Chapter Text
Rain fell softly over the streets of the city, filling up the canals on the edges of the streets. The idea of building a city under a lake was a strange one, yet the Pale King never stopped short of using one of Lurien’s ideas. Currently, the higher ups at Hallownest were having a rather long meeting with White Defender, Queen Vespa, Monomon, the like. Hornet and Quirrel were dragged along with them to the City of Tears but weren’t allowed to attend it.
Quirrel was the first one to speak. He had told himself he wanted to try and be more social. “So, what do you think they’re doing up here?”
“Nothing,” Hornet scoffed. ”Everything the Pale King is trying with the Soul Sanctum is useless. There’s even rumors it's just there to make it sound like he’s making progress while doing nothing.”
Quirrel tilted his head. “I think they can fix it, they have the best minds in Hallownest.”
“They haven’t done anything. And how is soul connected to the Radiance?! All they do is just sit there and throw things against a wall for an hour and nothing ever sticks.” Hornet pounded her fist. “They haven’t solved anything.”
Some time passed. Quirrel quickly got bored and thought about reading the book in his pocket but remembered it was raining.
Quirrel looked up. “So what have you been doing recently?
“Not much, just training with my needle.” Hornet looked away. “Nothing to do here, Hallownest has been stagnant for quite a while.”
“I’ve been reading a lot, but training a little too occasionally. With a nail, I don’t need anything fancy.”
Hornet rolled her eyes, “Of course you’ve been reading, you’re Monomon’s child.”
A loud bell rang in the distance, echoing throughout the caverns. It was 8:45, the time the higher up’s meeting was scheduled to end.
Quirrel waved goodbye as he slowly got up from his bench only to meet nothing in return. “Guess we finally get to leave now.”
“Took them long enough.” Hornet threw her needle at a high up wall and soared away, leaving threads of silk scattered on the ground.
“What a strange bug she is,” Quirrel said out of earshot as he wandered off. He checked his map, the quickest way to Fog Canyon would be through a stag station, but he decided to just walk. The scenery in Hallownest never stopped fascinating him.
***
Back at the Teacher’s Archives, it was strangely quiet. It normally was, it was a library after all, but Monomon would usually be talking to visitors or feeding the Uomas. She was currently in her office, presumably due to the talk with the Pale King.
Right before Quirrel was about to leave, he felt a nervous tap on his shoulder.
“Quirrel, I need you for a moment. It’s about the meeting.”
Quirrel paused, stunned. This was extremely rare, whenever Quirrel asked about what happened in the discussions, all he got as an explanation was that it was private or that Monomon wasn’t allowed to tell him.
Monomon walked Quirrel to her office and shut the door. Nobody else would be allowed to hear of this.
As she sat down in her chair, Quirrel could tell her hands were shaking. “The Hollow Knight is failing at sealing the infection. Three seals will be needed to keep it in.”
Monomon took a deep breath, pulling a strange white object out of her bag and handed it to Quirrel. “If some bug wants to undo these seals, they will need to kill me, but to do so, they will need this mask.”
Quirrel took the mask, attempted to put it on and then put it in his bag after realising it was too big.
“Guard it with your life. If this leaves your hands, Hallownest will be doomed.”
“I won’t last forever, what happens if I die? Do I give this to another bug?”
“The mask will protect you and extend your lifespan as long as if you were a pale being. You are still able to die, but only by another bug’s blade.”
***
Quirrel sat down on his bed. Carrying the mask in his bag was annoying due to the size and he couldn’t wear it. His eyes wandered around his room. There was a mattress, a bookshelf, a desk, a few other miscellaneous things and some sewing tools he never learned how to use.
If he couldn’t wear the mask on his face, he could try using it as a makeshift helmet. Sewing string from the sides would allow it to work like a hat, shielding the top of his head while keeping it from falling off.
Exiting his room, he looked to the lake that the Teacher’s Archives was built over. His reflection was easy to see in the stagnant water. The mask didn’t look too good, but it could always be improved. It kept Hallownest safe and that was all that it needed to do.
In his bed, Monomon’s words echoed throughout Quirrel’s mind.
“You are still able to die, but only by another bug’s blade.”
It didn’t matter if he lived for practically forever. He wasn’t good at using his nail. If someone sought out the mask to kill Monomon, he wouldn’t hold up in combat. He needed to train, and god, that would take a while.