Chapter Text
At first Quirrel had been quite surprised at the strange bug’s weight, though after thinking about the amount of equipment they wore, it made sense. They were more metal than flesh, after all. Still, it made it quite difficult to haul them to the Archives. Currently, Quirrel was trekking through the Fog Canyon, the still-unconscious stranger flopped over one shoulder.
Quirrel had been trying to puzzle out what they were and where they came from the entire way. They definitely weren’t from Hallownest. That kind of arcanatech simply did not exist in Hallownest. As blasphemous as it may be, it outstripped anything the Pale King ever built by orders of magnitude. He didn’t know the function of even a tenth of the items they had, and already he had watched the suit put both itself and the user back in one piece. He was confident it was the suit itself that did that. If they had the energy to do such a thing, they wouldn’t have passed out after doing it. He hoped Monomon would let him aid in the investigation of their tech.
After a few hours of walking, he finally reached the Archives. A few other scholars and workers were staring at him, and the blood-soaked, yet seemingly intact body he carried. “Don’t just stand there! Help me!” He called to one of his colleagues. “And someone go get Lady Monomon.”
His words snapped the others out of their stupor. One of the larger bugs, a fellow named Choll, helped him carry the metal bug, as several others ran into the Archives to find Lady Monomon.
“What’s the story with this guy?” Choll asked as he carefully took the bug’s legs, wincing as the half died, sticky blood coated his hands. “And most importantly, whose blood is this?”
“It’s theirs.” Quirrel said with a grin as they carefully carried them into the Archives. Choll gave him a skeptical look. “I know, they don’t have a scratch on them, but that’s the interesting part! They were torn to pieces when I found them. But they just… put themselves back together. I’ve seen some bugs Focus, but they were practically turned inside out, and they healed completely in seconds.”
“What, they walked off all of their wounds, then decided to take a nap?” Choll asked, grunting as he carried the bug down the stairs into the main entrance hall. “Where are we bringing them? Is this a medical issue or a mechanical issue?”
“Right now, it’s a medical issue.” Quirrel answered after a moment of thought, directing Choll towards the medical wing. “And yes, they did collapse after healing. I’m guessing they used up all their energy keeping themselves alive.” He hypothesized as they moved towards one of the elevators.
“I guess.” Choll said, still sounding skeptical. He lowered the bug’s legs for a moment, pulling a lever to set the elevator in motion. A hydraulic hiss filled the air as the elevator swiftly ascended. “Still think you’re probably exaggerating.”
“Well, we’ll all know in more detail once they wake up.” Quirrel said in a peace offering. “For now, let’s just make sure they aren’t going to die.”
…
As it turned out, the bug actually WAS partially metal. Their right arm was entirely synthetic, up the shoulder. The metal, which was PALE STEEL, fused seamlessly into flesh.
Putting aside the technology itself, the material it was built with was a massive sign of power. Only the divine typically had access to large amounts of Pale Steel, for only the divine could handle the amount of Soul needed, with the amount of precision needed, to create the substance.
What kind of civilization could afford to build a full suit of armor out of the stuff? The bug surely had to be a very important figure in whatever kingdom they hailed from. (It was probably a she, given their size. Quirrel knew that there were some species where the males were larger, but for most bugkind, the females were larger.)
Wherever they came from, Quirrel really hoped they were friendly. Anyone wearing a suit of Pale Steel armor was a force to be reckoned with, even without the tech.
Back on the topic of their tech, metal cables wove in and out of their body like yarn. Quirrel had seen some of those cables retract to pull wounds shut. A good chunk of those cables are also attached to the rest of the armor. It would be physically impossible to remove the armor without killing them, since you’d have to take most of their organs with it.
Obviously, said armor had more than a few items built into it, such as some kind of energy weapons on the wrists, strange thrusters on the legs and arms, and other things he couldn’t even name. It was more than mere armor, it was practically a synthetic shell.
A synthetic shell… could it…?
Quirrel shook off that thought as he stared at the bug. Maybe the bug could offer Quirrel more than advancements for all of Hallownest. Maybe they could offer Quirrel something more directly. Maybe, just maybe, they could save his life.
…
Noctolith watched balefully as the light from above vanished, the door to the Abyss sealing as it had so many times. It was going to be a pain in the ass to get out of there. Albert less so than when He was stuck in an infant body.
“Now look at what you’ve done.” He snarled, turning to Ghost’s prone form. His sibling lay on the floor, trembling in pain. Their nail was nowhere in sight, lost among the hundreds of shattered masks.
Ghost pushed themselves to their hands and knees, shaking with the effort. ‘Fuck y-’ They began to sign, their grammar off due to the missing fingers.
Noctolith’s clawed foot struck them across the head, shattering one of their horns. “Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.” He said quietly, picking up his nail. “At least I am.” The nail came down point-first, shattering Ghost’s mask into pieces.
He let out another sigh of frustration as his sibling’s Shade fell through the floor. What the hell was he going to do now?
…
No cost too great. No cost, no matter how unbearable it may be, was too high a price to pay for His kingdom. It had to be that way, because otherwise He’d never be able to look at a mirror ever again. He still might not be able to.
The Pale King felt like the weight of the entire kingdom was squarely pushing down on His shoulders as He sat on his throne. The Pure Vessel stood to the side, staring at him with empty eyes. hegemol also stood in front of the throne.
“The White Lady has left?” The Pale King asked wearily. His wife had made it clear She would not be part of the Hollow Knight project. The carriage She’d be taking has likely left by now.
“No, actually.” Hegemol replied, causing the Pale King to look up in surprise. “She has everything set up for Her departure, but She hasn’t left yet. She wanted to speak to You.”
The Pale King hesitated for a moment, until Hegemol added “She’s waiting in Her gardens.” That was the final push it took.
The Pale King stood up from His throne, walking quickly out of the room, dismissing Hegemol. He thought He wouldn’t see his Lady for a long time, so if He would get one last chance to speak to Her, He’d take it.
Retainers bowed to Him as He walked past at a brisk pace. He barely paid them any mind. He’d grown so used to their presence that He usually didn’t when He didn’t need something.
The gardens were thicker than usual, more difficult to traverse. Plants that had been neatly trimmed and tended just this morning were now overgrown, aggressively overtaking the paths. That happened whenever His Lady was upset. As She grew agitated and closed Herself off, the garden changed to reflect that.
Still, it wasn’t enough to stop the Pale King. Not when He was this determined. After a few minutes of carefully navigating the ticket - He didn’t want to break any of Her precious plants when She was already barely on speaking terms - He found Her, as beautiful as ever.
Her body glowed with silver light, the same as His own. Of course, Hers was less obscured due to Her bare branches. Her eyes were low to the ground, the once azure color now faded to a more moderate shade. It was uncommon for such age-related ailments to befall Pale Beings, but the White Lady was not only much more biological than many others, She had also not undergone any transformation for most of Her life.
“My Root.” The Pale King greeted quietly, stepping into the small clearing. His voice was soft. There was no one around to see the softer side of their ruler.
“My Wyrm.” She replied, one of her roots slipping towards him to wrap around His hand. “I wanted to talk to you one last time before my departure.”
“I… I know.” The Wyrm said, uncharacteristically hesitant. He took the offered tendril in one claw, feeling the oddly smooth bark.
“I’m sorry, but I must leave.” She said quickly, as if trying to justify Her actions. As if She was the one who needed to do that.
“I know. Its eyes… its eyes are horrible.” He replied, shivering. He’d nearly blasted the thing back into the Abyss when He made eye contact the first time. “I don’t blame you got finding its presence…” He trailed off uncomfortably.
“They are.” Her tone held no disgust, only sadness and pity. “I cannot bear to walk the same halls as the puppeted corpse of my child.” Her root tightened around His claw.
“So you’ll be leaving tomorrow.” He finished quietly, looking down as well. “I will as well. I must visit the Archives to see Monomon.”
“Yes. I’ll be taking Dryya, some of my retainers, and retreating to my personal gardens in the west of the kingdom.” She confirmed simply. “I’ll be taking a few of your Kingsmoulds as an escort. The Radiance grows bold. We can remain together until we split ways at the Archives. But enough talk of such dark things. Let us… let us speak of happier times, just one more time.”
The Pale King was happy to do that. So, they spoke. For hours they spoke of trivial, unimportant matters. For the first time in a long time, they spoke of things besides the crushing burdens of ruling a dying kingdom.
…
Jack woke up with a groan, feeling bad, but not quite as bad as he expected given what had happened to him. He’d practically gotten dismembered by the damn Radiance, had an unhealthy amount of Void exposure, then gotten hurled through time and space. And now he was… well, fucking SOMEWHERE, presumably.
… chained to a table. He was chained to a table… and some crazy bitch was looming over him with a crowbar. Faaaantastic.