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It has been forever, since the ghost had seen its real sister.
Hornet is there, now, standing across the arena like she has been waiting for its arrival. It knows she is not real. She is a dream, a fragment of memory, trapped and bound here in the Godhome. Standing guard. Protecting.
The ghost steps forward, feet light against the stone ground.
Its sister's head snaps sharply to one side, as if broken. She releases a bellowing screech as infection begins to creep up her limbs, body twisting and extending in unnatural, sickly ways. Bony wings sprout from its back and it takes to the air with a single great flap. The beast chitters and groans and cries, as if calling out to please come closer.
This is not the ghost's sister.
It has faced a creature like this before. Nosk, it knows. The beast who stole its face and lured it into the far reaches of Deepnest, content with stealing the souls of whatever bugs dared pass. Only, now it was not its own face that had been stolen. It was its sister's.
The hunter had written about it, in its journal.
In the deepest darkness, there are beasts who wear faces stolen from your memories and pluck at the strings in your heart. Know yourself, and stay strong.
Nosk beats its wings, soaring through the air with an odd, disjointed grace. Infection spews from its mouth. It creaks and it groans. The ghost attempts to flee, dodging the foul attacks and swiping furiously at the beast with its nail.
These battles have made the it weary. For a moment, it wishes this was not a nosk. For a moment, it wishes it were fighting its sister. It knows that this is a dream. It is unsure how much of it is truly real.
But perhaps, far away, when it fights its sister in this hazy, dreamlike world, she fights in her dreams as well. Perhaps she remembers. Perhaps, it is not alone, not here.
Its sister is strong, and the duels they have shared have always been honorable. It enjoys them. It does not want to stare into a terrifying facsimile of her face. It simply wants its sister.
The ghost presses on, fighting and not knowing that this thought would have caused its creators' original plan to fail - the way it failed for a different knight, trapped in chains, in an egg far above in the crossroads. But perhaps that doesn't matter, because there appears to be another way.