Chapter Text
The stone floor was cold. Its body was colder. As it had been from birth. As it should have stayed.
No- if the light within was gone, this had to be another dream. It had to wake up, it had to…
But the pain was real. Cracks in its shell, Void leaking onto the floor, limbs weak, shaking and in pain. Real pain. In dreams, pain was always muted.
It rose to its knees with great effort. A bright shape stood next to it.
Father?
No. No, this was its nail, nothing else. White, sharp, but thin, tall. Nail.
He was gone.
It saw, during a moment of clarity. At that point, they had been rare enough, but it saw, it saw his light fading and disappearing. It had little more will to break then, yet She used the grief to its fullest potential.
She told it Her name, made sure it was burned into its very core, and forbade it from using any other, made it unable to use any other. She made it Her last worshipper, Her last temple, demanding prayer, demanding Her name be honoured.
Now that it could, it refused to call Her that, it refused to even utter the word in its head. She held dominion over it for far too long already.
She offered relief. She offered oblivion. It became harder to fight, to resist, to wake up. In the end, it didn’t just break, it melted into Her light…
No.
It couldn't keep thinking about Her. It was not supposed to think at all, but thoughts about Her were even worse.
But if this was not dream, how could She be gone? Had She escaped somehow?
Had it failed, again?
It reached for the nail with its right hand, not examining the other one, where the pain was the most intense. It didn’t matter, didn’t matter at all.
The hilt was cold, dusty, unused since the sealing. It overcame the pain and got up, supported by the weapon.
For a while it just stood there like some grotesque three-legged table, trying to quiet the agony of its body.
What a disgrace.
The last order it got was to contain the R-
To contain Her. It failed, but it could still attempt to obey.
It did not want to.
Wanting was not allowed.
But it did not want to.
She offered relief, yes, but it was wrong, all wrong. Even in Her perfect dreams, it was somewhat aware of that. It struggled, and every time it managed to wake up, She became more enraged. The more of Her rage it endured, the more alluring were the imaginary realities She offered.
But She could never build a perfect world for it. One early, dark memory, it managed to hide from Her eyes. One regret.
It did not want to go back to that struggle.
It did not matter what it wanted, even if it did, shamefully, want.
It shuffled forwards step by step, supporting itself on the gleaming nail, the greatest ever forged in Hallownest. Whether it served its purpose as a weapon or a cane, it could still be useful.
Yes. It could still be useful.
***
Hornet felt the world shift.
The Old Light was there, everpresent, a constant pressure as if the kingdom was submerged deep underwater. She had been constantly aware of it, as safe as she felt in her own fortified mind.
Then suddenly, it was gone.
It was like a thread of silk, drawn and strained way too tight for way too long, suddenly snapped.
No - like it was cut.
The sickly vines of Infection around the room rapidly lost their colour. Seals of the Dreamers did not shatter, but rather dissolved along with the door itself.
She was not aware of any such failsafe, but if the original plan of starving the Old Light to death succeeded, it would make sense not to prolong the stasis longer than necessary with the danger neutralised.
She wondered if this was consulted with the King, or if someone working on the seals kept it to themself.
Her mind was racing, but she didn’t have time to deliberate. Something big lurched out from inside the temple - a familiar shape.
She prepared to fight.
It did not attack. Simply stood there, perched up by its weapon, staring at her while slowly bleeding darkness onto the stones.
Of course. With the seals gone, it was free as well.
Perhaps slaying it would be a mercy. But weak as it was, its honed skills would not be forgotten. She saw it train at the Palace, she saw what it was capable of.
She gripped her needle tighter. This was not what she prepared for.
It still showed no intent to fight.
If it wasn’t going to become a threat to her, she would not make it her enemy. She would not risk her life to attempt a mercy killing.
She was also strangely glad for it to be alive.
Hornet stood down. “Hollow Knight.”
It tried to stand taller, but didn’t manage, only tilting its head up to show that it heard.
“I do not know how, but the Old Light has been eradicated. Your duty is over.”
It tried not to react, but in its posture she read relief, and moments later, a rising tension. Perhaps it was not easy to let go of a given purpose, especially one so intrinsically tied to one’s identity.
“What will you do now, I wonder? Staying here, you are sure to succumb to your injuries.”
It seemed unbothered by her words. Would it seek out help on its own? Rather unlikely.
Her sibling would not survive if she left it here.
At the same time, another thought entered her mind. If the Dreamer seals were not broken, but the Hollow Knight was free and alive…
Perhaps the Dreamers could be as well.
She swallowed. What a strange feeling. A mother she already said goodbye to and mourned could have just woken up as if nothing happened. After all this time. All she had to do to find out, was hurry over to Deepnest, leaving her sibling to fend for itself.
One family member alive for certain, but possibly not for long, or one possibly alive, for an unknown amount of time. The choice was not as easy as she expected it to be.
She turned around to the egress from the Temple. “Hollow Knight. I can lead you to a safe place where you can heal your wounds. Follow me, if you wish.” She sprinted off, but stopped right outside the door, waiting for the injured vessel.
Anxiously, she listened for the shuffle and clink-clink of the great weapon on rock. She smiled when she heard it approaching.
Perhaps it wanted to live. She was glad, if that was truly so.
***
This had to be a dream. She was just mysteriously gone, its duty was over, and the Gendered Child was alive, offering to help it? It could not be reality. Reality was never that kind.
It was attempting to ground itself with the pain. Pain was real.
Its body was in ruin, weak and shredded, limited vision in one eye, its left arm in excruciating pain, possibly paralysed.
Father was still gone.
It still failed its purpose.
Unless She learned to be more insidious and cunning than usual, this was not a dream. Pain was real.
It was grateful for how patient the Gendered Child was with it, stopping every time it needed to catch up with her.
The Crossroads were quiet - it only saw the place once before at its sealing, and so it wasn’t sure if the quiet was the norm, or if it was a crowded place once, and now…
It stopped.
A body laid on the path, mangled by the Infection. The Gendered Child paid it no mind, but the vessel lingered over it for a while.
It had seen a dead body before. It had seen an infected dead body before.
It had somehow forgotten. She would not show it the carnage She was causing in the waking world; the little death featured in dreams crafted by Her was clean, dignified. Just.
This was anything but.
It stared at the empty cysts, hollowed out eyes, disfigured limbs. It took in the scale of its failure.
Pain was real.
Pain was too much.
Why did it survive? Perhaps it would be better if…
“Leave it be. There is nothing to be done for them now.” Her voice was direct, commanding, but didn’t sound like a reprimand. The Gendered Child was simply stating a fact and a best course of action.
It should not hope, but it hoped she was real, at the very least.
She was right. If it was to be of use, it could not linger over every tragedy left in the plague’s wake.
It limped on behind her, and did not look at the bodies again until one of them coughed and started grasping at its leg.
***
Sly was a pragmatic bug.
When Elderbug hobbled into his shop, shouting about some strange people in the old well, he sighed, grabbed his Nail, and went to check on the commotion. It was probably just some of the infected folk from below trying to bother the town again.
Almost everyone in town - Elderbug, Cornifer the mapmaker and his tall wife Iselda, and the two foreign warriors whose names he neglected to learn - were all gathered around the well. The only ones missing were that young beetle girl who ran off again, and the bug who still prattled to seemingly no-one, ignorant of the commotion.
Sly made his way through the little crowd, using his height as an advantage, and took a peek himself.
Well, that was a surprise. A well surprise. Heh.
He pointed to the person in the well, the cause of all this hubbub. “You there! I know you.”
She snapped her head up in attention. “Nailmaster. I was hoping you would still reside here.” She looked back at something further along the tunnel. “There is a bug here who survived, and I can bring this one to the healing springs, but there may be more around the caverns, and I won’t be able to assist them all. Additionally, right now my movement is considerably slower than usual. I urge you to gather all capable bugs and rescue anyone in need.”
The thick warrior bug and the mapmaker pair all eagerly volunteered, but Sly’s Nail stopped them before they could jump in.
Look at her, speaking like she can tell them what to do. Just because she’s a princess or something of sorts.
“Wait a moment, miss. What reason do we have to trust you? You’ve barely spoken to any of us, all this time darting around the kingdom without a care. Who are you to order us around, hmm?”
“I am Hornet, and that was a request, not an order. If you wish to ignore the suffering of others, that is your decision to make.”
What a peculiar name. “Hah! Alright, Miss Hornet, try to guilt us all you like, but you’ve not told us something more important: what’s in it for us?”
Hornet shrugged. “I’m certain I heard you complain about a lack of clients.”
Sly frowned, then fluttered down into the chasm. “Nobody follow me yet!” Others shouted behind him, either in worry or annoyance, but he ignored them.
She hasn’t changed in all this time, to him still having the appearance of a youngster, though he knew better than to think her young. She didn’t draw her Needle at the sight of his weapon, but was holding it at the ready.
“Clients are no use to me if they don’t have Geo!” he shouted, then lowered the volume of his voice so that the bugs above couldn’t hear. “Want me to lead all these bugs to certain doom, do you? I know who you are, Hornet, child of the Beast. These caverns aren’t safe, as you are well aware, and even if a few bugs around them were somehow alive, it would not be worth the risk of spreading the plague to everyone living above.” He looked up at the worried faces. “I know myself how easy it is to get lost in the fumes of the dream.”
His words did not phase her. “Look around you, Nailmaster. The plague is gone. For good this time.”
“Pah! It had its calmer periods before returning in full force.”
She sighed. “I don’t have the time to try to convince you. Help those in need or not. I shan’t ask again.” She turned and walked past him into the western tunnel. “Let’s go.”
Sly had always considered himself quite observant, even if his eyes were not as good as they used to be, but his sharp senses must be truly dulled from disuse, he decided, because all this time, only a few steps behind him stood a massive, lurching figure. Not even just massive compared to Sly’s less than stellar stature. Truly massive. And oh so deceptively quiet.
It was leaning on the most beautiful Greatnail Sly had ever seen, looking over a groaning, injured bug lying on the ground. Hornet picked the bug up, and trotted on west, the silent giant figure following.
He knew who the figure was. Gods of Fate, perhaps this Hornet girl was telling the truth.
***
Its left arm was gone.
Not paralysed, just gone.
It would not matter, would not matter at all, if it wasn’t for the bug clawing at its feet on the ground, pleading for mercy or help or something else.
It could have carried it, could have been of some use, if it still had another arm to grab it with.
But now the Gendered Child - Hornet, she had called herself Hornet - had to carry it on her back. She was strong, but the bug was two thirds her size, and its bulky shell inconvenient for her to grasp.
The tiny fly with a greatnail who fluttered down the well was now back up again, shouting to the others. Maybe they would help after all. It should not hope, but it hoped they would.
Hornet was now encumbered, so keeping up with her was a little easier, but the Vessel was so slow she still had to stop and wait for it at times.
Why didn’t she just leave it here, and go out to save the survivors herself? Did she…
No. No, this was not a dream, this was no affection the Gendered Child was showing. She was not its sister in anything but outer shell.
Perhaps she was hoping that it would be of use after regaining its strength, even with only one arm.
“Pure Vessel! Did something happen?” Hornet was walking back to it from the ledge of a bigger cavern, worried. She looked it over briefly, but found no apparent problems. “We shouldn’t tarry. Do not stop unless you have to.”
It had indeed stopped without realising. It made up the distance as fast as it could.
She called it its old title, perhaps out of habit. Or perhaps she saw it as something it no longer was - something that it could never have been.
That hurt. More than being useless, in some ways.
It welcomed the pain. Pain was proof of reality. Pain was good.
***
Hornet had some trouble in getting her sibling down the transportation shaft. It didn’t want to part with the greatnail, but she managed to convince it to hand it over, and with some well-placed silk guiding lines and points to grasp, all three of them got down without new injuries.
She wasn’t sure how long the dying bug on her back would last, but leaving the Hollow Knight behind on the roads could bring danger to it, or to those it encountered. It hadn’t attacked anyone so far, it even tried to be helpful, but Hornet did not dare imagine what mental strain would be put on one in the role it served for so long.
Arriving at the hot spring, she was glad to see a gathering of survivors of all shapes and sizes. Miners from the Crystal Peak, guards, civilians, even two maggots huddling in a corner.
All conversations ceased when the two of them entered, most eyes drawn to the hulking figure behind her.
Hornet paid them no mind, approached the water and deposited in it the dying bug. She had honestly thought her a goner, but the bug groaned and opened her eyes.
The Hollow Knight stood still behind her, not approaching the healing pool. Why was it hesitating? Was it waiting for a direct order?
“Hollow Knight, lay down in the spring and heal.”
It stood still for a while longer, but approached the water next to the rescued bug. More hesitation. Finally, finally, it slowly lowered into the hot spring and shivered.
What was it like, Hornet wondered, to heal that long-standing of a pain. Was it a relief? Or perhaps it was terrifying, like the first breath of a hatchling so used to shell and yolk?
Voices around them slowly picked back up, but now more secretive, worried. The Hollow Knight’s name had not gone unnoticed, now whispered with disbelief, as well as reverence, resentment, or both.
She had to make sure they wouldn’t get themselves killed. “Good bugs. I am Hornet, and this is the Hollow Knight. I urge you to let it recover in peace, and to not provoke it. It will not harm you unless you give it no other choice.”
The voices picked up in volume, now more fearful than violent. It was the reaction she was hoping for - now less of them would be inclined to try something unwise.
She looked at her sibling lying in the hot spring, still slightly shaking. Its gangly body was taking up a considerable amount of space, so it bent its legs to make itself smaller, and scooted closer to the bug they rescued.
Despite her words, she really wasn’t sure if it would actually defend itself if attacked. Maybe devoid of purpose, it would have no self-preservation anymore, accepting anything that was to come. Maybe, unleashed from its terrible task, it would take any opportunity to lash out at the world.
Either way, she hoped no-one would try to find out while she was gone.
“I must go now to attend an urgent matter, but I will come back. If any of you are able, I ask you to take care of this bug and any others in need.”
A few vague noises of agreement sounded from the group.
“Thank you.” She nodded respect towards them, then turned to her sibling. “Hollow Knight, please stay here until my return.” She retraced her thoughts and clarified. “You need not always do what you are told, but I think for now it would be best if you stayed here and healed.”
It looked at her with no response, which was expected.
She turned and sprinted out of the spring, towards the entrance to the Fungal Wastes. Going through the Mantis village would be the fastest, as long as they let her through with no issues. She earned their respect, but being a child of Deepnest, never their trust.
Planning out her pathing helped her avoid thinking about the destination.
***
‘You need not do what you are told’. Hornet was only saying that to be polite, it knew. A few others, like Great Knight Ogrim, have done that in the past as well.
Who were the others? It couldn’t remember their faces or names. Were they real and long forgotten, or were they purely inventions of the dream?
Real or not, they were all painfully correct. The only thing it ever had to do was to rise out of the Abyss to meet its Father. That order had a pull too powerful to resist.
Everything else, everything that came next, was a series of choices it made itself.
This was not what a Pure Vessel was meant to be like. It hadn’t realised that at first, because it was new, and small, and did not understand much of anything yet, its head filled with incomprehensible knowledge. But at some point, the realisation came: ‘I do not have to do this and I never did.’
It was terrifying, having a choice, being aware of every little thing it could have done differently. It subconsciously pushed it all back into what Father called its Shade. Luckily, the Shade was good at keeping the thoughts in check - thoughts that shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
By the time it realised it had free will, it was too tied up in wanting it gone. If it wanted to be pure enough, it thought, maybe it could make itself so.
It never had to do what it was told, but it did so anyway, because it wanted to. It wanted to help, it wanted to save everyone, it wanted to make its father proud.
Wanting made it flawed. Wanting made it fail.
Why did it ever wake up?
Thoughts were bad, but the thoughts it was having now were particularly bad. There was less to keep it from drowning in its own head now, most of the physical pain gone, taken away by the healing water’s touch.
At least its missing arm still hurt, in what it suspected could be ‘phantom pain’. It heard the term while training with the Knights one day, one of them mentioning a mantis with no claw who felt it aching as if it was still attached.
Was that a real memory, or a figment of one of Her dreams?
What could it actually remember? Were any of its memories real?
Some of them had to be. She couldn’t have erased everything. She couldn’t. It reached inside, trying to find the earliest memory it could find…
***
It looked at the big bright space with a lot of bugs. Everything was…’confusing’. That was the word.
It had a lot of words in its head, and no idea how most of them connected to what was around it.
‘Mind’, ‘thought’, ‘will’, ‘voice’. It only knew what that last one was, because it was the first thing it experienced, calling it to rise up. The other three were completely unknown, no clear meaning attached. All it knew was that it did not have them.
It heard the Voice beside it shift, and turned. He was looking down at it, doing something with his face. It looked… ‘nice’. It tried to copy him, but found that it could not move anything on its face. ‘Mask’? He turned back to the bright space below, so it did the same thing.
It kept repeating, remembering everything that happened over and over, searching for more meanings of words.
Darkness. The Voice and a Light above calling it up. Seeing the Voice. Something ‘bad’ its memory skipped over. Walking to this place, to the ‘Palace’, behind him. A lot of bugs with voices speaking. Now, the two of them alone, standing here.
A lot of the words still did not make any sense. It felt frustrated.
No, it did not feel, because ‘feelings’ were another one of the things it did not have. It ‘was’ frustrated, then. That was better.
It was nice to stand here with him, in his light. He was the ‘opposite’ of the darkness that it came from. It was nice.
***
Over the next ‘days’, it learned a lot. Days were a way of measuring ‘time’. Time was what passed between ‘memories’ and ‘now’, going only one way, at one speed. It could not freely go back from now to memories, or from now to the ‘future’, which was on the other side of now. Bugs also couldn’t, but the Voice could.
The Voice was not a bug, because he was the ‘Pale King’, or ‘Monarch’, or ‘Your Majesty’. It itself was the ‘Pure Vessel’, on account of not having mind, will, voice, and so on. It was still unsure what some of them were. It wanted to understand, but ‘wanting’ was tied to ‘will’, so it just decided to understand whenever it had the opportunity.
The ‘Queen’ or ‘Lady’ or ‘Root’ were mentioned by bugs and by the Pale King, but only seeing her with its own eyes made it understand that they were all different names for the same person.
She came into the chamber when it was alone. It really wished-
It really was unfortunate that the King was not here when she walked in. He always made the world much less confusing.
The Queen was the tallest ‘person’ it had ever seen. She was also not a bug, but she classified as a person. The category encompassed all living creatures with a mind, which of course excluded the Pure Vessel.
It was impatient to learn what a mind was.
She looked at it, her ‘expression’ more complex than it could read, though ‘sad’ and ‘angry’ were the closest things it could come up with. Maybe not angry, ‘disgusted’. It was not a good expression to see.
She had ‘roots’ on her head, and ‘branches’ on her torso, constantly moving. It was… ‘mesmerising’ to watch. Helpful in not looking ar her face.
“It ascended then, obeying the call of its father. Is it truly pure? Does it have no mind, no will? My hopes conflict with its purpose, yet I will not deny that they persist.”
Was ‘Father’ another name for the King? No, ‘its father’. The Vessel’s father. The meaning was different somehow, when it referred to him, instead of a person’s father. It felt-
It was a good word.
It stared back at her. It had no voice, so it didn’t know what she was expecting of it, asking it ‘questions’. Questions were meant to be ‘answered’, were they not?
She breathed out some air - a ‘sigh’ - and she looked at a wall. Was there something there? It turned its head, but the wall was not very unique or interesting.
“I cannot look at it. Its face too much resembles that of a child me and the Wyrm would have created. But it is not a child. That darkness, that void, truly took everything away.”
It was like a ‘child’, then. The word connected to other ideas - Father, and ‘mother’, and ‘parent’, and ‘family’. But it wasn’t a child, because of the darkness - the ‘Void’. That word was important. It was made of Void, in part. Void was what made it pure.
The Queen squeezed her eyes shut. She was definitely sad now, a liquid, ‘tears’, gathering in the corners of her eyes. ‘Weeping’.
“I cannot bear to see it again. Forgive me. Forgive us.”
She turned around and left the room.
Could she not just keep her eyes shut all the time, if she didn’t want to see it? Couldn’t she just turn away? Why did she come here in the first place?
When the King - its father, its Father - came in to take it away, he frowned. “The Root was here. I was hoping she would avoid seeing you, for I knew it would pain her greatly. But what is done is done. In the end, it was her choice.”
He looked down, and changed his face again - a ‘smile’. He smiled. It learned that it was supposed to signify happiness, but not always. Many other things it couldn’t name yet were said by this smile.
Was moving your face a form of speaking with no words? Maybe that was why it could not do it. ‘No voice to cry suffering’, it remembered from its ascent. It had no voice to speak or to cry, but it was unfamiliar with ‘suffering’. It was like a very strong ‘pain’, but what was pain? Definitions within definitions.
It found out about pain soon enough. Father brought it to a room that it’s never seen before. A bug was standing there, and she was one of the ‘Five Great Knights’ it had heard about.
She bowed before Father. “Your Majesty.”
“Dryya. I believe the Pure Vessel is ready to begin its training.”
Dryya’s sharp eyes bore into it. “Good. I expect a lot from it, as the future saviour of Hallownest.”
‘Saviour’. That was a nice word.
Father crouched, and handed it a ‘weapon’ - a ‘nail’. It was cold, sharp, and made of metal.
“Here, hold it like this. You need to learn to fight, Pure Vessel. The future of our Kingdom rests upon you. Follow Dryya’s instructions.”
It held the weapon as he asked, in its ‘right’ hand, and turned to the Knight. She walked around it with squinted eyes - an expression it was unfamiliar with. It felt-
It seemed ‘judging’.
‘Expectations’ was a complicated word. It wanted-
It would be best if it could meet them. To be the saviour, to give everyone ‘hope’. Hoping was something it could not do, but when others hoped, it was a good thing.
Dryya was done looking at it, and clicked her mouth. “Ay, we will have to start with your stance. Observe and follow.”
It was easy enough to do. She corrected it a few times, poking its limbs into their right positions, but it was good at repeating what it saw.
“Very good. You learn quickly. Now, smoothly transition from one position to the next, like so.”
It followed. Dryya started off slowly, but her movements soon got faster. It managed to follow along, and it saw its Father smile, watching the training from the side.
It was feeling-
It was doing well.
“Excellent. I think you’re ready for the basics of parrying.”
For the first time, she turned her weapon against it. “I will go slowly. For now, just deflect my attack.”
It raised its nail and shielded itself from her blade.
“Good. Now, faster!”
She came at it from a different direction, and it held its weapon up with two hands, shining ‘sparks’, appearing where the weapons met with an unpleasant clang.
“You won’t always be able to use two hands. Hold me off with just one!”
It tried, and it found that Dryya was right - she did not hit with that much force.
It kept parrying, managing to keep up with Dryya’s changes in direction and speed.
Was Father looking? Would he smile again? It saw him in the corner of its vision, shifting its attention for only a moment.
“Good. Now faster!”
This time, it missed Dryya’s nail, and felt the sharp metal hit its mask. Stunned, confused, it found itself lying on the floor.
“Sorry! I thought you were prepared for it!” Dryya’s face was sad and alarmed at once. ‘Worried’.
So that was pain. It was bad. It was ‘awful’.
Father was kneeling at its side, gently touching the injury. “Do not be alarmed Dryya, it can quickly recover. This will be a valuable lesson as well.”
It sensed him give it… something. It trickled into its chest somewhere, fresh and bright and shining.
“You have Soul to heal, now. Focus it, and your pain shall disappear.”
It didn’t know what ‘focus’ was, but it still knew how to do it. Strange. The ‘Soul’ got used up when it did, but the pain really was gone. Father was so nice. He knew so many things, knew what was best. ‘Kind’. ‘Wise’.
“Good. Now get up, Pure Vessel, and remember to always do so quickly from now on, every time you are knocked down. In a real battle, the enemy will not wait for you to recover.”
It stood up. It didn’t want to-
It shouldn’t get knocked down again.
Dryya was making an expression, looking between it and its Father. Angry? No, not quite. ‘Suspicious’.
“Let us continue the lesson, then. Avoid getting distracted.”
It would listen to her, and do whatever she said. It didn’t want to feel pain again.
***
It understood so much more, now. The words in its head almost all had a meaning tied to them. Its existence had a meaning as well.
It was created by Father and the Queen, and put into the Void. Its mission, to contain what Father called the ‘usurper’, was its main reason for being. That’s why it was the Vessel - vessels contained. It was Pure, because it had no mind and will for the usurper to corrupt. The Void took them away before it was born, and now it had none.
Mind was what people called the complicated insides of their heads. Thoughts and feelings, things that made them have ‘consciousness’.
Will was wishes, hopes, and dreams - what people wanted, what they desired. It was also a strength of sorts - that is how people resisted the usurper’s attacks. Will could be broken, but if it had none, there was nothing to break.
It had grown since it arrived in the Palace, recently surpassing its Father in height. It felt-
It was strange, having to look down at him, instead of up.
It was standing in its usual spot in the throne room. Father was busy with a diplomatic mission outside of the Palace, so it was alone, absorbed in its thoughts-
Absorbed in its head.
Suddenly, it heard a new noise: a voice of someone it had never met before. That was becoming rare these days, as over time, it got to know most everyone who was even briefly welcome in the Pale Court.
It looked at the entrance to the room without turning its head. The person was tiny - smaller than the smallest the Pure Vessel had ever been. It was wearing a cloak of a colour it had never seen before. Ah, ‘red’. So that’s what red looked like.
The person was so small, it simply had to be a child. It ran in, looking around the room.
“Gendered Child! Come back here, please.” That was a voice it only ever heard once before. The Queen slid into the room, holding a tiny white cloak in one of her branches. “I know you are opposed to it, but it is against the Palace code of conduct for you to be wearing anything else than the official robes.”
The Gendered Child, as she was called, hissed at the Queen. “No! Made it myself!”
The Queen glanced in the Pure Vessel’s direction worriedly, not willing to come any closer than needed. “Come back here, child. This is the throne room. You should not be here, you should not bother the Pure Vessel.”
She received another hiss in her direction. The child followed the Queen’s worried glance, finally noticed the Vessel, and frowned. From below her cloak, she drew a piece of shellwood carved in the shape of a weapon, climbed up its cloak, and started attacking.
It barely felt the blows, being used to feeling the pain of actual nail strikes from its training sessions. The Gendered Child was… amusing. It let her continue her pretend-attack, slashing, and poking, and climbing its head in a failed attempt to bite its horns.
The Queen sighed and approached the Vessel with apprehension. She grabbed the child by her cloak, little legs dangling in the air.
“Noooo!” The child wriggled, and slipped out of the cloak, landing triumphantly on the floor. “Ha!”
The Queen, unimpressed, calmly hid away the red piece of cloth in her own garments. “If you do not wish to run around the Palace unclothed, you will wear the provided attire.” She offered the white robes instead.
The Gendered Child had clearly not thought this through. “But… but mine! It’s mine!”
“Yes, and you shall get it back once you leave the Palace grounds.”
The little creature, frustrated, looked away from the Queen, now speaking to the Vessel. “No, tell her! We’re siblings, tell her!”
“Leave the Pure Vessel be.” The Queen took her by her hand, and started leading her out of the room. The child still looked back at the Vessel pleadingly, and there was something about it that seemed so familiar.
‘Siblings’. They were siblings. It could focus on that, instead of the dark memory that was trying to surface. The Gendered Child was its ‘sister’.
She didn’t look like a creation of the Queen. Her eyes, her face much more reminded it of Father’s.
Was she also Father’s creation? How many more could there be?
The dark images returned, the memory of a face like its own, pleading with a hand like its own, hanging on the edge of its terrible fate.
It pushed them back, trying to focus instead on how interesting of a colour was red. It was wild and sharp, fierce and free. It contrasted nicely with a white mask.
So did the colour black. So did the darkness of the Abyss.
Perhaps it was best to forget about the word ‘siblings’.
***
“Father hates me, right?”
The Pure Vessel looked down, expecting to observe another passing conversation in the corridor, but there was only one person standing there. The Gendered Child was looking directly at it, was speaking to it for some reason.
“He hates me, I know it. When I’m in the Palace, he always hides from me. And when I find him, he always runs away.”
Last it saw her, some time ago, the sentences she stringed together consisted of two or three words at a time. This was a considerable improvement.
“He loves you, though, and I hated you for that, and for other things. But the Lady explained it all to me, and I don’t hate you anymore now.”
It gripped its nail under its cloak. ‘He loves you’. That sentence would forever burn itself into its mind. ‘Love’ was a feeling everyone always talked about, and the Pure Vessel came to understand that it meant deep affection and care for someone or something. Father loved Hallownest. He loved the Queen.
‘He loves you’. He loved the Pure Vessel as well. It never dared to put these words together before, but they felt-
They seemed correct.
The Gendered Child looked up at it, her gaze intense. “He didn’t want me, but he wanted you. But now you are dead, and full of Void. And I’m alive. So no-one is happy. Isn’t that unfair?”
It still didn’t know the meaning of ‘unfair’.
“You don’t have to answer, I know you can’t, or maybe you’re just not supposed to.” She awkwardly rocked back and forth, swinging her hands along with her Palace-provided white cloak.
It noticed a flash of red from beneath. So she still refused to take off the garment she crafted herself.
“Whether you can speak or not, we’re still family, correct? So I don’t want you to ever think that I hate you.”
What a strange thing to say. It would never think-
It would never expect her to be hateful.
“Both you and Mother will be gone soon, yes? So I wanted to make sure you knew that. I don’t hate you.” She looked into its eyes with purpose, as if staring at it long enough could ensure that it understood.
It understood.
“The Lady said it’s impossible, but I really hope we can see each other again. If I was bigger and stronger, we could spar, and I could show you everything I’ve learned.” She took on a fighting stance. It was quite good, but her short limbs made it look adorable, rather than threatening. Had the Vessel looked like that when it was smaller?
“If you could just walk around on your own, I could show you Deepnest, as well. It’s very, very different from the Palace. It’s dark, and the corridors are tight, and there’s Weavers, and Devout, and tapestries, and best of all, no stupid Royal Retainers.” She looked around, as if just uttering the title would make the white-clad servants suddenly appear.
She didn’t seem to mind its lack of acknowledgment, speaking to it with no purpose or reason. She was neither instructing it, nor giving it critical information, nor giving orders. Just talking. Talking like it was a person.
The Gendered Child was strange.
“You might have trouble getting through some corridors, though. Mother sometimes bops her head on the roof of a cavern, and says a lot of swears.”
It had seen its sister’s mother once from afar, tall, clad in red, tiny daughter perched on her shoulder. She radiated confidence, emanated danger enough for even the Great Five to fear her wrath and step out of her way. It was, admittedly, incredibly amusing to imagine her in such an undignified and ordinary scenario as hitting her head on a ceiling.
The Gendered Child put a claw to her chin. “I’m not sure if I want to grow as tall as you, or if I want to stay as I am. Do you like being so tall?”
It did not mind-
It did not have a preference one way or the other. It needed to be large to become more powerful, and to be able to contain the Old Light. So maybe it wanted-
So maybe it was more useful if it was large.
She looked at it quizzically. “You’re not supposed to think, but sometimes your eyes get more swirly when I ask you a question. I heard Father call it ‘processing’, but I didn’t understand the difference between that and thinking.” She swept the marble floor a few times with her leg. “Maybe it’s the same thing, just different when you’re dead. Maybe.”
It still didn’t understand the difference either. Topics like this one were murky territory it tried not to explore.
“Anyways, I would like to fight you, and to show you my home. Maybe we could play, too, if you wanted.”
Play. It was something children did - pretending, socializing, practising coordination and adult responsibilities. Its training was perhaps most similar to that.
“I’m a Weaver, you know. I’m much better at being one now, and my new cloak is much better than my last!” She pulled out the red fabric from beneath the white, showing it off. The Vessel didn’t see much of a difference, but it clearly mattered to her a lot.
“I’m not great at portrayals yet, and at writing. I can read well though!”
It didn’t remember learning to read. It was one of the things that came naturally, just like the long list of words it knew but had to contextualise. Perhaps Father designed it so, to make communication possible without a mind.
“Anyways, I made something for you. To remember me by, when you’re locked away.” She pulled out a small piece of cloth and held it out for the Vessel to see.
It was a woven image of the Gendered Child, clad in her favourite red cloak.
She held it out towards it. “Take it. It’s for you!”
She was so kind. It almost wanted to-
It almost made a mistake.
This could be a test. Why else would the Gendered Child be allowed to roam the Palace unsupervised? It imagined eyes hidden among the leaves, behind the pillars. Perhaps she had been put up to this, and ordered to report any anomalies.
Even so, it could accept it, take the risk. It could even grab her hand and run away, do all the things she said she wanted to do, defend them both if they came looking for it.
Father would be devastated.
It stayed still.
She frowned. “Are you not allowed to take anything with you? I know you have to follow orders, but I think that’s so unfair.”
That word again. Unfair. It wasn’t a pleasant one, but in its use it implied a noble wish: for fairness, for justice, for the world to be made right. If anyone deserved this wish granted, it would be her.
It wanted-
It wished to-
It looked at her face. It did not intend to make her feel like this. It wanted-
It was not opposed to taking her gift.
But it couldn’t risk it. It just couldn’t.
“Nobody has to know. Please, please take it.” Had she somehow looked into its head and seen its fears? No. It was well protected against intrusions like that. She was just guessing.
It did not move.
She stood as tall as she could, reaching for its clasped hands. She tried to pry one of them away from the hilt of its nail, but the Pure Vessel’s grip was unwavering.
She finally laid the gift on top of its hand, then backed away.
She looked aside, guiltily. “I don’t think Mother will allow me to come here again. She wants to spend time with me while possible.”
Right. She would be losing her mother.
It was impossible to imagine what it would do if it lost its Father. He was the one person it could ever rely on, always patient and kind, proud of its progress and understanding of its limitations. He was always there, and he would be there long after it began its duty.
“In truth, I sneaked away from my caretakers to say goodbye.” She swallowed, but kept a brave face. “I wish I could have known you better. I hope you don’t hate me.”
It felt pain. One that came not from a physical injury, but from the inside. It’s happened a few times before, mostly when that dark, terrible memory resurfaced. This pain could not be healed by focus, nor by any other means it was aware of.
All pain was bad, and this kind of pain was the worst. Maybe this was suffering.
The Gendered Child looked at it for a while longer, silence stretching between them. It didn’t know how long she would have stood there if alarmed voices echoing from the other corridor didn’t break her out of it.
She looked back. “They’ll be here soon and try to put me in the nursery again. I need to go.”
She turned to look at it one last time. “Farewell.”
With that, she was gone.
After a short while, two Royal Retainers entered the corridor where it stood, still calling for her and looking around, peeking into every nook. One of them, when she saw the Pure Vessel, stopped the other, grasping their hand.
“You don’t think that…”
“Maybe. She’s a cunning little thing. His Majesty would forgive me for this, and if we don’t find her in due time, I’m afraid the Beast will not.” She reached, and pulled back the Pure Vessel’s cloak.
She saw no sign of the little spider, nothing out of the ordinary. She let its cloak go and stepped away.
“That damned child will be the end of me,” she huffed.
The other Retainer hurried her along, their voice getting further away. “Ohh… I wish the Queen was here to wrangle her, but she’s spending so much time in her gardens now that we barely see her anymore.”
“Hmph. Do not even remind me. The King can’t be bothered to watch her for a moment, even when he’s just sitting around, doing nothing. Irresponsible, is what that is.”
The voices were now so far away that the Vessel could barely hear them. “Shh. Do not speak blasphemy. Someone could hear you…”
They were gone, at last.
The Vessel loosened its grip on its weapon, and stopped squeezing the tiny piece of woven fabric in its hand.
It waited for a long time. When it was positive that no-one else was passing through, it brought the gift out, straightening it out to see the image again.
It shouldn’t keep it. It should have let the Retainers find and take it away.
It had nowhere safe to hide it. If it held it anywhere in its wings, or its cloak, it could fall out during training. If it held on to it in its grip, it would have to let it go when its nail was tended to. It had no chamber of its own, the closest thing being perhaps the throne room, where Father would quickly find it and return it to the nursery.
It should not try to keep it.
It subtly made sure that it was still alone.
There might be a different way. It had no mouth to swallow it, but when it was younger, it discovered that it could keep smaller objects in the void of its body. Father almost panicked when he couldn’t find the spell tablet and the dagger it was given as learning materials. It decided, back then, to never use this skill again.
Its shell was thicker now, less pliable. Would it still work?
It reached its right hand to its left side, and found the place where plating seemed the thinnest. Its claws pushed. With some effort, it gave way, letting it quickly hide away the little piece of cloth.
Unlike an ordinary wound, it didn’t leak, or need any Soul to heal over. Much like an ordinary wound, it hurt while open, and then left it with lasting discomfort.
It returned to the position it always held on duty.
The discomfort spread, less and less physical. The Gendered Child’s visit was… unwise.
It missed the time when it knew nothing, when orders were simple to follow. It missed the time when it didn’t know that others had feelings towards it. It missed the time when it did not question whether questioning was a proof of having a mind, when it didn’t wish to know if wishing meant it had a will.
There was no test, but it somehow still managed to fail.
Perhaps it should stop trying, and just run, run as far as it could with all the strength it had, and avoid facing its failure…
No.
No, it couldn’t fail. Father knew everything, he saw the future after all. He could not be wrong. If he believed in the Pure Vessel, then there was no possibility of failure.
Its sister’s gift was a token of trust put in its purity, in their Father’s good judgement. It was a reminder of everyone who would be saved by its sacrifice.
It stood taller. If Father believed in it, then it could contain the usurper’s light. It had no mind, no will, because Father made it so.
It would fulfill its task. It would become the Hollow Knight. The saviour of Hallownest.
***
The steam from the hot spring was continuously rising up towards the ceiling. When it met the Vessel’s cold mask, it condensated, returning back to the bright water in pearly droplets.
Was this everything it could remember? Was this all it was certain of? There must have been more, but for now, Father and the Gendered Child, Hornet, were the only people on its mind-
On its mind.
There was not much point in insisting now, thinking in circles to try to avoid the word ‘think’.
It failed. Father was wrong, not for lack of wisdom or foresight, but he was wrong to trust it. It wasn’t pure, it never had been.
And now, he was gone.
Sadness was a simple feeling, contained within many complex ones. Grief, despair, and anguish, for example. If it allowed itself to feel at this moment, they would all be raging in its head, leaving a wreckage behind. It pushed them away into its Shade, ignoring its usual fierce resistance.
It half-consciously touched its left side with its remaining hand. Its sister’s gift was long gone; along with its left arm, it had been burned away by the mordant cysts that sprouted from within its body.
It needed no feelings to make a wreckage of its mind when She already managed to do it so thoroughly.
If She was truly gone, then what use would there be for a Pure Vessel? Now understanding mind and will, too exhausted to delude itself, it realised that it had never been very pure. But the Pure Vessel was the only thing it had ever been.
Another droplet fell from the tip of its mask.
It didn’t want to be useless.
The long white cloak given to it had almost entirely disintegrated, but dirty pieces of it that pus had glued to its wings swam around in the water. It attempted to fish some of them out, but saw the state of the pool on the other side where the bugs sat, and quickly gave up.
Maybe Hornet would find a use for it. It would not be against helping her, but she was always on the move, independent and self-sufficient. It was almost certain she ran off to see her mother now, and it felt-
It felt, yes, a twinge of jealousy, but was also glad for her. It meant she already had a family and a home. She didn’t need the Vessel in her life.
The bugs in the spring were slowly realising that the monster on the other side was not about to attack them, and really wasn’t doing much of anything at all. They broke the silence that fell after Hornet departed.
It listened to them with practised ease. It had heard countless conversations in the Palace, because when it stood still enough, for some bugs it became a part of the decor.
A small guard who laid her shield and nail on the edge of the pool spoke first. “So…I know what she said, but is that really… the Hollow Knight?”
“I don’t know what else it could be, miss Pilla.” A thin, lanky bug, marred with cysts and half-blinded by the Infection, answered her matter-of-factly.
Pilla glanced at the Vessel nervously. “It does look a lot like the statue I suppose, and it is the biggest bug I’ve ever seen.”
“Hmph. I’ve seen bigger bugs than that.” The large Crossroads guard, still holding on to his mace, wasn’t so shy about his gawking.
It didn’t have to stay here and listen to them bicker. This was not the Palace where it had to stand still day by day and hear all of the Pale Court’s drama, however crass or dull.
Yet, it was… curious. It never got a chance to listen to conversations outside the Palace, or to hear what ordinary bugs thought about the Hollow Knight, the King, or anything else. It stayed put for now.
“Look at its nail. Do you think a weapon like that was just lying around?” The thin bug spoke again, shaking his head.
“Maybe it was.” Pilla, the smaller guard, pitched in again. “There’s a lot of weapons left behind now, and there’s gonna be a lot of thieves in the coming days.”
“G-guys, don’t be rude. I’m p-pretty sure it can hear you.” One of the miners spoke up for the first time. Unlike her fellows, her profession was signified only by a headlamp. She must have left her pickaxe behind.
“So what if it can hear me? If it tried anything, I could easily overpower it.” The great guard boomed.
“Could you do it before it killed the rest of us?” A small round-shelled bug spoke up, supported by several others.
“Bah! Of course.”
Pilla crossed her arms. “You great guards are always so boisterous. You probably thought you were too strong to get infected, too?”
The great guard pointed at the Vessel directly. “Look, even this one got infected, right? So don’t you dare try to shame me. I did my job well enough, and it’s not my fault it didn’t do its own.”
“I’m not faulting you, I’m just reminding you that you weren’t stationed in the City, and there had to be a reason for it.” Pilla’s voice sounded smug.
The great guard stood up, water sliding off his rounded form. “What is that supposed to mean, you maggot?”
The small unarmed miner stood up, hands raised in appeasement. “Please d-don’t fight!” She was completely ignored.
Pilla started to slowly retrieve her nail and shield from the shore, not letting her eyes off of the larger guard.
The Vessel had never broken up a fight before. Would it manage to do so without killing or maiming? It tensed up, ready to intervene.
One of the older miners stood up as well, pickaxe in hand. “Pilla, put your nail back down.” Her voice was calm, but stern. She turned to the great guard, still composed, showing no fear. “Bar, you’re out of line.”
The great guard stammered, then sat back down, for the first time putting his mace away. “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” He patted the smaller guard on her arm. “You’re a good bug, Pilla.” He sighed. “And you’re right, I shouldn’t boast.”
Pilla nodded. “We’re all on edge right now. It’s nobody’s fault that they got infected. We should just be grateful that we are alive.”
Voices of agreement sounded around the small group.
“Still, that the Hollow Knight survived…” The thin marred bug spoke, looking at the Vessel again and shaking his head in disbelief. It did not appreciate his insistence.
“Wasn’t it meant to be locked away forever?” The small round bug whose name it still didn’t know pitched in.
Everyone was looking at the Vessel now. It tried to slowly slide beneath the water’s surface, but its mask was just too big to hide it all. Damn it. After all this time, it knew. It wished to be smaller.
It wished that it could remember more curse words.
Bar made another gruff noise. “If this is the Hollow Knight, then I’d really want to ask it some questions.”
Pilla nodded. “Yes, I think we all would.”
“How did it get out of the Temple?” someone pitched in.
“Why didn’t it answer our prayers?” One of the maggots, huddling outside of the water, got courageous enough to raise its voice.
“And most importantly, I think we’d all like to ask: why has it failed?” Bar frowned.
“Do none of you know anything about the Hollow Knight?” They all turned to the lanky marred bug, the Vessel relieved that the eyes were finally on someone else. “It cannot speak, think, or feel. It is a mindless automaton.” The lanky bug had to stop his sentence to deal with a coughing fit. “Why do you think it only did what that spider told it to do, and didn’t move or speak ever since?”
Pilla looked at him quizzically. “I’ve met some automatons in the City once, but they looked nothing like this bug. Where does your supposed knowledge come from?”
“I am Leed, and before the kingdom’s fall, I have served at the White Palace for longer than some of you were alive.”
“Ah.” Pilla nodded. “Were you also demoted when the plague returned?” She turned to Bar. “I used to be a City guard, you know.”
Leed shook his head. “I was not dismissed. I left. The King had lost his mind, wanting to hide away in a dream to escape the goddess of dreams.” He coughed again, spitting out globs of grey goo. “I decided I wanted no part in that madness. I knew what awaited me, I was no fool, so I returned to my hometown to pass the time and to say goodbye to whoever was left. When she finally came for me, I welcomed her with open arms.”
Everyone, the Vessel included, was staring at him in shock.
“So that’s what happened to the King…” Bar scratched his chin in thought. “I’d always figured he straight-up split and left the Kingdom.”
The older miner who earlier somehow de-escalated the fight, spoke again. “No, he cared for it too much. I don’t think he could ever leave it, not really. I’ve never seen him, but I saw his orders for the crystal mines, and no-one, truly no-one but him ever put this much care and thought into their smooth and orderly operation. He cared for us, as for all of Hallownest.”
Leed spat out a short laugh. “Ha! You praise him so? You didn’t know him, then. The King was ruthless in his pursuits. Efficient, yes, but ruthless. Never staining his hands with blood directly, but much blood there was indeed.” His one eye looked through the water at the basin’s floor, as if looking at something else entirely. “Did he care for Hallownest? Maybe, but not in the way you think. It was not a beloved child to him, but a thing to own. One of his precious possessions."
“H-hey, maybe we can talk about something more cheerful? Maybe we could sing together?” The younger miner looked pleadingly at her elder. “Prima?”
Prima frowned, still looking at the former Royal Retainer. “I do not claim to have known him, sir Leed, but I believe that results of their actions should speak for a bug’s good character.”
Leed laughed, a raspy cough that followed failing to stop his mirth. “Results! Oh, Miss Prima, the results speak for themselves, I believe!” He moved his claws in a wide circle, pointing at the whole of the room. “Behold, the Pale King’s eternal kingdom!”
“Well, at least we did survive…” Pilla argued, but sounded unsure.
“Yeah! And don’t speak such blasphemy, even now. Have some darn respect.” Bar stood beside Pilla, the two of them now seemingly best of friends. A few voices of assent sounded from around the group.
Prima nodded. “They are right, sir Leed. The Hallownest we knew may be gone, but some of us survived.”
“Yes! A-and! And the infection is gone, right? I t-think I would like to t-thank the one who got rid of it, whoever it was.”
They all looked at the little miner. She made an ‘eek!’ sound and shrank, as if squeezed by the sudden attention.
Prima slowly nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right, Myla. We were all so focused on the Infection and its tragedies, that none of us considered the instrument of its disappearance.”
“Right! It could not h-have just gone away on its own.”
The Vessel abruptly sat up, rising out of the water. Almost nobody noticed, except for maybe Leed, who looked at it briefly, eye narrowed.
She couldn’t have gone away on Her own. She couldn’t have!
Was this the dream pointing out the lack of its own internal logic? There was no bug, beast, nor god in Hallownest able to defeat the Ra-
Able to defeat Her. Father would have known about it, if there was. Right?
It would have to think-
It would have to investigate the matter further.
“Whoever accomplished the deed, the King must have foreseen them do so!” The small round bug shouted. “Glory be to the King!”
Pilla nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps it was a Royal Knight who had slain its source. The King sent them out to train, and only now they could return and fulfill their secret mission.”
A few other bugs joined in the praise. “He saw his own demise, but chose to save us still! Glory to the King!”
“Glory!”
“Aye, the old King was alright.” Bar gave Leed a dirty look. “Even if some bugs are desperate to tarnish his good name.”
Leed slowly shook his head, a dark expression on his face. “You all have no idea how ruthless he could be. What terrible sacrifices allowed Hallownest to last so long. He would get no praise from you if you had, and the cost of your survival would not appear so negligible.”
Prima frowned. “The King is gone, and only about a tenth of the workers I had under me made it. No-one is claiming the cost was small. What sacrifices do you speak of?”
Bar crossed his arms. “Yeah. Stop speaking in riddles, sir Leed. If you want to tell us about the King’s terrible deeds so badly, then tell us.” Bar spread his claws, half-mocking, half-curious.
Leed’s eye narrowed. “I suppose you wouldn’t know. After all, nothing was ever proven. Hunches, suspicions, hushed whispers and secret meetings, a rambling lunatic who got thrown out of the Palace for speaking blasphemy. I had my own theories, and enough sense to never speak of them aloud.” Someone handed him a cloth to cough into. “It was a question nobody dared to ask, but everyone had on their mind: where did the Hollow Knight come from?”
“Was it such a secret even in the Palace?” Pilla leaned in, now eager to hear the old bug. “I’d always heard that it volunteered, but you speak of it like it was crafted for the purpose.”
“It was not officially known to us how it was created, but there was… inferences to be made by the discerning. Not long before the Hollow Knight appeared, the Queen required many visits of the court physician. No illness dared touch her prior or after. When the King brought the Pure Vessel to the Palace, it was plain for us all to see that it had the form of a child.”
A few bugs gasped, looking over at the Vessel, pity, horror, or disgust twisting their faces.
“You can likely see what the more observant of us had on our minds. The physician, Almius, happened to be a close friend of mine. With his exhaustion after our Queen’s long ailment, the haunted look in his eyes as he refused to answer any questions… I could not help but wonder how many there were, before one was chosen.”
The Vessel couldn’t stay here anymore.
It stood up, wings dripping with water, trying to tune out Leed’s following words. A few bugs noticed it move and exclaimed in fear, trying to huddle as far away as possible, but most paid it no mind, enraptured by the story.
Maybe it would be able to get up without its nail now, having a free hand to help other survivors get here?
It would have to leave the weapon behind, with no way to carry it. It was like leaving behind another one of its limbs. It would leave all of them, if it meant getting out of here faster.
It leaned on its nail at first, but after some trial and error managed to stand without it.
It would take some time before it got used to walking smoothly again. With its long gait and substantial strength, maybe it could still be helpful somewhere. Somewhere where no-one would talk about the darkness from its memories.
It had barely left the springs, when someone nimble nearly ran into it - a bug with a weapon on her back, but under her arms carrying healing supplies. She was perhaps a little taller than Hornet.
“Oh! Hello there. Sorry, I’m heading to the spring, and Corny said it would be somewhere nearby, but what do you know, he happened to sell all the maps of this area, and had none left for me, the doofus. Do you know where it is?”
The vessel pointed at the doorway behind itself.
“Oh. I guess he’s not that bad at giving verbal directions after all. Thank you!” She darted into the spring.
The Vessel was about to venture out, but the bug came back out after just a moment, her claws empty. She clasped them together. “Alright. I’m currently on delivery duty because I’m the fastest, but I don’t know squat about medicine that doesn’t involve searing battle wounds, so they gotta help each other for now before Corny gets here. The spring can do a lot, but some things need more specialised treatment.” She looked up at it, and nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m Iselda, by the way, currently living in Dirtmouth with my husband. I think I’ve seen you in the old well with that girl - Hornet, was it?”
The Vessel nodded. Iselda spoke fast, clearly excited by her tasks, but she wasn’t nervous - if it was to guess, this was a way of being she was most used to, but hasn’t experienced in a while.
“Alright. I gotta go and get another batch, and then I’ll be searching the eastern side of the Crossroads for any other survivors.” She looked the Vessel up and down, as if considering something. “Seems like the spring alone worked pretty well on you. Wanna help me out?”
It froze for longer than it should have, then nodded almost enthusiastically, pointing to the corridor leading east.
It was… exciting, pretending to be a normal person. Nodding and pointing were almost like speaking, in a way.
It was the second most terrifying thing it had ever done.
Iselda didn’t seem to notice its turmoil. “Oh, you’re gonna go there right now? Alright, just be careful, some passages might be a little tight for you. This land wasn’t made for tall people, I swear.” She huffed, and then darted off, ascending back up through the transportation shaft.
It had had similar interactions in the past. Normal bugs, treating it like another normal bug, not knowing what it was. In Her dreams it happened so often that now its head was ringing with alarm bells, screaming at it to wake up.
Maybe Hornet was right - it should have stayed put.
No.
Thinking about seeing more dead bodies hurt, and that meant it was real.
It touched the remainders of its left arm, and pain flared out from the half-mended wound. Pain was still real.
It entered the eastern tunnel, looking into every nook in search of survivors. For a while, it found none, though it kept finding bodies. It put the deceased along the road in rows. Just as much as the living deserved help, the dead deserved a proper burial, but for now this was all it could do.
***
This really was an improved situation.
It quieted the others, subdued them. Less power, in exchange for more control.
Now, all it needed was its old shell. It still remembered the shape, the feeling of it. It served it once, it could serve it for a little while longer.
How hard could finding it be?