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Grimm stood upon the edge of a fallen kingdom. Its name whispered in the winds, in the dying ashes of a city far below the surface…Sandelle.
It only took a moment for him to reach into the cracks and impurities of the land, to sense the doom that overran this kingdom: a war. Not too dissimilar from his ancient home Hallownest, it was waged by a Higher Being. How odd, he thought, that so many kingdoms fall in the same way – worship and power.
It was futile to imagine a future for this bleak landscape. Not that Grimm particularly cared either: the Nightmare Heart wanted only one thing and that was fuel. Here, there’d be plenty.
He reached further, for a story, a performance of sorts. To bleed into the memories of the fallen, find their nightmares, the scarlet flame that kept them in despair. And it was reached.
He floated through his realm, watching the events unfurl before him playing back, burning into memory so his troupe may perform it for the enjoyment of those blissfully unaware. He saw a King…of course. Manipulated, instated by five false gods. Simply, a band of strong warriors who wished to rule – yet without the higher authority to do so. Grimm frowned at their stupidity but was still amazed by their ruse.
Then, there was a call. It was faint, he dug deeper, finding the more secure and hidden nightmares amongst the mess. There it was. One warrior, weakest among them, wished to overpower them all. Of course, it was standard. They called upon something dark, powerful, ancient . The Void. He tensed, Grimm felt something uncomfortable.
Ancient rites were reforged, prices paid, and the nightmare ended. At least that one. Grimm had to carry on searching, feasting on the tale, the deliciousness that was a bad ending. He saw by an onlooker, the King presumably, the transformation. The shadows engulfed the warrior, taking a new form, the Beast. And it raged an ancient rage, an awakening that had awaited for centuries. With form and conscience, the shadows consumed the kingdom. The rest of the warriors stood no chance: mortals unable to beat a Higher Being. Hubris, Grimm laughed — a classic tale. There was no limit for bugkind’s foolishness.
The ending was odd, unexpected. Grimm believed the shadows would’ve ceased when there was nothing left to consume, but there was something else. It was still active . It waited patiently, at the bottom of the kingdom. Grimm was only a collector of nightmares, and nightmares of the Void being were loud and thrashing. There but not. His Grimmkin would have trouble collecting the scarlet flame. His head throbbed trying to make sense of it, but he stopped. A hand pressed into his shoulder.
He struck, claws splayed violently, scratching at metal. Into the material world once more, he narrowed his eyes onto the figure in front of him. Tall, mask shaped into a sharp ‘v’, light armour atop their lithe frame, and a nail pointed down, parrying Grimm’s attack. Then, he softened at the sight.
“Can’t get enough of me, my Knight?” Grimm asked suavely, bowing at the sight of them.
They gave no immediate response. Then, they knelt before him for a moment, before getting up to their full height again.
“What brings you to this corpse of a kingdom, dear? I haven’t seen you in a while — was it my presence, some light you wish to consume? Or something else, something deep in this world’s core?” Grimm questioned, looking out from the cliff unto a town below, just scratching the surface of the wreck underneath. His troupe was already making quick work of pitching their tent.
They followed suit, an apathetic gaze onto what lay before them. Oh, unfortunately they weren’t there for Grimm. He shoved the small cinders of disappointment down, instead to face Ghost. They looked regal as ever, truly a Knight of a King, deserving to be named the Lord of Shades.
Ghost then looked at Grimm and paced towards him. They put a cool hand on his chest and then pointed downwards.
“Here? You wish for me to stay here? Upon this cliff?”
They nodded solemnly.
“But why? The strongest of nightmares will be easier to consume in that town down there, dear. I have no intention of delving into the ruin, especially considering what I have gleaned from its nightmares. My Grimmkin perform that, you know.” Grimm confidently cupped his hand on the side of Ghost’s shell. He sometimes missed when Ghost was shorter than him, now slightly taller. The powerful, possessive part of him was not pleased, but then again, it was nice to be the follower in their dances.
A foreign thought crossed Grimm’s mind, as he then shut his eyes to follow it. Ah, they were communicating with him. They were conflicted, something about safety yet also fear. A shame hidden within that. Grimm frowned at the thoughts being directed at him, for nightmares were his fuel but were severely unwelcomed from his beloved.
“Here, sit with me,” He graciously settled himself down on the edge of the cliff, legs hanging off it. Ghost followed suit, awkwardly plopping down next to him. They grasped Grimm’s hand, and he was unsure what it meant.
“You left me a while ago to achieve your own personal goals. I let you go. What then brings you here? Despite being Lord of Shades, I understand you are still a Vessel – I am similar, am I not? Is there another light, deep inside this place?” Grimm spoke, his voice laced with concern.
He felt the trails of thoughts about unification, a purpose bigger than just Ghost, a task of a Vessel: collection, unification, claiming their own. Something similar to consuming light.
“I see.” Grimm pieced it together, “You’re afraid of me being hurt by this. Or, alternatively, you’re afraid of me seeing you gathering. I have no intention of following you into this ruin, unless you asked politely.” He smiled.
Ghost tightened their grip on Grimm’s hand, hunching their back. He felt an apatheticness towards a duty, but then a strong concern. A concern that they would be helpless for some time, a lack of control. Grimm knew their struggle, centuries of knowing Ghost coming to grips with their unadulterated power, and their biggest fear – losing their own agency.
“I suppose it’s part of your nature to want to overpower Higher Beings. If the Beast that ended this kingdom will be yours, then feel free to do so. I will not meddle in your matters, like you don’t my own.”
Grimm took a few moments just to breathe slowly, and gather his bearings. The troupe would be finished soon; Grimm went ahead to scout the outskirts of the kingdom and have a taste, especially avoiding Hallownest nearby – it was terribly close to this kingdom by proximity, and if Ghost wasn’t there he didn’t wish to visit.
They shuffled in their spot, leaning one of their horns onto the side of Grimm’s head. Then, they turned slightly, pressing their muzzle to his head, mimicking a kiss. Even after all these centuries, it made his heart flutter a little.
“Why did you wait, my Knight? You could’ve embraced the Void of this kingdom when you initially left me again. You still elude me, all this time later.” Grimm didn’t let them respond instantly, instead turning his head too to kiss them back. It was tender.
They softened at the gesture, tension leaving their joints as they let Grimm enter their mind. Closing his eyes, Grimm saw flashes and pictures, a living nightmare of their own. Ghost’s mind was confusing, sometimes consisting of many stories at once, from siblings to an ancient past to void recently consumed, what the shadows just beside them observed. Like dreams and nightmares, shadow lurked in the corner of every area of light – there was always more to gather, more for the Lord of Shades to engulf and increase their power. This kingdom drew Ghost from afar, and they’d avoided the duty for too long. It was weakness, Grimm felt. Something doubtful, that Sandelle’s once-bug turned creature of Void was powerful. Possibly powerful enough to take over. A competitor. Ghost was not at their peak right now, for some reason. Grimm delved deeper, and saw a desire. They hungered for light. It’d been some time since the last rebirth ritual, which Grimm always takes great pleasure in allowing Ghost to be his summoner – he could trust them to take care of the child, and to ensure its completion. In return, a final dance with the Nightmare King would satiate the Void, at least for a while. Travelling with the troupe would let Grimm taste the nightmares of dying kingdoms, and when he was finally dead again, Ghost would consume all the light left – a fair exchange, an alliance between the scarlet light and dark shadow. The lantern’s call was weaker this time, but enough of a pull to bring him here.
Now, Ghost had let themself hunger. They had avoided it, but why? Grimm prodded further, but Ghost was unwilling to give in. In Nightmare, Grimm pleaded with a look of pity, which they gave in to. In the rawness of their mindscape, it was just emptiness. A hole left where something fit, and therefore lack of motivation. Where was it? Grimm turned around, perplexed by a gap in this nightmare. Until he realised, the background crystalline and shattered, reflection only depicting himself. Within his realm, he called out, “Why did you not remain with me? You are clever, Ghost, you will have known we would reach this place. I assumed you lit the lantern.”
They finally appeared within their own subconscious, and pointed to a sudden visage of the Hollow Knight, from all that time ago. Their cracked shell, Infection leaking from them, chained to the Temple of the Black Egg. Then, Ghost channelled a mirage of the Beast of Sandelle. The experience equated to each other.
Of course! Grimm gasped. The reluctance to let him down even by the town over the old kingdom, the stiffness in their own demeanour… It hadn’t crossed Grimm’s mind once that his beloved could fail to this point of doubt. Vision clear as day, the Void did not anticipate this. They should’ve been gone for only a short while, but here they were, vainly attacking over and over, until one day the Beast would learn the Lord of Shades’ moves, and there would be a fight for true godhood, dominance over the darkness. How, Grimm had no clue, but something was wrong, and he had no wish that Ghost would suffer any longer. This situation would not become futile. Grimm grieved.
Understanding all that Ghost would give him, Grimm retreated from his mental connection with them. He kissed them again, making sure to be more gentle. He traced his hands along their shell, feeling new dents and divots, from a new, deadly foe. The weakness was physical, he recognised that. He had to help Ghost, or else his beloved may not feel peace for a long time.
He pressed his forehead to Ghost’s best he could, hands on both their shoulders softly, “I will stay safe. I will stay with my troupe when staying here. I will aid you best I can, my Knight.
“Come, the troupe approaches. We will meet them by the edge of town – they will be overjoyed to see you.” Grimm got up, taking Ghost up by the hand. Dusting himself off, Grimm then led the descent, keeping his fingers intertwined with his beloved; they fit perfectly.
Grimm would let them feed, he thought; give them the constitution and power they needed. It was all he could do, really. Ghost wasn’t much for talking about things, nor needing emotional support.
And before reaching the town, Grimm paused. He turned back to look up into the sockets of Ghost’s mask. They tilted their gaze to him. Higher Beings have all the time in the world, and Grimm savoured it with this one beside him. He slid his free hand from their horn down to the base of their mask, then pulled them into a quick twirl. Accustomed to surprise dances by now, they followed suit, going along with Grimm’s lead. It was short yet sweet, the two of them stepping in time, already familiar with their movements in dance, and ending with a dip, where Grimm was intimately tracing soft lines down Ghost’s torso. They shivered, and Grimm laughed. He would treat them later.
For now, they both stood on the edge of the town, ignoring the watchful eyes of its sparse inhabitants, as the troupe grew closer to their goal. Soon, their tent would be pitched, and the two Gods could help one another. With the Beast removed, then Grimm could easily feast on nightmares untainted. Ah, how the Heart hungered. Soon, he knew.
Grimm lay his hand in Ghost’s, who then brought it up to their shell and pressed it against their muzzle. All this politeness and courteousness made Grimm smile smugly. It was half-facade, half-living within the new Pale Court of Hallownest. They’d visit together after this, bask in the nostalgia, see their birthplaces.
It’d been longer than usual that they had shared their days privately. Grimm longed for it once more, and though it would be many more years till the ritual would restart again, he would waste no time.
With the tent pitched, the Troupe Master and Lord of Shades waltzed into its scarlet canopy again. Both impatient, it was time to dance again.