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Songclave was lit up in Hornet’s honor. Though the decorations were modest, considering the poor plight of the Pilgrims, everybody had brought what they could. Signs hung on the walls, a statue dedicated to the Red Maiden had been erected, and jubilant songs of celebration sprung up everywhere. From somewhere above, music played. Periodic smoke bombs and chaotic sparkling bursts erupted as if from the air, doubtless provided by Trobbio. Other friendly faces sat at ease all around, most of whom were indebted to Hornet in some way. Flick was using what little materials he still had to craft a miniature monument, while Sherma led his followers in a joyous song celebrating their newfound lives. The Second Sentinel watched them from a light distance, not entirely understanding the purpose of such a display but grateful for the new safety of their time. The only insect here not happy…
...was Hornet. Who sat in the center of it all on her bench, scowling and plucking her Needolin to pass the time. When Sherma passed her by, she tapped his shoulder and bid him to take a spot next to her.
Sherma took a seat and rested his chimes by his sides. “Red Maiden, why do you look so glum?”
“I do not see the point of all this,” Hornet said. “It is such a waste of your limited supplies, and I hardly deserve such praise.”
“Of course you deserve this, and worry not about the supplies. Flick planned this down to the shell shard!”
“Fine, I’ll acquiesce on the latter, but my former objection still stands. What celebration do I deserve? I was the one who brought ruin to your Kingdom.”
“What do you mean? It’s precisely the opposite! You liberated us from the Citadel and beat back the apocalypse itself!”
Hornet let out a long and aggrieved sigh. Here was the part nobody wanted to listen to her about. “Yes, I did rescue Pharloom – after I released the Void and brought death to many of your fellows. All I did was clean up my own mess.”
Sherma shook his head. “Well, that’s not what I heard in your account. You couldn’t have known the Snails were going to use the Void.”
“Yes, I could,” Hornet said. “That’s what nobody wants to understand. If I had done my due diligence, had asked more questions, and not believed so easy an explanation, none of the ensuing chaos would have happened.”
“Poshanka, what nonsense.”
The two of them on the bench turned to find Shakra standing tall and proud behind them, almost glaring at Hornet with disapproval. “Hornet Wielding Needle, do not act as the Child I found you as. If you deserve any blame, then it is but a small fraction. Those fools who hid the entirety of their plans in spite of the risks deserve the primary share.”
“Everybody I talk to keeps saying that,” Hornet said.
“Because it is the truth! Moreover, why do you not blame the cursed Mother for driving everything to such a precipice? Certainly she and her daughter are more at fault than yourself!”
At the mention of Silk’s daughter, Hornet’s body grew tense and taut, like a bow preparing to fire. “Lace is not responsible for the insanity of her Mother.”
“Then you aren’t responsible for it either,” Sherma said. “What matters isn’t that you had a small part in causing the mess, but rather that you defied the Gods themselves to make it right. You managed to save all Pharloom, Red Maiden, and you even managed to rescue the White Knight as well! That is what will live on.”
“Though I don’t know why you rescued Child Wielding Pin,” Shakra said with a scoff. “The stories I’ve heard of her petulance from the other Pilgrims make her out to be a foe worthy only of scorn.”
Again, Hornet grew tense, and this time needed to bite her tongue. “There is more to her than you know, Shakra. If you had endured the existence which led her to act in such a way, I am certain you’d of gone down the same path.”
“A ridiculous notion. My Master would have stopped such a progression.”
“Yes, but what if you never had your Master? Or worse, what if your Master had taken you down the incorrect course?”
“Please, please, there’s no need to fight,” Sherma said, standing up on the bench and inserting himself between the two of them. “I’m certain the White Knight is a wonderful friend. And if she’s done something wrong in her past? Then we need to forgive her as long as she wishes to improve. I’ve talked to nearly everyone at this gathering, and of their number I have yet to find someone without a grievous sin on their shoulders. Judging bugs entirely on their mistakes and doubts… I fear doing that would take us right back to the failings of the Citadel.”
Shakra shrugged. “If she’s changed, then she can show herself and prove the fact.”
“All I ask is that we trust our Red Maiden and her intuition,” Sherma said, nodding at his friend. “Now, Maiden, I must ask, isn’t there somebody you promised to locate if they didn’t come to our gathering?”
“You are correct, Pilgrim,” Hornet said, rising from the bench. “I will return with them shortly, and Shakra?” Hornet said, turning to face the mapmaker. “Lace is not what you think. Of that you have my solemn vow.”
“I only hope you are correct, Hornet Wielding Needle,” Shakra said. “This place has seen enough bloodshed, and I will let nothing renew the violence.”
Hornet nodded, and dashed off. She knew exactly where Lace was hiding out; she’d seen her hide away near the Ventrica station. It was out of the way and Hornet was one of the very few bugs in the entire Kingdom who trusted the thing enough to ride it. Yet, it was also close enough that Lace would be able to keep an eye on the proceedings and watch Hornet from afar. Sure enough, the moment she mounted the final platform leading to the tube, Hornet saw Lace lounging against a wall, balancing her pin on a hand. Her face looked low and inwardly tormented, though it immediately lightened when Hornet came into her line of sight.
“There you are, Hornet! I was beginning to fear that you’d left me here to collect dust and rot!” Lace let her legs drop and she slid slowly to the floor. “What an awful experience, being left up here for entire years with nobody but the dust to see or know.”
“It’s been two hours,” Hornet said. “Now, come with me to the celebration. I cannot handle so much cheer and sentimentality on my own.”
“I’m afraid I simply can’t. I’ve lost control of my legs, as you can see, and am now surely unable to make it down the platforms. You must go on without me!”
“I can carry you.”
“...And besides. I do not wish to go.”
“Neither do I,” Hornet said. “Yet it would be rude to turn down such an invitation, especially considering the work everybody has put into it.”
Lace looked at Hornet sharply, and cocked her head. In the distance, the sounds of revelry could he heard. “Wait, why do you not want to go? You never told me that. Isn’t this whole celebration in your honor?”
“It is, and that’s why I dislike it. I unleashed the Void on the Kingdom, and so deserve no praise. I didn’t wish to burden you with such knowledge, and truthfully, I was hoping until the last possible moment that this would all fall through.”
Lace pouted. “What do you mean that you released the Void? That was my achievement! Why are you taking the glory?”
“You did not know Mother Silk would go so far to protect you or what the consequences of that would be when you saved me.”
“You’re correct, I didn’t. I did welcome her misery though.” Lace sighed. “I was willing to let the Kingdom be ripped apart over my hatred towards my Mother. How many died over my ‘small rebellion,’ as you put it?”
“All of those bugs only passed due to my failure to see through what the Shamans were planning,” Hornet replied. “Your resistance purchased me time to find a better outcome to our story.”
“At what cost, though? Besides, the point is that I deserve the guilt for the whole stupid affair. You need not blame yourself.”
Hornet was about to accost Lace for taking all the blame for such a complicated situation, and then had to stop herself because the irony smacked her like a two-mask-damage projectile. The Little Pilgrim had been right, after all. The time had come to try and swallow her failures, and perhaps help Lace to do the same.
“We could debate this forever,” Hornet said, “and spend our lives re-litigating the past. Either that, or we could make do with the future I secured us when we ascended from the Abyss. Is that why you are frightened of the crowd below – you fear they will judge you for your past actions?”
“It’s not a fear, spider. I know for a fact your Sentinel friend only doesn’t attempt to cut me down on sight because you directed them not to. Who knows which other bugs down there see me as nothing more than the failure I am? Better to rest here and let it all pass than face down more heartache. I have no answer to their stares.”
Hornet came over and squatted next to Lace. “The answer is to live a good life, Lace. I know you for who you are. They don’t. I know it is hard to believe, but the bugs of this Kingdom are good. They forgive me my trespasses, and once they come to understand you, they will forgive you yours. Please. Trust me. Trust them.”
She stood and extended a hand towards Lace.
And there was the feeling Lace didn’t understand again. No matter how many times Hornet tried to explain it to her, she didn’t get it. Why was she being so kind to one as wretched as her? Did her sins not repulse her? Did they not repulse the whole wide world? The more perplexing thing than that though was the other half of the feeling, which is that Lace wanted to believe her and even could. Whenever Hornet took her like this, whenever she swatted away her petty excuses and self-hatreds and saw her plain, Lace felt like it might be possible. To toss away her sins, her loathing, and begin again. She could not be worthy of such love, yet if Hornet was giving it to her, then she must be deserving of it.
When Lace took her hand, it was as if all mistakes and all transgressions had for a moment vanished. They never remained gone long, but as they walked down the platforms together, Lace wondered if one day they may be banished longer, losing dominance and power until they could only nip at her mind instead of nesting in it.
Hornet took point, taking Lace by the hand and guiding her into the throng of guests. Various faces looked their way and Lace turned her head away in shame, sure that all of them were going to hate her. Every murmur and every whisper regardless of content was as a condemnation of her wretched status. She huddled closer to Hornet, and tried to focus on the bench which was their evident goal. When Lace reached it, she nearly threw herself on the metal, resting and releasing a long breath. She turned to her right assuming Hornet would be there, but instead found herself starting right into the bright and innocent face of Sherma.
“My White Knight! I am so glad you made it!” Sherma said, not noticing the way Lace leapt a little in shock. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come to our celebration!”
Lace never knew what to make of Sherma’s friendliness. He always seemed much too nice for this world, and especially for the brutal Kingdom of Pharloom. Yet, if his kindness was a facade, she’d never see it waver – and she knew how difficult maintaining a mask like that could be. Hornet’s words about trusting the others echoed in her mind, and Lace swallowed her reservations.
“Greetings, Little Pilgrim,” she said, reaching over to pat him on his robed head and forcing all the excitement she could. “How exciting to see you again!”
“I’m grateful to see you in high spirits. When I last laid my eyes on you, you’d just been rescued by the Red Maiden and looked troubled. If you’re still plagued by doubts, then you can lay them to rest here. The other Pilgrims know you are of no harm to anyone.”
“Not anymore,” Lace thought but did not say. She also did not call Sherma on what she knew was a lie. Looking around, Lace could tell that certain Pilgrims were avoiding her gaze and making wide paths around the bench. She’d slain many a bug while following the commands of her Mother. It was foolish to think nobody would remember or hold a grudge.
Really, why was she here? These bugs would never accept her. Sherma would, but he accepted everyone. Even Trobbio. Hornet had coaxed her out, but it was increasingly clear just from the glares around her that she’d been wrong. There would be no peace for a bug like her. Nobody would be able to look upon her ugliness without growing fearful or hateful. She would bring out the worst of everybody who came into her acquaintance. Doubtless even Hornet’s love for her would wither with time. Her countenance and spirit would grow dark from putting up with Lace’s flaws day in and day out, that sympathy draining from her as the juice from a Mossberry until nothing but the shriveled and tired skin was left. Then Lace would be tossed away. That much was obvious. How could she ever believe things could be different?
A comforting hand rested on her shoulder at the same time Sherma took Lace’s hand.
“Lace,” Hornet said, catching a glimpse of Second Sentinel out of the corner of her eye, “you’ve gone still. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, the Red Maiden is right,” Sherma said. “You look tormented by something. Is it anything I can assist with, White Knight? I’ve helped many Pilgrims through their emotional tribulations, and to my recollection you’ve faced more than most.”
“You two are being absurd,” Lace said, trying to laugh the spiral off. “Is a construct not allowed her moments of respite? If so, then you may as well strike me down here and now!”
Neither Hornet of Sherma could say anything in response before a flash erupted before the three of them, and the Second Sentinel emerged, swords locked on their hips.
“I detected t-t-t-tones of distress. Is this o-one causing you trouble, H-H-Hornet?”
“No, you may stand down,” Hornet said, hoping that the Sentinel’s conscience had grown to overpower their programming. “Lace is of no threat to anybody.”
“I- I- I cannot be sure of that,” they responded. “Yet I do not w-wish a repeat of our f-f-final audience. Could the w-white one explain if s-she is a friend or foe?”
Lace looked around, her fears about this night materializing right before her eyes. Pilgrims were gathering around, all of them watching her to see how she’d react. Most kept their distance, as if expecting Lace to give into her hunting instincts like the monster she was. How was she supposed to explain anything of her life to anybody? Nobody would care for her words, her excuses. She may as well spring up from the bench now, run to the Ventrica, and beat a hasty retreat.
Hornet squeezed her shoulder again, and whispered in her ear. “There is no need to be afraid. I’ve seen the Sentinel’s pose when they’re preparing to fight, and it’s not the one they currently hold. I’m certain that if you speak the truth, this will not escalate.”
“Oh, that’s so easy!” Lace mocked, louder than she should have.
Sherma rubbed her hand. “I do not know the full extent of what you’ve endured. Yet I also know that there is not a Pilgrim walking here who has not borne their share of misery and sins. Speak from your heart, and I’m sure everyone will see you’ve changed!”
“You? You have sins?” Lace asked.
“Of course, I have one! It’s something so shameful I’ve never told a soul!”
“...Can I know about it?”
“If you’re able to talk to my golden friend there!” Sherma said with a smile.
Lace considered this, and felt very silly that such a small thing would tempt her into such openness. She looked left, and saw Hornet’s kind and encouraging face. She looked right, and saw Sherma beaming at her as if she were a newborn hatchling free of sin. Lace swallowed, and decided to take her shot.
“White one, y-y-your response?” Second Sentinel cocked their head almost regretfully, as they felt as they might need to do something they did not want to do.
“Oh shush,” Lace said, waving a hand. “You don’t need to grow so tense. I only did not know where to begin.”
“What d-d-do you have to espouse?”
Lace took a deep breath, and began.
“It is true I’ve been awful. I know I have personally wronged many of those present. I was, like yourself, a defender of this Kingdom, though my interests were not the same as your own. My creator, Grand Mother Silk, created me to enforce her will. To appease her, to try and earn her love, I did many terrible things at her behest. I won’t hide from them. I killed, I stole, I indulged in cruelties abhorrent to all. If you had met me in that time, you would have been correct in seeing me as a foe. I am certain from your reaction to my presence that you have heard some of the stories.”
“I h-have,” Second Sentinel said with a nod. “It is w-w-why I am u-unsure of your presence here.”
“If my story had ended there, your skepticism would be entirely justified. My true story though, began only after I met a certain somebody,” Lace said, leaning her head on Hornet’s horns. “Hornet here, she showed me a different way. She showed me that the world is not all of misery. That the world is not ugly, and the bugs in it are not always sad. She never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself, and sank into the Abyss, hoping to rot there until that darkness swallowed me alive. Ever since she saved me, well…”
Silence stretched.
“W-W-What do you wish to say?”
“I’ve been trying to accept her lessons, as well as the beliefs of this Pilgrim here,” Lace said, patting Sherma’s head once more. “I’ve been attempting to change. I do not wish to hate myself. Or others. I want to put down the pin, and only raise it in defense of those who cannot defend themselves. I have been trying to see my life as having value, and my existence as being more than my Mother’s decrees.”
“…”
“It’s been tremendously difficult, I will not deceive you. Earlier tonight, I was upon the verge of quitting this gathering altogether, and sulking somewhere dark and decrepit… but it’s become easier. I do not wish to say it, though I don’t know why, but it has become easier. I want to be a protector to these Pilgrims, and to all those out there in the wastes who are like my former self: alone, desperate, and scared. I’ve been changing. I understand if these words don’t absolve me in your eyes. I was terrible beyond words, even to those I now cherish. All I can say is I apologize from my silken heart. I wish to be better than who I was. I will become better than who I was.”
The Second Sentinel stood stock still, measuring each word and Lace’s body, whose posture now rose as if relieved of some burden. After coming to a conclusion, they nodded.
“I- I- I see. I do not b-believe you are a threat.”
“You don’t?”
“E-Enjoy the party, L-Lace.”
They sprung off, leaping to the other end of the party where one bug was foolishly trying to shake down another.
“You did it!” Sherma said, shaking Lace’s side excitedly. “I knew you’d be able to say it!”
Hornet patted her on the shoulder. “I do not say this often, but I am proud of you.”
Lace cast her gaze outwards, expecting to find skeptical and hateful glares everywhere, but only found a couple poking out from the back of the crowd. Everybody else had gone back to their business, drinking and playing games and dancing. When eyes fell on Lace now, they seemed to carry an expression of sympathy, instead of disgust. Though, now that she was through the storm, Lace had to wonder what number of those stares were fabricated by her frightened mind trying to see things which weren’t there to comfort or antagonize herself. Her head always got like this when emotions ran high. It usually wasn’t until after the fact that she was able to ascertain the truth and full extent and dimensions of a peril.
She giggled in relief. “There was nothing to be worried about! Now, Little Pilgrim, I believe you were going to tell me about that sin you mentioned…?”
“Yes, I suppose there’s no escaping my confession,” Sherma sighed. “Fine, but you mustn’t tell the others! Such a horrible sin would surely taint their visage of me forever!”
“Neither of us will say a word,” Hornet nodded.
“I promise Hornet won’t,” Lace said.
Sherma twiddled with him chimes nervously, then shoved them aside and leaned in conspiratorially, pulling his friends heads close. “Once, when I was visiting Fleatopia with the other Pilgrims… I stole a glass of Flea Brew!”
“…”
“…”
“Your silences confirm the severity of my sin! I must never let it burden another.”
“I did not know it was possible for a bug this pure to exist,” Lace mumbled.
“Poshanka, am I interrupting something?”
The three of them broke apart at once and tried to assume casual resting positions on the bench as Shakra looked over them with an eye raised. “Hornet with Needle, I see you were discussing something with both the innocent one and the short and wide one. I trust you would share if it involved the safety of our fellows?”
Hornet shook her head. “Shakra, if I told you, you would not believe me. It was something of a personal matter. I shall leave it at that.”
“Fine. If misfortune falls on our head due to your secrecy though, I shall revert your title to Child Wielding Needle. Now,” she said, clanging her rings together, “Child Wielding Pin. I must address you personally.”
“...Me?”
“Yes. I was discussing you with Hornet Wielding Needle earlier tonight. I told her I saw you as a threat and did not trust your intentions.”
“…”
“I wished to tell you that I was incorrect in that assumption. I see that Hornet Wielding Needle was correct – there is more to you than I was first able to see. My Master told me you should only believe a bug has turned from the path of dark if they have proved it, and your words open the possibility to my eyes that you could. Stay the truth path, and we shall have no quarrel.”
“...Thank you, Shakra. I shall do my best.”
“I would expect no less! Now, it seems that our metallic ally has gotten into a scuffle – I shall go and assist.”
It was true. A couple of geniuses had tried to pick a fight with the Second Sentinel and were currently tasting the cold iron of their fists. Hornet would say that they were lucky they weren’t using their swords this night, but with Shakra joining the fray the troublemakers looked set for a very rough time.
“Say, Sherma.”
“Yes, Red Maiden?”
“Can you ensure Shakra doesn’t accidentally kill the poor fools?”
Sherma gasped. “She’d never do such a thing!”
“Look at the strength of her arms and legs.”
“...Red Maiden, you have a point.” Sherma hopped up posthaste and started running over, shouting for peace while banging his chimes.
And so the two lovers were left alone. They didn’t say anything, basking in the ambiance and energy of the moment. Almost everybody was, for the first time in the Gods only knew how long, finally happy. It was the sort of night you only experience a few times in your life, when life feels finally open and free, and all the shadows of the past and your own mind are, for the moment, vanquished. A night of genuine and real Peace, in the most fundamentally true and earnest description of that word.
The two nuzzled, and cuddled, growing closer. There were plenty of bugs around who might judge them or might not for their sentimentality and vulnerability, but neither cared. Hornet and Lace turned towards one another, and leaned in close. Their faces came mere inches away from one another, prepared to share a kiss that they’d before only ever shared in the privacy of their Bellhome. Their mouths came to meet one another.
“TROOOOBBIO!”
An explosion went off right in front of the bench, bringing with it a smokescreen out of which the aforementioned performer emerged, landing in front of the lovers with a devoted bow.
“Bravo! Bravo! What a splendid performance! Ah, how you bring the light back to the forlorn heart of this broken performer!”
“We are in the middle of something,” Hornet said.
“I see that, but my artistic heart could not bear to let such beauty go unremarked upon. My heart, it cannot take such a display – it is overflowing! Ah, cor meum erumpit!”
“...What even are those words?” Lace asked.
“I simply must see more! Please, continue with your presentation. It shall engage my soul for many moons! I-”
Hornet got up and grasped Trobbio by the fluff of his neck. She turned and flung him as hard as she possibly could towards the melee which was ensuing on the other side of Songclave. Trobbio shouted his own name as he flew, and the last Hornet saw of him before he was subsumed by the fight was his descending face catching a blow from Shakra meant for one of the troublemakers.
The second he was gone, Hornet leaned down and kissed Lace right on the mouth. The two lived a lifetime in that moment, and in the years which followed, whenever times were hard and there seemed no light left in the world, they drew on it as a salve against sickness. It could be carried forever and worn as a badge of protection: the moment where it became not only possible but doable to swallow shame.