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Chapter Text

All she could remember was that awful stench. 

It greeted her nose faster than she realised the danger they were in. A fatal mistake to make, and one that cost her greatly.

How great that cost was, she would soon find out.

The large, stinky wardenfly then tossed both their cages into a wagon and started to slowly push the creaking thing through the caverns of the Far Fields. If memory serves right, such flies were native to the Slab, Lace thought amidst the bumpy ride. 

She patted her sides. As expected, all her possessions were gone. 

Her golden pin clattered around the floor of the wagon, tantalisingly within reach, but the intricate design of the cage bars prevented her from squeezing a limb through. Whatever loose rosaries she had were also confiscated, strung up in a long string that dangled from her captor’s waist. Her cylindrical cage was extremely cramped and a terribly uncomfortable way to–

Hold on.

Lace looked to her right. 

Hornet wasn’t moving.

Lace was a little dramatic at times, yes. She didn't deny that. She and her sister made up for Mother’s stone-cold demeanour with their theatrics and banter. The hunter herself even lamented on how annoying she was to her face. More than once.

Despite that, it wasn’t too far off the mark to say that seeing Hornet like that made Lace's heart drop.

It was always hard to tell when the spider’s eyes were closed, thanks to the two black holes in her mask that were her eyes. Unlike Lace’s more expressive white eyes, it was easy to mistake Hornet for being awake when she was asleep, and vice versa.

She sincerely hoped it was the former. Though, upon closer inspection, the silken being realised that the hunter was well and truly unconscious.

Lace eyed their cages closely. 

A faint, white glimmer confirmed it. 

Runes. Strong ones at that. Similar to those on the cages made specifically to catch runaway Weavers and bring them to Mother. Lace herself knew how to undo such seals, having sent one of her glowing butterflies to free Hornet right as she was about to enter the Citadel so long ago.

The current lack of butterflies made things much harder.

She contemplated yelling at the fly, but thought better of it. Slaves to the Citadel they were, to atone for a sin so old and forgotten that most records left were in word of mouth alone. That probably made flies extremely dedicated to their jobs, albeit begrudgingly.

She wasn’t talking her way out of this.

Lace turned to face Hornet again, studying the half-Weaver.

Her red cloak was gone, robbing her of extremely useful traps and items she enjoyed using in fights. Lace winced at the memory of stepping on dozens of poisoned tacks when they crossed blades in the Cradle. They hurt like hell. And those pesky cogflies who kept throwing her off between aerial strikes. They too stung of a purple poison that tipped the battle in the hunter’s favour.

So unfair.

Her long needle was next to Lace’s pin, the two formidable blades being rather useless out of the hands of their wielders. Lace wondered what the remaining pinmasters and pinstresses of Pharloom would say, seeing such a skilled duo get bested by a single fly. Not only were they beaten by one oversized insect, this wasn’t even Hornet’s first time getting captured.

Surely she knew better than this?

The runes on Hornet’s cage seemed to pulse with a life of their own, or at the very least in sync with the spider’s own heartbeat. Brighter and dimmer shone the runes, whereas Lace’s cage remained dull throughout. 

The silken being exhaled softly so as to not alert the wardenfly. This was going to be a long day…

The Slab was as uninviting as ever, and reeked of many an unwashed night. 

The chill from the nearby Mount Fay seeped through the cracks of the prison, into the bones of every poor bug who was foolish enough to get captured and their jailers alike. There was minimal lighting and a lot of dust. And a lot of flies. 

Swarms and swaths of flies ran throughout the Slab. While the Silk-Haunted were likely dead by now, Lace severely underestimated how many were left alive and kicking. 

Guards and scabs shepherded penitent pilgrims, both of whom have yet to realise that the sway of the Citadel over the Slab was no more, where capturing sinful pilgrims did little to improve the state of Pharloom at large. Freshflies buzzed around like grey gnats. A disgrace to the fly species. Wardens streamed in from the entrance, each dumping one or two occupied cages for the guards to deal with, before leaving to park the wagons.

The Slab felt like a living organism, dying with each slow breath it took to sustain its miserable existence.

As such, the ladies were both dropped unceremoniously to the floor with two loud bangs. Lace groaned, rubbing her head. Thank goodness she had no mask or shell to crack. Silken masks withstood blunt force with ease, though the pain was rarely dulled.

Hornet was still out cold.

Their cages were pried open, prompting Lace to try and bolt for the exit immediately. “Unhand me fiends!” She writhed and struggled in the strong grasps of several flies working together. “Put me down! I shouldn’t be here!”

The bold claim drew a cacophony of laughter from all around, to which a young scabfly replied. “Tha’s gotta be them oldest trick in the book! Think yer can fool us, sinner?” 

They whooped and cheered alongside their kindred while another fly spoke up. “Just like us, yer are. Damned to be ‘ere,” said a guard with drunken gusto. Lace narrowed her eyes at the dark, goopy slush in their cup. It looked like drinking it would shorten one’s lifespan greatly. And yet, the fly downed another gulp, attempting to raise a glass to a fellow fly across the room.

“Yer ain’t goin’ anywhere, that’s for sure!”

They then eventually set Lace down on the floor when a good dozen flies had both ladies surrounded in a ring.

She grunted and stood tall, hiding her shaky hands by putting them on her hips to seem more confident, more cockier. “Hm? Is that a challenge, my good fly? I’ve cut down foes more skilled than you are, who were able to tell their right from left.”

The flies laughed harder as the insulted guard fumed. Sharp wits were a rarity, but they loved good banter like anyone else. In their eyes, Lace was extremely entertaining.

The silken being was about to run for it again until she heard someone unsheath a blade.

She whipped around, hands up and ready to fight. That was, until she registered what she saw. 

A wardenfly held Hornet up by one of her horns, angling her head to the side so that her neck was exposed. His other hand pressed the hunter’s own needle against her throat, presenting ever so lightly as a threat.

“Calm yer pants lass,” he spat, drawing the needle closer to Hornet’s neck when Lace gasped. “This one’s important to both o’ us. Would hate hurting fresh meat so soon. Don’t think you wanna see what happens if this here needle moves, eh?” 

Hornet hung there limply, unreactive and still out cold.

Lace couldn’t risk the wardenfly’s threats, and even if he was bluffing, carrying the stupid spider out of the Slab while outrunning an army was impossible at best. So, she backed down. Reluctantly.

The wardenfly smirked and tossed Hornet to the ground like a sack of Silk. “Good choice.”

Lace had to suppress every fibre in her being that screamed for her to thrash and resist as jailers dragged the both of them into some dank, cold cell. She felt any remaining confidence she thought she had disappear as the lock clicked.

And clicked again. 

And clicked again.

And again, going up to around ten clicks.

Oh boy.

Not good.

Chapter Text

“...ider–”

“...ello? You’re not resp–”

“...rnet–?”

The fuzziness in her mind and the dark edges near her vision promptly disappeared as Lace shook her by the shoulders. She was yelling… something… but she couldn’t quite make it out. She could see Lace move her mouth but everything was deadly silent. Not a peep. Not even her own heartbeat.

And then Lace slapped her. Hard. Quite possibly harder than necessary.

“Spider! You’re scaring me. Quit looking stupid and say someth–”

“I’m awake.”

The silken fencer sighed with relief, releasing her iron grip on Hornet’s shoulders. Hornet then nearly toppled over right then and there if it weren’t for Lace’s fast reflexes. She was about to tease the hunter for losing her balance so laughably easy before she noticed just how weak Hornet was. 

It looked like simply keeping her head up was extremely tiring, and her hands were slack with exhaustion. She was leaning heavily on Lace’s arms and could barely speak loud enough to be heard. 

Concerning? Very.

Hornet managed to string together more words, praying they were intelligible. Just staying awake was hard enough; the last thing she needed to do was frustrate the both of them with poor communication.

“Lace…” she spat, formalities be damned. “They’re everywhere.” She shifted, bare skin brushing against the pulsating white glyphs on the floor. “Everywhere.”

Lace made a face. 

She was half-hoping that the runes on the cage would wear off soon, but it seemed like the flies took a few pages out of the Skarr in Hunter’s March and practically doused the entire cell with things to inconvenience them. Lace finally noticed that the door, some floor tiles, the walls and the lock itself were burned white with runes of sealing. Most notably was the one Hornet was sitting on at the moment, reacting to the Weaver’s presence.

Lace hurriedly dragged Hornet away from that specific floor tile and watched the runes fade. 

“Oh. That was easy,” she quipped. “So all we have to do is keep you away from the runes and you’ll be fine, right?”

Hornet leaned against an untouched section of the wall, breathing heavily both in annoyance and lethargy. Out of everyone in Pharloom to be stuck with… 

“Yes, yes. Delightfully easy.” She stood up shakily. “Until you realise that escaping means exiting the Slab through either Mount Fay, or the bellways.”

“You can call your Bellbeast friend, can’t you?”

Hornet sighed and put a hand to her mask. “The route to the bellways is crawling with flies, Lace. And before you say that we can leave through Mount Fay, please understand that I’ll freeze to death within half a minute.”

“Ah.”

Hornet didn’t blame her. It sometimes slipped her mind that Lace wasn’t any biologically similar to her as she was to a rock. She was effectively a sentient spool of Silk, and thus didn’t need to brave harsh weather conditions or deal with long periods deprived of food and drink. Lace could eat, yes, but claimed that doing so was just a pastime, not necessity. Her immunity to temperature was also demonstrated when the duo had taken a trip to the Deep Docks a while back, with Lace virtually unaffected by close proximity to molten magma.

It was strange, dealing with Lace. She felt so familiar to the vessel in Hallownest. Her sibling who’d united the void and killed a god. Both beings were made to fulfil some grand predestined fate. And similarly, both beings sought out their own fates, no strings attached. Her sibling didn’t usurp the Hollow Knight. Lace didn’t let her get captured and taken to Grandmother Silk.

It was almost poetic in a way. 

Twice, Hornet had witnessed the fall of a kingdom from glory. The death of a god. Received help from an unlikely source. And the outcomes of both encounters were not entirely what she expected.

Hornet dragged herself away from the wall, purposefully stepping on unaffected floor tiles. Regardless if Lace could see the unactivated runes, their mere presence felt like blisteringly hot coal near her feet. They were aching, waiting for one wrong move from Hornet so that they could light up and ensnare her like prey.

Lace noted her strange approach and used a discarded metal rod to mark out the affected tiles with Xs. It earned a hum of approval from Hornet. 

Lace shrugged playfully. “What can I say? You’ve taught me well in our time together, spider.” She finished marking out the rune-drawn tiles and leaned on the metal rod like she’d often do with her pin. “I’d hate to see you weakened by simply stepping on the wrong place.”

It sounded like a tease, but they both understood the gravity of the situation. Lace wouldn’t be able to escape without Hornet’s mental map of the Slab. Hornet can’t brute force her way through without Lace to fall back on for help. They needed to work together to get out.

They shared a brief glance before nodding in wordless agreement, spreading out to survey the lay of their shared cell.

The locked door was at the front, boasting an impressive ten padlocks from the outside. To the door’s left was a wall, a few buckets, chains and a suspended wooden plank that served as an uncomfortable bench. To the door’s right was a wall that seemed to connect to a neighbouring cell, only separated by a single metal fence. Opposite the door was a simple undecorated wall whose upper centre had a ventilation grate.

“We could try the vents,” Lace thought aloud, one hand under her chin as she inspected the cell. “That’s assuming they haven’t reinforced its security since the last time you’ve been here.”

“We shall assume the worst case scenario, and pretend that the vents are trapped with runes,” Hornet said, eyeing the opening. “And the ventilation systems were not something I had mapped prior to this. We could get lost easily and wind up jailed again.”

“I’m being optimistic here, spider.”

“And I’m being pragmatic.” 

“You’re shooting down my ideas without reason!”

“Is caution not reason enough for you, woven one?”

“V-v-voices, this sentinel hears. One it recognises,” came an unexpected comment from the cell next door. The automation’s head twitched to the side, before it crossed its arms over chest as it would to greet Hornet. “H-hail, red maiden and c-company.”

Hornet gasped. What was it doing here? Why was it kept in a cell like theirs? Why was it still armed? 

Lace walked up to the rightmost wall and peered through the metal fence to get a better view at this new face. It was exactly the same as Hornet had left it in the Citadel; whole and in one piece. Two feathered plumes were attached to the vertex of its triangular head, mimicking insect antennae. A white cloth covered its torso and had the symbol of the Citadel inscribed in gold: a circle set upon a line, with an arc curving up from the right. Its eyes were pure white, its limbs were black (like Hornet) and its shell was gilded with aged gold. 

It was, no doubt, the Second Sentinel.

“Hail, machine,” Lace said, peeking through gaps in the separating fence. “We seem to share a similar plight.”

Hornet nimbly jumped across X-marked tiles to stand next to Lace. “Greetings, sentinel. What cause did the jailers find in you that was deemed worthy of imprisonment?”

“N-n-none in this sentinel. Contradictory, it feels.”

Lace rested an elbow against the fence, propping her head up by the chin. “I didn’t know that flies could deem automations as sinners. Or is your prison time due to something else entirely?”

The sentinel twitched again, which the duo interpreted as a nod. “Precautions, is this s-sentinel,” it droned in its monotone. “Against the Silk t-t-that ensnares bug and beast.”

Hornet frowned. “We’ve long since cleared the Citadel of Haunted bugs, friend. Do their numbers surge greatly? If so, this is the first I hear of it.” “Me too,” added Lace. A sudden increase in more Haunted bugs was a genuine cause of concern. They would need to be dealt with swiftly after escaping.

The Second Sentinel shook its head with a rattling noise. Its mechanisms clicked like a clock as it spoke. “N-nay. This sentinel is b-being used as a precaution here, in the S-slab. The flies wish to seek out m-more Silk. This sentinel is k-kept to safeguard t-t-those of sound mind if things go awry.” 

That… complicated things.

Lace, quick of wit and slow to consider her words, immediately pieced together the bigger picture. “So we’re being kept here as sources of Silk,” she said, eyes widening. “To be harvested by the flies, who want to live longer. And you’re here to cut down those who become Haunted.”

“I believe the remaining flies want to harness Silk to extend their lifespans due to their Broodmother being dead,” Hornet said in a deadpan. “I personally saw to it that they bred less, but failed to consider their actions in the future.” She didn’t filter out her distaste for the flies; why would she? This second imprisonment should all the more fuel her hatred for flies as a species.

Lace let out an “eugh” of disgust, appalled. This was no way to treat sovereign beings like herself! To have her Silk harvested would be to die. An undignified, ungracious end for the likes of herself. She quite enjoyed her current existence and wished to keep it like that as long as she could. Which meant escaping the Slab as soon as possible.

Hornet turned to the sentinel again. “And your escape, gilded one? Have you tried?” She hoped that the sentinel could provide useful information regarding how many flies would be patrolling the entire Slab itself.

“N-nay, red maiden. Escape, t-this sentinel cannot,” it lamented, twitching somewhat. “Held c-c-captive by a tampered core.” It pointed to its torso, where Hornet had placed the Cogwork Core. “In pieces, is its c-core. Goes offline, p-p-periodically, this sentinel, with an incomplete core. Rebooted by the flies, e-every so often."

Lace sighed. “Greeaaat. So we have a team whose strengths are outshone by their weaknesses. A trap-less, tool-less hunter who cannot walk out the door without ample heat and is sensitive to runes strewn everywhere. A machine who can’t function long enough without falling asleep, and makes sounds loud enough to alert anybody nearby. And I can’t navigate the area unarmed, lest they unravel me on the spot. Terrific." She sat down on the floor, her back against the metal fence, facing away from the Second Sentinel.

“So quick to fall into despair,” Hornet observed, opting to remain standing to avoid the runes on the floor. “To combat despair, I suggest we take stock of what we have and what skills each of us have to lend to our egress.”

The sentinel shuddered, its joints clinking against its shell loudly. “Is soon t-t-to fall into slumber, this sentinel. It s-seeks to speak first, if possible.” After both Hornet and Lace nod in agreement, the sentinel continued. “To answer the r-red maiden: trained in the n-needle arts, impervious to m-m-most wounds and armed is this sentinel. It awaits your commandments, fair ladies.”

Lace spoke up after it. “Well, I suppose my skills would include my pin skills and that Mount Fay’s climate is of no issue to me, if we ever take any routes through it. I should mention that any damage to my silken body won’t heal naturally anymore, unless spider dearest uses her Silk to bind my wounds.”

Hornet rolled her eyes at Lace’s jab. “My skills are my mastery over my needle, my experience in using tools and crafting traps, as well as the ability to jump once again while airborne, if my cloak is returned. Otherwise I can simply craft a makeshift needle to serve as a harpoon for scaling walls.”

“And that should be everything,” Lace said as she watched the sentinel’s eyes darken. “Unless someone’s keeping secrets that would greatly help our escape plan, like perhaps having ten different keys to undo ten different locks?” She glanced at the still body of the sentinel, who’d exhausted its power supply from its damaged core. “... and there goes one of us."

Quick as a flash, Hornet hissed at Lace to cover up the X-markings on the floor where they’d highlighted tiles with runes on them. “A guard will come to reboot the sentinel. We can’t let them see this.”

After partially erasing the markings, the hunter then pretended to lay on the floor, still as can be, mimicking her unconscious form earlier. Lace sat around idly starting into space, trying to figure out how to act despondent and lost.

The door to the room opened and light poured in from the crack. Hornet started taking as many mental notes as she could while pretending to be out cold. 

Time to learn the guards’ schedules. 

Chapter Text

Sadly, flies weren’t as stupid as Hornet gave them credit for. 

The wardenfly immediately banged one fist against Lace and Hornet’s cell, making a terrific noise that startled the fencer. “Oi! I see you! You! Yes, the spidery one,” he called out from beyond the bars, eyeing Hornet’s prone form on the floor. “Yer fakin’ it, pah. Get up!” He banged the bars again and Hornet finally sat up, but slower than she ought to, mimicking an injured bug who’d just woken up.

Best to keep the guards guessing.

Seated to the left of the door, Lace scoffed and raised one eyebrow. “Status and area are mutually exclusive, warden. Just because we’re here doesn’t mean we did anything to deserve to be here. Surely, there has been a mistake?” She sounded hopeful for a moment. 

If only escape were that easy…

The fly laughed deeply, simultaneously opening the Second Sentinel’s cell and dragging the poor automation out like a piece of furniture. “The Citadel’s a bunch o’ hollerin’ nobodies now,” the wardenfly noted, glancing at the insignia of the Citadel on the sentinel’s cloak. “We flies lost our Broodmother to that spider on the floor right there. That’s why we did catch ya. Flies gotta do what flies gotta do. And thanks to ye, lass, fly-kind will dwindle into nothingness if we don’t do squat!” He spat at Hornet, missing by a mile. 

And with that lovely interaction, the wardenfly left, dragging a still sentinel behind him in tow.

The door to the room then closed and the light stopped pouring in. They were now alone with one less friend to help plan their escape. 

Yay.

Lace moved over to check on the hunter, who’d already gotten up and was counting something on her fingers. “Spider, whatever are you doing? Counting the hours you’ve had to deal with me?”

“I tried doing that once. But I stopped keeping track once you invaded my bellhome,” Hornet replied, swiftly resuming her counting. “While you were proving an excellent aggravator towards the flies, I was checking how long our sentinel friend can stay awake.” She paused briefly to check. “Counting our first conversation, I can hazard the safe guess that it takes twenty minutes before the sentinel falls asleep per core reset.”

Lace was actually impressed for once and had no snide comment to make. She didn’t think that Hornet was that pragmatic so as to spend every waking moment working towards any goals she had. She then realised it must’ve been this same drive that kept the spider so dead-set in ascending Pharloom in the first place. Sheer force of will was nothing to scoff at. 

“If the sentinel isn’t returned to its cell here, we can also assume that the flies are actively experimenting with leftover Silk as we speak. They dragged the sentinel out just in case things go south.”

The silken fencer, child of the horrors that once was the heart of the Haunting, shuddered in repulsion. “Simply horrid,” she said, already imagining the scenes. “The Slab will become a snowier Whiteward if such experiments will persist.”

There was a brief silence before Hornet spoke up again. “The Whiteward, Lace. Have you ever been there yourself?”

“Hm, no. I’ve only gleaned information about it from hearsay tidbits around Bellheart and Songclave. I never had the guts to go inside by myself,” she admitted, legs akimbo as she sat on the bench. “Its reputation precedes its horrors. That much is known to me.”

Hornet nodded. No bug in their right mind would ever venture to a place. The Whiteward was a hellish piece of Pharloom’s history. It permanently ruined the innocent image of gleamflies for her. Souls of the dead, they were. They were spun, shrunk and caught within butterfly-shaped bodies, tantalisingly close to the sweet release of death. And yet, they were stuffed into numerous automations, some even being powered by a chorus of such souls. 

To work for the Citadel forever.

“And to think we would be subject to similar procedures,” she muttered. 

Lace attempted a chuckle, but it came out sounding more like a strangled choke. “You’re not scared of the flies, are you, spider? Here I thought your kind dealt with such bugs in a more fearsome way!”

Hornet shook her head, sighing. “Fear is arbitrary, child–”

“I am not a child!”

“–rather, I find that such emotions are unreliable at best,” the hunter continued, playing deaf to Lace’s complaints. “While the notion of a second Whiteward emerging from the Slab is worrying, I was simply… recalling past experiences with such matters.”

Hornet struggled to keep her tongue in check. She was dangerously close to opening up to Lace. Control was a defining trait of a good hunter, and one she endeavoured to exercise as much as possible. Especially around Lace.

She racked her brains for a tangent to cling on to, to draw interest away from her experiences in the Whiteward. “Remember the Abyss?”

The fencer whipped around with lightning speed. Ah, Hornet thought. A touchy subject, it seemed. But for different reasons to both of them.

“Is this about whatever you did to Mother down there? If it is, then you can spare me your sorrows, spider,” Lace huffed and turned away just as quickly as she looked. She crossed her arms. “As I said before. No platitudes coming from you. It’s gross and weird.” 

Hornet pushed the urge to slap Lace away. “No platitudes from me, yes. This is more about the Void-creature you should’ve seen help us escape the Abyss. Two white eyes, a pair of horns, dark tendrils. Not to mention a chorus of similar beings behind them.”

Lace nodded tentatively, a mite suspicious. Where was the spider going with this?

“That was my sibling. I’ve decided to nickname them ‘Ghost’  seeing that I–”

Lace swatted the rest of the sentence away like gleamflies. “Hold on. That creature is related to you??” Seeing Hornet’s dead-serious nod, Lace couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “And I thought my family tree was complicated…” She laughed hard enough to wheeze slightly. “Why tell me such things, spider? Surely you’re not the type to get sentimental in closed, cramped spaces?”

The hunter shrugged. “Perhaps it was my feeble attempt at shedding a more hopeful light onto our situation. I was drawing parallels to how Ghost rescued us when we shouldn’t have survived to how we’ll find our escape route.” Hornet eyed the ten padlocks. “Eventually.”

Lace hid her amusement behind a pouting face. “And here you are belittling my optimism whenever we do anything,” she sighed loudly. “I do have to commend you for your attempt at a rallying speech, spider dear. It’s filled me with a confidence I’ve never felt before,” Lace said with a straight face. 

Hornet wished her mask were more expressive so that her look of annoyance was more easily conveyed. The cons of wearing a mask from birth, she mused. Limited facial expressions. A glare would suffice for now. 

The clang of metal halted the heartfelt conversation.

A fly had dumped the Second Sentinel in its cell and walked out, not caring less if the sentinel was face-down on the floor. “H-hail, maidens,” it croaked from its horizontal posture. “This sen-sentinel has returned in one piece.”

Lace and Hornet rushed to the right wall of their cell, watching the gilded bug right itself and stand to salute the both of them. Hornet noted how its twin scissor blades were missing. Perhaps confiscated by the flies?

“You seem fine and dandy,” Lace observed. 

“Gilded one, are you alright?” Hornet asked while swatting Lace away from looking over her shoulder. Dark and dreary the Slab was, the hunter wasn’t that desperate for bodily warmth. At least, that she knew of. 

The sentinel spoke in a slightly grainier voice, as if it’d been jostled around without much thought. “This sentinel remains func-functional, though t-t-troubled by what it has experienced.” If it weren’t for its mechanical nature, it probably would have frowned deeply. “The flies of the Slab are ex-experimenting with Silk. Many have f-fallen to the Haunting, despite the absence of a m-m-monarch.”

The room stilled. 

Ooh, that’s not good.

Grandmother Silk was well and truly dead. Lace had sliced one of her arms off. Hornet had absorbed said arm, along with all the Silk the pale being had to soar out of the Abyss. Lace was slowly, but surely, unravelling bit by bit, every day. That was proof enough of the monarch's death.  

How could any bug still fall to the Haunting?

The silken fencer was the first to voice her thoughts. “Perhaps the Silk has a will of its own,” she mused, looking at the faint reflection of herself in the metal of the cage bars. “Mother simply had a stronger one. Now left to freely exercise its strength, it may serve as a sort of collective mind to the enthralled.”

Hornet hated how it made sense. “And yet they continue to stuff themselves full of it. To prolong their doomed end. Unless another Broodmother can be quickly raised between my first capture and now, this behaviour will persist until the whole Slab is Haunted.” She looked at Lace, who was trying to smooth out some frayed Silk along her arm. 

“We need to escape as soon as possible.”

The Second Sentinel nodded. It sounded like marbles clattering around in a tin can. “A p-path, this sentinel has found. Through the v-v-vents,” it said, pointing at the grate that decorated the top wall. “Not unlike the Citadel’s Ventrica. Interconnected, throughout the whole p-prison.” 

“What’s to say it isn’t trapped with enough runes to squash the spider?” Lace asked. 

Hornet wasn’t sure if it was out of genuine curiosity or just another jab at her glaring weakness. 

“We won’t know until we try,” she countered, already trying (and failing) to reach the vent grate by jumping. The absence of her downy cloak was painful. Such graceful movement it allowed, both to float and to jump in the air with feathered wings. 

Currently, Hornet looked rather pathetic. 

After Lace stopped laughing, the sentinel squatted low and put its hands together, boosting Hornet up as she stepped on its palms. She touched the vent grate gingerly, checking for any hidden runes. When none appeared, she slowly fiddled with the screws that held it shut, slowly lifting the heavy grate and shimmying her way inside.

“I’m in,” Hornet’s whisper echoed through the metal tunnel. “Sentinel, please help Lace up here as well.”

“Wha– spider! Are you insulting my stature?” Lace scoffed as she hopped into the vent in the same manner as the hunter did. “And you expect me to crawl through that dusty crevice like some worm? Ew!”

“Hush, child,” Hornet shot back from somewhere deep within the ventilation system. Wyrm above, how did she manage to move that quickly? “Loud banter will only get us discovered.”

“C-correct,” the sentinel added, clambering into the vents and closing the hatch behind itself. It seemed quite content to manoeuvre around the vents, despite being somewhat taller than both Lace and Hornet. “To continue its d-d-duty, this sentinel must leave this chamber. Cooperation is im-imperative.”

Lace muttered something unintelligible under her breath as the trio navigated the ventilation system of the Slab.

Chapter Text

Lo and behold, the vents actually led them right outside.

The trio had successfully crawled past the more crowded rooms and exited into a storage unit, whose round window was easily kicked open, alongside the lone guard who was slacking on their job. The sentinel had made quick work of them, hurling them against the window and taking it clean off.

Lace was horrified.

Hornet was impressed.

“I’m glad to not have underestimated your strength, gilded one,” Hornet murmured as they all climbed outside. The sentinel simply nodded, their feathery protrusions fluttering in the wind. They almost looked like they were smiling mischievously. 

The cold winds of Mount Fay swirled around the group. Its winds howled a sad song, of a place long forgotten by the Citadel. The snow was unrelenting, settling on Lace’s and Hornet’s heads. The sentinel’s mechanical nature granted them a warmer exterior, on which snow simply melted off before it could cover them.

“And to think I’ve never been here…” Lace looked around, rubbing her sore arms. Crawling through the vents was uncomfortable, but she was within range of Hornet’s feet, and so didn’t dare complain loudly after the first kick. “Such wild beauty left only for the sinful! Isn’t it simply breathta– spider!”

Hornet had doubled over, wincing. She was shivering so much that the snow on her horns were being shaken off. “It’s nothing Lace.” It would be one of the many obvious lies she’d tell throughout their escapade.

Lace called her bluff and rushed over to check on her. The sentinel, unsure of what to do, simply stood guard with their scissor-blades at the ready. 

“Spider, if you keep this up, only two of us will ever escape.”

“Lace, I’m fine. Don’t touch me.”

The last bit came out a bit harsher than usual, even drawing the sentinel’s gaze. The silken being shrunk away, hands still outstretched. It was very un-Hornet-like of her to raise her voice, unless truly angered or rattled. She guessed it might’ve been a combination of the two.

Hornet slipped back into the prison via the window, making a beeline for the nearby lantern. Lace followed suit, leaving the sentinel outside. They didn’t seem to mind. If anything, they seemed quite intrigued by the snowfall that painted their blades a soft white.

“Spider. Hornet. I’m sorry about startling you, but you cannot convince me that you were alright out there. I’m pretty sure you normal bugs aren’t supposed to have ice crystals forming over your mask.” Lace sulked, pacing the length of the room. “You told us that you needed your cloak to brave such temperatures. A little hypocritical of you to throw yourself out there, hm?”

The hypocrite in question was rubbing her hands together furiously, brow knitted in frustration. Surely they had more pressing matters than a simple cloak of feathers?

“I appreciate the kindness, fencer. But remember that the Slab still has external workers. They install heating lamps throughout the mountain and along the exterior shell of the building,” she shot back with no malice in her words. She did admit, it was amusing to see Lace so flustered over her. Then again, Hornet remembered how quickly the cold could claim lives, and how this was no laughing matter.

“The only danger I was in was that of not moving quickly. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Hornet stood up, sufficiently warmed. “Let us continue onwards.”

Lace nearly slapped the spider again right then and there. How incredibly foolish of this hunter! To face unyielding nature armed with naught but anything was a death sentence! They also hadn’t recovered any form of weapons or gear, and the sentinel’s core was still damaged. They would last exactly half an hour outside before someone died, or the sentinel fell asleep.

Or both. It was highly probable.

Lace did her best to quell her annoyance. “Eager as I am to leave, spider dear, may I remind you that we have two blades between the three of us; one bug carries them both. You also can’t perform any of your weird Weaver skill-things. I much prefer my pin in hand if we must freeze to death.” She stared at Hornet’s cloakless form. “I propose we retrieve our gear first.”

Surprisingly, Lace had a point.

Pragmatic as she was, Hornet often found herself tunnel-visioned on certain objectives. She rarely deviated from set goals unless incapacitated, or something else was more pressing at the moment. She would never charge into battle unarmed… but a mountain climb? A prison break? She’d just throw herself into the midst of things and expertly weave her way out of danger, like she always did. It always worked out in the end somehow. 

That was the reason Hornet had a bad habit of running into walls. She simply didn’t think such things through. Too much to think about as opposed to going straight at it. A path either worked or didn’t. No in-betweens. She could always try again.

But right now, they were working as a group. It wasn’t a solo escape attempt. While her stubbornness had been an asset during her journey, groups had many members to contribute and needed to be considered when decisions must be made. And Hornet was currently making very bad decisions.

“Hm… I suppose we should,” Hornet muttered, one hand under her chin. “Could you call the sentinel back indoors? We’ll form a better plan here.”

“Finally.” Lace popped her head out the window and yelled against the roaring winds. “Yoo hoo! Golden bug! Hornet wants you to come inside!”

The Second Sentinel snapped to attention, wriggling their way back indoors through the window they’d busted open. “R-reporting for duty,” they said whilst further destroying the wall. Any more force and the wall would come clean off. 

“Lace wants us to retrieve our weapons and my cloak first,” Hornet explained with a tinge of annoyance. She wasn’t used to having companions that could interfere with her plans. “We should plan a route of least resistance through the prison, but one that still allows for an effective search.” 

Lace had taken a seat on the dusty floor, legs criss-crossed and was rocking back and forth idly. The hunter shot her a withering glare. Lace thankfully got the message quickly and chimed in an idea for their next move. “We could… take the vents again?” 

The sentinel shook their head, blades crossed over their chest apologetically. “Un-unadvisable. This sentinel t-thinks that our first usage of the v-v-vents had been loud enough. It is unwise to r-reuse a strategy in b-battle so quickly.”

“Agreed,” said Hornet, who had positioned herself behind the only door leading out of the room, likely to check for any approaching guards. “I believe our clamouring within the pipes would have raised several eyebrows by now, if not more." She was starting to regret having gone back indoors.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rain on your parade, spider. By all means, throw yourself outside!” The silken fencer countered. She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. Seriously, escaping through Mount Fay was a death sentence! Anyone with a brain could see that! And clearly, Hornet was only saying what she said to disagree with her genius plan.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know that.”

“Really now, spider, we both know that you just want to be in charge–”

“I know my way around Pharloom better than you do, child.”

“Ahaha! Bold claims! You just don’t want to admit I’m right for once!”

The argument grew louder and louder with worrying speed. The sentinel couldn’t do much about it. The Architects didn’t teach them how to deescalate conflicts, and they were well aware of Hornet’s prowess in battle. Additionally, their core was failing them, fast. It was so very difficult to stay awake… just… one blink…

Just as Lace was about to yell louder, the hunter clamped her hand over the fencer’s mouth. The sudden close proximity made Lace’s heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Spider–? What arnnmgh!” 

The ever-present whirr of machinery from the sentinel had died down, their eyes now hollow circles. They’d fallen asleep again. From outside the door, the duo could hear the faint chatter of guards, steadily growing as they approached their room.

Hornet slowly removed her hand from Lace’s mouth, rapidly assessing the situation on hand. The ventilation grate was still hanging wide open, providing a potential escape route. The window was also still open, the cold winds nipping at her chitin. 

The guards drew closer, their shadows visible on the wall opposite the door.

“Spi– Hornet… what do we do?” Lace whispered, backing away to the far end of the room. The Second Sentinel stood stock still in the centre. They were far too heavy for the silken being to push around. They had to be left behind, for the time being. A heavy loss for their group.

“What do we… Hornet? Hornet, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hunter was nowhere to be seen. The only trace of the Weaver was the fading crunch of footsteps in snow. She had no doubt jumped out the window, and was making a beeline for Mount Fay. 

Hornet had left. 

She left Lace.

She abandoned her.

The guards swarmed the room; it was a group made of several guardflies and a warden who carried a rune-cage. Several of them shouted in surprise when they saw the sleeping sentinel. Two flies dragged them out by the feathers on their helmet. After performing another sweep of the room, the group left, unable to find traces of neither Lace nor Hornet.

Inside a storage closet, the silken being was trying not to hyperventilate. She had both her hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. The trio had been dismantled as quickly as it formed.

Hornet had just… abandoned her.

Why?