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Dramatis Personae

(The) Radiance - former Goddess of the moth tribe; creature of the Dreamscape and Higher Being

(The) Wyrm - Co-Ruler of the Kingdom of Hallownest and a Higher Being - known also as the Pale King, the White Monarch - married to Root

(The) Root - Co-Ruler of the Kingdom of Hallownest and a Higher Being - known also as the White Lady, the Pale Queen - married to Wyrm

The Dreamers

Monomon "the Teacher" - Head Researcher of the Teacher's Archive

Lurien "the Watcher" - Steward of Hallow, the capital of Hallownest

Herrah "the Beast" - Queen of Deepnest and the Weavers, Mother of Hornet

Hornet - Princess of Deepnest and the Weavers, recognized noble of the Pale Court - daughter of Wyrm and Herrah

The Great Knights (of the Kingdom of Hallownest)

Dryya "the Fierce" - First Knight of Hallownest and personal Knight of the Pale Queen

Hegemol "the Mighty" - Second Knight of Hallownest

Isma "the Kind" - Third Knight of Hallownest

Ogrim "the Loyal" - Fourth Knight of Hallownest

Ze'mer "the Mysterious" - Fifth Knight of Hallownest, a stranger to the lands of Hallownest

Herallien "the Soul Master" - Master of the Soul Sanctum, Head in Soul Research

The Mantis Lords

Perlama - Eldest of the Lords

Tistina

Hymena

Cretoma - branded as the Traitor Lord

The Vessels - born from the union of Wyrm and Root, shaped with the power of the Void

Act 1 'Mortality'

Chapter 1: Falling Sun

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He had barely returned home and already his wife had dragged him somewhere. Not that he minded, especially in this case.

King and Queen stood on a balcony, overlooking the courtyard where the vessels, no, their children had been ordered to assemble.

One hundred eighty-seven small, black figures with white skulls and differentiating ornaments sprouting from the white bone. All still like statues and just as emotionless. Though Wyrm knew off the top of his head a few that had already displayed signs of emotions, will, or independent decision-making, it was a far cry of full self-awareness.

The sight, the thought, it filled him with immense guilt.

However, luckily for himself, his wonderful wife was next to him and nudged his shoulder with a branch. “You are letting yourself be consumed by the guilt of our actions again, my Mind, I can see it on your face.” She whispered in his ear.

“It is not without reason, my Heart.” He replied slowly.

“Perhaps but wallowing in pitch helps you not, as does it not help them. Afterall, we are beginning now to make up for our failings and I need your smart little head.” She gave him a peck on his forehead. He sighed. She always seemed to make a terrible lot of sense, leaving him to accept her reasoning and change things accordingly. “I also want you to pay attention. I think your daughter has finally gotten enough courage.”

Ah yes, they had been observing Hornet’s meeting of her siblings. It was why Root had him be essentially dragged by Dryya and Isma to accompany her in observing things. From what she had told him, Hornet had run off while her mother was arriving for one of many casual meetings with Root. After chasing their daughter down, Herrah had passed the courtyard and stayed. And apparently spent the last fifteen minutes or so trying to convince Hornet to get closer than ten paces to the first rank of Vessels. No, children, he had to get used to that now.

As it seemed, the small princess of Deepnest had finally found the courage to step out from behind her mother’s massive form and slowly approach the formation of statuesque forms.

She stopped about two paces away from the first, a vessel with a set of simple forked horns sprouting upwards from the sides of its head.

Looking back to her mama to gather a nod and her own courage, Hornet puffed up her small chest and addressed the vessel with her head raised as high as possible. It barely put her at the same height as any of them.

“M-my name is Ho-rnet.” She squeaked in as regal a tone as she managed to copy from her mama, stumbling over her own words as she did. Up on the balcony, Root muffled her squeal of delight. Wyrm on the other hand watched attentively. “W-what is your n-name?”

The vessel, as to be expected, did not react.

Hornet tilted her head, utterly confused. Normally when she spoke, people tended to give her some sort of reaction. Mostly they spoke many long and difficult words themselves, patting her head and all. This had never happened before.

Perhaps, this bug, her sibling, had not heard her? Huffing, Hornet made one step forward and gathered all her courage and will to speak like her mama, because when mama spoke bugs listened.

“I-I am Horn-et, we are sib-siblings! Wh-o are you?” She asked again, this time louder.

Neither this vessel nor any of the others moved even a little.

Confusion turned to frustration and childish anger.

Hornet took a big step forward to get face to face with this strange bug that just did not seem to react to her! However, her rising emotions caused her to stumble a bit. With a resounding crack her mask smacked against the Vessel’s. Hornet was thrown back by the impact and landed on her behind, while the Vessel stumbled back a few steps yet retained its balance.

It seemed to be shaking its head, as if to clear the aftereffects of the collision.

“S-sorry!” Hornet whined as she held her mask.

She did not notice at first how all the Vessels were now staring at her. In particular, one of them, adorned with a set of strong horns that had a single ridge on the inside, had moved on instinct. Not much, but for an emotionless vessel a step forward and the arms slightly raised to intervene was very noticeable.

Up on the balcony, Wyrm observed it all. This one vessel was not the only one to display… a reaction.

“Perhaps there is still hope for them.” He mused to his wife. Then he raised his voice so that the words would be heard loud and clear.

“Vessel, help up your sister!”

-o0o-

The village was before them, finally!

How long had it been now? Must have been some three months, about 90 cycles.

He sighed. That it would have come to this.

One nail-claw was raised high and then pointed towards the gate, as the Traitor Lord started walking towards it. Behind him, his host of warriors followed.

As they approached, his mind raced. There had been no patrols that they had encountered, not even seen at a distance. No probing attacks as well, no hit and run strikes, no nothing. The only mantises they had seen here so far were their own comrades in arms.

It was unsettling and nerve-wracking. Of course, it suited his purpose to not be attacked, though he impatiently wished for any sign of loyalist mantises.

But nothing. They were at a third of the approach now.

He turned and motioned to his trusted praetorian commander. For mantises, the idea of bodyguards was more ceremonial. If one of the lords could not fight and defend themselves in battle, what right did they have then? This was why him and his siblings had achieved rulership at all, combined might of arms and devotion to each other.

Oh sisters, forgive me for what I have to do today.

Still, the praetorians were a rank of great honor amongst the tribe. Formed from elite warriors, they held great loyalty to their chosen lord. They could either act as commanders and extensions of the lord or form around them to create a mighty concentration of power in battle, where other warriors could rally, anker their battle line, a glorious spearhead to follow to crush the enemy.

Today however, he had given his praetorians a special mission of the utmost importance. At his motion, the commander nodded and effortlessly moved back through the mass of warriors towards the center of the host.

He nodded to himself. All was as good as he could prepare it. Two thirds there. They were in the perfect position to be ambushed now, an enemy could push the host together in the center of the cavern while leaving themselves enough ground to maneuver for attack runs.

But still, no mantises. And the gate towards the village was closed off.

Eventually, he ordered his host to stop. The silence was almost aggravating, but he forced himself to be patient. Rashness would only lead to failure. He could not afford failure right now.

Alone, he stalked towards the strong doors barring entrance to his home. Raising his right nail-claw, he stabbed the sharp point against the gate three times, creating a loud sound each time. Taking a couple steps back, he waited with held breath.

 To his surprise, the gate rumbled as it was slowly opened by the mechanism inside. As the crack widened, he tried to peer through. At first, he could see no movement behind it.

Then, something thin and quick leaped through between the doors, so high above she could have touched the ceiling. More and more followed as many mantis youths flew like arrows out into the cavern.

Had he turned, he could have seen loyalist warriors surge forward from hidden alcoves and holes in the ground with great speed, surrounding his host the second they emerged.

He did not turn however, for he could hear and picture it, to show his back to what came against him would have been foolish.

Two sharp tips of metal flew out towards him, hitting his own weapons as he raised his limbs on reflex. It seemed he had been right after all; his sisters went after him first. Made only sense.

The assault was as ferocious as it was well coordinated, he had to give it to both of them. However, they were siblings and he knew his sisters well. Which was why he was not caught off guard by the third attack from behind, dashing to the left fast enough to avoid being skewered. This also provided him with the opportunity he had needed.

“Sisters!” He roared. It had always been his gift to shout loudly and have others hear and obey him, even when he was just a young foolish mantis. “Cease your attack for we do not seek one! I only need a mom-“

His declaration was interrupted by well-honed metal meeting his nail-claws. Parrying this onslaught of strikes took his entire concentration, though he did note that only two of his sisters had attacked this time.

“Stop, all of you! Let him say his piece.”

The clashing of weapons died down quickly. He kept his raised in defence for just a few more seconds before lowering them, looking at the oldest of the entire sisterhood.

“Perlama. It is good to see you have stayed reasonable.”

“Spare me your gratitudes, Cretoma!” The eldest mantis lord spat at him. Her venom was mirrored by the other two, who began to circle him. They surrounded him very nicely. All of them were aware that he could not win this duel.

Or rather, the entire battle, Cretoma corrected himself as he glanced towards his host. As ordered, they had kept a tight defensive formation and thus weathered the expected attack with minimal injuries. But they were still outnumbered two to one. And the warriors here were each other’s equal, making it a pure number’s game.

“Of course. I have come here not to fight you or any other mantis, my sisters, I have come here for the opposite actually.” Once again, he was interrupted, though thankfully not by metal but by words.

“You wish us to believe so, traitor!?” Tistina hissed at him, pointing her nail-lance at him. “Together we rose to lead our people, together we fought to hold our position! Never did any of us falter, never did any of us challenge the other! Yet you betrayed us and the tribe, for your own selfish gains!”

From the other side, Hymena the third sister raised her voice as well. “We agreed to the Pale Truce in unison. None of us opposed when you made clear the difference of your person to your body. Just as neither of us objected to Perlama’s choice of never taking a partner. Yet you broke this bond and-“

“I know!” He chastised himself in his own mind for bursting out like this. But this would lead to no good end for himself. “I know, I am very much aware of my faults, sisters. It is why I have come here after all. My betrayal was tainted by the dream plague, but I know that I embraced it willingly for the promise of power and strength.”

His nail-claws dug deep into the dirt, causing his sisters to immediately ready their attacks before realizing what he was doing. He hesitated however, his own claws still gripping the handles inside the forged metal, protesting against relinquishing them.

But, he had to do it. And he had to do it before bringing his proposal, to ensure they would listen and give him a chance.

And so, Cretoma, once Lord of the feared Mantis Tribe, left his weapons in the ground and raised his claws in a gesture of surrender.

The silence was deafening.

“I have realized the gravity of my mistakes, my dear siblings. And I have come here to seek my atonement. I will not fight you and neither will my warriors, as long as they do not come to harm. I mislead them and they followed because Mantis cherish loyalty as much as strength. Their sin is my sin and thus I am to be punished.” He could see the confusion, the disbelief, the anger on their faces. “But above all else, I wish you to spare my daughter. Kill me if you wish, you are more than justified to do so, but let her and my warriors return without harm. That is all I beg of you.”

And with that, he knelt before his sisters. This was where all plans stopped. Should they refuse, his warriors would all die here.

Not that his host was not aware, he had felt it his duty of telling them so. The shame he felt was shared by most of them and so they would see it as a fitting punishment. This was also why they would seek to follow his last wish.

He had to restrain himself not to glance towards the center, where he knew his daughter was surrounded by his praetorians and the entirety of the traitorous host. They would all die if it meant to bring her to safety, to have the praetorians lead her to the Pale King’s city and be safe there. It was the last resort.

“So be it then, Cretoma.” Perlama said with coldness in her voice. “You and your warriors have committed crimes that cannot be forgiven.”

He swallowed, preparing for the nails to pierce his body at any moment.

“However, you are willing to sacrifice yourself for your people.” Hymena spoke up. “The dream plague is gone, the Pale King confirmed this. Under circumstances, everything has to be evaluated.”

“You will face trial. As will your warriors.” Tistina continued, venom still lacing her voice, but she reigned in her want for violence. “Do not be a fool to think you will walk away from this. We simply grant you the gift of not dying right here, right now.”

He nodded; this was all expected after all. “And what of my Sibylli?” He asked carefully.

Again, they exchanged glances. Perlama spoke up again. “We will have to talk with your daughter. But, unless she changed drastically when away, we will not harm her.”

He Cretoma released his breath. His daughter would be safe. If it meant his death, then so be it.

He would sacrifice everything for his sweet Sibylli.

-o0o-

“Keep your eyes open and keep together!” The overseer shouted to the small column of bugs as they trudged forward. Above them, the few winged sentries were constantly circling and watching out for danger.

Many wondered if they would see the city again.

“You all know what to look for, you all know how to behave.” The overseer marched quickly between bugs, checking that everything was as ready as it could be.

When heading into Deepnest, this was all they could do to ensure survival.

Finally, they were at the hole another group had opened. At one nearby wall, a number of metal rings had been affixed, holding chains that laid downwards towards the most infamous area of all Hallownest.

In a moment of hesitation, the overseer glanced over to a couple of scholars. One of them, almost comically enlarged and floating above the hole, stared right back at him with disdain. The overseer swallowed. Working for the ‘Soul Sanctum’ brought in good amounts of geo, but this was… very unorthodox.

However, there was little choice for him or any of his workers. One did not so lightly refuse direct orders from Herallien himself.

“Alright bugs, remember all that was taught to you! The sooner we get those things out of there, the sooner we can go home! First group, descend!”

Vestidian watched as the workers slowly began to climb the affixed ladders down into Deepnest. From where he was floating, he could not make out the bottom of the hole, even though there were lanterns. Or there should be lanterns put up by the first expedition group. He had not checked in a while to see whether or not they still lived

Not that he cared much. All he needed were any soul totems from Deepnest. Should its occupants skitter all they wanted, he would get his prize and deliver it to the sanctum.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing, my Heart?” Wyrm asked his beloved wife. They were sitting in the small garden of the castle. It wasn’t the Queen’s Garden, but it was pleasant enough. And it was within walking distance of his office.

He was looking through documents. What she was doing, he had payed little attention to until now.

“Well, my Mind, I have been spending the last three weeks looking after our children and decided to take measures for their development.” Root explained calmly. She had put a rather brand new spider silk book on the table and was writing in it, flipping pages every now and then. “Every one of our children has their own page where I drew their head, it is one of the few things differentiating them so far. Among other things, I am deciding on their names. You could help me with that.”

Wyrm stopped with his own work to look at her. “And how exactly is this proceeding?”

She tapped her chin. “Well, so far I am restricted to making names according to their head shape. Occasionally, I managed to find some quirk that can have a good name with it.”

“I suppose I can see the reason behind it.” Wyrm replied. They continued to work for some while. Eventually, the two royals could see a few more bugs entering the gardens.

It was Hornet, followed by about half a dozen vessels. The void creatures had been told to play with her, but not follow any command that was dangerous to anyone. What exactly was considered as ‘dangerous’ was up to the vessels, Wyrm hoped to help them make their own decisions that way.

“Come my glo-glurios knights, we move to victory!” Hornet exclaimed with childish joy, brandishing a stick she had found somewhere. The vessels remained quiet as ever, easily keeping pace with her as they rushed through the gardens. Each of them had their nails secured on their back still. As they were trained in combat, they were allowed weapons, though for now the blades remained blunt. For safety.

Root chuckled mirthfully as she observed the display.

“Tell me Wyrm, did you see the child closest behind your daughter?”

“The one with the simple two-pronged horns?” Wyrm asked while watching the small troupe leave through another entrance, scaring a retainer who had been walking by.

“Yes, that one. I believe it might be the one that Hornet knocked over when she met her siblings.” Root turned a few pages in her ledger, opening the one where the aforementioned vessel was displayed. “I noticed them following her at every opportunity. What do you think about naming them Ghost?”

“I believe that would be fitting enough. Though, our… children, once they have gained enough will for their own, they should be able to decide whether they want the names we give to them.

“Of course, my mind. This is simply a step towards that.” They continued to work for some more time, Root inscribing the new name to one of her children. Nothing interesting happened for the next few minutes, with the exception of Ze’mer leading a dozen more vessels to nail drills.

Eventually however, Root stopped in her task, a somber look on her face. It took Wyrm a few minutes to notice, but when he did he immediately stopped to work himself.

“Root? What is bothering you?” He asked, putting his left hand on one of her branches and looking her into the eyes.

“I… I have thoughts that you would not appreciate, my monarch.” She replied, not breaking eye contact. He could see sadness in them.

“Perhaps, my lady. But we are equals and I will listen to what ails you.” He meant it. It was a promise they made to each other. They would always work together, always share what they thought and wanted.

“My thoughts wandered towards… her, my love. Is it fair to leave her like this to rot?”

Wyrm would have responded immediately and with fire in his voice, not directed at his wife of course, but at the subject of their discussion. However, he forced himself to remain calm, for it would be unfair towards his love.

“After all that she has wrought upon our kingdom? With what she forced us to do? It is more than fair, it is justified.” Still, he spoke with coldness, for anything less was unsuitable towards the once-god who had sought to drown their kingdom.

Root placed on branch atop his own hand. “We would be condemning her to a fate we share the guilt of consigning one of our children to.” Her remark certainly did not miss its mark, for they both still felt the pain of their actions and likely would for a long time still. 

Yet to acquiesce now would not be appropriate. It was the nature of their relationship to oppose and check each other’s ideas after all. “It would be more than fitting!”

“It would still be horrible!” She replied, matching his strength in tone.

They held eye contact for a full minute, neither backing down.

A stalemate it was then. It had been a while since their last one. The memory brought nostalgia to his mind. Standing up, he rounded the table to his wife and laid his head against her body. Her branches gently wrapped around him.

“You are too kind my Root.” It was a fact, not an accusation.

“You are too cold my Wyrm.” This one felt like one, however. Not that she would be wrong. It was their dynamic after all.

It did not mean that he couldn’t change his attitude towards something. Or that he should not on occasion. “…I simply do not know how proceed from now. It still seems unreal for it all to be just over, even after three weeks. And in our favor no less.”

“You said yourself, she seems to be powerless. Perhaps she can atone through different means?”

Wyrm sighed. “Perhaps she is able to. I do not know if she is willing, however.”

“When have you talked to her last?” His wife knew of course, he would never converse with their enemy and not let her know.

Still, she asked and so she wanted him to answer. “Three weeks, since the first time I spoke to her.”

He knew what she would say next and so he pre-empted her words.

“I will see that I will talk to her the next time I am able to.” He could feel her nod in agreement. “I will have to go now, my love. The mantises have sent one of their lords and I do not know what they desire this time.”

-o0o-

“Come on you maggots, move your asses!” The overseer shouted and by the King did he hope his own fear wasn’t heard.

The actual maggot-workforce had been too slow and… well at the very least they might distract their pursuers. For a bit.

He tried not to think about it too much at the moment. Even with them being maggots, it made him sick that they had to suffer this fate. But right now, he had to look out for himself and the rest of his workers.

“Move it bugs! You wanna live, put your backs into it!” The bugs pulling the cart did their best to move the heavy soul totem forwards. One of them slipped, exhaustion weighing down their limbs. They were pulled away and another bug shoved into their position.

The worker bugs could wish nothing more than to just drop everything and run towards the only lifeline they had. But they also all knew that arriving without their price would incur punishment just as severe as the fate they would face if they simply stopped and stood still.

“Almost there! Push! Push for your lives!” Their goal was in sight. The tram station connecting Deepnest to the Ancient Basin! They had been told not to use it, to avoid the eyes of the guards and all that, but he would be damned if he did not use every opportunity to bring his people out of this.

Those that could make it at least.

The doors to the tram were held wide open by two frantic looking soldiers of the sanctum. The totem barely fit through it as the cart all but rammed the gondola, the momentum serving to push almost half of the ancient stone thing through on its own. Immediately the cart was pulled away again while workers did their best to shove it inside, the threat of imminent death making them ignore exhaustion and injuries.

Chairs were ripped out and crushed, but it fit. And there was still space for them.

The overseer breathed heavily as he turned towards the cavernous halls from which they had arrived. Oh King, he could hear the skittering of the monstrosities of this hellscape coming closer.

“We got it! Everyone, get on!” The totem was in the tram. Immediately workers tried to press themselves inside as well, everyone caring only for themselves.

Then the first Dirtcarver skittered out of the dark and charged towards them, followed by a dozen more and then another dozen.

Sweat mixed with tears by now, but still the overseer shouted order and discipline, using his stick and claws to try and unclog the entrance of the tram and allow his workers to get inside. A few others picked up stones and tried to smash in the small windows and climb through.

One of them misjudged the opening he had made by a disastrous amount. Bleeding and screaming he stumbled back.

A Dirtcarver jumped forward and tore him to the ground.

The overseer pushed himself through the door. Time was up and they had to go. He closed the door, forcing them shut with his bare claws, leaving the rest outside. He did not look back.

“Start the damn thing already!”

Mechanisms groaned and churned heavily. For a horrible moment, he feared that the tram was overloaded. Then, it began to move. Damnably slow but it moved! If there was ever a time to thank the designs of the Archive, it certainly was now.

There were still workers outside, trying to run with the tram and jump onto it, to not be abandoned here. But the platform was small and already they were at the edge.

“Take my claw!” Holding one out of the last window, broken enough to allow someone to go through, the Overseer was able to grab one more of his workers just as the door passed the station’s edge. His arm screamed in protest as he heaved and pulled, saving one more. He still did not look back, pressing his head against the cold metal.

He did not need to see. Five good workers had been abandoned just now. In total, he had lost three quarters of his troop to Deepnest.

They passed the gate and as it closed, the horrible screams finally ceased.

Eventually he pulled the bug inside and turned, treated to the sight of the survivors’ horrible state. Almost all had tears running down their faces, most were numbly staring forward.

“We made it.” His voice was hoarse and dry like the ashes at the Kingdom’s Edge. “We are save now.”

Little could he know, deafened by the tram’s tortured metallic screeching, that Deepnest was not yet done with them. Great beasts, driven into a frenzy by their smaller comrades, began biting into solid stone to pursue the intruders.

-o0o-

“Greetings to you, Lord Perlama of the honourable Mantis Tribe.”

His voice cut through the throne room with the force of a mastercrafted nail, the chamber amplifying the sound and thus the authority four times.

“I greet thee, Pale King of Hallownest, and give my gratitude to have been received so swiftly by you.” Even for a Mantis Lord, it was difficult to not be impressed and affected by it. But Perlama had her own authority and she was hardened by discipline and determination.

The bow was quick and curt, just enough to show respect without showing supplication or weakness.

She despised this dance of formal gestures. Even at home she had to perform it, her siblings as well, but here everything was worse multiple times over.

“How fairs the Mantis Tribe?” The Pale King asked, the intensity in his tone having lessened but still remaining to an extent. There were only few retainers watching alongside a few royal guards, the Kingsmoulds, as well as two of the King’s personal Knights.

“We fair well. In recent days, some of Deepnest’s inhabitants skittered towards our domain. Feral pests and no more, dispatched without problem. This is the only news of importance that can be announced.”

Even still, the retainers murmured with each other in hushed but excited voices. Hymena had once theorized that these bugs didn’t actually speak but instead only made noises as if they did, another tactic of the Pale King to unsettle his visitors. Or 'annoy' them, as Hymena had said it.

“This is good to hear.” The King proclaimed. Then, surprising Perlama, he rose from his throne and descended the few stairs to the ground level. Ogrim and Isma fell into step right behind him as he approached the Mantis Lord. “Follow me through the gardens, Lord Perlama.”

Confused, the mantis obliged. The retainers and normal guards left the throne room onto their own business while the Kingsmoulds remained as stoic and still as ever.

They wandered through halls and more halls, pristine and modestly lavish, enough to impress but also project a sense of restraint, modesty, and efficiency. This, Perlama had seen a few times before.

What surprised her, once more on this single day, was when she passed a chamber where a duo of retainers were busy instructing… where those children?

About two dozen sat on simple cushions, all clad in the same rough cloak, their masks unique between every single one. The King passed by too quickly for Perlama to catch most of it but it had sounded like a lecture on the different areas of the Underground.

It was a peculiar sight to be sure. But then they entered the gardens.

Perlama had seen Hegemol before of course. The King’s Knights were well known in the Mantis Tribe and well respected, the exception being Ze’mer. Their strength and prowess could not be seen with anything less.

To witness Hegemol in the act of, what could only be, playing catch with a dozen children was very off-putting. And that was before Perlama noticed that these children were more of the cloaked figures.

While the towering bug chuckled and sounded generally playful as he swiped with his great hands to grab the small beings, they remained all eerily quiet. Perlama watched them dodge and dart around Hegemol’s hands, yet always within a close distance instead of running away. Perhaps a strange form of training?

The Pale King gently cleared his throat, pulling the Mantis Lord out of her observation. She followed him towards a table, though still she sneaked a glance here and there over her shoulder.

They sat down, facing each other. He opened the conversation, this time with far less force in his voice.

“Now then Perlama, it is rare that you or any of your siblings decide to come to my palace. This business must be of some importance to you.”

Perlama hesitated, glancing to the two Knights. This matter was highly sensitive and she could not allow a single hint of it escaping. The Pale King noticed her wariness and gestured to his bodyguards, both of which took ten steps away from the table, turning away.

She sighed, it was likely the extent of accommodation she would receive. Now it was up to her to take a leap of faith.

“It is a matter very important to me and my siblings, concerning one of our own. I have to request that your majesty do everything to keep the information regarding this contained and secret, for if it were to be known, disaster would surely follow.” She spoke in a hushed voice, her body straight as her nail-lance.

The King leaned forward with a slight nod. However, he was interrupted by the movement of Ogrim near them. Turning, they both saw what the bug had alerted them of, a royal guard buzzing towards them at great speed.

The bug landed only a few paces away from Ogrim, immediately kneeling and panting heavily. “Sire!” She called. “Urgent news from the Basin, Sire! I beg forgiveness for my intrusion!”

The Pale King stood calmly, gesturing for his guest to remain seated for now, as this was his matter to attend to. Perlama was more than happy to wait until bringing forth her proposition.

“What is the matter, guard.” He asked.

“We have been alerted of a breach, Sire! The Basin is target of an incursion from Deepnest!”

The chair was pushed so far back that it toppled and fell over on the ground, Perlama looking shocked as she stood. Isma and Ogrim immediately tensed up, moving closer to their liege again. The only one seemingly unaffected was the Pale King himself, looking at the royal guard with his cool, calculating gaze.

“Have the appropriate measures been put into effect already?” He said.

“Yes sir, evacuation towards either the palace or the bridge are underway already. The guard has been put on alert and flyers are scouting the immediate area. The tram has been locked down as well. But, sire…” The guard looked up from the ground, shaking from exertion but also nervousness.

“The Queen of Deepnest has left the palace upon hearing the news. She said that her child was still out there!”

-o0o-

Hornet found the Basin incredible…

Incredibly boring that is.

It was, well, rather drab. Everything was a different sort of grey, from the floor to the walls and to the ceiling. All stone grey. Even the little bits of vegetation seemed dry and grey.

Her siblings were not really of help in this. Simply because they were all rather colourless as well. To be honest, the only colourful thing was her own red cloak. But that did not help her right now.

It only mattered because it made journeying through the caverns incredibly boring.

Totally not because she was lost.

That was definitely not the reason. She knew where she was going! It… simply took her some time!

…

Atleast she was fairly certain to have never been in this particular cavern. That was good, right? It meant progress!

Oh wait, wasn’t she trying to walk back to the castle? That would mean she wanted to find caverns she knew she had been in already, didn’t it?

Ugh, this was annoying!

Hornet needed a break and took the next best boulder to climb upon and sit. The vessels simply imitated her and sat all around her, staring blankly ahead. The exception was the one sibling who seemed to have decided to follow her around whenever her mama brought her to the castle. Hornet had never gotten an answer to her asking for a name, so she had started to call them Bee.

Mama had once explained the namesake race of Hornet, a rather fierce civilization of bugs in another land, and their similarities to the somewhat tamer bees near Hallownest. And since they were siblings, and she was evidently way fiercer than any of them, it all just made sense to Hornet. Though even she was aware that not all could be called Bee. But making nicknames and remembering which sibling was who was still difficult. Bee was easy, because Bee followed her everywhere.

“Any of you see something interesting?” Hornet asked sluggishly. She had not even counted how many times this question had been put forth by herself, without ever getting any results.

So, it surprised her greatly when one of her siblings gently tugged at her red cloak.

The small creature had five small horns protruding from its head like a halo, which was the only distinctive feature separating them from the rest, like it was with every vessel. Hornet decided in that moment to nickname them Halo, for now at least.

The newly christened Halo pointed one black claw towards a tunnel nearby. At first Hornet saw nothing and wanted to tell her sibling thusly. But, it was the first time any of them had had reacted in such a way, even claiming to have found something. Also, it was something to do in the boredom.

As Hornet strained her eyes, she could actually make out… a door?

“Follow me, siblings!” She called and jumped off the boulder with renewed energy, Bee the first to follow as always.

Approaching the spot, Hornet could see that it was indeed a door, covered in dust and blending in well with the surroundings. It was imposing, it was… exciting.

“Good job Halo! Now then, let us see what we have found here!” Her adventurous spirit had returned after several hours. Hornet pressed herself against the door to open it only to find a distinctive lack of opening door.

Then she herself moved instead, as the door was pushed outwards. A small shriek escaped her out of surprise, but Hornet was able to jump back and see who had answered her attempted entry.

A Kingsmould loomed above her, glaring with white eyes and clutching its weapon tightly. It stared at her and her posé with a blank look. Hornet stared back and noticed the faintest tilt of the spiked head of the guard to the side, as if it was confused by her presence.

“Hi! Can I see what is in there?” Mama had told her to be polite to bugs. Well, Mama also did not like Kingsmoulds, but that didn’t mean that Hornet had to forget her manners around them.

The Kingsmould simply continued to stare at the small child in front of it. Its weapon was not held with as much strength as before, as there was evidently no threat around. After a moment of absolute stillness, the Kingsmould raised one claw and laid it across its chest in a salute it usually reserved for the royal couple. However, it had been instructed, like all Kingsmoulds, that this little one was of the King’s blood and thus royalty as well.

“Sooo… can I now?” Hornet asked again. As no answer came, she attempted to peer passed the Kingsmould, seeing only a long corridor and another door with another of these guards. Trying to slip past the one in front of her proved fruitless however, as the creature immediately side-stepped to block her way.

“Oh, come ooooon,” She whined because that usually worked when she made her puppy eyes. “I just wanna do something and this seems interesting! I wanna see what is here!”

The Kingsmould was in a predicament. Royalty gave commands and it was instructed to follow said commands. Anything else was unthinkable. However, the King had not allowed anyone except himself, his wife, or his knights to enter without expressed allowance or when accompanied by one of the aforementioned individuals. This was a conflict it did not know how to resolve, mostly because it usually never had to decide something on its own.

Luckily for it, the Kingsmould was saved from having to make a decision, as the ground began to shake.

-o0o-

How long had it been since the Wyrm had been in here?

Time passed faster than she liked and yet not at all. At least that was how it felt. Sometimes she would find herself having slipped into sleep, or her mind simply shut down on her, only to shoot awake an undetermined amount of time later.

Sometimes she wished the Wyrm had left something to measure the passed time at. Other times she was glad he did not.

It tended to fluctuate on how put together she was, although at this point she wasn’t sure which option would preserve her sanity more.

The only company were the half dozen void-constructs. And they stretched the word heavily, for they were truly like statues.

Well, not completely. She had passed considerable time staring at those in view, long enough at least to observe certain… quirks.

True, these things were void of emotion, will, and all that. But there were hints here and there of habits and such things. One of them had started to ignore whenever she awoke with a start, especially after a nightmare. The rest always took to an alert stance then settled back down when she did nothing else.

Another one tended to flex its grasp on its weapon regularly. And yet another one was sometimes letting its normally rigid arms sway a bit.

Overall, it wasn’t much of course, but simply small imperfections in creations that had been intended as completely empty of any such notions. Any satisfaction over Wyrm’s flawed work had stopped after… not that long really. Now, observing these constructs was just one more mindless activity.

Better than the nightmares. Everything was better than that.

Sadly, as a… no, she would not acknowledge herself as mortal.

Due to the curse of this realm, she could not stay awake all the time and thus occasionally fell into sleep. And these periods of sleep were always short for nightmares haunted her all the time.

She dreamed of fighting against the void creature. Of losing to it and being dragged down.

She dreamed of her own death.

It didn’t seem to get any easier to process.

At one point, her construct-guards had been exchanged by a fresh group. It had been interesting for all of a moment, until the new arrivals took the same guard spots and monotony continued.

The same thing happened a long while later, so she had decided to start measuring that, hoping Wyrm waited the same time between these shifts. And she hoped that she had missed none in her sleep.

The Radiance sighed.

At this point, her whole body had long grown numb. Over a period of unknown time, her limbs had been all prickly and aching, not even the aching of when she had woken up! Maybe. Who could tell.

There was also this enormous pit in her torso area. She had no idea why this was, but she also didn’t let herself care. Most likely another curse of this realm. Her mouth felt dry as well.

 Oh, how much she hated this. But, well, nothing to be done. She sighed again.

Hanging on chains in the air, more or less perfectly still, the Radiance immediately felt the slow trembling of the ground.

At first however, she had thought nothing of it. Or more precisely, she had thought it to have been caused by her own accursed body.

When the trembling did not recede however, indeed it slowly grew stronger and stronger until the constructs noticed as well, it came to her mind that this was from outside.

Had the Radiance been of clearer mind and more attuned to the material realm, she might have concluded that this could only have originated by one or more massive creatures moving through the caverns nearby. Or alternatively, of several creatures burrowing their way through solid rock. She might have also panicked at the thought that these things were steadily coming closer.

But as it was, there was only curiosity at this new phenomenon that had so mercifully broken her boredom.

Which was why, when the first Garpede broke through the walls of the short hallway connecting the chamber to the rest of the basin, the once mighty Radiance shrieked.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Hornet cried as she saw her protector die.

They had been pulled into the ravaged chamber, as outside roamed packs of Dirtcarvers that made any escape attempt hopeless. The alternative did not seem to be much better though.

Even with one arm, the Kingsmould that had stood alone before her and her siblings, against the creatures that wanted to devour her, had fought on as best as it could. But it had been brought low and torn apart by a veritable swarm of Deepnest bugs and she had not been able to do anything.

A similar fate had befallen the other last two Kingsmoulds as well, even though they each fought to the last moment, hacking away relentlessly and protecting her with their lives. This had bought her and her siblings precious moments. But it seemed their luck had run out.

Now it was only her and her six siblings.

Halo had been injured in the arm as they had prevented another one of their siblings being jumped and possibly killed. Now, they were being held by Hornet behind the timid line of the other five vessels.

They had driven the Dirtcarvers back, however. Only about ten skittered around the chamber. Half of them had lost interest in the small huddle at the wall in favour of feasting on the corpses already piled up. The other half stayed outside of the range of the vessel’s blunt nails, having learned their danger from the Kingsmoulds.

However, they still took swipes here and there, testing the defences and getting bolder by the minute. Eventually, they would overcome their prey.

Hornet cradled Halo and watched as another Dirtcarver abandoned its attack to dodge Bee’s nail. She held her injured sibling more for her own sake, as the vessel would have likely still been able to stand for themselves.

Even as one of them had just fallen back, another one of the predators prepared to make an attack. To make things worse, another two Dirtcarvers had tried to eat one of the Kingsmoulds, only to find its body to be black goo instead of flesh. Angry, they turned to the still moving creatures to satiate their appetite.

Then, suddenly, another Dirtcarver flew towards the small group. It was an impressive leap from behind a bigger piece of debris, but it seemed that the bug had miscalculated and hit the stone wall instead of its targets.

A sickening crack sounded out as its skull caved in and it fell down to the ground. Both the Dirtcarvers and their prey seemed to be confused for a moment.

Then another of the Deepnest bugs flew over the rocks in the room, smacking at the wall with the flat of its back. It landed, still alive but badly hurt by the impact. A second later, a blunt metal nail was hammered into the base of its skull by Halo, who had pushed off their sister to ensure the kill.

A chittering filled the air, followed by a sudden squeak. Heavy impacts sounded out until the squeaking was silenced. The bugs that had preyed upon the small group of children turned, raising their heads to try and discern what was happening.

Hornet attempted to do the same, only to gasp at what she saw.

Coming into their field of view was the same tall, white-ish figure that she had seen flee this chamber before. Fresh blood was all over their body, a strange bright orange in colour, the source obvious as the bug dragged a limp Dirtcarver in one of their four claws.

As this newcomer stalked towards the small crowd, another of Deepnest’s pests jumped onto them and bit into the fur with its mandibles. Its prey however retaliated quickly, charging towards the wall and angling their body to smash the offending bug against the stone.

The critter released its grip and hit the floor, a moment later its head was crushed as the figure stomped on it viciously. Immediately, the rest of the Dirtcarvers swarmed forward to bring down this new threat, chittering angrily.

Hornet and her siblings watched the display of violence that unfolded. Their strange saviour did not fight with experience and efficiency as the Kingsmoulds had. Instead, they relied on strength and endurance. The smashed bug in their grip was used to bludgeon the opposition, the three remaining hands punching or grabbing anything within range. Multiple times they hurled themselves against the wall to hit one or more enemies that had jumped onto them, cracking their bodies upon the hard stone.

With every killed Dirtcarver, more injuries began to pile up and even though this newcomer grunted and gasped in pain every time, they did not relent. Finally, the last critter was dead, grabbed by the tail and swung multiple times onto the ground.

There was silence.

She breathed heavily from the exertion, the adrenaline from the fight wearing off by now. The thought came up in the back of her head that maybe, maybe she should have taken one of the weapons before attacking the Dirtcarvers. Then again, she didn’t know how to use any of them. It did not matter though; the pests were dead.

Turning, she looked over the group she had just saved. Having… that one, looking at her was still uncomfortable, the memories of her death lingering in her mind even now. However, what these vessels had all gone through was just as present. She could do her best to ignore it for now.

She breathed deeply, hoping that it came across as caused by her efforts and not because she had to build up her courage to be near them again. That being said, she actually felt tired, setting one hand on the wall to steady herself for a moment. Fighting seemed to have taken a lot from her body. Hopefully this would have been it for today. 

“Are… are you okay?” A timid voice asked into the quiet room.

She had forgotten that one of the small ones was actually capable of speaking. Then again, that one was wearing a red cloak instead of the rough cloth the rest had been given. She also faintly remembered this one, or at least an older version, darting around the ruins of the kingdom for years and years.

“Yes,” She simply responded and oh, did speaking feel uncomfortable. Perhaps some dust had made it inside of her throat? She had been in this forsaken place for quite some time, even though she did not know how long exactly.

Putting the thought aside she stepped towards the group, only to instinctually flinch as that one took a protective step in front of their sister, the nail not raised but at the ready.

“Bee! She saved us!” The girl whined.

A strange sound made Hornet perk up. Confused, the small bug looked around before realizing her saviour was the source of it. They… were they chuckling? Was anything funny? She didn’t get it but, that didn’t mean anything bad, did it?

“Eheh ehem.” Finally, she got hold of herself. She wasn’t even sure why, the name had simply caused her to fall into this reaction. Perhaps it was all the stress finally catching up with her.

“You are right. I am here to save you.” She approached the group, now unchallenged by their nails. “Lucky you.”

“Do you know how to get back to the palace?” Hornet asked the looming bug. Then, however, her mind came to a strange conclusion. This bug had been in a room with some of father’s Kingsmoulds, and she seemed to share their white aesthetic. That could only mean that she also worked for her father. And Hornet had not introduced herself!

Perhaps it was her mind grasping onto familiar things to cope with all of the past hour. Nevertheless, she had been taught strictly by her mama to be courteous and so she made to introduce herself. “I-I’m Hornet! That is Bee, Halo, and the rest don’t have names yet, but Aunt Root says she is still working on it.”

She nodded, more to placate Hornet than anything. Her limbs were still heavy and the sight of the smashed bugs made her belly growl and rumble for some reason, which was its first activity since she had become used to its perpetual pit-like feeling. However long ago that had started.

Turning she waved one arm to get the small group to follow her outside. “Alright then, move behind me and be careful. Maybe we will be lucky and- “

“What is your name?”

Funny how such an innocent question could catch her off guard.

It did bring up a good point, how would she call herself from now on? She was not a god anymore, her title was not appropriate, at best. At worst she imagined that some bugs would realize her true nature. But then, what else should she be called, other then ‘the Radiance’? What else could fit her?

So deep in thought was she, that she did not notice Hornet gently tapping her long leg.

“Radia.” She all but spurted out. “…Radia will suffice.”

-o0o-

Their feet dragged over the dusty stone ground. Exhaustion was visible even in the vessels, as they marched forward with bowed heads and dragging their legs with every step. Hornet did likewise, thankfully not voicing her tiredness. She had asked Radia to be carried at one point but had been refused.

Radia had run this stretch twice after all, followed by smashing nearly a dozen bugs with her own claws. She was actually wounded from all of them, apart from Halo, and thus did not feel like carrying even more weight.

Also, she had thought that getting to the palace would take much less time as it seemed to take. But she would not admit being wrong in front of Hornet and the vessels.

Finally, they seemed to reach the crossroad where Radia had seen the metal, she assumed to have been an indication of an exit. Purposefully, she simply turned left and headed towards that direction.

Somewhere in her mind, the thought occurred that this could simply turn out to be a fluke, a false hope. It was a good thing that the rest of her was too tired to actually think about it. As far as she was concerned, she had made the right choice the first time at this crossroad.

Or the second time rather. The actual first time she had run through with no thought spared.

Anyway, she figured they would eventually find something to orient themselves from. Perhaps taking a small break there and then move on. Important was only that she did not give the small ones the impression that she had no idea where she was going at the moment.

“Miss Radia, I am tired.” Hornet groaned.

“Yes well, so am I.” Mentally, the moth chastised herself. The answer was too sharp than it should have been, this was only a child after all. So, she quickly followed it up to prevent any escalation. “We can take a break in a bit.”

No need to tell her that Radia would use that break to try and spot a path back to… well, somewhere with bugs. Those could probably lead her to the Pale King. She remembered that he had his castle in this area, probably, so it should be around. She simply didn’t know the dimensions of the Ancient Basin.

Behind her Hornet trudged along with her head almost hanging limply on her tiny body. But she did not speak up again and so they progressed further ahead.

It occurred to Radia that she was surprisingly worried for the child of her arch foe. And she still detested the Pale King, probably would for a long time if not forever. His intrusion into this realm had brought her to unleash the Infection after all and then everything… went crazy quickly.

The vessels she could only find sorrow and pity for, after seeing how their fate had been decided. And guilt that she was the cause for it.

Hornet though? She was also a product of her rampage and the Wyrm’s response but she didn’t have that much of a horrendous childhood. Right?

Well, she actually didn’t really know. All she did remember from the other… life? Reality?

Ugh, not worth thinking about right now. It made her already tired brain hurt and would not change anything anyway. Not like she would want to return, if she even could.

Anyway, from what Radia remembered of Hornet, the bug had been a lone sentinel in the corpse of the kingdom. She protected and contained it, hunting husks and such. Eventually, she had helped the vessel that ultimately… killed her.

Radia simply ended the line of thought right then and there.

The actual matter was that she did not want Hornet to come to harm at the moment. The bug was but a child and did not do anything to the moth in this world.

She focused her attention outwards, remembering that there might still be hostile bugs hunting in these caverns. She could not afford a blunder right now. Fortunately, they seemed to be safe still. And the metal was coming more into focus before her.

It was… a bench?

Peculiar and not very helpful to orient herself.

On the other hand, she knew that benches were intended to sit down and rest. A wonderful opportunity, and so close now as well.

“See? We can sit down and rest. Never doubt me little Hornet.” Radia said out loud, allowing smugness to fill her voice. With a bit of renewed vigor she climbed the last bit towards the simple metal construct and laid two of her claws on the cold material.

“Now then, take some m-“ She stopped. The metal was vibrating. A familiar sensation that made her fur rise up and stand on edge.

She turned, directing her gaze here and there in fear and paranoia. Unaware of all this, Hornet and the vessels were in the process of trying to climb upon the bench.

Then, halfway to the crossroad they had left behind, a wall exploded outwards. Emerging from it came only a single creature, a Garpede.

No, the Garpede, the one that had breached and rampaged her prison cell. She could see where it was wounded from that fight. And it was looking directly at them with its remaining eyes. Even from this distance, she was able to feel the primal fury upon her.

“Everyone, run!”

Adrenaline and the fear of death worked wonders, as her four arms snatched up Halo, Hornet, and two other vessels and began to run away from the monstrosity hunting them all. The rest followed suit as fast as they could, the uninjured vessels in her arms struggling until she released them so that they were able to run alongside her.

She had a sinking feeling that it would not be enough as she heard the Garpede charging after them. Its angry chitter was getting louder frightfully fast.

-o0o-

Metal tore carapace and cut apart flesh in a dance of death.

Hundreds of bugs had been slain by them, their corpses littering the ground and their blood coating everything in a sickly silver-gray gloss.

A roar cut through the air as a Garpede snapped at its enemy. This one was younger than the rest, smaller, yet no less ferocious. And it was engaging only one foe.

Herrah dodged the razor sharp mandibles easily, grabbing the front first legs of the millipede and grinding it to a halt. With a wordless warcry, she pushed the creature upwards to expose the weak underbelly. In her remaining limbs, two long needles flashed and cut into the Garpede, gutting it. The creature screeched in pain, but the Beast’s grip proved stronger, leaving her prey unable to fight back as its entrails began to leave its body.

Perlama had to admit that the Queen of Deepnest was a terrifying fighter. Sure, she herself and her sisters were also quite well versed in how to deal with the Deepnest pests. They could also each take down a Garpede on their own, yet none of them were able to do that so easily as Herrah had just done. Even with a young one.

Garpedes had to be fought with speed and coordination. They were tough beasts and even their flesh was durable, so you had to strike many wounds at vital places before they would finally fall. This one was spared a slow death by a rather fast one, though the amount of cuts still seemed to be the same.

I wish I knew where the Beast procured her weapons. Perlama admitted to herself in her thoughts. But then she focused back fully on the task at hand.

The Deepnest incursion had thus far only inflicted a few casualties, a blessing of the barren Basin. The downside was that the pests were spread widely and thus had to be hunted down with effort, though thankfully they seemed to be drawn by the sound of battle.

In response, the Pale King had assembled his constructs and formed three columns with one of his knights at the head of each of them. Dryya and Isma stayed back to guard the King and Queen overseeing the operation, while the three strike forces marched forward to clear out the Basin.

Wingmoulds soared through the air to provide reconnaissance, which essentially just meant that they would find Deepnest bugs and lure them towards the main forces.

The few Carver Hatchers that had found their way into the stale Basin air were quickly taken down by winged Royal Guards or the champions accompanying them. Perlama had caught glimpses of Ogrim swatting the disgusting creatures out of the air with boulders, she herself had reached them with her superior reach and acrobatic skills.

Dirtcarvers were slaughtered by the dozens. The few Garpedes that had brought them here were tougher to take down, but every column had expert fighters with them. Perlama was certain that every single one of the King’s Knights was able to take down one of the great millipedes on their own, supported by Kingsmoulds they would have no problem.

Perlama herself was moving between the different fronts to engage the strongest throngs of enemies. Herrah meanwhile was ahead of the middle column, wading through swarms and leaving behind floors of ripped flesh.

The Beast was searching for her daughter and woe to those in her way.

Perlama was cleaning a small hill in the massive cavern the middle column was slogging through, leaving about twenty Dirtcarvers soaking the ground with their ichor. She observed the state of things.

Herrah was leaving the Garpede, still alive yet completely helpless, on the ground to die on its own as she already charged the only other millipede in this cavern.

Behind them, the column advanced at a steady pace. Dirtcarvers broke upon them like wind against a stone wall, their fresh corpses being stamped into the ground by dozens of feet. In front of them, a ridge lead the way towards more cavernous space and likely more bugs to kill.

And here Perlama had expected the meeting to be an uncomfortable affair. If only her sisters could have been here.

She advanced forward, leaping over swarms of Dirtcarvers and slicing up any that came too close to her. It was the column’s job to cut down the chaff, the Mantis Lord desired to take the ridge and see what was ahead.

Herrah meanwhile was more or less butchering the Garpede, having already immobilized half a dozen of the creature’s legs and now turning the face into minced meat.

Best not to get too close to that, the Beast might get ‘overzealous’.

Perlama advanced onto the ridge, piercing the couple Dirtcarvers on it on her nail-lance. With no enemies near her, she let her gaze wander over the cavern in front of her. Surprisingly, she could spot only a few scattered Dirtcarvers skittering around. Perhaps this was to be expected, the swarm was not endless and they had killed many already…

A flash of movement caught her eye. Running out from a tunnel, Perlama saw a bit of red. About half a dozen figures were running out of the tunnel, sprinting as if they were being chased by something. Out of instinct, the Mantis Lord leaped forward and ran towards them.

Her guts were validated as a Garpede burst out of the tunnel after the group, roaring with anger and pursuing them. She increased her own speed, almost flying over the ground with her nail-lance lowered already.

It was a contest at this point, who could reach the other faster.

They were almost on a line by now, the group of runners in the middle between a rampaging Garpede and a charging Mantis Lord. As she approached rapidly, Perlama was able to somewhat make out the bugs she was attempting to rescue.

Most of them seemed to be some of these strange children she had seen in the palace. The only tall individual she was unfamiliar with, they looked similar to what Hymena had once described a moth looked like. And in their arms, they carried another child and the red bundle… That is Herrah’s daughter!

She was almost on them. The Garpede lunged forward and so did she.

The children threw themselves to the side and out of the way. The moth still ran forward and so Perlama had to jump over the other’s considerable height. Yet she did, planting one foot on the moth’s shoulder to push herself forward and the runner to the side. Then, she was face to face with the Garpede.

A second later, she was more face to face with a Garpede than she had ever desired to be. Her nail had been aimed at one of the creature’s eyes and had burrowed itself almost two thirds of its length inside, as the Garpede’s own lunge helped in impaling itself.

Fortunately for the Mantis Lord, the creature she had slammed into was too struck by her attack to bite into her with its mandibles. Unfortunately, she still slammed with heavy force into a tram of a bug, having all her air knocked out of her body and carried forward by the still charging millipede.

It had been the fastest way to safe the other bugs, she had known the risk and taken it. She just had to hope it was enough.

Radia did not feel like standing up. She was tired. She had been bitten and bruised, hunted and now shoved around. And all that after spending who-knew-how-long suspended in the air. Hornet was whimpering, enveloped by all four arms and wings of the moth as Halo had fallen out of her grip. Ironically, the vessel seemed to have taken the fall the best, or perhaps they simply did not show their current state.

Behind them, chitin ground against stone as the Garpede was dragged over the ground by its own velocity.

Finally, it stopped. Radia sighed, breathing in and out. Then, she started the horrible process of standing up again, still holding Hornet with atleast two arms.

The millipede lay still and dead. At its front, the Mantis Lord was slowly peeling herself of its face. The collision seemed to have taken quite a bit out of her. Their eyes met.

“Y-you… know where… palace?” It was all Radia could bring out between heaving breaths. She was almost yearning for her prison arrangement where she did not have to run all the time. Almost.

“Yes, I do.” Perlama responded, steadying herself with the corpse of the monster so she wouldn't embarass herself. The lance was still stuck deeply inside the eye of the Garpede. “However, others are following me closely behind. We do not have to move at the moment.”

Even the vessels seemed to be glad at the news, each of them trudging next to Radia and sitting down on the ground. The moth followed suit, letting her heavy limbs drag the rest of her body down.

“Also,” The Mantis Lord spoke as she pointed at Hornet. “This one’s mother is almost here and I assume she will be glad to know her daughter is safe.”

Hornet perked up from half-sleep. Then, they all heard a loud roar coming from the ridge. Upon it stood a towering figure wielding two long weapons. The next moment, Herrah the Beast was charging towards them at breakneck speed.

Perlama wisely moved out of the way, hoping absentmindetly that the moth she had just rescued wouldn’t be eviscerated in the next moment. However, her concerns were unfounded as the Queen of Deepnest came to a stop right in front of the bug carrying her child.

“Hornet! Are you safe my child, are you injured!?” Her needles clattered to the ground as six limbs at once tried to get hold of her child. Radia did not resist, only offered Hornet as the small spider was reaching her own short arms towards her mother.

Her mumblings were unheard under Herrah’s rambling, a mixture of fury and worry, as the child was inspected for injury. Eventually it became clear that Hornet was only suffering from a thick coat of dust and exhaustion and so her mother was reduced to holding her precious daughter tightly.

Radia was watching the display numbly. It proved a good distraction from her own injuries. The Dirtcarvers had only gotten in some bites and scratches, nothing too deep, atleast she thought so. Still, there had been no moment of respite since… a lot had happened.

But the mantis had said that they were safe, right? If Radia strained her eyes, she could see white forms cresting the ridge, so that was good, probably.

Carefully, she let herself lie on the floor. Her wings were providing her a minimum of comfort on the hard ground, not that she minded in the first place.

Her eyes were growing heavy and she let them. Vaguely, she felt one of the vessels approaching her.

“mmm, maybe later…” She slurred. A moment later, unconsciousness took her.

 -o0o-

The incursion was over. Casualties amongst his subjects were only a handful of unfortunate bugs, mostly guards, that had been caught by the swarms. The retaliation force only counted some injured Kingsmoulds, which would recover rather quickly once he had time to repair them.

Hornet and the vessels that had been with her were just exhausted for the most part, one of them had taken an injury but it wasn’t anything truly threatening.

The Kingsmoulds in the prison chamber however were a lost cause, an unfortunate loss, yet their sacrifice had saved his children.

Which brought Wyrm to the being currently on a stretcher headed towards the palace.

The Radiance had escaped. That was a problem.

But, according to Perlama and Herrah, she had been carrying Hornet while running from a Garpede.

It was a difficult situation, as he needed to wait for his daughter to recover enough to tell him what happened. Well, the vessels had also likely witnessed it all, but he wasn’t sure whether or not they would communicate it sufficiently. They were still developing after all.

The situation was complicated. Of course.

“I do apologize for the interruption.” He said politely to Perlama, the Mantis Lord standing next to him and cleaning her weapon.

“I did not mind much myself.” She replied. “My condolences for your subjects.”

He nodded and looked after the Radiance as she was brought towards his home. “I am afraid we will have to delay our conversation for a bit. There are quite a few things to be handled.”

-o0o-

The overseer could feel the piercing gaze of the Soulmaster. He still wasn’t sure how they had managed to make it here.

When they had reached the bridge, masses of bugs were being evacuated by guards. Luckily for them, an empty cart near the tram station had enabled the transportation of the totem under a thin blanket. Bugs had not paid too much attention in the general panic.

Still, to have reached the sanctum with everything had been nothing short of a miracle after a disaster.

“I hope you are aware of how much attention your stunt has generated.” Now it seemed, disaster was the order of the day again.

He did not reply however, nothing he could do would help. He had seen the anger of the Soulmaster more often than he had wished.

“However, you did retrieve this wonderful piece for me.” Herallien’s voice switched to an almost kind tone as he trailed a claw over the black stone. “So, I think you deserve a reward.”

Numbly, the overseer nodded. Inwardly, he prayed to his King and Queen.

“I think for your efforts, as well as your great display of endurance and strength,” Herallien stopped for dramatic effect, letting his gaze wonder over the few remaining workers and guards.

“You will have the great honour of assisting us in our research, so that we may accomplish our grand goal.”

End of Act 1 "Mortality"

Chapter Text

Dramatis Personae

(The) Radiance - Former Goddess of the moth tribe, former creature of the Dreamscape, Higher Being and now new denizen of Hallownest, more commonly known now as Radia

(The) Wyrm - Co-Ruler of the Kingdom of Hallownest and a Higher Being, known also as the Pale King, the White Monarch, married to Root

(The) Root - Co-Ruler of the Kingdom of Hallownest and a Higher Being, known also as the White Lady, the Pale Queen, married to Wyrm

Monomon "the Teacher" - Head Researcher of the Teacher's Archive

Lurien "the Watcher" - Steward of Hallow, the capital of Hallownest

Herrah "the Beast" - Queen of Deepnest and the Weavers, Mother of Hornet

Hornet - Princess of Deepnest and the Weavers,  daughter of Wyrm and Herrah

Dryya "the Fierce" - First Knight of Hallownest and personal Knight of the Pale Queen

Hegemol "the Mighty" - Second Knight of Hallownest

Isma "the Kind" - Third Knight of Hallownest

Ogrim "the Loyal" - Fourth Knight of Hallownest

Ze'mer "the Mysterious" - Fifth Knight of Hallownest, a stranger to the lands of Hallownest

Herallien "the Soul Master" - Master of the Soul Sanctum, Head in Soul Research

Perlama - Eldest of the Mantis Lords

Tistina - Closest to Cretoma

Hymena - Most martial of the Mantis Lords

Cretoma - Branded as the Traitor Lord

Sibylli - Daughter of Cretoma the Traitor Lord

The Vessels - Born from the union of Wyrm and Root, shaped with the power of the Void, learning to become beings of their own

Xero - Knight vying for the position of Pale Champion

Lunia - Moth seer, last vestage of the Old Faith

Act 2 'Humility' 

Chapter 10: New Home, Old Grudges

The rulers of Hallownest were observing the work of their employees in the medical wing of the palace. The injuries of the incursion, Kingsmoulds not counting, were being taken care of by the castle staff. That was in the main part of the infirmary however, they were currently standing in one of the more secluded medical rooms.

Before them, about four bugs were busy tending to their patient, a tall moth-like creature. They had already bathed her to get rid of dirt and blood, of which there had been copious amounts of. At the moment, the staff was finishing their examinations and started to apply their medical proficiency.

The doctor was giving the rulers a report. “Her injuries are mostly superficial, though they seem to have been open long enough for blood loss to start to affect her. More concerning are the signs of malnutrition, I would estimate that she has not eaten for about three days, dehydrated for about a full day, and shows signs of strong exhaustion. Overall, she should recover from her wounds within the week, but I strongly suggest that she remains in care for that time so that her eating and sleeping can be supervised for optimal recovery.”

The Pale King nodded simply, dismissing the doctor and continuing to observe his enemy. Former enemy? Things were… uncertain. They had been for some time, and it greatly displeased him.

He and his wife observed the Radiance closely. She was awake in a sense, though clearly very much affected by her experiences over the last day. Her eyes, like molten pools of gold, were barely open and foggy as she seemed to struggle to remain awake. She did not resist the efforts of the infirmary staff, letting them clean and wrap her cuts in bandages and treating her bruises with salves and other medicines. Not once did she say a word, at most, she faintly grumbled.

The King glanced towards his wife. “My Root,” He said quietly so that the staff may not hear. “You are glaring quite strongly at her.”

“Yes, I am.”

Ogrim and Isma, dutifully flanking the King and Queen respectively, could not stop themselves from flinching at the ice-cold anger in the voice of their beloved Queen.

Wyrm himself showed no reaction, though he still felt a chill on his back. Rare were the times when Root became truly furious. But they were still intense enough to linger in the minds of those who had the misfortune of witnessing even one.

“Perhaps we should go and leave them to their work.” Wyrm said diplomatically, though he did not attempt to move before his wife made her decision. Wordlessly she turned around and strode out of the room and down the halls.

They walked side by side in silence for multiple hallways until they reached their more private part of the castle. Root stopped by one of the many rooms that had been repurposed to host lessons for their children. Right now, this one was occupied by two dozen small figures and a bug attempting to teach them sign language.

“You must think me hypocritical, to speak of giving her a second chance but then staring with deadly intent upon her.” Root spoke as she observed the efforts of their children.

“I do not.” Wyrm replied, though perhaps too quiet for her to hear. He admonished himself. His wife wasn’t even angry with him!

“Seeing her myself… I underestimated how strong my hate was towards her, towards everything that she caused us to do. Even now, when things are becoming better and we can maintain our kingdom, our family, without her threat… It does not extinguish what she already wrought.”

“That it certainly does not, my love.” He said and reached up with his arm to loop it in hers. “And you are right in everything. I also do not want to simply forgive her for what she done. The fact remains sadly, she is out of her prison, and she seems to have saved seven of our children from certain death.”

“I know.” Root sighed. They walked through the halls in quiet until she spoke up again. “Looking past our dislike towards her…”

“Which still remains fully justified.” Wyrm chimed in. His wife simply nodded.

“… this does present a good chance at trying to get her to atone. As well as keeping her under more close watch.”

“That it does, my Heart.” He replied. Finally, they reached one of their private rooms and told the two Knights to enjoy their own time. Ogrim and Isma simply remained outside the doors. They took their duties very seriously, all the Knights did, perhaps too seriously sometimes. But after a Deepnest incursion, they would not stay away from their majesties.

The two knights did sit down at a nearby bench, still within eyesight of the door of course.

Inside, both Wyrm and Root were under no illusion of what their knights were doing with their ordered “free time”.

“Perhaps we should tell our knights the truth of all the things. It would be better for them to know about where our children came from and who will be staying at our palace.” Root said while sitting down on a chair and getting comfortable. Wyrm remained standing.

“They also overheard our conversation just now.” He simply stated. When his wife looked at the ground, her cheeks tinted a faint pink of embarrassment at having let so much slip in her rant, he gently grasped her hand in his.

“We both spoke of these things in front of them. It does not matter anyway, either they remain loyal, or they finally begin to step away from their unending devotion.”

“I thought you valued their loyalty?” Root said, unable to stop the teasing tone to become apparent.

Wyrm smiled lightly in return. “Well, I do. I simply wished they would relax every now and again. Ogrim for example fought today and yet he continues to perform to their high bar of standard.”

They chuckled. It was good, to relieve some of the stress of today with some light humor.

-o0o-

It had been a battle up a mountain to not fall asleep when being washed. And she had lost that battle multiple times, dozing off for a few minutes as warm water soaked her body and tender claws cleaned her up.

Not only was Radia extremely tired, it also just felt good. Staying awake proved a bit easier as she was wrapped in white silk wherever the damned pests had bitten or scratched her. But only a bit.

Then, she had been carried in one of these ‘stretchers’, she had heard one of the bugs call it that, to a small room. She vaguely remembered some of the Wyrm’s stupid constructs standing before the door. She didn’t really care about those anymore.

In the room, they had carefully laid her on a bed. One of them had said things to her. She had not listened. Not just unable to, because the bed was so soft and nice and she just wanted to sleep. She also did not care about that bug or what they had to say.

And so, she had slept.

It was a strange thing. Upon awakening, the softness was… unsettling? She had been too exhausted to care before but now it felt almost uncomfortable. And yet comfortable still.

Well, she reasoned in her sleep-addled mind, she had been hanging on chains for some time, enclosed in metal plates and all. Also, there really was no alternative to the bed.

Alright maybe there was. She could sleep on the floor, for example. She could also stand up and walk around instead of lying on a soft bed and under a soft blanket.

Counterpoint however, she did not want to. And after all that she had endured from the punishment of the Wyrm, and after doing the Wyrm a favour by saving the vessels and Hornet, she felt like she had earned this.

Oh yes, she had almost forgotten all that. So this was most likely the Wyrm’s palace. Hmm, not like she had not expected it. Well, if he wanted her to be punished more, surely, he would come to her for that. Until then, she would sleep more in this wonderful bed.

An unknown amount of time and atleast two more volumes of rest later, Radia was awoken by someone knocking on the door. She simply opened her eyes and shifted to watch the entrance to her… new prison chamber?

After a few seconds, the knocking sound repeated itself. When no answer came from Radia, the door opened.

Root strode into the room with her face set into stone, her expression formal and appraising. She sat down at the table that Radia had so far ignored, setting upon it a small tray. On it was a metal lid, a cup, and a pitcher. Then she met the eyes of the former deity, who was staring back from under her covers.

Silence reigned for several minutes as both parties stared at each other. Eventually, Radia sighed and began the torturous process of sitting up to get out of her bed.

“You ruined my resting.” She stated. Her voice was still rather hoarse.

“A tragedy.”

They held eye contact, both daring the other to make the first move. Slowly, the moth stood up, supporting herself on the wall to ensure she would not collapse any moment. It would not do to show such weakness in front of the Root. She had accepted that she was a god no longer but that did not mean that she discarded any and all pride. Especially in front of them.

Speaking of which, she was almost tall enough to meet Root's eyes. That fact gave Radia a hint of defiant pride. At the very least she could physically stand her ground.

Her opponent made no comment, staring back coldly and keeping her branches on the table.

So, eventually, Radia opened the conversation again. “What honour do I have that the reigning queen decides to grace my presence?”

“I am here to evaluate you.” Root replied as she lifted the lid off the tray. Immediately, the scent of a small meal filled the room.

Radia felt her mouth cavity water and the empty hole in her chest rebel. She did not know nor trust these sensations. On the other hand, somehow all those things on the plate looked positively enticing.

Then, memories of meals and feasts came back to her, disjointed but striking. She remembered these things, remembered wanting them as well. Now was her first opportunity to do so. Perhaps the feeling in her body was correlated?

However, with the sudden desire came suspicions as well. After all, some things were too good to be true.

Has she brought it for herself? Or did she bring it to torture me?  Despite her doubts, Radia slowly moved towards the table.

It was impossible to miss the hungry glare that she gave the food, some simple vegetables and a bit of cooked Tiktik. Root clasped her hands together. “This is for you.”

Their eyes met and held contact for a solid minute, as the two once again attempted to understand the motivations behind the other’s actions.

Then, Radia sat down in front of the plate and stretched out one of her arms.

One of Root’s branches lifted a cup with clear water and held it to the moth. “You should start with some water.”

Radia stared at it for a moment before taking the cup and slowly lifting it to her lips. She was cautious, but as soon as the first gulp of cool liquid cleaned her throat, she drained the entire thing within seconds.

It was bliss. Bliss mixed with pain, as her horribly parched throat was given what it craved for the first time in her material existence, after too long of deprivation. Swallowing even this simple liquid brought discomfort from how rough and dry her throat was. But, every little bit also improved the feeling. By the end of the cup, the painful feeling was significantly reduced.

It remained for now, unfortunately, and Radia caught herself eyeing the pitcher. Surely, there was more water. However, the pitcher was set very clearly on Root's side of the table. Radia could reach out and take it, she was seriously considering doing so but ultimately decided against it.

If Root were to deny her, she couldn't do much. The Higher Being opposite of her was more than her equal, for now at least. Besides that, Radia would not give her the satisfaction of asking. Instead, she turned her attention to the food.

Carefully, she took a vegetable and brought it to her mouth. Radia inhaled its scent and oh, it smelled wonderful.

Eating was difficult, as she at first attempted to simply swallow and almost ended up choking it right back out. Luckily it was small enough to not block her throat, yet it was still big enough to make the whole thing unpleasant.

“You have to chew your food to swallow it.” Root chided, deliberately using a tone she would otherwise have reserved for her children. Normally she did not indulge in pettiness. This time she wanted to make an exception. “You can get more of the taste that way as well.”

Radia glared in response. Nevertheless, she took the second piece of food more carefully and, after a short moment of trying to figure out what to do, managed to indeed use the teeth and mandibles of her body to bite and chew.

She would never admit it, but the Root was correct! It tasted wonderfully. Though swallowing, while easier now, was still an ordeal.

The gaping hole inside of her was also beginning to become less uncomfortable. So it was indeed caused by a lack of food and drink? Something to remember going forward.

Thankfully, silence was maintained as Radia had her first actual meal. It was sadly rather short and, although it certainly helped, she felt still empty.

“Was that it?” She asked, even a somewhat filled stomach not enough to change her attitude towards her opposite.

“Yes. You have not had food or drink for a long time. It is better to build it up in short meals and not overwhelm your body with a grand feast.” Root replied simply. “Most bugs cannot survive without all this for longer than three days.”

Radia was about to retort before a thought came to her mind. “How long have I been in that chamber, according to your time measurement?”

“About three weeks. Or about twenty-two days if I am not mistaken.”

That was… quite a lot, she supposed. Radia looked down at her plate. Root had said that normal bugs could not survive without food and water for more than a few days, yet she had been ignoring what she could now guess was an utter lack of food for far longer.

Root seemed to be reading her thoughts, her perhaps just her expression, and began to talk again. “It was not the best decision to keep you like this, though I do believe that we would have been alerted if your health would have declined. Nevertheless, this does seem to point towards the fact that you are not completely mortal as everyone thought at first.”

That caught Radia’s attention. She had already accepted her new state, now she was told that it was different from what she had thought? “What do you mean?” she asked confused.

“Well, neither Wyrm nor me are Gods, but we are also not normal creatures.” Root explained patiently, crossing her arms. “We are all Higher Beings, you as well, even when you were a being of the dream realm. We are something more than ordinary creatures, yet I do not claim that any of us are truly immortal… or infallible. Wyrm and me have always been part of this realm, ‘material’ if you wish. You on the other hand were of a more spiritual nature with your presence in the dream realm, limited yet also more able in certain ways. But now, it seems that you have become ‘material’ as well as it seems.”

The moth remained silent, mulling over all that she had just heard. It was a lot to her. She did not react as Root took the now empty tablet and arose, striding towards the door to leave.

Of course, she was aware of her own mortality. Yet it was strange having it be explained to her by someone else. Especially when knowing what it would entail going forward.

“Your next meal will be in about an hour or so. This will continue in steps, longer times in between each meal but more food with each one. Eventually, you will have regained your strength and a good eating cycle.”

One hand pushed down the door handle and pulled it open, yet Root hesitated for a moment. Then, without looking to the moth, she simply stated: “Hornet wishes to tell you her thanks.”

With that, she left Radia to her thoughts.

-o0o-

Wyrm and Perlama were standing in a secluded hallway of the palace’s more private area. Kingsmoulds held guard at a distance, yet no Great Knight was in sight. These matters had turned out far to private for that.

“It honours me that you would come to us for help, especially in such a delicate matter.” Wyrm spoke and he fully meant what he was saying. The proposition of the Mantis Lords had surprised him. “I will do my best to keep it secret, of course. The question is now, how best to facilitate it?”

“I was hoping that you could assist us in planning a good moment, your majesty.” Perlama replied, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “There are not many opportunities for our people to come together without suspicion.”

Wyrm pondered for a bit. She was right, Mantises and his kingdom usually kept a polite distance to one another. There was little common interest with the exception of being safe from the scourges of Deepnest. The Mantises were too martially focused and his own subject too concerned with their own entertainment…

“Actually, I think I know a place, even if I myself do not appreciate it really for what it does. The problem is that we would need to… contribute to its entertainment by providing someone from our own, though this could also be more incentive to come together officially.”

Perlama cocked her head in clear interest. “Really? What place are you talking about then?”

“They call it the Colosseum of Fools.”

Chapter Text

Recovery, that was what they called it.

Recovery from malnourishment, specifically, which stood for her not eating enough. Little did the doctors know she had not been eating anything for three weeks. That was enough to kill a bug. But not her.

Recovery from her lungs breathing in a lot of dust. That she didn’t understand the problem of, after all, her throat had become way better after a few cups of water and a day or two. But physiology was something she had never care about in the first place and even now interest was sparce from her side.

Recovery from muscle atrophy. Now that was an interesting one. Apparently, her limbs had been in quite the sorry condition from being unused since… well, the creation of her mortal form. Would that count as a birth? Eh, she didn’t really care anyhow. The doctors could worry about what to classify what as. She focused on the results of her body.

They had told her how she would have to build up strength in her limbs and that it was a miracle of the Pale Ones, one of the more religious names for Wyrm and Root, she really despised that one, that she had even managed to run and carry as she had.

It had taken a lot of determination to not let her pride show, for she had done so much more. But they did not need to know that either. For now, she would do their simple exercises.

Lastly, recovery from her battle wounds. These passed relatively quickly and without much concern from anyone. The doctors noted how unnaturally quickly she seemed to heal; she overheard them carefully comparing her to “His Majesty’s charges”. It took her a bit to realize that they meant the Vessels.

Surprisingly, Radia did not feel irritation at the comparison, though she had thought that she would. That was about six days ago, nine days total since the start of this recovery, atleast if she was correct about how the bugs here measured time.

Which lead her to where she was currently sitting, in the garden area of the palace. It seemed to be a place more reserved to Wyrm and Root’s more personal and private activities, as she rarely saw the small hordes of retainers and nobles that liked to frequent the palace all the time. No, here she was more likely to see one or more of the royals, their knights, accompanying Kingsmoulds, and of course the Vessels.

Out of all of those, Radia had to admit to liking the presence of the small, silent beings the most. They didn’t judge her and, similar to the Kingsmoulds, by observing them she could pick up certain characteristics in some of them.

There was Crown for example, who had eight tiny protrusions on their head in a circle around the skull. They also seemed to use their free time following other vessels around and see what everyone was doing.

Then Shadow, a vessel with two simple horns on the sides of their head. They were named such because of their tendency to put themselves in some corner or other and just watch what was going on. Radia had caught them once or twice observing her.

There was the one appropriately named Halo. She remembered them from her escape, and it seemed they remembered her, for they always looked at her when nearby. Others might have found it unsettling, but Radia knew the true nature of these beings. They were essentially children. For what Little of a difference that really made with them, being as of yet unfeeling creatures born of the Void.

There was simply a certain sense of… something pleasant that Radia could not yet name, when she interacted with them. She enjoyed it somewhat.

Also, having one of the Wyrm’s offspring so interested in herself was something she could cherish with spite. It was really the little things that made her days happier. At least for most of them.

Then there were Them.

The two vessels that she remembered from her first life, as it were. Ghost and the one who had ascended to become the Hollow Knight.

Radia still found it troubling to look at them, or be near them for that matter. Perhaps it was just something she would have to endure, keeping her distance to them. Because otherwise… she would remember. And she didn't want to.

She opened her eyes, looking at a group of Vessels on the other side of the garden. Radia couldn't spot either of Them in it.

Standing up, Radia began to stretch a bit, just as she had been instructed.

Wyrm had, for some unknown reason, allowed her to free roam around the palace. Not everywhere and both the Kingsmoulds as well as the Royal Guards were clearly instructed on where she could and could not go into. But really, any amount of freedom was strange. Radia couldn't help but be suspicious.

And that if she had tried to give Wyrm and Root the benefit of the doubt. Which she didn't. Radia expected every action of theirs to have ulterior motives. Including allowing her to do this recovery thing, eat, drink, and overall just exist here.

She would of course take advantage of their current hospitality. And Radia didn't really know how to plan for or prevent the situation of them deciding to go back on their decision.

The former goddess yawned. She would think on this later. For now, she needed more rest.

-o0o-

Ze'mer did not know what to think about the new guest, formerly prisoner, of her Liege. It was all so very troublesome and strange, as she had to make up her mind with insufficient information. Rumors and gossip spread quickly, diluting what could be vital details.

Especially problematic for her, who received only the crumps of such vocal circulations. Such was the fate of the outsider of the socialites' circles. This was her, the individual beholden by others with awe and suspicion in equal parts. She could still recollect enough memories of hushed conversations, quiet debates on whether or not she was present in this sovereignty to disturb its peace.

However, Ze'mer did not mind it, really. It was quite simply her duty to not let her own self be disturbed by such trivial distractions. Not to say that they had never caused her mental discomfort, her situation and bugs' opinion on it had in past be the cause of many sleepless nights.

But such was her lot in this life and she would content with it. Furthermore, there were plenty of good things that were sufficient in balancing the scales, first amongst these of course being the camaraderie of her fellow Oathsworn Guardians, in the name of the Great Pale Wyrm.

Speaking of her Liege, as much as she payed Him His due respect and loyalty, Ze'mer would find herself wondering about His latest addition to the royal palace grounds. Not the scores of small entities, those resembling his Moulded Knights yet displaying so many differentiating attributes. No, like so many others, Ze'mer had her attention drawn to the tall moth with molten golden eyes.

She watched as a retainer backed away from the tall figure, its four wings draped over the lithe yet sturdy carapace like a cloak that bellowed in her wake. The moth was unlike any other bug Ze'mer had ever seen, moving with such a grace and poise it had to be most unnatural.

As such, the retainer, who most likely had never seen this newcomer in his own existence, cleared the way quicker than would be usual. He pressed himself against the cold stone wall as if wishing to meld with it, watching from his position of instinctive supplication. Ze'mer wondered if perhaps he was confused over his feelings, the instinct to prostrate oneself before such a being.

A Higher Being.

Ze'mer and her fellow Oathsworn Guardians did speculate in the privacy of their appointed chambers, pondering philosophy, logic, politics, and other more simpler topics. And of course, like the circles of busy gossipers and court attendees, they too had been speculating over the most recent sight in the palace. Though, her companions were in possession of much more nuanced and incredibly worrying knowledge.

One fact was clear and known to them at least, the nature of the new individual as a Higher Being. A fledgling one perhaps, one not yet grown fully into its power such like their liege. But much more developed and thus dangerous than His own daughter.

Lady Hornet was in many ways this Higher Moth's opposite, Ze'mer would quietly think.  Least of all in how the child princess was such a bundle of positive emotions, while this one seemed, at least to Ze'mer, bitter and tense.

Alas, hers was not the task to question her liege, or even watch over His new charge. Or perhaps unorthodox prisoner. Of course, the Oathsworn Guardians had displayed the subject matter and its inherent problem to the Monarch. Yet, he had sufficiently aswayed them.

What was left to Ze'mer was now to do her duty and she found solace in this task. To help these strange children of the Wyrm was an unexpected but not unbeloved task. For they only appeared bereft of voice, will, emotion, and life.

Ze'mer would never loudly and proudly proclaim herself as an avid watcher of bug behavior, for such would no doubt only inspire more suspicion and ridicule. But, she was perceptive and keen of wit, that much she could claim.

And many were the times where she had noticed small quirks in the dark children of the Wyrm. Habits and tendencies, dozens of little differences that she could pick up upon. The Queen had naturally found out about this very soon for Ze'mer lacked Fierce Dryya's resilience against the Lady's disarming charm. So, it became now another constant in her schedule to meet with the Queen and help her fill out the Tome of Vessels.

It was a pleasant addition to her duties. Life was treating them well, now that the Infection had subsided and peace seemed to return to Hallownest.

And yet…

Ze'mer never would dare speak such things in any company, for it would shame her greatly.

The simple fact of the matter remained that she could not stop herself from feeling a manner of solitude, unable to be vanquished by sparrings and other training methods with her fellow Oathsworn Guardians. Nor even her new duties of watching and furthering the development of the Wyrm's children could help in providing appeasement, though it often achieved to brighten Ze'mer's mood.

There was quite simply a wish for something else. What, Ze'mer was unable to bring into any coherent form, be it sound or written.

Thus she could only sigh in the manner that inspired her title of 'the Mysterious'.

Truthfully, she was at a loss about it. And so, Ze'mer only chastised herself for such selfish thoughts. Her duty was ever demanding and now, attending to scores of dozens of her liege's children and the presence of a fledgling Higher Being held much greater relevance than one single, foreign bug.

However, nothing, not even chastisement, could chase away the lonelieness.

-o0o-

They had argued again. It had been happening a lot recently, too often for her liking. Yet, it was almost always her that started it.

It was always her who took offense at a spoken statement. Or replied with too much bite. Or exploded into the face of one of her aunts over something she would later label as “minor things”.

This time it had been a mixture of the latter two. Hymena had tried to bring her to spar a little bit. In return, she had yelled.

Now, she was in one of the lesser used tunnels of the mantis village and… moped around.

It wasn’t that she hated her aunts. Really, she didn’t! She loved them, just like she loved her father.

But that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? Her father.

“Sibylli?”

The nymph flinched at the calling of her name.

Tistina carefully stepped into her tunnel. She was seemingly unarmed, though that never meant much with a mantis, especially with a lord. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm, okay.” Sibylli just hummed. “Sorry for yelling at Hymena earlier.”

“It is okay, she already has forgiven you.” Tistina said as she gently sat down a bit of a distance from her niece. “Well, actually, it’s Hymena, so in her mind there is nothing to forgive in the first place. You know how she is, always friendly and happy.”

“Not always.” It was really not in her nature to be so pessimistic and rude, but it was difficult to feel upbeat right now.

“Is this about how the trainees treated you?” Tistina asked, taking the metaphorical plunge to try and get to the heart of the matter. She was fully aware that this could easily turn into another shouting match.

“It is about everything!” The young nymph exclaimed loudly in return, folding in on herself even further afterwards.

“I… I just-“ She had been able to push away her tears for quite some time, but it seemed even that had reached its limit. “Why is all of this happening? How is this fair!?“

It was illogical to wish that things were different, because there was nothing she could do about it. But right now, that did not stop Sibylli. She wished that her father had not listened to whatever those stupid dreams had been whispering into his mind, that he had not spread dreams of glory and expansion amongst the tribe’s warriors.

She wished that her aunts would have stopped him from taking a third of the warriors away from the village on some insane quest. She wished that she had not been so stupid to follow him.

She wished that she would stop calling herself stupid for wanting to stay close to her own bloody father. And that she would stop being so angry with the rest of her family.

She wished that the rest of the village would finally stop giving her glares and backhanded insults because she knew that her father had committed treason and treachery and she really didn’t any more reminders!

Sometimes, she wished that she could just run away. If it was late at night, she even allowed herself to become lost in wishful fantasies. Exploring new caves, new kingdoms, far away from all of this.

Perhaps she would even meet someone…

Sibylli was shaken from her inner thoughts when her aunt gently put one claw upon her shoulder. She chastised herself mentally for going on dream-adventures again.

“Not many things are really fair.” Hymena said quietly. “Some get punished for attempting to do good things. Others walk free despite crimes they commit willingly. And sometimes fate hits extremely hard against a particular person for no apparent reason. I am sorry, Sib.”

The young mantis sighed, wiping at the tears that were starting built up in her eyes. She had managed to keep them away for the most part, but not anymore it seemed.

Tistina wrapped an arm over her shoulders. She contemplated on how to handle this. Sibylli needed something to keep going.

“There… there might be a chance very soon to perhaps start making things better.” She wasn’t supposed to tell her just yet. But sometimes, she needed to bent what Perlama ordered.

“There is going to be a diplomatic event soon. A… let’s call it a celebration of the end of the Infection, coupled with the meeting of nearly every important bug in Hallownest. The relevant thing is that it will include competitive duels between champions. We… are considering choosing Cretoma, as a chance to prove his worth and his loyalty once more to the tribe.”

The nymph next to her was listening with increasing attention, her eyes growing wider and wider.

“The whole thing is going to be in the next three weeks. But, please don’t tell anyone for now. We will announce it soon. I just wanted to tell you-“

Thankfully, Tistina was cut off as her niece hugged her fiercely. She just hugged her back, glad that she had managed to defuse the situation somewhat.

"Things will be better after that?"

"They will, I promise."

Despite everything, Sibylli wanted nothing more than to believe it.

Chapter Text

"Repeat it to me, my dear. I simply wish to hear it again." Herrah demanded, though her voice was gentle and calm. Normal bugs would have been intimidated even by this, for they would expect rough and harsh words from 'The Beast'. Such elegant speech made them quite unsettled, for they never saw the Weavers as anything more than barbarians.

When the truth could not be further from this idea. But, such was the purposeful deception that Herrah made sure to uphold, since her kind had arrived in this place. Better to be only spoken of in hushed whispers, disregarded in the deepest hole of Hallownest, than to be known. To be seen by Her.

Around her, the four weavers stood with their innate grace, their large round masks nodding slowly as one of them spoke.

"We cannot find three of the soul totems anymore. Their old resting places show signs of heavy work. Tools, clearly used to take and carry them away. Barely a sign of who it was, the carvers never leave even a crumb from their meal."

"That complicates things." Herrah mused.

They were slowly walking through the main nest of their Hidden Village. All around them, smaller weavers were scuttling about busily. Larger devouts bowed and honored their matriarch as she passed, though she gave them little attention. It was common practice afterall, and her mind was more occupied with current matters.

"Are there any totems still present?"

One of the Weavers gave melodic sound from within his mask, a Weaver's expression of uncertainty. "We have not yet received songs or word from all of our little ones. They are scurrying about Deepnest to confirm. Mongola is in the position of Listener, she will alert us of any reports."

Herrah nodded. The caves of Deepnest were vast, dangerous even for them, and overall inhospitable. Truthfully, the Weaver tribe only occupied and 'contested' a small part of it and even then they constantly had to deal with Dirtcarvers and other pests. Though at this point most knew to leave them alone.

Thusly, to better convey vital information, the weavers used the narrow tunnels of Deepnest to carry their songs. Music had always been an important aspect of their culture and while nobody dared to create their traditional instruments anymore, vocal songs and loud purrs were easy enough. Their little weavers especially, who lacked the ability to use larger instruments anyhow, found this method of communication very intuitive and took to it faster than common bugspeech.

"My matriarch." The youngest weaver carefully began and Herrah turned to look at her. "Forgive me for asking such a question, but, what are we to do about this? Our new home has been infringed upon. It is not enough that we remain known to this larger kingdom, now they take steps into Deepnest itself. If this is only the first move, what else can we expect? Before we know, they might try to force us to join under their king, and then the risk of Her-"

Herrah growled in a short but powerful burst. A warning. All around, little weavers and devouts jerked back and stayed low. The other standing Weavers chittered with anger.

But also just a hint of fear.

"You forget yourself." Herrah spoke with calmness, but her voice still held a sharp edge. "Calm your emotions and do not allow them to ride your thoughts again. This is a problem, but it is not part of Hallownest's grand schemes. And it will not so easily cause us to be under silken threat again!"

"I… I beg for your forgiveness, my matriarch. This one is weak in her mind and willing to endure correction." The offending Weaver lowered herself to a kneel on her multiple legs, mask bowed in supplication.

Herrah only put one of her claws on her subject's head. "No need. And you forget that we abolished this practice shortly after coming here. Now stand, I have need of you."

Work and service was still acceptable as 'punishment' for the weaver and so she stood. Around them, the lesser weavers approached once more, continuing with their usual duties. They were glad to not have to risk reproach.

"Find as many pieces of evidence as possible for what happened and how it did." Herrah began to address her weavers. "Deepnest itself will have erased the most obvious of remains, even their blood might be licked clean by the carvers. However, not every trinket or scrap of cloth finds its way into a pest's stomach. And furthermore, if someone has taken the totems, they would have needed to bring them somewhere."

"There are only so many entrances into our realm." One of the Weavers stated, while the rest chirped in agreement. "And the mantis tribe would never let anyone enter through their passage. Thusly, we can scour the rest for traces, the carvers only follow so far."

"But, my matriarch. Forgive me if I question you, should we follow tracks into Hallownest at large?" The fourth Weaver inquired.

Herrah considered for a while. On its own, breaking their isolation was not the greatest risk, at least not as much as her tribe thought of it. After all, if they had to stay so hidden, she would not even have her regular meetings with the Queen. However, that didn't mean she was going to just send them out into the larger kingdom. A conundrum.

"We will need to. It isn't something I would like, but such a matter should not be disregarded. The question is not why they would intrude upon Deepnest but what they want with the totems. Especially considering W-the Pale King has put heavy restrictions on soul research and placed the totems under… what was it called again? 'Protection of historical archeological artefacts.' We are not part of his kingdom so it may not apply here but them being taken is still not a good sign, because it indicates someone has uses for them."

The Weavers themselves did not need the soul one might be able to gather from such a totem, their own wellsprings provided more than enough. However, there were times were a Weaver had been hurt and used a nearby totem to heal and keep going. As a result, they were seen as emergency solutions. Some of the Weavers even checked up on them to make sure they weren't damaged, as well as clean them from time to time.

It was how they had noticed the disappearance in the first place.

"Send out our best for this task. They should stay out of sight. We are not forbidden from wandering Hallownest, but for now we should bring as little attention to the matter as possible."

The Weavers nodded and most left to organize the efforts. Only the most senior remained for now.

"My matriarch, will you tell the White King and Queen about this?"

Herrah hummed in thought. "Most likely, though perhaps just the Queen for now. She has a lot of information and might be able to help us here. We came here for secrecy and isolation, but cooperation seems to prove too useful to ignore. And Hornet wishes to visit her siblings anyhow, so I have reasons enough to go their palace."

The Weaver nodded. They arrived at the entrance of the Beast's Den, the largest of the nests hanging in the cavern. All around them, weavers small and tall moved across webs, carrying supplies, weapons, or nothing at all. It was an ever constant flurry of activity and yet Herrah could still not help but lament at how few of them there were.

Her tribe only held about a dozen full Weavers. And none of the little ones or the devouts could ascend, the methods for such a thing were lost on their exodus.

"My matriarch. I wish not to spread fear." The Weaver besides her spoke. "But I feel bad things bound to recent events. Something is happening. And it is not good for us."

"I know." Herrah simply replied. Her mind wandered to Hornet, safe for now in the Weavernest they had built deep in Deepnest, hidden as much as possible, secured as much as possible. But she knew it wasn't as safe as it should be.

"I feel it too."

-o0o-

One of the less satisfying duties they had to endure was the observation of contenders for the title of Pale Champion. An empty title which had not been filled since Ze'mer herself had arrived in these hallowed lands, so many years ago already. Few of her fellow Oathsworn Guardians could tell her about the last bug to hold this august title.

There had always been those ambitious few who clamored to take up the mantle. A strange tradition of sorts, for Ze'mer didn't know what the Pale Champion would be doing, their duties were unknown to her and nobody could illuminate this darkness of unknown knowledge.

Not that it held relevance, for those assembled would never be worthy of rising so high. They were skilled with blades, this much was true, but more was required.

Take the Oathsworn, the 'Great Knights' as those of this kingdom called them. More than skill in duels, theirs was capability in battle and war of all kinds. Single fights, mass engagements, protection, and extermination. Fighting as a divine unit was just as vital as wielding one's nail in isolation of allies.

But even beyond this, constant training had to be done to keep their senses sharp. To notice intruders, dangers, or even just small changes around them was as important as swinging a piece of metal. Dryya had drilled the truth into their heads so often they resembled the beautiful crystal caves above the city.

Many more requirements were put onto their position and Ze'mer ever had to fight the anxiety of failing their own high standards. For without her place in the Oathsworn Guardians, she would not know what to do or where to go.

A Pale Champion, she had to imagine would have even more expectations heaped upon them, for they would surely be the representation of the hallowed Monarch himself. Such standards were above what any one mortal bug could surpass.

And these were certainly not close to it.

But alas, these aspirants, twelve in total, were assembled in one of the open grounds of the palace. This one was in the section of the royal estate closer to the entrance, the part open to the King's subjects, partitioners, equiries, and the nobles who wished to ingratiate themselves with Him.

As fruitless of an undertaking as these so called 'champions', for the King was far above needing their sycophantic pleas and words. Even still, someone had to observe them, to ensure they continued to maintain decorum.

Ze'mer disliked this duty for it felt to her as if she was wasting time, which would be better spent serving her Monarch in other ways. It also exposed her to the judgemental glares of the assembled contenders, who envied her for her position.

"It appears that I am the victor." It would appear so, for this 'knight' had indeed laid his opponent low. Medical bugs immediately rushed to them, for these 'duels' often went beyond first blood.

The winner, or offender rather, as Ze'mer would say for he was crass, brash, rude, and entirely to bloodthirsty for her taste. His armour was red, his helmet styled like a pair of widespread horns, and his dual swords were fast. Overall, he was very adequate.

"Oh, stop your gloating, Xero." Another of the knights said dismissively. Ze'mer counted herself as lucky that they payed little attnention to her. All these individuals she could live with never meeting again, snovelling sycophants of belligerent nature that they were.

"Angry that I am the best candidate between all of us?"

The arrogance in this room would be sufficient to crush a Dirtcarver underneath its weight. Ze'mer lamented this torture.

She would much rather train herself. Not against these fools, for even if they possessed a modicum of skill, which they very well might, it would still not be satisfying to fight them. There were too little respect for the martial arts, or one's opponent, in any of them.

So tired of this farce was Ze'mer, that she allowed her mind to slip. Her thoughts drifted away from these pretender champions and failed knights, away from His Hallowed Kingdom. To a place and people in the fungal lands.

For these were true warriors, creatures worthy of respect. Ze'mer had only seldom seen them, even less in battle. But it had given her powerful and wonderful impression. The mantises were lithe and deadly, fighting with metal nail-claws or even nail-lances, better than most bugs of His Kingdom.

If only she could come to their tribe, to witness their sparring. Perhaps even participate, to test her mettle and prove her worthieness. So that she may converse and train with them.

But alas, Ze'mer had her duties and the mantises kept to themselves. Isolation from the Pale Kingdom was their choice, no visitors were allowed in their lands.

Even if, would they accept a request from a stranger?

"You will see!" Xero shouted and brought Ze'mer back to the present. "The tournament will prove my skill and worthieness to Him! Then, I expect all of you to grovel!"

The others laughed, except a few who seemed to be surprised. Ze'mer was as well, she had not heard of any tournaments happening soon. But, she would never deign to ask any of them, if only to ensure they would continue to ignore and thus neglect to bother her.

"There will be a tournament?" One of the newer contestants here inquired, the hope so clear in his voice.

Xero laughed his arrogance out loud. "See? How can you hope to compete if you fail to stay in the loop?"

"All of Hallownest will be there, in the Colosseum of Fools!" Another bug threw in, drawing scoffs and wonder from the others.

"That place? I wish they would hold it here and not such a disgusting place."

"Oh but imagine, we can fight in a proper arena! I have visited it once, a wonderful place to cross blades." Yet another called out. "And the opposition will be numerous as well! Fighters of the Hive, mantises, everyone is there!"

"Truly a chance for great glory. And His Majesty will be there as well, ready to witness my victories!" Xero cheered, but Ze'mer forcibly removed his voice from her attention.

She may get a chance to witness the mantises and their beautiful ferocity again. Perhaps, she may be able to talk to one as well.

-o0o-

A cloaked figure entered the cavern, his shadow made to dance by the flickering light of fire sconses. The ground was was covered in masks like tiles, causing a clack whenever he stepped forward. The lone caretaker was sitting on a bench, her staff in claw.

"It has been a regrettably long time since my last visitor." The old snail spoke without looking at him.

"I am no visitor."

She snorted. "But are you not entering my domain? I do not think you wish to make it your new home. So, that makes you a visitor. And we are obliged to give you guidance."

"I am in no need of guidance." He replied with an edge in his voice. The intruder now stood the length of a nail-lance away from the old shaman.

In response, she just chuckled good-naturedly, though he could hear a tone of condescension that made his carapace crawl in anger.

"Of course you are, child. Why else would you come here, if you were able to proceed with your imagined goal? No, you need something."

He growled. "Do not lecture me. And do not presume to know anything about me."

"But we do know about you, Herallien." The snail shaman looked up at the leader of the Soul Sanctum.

He leaned down, towering over the old snail. "And I know that there is no 'We'. You are alone."

Again, she chuckled. "He truly understands so little. For example, child. Tell me why the Pale Monarch has outlawed the usage of soul magic, condemning me and my remaining kin to isolation?"

Herallien righted himself again and let his eyes dart around. He knew, outside this cavern his warriors were waiting in hiding. If they were even needed.

"He hoards it for himself, like the tyrant he is. Wishing to keep us from ascension."

The shaman stood up and started to hobble away from the Soul Master, towards a totem standing against the wall. Carefully, she caressed its smooth black surface, lines of white soul energy following her claw. He was watching her, to see if she would begin absorbing it, but she didn't.

"No, no. You simply do not understand. He fears it." The shaman spoke. "To engage in this magic opens up the soul to the above and the below. And those that are not attuned to it fall prey to these forces."

"Divinity."

She turned to look at him. "So you can understand."

But the Soul Master just smiled. "I have understood long ago, witch. You call me ignorant but tell me what I already know. In soul magic lies our path to grow beyond simple bugs! Immortality and power is within our grasp."

"Your ignorance prevails still. But oh well, I have tried." The shaman shook her head, a slow action with her heavy shell.

"Answer me this one question, witch." Herallien stated as he stepped closer again, starting to float above the ground. "You know why I am here. You are the last of your kind, the rest we already have. And still you waste time by talking?"

"As shamans it was always our task to teach. And we did so even to those who wished us harm, who sought or destruction. The light-filled moths just as much as you now. We will never stop with our duty." Her calmness was aggrevating him to no end. The Soul Master snarled.

"There is nobody but you. You are alone."

"We are never alone. You will understand."

Her eyes began to glow, as did the masks all around them and the totem. Soul began to saturate the air and Herallien could barely react before a black and white blast of pure vengeful hate shot from the shaman towards him.

-o0o-

Radia stood on some of the highest ramparts of the White Palace and looked out into the cavern beyond. Below her, on walls that did not reach as high, in courtyards, and outside the palace itself, she could see common bugs milling around or walking to accomplish a task or something.

It felt good to be this high up, above everything. Even the winged Royal Guards did not fly on this level, at least not typically. She had found the spot a couple of days ago. It was perfect when the activity of the palace grated on her nerves.

There was only so much that one could find enjoyment in having bugs stare and be in awe at her. At some point, it became tiresome. Were there truly this many, that they would still find her presence shocking? Who knew, Radia could not be bothered to remember their faces.

Other things, more important things, were kept in her mind. Memories, dreams, sensations and feelings. She was still given only very modest food, not the elaborate dishes she was certain nobles or the royals enjoyed, but even that was divine to her. Wyrm had done few things right, but his chefs were likely one of these few occurences.

Another, of course, was him not putting her back to prison. Such a shameful thing, unbecoming, especially after all his actions.

They both carried blame and guilt and this, certainly, Radia would never deny such a fact. But, she had suffered. She had payed for it in vast amounts. Wyrm, in comparison, was spared the worst of it.

If one were to truly think about it, him now having the chance to help all the Vessels develop was also her doing. He should be thanking her!

Of course, Radia would never say it to him. Wyrm would not accept this truth for all of his immortal years. Right or wrong, Radia knew both of them were too prideful.

"Miss Radia!"

Well, speaking of one of the few good things Wyrm had done, one of the top contenders was rushing towards the tall moth.

Hornet's red cloak was billowing around her. Radia remembered how the child had been in the ruins of her kingdom. Serious, mature, entirely lethal. So many thralls and possessed corpses had been dispatched by her.

But this after-image did not stand up against the present. How could it, when the small form of the weaver-wyrm skidded to a sharp halt in front of her and looked up. Radia immediately went onto a knee to bring herself closer. Even so, Hornet would have needed two of herself to stand upon, should she wish to see eye to eye.

"Hello, princess Hornet." Radia greeted her.

Hornet just giggled and hopped up and down a few times. The command was very clear and so Radia scooped up the child in her upper arms. "Why you call me princess too?"

"It is just correct to do so." Radia replied diplomatically. How should the child understand that her friend only referred to her with royal title, but not her parents of either side.

"It is only proper."

Only now did Radia pay attention to those who had followed Hornet. Well,  she had acknowledged the Vessels, because of course a small number was with their sister. Was she magnetic to them? Did they feel actually drawn to her, or was it just the nature of constructs to follow authority?

Especially, that one. Ghost. Radia did her best not to look at that one specifically.

"Lady Hornet, I had asked you to-"

Radia cut off the other individual who had followed the child with her own question. "I see your following has new masks amongst them! Do they have names already?"

Apart from Ghost and the one she knew would have become the Hollow Knight, three more fresh ones were present and looking up at her. Radia's senses, sharper than a normal bug's and used to picking out hidden quirks in Kingsmoulds during her three weeks in a grey prison cell, immediately picked up how one of them was seemingly a bit anxious, while another was gripping its sheathed nail tight.

Also behind Hornet were two larger individuals. One was Isma, one of Wyrm's knights and pleasant enough to be around. The other was a Weaver.

Radia had never really seen them, the larger and more developed of that tribe had always eluded her influence, if not the dangers the possessed husks brought with them.

The Weaver was also the one who had spoken up to emphasize the propriety of Hornet's title. They seemed to regard her suspiciously. Radia just stared back for a moment. Then, she decided to ignore the spider. Radia would give her time and attention if the Weaver became actually important.

The child pointed to one Vessel with a particularly large horn curving backwards over their entire head.

"Dad called that one Scythe. What were you doing?" Hornet asked, entirely unaware of any of the posturing around her.

"Oh, just keeping to myself and thinking. Many thoughts and wishes in this head, there is much I want to do." Radia answered, perhaps a bit cryptically.

"Are you going to fly?" The child inquired, getting excited at the idea. She grasped for one of Radia's wings and pulled at the furry appendage. It didn't hurt at all, but Radia couldn't help but notice that Isma was about to intervene while the Weaver wasn't.

Now, she didn't mind either way, Hornet was far from strong enough to cause harm. But it was interesting that Hornet's own kin seemed to not care about her disrespecting another bug. And somehow, Radia didn't get the feeling that they would care for Hornet causing harm either.

Something to be wary of.

The moth signalled with one claw that Isma need not intervene. "No, actually, just remaining on the ground for now."

"I wish I had wings." Hornet lamented, then threw her arms around. "I would fly through all of Hallownest, faster than anyone!"

Then Hornet looked up at Radia and excitedly asked. "Could you fly and carry me?"

Everyone seemed to have an opinion about this, even the Vessels, who all looked at Hornet suddenly. Outside of that, it was hard to interpret their reaction. Personally, Radia imagined they would be worried for their only sister.

Isma, for her part, made a very uncertain noise. However, she was overshadowed by the Weaver's shouting.

"Absolutely not!"

Radia threw her a dirty look. It would not matter regardless, because… well, she couldn't fly. She never had, not in reality. Her dream domain was different, there, only her will had mattered. In this reality, other laws reigned and she had no control over them. So, flying was the same for her as for every other bug.

The moth looked over the side of the castle. What would happen if she were to try and fly right now?

Unlikely to be a good idea. But, she wanted to. Radia had not lied, there were many things she wished to do. Flying was one of these things. How to go about it however was a problem she would need to figure out for herself.

The Weaver stepped up to Radia, trying to make herself look as tall as the moth. "Your highness, come here, we should return to your mother."

She didn't like the spider's tone. There was disdain and a sense of superiority that made her fur itch. So, Radia simply copied the Weaver's posture. And between the two, she matched her height, if not overmatching it. But also, Radia had the presence and she knew it.

Her wings were perhaps not useful for flight at the moment, but she could flare them, even just a bit. As she stared down the Weaver, Radia put it all into the stare. Killed, reduced, mortal she may be but Root was right when saying that she was still a Higher Being.

She was still the Radiance given flesh and she would not let some upstart spiderling disrespect her like this, nor imply however veiled that she was not the right person to hold or interact with Hornet!

The Weaver for her part began to feel something crawl over her back as she stared into the two orbs of molten gold. She couldn't look away from them, as if snared in a mind trap.

Warmth began to spread throughout her body, but it was not a pleasant one. It was feverish, hot and sick. Her ichor felt like it was boiling, expanding outwards, trying to breach her shell.

The two eyes began to glow-

"Excuse me!" Isma's voice cut through the painful haze and diverted the moth's attention. The Knight was composed but inwardly, she was struggling to stay calm. "I do believe the Queen of Deepnest might depart soon, so perhaps we could bring her daughter back alltogether?"

"Aww, already?" Hornet cried and crossed her arms. Some of her siblings wriggled with their heads in either annoyance or shared lamentation with their sister.

Radia just 'hmphed', turned, and began to walk down the rampart. "Well then, Knight. You know where to find her."

Isma quickly took the lead, inwardly glad at managing to defuse the situation. That was the most immediate matter. Afterwards, she would have to inform the King and Queen immediately!

It seemed that their 'guest' was not as powerless as assumed. Only a second or two had passed but she had been able to feel it! Isma had always been magically inclined, capable of sensing the usage of abilities some would call supernatural. This had clearly been such a case.

And it was a problem. A possible danger.

So wrapped up in her duties was Isma that she didn't notice the Weaver not following them.

Because, for her part, the spider was still shocked frozen. The sensation had faded but what remained was terrifying knowledge.

For this display reminded her too much of her own home. Her former god. Her creator.

The Haunting of the Weavers, the nightmare they still feared.

A shaking claw reached up and dragged itself across her mask. As she looked at it, for a moment she thought to see a glob of orange and a will impressed upon her own.

Herrah needed to know of this, the presence of another god-being, one who might be able to match the Grand Mother.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Well-treated metal hit its kin, over and over again. The two combatants exchanged blows in rhythm displaying steadieness, but also the inequal nature of their skill in the martial arts. Blunted blades, made for training danced in a facsimile of a lethal duel. Parries, thrusts, all manner of moves inherit to the best of the nail art was shown. Though again, the degree of competence with this art was skewed most heavily between both participants.

One of the sparring combatants showed quite heavily how much her body was being strained by this exercise. And those numerous other ones, which had been undertaking on this day. As well as everything done in most of two weeks' time. The large moth's breathing was filled with frustration and exertion, for she was pushing herself to no avail, at least so it must seem to her.

And truthfully, she had yet to land a blow on her opponent, as such her anger might be understandable. Though, her foe was not the only one feeling frustration. It was perhaps an inevitability, when a master duelist had to witness a pupil who didn’t seem to have the wish to finally fight well. Or the capability.

No. Ze'mer should not think in such a way. Her Monarch's newest charge was far from unwilling, indeed she threw all of her physical capacity as well as her fervour into the training regime provided to her. It was, in certain ways, admirable.

And as she had been designated to watch over and assist the one with the golden eyes, Ze'mer had been capable of witnessing the slow progressing of the tall lady's martialistic abilities. If slow could be the honest word used for this description, for most certainly, it could be seen as most impressive what had been accomplished.

Yet, Ze'mer was aware of the goal, the proverbial height which lady Radia had been tasked to achieve. The tournament in the arena of the foolish, the Shameful Bloodground, would be fought out by the elite of Hallownest's champions. Bordering kingdoms and tribes were expected to match them and most certainly they would. Bugs with ferocity, lethality and grace, skill of nail and claw, they all would arrive in droves to duel.

Progress was simply insufficient, even though Ze'mer found herself loath to admit such. For she saw kinship in lady Radia. Or rather, she perceived a sense of mutual isolationism, owing to their individual exoticism and strange mysterium towards the denizens of this region.

Others could only react to these golden eyes with shock or awe, yet Ze'mer found them curious and honest. A sight to behold, very much so, yet one that she thought to be laced with a tone of danger and passion.

Never would she admit these thoughts to any, even her companions of the Oathsworn Guardians. Ze'mer's admiration of the dangerous and what was considered strange was already known to them. Never did they haunt or hound her for it, but still she felt embarassment.

“Stop thinking!”

The lady Radia growled in response, a difficult task, for she was already breathing heavily, simultaneously trying to strike at her sparring partner. Her weapon was a simple practice long-nail, being easily swatted aside once more.

“I can see that you are distracted! Focus! Move with the flow and strike!” Their instructor shouted.

So peculiar she was. Prideful like a true monarch, the semblance of royalty even though lacking the learned words and manners. And yet there was also this genuine desire to grow and improve, to rise no matter what.

However, she soon showed a trait most unfortunate in any student: a great impatience. Of course, such would have been understandable to an extent. As Ze’mer knew, whispered to her by her venerable and kind companion Isma, who overheard a discussion between the Pale King and Queen, the lady Radia was supposed to fight for the King in the tournament.

But even then, with only a fortnight to become proficient enough in the art of the nail to properly represent their all Honored Liege, the lady Radia was reaching far too high. She wished to become equal with the nobility's champions and sworn nails. And this she wished for now.

There was a hunger in the unique moth, to soar above all, yet she was hampered and held by the constrictions of her body. Only so much improvement could happen in such a short time and especially so if the one learning remained stubbornly single-minded about it. The lady Radia listened, she attempted to her best to implement what her tutor tought her.

"I chh am chh TRYING!"

"Enough!"

Ze'mer planted herself into the smooth stone of the sparring court and let her partner in the ring commit to one last attack. Her own counter was fluid and graceful, a sign of countless iterations of practice. The difference between them could not be any starker. With but one swift strike, the moth's nail flew across the floor and Ze'mer bowed and stood down.

Her foe in response drew in her breath deeply, occupied by her own rage, which she kept down as best as she could. Still, Ze'mer withdrew, for now it was master and pupil to engage with words instead of the nail. She had done her part and could now remain blessedly silent.

"You have two days, moth!" The wise nailmaster chided as he approached. His stature made him easy to underestimate, for most truly, he was even smaller than the royal Wyrm's progeny. Of course, never would Ze'mer dare to disgrace the venerable Master Sly by thinking of his size as important, or otherwise a degradation. Fortunately, the lady Radia had never done so either.

Instead, they butted heads over their training.

"Two days until that festival for the arrogant amateurs. And that last day should be spent resting and preparing! Yet you still. Don't. Learn!" The Master Sly had to look up almost as straight as his weapon, the only thing about him close to reaching his pupil's impressive size. Ze'mer sometimes allowed herself the selfishness of feeling honored he favored the same type of nail that she did.

"I show you my arts and yet you stumble around! I tell and demonstrate on how you can prepare, but for all it appears you do not wish to learn!"

"I am trying!" The lady Radia bit back, her restraint truly admirable, for she barely raised her tone. Even so, venom and sharp fury was clear in her voice. "If it were so easy as you say, then I would have gotten it already! But clearly-"

Most fortunate for them all, the dark metal doors to the training court opened, letting in the divine Pale Queen herself, as well as her personal Oathsworn Guardian Dryya. As they entered, the Fierce Pale Blade made a subtle gesture towards Ze'mer. Another one of the masses of secret signals and signs they had developed for the sake of coordination and communication with each other. This one was to simply assure that no matter of importance requiring heightened senses or secrecy was required and as such they would not have to be more alert.

Ze'mer bowed. “Nym’Queen, thou give chou' surprise by visiting moul' training. Coulds’t che' ask for what purpose thou are granting us this honor?”

“At ease Ze’mer.” The White Lady ordered gentily, approaching on her roots those assembled on the floor of the sparring grounds. As Ze’mer bowed in reverence, the lady Radia remained as she was. For certain, she was close to an equal to the Queen and King in nature of being, this Ze'mer was assured of. Even still, station were to demand reverence. Yet, perhaps this was a case where such formalities were to be waved away?

“I simply wanted to see how things were going. The event is in two days afterall.”

The lady Radia scoffed, as most likely, the frustrations of this day's sparring rounds still overruled her attitude. "You don't need to remind me. I am preparing as best I can, it simply has been… difficult to progress as fast as I want to."

From the Master Sly, a noise sounding most sarcastic came, causing those intriguing golden eyes to glare at him. Yet the Pale Queen immediately approached even closer, speaking so that their guest and ward would not focus her ire onto her mentor.

"I know you won't interpret it as such, but I do mean it when I say that there is no shame in deciding it would be better not to participate." Yes indeed, the lady Radia did certainly not interpret the assurance of the Pale Queen as such, taking it instead as an insult. Fierce Dryya of course sensed this and moved closer, for she had never trusted the tall moth. Ze'mer instead chose to stay where she was.

She knew for certain that the lady Radia was prone to fits of anger, yet no matter the words or the fury, she had never laid a claw on someone. Not for any verbal provocation or disagreement. Ze'mer did trust her, strange as it was. Foolish as she may be, though she hoped to not deserve this epiphet for doing this.

The Pale Queen simply continued to speak in the face of the golden anger directed at her. "Oh don't look at me like that. I know your pride is hurting just thinking about it, but you should also be reasonable and consider yourself. If you got hurt, it would destroy all the progress you have made in recovering from the last ordeal."

"And whose fault was that?" The lady Radia snarled, and both Fierce Dryya and Ze'mer were unable to miss the tightening in their liege Lady's posture. They did not know the context behind this blow, yet obvious it was that this barb still stung painfully. "Do not underestimate me here. I managed to crawl out of the dusty basin you built your palace on. I can take on whoever is thrown at me."

The Pale Queen narrowed her brilliant eyes, pools of elegance and wisdom in their own right, and then looked to the Master Sly. "Nailmaster. I thank you for your service today and apologize for the interruption. Best I leave you and your student to it. Ze'mer dear, could you come with us?"

"Ai, of course, Nym'queen." Ze'mer bowed again and then gave the lady Radia an honoring farewell. "Che' shall reconvene with thou in the morrow. Eh nai, et may thou find a rest most well."

Thus they left quickly and with a fast pace, for clearly the Pale Queen wished to make good on her word and leave the lady Radia to continue her learning in the martial arts. Swift they walked down the corridors of the White Palace, steps echoing clear and sound.

"Ah, she can be such a frustrating moth." The Pale Queen remarked, more for herself for neither of her Oathsworn Guardians did answer. "Ze'mer, give me your honest opinion. How is she faring?"

"Ulll!" Ze'mer exclaimed, not having expected to be given such a request, even from her liege Lady. "Well, truth be told Nym'queen, the lady Radia doest truly struggle much. Hers be the hunger to improve, yet the lack of skill to do such quickly. To fan this anger, che' wishes not, but for the lady Radia, tis be a frustation lacking easy solutions."

"I see, I see." The Pale Queen said, putting one of her roots on the chin of her face. "Well, it was to be expected, really. I understand why my dear husband chose this way. But I do wonder if it truly is the smart thing to do. How would you say she could stand against others? You have seen the knights who regularly come to our court."

"Hmmm." This question made her think deeply, drawing forth the memories of all the fighters potentially elligible for the coming tournament. There were many who could be present and Ze'mer did have a good grasp of their capabilities.

"This doest depend most heavily on who the lady Radia were to fight, Nym'queen. For many of the aristocratic bugs' guardians and champions, she would be a match equal. Great strength be inherit in her shell and skill doest come to her in a manner of surprising swiftness. Victory may be hers against these foes. Yet, against warriors of greater power, the lady Radia wouldst find herself outmatched most dearly, to suffer defeat and frustrations anew. Tis be mel'opinion, as Nym'queen hast requested."

The Pale Queen's expression was one Ze'mer could not divine, for she looked forward with a hint of amusement, yet even more dry resignation. "Well, hopefully she can learn to be humbled then."

-o0o-

Sibylli wasn’t supposed to be here. She didn’t really care though. Why even?

If anyone tried to stop her, let them. They would simply give her the opportunity to vent some frustrations. And those she had in spades. Her sneaking in and out was really more of a courtesy towards them, or rather her aunts. She didn’t want to cause them any more trouble.

But she also wanted to see her father.

Tomorrow was the day that he was going to fight a champion of the Pale King after all.

Yes, the fight wasn’t until death. But it wasn’t until just first blood either. A lot can happen in between.

Yes, it was supposed to bring her father back into the trust of the tribe. But things had gotten worse in the days before today. People were saying nasty things about him, even after the announcement. They were also saying nasty things about her.

She was staying at their home mostly, she would even if her aunts hadn’t asked her to. Any mantis that she had been able to consider a friend had become estranged to her. Most of them at least stayed away from her.

It was simply better to stay at home. Or outside of the tribe, in areas where nobody else would find her. She did that even more, because then nobody could hear her angry screaming.

But all that wouldn't stop her now from breaking into where her father was being held in preparation. She may not be so old, or strong, or have the air of authority like her father or her aunts, but she could still match and beat most warriors in the tribe.

She also knew well enough how to sneak around guards. To her advantage, the warriors standing around the house where her father was kept were not the most attentive. There had been no problem since he was interred there. They had gotten sloppy.

They did not see her as she crawled on the ground near the cavern wall, edging closer and closer to the building. For crying out loud, they weren’t even watching the back wall! Granted, there was no window here, but still. Someone could break through the wall!

She knew her father would be able to, if he wanted.

She also knew that she might be able to enter through the thatch roof without too much noise. Mantises were rarely trained to be great in stealth. Sure, being quiet when stalking and ambushing your opponent was vital, but few tried to learn to go beyond that.

Perhaps another reason why others thought she was weird? Eh, it didn’t matter right now.

Climbing the house was childsplay, doing it quietly was more difficult, as in not doable by every child in the tribe. But Sibylli hadn’t been a child in quite some time. The weak spot was easy enough to find and widen into a hole large enough for her to slip through. Outside, the two guards were laughing about something.

Sibylli felt sick. They were laughing and having a grand old time. Meanwhile her life was in tatters. Sometimes, she was starting to misss the time when they had left the tribe. Sometimes, she thought about doing it again on her own.

Wriggling through the hole after carefully expanding it slightly took effort and she felt a bit awkward as her father watched her patiently. But he kept quiet and even raised his arms for if she were to fall down.

She didn’t, instead dropping down gracefully with barely a noise. Not that those two outside would even hear it. Sibylli felt proud about having accomplished this, though the conditions were barely a challenge. Even so, what was important was being with her father again. The moment she had landed, the nymph wrapped her arms around her father.

"You should not have visited me." Cretoma whispered into her ear, though both knew that he would not wish her away in this moment. "I don’t want you in any trouble."

"They already don’t like me, what are they going to do?" His daughter proclaimed angrily, also keeping her voice low.

"Why even sneak in? Do they not allow you to visit me?" He asked, a little bit confused. Sibylli didn’t respond right away.

She actually couldn’t remember her aunts disallowing it. Not that she asked. Why did she not ask? She still trusted her aunts, she knew she did. But not the rest of the tribe. And at this point, she was preferring doing things against them.

She was seperating herself from them, all on her own.

"I um, I just…" Sibylli stammered. Watching her father’s face change, adopting concern and this stupid scolding look, was too much for her. So Sibylli did the same thing that had brought her out of trouble before, improvise and latch onto the first thing in her head. "I just wanted to prove that I can do it!"

He didn't believe her. Probably because she herself didn’t. This was basically rebellion. Not what children do against their parents, but what outsiders do against their tribe. Cretoma could see it. But in the moment, he chose not to care.

"It doesn’t matter now. You are here and I am thankful for that." He said and slowly opened his arms again.

They held each other for several minutes and Sibylli simply let herself go. She stopped thinking about the tribe and how stupid so many have become. Stopped worrying about how justified this was because yes, father let his loyalty fall away but he hadn't been himself and this stupid dream thing was at fault but nobody seemed to care no matter how many times she said it.

"I love you dad." She whispered.

"No matter what happens tomorrow," He said. For some reason, his tone was giving her a bad feeling. "You will always be my daughter."

"They'll… They will accept you. After this stupid tournament, right?" Sibylli asked and she knew how desperate she sounded. "Everything just sucks! Everyone is talking bad about you, even a lot of those who were initially with us! And nobody cares, they all just took you to shove all the blame onto."

She hated how long it takes for her father to give an answer, because it conjures forth unwanted images and thoughts. That tomorrow wouldn't be enough, that nothing would change. Or, that something else would happen. Something horrible.

"It will be better." Cretoma eventually said, though he did not look his daughter in the eyes. "It won't be… good. But we can only do so much from our current position. There is simply not many ways for us to take. I am sorry, my sweet daughter."

Tears threatened to form in her eyes so Sibylli angrily banished them, splattering the droplets over the ground.

"I won't let them! If they try anything… if need be I will jump into that stupid arena myself!"

Despite everything, her father chuckled. "One thing giving me hope is your unbroken spirit."

He nuzzled her and she returned the gesture. It was perhaps the one time in the last few weeks were she had not felt entirely miserable and Sibylli tried to stretch the moment for as long as possible.

It could still not change the sinking feeling in her guts.

-o0o-

Radia felt ready to fight. She just wished they would actually get there. Everyone was asking all the time whether or not she was nervous or excited for it, while she just stood here being bored!

Apparently, the Colosseum of Fools was only accessible for a large amount of bugs by using the tram near the White Palace and then climbing up a serpentine road. A track that would take quite a while which meant a lot of preparations which meant a lot of boredom on her part.

Also apparently, using the spare time to train was a no-go. Both the Nailsage Sly and Wyrm himself had told her that she should not exhaust herself before the battle. Wyrm was already unhappy because he had found her training late yesterday, also something Sly had told her not to do. He had said that it was better to relax on the last day before a big event.

Radia respected the Nailsage, partially atleast. Didn’t mean she had to like what he said or listen to what he told her. She had learned quite well how strong and endurant her body was. So why shouldn’t she train a bit more? It didn’t take that much energy and it would reinforce her ability just that little bit more.

She knew her limitations! And she knew that she had not improved her skill as much as she could have.

The procession, it was really too many bugs for Radia’s taste, would mainly be transported via carriages ready on the tram platform they would arrive at. And Radia was expected to ride one  by the royals. Because they didn’t want her exhaust herself walking up a rather large incline.

Okay, that she could understand, but she still disliked it. It would be her first visit to the Kingdom’s Edge, as the whole area was nicknamed, her first personal experience of the area and they wanted her to spent it in an enclosed rumbling box!

All because "Oh you should not tire yourself out immediately." and "The common bug would see you before the grand reveal!".

Meanwhile the former god wanted to experience trudging through the quiet and windy caverns, fly through the snow-like flakes of the corpse of a great wyrm body.

But she wasn't allowed walk and flying was also not an option. But soon, she told herself, soon she would be able to fly anywhere she wanted to. None of Wyrm’s great Knights could fly, nor could his Kingsmoulds, she would be the strongest being in the air!

Soon!

First, she would have to fight in this stupid tournament. After that, it would all open for her. 

The preparations finally seemed to be finished up. For some inane reason they had carriages to bring them to the tram station, even though the one in the Basin really wasn’t that far away from the palace.

Radia sighed. However, as she moved to finally join Wyrm and Root in their moving box, no way in the Void would she consider having to share a carriage with some prattling nobles, something caught her eye.

A couple of Vessels were standing nearby, watching her with those big empty eyes of theirs. One of them had seven small horns, shaped in that wave-like way that Radia remembered from her old tribe's depictions of her. The other one was the Vessel that had endured.

They stared and she stared back, surprised. They were waiting, or expected something. How curious, especially since they clearly weren't here for their actual parents. No, they were here for her. She should find out why.

Slowly, Radia approached them lowered herself to kneel before the Vessels. Their respective height still meant that they had to tilt their heads back quite a bit but it was far less so than if she were to stand. “Now why are the two of you looking at me like that?”

There was no answer because of course there wasn’t. But saying nothing was stranger than talking with mute and still rather soulless beings.

“Are you here to wish me goodbye?” Radia said sarcastically, chuckling at her own joke. “What, are you actually worried that I might get hurt?”

She felt a chill on her right leg as the former Hollow Knight reached out and put their claw on her limb, staring up at her. There was a hint of pressure, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to convey something.

Radia was silent. Stunned, because it seemed she was right with her words.

Looking at their sibling, the other also reached out and held her other knee, though their pressing was a bit weaker. But still.

She did not know how to react to this. Sure, she had noticed quirks in the behaviour of some vessels but the same could be said about the Kingsmoulds. This… was this emotion? It was certainly something far more substantial.

Her wings were shuffling nervously. Two claws, only slightly trembling, reached out until she put them atop those smooth white heads. The vessels looked at her… almost as if confused.

“Well… you uh, don’t have to worry.” Her voice was without sarcasm, not as steady as before. She was touched by this moment but it also gave her uncertainty, for a reason she could not understand. “I’m sure that I can beat whoever is thrown at me. I survived against those Deepnest pests afterall. A-and anyway, this isn’t a fight to the death. I will be back at the end of the day."

They remained like this for what felt like an eternity. Then the moment was broken by calls for readiness from the procession. Hastily, Radia stood up. Somehow, she was glad for the break. It had felt…

No, she didn’t want to think about it right now.

But something was still not right and so she didn't leave. She looked down at the two of them. One reminded her of her old glory. The other, of her anger and her faults.

"You… you don't have names yet. Do you?" They both nodded in affirmation. It made her guts churn. It felt unfair.

But, then again. Perhaps she could help in this.

"Well. Why don't I give you some suggestions?" To Radia's satisfaction, both of the Vessels nodded vigorously.

The moth reached with one of her arms and put it on the Vessel's head, her claws going between the numerous wavy horns. "You… I think your name could be… Sun. It is… something from my old tribe. You remind me of its depictions with your horns, they look very good."

The Vessel visibly approved of the name, grasping her arm with its own small claws and wriggling in what Radia presumed was joy or happieness. She smiled, it felt good to help this one with such an important thing of its existence.

"As for you…" There wasn't any spark of inspiration for its name. Atleast nothing as good and benevolent. Radia could think of something but… "What do you think about… Hollow?"

The former goddess was much more uncertain about this one. But the name wouldn't leave her mind. The Vessel stared back at her and for a moment Radia wondered if it were possible that they could remember anything from its former existence.

But then, it nodded, slowly but with certainty. Radia smiled.

“Well, then, wish me a good fight!” She called as she stood up and quickly jogged over to the carriage where Wyrm and Root were already inside.

As she climbed aboard and the vehicle slowly went into motion, Radia couldn’t help but throw a look back at the courtyard. Sun and Hollow were watching the procession leave, no, watching her leave. They were by now joined by five of their siblings. Including, Radia was able to make out, Ghost.

Hesitantly, although part of her mind told her it was stupid, Radia lifted one of her arms and gave a small wave at the crowded vessels.

One by one, they lifted their own arms and imitated her motion.

The image would not leave her mind until they had finally reached the Colosseum.

Chapter Text

According to some of the more traditional members of her tribe, outsiders were incapable of achieving truly impressive things. It was a very prideful, borderline xenophobic attitude, and thankfully one that was starting to give way to a more open mindset. Sibylli knew that her aunts were making efforts to break the isolationism of the mantises, though progress was slow.

Still, even if the tribe was still sunken deep into their self-pride, Sibylli thought she would always be impressed by the Colosseum. It was a gargantuan thing, the entrance like a gaping maw surrounded by spikes.

That was, because it was a maw. The massive body of a great wyrm, turned into a fighting pit by some mad bug. Sibylli found herself respecting whoever had made this bold choice. They certainly had a taste for the epic.

Walking through a literal fanged maw towards the sound of battle? Very cool. It had actually managed to temporarily make her forget her worries. If only just a moment.

For now, the mantis delegation was mostly still outside the colosseum. While the anticipation was horrible to have to endure, Sibylli was able to dampen it by enjoying the sights. And there were a lot, even outside of the Colosseum itself.

The other delegations were also a sight to behold, especially to a young nymph who had not been exposed to the wider world too much. Groups of nobles and rich business bugs from the city of Hallow, each with their own retainers and entourages, which meant guards or what she thought were champions. Those were pretty to look at with jewelry and fine silks, though Sibylli didn’t exactly liked their attitudes.

Most nobles seemed very arrogant and their guards didn’t strike her as very martially proficient. Good enough to grant a manner of protection, sure, but not more. Still, they were interesting to look at, like an exotic animal or piece of artwork. Sibylli quickly moved to look at someone else.

The followers of the ‘Pale Couple’ as Perlama called the King and Queen were less ostentatious but much more competent looking. The royals themselves were not there, unfortunate because Sibylli had never laid eyes on them. But the rest of their delegation were still sufficient to marvel at.

The giant Hegemol, perhaps the greatest bug she had ever seen. A true mountain covered entirely in fine and sturdy metal armor, wielding a maul with a head larger than many other bugs could ever be. She really wanted to see him fight at one point. Maybe even duel him herself, though she knew that right now he was still outclassing her. By a lot.

Hegemol was conversing with another bug, but this one, Sibylli could not place. She was tall as well, though not nearly as much as her giant companion. Pale grey hair flowed from her mask to the ground, while four antennae moved around nervously. A greatnail was strung to her back and inbetween the hair, which covered the bug almost like a cloak, Sibylli could make out pale armour.

"Who are you?" She murmured to herself. Thankfully nobody was near her.

What was it about this one that caught the nymph's attention in such a manner? She was obviously someone high ranking, perhaps even another of the Great Knights, Sibylli had not seen or heard about all of them. Only Dryya and Hegemol, the strongest and longest in service to the Pale King. She wanted to fill this gap in knowledge, to learn more about this knight specifically.

She didn't even look like a warrior. No, that wasn't right. She looked like more than just a warrior. There was not just the stance and way of movement only someone trained to perfection in the art of fighting could have, there was a quality to it that Sibylli simply could not place.

It was only when something moved and broke the nymph's direct line of sight with the object of her fascination that Sibylli realized she had been staring something fierce. Quickly she turned, desperately looking around and finding the delegation of the Hive to focus on. But, she couldn't resist throwing glances back to the knights.

They had been joined by someone else.

The newcomer was enough to divert Sibylli's attention. She had never seen a moth herself, but her aunts had shown her depictions of them, so she figured this was one of them. They certainly fit the description, even though the proportions seemed inaccurate. This one was also incredibly tall, with four arms and four almost petal-like wings, covered in large parts in thick white fur.

Why was it that she was seeing so many interesting and unusual bugs today?! Was that just how things were outside of the tribe, or was today just unusual? Regardless, Sibylli was growing somewhat frustrated, because she would not be able to see these sights again once she returned to the tribe.

The moth seemed to converse with the two knights. Oh, how she longed to know what they were talking about. Surely it was more interesting that her own tribe's people, who were really just commenting negatively about everyone else, complaining, or speculating about who her father would be fighting.

If she was more courageous and direct, Sibylli would just leave her tribe. In fact, why didn't she just do that? Leave them for today, they would only glare at her anyway and refuse to talk. Not that the nymph wanted to talk with them anyhow. That knight was who she wanted to talk to.

Yeah, she would do that. Sibylli tried to breath the courage into herself to just waltz over there and strike up a conversation. Royal knight or not, why shouldn't she just do that? She would just do that-

Sibylli only had looked away for a moment to gather herself up. When she looked back, she found herself trapped by a set of deep golden eyes. They were piercing her, striking into her soul and paralyzing her on the spot.

The nymph was hearing something. Memories resurfaced, of when her father had been gripped by madness. She had heard him at night, speaking in his sleep. Speaking of this light that brought him power, that promised him the world.

Something was bubbling in her veins. Unbearable warmth spread quickly through her body.

She was hearing screams.

When it suddenly stopped, it was a miracle Sibylli didn't collapse on the spot.

-o0o-

"Most consider it rude to stare." The rumbling voice of Hegemol was chiding her.

Radia just 'tsked' in response, glaring down the mantis still. "Then how about you go to that one and tell her that? She has been sizing you up for the last few minutes."

"We are aware." The giant bug replied casually. "But bugs tend to stare at us and there is no harm. What makes you different is that you look like you want to kill her. And you are calling her out with that. I see it as rude and others might too."

Annoyed, Radia looked back at the knight. The fact that he was one of the few she had to look up herself was not what bothered her. She simply did not have the best memories of him, considering events after her arrival in this reality.

"Please do not bring that up." He said before the former goddess could even start speaking. "I do not fully know what you and our Liege have had between you, but I am only His dutiful knight. And I also doubt anybody wants what happened to escape into the wider public."

"Fine." Radia huffed and looked around. Everyone was waiting for something, most likely the King and Queen finishing up speaking with the ruler of the colosseum. Or whatever else they were doing in there. Her golden eyes moved to Ze'mer, who hadn't spoken yet and overall seemed to behave rather nervously. "What about you? That mantis was staring at you specifically. You got history?"

Hegemol chuckled but Ze'mer just shook her head. "Nia, Nym'lady. Che' has had none interactions with this tribe… though che' has to admit fascination, for they are of a singular martialistic persuasion. Worthy of great admiration and respect. Great warriors they are, Ai, as many say."

"Yes, very fascinating my friend." The large bug said, gently elbowing his colleague to tease her. Radia simply looked between them, not entirely knowing what sort of joke she was missing out on. "But it is true. The mantis tribe is well known for being a traditionalist warrior tribe. They like to keep to themselves and shun a lot of our kingdom's greater advancements, but they are still respected. By most. Anyhow, I have heard they recently had some troubles during the Infection. Something about a fracture in leadership."

Something was scratching at Radia's memory. She of course remembered that time period, but not many of the details of Hallownest's fate. What happened with Wyrm and Root, Hornet's slow journey of growth in the ruins of her home, the slow spiral of death of a civilization, this she knew. But she barely remembered much about the specifics, what happened in certain places.

Yet, she felt like there was something, something that had to do with the mantis tribe. What had that been?

"Ulll, tis would seem moul'wait is over finally. Nym'Queen and King are to make their speech." Indeed, Wyrm and Root exited the maw of the Colosseum, a bug with a most impressive mask walking besides them. It was somewhat amusing to Radia that even him, most likely the ruler of this place, was taller than Wyrm by a bit.

And as Ze'mer had indicated, a speech followed. Radia simply tuned it out. It was filled with political pleasantries, fancy words, thanks and congratulations for being here. It was prattle for lesser bugs and she didn't care for it.

But finally, things began to move, literally. Bugs began to stream towards the entrance, filing in and being directed to their respective loges. Meanwhile, the champions would be filtered to seperate chambers to prepare, which was also what Radia would be doing.

Many gave her glances as they moved past, in curiosity and in the case of some of the champions, clear interest in whether she would participate. Radia flexed her claws, she was looking forward to show them what she would be able to do.

"Apologies, Nym'lady, Hegemol. Tis be where che' has to depart, for Nym'king has given a task of importance." Ze'mer bowed as she spoke. Hegemol nodded, seeming as if he was already entirely aware. Radia herself just shrugged.

"Good luck to you then."

"To thee as well, Nym'lady. Che' wishes great success in thine battle." And with that, Ze'mer moved through the crowd, disappearing in the throng of bugs with surprising ease.

"Well, I suppose I should get moving then as well. Can't let them wait for me, afterall." Radia spoke out loud. She turned as Hegemol chuckled again. The large knight regarded her as if she was now part of a joke only he was aware of. "What?"

He simply shrugged, which spurred Radia's irritation even more. She had half a mind to press him for more answers, but decided against it. What would he be willing to tell her anyway?

"I expect you to cheer at least, consider it making up for your less than friendly behavior when we met previously." She shouted back, making her way through the bugs.

Hegemol just looked after Radia, shaking his massive head. He knew who she would be facing. He knew why and what would happen during it. It was unlikely that there would be much to cheer about for the moth.

Though, he was still kinda looking forward to it.

-o0o-

The Mantis tribe had been given their own, sizable loge. Their three lords, about a dozen other important members, and Sibylli. Her father was in his own 'cage', as the workers of the Colosseum called the chambers for the fighters. It was making her sick.

The nymph was feeling bad overall. Tistina had to gently pull her along, after finding her in the crowd. She had asked again and again, what was wrong, did something happen? There was no answer. Because Sibylli couldn't formulate one.

Whenever she actually tried, those golden eyes burned themselves into her mind again. It robbed her of an answer. What would that even be? A bug with unnatural eyes had been staring at her, making her lose her cool? That she, for some reason, had remembered the time of her father's betrayal?

Nothing here made sense and so Sibylli kept quiet, trying to shake off this feeling. But it hadn't helped that something felt just overall bad in this place. So, the nymph sat, lost in her own mind, as duels passed by in a blurr.

Various champions of noble houses or other wealthy bugs fought against each other. They were alright, a match perhaps to the common mantis warrior. But nothing against any of the elite, or the Lords themselves. Even Sibylli could have likely bested all of them with ease. Maybe not in her current state, but most of the time.

The first nine battles were over disappointingly fast. The last one dragged itself a bit. One of the contestants was an arrogant bug in red armor with two long nails that he wielded like short spears. His opponent, a knight of the Hive, was equally skilled with her own weapon.

It took a full four minutes for the bee to best her opponent, driving him to the ground without weapon. The moment the crowd began to cheer for the victor, the defeated bug stormed away in a tantrum. Sibylli barely payed attention.

Ten battles, then a break was called. Chatter arose from the loges, as well as the common bugs below them, who were overall much more excited by the spectacle. One of her aunts was saying something but Sibylli didn't hear it. She wanted to be home.

Tistina was shaking her shoulder again, trying to get her niece to pay attention to her. Far too sluggishly, Sibylli looked at her.

"Sibs, come on. We have to move." The rest of the tribe was filtering out to spend the break in one of the lounging areas reserved to the upper crust of the spectators.

Reluctantly, Sibylli moved, wondering why her aunt had been so insistent. While everyone seemed to be somewhere between bored or slightly amused by the recent battles, her aunts all seemed to almost anticipate something.

Sibylli wanted to be gone. She didn't even know if she could stomach her father's fight. Or anything else. Why was she so unsettled?

During the entire thing, as the nymph was doing her best to sink into the soft cushion of a corner seat of the break room, she couldn't shake this feeling.

Thankfully the break didn't last long, or perhaps the nymph had simply zoned out. Perlama was talking over the commotion, addressing the rest of the tribe.

"-so we will be in their loge for the rest of the event." The assembled tribe members made their disdain and displeasure known and despite everything, this was what roused Sibylli somewhat. It made her angry how they thought themselves so much better. "Calm down everyone. It is necessary. Doesn't mean you can't watch the duels. Now, the better combatants should be there."

This made some of them give approving noises. As gongs were rung, the observers, nobles, and dignitaries returned to their lodges as below them, the common bug streamed back onto their seats.

Sibylli just remained seated, watching everyone leave. Her aunts all moved into a different corridor, towards where the Pale Royals would be. As they did, they all threw her a look over their shoulder towards her…

Wait. What?

Why were they all looking so sad?

Sibylli was about to rise, before someone suddenly loomed over her.

She was tall, taller when standing right before her. Long white hair covered her like a cape, obscuring a gentle face and pale metal armor. A greatnail was strapped to her back.

The young mantis had not seen her approach, nor heard her. She didn't know from where the strange bug had appeared from. Or why. Only, that the intruder was here for her.

As her aunts and her tribe both disappeared, Sibylli was left alone, blocked into her seat by a Great Knight of the Pale King.

The message was clear, she was not allowed to rise. The nymph was to remain seated, as her tribe split and left. She tried to lean and peer past the knight, only to see nobody appearing to notice her missing. And that was only for a second, for the knight immediately shifted. She was intentionally blocking their line of sight.

And in the noise, there would be no way for them to hear her. If the knight would even allow her to make herself know.

Sibylli stared up at her and a shiver ran down her spine. Her aunts knew, while her tribe was left unaware.

They waited, looking at each other while the noise began to die down. As bugs filtered into loges, doors were closed and the outside corridors and rooms were left in quiet. What sounds came from the arena was muffled, barely audible. Logically speaking, they would now be even less likely to hear her, were anything to happen.

Only now was Sibylli painfully aware of the fact that she carried no weapon on herself. There had simply never been the inkling of her needing to use one. What unarmed capabilities she possessed would be next to useless, relative to one of the fabled Great Knights, armed with their preferred nail.

"W-what is going on?" Sibylli demanded, hating how unsteady her voice was in face of this sudden change.

To her surprise, the knight bowed. "Nahlo, Nym'lady. Tis be a plot most secretive, one thou hast not been informed of, but which concerns thyself at its center."

"…w-wha?" The nymph choked out. This revelation was only part of the shock. She had never heard this knight speak and her strange pattern of words was both confusing and… enticing. It made her shell tingle in a way different to earlier occurrences, decidedly more pleasant. Especially when she had been called Nym'lady. The first part she did not know the meaning of, but lady? Nobody had called Sibylli that before.

"Che' knows how little Nym'lady wouldst have reason to trust mel'words. Time et circumstance are most suspicious, yet all this be for thine benefit. Che' has to ask thee to stand et move. Tis place, chou' shall not remain at."

"Sorry but… what is happening? What is all of this about and whose plan is this?!" Sibylli began to raise her voice, yet the knight did not move to quiet her. It was a grim reminder how unlikely it was that any bug would be able to help her. Then, a realization hit her like cold water.

"Wait. You are a knight of the Pale King. Who organized all of this, for everyone to assemble here. And my aunts…" The strange bug simply nodded three times, once for every claim made by the nymph. "They are in on this!"

"Ai, Nym'lady. Now, please, chou' have to move. Trust might not be freely given, yet it is required. Please, believe in thine family, for all of them hast agreed."

All of them. There was an implications, for the knight had not simply named her aunts. But that couldn't be, right? Or could it?

"…n-not like I have a choice then?" Sibylli spoke coldly and slowly stood up, the knight giving her space to do so.

"Che' wouldst disagree, for choice is every bug's blessed right. But truth is to be told, so che' hast to admit that mel'liege commanded for thee to be brought to the place agreed upon." The threat was left unspoken and in favor of the strange bug, she did not sound as if using force was something she desired at all.

Sibylli just forced herself to remain calm and  walked next to her impromptu escort. She refused to think of this as a kidnapping. But still, she began looking for weapons or anything she might snatch on the way to defend herself.

Alas, no opportunity presented herself, for the knight proved too observant to allow for anything. The nymph quietly fumed, wishing for nothing more than to know what was going on.

They went down flights of stairs, passing by empty corridors, even as they descended into parts of the colosseum that looked like they were intended for workers of the place. The lack of any other bug was putting her on edge. It felt too artificial, as if the path had been cleared. Not by force either, for there were no signs of it. Most likely, another part of this grand conspiracy.

The knight brought her into a room, now below the ground floor itself. Benches, empty weapon racks, and other furniture made it clear that this was a waiting room for combatants. And again, it was empty.

"Now, it be that chou' will have to wait." The knight proclaimed sullenly, closing the door behind her. She gestured to a latch on one side of the room. It wasn't big but situated high up. Not a problem for Sibylli, considering a mantis' natural height. "This, thou may use to observe the duels."

"And what use should that give me?" Sibylli asked, intentionally  sharpening her tone. Not only was she aggrivated by all of this, she wanted to test this knight.

The bug remained entirely calm. And yet, her next words send another shiver down her spine.

"Thine father. His fight will be soon. And his opponent shall be the Pale King's… Nym'liege's own champion."

-o0o-

Radia would never admit to being nervous. She was. She would just never admit it, not to anyone.

Well, except maybe the Vessels. And not just because they would keep it a secret. She, in a strange way that she was unable to explain, simply trusted them the most. But none of them were here. Barely any mask that she could consider pleasant or friendly was here.

And now she was sitting in a small room with a lift on the other end, her longnail balanced on her legs. Waiting to finally be called and find out who she would be fighting.

Radia laughed. Really, this was sort of what she had crawled out of the Abyss for. To experience the world, see new sights, find new things. Even now, the anticipation was something entirely new to her. Not something entirely pleasant, but she could endure.

Atleast she would if things wouldn't take too long. There was nothing else to do. And somehow, right now she actually wasn't in the mood to go through her training again. Even though Radia had done so over the last day, at least in her mind. Running through instructions again and again, mentally visualizing attacks and defenses. It had helped with the urge to perform them physically.

Radia wished Hornet was here. The child was a wonderful distraction and playing with her never failed to provide entertainment and advance time sufficiently. She could use both of those things right about now.

On a nearby table was some food and water but neither seemed particularly enticing. She only sipped some of the clear liquid to give herself something to do, but nothing more. Nothing changed how nervous she was.

The former goddess perked up when she heard two bugs quickly move past her chamber. Something about them felt familiar, but before she could think more about this, a group of workers entered.

"Wonder where those two are off to?" One of them chattered. Another gave a crude remark, winking at the others who laughed.

"Shut up everyone, we need to work." The leader called them to order. None of them seemed to really care for the fact that Radia could hear them. It was slightly insulting.

"Alright then, please step onto that plattform. Don't move, keep your arms to yourself and just relax. Everyone else, positions!"

Radia sighed and stood up. The workers bustled around her, preparing the lift and getting ready to raise it up to the arena.

The former goddess stepped onto the plattform, trying not to flinch as large spikes rose up around her. Why did they even have to put spikes on their elevators? It gave her uncomfortable memories, being trapped like this.

On some signal, or perhaps just deciding for themselves when it was appropriate, the worker bugs began using some form of mechanical contraption to lift the cage upwards. The ceiling opened as she approached it, parting to let her through to the arena itself.

“-and against him, today’s favored champion of the Pale King himself! In her, as I am told, debut match! RADIA!”

For a moment, she felt blind and deaf. Adrift in a void of blinding light and numbing noise. Her chitin felt like small bugs were running beneath it. The sensation had crashed upon her without warning.

Too slow yet also too fast, things aligned again. She pressed her eyes together and opened them again, seeing now finally the sand covered arena, the stands raised above it. The colorful banners everywhere.

Bugs cheered and expressed their surprise at her. Through the light, now only nearly blinding, from far too many lanterns and spotlights, she could see commoners staring at her. To them, she was exotic, a wonder. Once, she might have enjoyed that, as a goddess only could when faced with such awe.

Now, it only managed to make Radia feel even more uncomfortable. A thought entered her mind, what if someone would remember her? Was that even possible?

There was barely any time to think about it, as a loud noise behind her pulled her attention. Far too late, Radia realized that she had been facing the wrong direction, her opponent was behind her. She turned.

In front of the former goddess, a mistake stared back.

He was smaller than she remembered and his eyes lacked the piercing orange. But she remembered him. A coldness began seeping through her body.

His name was Cretoma, that she could recall. Radia could also recall with sudden clearity, memories sparked and brought forth by the living bug in front of her, of what she had done to him.

The infectious dreams were a terrible thing, taking possession of resting bugs and refusing to ever let go. It preyed on desires, wishes, and ambitions, twisted them in her own favor. Normal bugs attacked their fellows, sowing chaos and bringing down the kingdom around them.

But there had been some, she remembered, that had received more direct visions. Those who had been personally chosen and changed by her, being given offers and promises in their dreams. And when they awoke they were changed. It had been each bug's choice, but one they were compelled, enticed to make. Unknowing of the true cost.

Bugs were weak after all. That was what the Radiance had thought back then, in utter disdain. Weakness, for they followed whoever gave them the most enticing promise. Power, dominance, success. And they followed and brought themselves and others to doom.

Cretoma, he had sought a way to maintain the strength of his tribe. He had wished to ensure its survival, no, its prosperity. So that his family would never have to worry about anything ever again. It had been his undoing, for she had corrupted him into a madman.

In the end, his dream, the dream she had given him, the nightmare which he had followed, it all resulted in horrible bloodshed.

Hegemol's words came to Radia's mind. Was this what was happening? As punishment for his treachery, he was forced to fight for them. And Radia was supposed to be the one fighting him. Perhaps not to the death, but…

Radia gripped her nail tighter. Opposite her, Cretoma tensed into a fighting position, though his eyes were wide and staring right back at her. Did he recognize her? If not the common bug who had been plagued by her Infection, than most certainly someone like him.

Did it even matter?

The announcer was ramping up, getting ready to give the call to start this duel.

Radia felt like her entire body was a spring, coiled up as tight as possible. She moved into a stance that Sly had taught her over and over. At least her training was still present, allowing her limbs to move on their own while her mind still roiled and churned.

She forced down the panic of her memories, tried to subdue the nervous anxiety running rampant under her chitin. She could do this.

If only her heart would stop hurting.

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