as you can to face said surface. Placing both (small, unfamiliar) hands flat against the wall(?) you find it to be smooth and round (It absorbs too much light. It's like the world has been photoshopped away, leaving only you behind. (Who are you?)). You can't make out any sort of opening anywhere, and at a loss for what to do, you strike the wall again.

It gives with a startling crack, and you flinch backwards at the sound and the sudden burst of light. (What…?) The negligent draft coming from outside the egg (Is it an egg? Why were you in an egg?) brings to your attention the fact that you are very, very damp (Ew!). But escape is in your grasp, so you punch again at the fragile wall, widening the hole.

Soon enough you fall out of your egg (Definitely an egg. (Humans don't have eggs! (Are you not human anymore? (One thing at a time.)))) and onto the smooth, cold floor below. You shiver uncontrollably (Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold!!!!!) and curl up on the floor. (You are cold and wet and scared and too-small and you just came out of an egg what the fuck you want to cry but it's not working why isn't it working your eyes feel so big and open and your head feels so heavy what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck -)

Breathe in. Breathe out. In four. Hold two. Out four.

Okay. (You try to say this out loud, and the realization that you have no mouth nearly sends you into a panic again.) Take stock. Breathe.

Your head feels weird and heavy. You have no mouth, and you can vaguely feel some odd protrusion (horns?) scraping against the smooth stone of the floor, weighing you down. Your body is really small, and really soft. You don't… seem.. to have toes anymore. (Thank god you don't have a foot fetish.) You have three fingers made of smooth, segmented chitin (Good for rubbing together, bad for picking. (Bad for picking is good for you; everyone (Did they miss you?) was always telling you to stop and drop that particular stim.)) and one soft thumb. Your eyes feel weird and large, but you can still open and close them. If you strain hard enough, you can move your… face?... but not by much.

You shift a bit, and realize that you seem to have been born (what the fuck what the fuck, you're never aware when you're reborn, it's supposed to take years for you to remember!) wearing clothing. What little you know of your body is starting to paint an eerily familiar picture, and you're not sure how to feel about that.

The tattered remains of your system seem to have fallen away completely; your head is completely silent, no curious chirps from the many siblings that once populated its depths. Hesitantly, you reach your mind out…

Something flares to life and responds . Somehow, you can tell that the rush of affection and wonder comes from outside you. (It hits you like a truck. You've never felt so loved before.) Carefully, you answer back (You're more than used to sharing your thoughts with your headmates.) with your hesitation, fear, and confusion. Immediately, the unknown entity (Entities, even from here you can tell that they are many.) responds back with comfort and care (It would bring you to tears if you could cry.)

You're starting to think you know what's going on here, and you're equal parts excited and terrified. You rise to stand with shaky legs (Your head is off-balanced, with more horns(?!) on one side than the other. You have to lean over  to one side in order to compensate. (Before (You don't like thinking about before, but you dislike thinking about now even more.), you wouldn't have been strong enough to do that.)) and turn to face your egg. The surface is a reflective, glossy black, and in it you can see…

Oh fuck.

(The tiny (intact) face of the Broken Vessel stares back at you.)

Chapter Text

What a weird fucking day this is.

You… are having a hard time processing this.

You're in the body of a vessel now (The Broken Vessel, no less!), you can't remember your name, you are breathing through your sides , and you can feel the thousands of tiny mental voices of your (Former headmates, except nobody that you recognize is here, so maybe not.) siblings whispering through your mind in concern.

Wait. Siblings. (They've all been born. Are you too late?)

You look around, your vision obscured by eggshells that are so, so much larger than you. (Of course you had to be reborn even shorter, because the universe hates you.) Using the cracks as leverage, you carefully climb to the top of one of the larger eggs near you. (Big enough to hold at least three vessels, maybe more. (Four small voices chirp in your head in response. Of course, this must be their egg. (How the fuck did the White Lady get these massive fucking things out?))) The Void Sea is alluringly calm and also completely dark. Where is the lighthouse keeper?

As you look up at the towering pale lighthouse, your siblings respond easily. ' The light doesn't move anymore,' they whisper. 'Their shell broke, and we haven't seen their shade anywhere.' Your heart breaks into two at their innocence, and you decide that now is not the best time to inform them that other bugs don't have shades. At least, not usually.

You're startled out of your thoughts by the reminder that you're too late. The shade's quiet voices prod at you with worry, but you're a bit busy being angry here. Of course you'd end up too late to actually help anyone! (Useless, stupid, (Don't blame yourself.), too little, too late-)

You feel something cold at the top of your head (mask) and swivel around, meeting the soft glow of two bright, pale eyes. The shade (Barely even a hatchling, so small, so vulnerable- (Dead.)) stares back at you, projecting love and concern in a voice much louder than the others (They're much closer to you, after all.)

'Sibling (new, scared) okay?' Their words are less words and more a disorganized jumble of concepts, emotions, and ideas, but they get the point across anyways. Still shaking slightly, you pull the small shade into your arms as best as you can, projecting careful reassurance back to them.

'Am okay, (little, vulnerable) sibling.' Without the buffer of a voice, your thoughts come through uncensored, and you can feel the tiny shade puff up in anger. Your shoulders shake in silent laughter, projecting love and happiness back. 'Teasing (laughter, jokes). Sibling (loved, protected) have name (gift, reference to self)?'

You knew the answer would be no, and the shade (Two curved horns facing one straight middle horn. (You're getting really tired of referring to them as 'the shade'.)) shakes their head. 'Name? Self? Gift?' (Oh boy.)

It takes you a long time to explain the concept of a gift, and even longer to explain the concept of self (You promised to explain the notes of pity (And anger.) in your thoughts later.), but it finally gets done, your sibling (All of your siblings, really. Thank god for having a vague hivemind. What one hears, they all hear. (It's comforting, somehow, to be so connected.)) seeming to shake in excitement. 'Name (self-gift) gift? Sibling (youngest, smartest) give name!'

Your eyes curve upwards in an instinctual approximation of a smile. (You fight to keep the sadness out of your thoughts.) 'Okay! Sibling (loved, affectionate, protected) name (important, self)…' You think for a bit, and then look back at their horns. It reminds you of that weird tower from the Lord of the Rings (You've never seen that movie.), so maybe…? 'Spire (watcher, tower, sorry, outside, cool name).'

Spire (Their name is a large and awkward thing to send through the hivemind, taking careful concentration to actually shape the thought into a word. Any other names you gave would need to be easier to send.) notices the bits of guilt in your thoughts, letting a bit of concern (And acceptance that now is not the best time, when you send that back.) leak into their thoughts. However, that is quickly replaced by a searing, overwhelming happiness that rolls over the hivemind like a tidal wave. 'Spire! Spire! Am named Spire! Sibling (happy, smart, caring) give name Spire!'

You not-smile again, squatting in place as a means of expressing your excitement. (You fight the urge to flap your hands, you have enough weird stims already.) A cursory glance around reveals groups of other shades dancing around joyfully, swirling through the air like swarms of inky black fish. (You love them. (You've only known your siblings for (Half an hour? Ten minutes?) a short amount of time, but if anything happened to them (Something already did.) you'd kill everyone in the room (Except them.) and then yourself.)) Little Spire spins around in the air and then turns back to you, curiosity surfacing. 'Sibling (smart, admired!) have name (precious gift)?'

Your heart melts. If you could die of cute, you would. (Except that would mean that you'd leave them alone, and you didn't want to do that.) (Wait, you don't remember your name. (Uhh…)) 'Me (confused, self)…? Not remember name. (frustrated).'

Spire makes a low humming sound (You (By nature of being a vessel, or maybe just because you're a bug) are definitely the only one that can hear that, it's so much lower than anything you could have heard before.) and their eyes narrow. 'Will name (thinking, important gift) sibling… Loved!'

That's it. You're dead. You start flapping your hands excitedly (It's not like they have any concept of weird, or like squatting like you're making juice is any less weird.) and nod so fast that you nearly make yourself dizzy, scooping Spire up into a hug. 'Spire (adored, sweet, kind, caring) give good name (best!)! Love name, love name!'

Your siblings begin their happy fish dance once more, and the hivemind clamours with joy and love, groups of siblings whispering names (They are precious gifts of selfhood, and you're so, so happy they have them.) to one another. You still don't know where you are, or how you got here, but for a moment, all is perfect down in the Abyss.

(You were going to beat the shit out of the Pale King when you found him. (And then, after beating him for revenge, you would beat him again (Into shape.) to take care of your siblings properly and give them the happy life they deserve.))

Chapter Text

You've spent a few (Days? Maybe days. You didn't have a good sense of time even when you had the sun to keep track of it with. [It's not like this body needed to sleep or eat. {Thank god.}] down here with your siblings. You've settled down nicely. [Maybe a proper introduction is in order.])

A young vessel stands in the Abyss. It hasn't been here for very long, and even if it had, it's certainly nowhere near its birthday. Maybe. (It doesn't remember when its birthday was Before, and it definitely doesn't know what day it is now.)

Your name is Loved, and you think that you are very much deserving of that name (No thanks to your depression, which seems to have followed you into this body, if only a little bit. [It's certainly not as bad as Before.]) You once had a variety of interests, but since none of them exist anymore, you've adapted them into stories that you will sometimes tell your siblings.

Speaking of, you have a large number of siblings. (You don't know the exact number, and you've never been good at estimates. You just know that there are a lot of them.) You share the Abyss with them, and even though all of your voices were stolen by your sire, the Pale King, you all communicate through a sort of pseudo-hivemind that allows you to share thoughts and emotions with one another easily. (It is, without a doubt, the best way to communicate.) Your siblings are a bit naive and easy to impress, and the names they choose for themselves are weird and often get lost in translation, but you love them anyways, and wouldn't trade them for the world.

What will you do now?

...

Anyways, that's enough of that.

You and your siblings have explored a good portion of the right side of the Abyss, even though you staunchly refuse to go past the tiny pools of Void that lead to the left half and towards the exit. Nuh-uh, no way. (You had no interest in stepping on your sibling's broken shells, even if they attached no value to them. [Your siblings often asked why you didn't leave your shell and join them. You weren't quite sure of the answer yet, {It's not like you enjoyed having a body when you were human.} so you tell them that you don't want to give it up before you can get it back. {Explaining benches, like everything else, is a long and tiring process. (Your siblings are so curious and eager to learn that you suck it up anyways, your heart overflowing with pride every time they learn something new.)}])

You've thought of burying the broken shells, but you're not sure if you could even go over there, much less touch them, without getting sick (Ew augh no nope nope not thinking about that, nope! [You don't even have a mouth, how would you--?] NOPE! [Your eyes--?] NOPE!! ). Besides, it wasn't like the thing about them not caring about their shells had stopped being true or anything.

Anyways, it'd been some amount of time before you woke up (Were born?) here, and you'd best not put off asking the questions you need to ask any longer. Ghost, the Pale King, the other escaped vessels…

First up was Ghost.

You reached out to the rest of the hivemind (It felt like some mental limb reaching back into a writhing foggy gateway in the back of your head. You were used to visualizing your mental interactions this way, it helped you focus. [Any spare bit of focus you could dredge up was valuable, especially since Adderal didn't exactly exist here.]) and made a soft, mental humming noise. This caught your sibling's attention, so you posed your question.

'Sibling-named-Ghost (sister [strong, protector] give name in future, still has shell, curved horns, two points) here? Gone where?' You ask, along with a few quick flashes of the tiny vessel. You were the only sibling still in their shell here, so you know that the others had to have left. 'Left already with Sibling-in-Greenpath and--?' You cut yourself off mid-thought, remembering with a quick stab of guilt that you were the Broken Vessel (What happened to them? Usually when you were reborn, you'd gain a mind independent to that life before remembering the earlier ones. You worry about them often. [You ignore the guilt you feel from the knowledge that they are certainly dead, and you killed them.]).

Regardless, your siblings call out with recognition when you show them the two hatchlings. A chorus of voices returns that Ghost left long ago with the Beloved-Kinglight. (That's what they called the Pale King. [Wait, that isn't right. Ghost didn't make it.])

You project your confusion openly, showing them the Hollow Knight being taken by the Pale King and Ghost falling back into the dark. 'Wait (confusion, uncertain, question, wrong), Sibling-named-Ghost left with Beloved (lies)-Kinglight (hated, pale, abandoned)? Where Sibling-named-Hallow?'

At the mention of the Hollow Knight, you get hit with a rush of what can only be described as "mixed feelings". Some voices send whispers of admiration, others hope, or fear, or anger. You're a bit too overwhelmed to try and pick apart and acknowledge each of your sibling's individual responses, instead focusing on the flashes of memory each of them send you.

(There is a tiny vessel [Was that Hallow? The horns were right, but their body looked weird, uncannily muscular in the dim light] standing beside the door to the Abyss, holding an odd-looking gray club in their tiny, unshaking hands. [You ache with the desire to hold them, protect them, make the danger go away.] The door beside them disappears in a flash of pale light that makes them flinch away. [You hold your breath at the sight of the Pale King, unsure what your {Tiny, vulnerable.} sibling would do when faced with him. {Don't get hurt, please.}])

(But then, to your surprise, Hallow rushes forward, bringing the club down on the Pale King's tail with a mighty "Thwack! " . [Holy shit , go Hallow, go! Kick his ass!] That swing alone fills you with shocked pride, but then the little vessel brought the club back up and around, this time slamming it into the Wyrm's face! You can see the Pale King's mask crack and crumple in on itself, can hear the vile sound of his chitin shattering. Before either of you can react, Hallow sheathes their club and breaks off running, [Holy shit, they're fast. ] leaving the Pale King in a groaning heap on the floor.)

You process the memory with a soundless gasp, your hands starting to shake and flap without your permission (Stop that, bad hands.). 'That was Sibling-named-Hallow? They (strong, fast, surprising, proud) escaped?!'

All of your siblings respond with agreement, and you need to sit down for a second, holy shit. You can feel adrenaline rushing through your body as if the memory was your own, as if you were the one hitting the Pale King in the face. (That would bring you immense satisfaction, but you know you'd never leave your siblings behind. [You need to find the others.])

After a bit of this, one small presence (You recognize them [Even telepathically, they don't have true "voices", but each thought carries with it a distinct, indescribable feeling that identifies its origin.] as Little-like-Flower. [Two thick horns that go back and curl tightly in on themselves, with another sharp horn like a cut branch protruding perpendicularly to the main ones.] [Names don't translate well in the communication network made of small flashes of thought and feeling. "Little-like-Flower" is the best translation you have for what they are usually "called" in informal situations, flashes of soft petals {You taught them about those!}, quiet whispers, wind and delicate things.]) pipes up in a soft whisper.

'Sibling-in-Greenpath (kind, curious, scared) left to look for Big-sibling-Hallow (admired like Loved) and Sibling-named-Ghost (worry, far away) when we couldn't feel them both (worried, scared, hurt?) anymore.'

That surprises you. (Not that they left to look for Hallow and Ghost [Were they okay?] [The Greenpath Vessel {You need to find something else to call them} is so brave... {You are so proud.}]), but that they had found a way out.) 'Sibling (worry, found dead in future, shade not returned?) got out (kingdom, good friends, loved friends)? Where? How?'

Little-like-Flower quiets (You could say that they wilted, ha!) at this (Were you too loud in your desperation to find the exit?). 'Exit on other side (Loved-sibling hated place).'

Oh. That explains their hesitance. (You love them so much.) You respond with quiet acceptance, needing a bit of time to think. You really, really don't want to go into the corpse room (Maybe you'll get Abyss Shriek and the Shade Cloak on the way? [Could you get Abyss Shriek without Howling Wraiths?]), but at the same time, you didn't want to stay here forever (There was nothing to do here, you'd get sick of spending all your time with your siblings [Thanks, 'rona.], and besides, they deserved the chance to see the rest of Hallownest. [Find the Mask Maker, fix the shells of the ones who wanted their shells fixed, and show them all to the nearest hot spring.])

You reach out with the weird metaphysical mind-limb, stretching your mind out over Hallownest to look for the missing vessels. It didn't take you long to find GPV. (As you're calling them for now.) Their mind is vague, but alive, somewhere up and to the… Left? (You don't have a very good sense of direction. [Or really any spatial perception. {Really, you don't have much perception at all. (At least you weren't nearsighted anymore, small blessings.) You never really paid much attention to the world around you.}]) Their thoughts are too far away to feel, but you send them a wave of love and affection anyways, assuring them that I'm coming, I'm on my way, you won't be alone anymore.

However, you can't feel Ghost or Hallow anywhere. (Worry ached in your chest at this. Were they already dead? Had they been sealed? Had the Pale King killed them? Where were their shades?) You want to curl up and fret with worry and let your siblings comfort you, but you can't. You won't. (You have to bring them home, let them know that they are loved.)

By now, the rest of the shades were talking amongst themselves, wondering what you were going to do. (A wave of fondness rushed through you at their curiosity. [You'd failed the siblings you had before, but you swore you'd do right by these ones.]) 'Little-like-Flower.' You call, and their head jerks to attention. 'Will go.'

A feeling of surprise ripples through your siblings, several voices of concern (You recognize them as Light-finder, Loud-Mess-Maker, and Sharp-like-Spikes, among others [Your memory is a lot better in this body. It's almost scary.]) pipe up, worried about how you'd react to the other room (They didn't understand your revulsion, but they loved you, they cared, and they worried for your health.) 'Will be okay. You all here (safe, fine, okay). Will not like (guilt, anger), but want to find Sibling-in-Greenpath more.'

At this, they quiet down, and the hivemind wobbles with the realization that you were leaving. (Your heart aches.) 'Will return soon, with sibling (worried, found dead) and will show you all outside (big world, pretty things, wonder, hope, curiosity, love, friends). Promise (sacred, will keep always). '

Your siblings seem to accept this, but that doesn't stop them from descending on you with all the force of a Vengeful Spirit. (Can you even use Soul? You want to. [You hate missing pun opportunities, but you hate repeating words when you're not excited even more.]) The inky black tide of Void sweeps you up in a million tiny hugs and you laugh softly, hugging as many shades as you can back.

'Will find Sibling-named-Ghost (worried, not hollow, hurting, sealed?). Will find Sibling-named-Hallow (hated?, hunted?, scared?). Will find Sibling-in-Greenpath (alive, safe, okay). Will return (determined, stubborn, promised).'

'Promise.'

Chapter Text

The first thing on the list of things to do (An actual list that you kept in your head. Usually you would doubt your ability to remember it, but your memories were stronger and stayed clearer now.) would be to go and get the Shade Cloak and Abyss Shriek. The Void Sea didn't scream and thrash at you (You hadn't hurt it like the Kinglight had.), so making it across and to the statue was an easy, if boring, trip.

The statue was so, so much larger than it had looked in the game. You found the Abyss and the Ancient Basin comforting (It was home.), but this was very, very much not. A few curious shades trailed behind you (Light-finder was among them, always curious and up for adventure, along with One-who-Sleeps [Teasingly nicknamed "Sea-drinker" after they'd tripped and fallen into the Void Sea] [You hadn't slept yet. Wouldn't sleep. {You were too scared of Her, even if none of your siblings had encountered Her when they dreamt.}] and World-Weaver [They'd picked up on your habit of telling stories quickly, and soon began telling stories of their own.]), but they all stayed a cautious distance away from the beastly statue. You couldn't blame them.

You breathed in and whispered a quick prayer to the Lord of Shades (Were they sleeping? Dead? Yet to be born ?), and then jumped into the pool of Void it held. (coLD COLD COLD CO LD COLD COLD COLD--)

Your siblings flinched away from the loud shrieks you threw into the hivemind ( Distantly, you registered World-Weaver fleeing.), but you were too busy flailing about and shrieking to care. Chilling, cold, freezing, all of those words fell dreadfully short of describing the terrible cold that settled deep into your flesh and was quickly travelling up it. It was like being dunked into a bath of dry ice, except it kept rising,(You hate the cold, make it stop, make it stop. ) and it's only through sheer willpower ( You're not doing this again!) that you don't throw yourself out of the bowl. You shake and writhe as the Void travels up your arms and reaches your mask and you are suffocating, suffocating, you can't breathe, help, it's getting hi gher its reaching your eyes help ple ase I can’t sEE--

Just as quickly as it started , it ended; the piercing Void settling back into the bowl and returning to a comfortable temperature. What remained on your body settled and sank within you, condensing into a metaphysical ball in your midsection that radiated a deep, lonely chill.

Shaking, shuddering, shivering, you fell out of the bowl and onto the floor. ( Thankfully, nothing cracked. It didn't even hurt. [Distantly, you remember the Knight being impervious to fall damage.]) You were quickly covered in a swarming mass of shades, curling desperately into their comforting warmth. They sent comfort, worry, care, affection, as many positive and warm feelings as they could directly into your mind.

You wanted to cry for so, so many reasons, but you couldn't, (Fuck the Pale King, and not like Herrah had.) so instead you just curled into your sibling's arms, squeezed your eyes shut tight, and shook.

( No matter how much shivering you did, the ball curled tight within you ensured that you stayed cold.) 

Eventually, the shivering stopped, and you got used to the ever-present chill seeping into your body from within. You could feel the hivemind still simmering with worry (And slight curiosity. Many siblings noticed that you'd gotten much colder to the touch, but they tried to keep those thoughts to themselves, and you were grateful) when you stood up, but you gently reassured them all. 'It's okay, (still scared but can handle [can't stop]) am fine now (cold awful, hate, want to punch).'

The mass of Void lifted off of you and separated back into distinct shades, wide pale eyes watching you with worry regardless. ( You'd die for them.)

'Need get one more thing (strong spell, powerful, protect self) in shell room (worried, scared, strong, can handle).' Your siblings acknowledged this and floated away, a few staying behind. Notably, Spire (nicknamed First-named [They wore this, too, with pride] for ease of communication) stuck close to you, reassuring you through the connection. 'Will stay with Loved-sibling (worried, will protect), Loved not alone (promise).'

You couldn't help but crinkle your eyes into a smile at their loyalty, pulling them into a tight squeeze. 'Thank you, First-named-Spire. (genuine, can't do alone, grateful)'

They nuzzle up to you and then you both share a determined nod, stepping out of the room. ( You'd need to test Shade Dash at some point, b ut for now, you didn't want to even try interacting with the chilling presence settled in your gut.) The journey back was just as boring as before . (You're pretty sure there used to be a Shade Gate there, but there clearly isn't one now.) You float across the Void Sea and quickly traverse the metal platform passing by the long-dead lighthouse and its keeper's corpse. (You feel sorry for them, but what's in the past is in the past.)

Ahead of you lies the path leading into the main chamber of the Abyss. You can tell you're shivering slightly, and the cold has nothing to do with it. With all the gentleness of a spring breeze, Spire wraps a Void tendril around one of your larger horns. Your shaking stills as you look up at them, eyes wide open.

'You can do it (hope, believe, trust, proud, strong sibling).' The rest of the siblings readily echo the encouragement. (You're going to cry.)

You take a shaky breath (You don't need to, but it grounds you, and reminds you of a time before even the last life you had. [This isn't your first reincarnation.] [ As a side note, you had been slightly disconcerted to learn that you breathed through six holes in your sides where there would be sets of arms on other bugs.]) and step forward. Once, then twice, and then you were slowly walking towards the central chamber. Throughout the whole walk, Spire never left your side.

Eventually, you reach the last pool before the tunnel opens up. You can't help but take another breath to steady yourself, taking another one of Spire's tendrils into your hand. They squeeze gently and you squeeze back.

You close your eyes.

Take a deep breath.

And begin walking forward into your Sibling's graveyard.

Chapter Text

Stepping into the main cavern is like stepping into a nightmare. (It's a small blessing that there was no fire or Nightmare Essence involved.) Empty shells littered the ground, attached to broken bodies in various states of decay. ( You have never been so glad to be lacking in a nose. [You want to feel bad about making so many jokes about your sibling's corpses, {Their corpses !} but you know that if you didn't, you'd break down not-crying and you really didn't want to end up like that again today. { You can't remember the last time you slept ( You count "today" as the time between sleeping and waking). Your memories of your last life are fuzzy, and you're still too scared to sleep.}])

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, looking up at the platforms leading to the entrance in order to avoid looking at the shells. (Some of them had gaping holes in their heads or middles, too clean to be from the jagged spikes, fatal wounds clearly made by a nail. You're horrified, disgusted, furious - every adjective you can think of - at the Pale King.) It's dizzyingly high up, (Why does your body have to be so short? Wasn't it bad enough being below five foot last time?) the way further up marked by platforms. (Thankfully free of shadow creepers.)

You take another breath and look back down again. (The corpse below you belonged to a sibling you'd cheekily named "Life-ender" for their short temper. Their body is covered in large, jagged tears made from falling into the gleaming, pale spikes.) Spire reminds you that you need to move forward and you nod, carefully moving Life-ender's corpse out of your path.

You close your eyes and spread your feet apart a bit, and then take off running across the chamber. Every crack (punching straight through the old, brittle chitin of their shells and snapping horns clean off at the base) and squelch (easily tearing into and through the rotted, fleshy mixture of Void, Soul, and hemolymph of their bodies) makes you want to stop and flinch, but you don’t stop, not even when you hear an eerie crunch, (one of the few remaining intact eggshells shattering) not even when you nearly trip on a pair of long, thin horns. (Eerily similar to Ghost's, but not quite. You can't tell who they belonged to, and you don't stop to think on it.)

Soon enough, you slide to a stop in the hallway leading to the Abyss Shriek room. You hold your arms tight and shake so hard you think your bones might shake right out of your body . You want to scream, to cry, to wail and mourn in bitter anguish for the crimes their- no, your Sire committed . (This is your life now, these are your Siblings, he is your sire, and their hurt is your hurt. You have more memories than you usually would, but that didn't stop the change of identity.) You hold in the urge, tamping down on the writhing of your Void. You need to wait until you get there.

You can feel Spire getting closer, but you need that grief and anger with you to even attempt to scream. (Would it work? [No, no, don't think like that. Magic works on belief and intent, you need to believe. {"Yeah, I know! I gotta believe!" chimes a distant memory that makes you smile slightly despite yourself.}]) You open your eyes and speedwalk across the hallway, watching the hallway open up into a wide hall.

This room always creeped you out in the game, so much you only visited it twice (Even with your habit of just vibing in the Abyss after getting the Voidheart); once to get Abyss Shriek, and another time when you were checking the Abyss for secret rooms. Something about the shrieking faces always rubbed you the wrong way , and that hadn't changed now.

Don't get distracted, now! You clambered onto the platform, your mind easily wandering back over to the crumbling of chitin beneath your feet. Your Void began humming with anguish again, your hands clenched into fists as you reached deep within yourself. (You hate him, the Pale One broke them, stole their lives all for a sacrifice, a doomed sacrifice , it would all be for nothing .)

A bit above the cold ball was a different ball, one that seemed to lack in any temperature at all, pitted with thousands of tiny holes like the surface of the moon. You grabbed it tightly, focusing your anguish - your rage - into it. You let them coil, pool, writhe around one another and then you yanked it upwards and outwards, and you screamed .

A shrieking burst of Soul and Void exploded from your mask just as Spire arrived, and they curled into a flinch. You make your grief known, the screams echoing through the hivemind as you were once again engulfed in freezing, liquid Void. You were prepared for it this time , but the cold still hurt like thousands of needles piercing into your soft flesh. The pain only made you scream louder, and once more, the Void sank within you to join the pre-existing ball.

You fell to the ground, shaking violently as Spire rushed over to you. 'I'm okay (needed scream, stronger now, sorry loud hurt). First-named okay?' They nod quickly and nuzzle up under your mask, smooth Void rumbling in their best imitation of a purr. ( You told them about cats in a story a while ago, and many of your sibling's took to imitating the animal's behaviour . [So cute…!]) You calmed immediately and rumbled back at them through the void, making sure they knew of your gratitude. (You also make sure to send an apology to the rest of your siblings; the screaming had undoubtedly hurt their ears. [ That's something you had a lot of practice with apologizing for. ] You assure them there will be no more screams , guiltily basking in their comfort. [Do you even deserve it?])

You let yourself breathe. The deed was done. Little-like-Flowers would come in to show you the exit soon ( They'd insisted on escorting you.) , and then you'd leave the Abyss. You couldn't help your fear as you stepped back out of the room, no longer immediately panicking at the sight of the corpses. (You let your eyes fall out of focus, the details and forner identities of the shells fading into shapeless fuzz.)

Part of you doesn't want to leave. The Abyss is home , the Abyss is safe . But the shades deserve the chance to know a real life outside of this dead, empty place. You wanted to give them the life the Pale King had stolen from them. ( You will give them back the life that the Pale King had stolen.)

Little-like-Flowers arrived far, far too soon, and you waved goodbye to Spire, eyes focusing on your surroundings again. They led you up the platforms patiently, ( You weren't used to exercise, even if this body didn't get tired or need to breathe . You fell several times, and the squish-crack noise of you falling onto your Sibling's corpses was one you were very, very eager to forget.)

Finally, you made it up to Little-like-Flowers. They direct your eyes up to see a fucking huge gaping hole in the cavern wall. (The Lifeblood cavern! Of course! You feel a bit stupid for not thinking of that earlier.) The inside of the cavern (You're sure there's some fancy term for it, but Google didn't exist here [You took a moment to mourn the internet. {Realizing that you'd never be able to listen to your favourite songs again was a surprisingly deep hit; music had been such a big part of that life. (They couldn't sing then , so of course the universe had to be cruel and take their voice away entirely this time.)}], so "cavern" was the best you could do.) is dark, but not as dark as the cut-out nothing of the Void Sea. This darkness has a sense of warmth to it, your sensitive eyes easily able to pick out the multitude of colours hidden in its depths.

You turn to Little-like-Flowers and open your arms for a hug. ( They'd always been a bit iffy about touch.) To your surprise, they all but jump into your arms, squeezing the air out of your vestigial lungs with every bit of strength they have. It's only a moment before you're returning the hug, burying your face into their shoulder.

'Ghost-Who-Always-Comes-Back (sibling, come home, all safe). Will come back . Love you all. (protect siblings, loved siblings, will keep safe, protect, always, never hurt again)'

Slowly, Little-like-Flowers detaches from you, waving goodbye. You wave back and give the Abyssal floor below you a final look, smiling fondly at the sight of thousands of pairs of tiny eyes waving back to you.

'Goodbye. See you soon (best wishes, hope, love, stay safe)!'

You turn away from your siblings and walk forward into the enormous cavern. Whatever challenges Hallownest had for you, you would face them, and you would win.

Chapter Text

This is possibly the longest hallway you've ever walked through. (You're so bored!)

Your eyes can easily pick apart the minute differences in colour and light that signal the presence of stalactites or stalagmites or the occasional pit of spikes. It's all just flat ground and spiky things.

After a few minutes (Maybe? You can still hear your siblings loud and clear, [They're just as unimpressed by this tunnel as you are.] so you can't be that far from the Abyss.) of walking, the boredom finally wins and you twinge in annoyance, trying to focus on the cold pit in your stomach as you're walking. (If you nearly fall into spikes a few times, nobody has to know.)

Your mind tries to wander away (Would Quirrel be there? [When even are you?] What about Hornet?), but you quickly reel it back in. You have to practice with Shade Dash eventually, so it might as well as be here, where there's nothing to see or attack you.

Focusing on the cold pit, you experimentally attempt to wiggle it around a bit. To your surprise, it works, but you immediately overbalance and fall over. (Ow. [Your horns don't have a lot of nerves in them on their own, but falling on them makes your head spin and ring in a decidedly unpleasant way that always means a migraine might be coming on.]) You shove yourself back up, wobble a bit, and finally stand up fully. (You were tempted to cut one of these stupid things off.) Shaking the weird pit didn't do anything except make you dizzy, so it's probably safe to say that that's not how you activate Shade Dash.

You turn to a long, flat stretch of cave and focus on the cold ball of Void once more. (Maybe…?) On a whim, you try to throw it up and outwards like you did to scream and- ohholyshitthosearetentacles . (Really, what did you expect?)

It takes you a few seconds of measured breathing to calm down again after your back had just fucking exploded into a writhing mess of tentacles. That could be useful, but it wasn't Shade Dash!

You continue experimenting for a while as you walk. (Focusing on the pit covers your main body in a thin layer of Void. [You did the same thing to the ball of Soul {This covered your mask in a similar layer of Soul.} and realized that you were just focusing. {You didn't know what use there was in focusing Void, but you were always open to surprises.}] You tried pushing it forward and just ended up overbalancing again, except this time you fell on your face. After a while of this, you stopped thinking about what you were doing and just internally screamed at it. [Your void rippled weirdly, the way that the muscles in your leg would occasionally wiggle for no reason Before, but nothing else.]) Eventually, you'd learned how to briefly turn invulnerable (Squishing it.), and it was a start, at least. (Maybe the Mothwing Cloak was needed to dash? [There would be no corpse to rob if you could help it, so you'd need to buy one or blackmail Hornet.])

After this, you let your thoughts wander back to the NPCs (They could respond for real now!) you'd met in-game. You were especially anxious to meet Quirrel. You hadn't ever bothered to hide your squish on him, after all. If you can get out of this without killing the Dreamers, (Even Lurien, snotty simp that he is.) you will. (Even if ascending the Pantheons would be absolute hell .)

What about Hornet? Would she try to kill you? (You hope not. She's your big sister now, and fighting your big sister doesn't sound fun. [You don't even know how to fight!]) You shudder and put thoughts of Hornet aside.

Slowly, as the comforting mental weight of your siblings gets farther and farther away, your thoughts wander to Her. You're going to have to sleep eventually. (Would She be a mindless fount of anger, unwilling to listen? [Would She be a hurting Goddess-Mother, Her children killed and converted by an invading force who thought he knew best?]) You don't know how to think or feel, how to confront the massive fucking problem that is the Radiance.

(You'd rather not hurt anyone if you can. [Even the Pale King.])

The voices of your siblings are far away now, and you'd been walking for a long, long time now. You don't like being alone, and now that you've experienced the hivemind (Can you really be closer with someone than to hear their thoughts and have them hear yours?) the loneliness only feels all the more sharp.

You're cold, tired, lonely, and sore. You know you'd feel better after some sleep, but (You weren't eager to get a facefull of concentrated, searing Light anytime soon.) you're scared. Hesitantly, you sit down against a wall, leaning your left side against a large boulder. (It was nearly orgasmic to finally stop compensating for your horns. Your body didn't need sleep or rest or food, but it could still hurt. [The steady ache of your neck stood as testament to that.])

You can't help but fidget around nervously. Sure enough, your fingers are too smooth and hard to pick at, (You don't have skin anymore, how wack is that?) but that doesn't stop you from twisting them around one another in an anxious, writhing dance. You're starting to wish that you'd slept earlier, close enough to still feel your siblings' comforting presence in your mind. ( You wouldn't be able to forgive yourself if you got Infected and hurt them. ) But that is neither here nor now.

You exhaled through your sides, (Briefly, you entertained the idea of using the odd flaps to mimic a flute. You'd try that in the morning.) trying your best to relax against the smooth, cold rock. You were very much used to being wrapped in several comforting layers of very fluffy blankets, (Definitely blackmailing Hornet when you meet her.) so needless to say, the cool smooth stone isn't very comfortable.

'Beggars can't be choosers,' You whisper to only yourself, mulling over the words. They were true, but you hated them. Generally, you just didn't like idioms; too many times your Mother had loved to use them against you Before. (You thank whatever higher beings are listening [Unn? Maybe the Radiance, since you're about to sleep…] that you don't have to eat.)

You stopped yourself; there was no point in mulling over the past. If anyone had been reborn here with you, you'd find them soon enough. (That didn't stop you from missing them like a sharp stone of longing lodged into your chest.)

…

Cold and alone, cloak still stained with your sibling's rotted hemolymph, you fall into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

You are very, very pissed when you wake up. (Vaguely, you notice that the ever-present pain between your shoulders has disappeared, so that helps, at least.) Looking around, it isn't very hard to see that you're in the Dream Realm. Glowing motes of Essence float up and away in the air around you, white and orange clouds giving the landscape a hazy appearance.

You sit up, waiting for the Light to make an appearance. Really, if She was going to try to seduce you into joining the dark side, (The Light side? [The part of your brain that cares about morals asks if Her side is really wrong, and you bury your face in your hands. {You know enough about Star Wars to know that that is not the point.}]) She could have at least given you a proper bed. Stone was shit for sleeping, and here you were met with, big surprise, more stone. At least this stone was in a pretty shade of maroon instead of the desaturated blue-gray (Usually, those colours meant you were near the Crossroads. Had you really travelled that far?) of the cavern or the plain gray of the Abyss, which made it marginally more interesting, but it was still stone.

Really, it'd be a beautiful landscape if it didn't look exactly like the rooms where you (brutally murdered them while they couldn't fight back) killed the Dreamers. 

The Old Light still wasn't showing, (Rude.) so you started fucking around with one of the feathers growing out of the stone. But speak of the devil and She (Rude?) will appear. The clouds, the very air twisted and curled in on itself. Bright dream Essence condensed where the clouds met, forming into a blinding, searing light.

When your vision clears, you stare warily up into Her eyes. Like this, you can kind of see why Higher Beings were generally well-respected beyond just their powers. Something about Her fills you with awe, and you can tell that it comes from you and not Her.

Speaking of the Radiance, she is eyeing you with the same suspicion you'd been eyeing Her with. The very air carries a vague impression of Her thoughts, and right now Her thoughts are filled with suspicion, scorn, and wary trust.

You narrow your eyes and attempt to use the same telepathy you're used to with Her. 'Good eve, Radiance, Goddess-Queen of Light and Dreams.' You're unsure of Her exact title, so hopefully that carries enough respect not to piss Her off.

Immediately, the air turns and reflects Her surprise. (Thank god [Thank Her?], She can hear you.) She speaks to you, and Her voice is… an experience. It sounds like thousands of voices layered together at once, but unlike your sibling's whispers, Her voice is full of honey and wind chimes and clouds.

"Little voidling. You have far better manners than the others of your kind I've met. Are you aware that you can speak here?" You immediately perk up at Her words, forgetting to carefully inflect your words in your desperation. (You also ignore the comment about being able to speak. You're fine, thanks.) You're so close to finding at least one of them already! 'Light seen sibling? (loved, worried, missing)' You send Her images of Hallow (If She is here, Ghost hasn't been sealed yet.), and GPV, and Her face...

Falls. (That's concerning.) The feathery plants around you wilt, and the air fills with sadness, pity, guilt, regret. (That's really concerning.) 'Sibling okay..? (scared scared scared scared scared scared please)'

You don't even bother to hide your fear, looking up at her with wide eyes. If this is a ploy to manipulate you into following Her, it's working. You are down, hook, line, and sinker. (They're all you have in this life, you can't lose them.) You search for Her eyes for some sign of hope, but find nothing. (No!)

"The littlest vessel you speak of is perfectly fine. They live in Greenpath with one they call their father, hiding from the Wyrm in a grove of thorns. They have named themself Brush." Your shoulders slump as you sigh in relief. (Sheo will take good care of them.) But She continues speaking, and your fear quickly resurfaces.

"But the one you call Hallow…" (No.)

She looks down, and despite not having a nose, the air around you is tinged with the sickly sweet scent of rot, and you start to shake. The Radiance takes a deep breath, and moves to wrap Her wings around you. You want to flinch away but you're too busy hyperventilating and panicking (nononononono-) and then you're being picked up off the ground and held in Her soft wings (You want to fight, you want to struggle, you want to flee [She killed your family {Did she kill Hallow too?}] but you aren't [Why is she holding you]) and your breathing calms slightly despite yourself.

"She named herself Wasp. She was brilliantly smart, and terribly mad." (She? Wasp? Was?) Her feathers bristle as She continues, mumbling something spiteful under Her breath, (Something about Deepnest, and flesh.) but Her words are fading in and out of clarity and you just want to know, please. "She was planning to overthrow the Wyrm. But he saw her plans and met her at his carcass with an army. Her sister," (Sister? Hornet?) "barely escaped with her life. And Wasp…" (please, no .)

"The Wyrm's knights killed her without mercy."

No. No, no, no, no, no. (The Radiance is still speaking, something about shades and defects, but you aren't listening anymore.)

She had a name. She had pronouns, she had--, (You'd never even gotten to meet her.) she... (She never had a chance. No wonder you couldn't feel her shade, who'd know better how to destroy one than the one who made them?)

Your Void boils and bubbles and writhes in your chest, pain and hurt and grief filling you up past bursting and choking you, (You can't even cry for her. [The Pale King is taking everything from you.]) you weren't there, you weren't there… (Another broken body at the bottom of the Abyss, alone, rotting, shattered, abandoned, dead, gone. [You will reunite her with her siblings in death, you know the Pale King wouldn't bother.])

Your mask cracks open as you force a mouth into existence, (You will mourn for her!) and you tilt your head back and wail , ripping the Dream Realm above you apart and forcing you to awaken.

 .

(You failed before you'd even begun, and Wasp is dead because of you.)

Chapter Text

You wake up sore and weary, your entire body heavy with grief. You feel rested, sure, but you're still so tired .

You rub your eyes, exhaling with a quiet shudder. The fluttering of your airflaps reminds you of the idea you had before you fell asleep. (Do not think, do not feel, do not hope. The Hollow Knight is dead.) Might as well as do something to take your mind off of it.

You take in air and close all of your flaps, beginning to experiment. (Keeping two of the same row open just made a weird, airy noise, not really a note and more of a sigh. You figured out how to make a basic musical scale, and by holding your flaps nearly shut and exhaling, you could create a sort of rattly hissing noise.)

You tire of the music quickly, still feeling weighed down by grief. But you have to keep going. You have to save Ghost, if nothing else. (You can't fail them too.)

Slowly, you stand to your feet and turn towards the breeze leaking in from some distant exit. You brace yourself against the wall with one hand, the other twirling around your odd, filmy cloak. (It's attached. It feels kind of like a fingernail, but far more flexible. It takes a huge amount of effort not to tear it between your fingers.)

One foot, then the other. You trudged on forwards, looking at the tunnel in front of you as it began to lighten. Shades of soft blue and cyan painted the cavern, but it was a long time before you found the odd stems they came from.

You look up at the lifeblood plant. It's a strange and alien sight against the slightly damp stone of the cave, runny lifeblood kept in place by a thick membrane. Carefully, you traced a finger up and along the stem, eyes crinkling fondly. A miracle, contained by such fragile protection… You look at the cave ahead of you, illuminated by a trail of cyan stems. Dark blue stone of the Crossroads, copious amounts of Lifeblood… Did the Abyss lead out to Joni's Repose? (It'd make sense. [Is Joni still alive? You hope so. She seemed nice. {One of your headmates loved her, but you don't have any time to mourn.}])

You continue trudging forward, passing by more lightly glowing plants. They become more and more numerous, and then you start seeing cyan grass. A butterfly passes by you (It's so bright that you flinch away. Your eyes are sensitive , damnit!), then another, and then another, until you can't take a step without seeing at least one. (It's so bright . You're not getting out of this without a migraine.)

You start running, half-closing your eyes and raising a hand in front of them (Left hand, so you didn't fall again.) in order to keep as much light out of your eyes as possible. Eventually, the cave opens up (Ow.) and…

(Damn, and you thought Joni's Repose was beautiful in the game? ) Even blinded as you are, the cavern spread out before you is a gorgeous portrait of serenity, soft teals and cyans (You wish you had a better word than cyan .) painted across the cavern like a portrait. You lower your hand in awe, allowing your eyes to clear…

Your breath stops, flaps stuttering shut in shock.

Joni's Repose is in ruins. Every single plant had been destroyed. The reason that the cavern looked like a painting was because of the Lifeblood messily smeared on every wall. Butterflies, flowers, fragile membrane, they all were driven into the ground and crushed by what you can only assume were footsteps. (What about Joni?)

…

You turn your head slowly, agonizingly slowly to the right. You're shaking all over (Can you handle more death? [You don't think so.]) You force your eyes to stay open, if she's… (You would give her the honour of a witness.)

You stare down at the plinth in horror. The Blue Child's body lay against it, a horrible gash cutting through her side. The plinth is painted with pale (The word disgusts you.) green hemolymph, stained with bright blue lifeblood. (You couldn't save her either.)

You drop to your knees, your flaps strained and clamped shut with your attempts to cry. Slowly, (You're shaking all over, why are you always shaking? [Why can't you save anyone?]) you reach out to touch her cheek (Why is she so cold?). The beetle's eyes are dull and hazy, and you carefully pull them closed.

(Nobody ever had a chance. Not your siblings in the Abyss, not Wasp who escaped, not the Radiance with her holy light, not Joni with her miracles and pacifism.)

(Nobody stands a chance, not even you.)

You spent a long time there, next to Joni's body. So long that you were sure that you would've died if you were mortal. (But everyone is so achingly mortal in the end.)

You're not sure what inspires you to get up. Maybe it's the wind outside, dulled by the winding path it had to take to get here, but still cold enough to make you shiver. Maybe it's a movement from Brush (Dear, sweet, precious Brush) down in Greenpath, stirring you out of your numb haze.

Maybe it's just the thought that there is still at least one person left to save.

Either way, once again, you rise to your feet. You wobble, but you've grown used to accounting for your horns now, so it takes far less time and effort than usual. (That damned ache settles back in between your shoulder blades, and it exhausts you even further. You want to sit back down, rot away here in the Lifeblood's grave, but…)

You can't stop. You close your eyes, focusing on your breaths. (Does lifeblood have a higher being? It should, right? [Is that really what all of this death was for? Worship? {You already know the answer, but you're very good at being in denial.}])

You breathe in, and become aware of the fact that the room around you is inundated with Soul. (Doubtless, it was Joni's. There are no other traces of hemolymph in the room.)

You breathe out, and become aware of another layer of power beneath. (It is weak, and it is dying, but even knowing that it's there soothes the ache curled around your spine.)

You breathe in, and make a wish. 'Please.' ( You don't know what to wish [pray] for. So much has gone wrong...) 'Please. Fix this. Give me a way to fix this, please.'

You wait, and wait, and wait some more. Just when you're thinking of giving up and leaving, (Higher beings sure do like making you wait, huh?) you hear something. A voice (Or is it voices? You aren't sure how many people are singing, [Or what gender they would be {Or even if the singing is coming from inside your head or not}] all you know is that someone [Definitely a someone, not a something.] is singing.) singing a soft melody. It has no words (It's all breathy vowel sounds and smooth consonants like an acapella group.), but you understand the meaning. (You're getting really tired of higher beings existing in a way that's literally beyond your human (bug?) brain's feeble processing ability [But then, you guess that's kinda the point.])

It calls out to something deep inside you, filling your entire being (Not just your vessel body, it goes beyond that, so very far beyond that. [Your current vessel body, the phantom remnants of your human body, mind, headspace, every aspect of your existence overflowing with that song.]) with a divine resonance ( Oh, so that's what the Godseeker kept going on about. [Yeah, okay, you kinda get the hype now.]) that somehow manages to always feel distinctly blue no matter what sense is processing it.

The Deity of Life Themself (Their gender is far more complicated than you can even attempt to grasp with your limited time in a way that you very sharply envy.) sings to you in Their dying throes, (Wait, dying? [Life is dying? {Is everything here going to die? (Wait, shit, They're still singing, idiot, get out of your head and listen and maybe you'll find out.)}]) telling you Their story (You're going to need to unpack that later.) and giving you a mission (Wait, a mission? Like, a prophet mission? [Holy shit that's so cool. {Wait, you don't want to get tangled up in this whole divine messenger bullshit, that's how people get killed!}]): You would gather the last fading remnants of Their power (Wait, you? What makes them think they can trust you to do this? You can't even trust yourself to take your meds consistently [Not a problem anymore!], how are you supposed to responsibly use the power of Life itse - Oh wait, They're still talking.) and become Their vessel (You feel like you should be insulted by that. [Bug racism?]) until They can regain enough power (read: worshippers) to exist independently again. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, right? (You don't have a choice, do you? [Even if you were to refuse, They're dying, {Oh yeah that does kinda explain why They're trusting some random stranger with Their power, huh?} They don't have time to wait for some other random shmuck to wander into this clearly forbidden {Incredibly remote and hidden by a large amount of spikes} area, They need you.])

In a great example of you making an impulse decision that probably won't end very well for you down the line, (What does being a vessel [Bug racism?] for a god even mean?) you wordlessly, (Everything is kinda wordlessly with you though, isn't it?) accept your (duty? mission?) responsibility.

Shit starts getting real very quickly. The song gets louder, louder, and louder, (Ow.) and the chaotic mesh of Soul and Lifeblood and Essence lifts into the air (Like a gas, or a drop of paint in water [But upside-down]) (Wait, you can see it. [It's indigo, {What you imagine that that 'true shade' of indigo someone saw in a hallucination once and never saw again would look likem} cyan, azure, every shade of blue and more at once. {Somehow managing not to hurt your brain or look ugly}] Is seeing this shit a part of temporarily having life powers?) and begins to swirl around you.

Something is definitely happening to Joni, but you're not sure what it is. (You'd better not be god-absorbing her hemolymph, that's nasty.) The vortex moves slowly at first but rapidly picks up speed. The colours mix and blend and dilute and change so quickly that before you can even process the difference, (It's so loud.) you're overbalancing and falling ass over teakettle to the ground and your horns slam into the stone and your head is ringing in a way that has nothing to do with the song and you are in so much pain and the energy (Beautiful, divine energy.) pounces on you and suddenly it's rushing into the hole (There's a hole?!) in your head and it's so fucking LOUD--

You pass out on the floor and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

When you awaken, the first thing that you notice is the blissful lack of pain.

The second thing you notice is that you're never not in pain (The ache from correcting your balance, the beginnings of a migraine from how bright it is in Joni's Repose, the assorted achy and sore spots from sleeping [Sitting up and propped against a boulder] in a cave, etc. }), which means that something is definitely wrong.

You sit up and-- whoA, whoa--! (That is the sound of your internal monologue getting cut off by an odd [Bouncy? {Oh hell no!}] weight on your head pulling you right back to the ground.)

You blink. Breathe in. (In four.) Blink. (Hold two.) Breathe out. (Out four) Blink. (Hold two.)

Step one, take stock of what you can immediately feel: Everything below your head is exactly the way you left it when you passed out, except, y'know, not hurting. Your head feels… weird, but the sensation in your horns is too dull for you to tell exactly how on your own.

Step two, take stock of everything out of the ordinary with your hands: Thankfully, the "out of the ordinary" part means you don't have to deal with the nightmare that would be touching your toes, (Hooves…? Claws…?) instead being able to focus on your much more accessible mask. You reach up with your right hand and immediately run into the problem (literally, you touch it); A huge, membranous bubble protruding from your head.

As soon as the Life Deity gets better, you're going to kill them again.

"You're an odd one, aren't you?" What. "Quite ungrateful, too. What did you expect me to do, leave my precious new vessel to die from all of the Void leaking out of its head?" (How come falling on a sharp rock cracked your head open but not falling to the floor from halfway up the Abyss? [Spikes. The answer is spikes. {Wait, can They hear my thoughts?])

"Yes I can, dearie~! By the way, I'm not actually the deity of 'Life'. I have domain over lifeblood, healing, medicine, and miracles." (Their vibes are rancid.) Well, then, what are you supposed to call Them? Because there is no way you're using 'Deity of Lifeblood, Medicine, Focus, and Miracles' every time you think about Them. (Unless They want to have Their title shortened to DoLMFM. [Dolmfim… {One of the few advantages of having a mouth was your ability to do verbal stims. True shame, that.}])

"What a rude little interloper you are, barging into my territory with your frightfully loud lives, insulting my 'vibes', and then going off on a tangent in the middle of your sentence! Hmph. You may call me Joni, little shade." If you had actual eyes, (How do Vessel eyes even work? [If they're going to have a problem with you going off on tangents mid-sentence, they're gonna have a lot of adjusting to do, because the ADHD train waits for nobody, {Caw caw motherfuckers!} choo-choo, bitches.] [Wait, Joni is… Joni's name. They'd better not go around pretending to be you when all this shit is said and done.]) you'd roll them.

"What's a train?" Oh boy. You're gonna be here for a while, aren't you?

Chapter Text

Y'know, down in the still air of the Abyss, you'd started to forget how much you hated wind. Good thing the Howling Cliffs were here to remind you of that fact! "You're just miserably unprepared for this, aren't you?" Shut up. "Pathetic."

You're getting really tired of being cold and miserable and then having to run from Vengeflies while being cold and miserable, and then having to run from Vengeflies while being cold and miserable and having the Higher Being manifestation of intrusive thoughts "I already told you my domains, you insolent little--" being a little bitch in your non-existent vessel ears. Vengeflies may be pathetic in game, but they're a lot less pathetic and a lot more pants-shittingly terrifying "Truly pathetic." when you have no nail and no idea how to use Soul without being in extreme distress. Which, well, you are, but that's besides the point. "I could always teach you how to use Soul~." No. "Fine, cut your nose off to spite your face." Bugs don't even have noses! (Joni reminds you uncomfortably of your Mother from Before, with her scorn and harsh words and idioms. [She also reminds you of Zote.])

You hate this place. The only thing that'd kept you going through these damned high-jumps and long-drops (There's no fall damage, but your head still rings like a fucking bell. [You are never going to be able to play Silksong, and that pisses you off even more.] The huge fucking Lifeblood bubble in your head prevents you from feeling pain. "You're welcome~!" [There is scientific evidence proving that the inability to feel pain often leads to you getting hurt a lot more. "Ungrateful little boofly."]) was pure, burning spite.

After a while of falling off the same damned platform, you give up on it and search for another way to get up. Unfortunately, something catches your eye, and your brain immediately has to pounce on it like a tiger ("What's a tiger?") on a pumpkin full of raw meat. You turn to look at the completely normal-looking wall, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that it's full of cracks. "Dumbass." It takes you a few more seconds to realize that you still dont have a fucking nail.

You exhale as harshly as you can manage in frustration, flapping so hard that your arms turn into little black blurs beneath the all-consuming force of your rage. "This is stupid. You are stupid. There are corpses everywhere, just get--"

You sit in front of the wall. Okay. "Fine." Before, you'd been an avid DnD player. (Or at least, you tried to be.) You knew that most problems could be solved with the creative application of a baseball ("Baseball?") bat. (Watching Escape the Night was a special kind of torture.) What a coincidence, that was exactly what you need right now! So… what here would make a good substitution for a baseball bat?

Lazily, you scan your surroundings. Something long, thick, and hard… (You allow yourself to snicker. "Your sense of humour is vile.") Your eyes settle on a Vengefly, and you have a downright dastardly idea.

"Oh my me, you dumb bitch." (Joni is learning human slang quickly. Good for them.)

You pop a squat behind a relatively decent sized boulder, widening your stance a bit to account for both your left horns (AKA the big ones) and the Lifeblood bubble, and keeping your stance stable as possible to prevent your horns (or the Lifeblood bubble) from causing you to fall on your ass. (Falling on your ass is counterproductive to hunting.) Thankfully, Joni's been staying quiet since you started planning this, so at least you don't have to deal with mentally swatting her away like a fly. "I could always change that." Don't.

Your gaze is locked on a relatively large Vengefly - nowhere near big enough to be considered a King, but big enough to work for its intended purpose. Lucky for you, Tiktiks are easy to kill if you can manage to flip them upside down. (You learned the hard way that they tend to get really spiky if you don't. Ow. "I warned you.")

Said Tiktik was currently very, very dead, and your target was finally noticing the bait you had so graciously prepared for it. It turned around to eat the free meal, and that would be its last mistake! (Internally, you allow yourself an evil cackle. [You pointedly ignore Joni's responding mental eyeroll.])

You edge around the boulder and approach your prey. Slowly… carefully… you're so close…

Your weird hoof-foot catches on a pebble and you freeze. It'd be hilarious if there wasn't now an extremely angry Vengefly looking right at you. It screeches at you, a war cry that fills you with bone-deep, pants-shitting terror.

You turn tail and run like the little bitch you are!

"Did you know that Vengeflies are very determined? Once they find prey, they don't stop pursuing it until one of them is dead or better prey shows up." You do not enjoy Joni's Hunter's Journal readout, as you are currently trying to run from one of the aforementioned bugs, one that's easily the size of your head! "Quiet, whelp, I'm getting to it! This is bad for you, but also for it, because that means that it’s fucking stupid." Okay, then what? "Turn around quickly and grab it before it can react." But the Lifeblood bubble? Your center of gravity? "Just do it!" Fine!

You take a deep breath for bravery, and turn on a dime (Geo?) to the right, keeping the lifeblood bubble in the center of the arc. You are going to fall, and you've accepted this, so you use the momentum to grab the startled vengefly in your grubby little claws. It is struggling, and it manages to cut your arm open when you both go crashing to the floor with a disgusting squelch . ( Ow! ) Wrestling against a huge flying ball of anger and snapping jaws is an… enlightening experience, but eventually, you manage to get one hand firmly on its head and the other on its body and you twist your hands and with a vile crack of chitin it is over!! (And the crowd goes wild!! "We did it!" That's how you play baseball, bitch!!)

You'd feel bad that you just killed something, - "You should!" (They helped!) - but you're currently too busy running around in circles with your kill held high above your head to care. You exhale with a loud, piercing screech of victory, filled with adrenaline and the satisfaction of the hunt!

After a few minutes of running around like a headless chicken, you finally calm down enough to only be awkwardly rocking back and forth on your weird bug feet. (It's still better than running around in circles with what are essentially weird bug scissors in your hands, at least?) It's also at this point that you realize that the wet pop-squelch noise you heard earlier was the Lifeblood bubble breaking open. "Don't worry, it grows back naturally." That's concerning. "No it's not?" Yes it is.

Unfortunately, they say what goes up must come down, both metaphorically and literally. You're so distracted by your internal slap-fight that you forget about your horns and lean too far back, gravity taking the opportunity to make you fall flat on your ass. (Shit.) Your kill goes flying, bouncing across the floor and skidding off the edge of one of this damned's place's namesake cliffs

( Shit .)

"...:)"

(Don't you colon parenthesis at me you little-) 

At least several hours later, you pull yourself back over the edge of the cliff. You are covered in dust and your mask is scuffed, but at least you've got the stupid corpse back in your hands. (I went to Hallownest and all that I got was this stupid corpse!)

(...Why did we do this again?)

"To break down that wall in the cliff face, for whatever reason."

(Oh. Right. )

Another twist and crack of chitin had the Vengefly's stupid head seperated from its stupid body, and you brandish your new baseball bat to a grand audience of one. (You hate being lonely, and you're not sure this is any better.) "The longer you go on, the less I am 'impressed by your willingness to swear at an actual Higher Being' and the more I am 'convinced that you are just stupid.'"

Your shoulders slump and you inspect your weapon, scanning the joints that make the mouth work with muted  curiosity. "You are disgustingly morbid." It's wicked sharp, (Oh yeah, you're still bleeding. [You look at your arm and realize that no, you are not still bleeding, because you are covered in Lifeblood.] Joni is 'looking' at you. [Fine , thank you. {How can you even look at me? You only exist in my head!}]) but repeatedly hitting rocks with it would dull it real quick. Well, there's no time like the present!

Some incredibly long amount of time spent doing the same tedious, repetitive action (About halfway through the wall, the Void-adrenaline wears off and you realize that you are carving into a wall with the severed head of a Vengefly. Your hands are covered in hemolymph and shards of chitin [Your body in general is covered in hemolymph, chitin, rotted tissues, Void, and Lifeblood, so you probably look batshit crazy, but it's not like anybody's going to find you out in the Howling Cliffs. {Besides Mato, and you're nowhere near his hut and Gorb's grave. (You think that's where they are.) Joni's comment about your sense of direction is ignored, as usual.}] and the poor bug's face has been completely caved in from your grip on it. You've already killed it, so you're not going to waste it by throwing it off the cliff, though. [Maybe you can jerry-rig up a nail? "You are terrible." Noted.]) later, the fragile wall finally gives in and crumbles. You're too tired to scream your victory again and just crawl into the hole, falling head over heels into an unnervingly long hallway. "Well, we've made it this far, keep going!"

You walk down the hallway, lazily observing your surroundings. (Goddamnit, of course you'd end up here. "Here?") Your shoulders slump with exhaustion in front of a stupidly tall pole. Not a pole, a lantern. "Ah. Here." (This kingdom isn't dead yet. You're in the mood to spit in the Pale Worm's face today, why not?)

"I can agree with the sentiment, but how do you even intend to summon the Nightmare Troupe?" Well, deeper in the room is the tattered remains of a lantern… Remains… You don't have the Dream Nail. "Oh my me, child--!" You're so tired. There's some cloth at the bottom of the lantern that looks really inviting right about now. "Do not." Fuck it. "Just because I said--!" You're tired, you're cold, you're going back to sleep. (Maybe you could bribe Radi into giving you the Dream Nail.) "Sigh."

You lean forward and let gravity do the rest of the work for you, flopping down onto the ruined lantern and passing out immediately.

Chapter Text

Y'know, you really should've expected this.

You are currently face-down on the floor of the Nightmare Realm (Identified by the overuse of red and the messy stitches [Currently digging into your hips in a way that confirms that yes, you can feel pain in the Nightmare Realm.] holding the floor together.), contemplating your life decisions. Joni is laughing (Doing the full Eternal Emilitia cackle.) somewhere off in the distance, (You have no idea why they're allowed in here.) Brumm is standing off to your left (Presumably watching you in the same melancholy way he does everything.), and the Troupe Master Himself is currently poking your back as you do your best impression of a corpse.

You don't want to be here.

You'd woken up expecting to be greeted by the Radiance, or Joni, (Although, there isn't much difference between a nightmare and being stuck in a dream with them.) or to just have the regular, garden-variety nightmares (Without the capital N) about normal things like running through an endless field of your sibling's corpses or watching the Pale King run Wasp through with his nail. Somehow, it had never occured to you that falling asleep right on top of the Nightmare Lantern would bring you to the Nightmare Realm! (What does an adorable genderless bug have to do to get a blanket around here?!)

Grimm had tried to open with a dramatic sequence:

(The Troupe Master would appear in a dazzling burst of fire mere feet away from the trembling mortal who'd trespassed into His realm, spreading His wings out when the fire reached its full height. He is a threat, and there would be no mistaking that. The room would fill with Nightmare Essence and the scent of fear, and the poor little trespasser would have no idea that these things were their doing!

"What business do you have in the Nightmare Realm, little bug?" He would hiss [Every 'k' and 'c' emphasized with a sharp click of His mandibles, each 's' hissed through razor sharp teeth!], leaning in just a bit too close and smiling just a bit too wide [Revealing just a few too many teeth to be friendly.] and then He would delight in the smell of their fear and the taste of their Nightmare Essence. [For make no mistake, the Nightmare King is a threat.)

But instead, He got about halfway through the 'appearing in a great burst of flame' part before He was interrupted by you falling face-forward onto the floor.

And now, here you are, in a room with two Higher Beings who definitely do not have your best interests in mind, trying to decide whether you should cry or groan in annoyance.

Now, it was inevitable that you'd meet the Nightmare's Heart and Its vessel at some point, (You'd been about to summon them before remembering that you don't have the Dream Nail.) but not like this! Meeting It in Its domain without being a part of the Ritual would be like serving your shell up on a platter already, but then Joni had to come with you, and you don't know how you've not already been killed (Or, kicked out of the dream, since dreams don't count as deaths.) for any one of the millions of transgressions you've already committed. But since you haven't been kicked out yet, it's probably best not to push your luck.

With an internal sigh, you pick yourself up off the floor, noticing immediately that your mask, while still broken, is not filled with Lifeblood. (That's a mixed bag. [Seriously, is it bug opium? "No!"]) It takes you a few wobbly seconds to compensate for this, and you can tell that you're still standing at an awkward angle . It'd be far more embarrassing if you didn't know that this is His realm, meaning that He has full control over your appearance and thus could fix it at any time. If He wants you to struggle, then you'll struggle, and you'll struggle with dignity.

You drop to an unsteady bow, stretching your mind out to meet His and being very, very, very careful with what you let through. 'Good eve (well-wishes) to the Nightmare's Heart (power, terror, flame unending) and Its vessel, Nightmare King and Troupe Master Grimm. (dance, pain)' (You really, really hope that you said His title right. You're gonna need to get a lesson on this shit at this rate.) 'My sincerest apologies (stupid mistake, oversight) for my disrespect. I did not predict that falling asleep on a Nightmare Lantern (soft fabric, warm light, safe nest) would lead me to the Nightmare Realm, as I had been digging for many hours beforehand. (tedious, mind weary, tools inadequate)' (You decide to leave out the part about Joni spending the entire time mocking and laughing at you.)

Speaking of Joni; 'I apologize for Our intrusion as well on the part of Joni, (intruder, guest?) Deity of Lifeblood, Medicine, Healing, and Miracles (Breath in dream, vivid blue). They are bound to me and I am bound to them as their vessel until the time comes that they may separate from me . (dying, pale light, trampled to dust), They had no part in this intrusion , and the fault lies with me. (apology, sincerity)' You are bullshitting (Not that you don't want to be respectful, but how the fuck do you even be respectful when you basically barged into His realm with another Higher Being in tow?!) so hard right now, so hopefully he buys it. (Hey wait, what does Joni even look like? You've never seen Them before-)

"And you won't, little boofly." You can't help but wince as they speak both out loud and in your mind. Rude. You're about to send a slew of insults right back at them, (and raise your eyes to see their form anyways) but you're interrupted by the Troupe Master doubling over, wheezing with mirth. (Oh yeah. You forgot about Him.)

He spends a while simply cackling, (So long that you feel awkward in a way that is definitely intentional.) and then straightens up, wiping a tear from His eye.

"Oh, little shadow, you mean to tell Me that you stumbled upon My realm on accident because you were looking for a soft place to sleep, and you brought with you a Higher Being with whom you share a relationship of mutual scorn and annoyance?" He leans in, (He actually leaves a bit of breathing room between your faces! You don't really need it, [You don't have a mouth or the need to breathe.] but you appreciate the gesture.) eyes glowing with sparkling Nightmare red.

"Yes." You answer in the most simple, honest-to-god-that’s-what-really-happened way that you can. No need to have Him think you're lying.

"Are you aware that I can read your thoughts while you're in My realm, voidling?" Crap. (You're getting really tired of Higher Beings reading your thoughts. [This gets a laugh out of Him, thankfully.])

"Hush, I wouldn't harm you," (Sounds fake but okay!) "at least, not if you shut up."

You have no idea how to shut off your mind, (You have one speed and that is "Yes".[If turning off your mind was a thing you could do, you'd be sealed up in the Black Egg Temple!]) but you're pretty sure it's best to try because Grimm is getting more and more annoyed by the second!

"You're quite... new to this world, aren't you? You have knowledge, yes, your string of lives precedes you. I'm sure you take much pride in them." (You do, but He doesn't have to call you out!) "But you have no... experience, am I correct? You are still a child." You know that He knows the answer to this already.

You guessed correctly, because He continues on with a laugh that's just slightly less menacing than it could be. (Jesus H Shitting Christ, this guy [The Troupe Master, you correct when His eyes narrow.] has good facial control. I guess that nothing is hard to learn when you have centuries to do it in, but still, damn.)

"I appreciate the flattery, voidling. My point is that I have something of an offer for you," Oh, god. (Oh, Him? Uncertain. [You manage to cut yourself off before you start complaining about the overabundance of gods here. {You don't want to deal with two of them in your head!}])

"Don't worry, don't worry. The Nightmare's Heart already has a vessel." He gestures to Himself. (You are reminded of five glowing robotic dancers. [They were your brothers too, once-]) "Listen. Child, have you forgotten about Our Ritual already?"

Oh. (You're so dumb. [You get to meet Grimmchild! Dear, sweet, precious Grimmchild!]) Yeah, you can work with that.

"You learn quickly. This Kingdom has yet to fall, and the flames of its Mightmares are dim and dull. Besides, between My Sister, Unn, the Pale King, the White Lady, and the new Being that just stole a large amount of Sister's thralls,"

(Wait, what? A new being? The Shade Lord?) "There are more than enough of Us in Hallownest already. And yes, a new Being. How curious, that even with your foreign knowledge, you don't know of Their existence. They aren't the Lord of Shades your mind whispers of, no, but We aren't quite certain who They are either. My sister has no influence over Their territory, and I don't give a damn about Them either way." (Damn.)

"They have nothing to do with my proposal, interesting as They may be. No, what I ask of you is different. Though We have no need of Hallownest, the Ritual must continue anyways. I will aid you in your quest," (Quest? Wait, what even is my objective here? …Shit, He's still talking.) "And in return, when your journey is complete, you shall complete the Ritual in a kingdom we do have use for. Do we have a deal, little shade?"

You have think about it for a bit. The way the deal is worded implies that you don't have a choice over which kingdom it takes place in, (Although, how many kingdoms would be dying at the same time anyways?) and you have no idea what "aid" means, but… You do know the terms of the Ritual. (But you don't know if you can die and come back.)

'Esteemed Troupe Master (dance of flame and fire, fear and tattered tents), I will accept your terms only if we may reach a compromise (both of us, together, to benefit); when it comes time to meet in battle, I wish to be given ample time and opportunity to rehearse. (shade unknown, unseen, no second chances, no mistakes)"

You're getting better at controlling your Void speech, at least. Sending actual words still takes a lot of effort, (Your formal speech is incredibly slow.) much less controlling the intent and meaning behind them, but hey, at least you can . (How are you going to communicate outside of dreams and your own mind? [You need to learn sign language. {Oh, is that what He means by "aid"?}])

Grimm nods and the part of you that longs to be praised swells up with warmth. "The Ritual would almost surely fail if the summoner were to die. Don't you worry, the dance of fire and shadow is one which will be carefully choreographed." You nod back, staring into His darkened eyes with determination. (But there are no save points here! [You think.])

"Then you will gain a new sibling," (Wait, sibling?) "When their time comes."

Wait, wait, wait. You raise up a hand (Is that disrespectful? [Who cares you gotta ask now if you don't know you'll die!]) for him to wait as you scramble to organize your frenzied thoughts. What comes out is still tangled with feeling and intent, but at least it has grammar, that's what matters, right?

'My sibling (void, shade, pale sire)? How would the Grimmchild (flame-eater, chaos-bringer, deeply loved) be my sibling (shared sire? shared void? shared dam?) (confusion, intent, meaning? [hope] )' You look up at Him with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage with eyes that reflect no light, tilting your head just slightly to the side.

Grimm laughs, fixing you with a smile that has too few teeth to be threatening and eyes that are too dim to cause fear. "You're a bit young to be my type, shadeling, but it's still best to establish some sort of familial connection. I imagine you know why?"

'Protect the child, (own child, family-child, deep love) complete the Ritual. (child needed, dancer needed, healthy and strong)' You answer, and he nods once more. (Acknowledgement!)

"You're quite fond of your siblings, down in the darkness past Our sight. They are the only ones you know you can trust, so they are the most important people in this world for you. Thus, if the Child becomes your sibling…?"

'Protect child with life. ( mine , fiercely loved, void instinct, wyrm instinct)' (Knowing the answer and liking the answer are two different things.)

"Precisely, little voidling." He gives you that same dangerously sharp smile (His eyes burn.) and extends a thin (Too thin.) hand out for you to take.

Without a moment's hesitation, you take it, and the contract of flame is sealed.

You wake up feeling warm, prickly, and full of dread. (And disappointment.)

Chapter Text

Despite the creeping sense of dread, you're feeling pretty good, all things considered.

Grimm had managed to block out Joni's screeches while they were in His realm, and as long as you didn't focus on them too hard, the effect seemed to remai- "YOU STUPID MORTAL, HOW DUMB CAN YOU BE?!"

Damnit. "TAKING A DEAL WITH THE NIGHTMARE KING?! I SHOULD FILL YOUR SHELL FULL WITH MY BLOOD UNTIL IT BREAKS FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!"

You wince at the projected mental image of you popping like a balloon. (Some people would find that very attractive. [Some people who like living, {Like you.} find that disgusting.]) No thanks. Joni screeches Their displeasure in your head, but lucky you, the Lifeblood keeps the migraines away.

"You'd do well to remember my blessing--" (Wait, like the charm?) "What? Nevermind. My blessing is the only thing keeping you alive, little shadow." You heave a mental sigh and nod, (The Lifeblood wiggles disgustingly. [It's like trying to balance a bowl of Jell-O on your head.]) and reach out with your mind.

Brush is still in Greenpath below, and you can feel them a bit more clearly now that you're closer. You can feel the barest impression of their thoughts, (They are happy. Good.) and send them your message once more: 'sibling safe, sibling missed (love, affection, thousands of tiny shades watching with wide-open eyes)'

They become a bit more aware of you, but don't respond. That's alright, though, because it's kind of hard to communicate like this. You have no idea how much of your message actually went through.

"Almost none." Joni helpfully chirps, despite not knowing shit. "Rude." Lifeblood is their domain, not Knowledge (Definitely not Knowledge. "Why you--!" ) or Void.

Anyways, Brush's signal helps you find your way to Greenpath, which is good, because your little mental map of Hallownest is a bit, er… Outdated, shall we say.

The change between "Howling Cliffs" and "Greenpath" isn't nearly as startling as it is in game, with the atmosphere turning from green to blue on a dime. Not even Unn's presence (When did you start being able to sense Higher Beings? Was it when you met Grimm? Joni?) is as startling as you thought it'd be, although that might just be because She's weakened.

"Ah, Unn and I were friends once." You raise an eyebrow at that. Once? There is no way you're walking into this without knowing what happened. "Hush, voidling. (Why are They so weird with names? It's not like They don't know yours.) "Hush. Unn and I drifted apart after a falling out, if you can't tell from how close my former territory was to Hers. It was nothing so drastic that She would threaten your life over it.”

You think that's full of bullshit, but you don't think that at Them, so They give you a bit of peace, thankfully. This is very, very good for you, because you barely remember Greenpath except that it was full of acid and thorns and terrible things. The Radiance had twisted Unn's lands into something far more violent than they'd been before.

"Oh no, voidling, the acid is all of Unn's design." You flinch away at this and sigh. Time to do some platforming, or something. Hopefully it’s ‘or something’. You don't actually know how fast this bubble refills -- "It takes one day to fill fully." Jegus Christopher, (You laugh when Joni startles at the image of a gray, fleshy thing crucified and dripping red.) that's a long time -- and you aren't too keen on testing it.

How many masks would it refill anyways? How many do you currently have? (Joni is acting like you've grown a second head. [With all these bug drugs, {You cackle internally at their screech} you might.] ) Maybe you should check back on your Soul meter…

"Why don't you just go back around through Dirtmouth if you dislike navigating Greenpath so much? You're the one who lit the Nightmare Lantern, after all, you should go see Its Vessel if you're so attached." You roll your eyes at the spite in their tone. You'd rather not deal with the Pale King's portions of Hallownest, thanks. Especially not once word gets out about the Troupe and the worm goes out to confront Him. Grimm can appear in your dreams for now, at least until neither of you are in danger of getting… Whatever happened to Wasp.

Wait, what if PK does that to Grimm?! You ignore Joni's screech in favour of your own high-pitched one, (Courtesy of your flaps.) darting off in the opposite direction.

You pass right on by the Lantern cave, (You can't actually fall asleep on command and you're currently very well-rested.) scrambling up the nearest wall and ignoring your very real lack of a mantis claw. Of course, this just leads to you falling on your ass because you're so damn top-heavy , but whatever, it's fine! 'Yeah, I know! I gotta believe!' You whisper to yourself, getting as psyched up as you can. And right on cue, you get an idea.

… Wait, where's the -- "You left the head in the Lantern Room." Shit. Okay, you now have to run down and go get that and then you'll have an idea!

.

A few minutes later, you're using the head as an improvised mantis claw in order to scramble your way up again. It doesn't work too well, ( Not anymore than you imagine a metal claw would, honestly. ) but it's enough to get you up and past the platform that's giving you trouble.

After a while (Too long, too long, too long. ) of this , you're finally darting past Gorb's grave (Throwing his currently invisible spirit a thanks for all the good battles. [Joni points out that he can't hear you, and you point out that you don't give a shit.]) and out towards King's Pass. "Wait, you're going up to a cliff, don't--!!"

You don't care, bitch, you're immune to fall damage!

You hit the ground like a motherfucking Avenger (Caw caw, motherfuckers! [As in Davesprite, not Hawkeye.]) and use the conveniently stance-like pose to take off running, kicking Crawlids out of your way in your panic.

Vengeflies are still terrifying, but they're at least smart enough to understand that you are brandishing one of their own heads at 'em apparently, because they stay the fuck out of your way.

Passing by the Lifeblood cocoon causes Joni to make a startled noise, but you don't give two shits about that noise or what it means. The door to Hallownest hasn't closed yet, thank gods, and you're not about to lose! You spend a second being startled about the bridge (Of course it'd still be here.) before shaking your head and running back towards Dirtmouth--

Then you realize that Dirtmouth is way, way busier than you thought. The streets are milling with people, but more noticeably, the streets are milling with guards. Several of whom are camped out in front of Grimm's tent!

You stamp your feet in panic before remembering that you're not supposed to be seen and hiding behind the edge of the door. Then you start stamping your feet in panic!

'HOLYSHITWHATAMIGOINGTODO?!' You scream in your head, (Not realizing that you'd also screamed through the Void.) flapping your arms around like you're trying to fly. It takes a long time of internally screaming, stomping, flapping, and enacting violence on anything nearby before you're calm enough to think.

Shit, Grimm can handle this, right? Maybe if you knock your head on something hard enough… No, no, Grimm's seen the soldiers, He already knows PK knows He's here. You can't apologize now, you'd just be distracting Him . Gods, but what if he's bringing an army like he had for Wasp? You've seen how spiteful he can get!

You spend several minutes fretting like this before you're distracted by a distant flash of bright, blinding light. (It's not orange, but you wish it was, and you don't know how to feel about that.) You peek out from the door's edge, looking at a very, very angry looking (Very short.) Pale King. His wings are flared outwards, and even from so far away, you can hear what he's saying, (Is this why they call him a Higher Being? It's like his words have been stabbed straight into your brain and etched across your thoughts. [You are scared.]) screaming in a way that makes you want to cry and curl up in a blanket in a bathroom (Or somewhere else that's tight and dark. [Preferably also warm, {And safe.} but these things together aren't very good for a bathroom. {Safe!!}]) for a long time. (Fucking parent issues.)

"How dare you come into my territory, you insolent parasite!" Oof. You give Grimm a sympathetic wince and an F in the metaphorical chat. "After everything with Deepnest and the Failed Vessel, you have the gall to show up here, as though Hallownest is dying?! Mark my words, Nightmare King, Hallownest will last eternal. No traitorous spiders or broken Vessels--" (You take personal offense to that, and combined with his insult of Wasp, [Failed! How dare he?!] Joni is the only thing keeping you still.) "--and especially no Higher Beings will change that!"

You can't help but wonder why Grimm's still tolerating him. To you, he just looks like a very short and angry male Karen yelling for the manager, more funny than a real threat. But then, despite your contempt, he is the King. And hey, what was that about Deepnest? What did he mean by traitorous spiders? The Radiance had said something about Deepnest too, and the pieces are coming together to form a horrible, horrible picture.

You need to get to Deepnest.

You need to find Hornet.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Your mental map of Hallownest has not been serving you well.

Currently, you're sitting in the Lantern Room. The sand in front of you is covered in your best recreation of the left side of Hallownest, but you're much aware that it… isn't pretty.

'The Queen's Garden entrances are out. (pale, queen, no .)'  

"You say there is an entrance through the Abyss?"

'Yeah, but… (buried, shell, rot and decay)'

"Ah."

'Yeah.' You definitely are not avoiding having to tell your siblings about Wasp, no sirree. (No matter how accusing Joni feels in the back of your head.)

"You say there are three entrances in the Fungal Wastes?"

'Yeah. Two near Queen's Gardens, ([long fall, first time seeing, scared.] [slightly not as long fall] too close, unsafe) and one through the Mantis Village. (nail and claw and distrust of pale, great knight sneaking away, fear).'

"So what you're saying is, despite all of your 'meta' knowledge, you can't think of a safe way to get us to Deepnest that doesn't involve you acknowledging--"

'Yep! (shut up)'

"Now, what's going on here?" You flinch bodily and jump up to your feet, (reaching for a weapon you don't have --) only for the oversized blob of Jell-o you carry on your head to cause you to overbalance and fall over. You land directly on it, (making you and Joni both flinch) spilling the floor Lifeblood blue.

You look up at the Nightmare (Clothed in red and black this time and not just red. [Good, that outfit is ugly.]) and narrow your eyes as best you can. Expressing any emotion takes a concerted effort, but based on Its expression, you're doing a right fine job of expressing it.

'Looking for-' Right. Voidspeak won't work outside of the Dream Realm. Pulling yourself up into a sitting position, you tap your face twice and then draw a picture of Hornet's mask in the sand. After a bit of thought, you draw yourself, Ghost, Brush, and (Do not think, do not feel, do not hope. [Don't let them in, don't let them see-!]) Wasp's masks as well.

You draw an X through your eldest sister, and then tap Brush's face twice and gesture to the vague blob labeled 'Gree'. (Curse your shitty shape thinking!)

You look up to make sure Grimm saw and then tap the doodle of Hornet, (Well, you don't actually know if she's in Deepnest, but if Herrah is awake, that's probably where she is.) wiggle your hand back and forth in a 'so-so' motion, and then tap the lowest blob (You'd doodled a crude spider onto it after you'd realized words wouldn't work.) twice.

"What about this one?" It gestures to Ghost, and you spend a few seconds trying to figure out how to portray 'with the Pale King' in pictures. (Wait, didn't he… SHIT ).

You struggle hurriedly to your feet and half-jump, half-fall into the Ringleader's arms, squeezing Him as tightly as you can. (He could've died, He could've died!)

"Ah, er... Little one? Are you alright?" (No.) "Why are you hugging me?" (Oh. Right.) The Nightmare Heart and Its Vessel ask in perfect unison, casting half-lit eyes on you and then your shitty drawings.

You shove down the part of you that wants to be loved (Ha! Puns are always the answer to any problem. [Even you being so touch-starved that your Void vibrates at the mere thought of human {Sentient? Living?} contact.]) and shake your head rapidly. You scribble a messy King's Brand into the sand and connect it to Ghost, looking up at the Troupe Master once more.

"The Pale King is going to kill them?" You start to shake your head, then stop, then think, (The sealing would kill them eventually.) and then wiggle your hand back and forth like you had with Hornet.

"I… See. So, you are going to the spider's nest to look for this one?" It points to Hornet and you nod quickly, clapping your hands. (You feel a bit like a character in a children's show, waiting for the audience to shout out the answer.)

"I see. Here, give me your hands. The people of Deepnest no longer dream, and I don't dare to intrude on their territory. Let me give you this as a parting gift instead." You tilt your head, but oblige, watching as the Flame begins to shape your stubby fingers into signs. (Holy shit.)

"Deep." It forms your fingers into an L shape, (IN THE SHAPE OF AN L ON HER FOREHEAD!) turns your hand upside down, and pushes it towards the ground.

"Nest." It cups your hands like you're holding a ball from the bottom, and then drags your hands halfway up the imaginary ball. (Does Hallownest have birds?)

"Deepnest."

You practically light up with understanding, exhaling through all your flaps at once before playing a quick tune (Just three notes in rhythm, for practice.) to show your joy. The Showman gives you a fond before He takes your hands once more.

"Search." Your middle two fingers are curved and brought up close to your eye (Oh, like the 'I've got my eyes on you!' gesture!) and then brought back, circling around twice.

The Heart thinks for a second, and then releases your hands. "...What are they to you, the one you're searching for?"

You perk up and look back at the diagram, connecting the King's brand to all five tiny sketches in the sand. Then you draw the female symbol next to Hornet, and desperately hope He gets it.

The Nightmare's eyebrows raise when you connect the King's Brand symbol to the other drawings, and for a moment It regards you with suspicion, but then the Showman looks back at the drawing. His eyes light up with understanding. (And more suspicion.)

"She is your sister?" You nod quickly and raise your hands back up for Him to show you that sign too. (You're impatient , damnit! [Sign language feels good! So, so much better than a voice!] You want to learn more!) It's staring at the King's Brand, (Nuh-uh, you are not having that conversation right now, not with your limited grasp on sign! [Not in the waking world, where every way you try to express yourself will fall painfully flat.]) so you flap your hands around in front of Its face. The Showman startles, but then smiles once more, (It looks tired and false.) taking your hands again.

"Patience, child. Sister." He curves your pointer finger inward and taps the side of it against the center of your mask twice. You perk up at this-- two taps! (Just like how earlier, you'd tapped everything twice! What a lovely coincidence!) You stomp your feet (Happy stomping!) and not-smile at Him, repeating the sign for sister and then jumping up and down.

"Search Deepnest! Search sister!" You sign rapidly, trying your best to memorize them. ( Your memory may have improved, but you don't trust it that much.)

The Nightmare laughs heartily (This man just 'Ho-ho-ho'd at you. You are being sent!) and you jump up and down, practicing the signs a few more times before He takes your hands once more. "Just a few more, okay?" You nod, watching Him with rapt attention. (You ignore how you feel safe and cared for here. [You ignore the instinct demanding you relax here and allow yourself to be a child once more. { You will not age-regress in front of the Nightmare King!}])

"Find." He lifts your hand, palm up, and clenches it. The motion feels victorious and extremely suiting, and you quickly practice it. 'I will find Hornet!', your hands seem to say with every repetition. Without His prompting, you put your hands back in His and nod for Him to continue again.

"Family." Your hands are laid flat and facing each other, (You look like a mime holding a box in the most awkward way possible.) before swirling around to pinch all of your fingers together. This one's a bit more complicated than the others, so you take a bit more time to practice it accordingly. (Family, family. Two, connected. [Have you seen my son?! The sign even reminds you of a whirlpool!] Family!) You nod up at Him, and He seems almost proud.

"Please." Palm flat, pressed to your chin, then extended outwards and clenched with your thumb sticking out. (Why your thumb? [This sign feels familiar, like one of the common ones from Before, but you can't remember which.]) You only repeat it once before looking back up and nodding.

"Thank you." Palm flat, pressed to your chin, and extended once more, but this time, your palm stays flat. (Oh, that one!) You nod quickly and then tug at His cloak.

"Family! Find sister, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Expressing yourself feels wonderful , and once He processes your words, (The Ringmaster smiles at you and nods, welcoming you in return. He asks you to stay safe and survive. "For the Ritual's sake, of course," added the Heart.) you go back to practicing them on your own. 

"Ah, not yet, little shade." You turn back to the Troupe Master and nod, holding your hands out for Him. (You don't hesitate, because you trust Him.) It looks over at your little doodles and and lets out a wistful sigh.

"Dead." Both of your hands are raised with the fingers pointing out like a gun. (Fitting.) He pulls your hands up parallel to your chest and then lowers them to be perpendicular. Up, and then down. Dead.

"The Pale King." You can't help but scrunch up a little bit when It says this. The Heart takes your left hand and raises it, palm inward, and extends your thumb, index, and middle fingers. It curls them inward, and then flares them outward. You practice this one for a bit longer, and then turn to It.

"The Pale King dead please." The Flame laughs uproariously, clapping his hands. You can't help but warm a little in pride as you begin practicing again.

You don't even notice that Grimm leaves until He is gone, but you do notice that next to the blob standing in for Greenpath is a little doodle of a Stag, with a line connecting it to Deepnest.

You are possibly the stupidest bug alive. "That's for damn sure."

Chapter Text

Greenpath is a special kind of hell, you've decided, and this is your punishment for refusing to face your siblings.

By the time you reach the Stag Station, you are tired and trembling and ready to keel over and die. Your bubble popped a long time ago and covered you with Lifeblood, but at least the cyan fluid did a good job hiding (And healing.) the various cuts, bruises, acid burns, bite marks, and other means of injury gained from attempting to travel Greenpath without a nail. Combine that with the mud, Void, greenery, and all other manner of disgusting things you're coated in, and you're the picture of a deranged hobo who ran out of the woods screaming about demons or some shit like that.

At least the dirt and grime prevented you from being recognized as a Vessel? Small blessings.

You ring the bell and look longingly at the bench. You want to stop and rest, but you have the feeling that if you sit down you won't get back up again. (Will it heal you like in game?) With a great rumbling of feet, the Stag arrives in the station, giving a hearty whistle when he catches sight of you.

"Aye, Greenpath really did a number on ya, eh? Where are ye off to? I 'magine a hot spring would do wonders for your aches." His voice is masculine and heavily accented, (He sounds like a TV Irishman.) but smooth and untouched by age. (You like this guy.)

"Deep… nest… please…" Your shaking hands make it hard to sign, but hopefully you'll be in Deepnest soon and you can sleep …

The Stag's face goes pale as though you'd asked him to plunge a nail into his ches t, and your heart (Metaphorically, because you're pretty sure you don't have the actual organ.) stops in your chest. Once more, you mourn your lack of tear ducts. You force your hands to raise and still, trying to remember any signs that might help you.

"Please… Looking… Deepnest… Find sister… Find family. Deepnest. Please." Your hands fall down limp to your sides and you know that you won't be able to sign anymore if you tried. The Stag looks you over with wary eyes, and then looks up into one of the corners of the room, pawing the ground in worry. When you follow his eyes, you see a glint of metal tucked into the greenery. It's dark and well-hidden, (If you hadn't been looking for it, [Or if your eyes were any less sensitive] you wouldn't have been able to see it. ) but very clearly an antique (Though, it'd be considered modern here, wouldn't it?) microphone.

You look to the Stag, (He looks so young, just barely past his adult molt. [Why should he have to sacrifice his life for you?] ) trembling in fear. Why is there a microphone there? What has the Pale King heard? You're desperate to escape, but you don't want--

Your thoughts are interrupted by the Stag squeezing his eyes shut and then closing them in resignation. The smell of fear ( When had that happened? You don't remember any change between the acrid humidity of Greenpath and the salty tang of fear, [ When did you learn what fear smells like??] and yet…) left the air somewhat, and with the slowness of someone consigned to their death, the Stag lowers themself to the ground for you to climb on. You meet his eyes, (Trying terribly hard not to [Attempt to] cry) and bend into a bow in thanks.

"Thank you." You sign as you climb on, putting your entire body into the motion. (Turns out you had one more sign left in you.)

"You say yer goin' to the Crossroads fer a soak in the springs, eh? I don't blame ya- 'Ve heard they're downright pale." It takes you a half-second to realize that he's lying for the microphone, (Pale? [He's even in the slang!]) and by that point, he's already off and running.

After a few long minutes of stoic silence, the Stag speaks up. " I'll drop ye off by the Stag Nest - yer mute, right?" You nod and he hums, taking a left turn. "Alright, listen to the tune I 'um carefully. When yer 'bout to turn the corner headin' in, I want ya to tap it out on the wall."

You pat him in agreement, and he hums a simple tune of five notes. (You have no idea how he can talk and sing while running, [Lucky! You'd kill for that kind of capacity.]) You wait two beats and then pat the tune in time.

"Alright, you've got it. Just whistle -- er well, tap that out when yer comin' in, an' someone'll take ya down to that King-forsaken nest." This part was meant for you, but you hear him mutter: " I've no idea how you've managed to rope me into this . Takes a special sort 'a pitiful, I guess."

You can't help but laugh softly. You'll take 'pitiful' over 'dead' any day.

Your guide drops you off in a cold and windy tunnel, presumably somewhere close to the Stag Nest. ( You'd never gotten his name. [Probably for the best; No point in risking his life more than he already had.])

" Break a leg, squib. Go find yer sister, an' maybe a bath while you're at it!" He left you with those parting words, an almost familial nuzzle, (You sure are touch-starved, huh?) and a hearty guffaw as he ran off back the way he came. (He reminds you of Ogrim; You like him.)

You start walking down the tunnel, stopping when it sharply turns a corner. Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap . The percussive sound echoes down the hallway, and is soon met with the barely perceptible sound of hooves approaching you.

A much, much older Stag turns the corner and lowers themself to the ground beside you. You bow in thanks and climb on, listening to the sound of their hoofbeats picking up speed as they get further and further from the Stag's Nest.

Gradually, the steady rhythm of their gallop (And Joni's blessed silence.) burrows its way into your mind. Before you even know it, you've fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

"Wake up, little one. We've almost arrived."

You awaken to a slightly raspy (And distinctly feminine) voice and the carriage beneath you gently shaking. When you peel your eyes open, the Stag is looking up at you calmly up through the dark.

" We can't take you any further than here. You'll have to walk the rest of the way yourself, okay?" You shift and wobble, ( The bubble has regrown, you note, watching it cast a soft blue glow across the cavern. If the stag has noticed it , she stays quiet, thankfully.) but make your way down to the ground.

"Thank you. Thank you." You sign, hoping that the stag can see it in the dark. "The bubble will provide her light, don't worry." She nods and turns around, running off back towards Hallownest, and leaving you in the tunnels.

Deepnest is dark, but your sensitive eyes can see into it easily. Striding through the tunnels, you notice the very beginnings of the glowing hyphae (How are things in the Fungal Wastes and Fog Canyon, you wonder? [ Nothing the Pale King could do would ever fully kill off the mushrooms, {You can't kill me in a way that matters!} but the jellies {What is Quirrel like, in this distant past?} and mantids are still very much mortal.]) that make up the fungal network providing Deepnest's middling light.

Curiously, you stretch your senses out… Holy shit, there's a lot of Void here. Even so far from the Village itself, this place is brimming with Void and Soul, co-existing and mingling in a strange primordial soup. As you inspect the magic laced through the air around you, you notice that it's moving. "They know we're here," whispers Joni. "I hope you know what you're doing."

You nod slowly (You never know what you're doing, and thus, neither does anyone else. [Isn't that the exact strategy that Zote uses?] It's worked for you so far, right?) and begin walking forward, watching as the magic begins to condense and move, forming a thick, soupy, purple fog. (It feels like Void and some deep-set instinct [Your instinct to protect things that can't protect themselves.] reaches out to say hello, marking the Higher Being as family before you've even met.)

The fog condenses in front of you, (You stop walking, in respect.) and begins to take form. First, a large abdomen tipped with a sharp stinger, and then a thorax with six arms (How can you tell that they're arms? You don't know.) protruding out, then two sets of translucent wings, (They shimmer with Soul and Essence, and you burn in envy.) and finally a large head with a pair of segmented antennae. The Higher Being (It's a giant fucking bee , and you are two seconds away from [Metaphorically.] shitting your pants and screaming.) fixes you with eyes like the moon, mandibles chittering curiously as it tilts its head.

'You feel like Void. (familiar, mother [gone], suspicious)' they whisper in (His mental signature belies his pronouns.) Void-speak. (You don't know why you're surprised about this, he was made by one of your siblings, of course he'd know their tongue.) 'Identify yourself. (threat)'

You drop down to a bow, hurriedly wiping dirt and grime off your mask.

'I am named (given by sibling, precious gift) Loved, and I refer to myself using it and its. (pronoun feels strong, powerful, beyond comprehension) With me is Joni, (deity of lifeblood, healing, medicine, and miracles [annoying { very annoying}]) who uses they and them.' The Higher Being inspects you and Joni, poking and prodding at your minds. (Both of you let him in; [Despite how fucking sick you are of higher beings reading your mind.] You know who's in charge here.)

'I am Tantabus, (god of dreamless sleep [protection from old light]) and I use he and him.' His thoughts echo strangely in your mind, and it’d give you a migraine if it weren't for the bug drugs ( Joni has stopped responding to the jab. Lame.) coursing through your veins.

Tantabus (The name reminds you of a terrible being of nightmares from a show you watched as a child. [This one, thankfully, didn't seem nearly as hostile as that Princess' creation.]) has questions, you can feel them simmering in his (So young, despite his power.) mind. Why do you feel like his mother? (Wasp? She'd… created a higher being? [You are so proud.]) What are you doing in Deepnest? Are you going to hurt his family? (He reminds you so much of your siblings, so young and innocent and full of wonder for the world. [He can protect himself, but you want to pull him into your arms anyways. {If Wasp had created him, does that make him your nephew? (Is there a gender-neutral version of 'aunt'?)}])

'I come here for my sister, (named Hornet, worried, princess, alive?) after learning of Wasp's (sister, sorry, grief, regret) death.' Admittedly, it's a lame reason, but it's the reason you have. (You tend to make impulse decisions a lot, okay? [Your only goal here is to keep your family safe and alive and happy.])

Tantabus narrows his (Huge fucking bee!!!) eyes at you, (Somehow.) and disappears. 'Wait here.' He whispers as he leaves, and you decide that that's probably best for right now. "She created a Higher Being? How? Did she birth them?" You give Joni a good mental whack; Tantabus can still hear you, and those sorts of questions are very rude to ask.

After a long time spent waiting, you hear somebody (Multiple somebodies, so many footsteps…) approaching. You crouch down in your best approximation of a fighting stance despite your obvious lack of a weapon, (The Vengefly skull had slipped out of your hands at some point during the Stag ride. F.) uncertain of what you'll have to face. (Had Tantabus betrayed you? Would he bring an army? Could you outrun them?) You take a breath to steady yourself as the owners of the footsteps turn the corner…

"Sister!!" You exhale loudly in excitement, barely able to stop your hands from shaking. You run up and jump, preparing to meet Hornet in a hug, only to be clotheslined by the flat end of Herrah's needle. (Oof.)

You look up at Herrah. (She is so much bigger in person.) and wave sheepishly, climbing off of her needle (Can Vessels bruise? You're about to find out.) and retreating back to a respectable distance.

Now that you're no longer jumping on her in your excitement, you notice that Hornet has a club on her back. (Ooh, pretty! You wanna touch it. "No." You're gonna touch it.) You lean to the right a little bit, (Careful not to fall!) tracing the intricate patterns on the nail. (Are those letters? You're pretty sure those are letters. [Does Hallownest have English letters? {Why does Hornet have a club?}])

You squint, focusing on the maybe-letters. U… l… l...  Ull… Bull, skull, lull… Mull? "It doesn't matter, listen to what she is saying!" Okay but consider this: No.

You continue shuffling a few inches to the left (Is Herrah still talking? "Yes." ) in an attempt to see better. K… the beginnings of an S… (Skull? [Do bugs have skulls?] A fitting name for a club, you suppose.) ...Y?

Yskull? Yuh-skull? What kinda word is that? You're getting to the edge of how far you can move without going further, but now that you've seen it, you need to know.

You take a careful step forward…

A.

Ayskull.

Grayskull.

(Your blood runs cold.)

Chapter Text

You approach your mother with slow, careful steps. She is weeping. Weeping… for whom?

"Oh, child… I'm so sorry…"

Your eyes open wide, or at least, as wide as they can. She's mourning. She's… grieving. Regretting.

She gave everything for him, didn't she?

You delicately pull an acid tube out of your inventory, making sure it's the right one by the title scribbled in sharp English on the top: Two.

Yes, this will do quite nicely. You pull out the player that Monomon gave you and hook it up to the tube, spurred on by your mother's broken sobs. (You did this Before, too, trying to take on the burden of your Mother's problems. You hope it will go better this time.)

"Sweetheart, you look a little tired," the voices begin to sing, quietly at first, "when did you last eat?" The White Lady startles, head whipping around the room, but for now, she finds nothing.

"Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need." She tries to ask who's there, but her voice cracks weakly before she can even inhale. "Tell me that something's wrong if something's wrong, you can count on me."

"You know I'd take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat." You step out of the shadows, gripping the acid tube close to your chest. The White Lady looks as though she's been struck, and you hesitate out of fear.

"It's okay if you can't find the words," you look up to her, hesitant, before running up and offering her the tube, "let me take your coat, and this weight, off of your shoulders."

With shaking hands, you rest the tube on her lap. The music swells and it lists dangerously to the side, but it's caught by a pale root. The branch wraps around the tube like a delicate artefact, holding it with unmatched care.

"Like a force to be reckoned with! A mighty ocean, or a gentle kiss, I will love you with every single thing I have." You meet her eyes, watching as they fill with fat, sky-blue tears. She bites down a sob, staring right back at you. "Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess! Or calm waters, if that serves you best."

"I will love you without any strings attached."

Your mother breaks, then, dissolving into quiet sobs.

"It's okay if you can't catch your breath," roots twine around you and lift you up in a hug, and you use the closeness to gently pat her face, "you can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest."

To your surprise, she closes her eyes and gently rests her forehead against yours. You flinch at first, and she draws back with a pitiful expression, (That won't do!) so you stretch your arms out as far as you can and lunge back at her, accidentally knocking your foreheads together. (Privately, you think that there are jokes to be made about this.)

She lets out a quiet, pained noise, but then the branches of her head wrap around your body and hold you close and fast and suddenly it doesn't matter anymore. You hold your mother close as she cries, grieving the children she never got to meet and the husband she gave up everything for.

"I know exactly how the rule goes, put my mask on first," (If she's confused about the phrasing, it doesn't show.) "no I don't want to talk about myself, tell me where it hurts."

"I just want to build you up, build you up, till you're good as new!" Quietly, you open your vents, preparing to 'sing' along. "And maybe one day I will get around to helping myself too."

"I don't even know where to start, already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart," Her breath catches before falling off into a tired wail, and you know the words struck true. Your heart swells with an odd sort of pity, the kind brought on from knowing near-perfectly what that feels like. "I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well!"

"I just want to learn how, to somehow, to be loved myself." A lonely tear slides down her face, joined by another, and another. Tears like tiny siblings falling to the ground below.

"Like a force to be reckoned with," she takes in a breath on the same beat as you, and begins to sing along as best as she can. It's sloppy and offbeat, but you couldn't care less, raising your 'voice' in a warbly tune. "a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss, I will love you without any strings attached."

You can't help but almost-smile as she stumbles over the words, and to your surprise, she gives you a weakened smile back.

"And what a privilege it is to love, a great honour to hold you up…" Her face softens with that same sort of pity, then, as a root gently strokes your cheek. You don't even try to resist leaning into it, don't want to. (This is far more than your Mother ever gave.)

"Like a force to be reckoned with," and your fragile voices raise in clumsy time, "a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss. I will love you with every single thing I have."

"Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess, or calm waters if that serves you best," you take a deep breath in, (Here comes the final!) "I will love you without any strings attached."

Your best attempts at voices swell together like the crashing of a tide, then retreat to broken whispers, like the aftermath of war:

"I will love you without a single string attached."

The violins bring both of you back down to Earth (Are you even on Earth anymore?), a mother and her child grieving as one. You cannot cry, but you shake (The cold calls you even now.), allowing yourself to finally just be vulnerable.

"Oh, child, my child," the White Lady whispers, in a fragile voice unsuited for a queen, "so young, and yet…" You pat her cheek once more and she chokes out a whine, leaning into your touch.

"To already know such pain…" A soft vine twines around your horns, tracing the edges of Monomon's device, then down to curl around the handle of your nail.

"I am so sorry." It is a plea, choked off with emotion. Your mother stands before you, a million times your size, begging you for mercy. For forgiveness.

You reach out with a tiny, void-black hand, and place it firmly on her cheek. Her face is softer than most bugs, and you could almost mistake her for a mammal. With the soft pad of your thumb, you wipe away a stray tear, and meet her eyes as you nod.

She spends a long time, then, merely grieving. She holds you close and tight to her bound chest as she wails, and your eyes burn with the phantom feeling of tears unshed. (You miss Wasp. You never even got to know her, and oh, you miss her.)

It is a long time before she gathers her voice enough to speak once more. When she does, it's in a regal tone, raising her head up high. "Dearest Dryya, you may return to your post."

You whip your head around, searching the darkness for a pale (Living.) face, before catching the fierce Knight in the tail end of a bow. Her hand flails blindly for the wall behind her, and you can't help but giggle silently as she scrambles back up the dirt.

The moment passes quickly, and you look up at your mother as she stares back at you. Her eyes are like the bottomless ocean, filled with unconditional love and endless pity. (You fidget, entirely uncertain of how to match the depth of her affection without the direct, unfiltered sincerity of the Void's hivemind.)

You place a hand on her forehead this time, and she lets out a chuckle like the breaking of glass. "Every time I think I've lost everything, the universe gives me another chance. Just how many are there of you, little one?"

You elect to ignore the way her voice hangs (She doesn't think that she deserves another chance, but everyone, everyone does.), instead choosing to flail around in an attempt to get out of her holds. Gentle as if you were a porcelain doll, she sets you down onto the floor, and you jump around a bit in excitement before getting to work.

You run off to the farthest corner of the room and mark one tally mark onto the wall. (You resist the urge to re-enact your favourite reaction image.) Then you draw another, and another, and another, and another.

First Named Spire, Little like Flowers, World Weaver, Life Ender, One who Sleeps, Ghost, Brush, all eleven of the Deepnest Vessels, Lightseeker, Loud Mess Maker, Sharp Like Spikes…

Your mother takes a sharp breath and you look over at her, quickly stopping when you realize that she's on the verge of crying again. You shake your head quickly and flail your arms about to get her to stop, pointing at the tally marks and then back at her (Damnit, you couldn't resist the urge.), raising a finger to indicate that she should wait.

You start to think about how to express this with pictures, but then you remember that Monomon had taught you how to write this exact thing. You take a moment to facepalm at your own idiocy, then carefully pull your nail off of your back and begin to write on the dirt floor:

"Vessels have two parts: A shell and a shade. My sibling's shells are broken, and even some of their shades are too. The ones without shades are dead, but the rest of them can be brought back." You look up at her, watching the realization dawn on her face. "If you fix the shell and return the shade, the Vessel will be whole once more."

You finish the sentence with a dramatic flourish, pointing at it with your nail and staring at her without fear. She takes in a breath, looking between you and the words.

"I am bound, I cannot-"

"Siblings. Whole. Once. More." Rather than rewriting them, you stab your nail into each individual word, digging it into the dirt to enhance your emphasis. She trembles, and you extend a hand, waiting for her to take it. "Fix siblings broken, fix siblings dead, fix you broken, siblings once more!"

If she truly regrets what she did, she'll help you to fix it. Languishing in a cocoon and feeling sorry for herself won't bring them back, but helping you will. She has an opportunity to fix her mistakes now, and you meet her with a steely gaze, sheathing your nail and raising your hands to sign.

'Please.'

The White Lady takes a deep breath. A second passes, then two, before she responds.

The bindings closest to her neck split, and then the rest begin to buckle and shatter. Your mother reaches her hand out to you, trailing vines like gossamer silk sleeves, and you take it. It's soft like a human's, and you hold it firmly, 

"I accept," she says, in a voice soft like a promise, "I'll do anything I can to help."

(You feel warmth bubble up in your chest.)

Chapter Text

By the power of Grayskull!

You can nearly hear Adora's voice echo in your mind. A shared source? You were Entrapta once, perhaps… (Etherian writing looks nothing like English, you would know. [You don't want to think about this. "Existential crises later, she finished talking." What?])

You stare up at Herrah, who is currently looking at you. Expectantly. Oh, higher beings.

"Sister." You sign and then point to Hornet, completely ignoring whatever Herrah just said. "Search." You hold up two fingers. "Sister, Deepnest. Find sister." You hold up one finger and point to Hornet, and then hold up the second finger (Inadvertently flipping Herrah off.) and tap your mask twice. "Dead. The Pale King dead sister."

"You came to Deepnest to find your two sisters: Hornet, and Wasp, who was killed by the Pale King?" You can feel the metaphorical raised eyebrow from Herrah, but fuck it, you didn't come here to be polite. You nod, and then continue.

"Family." You point downwards. "Deepnest. Family," down again, "Search family. Find family." Down. "Deepnest." ...Herrah is looking at you weirdly. Fuck. She doesn't understand you, does she? 

"If I may, my Queen." You do not flinch when Tantabus appears beside Herrah, and Joni is a lying liar who lies for saying so. "They-" (It or him, thank you very much.) "-are trying to say that they have more siblings far below Deepnest." Holy shit. (You'd forgotten that he can understand you. [Herrah is looking at you.])

"Child," Herrah's voice is large, but not loud, easily filling the narrow tunnel. "You mean to tell me that you came here following the death of my youngest child to not only remind me of her absence, but to then inform me that there are somehow more of your kind below these tunnels?" Shit. She sounds mad. (Please don't be mad...)

"Wasp was very clear in informing me that the rest of her siblings are dead, but now you come here with the Blue-Tongued Serpent in your head-" The what? Joni? "-and claim that they are still alive? What, would you tell me I could bring her back?" No! You tried! (Sort of.) "Would you tell me that the only way there is through the Nosk Den?!" (Er…)

Tantabus is very diligent with relaying your thoughts, (You're sorry, you won't do it again-!) and Herrah's voice is steadily rising. (You're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry-)

"You jump at my only remaining daughter and ignore what I say, and you expect me to believe you?!" Your eyes dart between them rapidly. (Help.) Hornet, Herrah, Tantabus, Hornet- (You fucked up, you fucked up, you're sorry! [You don't want her to hurt you, please.])  

Everything is shaking. (It's you, you're shaking. [You need to run, you need to hide!]) She's still speaking, Joni is speaking, (Can't hear them through the fog. [Don't hurt, please don't-!]) you've curled back into yourself and your fingers are tap, tap, tapping- (Joints are vulnerable, peel back the chitin, need to move and hide and- [Help, please--!!])

Hornet.

Hornet. Her hand. On your shoulder. (It's loud. [How can a touch be loud?]) Hornet's hand is on your shoulder. She's speaking. (She's speaking? [She's touching you, touch, you want, you want, you want--]) She is in front of you, her hand is on your shoulder, and she is speaking. What's she saying? (You don't mean to ignore her, you're sorry, you're trying.)

Her hand waves in front of your face. You follow it. (It is here, it is real, it is safe. [She can't hurt you.]) Dimly, you register that Herrah is saying something, (Probably to stay away from you. [You're a threat, you're going to hurt them, you're sorry!]) but Hornet says something else and Herrah stops yelling. (Thank you, thank you.) She's still tense, but she's not yelling.

Hornet's voice is slowly filtering in as your brain starts to process things again in slow motion. (She is safe. She loves you. [Fuck it. You're tired, you're getting something out of this, even if it's just a hug.]) You shiver and slump forward, letting your eyes fall closed. (Don't care, so tired, so scared...)

Your mask clanks against hers and she jumps back, letting you collapse. On instinct, your arms break your fall, but then they fail too and you're face down on the floor, not-crying. (You want to, you don't, you don't know what to do.)

Are you going to die here? (Your siblings! You can't forget them, can't!) You reach out to Tantabus (His mind is sharp and wary and full of barbs and it hurts but you can't, you can't fail again.) and shove every bit of knowledge about your siblings you have into their head. (He's tearing you apart, it hurts, it hurts!) Their names, where they are, how to bring them back, how to reach them, how delicate their tiny shades are, (How much you love them. [They named you, and you're going to die here and abandon them and you are so, so sorry.]) their likes and dislikes, their fears, everything you can think about.

'If you kill me, please don't kill them. (save, help, siblings loved adored safe peaceful not threat please -)' Their mind is tearing yours apart, your Void bubbles and thrashes within you and you beg, (You don't want to die!) you beg and--!! And you…-!

You…

You pass out on the floor.

Chapter Text

The first thing that you notice when you wake up is that you're restrained. (Are you in the Beast's Den?) The second thing you notice is that it is very, very bright, wherever you are. The light leaks in (Stabbing and scraping.) through your eyelids. (Oh god, you have a migraine. [Wait, a migraine? Joni said you can't feel pain, couldn't, with her here… {You ache.}])

Your head is pounding (One, two, three, four. A steady rhythm.) like an anvil, the entire top half of your body feels like a terrible knife of pain being hammered into the rest of you. Bang, bang, bang, bang. (You'd cry. You can't. It'd hurt more anyways.)

You try to curl up and your head swirls. You see the forbidden colours and they're branded to your eyes and before you can react, you've fallen asleep again.

Higher beings, you feel like shit. (Owiiiiiiiie…) It's so bright in here. (Must have kicked your pillow off, but the blanket is warm, tucked tight and safe… [Hands on your skin, you can't escape!])

You try to shoot up and awake, but you can't. The blanket (Blanket?) is too tight, it's too tight. Everything feels raw and sore and it's only when you try to whimper that you remember that you're not in your bed. (Bed? The bed is safe, where'd it go?!) This realization sends you into a blind panic for a moment, but then you relax, because there are no beds in Hallownest. (Hallownest? You're not in…)

You try to peel open your eyes, pained winces and jerks replacing tiny cries, (You have no voice to cry suffering, [Are your siblings okay?] but goddamn if you don't try to cry anyways.) but the world around you is bright and hostile. You only manage a few seconds of vision (If you can call blinding, white [Pale? Please, no.] light vision.) before you have to close your eyes again, curling up as much as you can.

Speaking of your restraints, you're currently bound to the floor by a mass of thick threads. Presumably, this is spider silk. Are they going to eat you? (Is that racist? [Speciest? Is that a thing?]) Lifeblood is probably nutritious, but Void sure isn't.

Where is Joni, anyways? (Your head has gotten quiet again…)

As usual, your thoughts are abruptly interrupted. This comes in the form of footsteps, far too many footsteps, scuttling their way over to you. Your body briefly tries to be scared, struggling in the webs, but it doesn't last long. (You don't have a choice in whether you live or die here. The thought is peaceful. [And exhausting.] Also, you're in pain.)

Someone comes close to you. If you reach deep enough, you can feel Soul shimmering around you in complex patterns. It condenses near the presence, and you half-watch in awe as they weave it into complex, beautiful patterns. You don't even try to comprehend them.

"Speech: One Hundred." The presence carefully inflects, (Careful inflection can't take the accent out of their voice. It could almost be a Japanese accent, if the ‘P’ sound was replaced with a strange clicking noise.) and the Soul (The spell.) flows over you like a river, turning an unseen lock and key. 

"Wh'th'fuck…?" Somebody slurs, and it takes you a moment to parse that that someone is you. You'd blink if it wouldn't (Probably.) kill you. "Huh. Mm, nneat…" (Speech 100…) You snort.

"Snea' one'hundre…" You laugh quietly. Speaking doesn't hurt like it usually would during a migraine. You're not even sure how you are speaking. "Is'sat a fuckin' meme..?" You're busy trying to figure out the non-answer to your non-question when Herrah speaks up.

"Identify yourself." Ah, shit, she sounds like steel. (Fuckin, Tatiana from NSR-soundin' ass…) Oh right, she asked a question.

"M'names Loved, it 'n its pronouns." You're still slurring, but you might be coherent this time. Maybe. Honestly, who knows at this point? Anyways, if Herrah reacts to your answer, you sure as shit can't see it.

"I see. Why did you come into Deepnest, then, Loved?" Don't roll your eyes, it's gonna hurt. (Doesn't she know this already? You're not sure.)

"'S lookin' f' Hornet. Pale King… fuckin' ass… said some'in 'boutta… Ssssspiders? Spiders. Hornet… Keep 'er safe." You manage to crack your eyes open just a hair, tilting your mask in the general direction her voice is coming from. (Even the meagre light burns, but you're trying to be respectful.)

"You spoke to the Pale King?" Oh, shit. There's a Needle in your face.

"M'no? Heard him 'n Dir'mouth, fronna' Grimm's tent. Can 'ya get th' Needle outta' my face…?" You try to make a hissing noise, but that was something you only knew how to do with your mouth, so you just end up exhaling instead.

"Grimm? The Nightmare King is in Hallownest?" The Needle isn't moving. Oh well.

"Yeah. Taught me how t'speak. Sign? Fuckin'... 'S real nice." If you're gonna be forced to speak, you'd like an actual mouth to make the sounds with. The lack of stimulation is driving you nuts.

"...Alright. Tantabus has said that you… Informed him that you have siblings down in the Abyss. Siblings who are alive. We'd been under the impression that the Pale King killed them all?" Ah.

"Mmf, yes an'no. Vessels have two parts: Th' Shade an' th' shell. Siblin's shells are broken, Shades aren't. Fix th' shell an' you've got a livin' Vessel."

"Then have you met Wasp's Shade?" She sounds so hopeful. You hate everything. 

"'M 'fraid not. Pale… Mmmmustard Wanker made us. If anyone knows how t'destroy a Shade, 's him… 'M… I'm sorry." You let your eyes fall closed (You are so, so tired.) so as to not see the Needle nearly touching your mask or its owner holding back tears. Your guilt already feels like a crystal projectile lodged inside your chest.

You can hear each tiny hitch of Herrah's breath like a spike to the face and it takes nearly all of your willpower to keep your voice composed as you continue. "M'not gonna lose anyone else…"

She takes a deep breath and you can hear the delicate 'thunk' (It's less of a thunk and more of a 'fwoosh', maybe? You're not good at describing sounds.) of the Needle-tip coming to rest on the ground. (When did your hearing become so good?)

"I see." She pauses for a long moment, long enough for you to consider speaking before she opens her mouth once more. "Little vessel, you are not welcome here."

The words dig into your heart like knives, and for the first time you came here, you have to force down a sob. (You will not guilt-trip the Queen of Deepnest!)

"You will be escorted, blindfolded, to the Fungal Wastes. If I were you, I would seek out the Teacher of the Archives. She will provide you asylum until you can defend yourself."

Silent as ever, you nod--devastated, exhausted, heartbroken, but accepting.

Voice or no voice, there's nothing else you can do.