Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            When Ghost first met him, they thought Quirrel was going to kill them.

            To be fair, the only bug they’d seen so far who didn’t try to kill them was Elderbug. Everything else in the King’s Pass and Crossroads had a tendency to attack on sight, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to think the strange bug standing before a giant stone egg would be any different.

            They saw the white of his mask first. Of course they did, it was nearly as big as he was.

            They noticed the nail second. If he was going to attack, they’d better be prepared for a fight.

            However, the bug was quite distracted, not noticing as Ghost crept closer. He didn’t look over even when they stood hardly a step away. Whatever he saw within the three symbols carved into the black stone, they hoped they could see it too. He looked absolutely fascinated.

            Did he know what it meant? There was something trapped within, something bound and screaming. Had he heard its cry too?

            Standing that close, Ghost realized he wore two masks. Though it technically didn’t make him any less of a threat, the fact that his head wasn’t actually that big made them feel better.

            He jumped when he finally noticed them.

            Ghost stood very still. They still had no idea what his deal was, but his eyes weren’t orange and he didn’t immediately send his nail through their head, so it couldn’t hurt to stick around and find out.

            The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, and Ghost immediately decided they liked him. He talked a lot about the Temple and the egg and then, when he’d apparently exhausted his thoughts on those, he commented on the town above.

            All the while, Ghost didn’t dare move, half afraid their motion would break whatever spell caused the bug before them to be so nice.

            After leaving that first time, they didn’t really mean to go back. They had enjoyed listening to Quirrel, but they had to keep moving. Besides, he’d said he was a wanderer like they were; he would most likely move on while they were out exploring.

            However, when they stopped in to check, he was still there. They wanted to stay longer and see if he had anything else to say (they were halfway to his side and about to wave to get his attention), but then they remembered they really needed to buy a compass and quill from Cornifer’s wife, Iselda. If they stopped now, they’d forget and thus be doomed to wander the Crossroads until they remembered again, and by that time, they would be hopelessly lost and would never find their way out again.

            They didn’t mean to run out without so much as a wave goodbye, but they really didn’t want to spend eternity lost in the Crossroads.

            On their next visit, they stayed a bit longer. They were surprised that Quirrel was still there (he’d said he was a traveler, right? They figured he was like them: the kind that never stayed anywhere too long) but the discovery was far from a disappointment. They tried waving to get his attention that time since he’d startled so badly the first two times they showed up.

            Not that they could blame him. Everything else in the Crossroads aside from themself, Cornifer, and the grubs, was out to kill anything that came within range.

            Upon noticing their presence, Quirrel waved back.

            That was nice. The gesture made Ghost happy though they couldn’t explain exactly why.

            Aside from a quick greeting, he didn’t say anything, and there wasn’t anything specific Ghost thought they could talk to him about. Still, they didn’t want to leave too quickly. They appreciated the peacefulness of the Temple, and it was nice knowing there was another non-infected bug still in the Crossroads. They took a seat on one of the steps and rested a bit before continuing on.

            Their last visit (he was still there??) was about as brief as the first. Ghost was headed below to explore a room that Cornifer had drawn an angry-looking bug on. Visiting the Temple again was an attempt at procrastination. Also, they realized they hadn’t actually explored the Temple beyond the space where the black egg sat.

            They solved this by running a quick circuit around the space. As it turned out, the rest of the temple was as empty as they’d suspected.

            “I realize I’ve introduced myself but still do not know your name,” Quirrel said when they returned to him.

            At the time, they had no answer for him. Rather than attempt to explain this, they just didn’t respond. They appreciated the fact he didn’t press the issue.

            After dealing with the False Knight and then meeting the Snail Shaman, they thought to visit Quirrel and the Temple one last time before moving on to Greenpath, but when they returned to the upper levels of the Crossroads, he’d finally left.

            It was disappointing, but they had places to be. Wherever he was, they hoped it was a good place.

Chapter Text

            They’d kind of forgotten about Quirrel by the time they saw him again.

            In Ghost’s defense, a lot happened since they met him at the Temple of the Black Egg. By the time they found the smaller temple by the Lake of Unn, Ghost had been all over Greenpath, chasing after the bug with the red cloak, and when they finally caught up to her, she challenged them to a fight.

            This did not end in their favor the first time. Or the second. Or the third…

            Ghost wasn’t sure what attempt finally ended in their victory, only that they knew the path from the stagway bench to that cursed stone arena by heart by the time it happened. Even then, it was a close victory. Afterward, they spent their remaining soul on healing, but void still drifted from somewhere beneath their cloak.

            Then they saw the three real ghosts. That had been… a lot. Three ghosts and three seals on the black egg. They had to be related, but Ghost wasn’t sure exactly how yet.

            Needless to say, Quirrel was far from their mind when they finally stumbled upon the green-covered temple he was resting in.

            Again, the larger mask he wore gave them pause before they remembered. It didn’t help that he was holding his nail as well, wiping orange from the blade.

            At the very least, he didn’t seem to notice their brief hesitation. He greeted them as cheerfully as he had before, and when Ghost remained silent (it’s not like they could say anything in response) he started talking about his own travels. However he’d gotten to Greenpath, it sounded like a nicer path than the one they took.

            He moved on to talking about the place in which the two were sitting while Ghost sat on the bench and organized their charms. They used a different set to fight Hornet, sacrificing their compass in favor of something that was useful in battle. Now that they’d gotten past her, they really needed that compass back.

            “These caverns have proven to be perilous to those caught unaware.”

            Ghost looked up to find Quirrel watching them. Specifically, he seemed to be watching the trickle of void that still rose from beneath their cloak.

            “You are more than welcome to rest here as long as you like. I believe this place to be as safe as one can be while in Hallownest.”

            Truth be told, unless he chased them off, they would’ve done so anyway. Ghost appreciated the invitation, though.

            A comfortable silence fell as they rested and healed and Quirrel continued to tend to his weapon. They liked hearing him talk, but Ghost also enjoyed the silence. There was something nice about sitting quietly in the same space without the need to interact.

            However, the rest of Hallownest awaited. When their wounds closed, they knew they had to move on soon.

            “Seeing as you’ve traveled this far, you must have some skill with the weapon you carry,” Quirrel said, breaking through their thoughts. “However, your nail seems to have lost its edge. I would advise you find one with a sharper blade if you intend to continue deeper into the kingdom.”

            Well alright then.

            They tilted their head, scrutinizing the bug before them. They found nothing but friendly concern, so maybe he didn’t mean to be insulting.

            Their nail might not be razor-sharp, but they had enough skill to counterbalance it (not that he’d know). The only reason Hornet beat them so many times was because she jumped almost as much as they did. The two often collided midair when one was attacking and the other dodging, or both doing the same. Hornet managed to come out of those incidents unscathed while, more often than not, Ghost felt like they’d been punched.

            Quirrel was still waiting for an answer, so Ghost drew their nail and pointed it at him. They’d panic about how bad that could’ve gone later.

            To his credit, he didn’t even flinch.

            “Again, I do not question your ability,” he assured them. “Consider my suggestion only as friendly concern from a fellow traveler.”

            Honestly, they were more amused than offended, even more-so when Quirrel didn’t treat the move as a threat or challenge. They put their weapon away.

            “You departed before answering me the first time, so forgive me for asking a second, but do you have a name?”

            That again?

            “Of course, yours is your own business,” Quirrel added. They’d been still for too long and he must’ve taken their hesitation as reluctance. “Regardless as to whether you give me a name, I will continue to call you a friend, if you don’t mind.”

            A friend?

            The thought made them warm all over. They’d found a friend in Hallownest. Imagine that.

            Well, now they really hoped he didn’t die or betray them later on.

            As for names, they actually had a response for him. Hornet had called them ‘Ghost’. It worked pretty well as a name and they couldn’t think of anything better.

            They carved the word on the bench and then headed for the door. They wanted to look around the lake before they left. If Quirrel was still there, they’d visit the little temple again before leaving.

            Their ‘look around the lake’ turned into a very brief fight when their attempt to greet the moss knight standing at the end of the dock went south. Quirrel had warned them. Oh well. The moss knights were skilled despite their infected state, but the fight wasn’t nearly as hard as fighting against Hornet.

            No damage had been taken in the scuffle, but Ghost returned to the bench just in case.

            Quirrel was still there, though they expected it this time. Their fight with the moss knight only took a few minutes.

            “I presume your meeting with the bug outside went about as well as I had predicted.”

            They nodded. Again, he’d warned them. They didn’t want to talk about it.

            When the urge to continue their adventure became impossible to ignore, Ghost hopped off the bench and again went to the door. Before passing through it, they waved goodbye to Quirrel.

            They hoped they’d see him again.

Chapter Text

            Fog Canyon had been equal parts relaxing and terrifying. The relaxing part came from all the jelly forms just floating along and ignoring Ghost completely. The terrifying part came from the massive explosions that happened if they accidentally touched the larger of said jelly forms.

            Stepping into the Queen’s Station felt like stepping into an entirely different world. The ornate white walls arched high overhead, and various platforms led below.

            Quirrel was sitting on one of them.

            He hadn’t noticed them yet, and Ghost couldn’t help but find the scene unsettling. A lone wanderer resting at the edge of an abandoned station, a single living bug against a large space dotted sparsely with corpses.

It felt sad.

            Ghost stopped wasting time and jumped down from platform to platform until they reached the one Quirrel was sitting at.

            The atmosphere was different from the last two times they’d seen him, Ghost knew as soon as they landed. It was almost as if the Queen’s Station held a second kind of infection, cursing any who wandered in to feel the near-crippling emptiness of the space. It was built to house crowds of hundreds, if not thousands. Without those multitudes, there was just dust and corpses and two travelers to bear witness to what remained.

            Quirrel gave a quiet nod in acknowledgement when Ghost sat down beside him, but he didn’t say anything else.

            Somehow, they were glad he didn’t. There was supposed to be a cacophony of voices as bugs waited for the stags to carry them elsewhere. In their absence, one lone voice would sound unnatural.

            However, when Quirrel did speak, it was with a sort of reverent sorrow that felt right at home within the stark white walls of the abandoned station.

            “The Crossroads have their charm and Greenpath its beauty, but I daresay that this station is the first remaining trace of Hallownest’s true former glory that I have seen so far,” he said quietly.

            When Ghost looked at him, he seemed very far away, almost like he was talking more to himself than the vessel beside him.

            “It is quite something, to see such grandeur in such a state, isn’t it?” Quirrel continued. “The silence of this place rings louder than the spaces before. Perhaps it is because I can so plainly imagine how much life used to exist here. This used to be a hub of adventure, a crossroad for travelers from all over the kingdom. Now, only bugs such as you and I make use of it, and only for a moment’s respite. Despite the solemn nature, I find it a privilege to see such things.”

            It felt so much more tragic when described that way, but Ghost found themself nodding in agreement. He wasn’t wrong. Even as the two sat there, Ghost felt like they could faintly hear the ringing of stagway bells.

            They stayed with Quirrel longer than they’d intended, but they couldn’t find it in themself to move. Quiet sorrow didn’t suit a bug like him, and they wondered about how lost he looked as he stared down at the lower platforms.

            As Ghost followed his gaze, they realized a single stagway sign was left unbroken and readable. Was this another station they could unlock? They promised to find as many as they could for the Old Stag.

            They stood slowly, glancing at Quirrel the entire time. He stared back, curious but subdued.

            Part of them wanted to drag him out of there. Perhaps back into Fog Canyon or whatever lay beyond the station’s other entrance. He shouldn’t spend so much time in a place as depressing as the abandoned station, staring into space as if he were somewhere else entirely.

            But they needed to reopen the stagway first. They might forget if they waited.

            Ghost nodded decisively and then hopped down to the ground level. A quick glance upward showed that Quirrel was still there, peering down at them.

            The sign pointed to a smaller room, and Ghost followed its direction. Just inside was a bench and a toll machine. Perfect.

            Seeing as they didn’t know when they’d get another chance, Ghost took a moment to sit on the bench and update their map. It didn’t take long since they really could only finish up the few rooms they’d passed through in Greenpath. They didn’t have a map for Fog Canyon or wherever the Queen’s Station was.

            Map updated, Ghost paid the toll and summoned the Old Stag, who greeted them warmly. He seemed happy about their progress, and Ghost found that his presence helped lift the lonely sadness that plagued the rest of the station.

            Perhaps they should bring Quirrel down there. Has he met the Old Stag? Did he know of the stagways Ghost had opened (not that they expected him to actually use them)?

            They ran back out into the main station and returned to the platform he’d been sitting at, but Quirrel was already gone.

            Ghost glanced around, wondering which direction he’d gone in. They couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed (and perhaps a bit concerned) at his wordless departure, but then, he did say he was a traveler. Despite what their initial meeting at the Temple suggested, it was foolish to expect him to stay still for too long. Ghost knew the type well since, in their opinion, the description fit them as well.

            With Quirrel gone, the entire station seemed to ring with its emptiness, pale isolation filling the space where bugs should be.

            After a quick farewell to the Old Stag, Ghost made a beeline for the exit.

Chapter Text

            The mantises were uninfected. The mantises were good fighters. Ghost respected them and did not wish any ill will upon them.

            That being said, the mantises made travel through the lower levels of the Fungal Wastes damn near impossible.

            Mantis claws were far too long, and the bugs moved too quick. Even with their new dashing ability, Ghost often found themself too slow to escape scythe-like claws that cut as well as any nail.

            As they carved a bloody path down to where Cornifer had drawn a bench, Ghost couldn’t help but think of Quirrel’s earlier comments regarding their nail. They didn’t like to admit it, but he might be right.

            The rusted metal still served it’s purpose, however, as Ghost backtracked after reaching the bench. They knew what they were doing and were getting better at picking apart the mantises’ attack patterns. It was skill that got them through the village in one piece and then down into the lower levels.

            Skill failed them once they reached the lords, however. One mantis lord made a worthy opponent, but two were just unfair.

            Ghost was on their way to grab their shade and then challenge again when they saw Quirrel. He was standing on a rise of mushrooms that sat just inside the village. He didn’t notice Ghost’s arrival until they were right beside him.

            Perhaps it was mean, but Ghost thought it was funny when he finally realized they were there. If they weren’t careful, he might reflexively strike at them, but until then, they took joy where they could find it.

            They were also quite relieved that he was in a more cheerful mood. They’d worried about whatever was going through his head back at the Queen’s Station. Hopefully, whatever it was, was gone, left behind with all the other dead things that clustered in the corners of the abandoned station.

            “It’s good to see you again, though I must say, I’m not sure if I favor the circumstances,” Quirrel told them. “The mantises of this tribe are incredibly aggressive despite escaping infection. Then again, I suppose it’s understandable, given the bugs that live around them, and that’s not even speaking of what lies beyond the gate they guard.”

            That was fair. Ghost had only caught a glimpse of what lay on the other side of the lords’ chamber, and what they saw made them reconsider fighting so hard to gain access.

            Apparently Quirrel knew something about it, so they stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

            The attention seemed to unsettle him, but he complied anyway.

“The mantis lords are called such due to their fighting prowess. If you intend to face them below, you might want to find a better weapon.”

            Oh. That again.

            They might’ve grudgingly agreed with him, but that didn’t mean they wanted to admit it or hear the reminder again. In response, they pointed their nail at him again. They felt a bit bad about the state it was in, infection and soul clinging to the worn metal, but then again, maybe the viscera helped get the point across (no pun intended, but they weren’t sorry).

            “The kingdom’s capitol city isn’t far from here,” Quirrel continued, just as calm as he’d been the first time he faced their blade. “I’m sure if you were to find a nailsmith left anywhere in this kingdom, you would find one there.”

            Ghost huffed and lowered their weapon. The reminder made their shell itch, but Quirrel’s honest concern made it hard to be upset with him.

           As for his comment on the city, Ghost recalled the bridge they nearly chased Hornet over. ‘Nearly’ because the actual bridge was gone, leaving a mess of thorns hanging above a lake of acid. Now that they could climb, they could go back there. If the signs were correct, that was the way into the capitol from there.

           “Forgive me for not wanting to see you die due to a malfunctioning weapon,” Quirrel said dryly, reclaiming their attention.

           That was kind, but they wondered what he’d say to the fact that they’d already ‘died’ countless times, none of which had to do with a blunt blade. Mostly it was them misjudging how close they were to things, or missing a ledge when traversing the more acid-infested parts of the wastes. Or those terrible awful plants that exploded when they got too close.

           Before Ghost could figure a way to express any of that, they heard the buzz of a juvenile mantis behind them.

           By the gods, they’d be hearing that sound in their sleep.

           Their response was almost automatic, leaping up and striking at the flying mantis before it could get a hit in. It stabbed downward with its stinger a few times, but Ghost’s nail eventually split its shell just as it had all the others.

           That done, Ghost looked at the downed mantis and then back to Quirrel and dared him to comment on their nail again.

           “You’re quite stubborn,” he sighed.

           Ghost nodded. It was the only reason they’d gotten as far as they did.

            “If you insist on braving the Village before upgrading your weapon, I won’t stop you. It is, after all, your right to choose your own battles. Do be careful, though. I admit, I would very much like to see you again during my time here, and preferably while you are alive and in one piece.”

            Oh.

            Well, damn. He’d be easier to ignore if he was patronizing or insulting, but that was nice.

           Ghost found themself unsure of how to respond. As he’d said, they had the right to choose their own battles, which they fully intended to do. They’d only lost to the mantis lords once, after all. Hornet beat them way more than that.

           Either way, they could handle it. Quirrel shouldn’t worry. Ghost didn’t want him to worry.

           They’d been silent for too long and he looked like he was going to say something else.

           Before he could (they were still processing the genuine concern, ok?) Ghost took a few steps backward and slashed at the air with their nail in the hope he would understand. Win or lose, they’d come out on top eventually.

           They nodded at the mantis they’d killed. It wasn’t the first, and most likely wouldn’t be the last.

           They pointed their nail at Quirrel again and nodded. He needed to worry more about himself. If Ghost fell, they’d come back. He wouldn’t.

           There was no time to explain all that to him, but still.

           Ghost turned and ran before he could respond.

Chapter Text

            After the mantis lords opened the gate to them, Ghost took one look at Deepnest and decided to follow Quirrel’s advice and backtrack to the city.

            They somewhat regretted the choice when the massive stone wall slammed shut behind them, but figured it was still better than whatever lay in the shadows beyond the Mantis Village.

            Hallownest’s capitol came with its own difficulties.

            A few common husks wandered the abandoned hall of whichever building Ghost was in, and they were dealt with as easily as the ones back in the Crossroads. A flying bug dove down at them and exploded upon contact with the ground, but it was easy enough to dodge.

            The guards were another story.

            Ghost had been willing to admit that their nail did poorly against the mantises, but it practically did nothing to the husk guards’ armor. Not only did they have armor, the guards seemed to recall their training and purpose. They fought about as well as the mantises had, though their movements were sharper and unnatural.

            Ghost wound up jump-dashing overhead more often than fighting.

            Compared to the guards on their tail, the ancient elevator seemed like a safer option. They struck the lever with their nail and winced at the awful sound the machine made, both after they struck it and when the ancient gears began drawing the carriage downward. The guard was left behind.

            Now they just had to pray the elevator didn’t drop them all the way to street level. Sure, Ghost could survive the jump themself, but they didn’t trust the elevator not to get squished when it landed (and squish them in the process).

            The expected crash never came, but the entire structure did shudder in a way Ghost decisively did not like, so despite not being on the street level, they stumbled out as soon as the rusted doors opened.

            The city was a deathtrap and they weren’t even on the ground yet.

            There were no words for the relief they felt when they saw Quirrel at a bench by the window.

            Ghost ran toward him with all the desperation of a vessel wandering through a deathtrap of a city when the last bench they’d seen was back in the wastes.

            “I see you survived the mantises,” Quirrel said as Ghost pulled themself up. He moved aside so they had more room.

            Ghost didn’t have a good response to that, and they were so grateful for a moment of respite that they just stared at him. He could interpret that however he wanted.

            “We’re in the heart of Hallownest, my friend,” he continued, and Ghost looked up at the word. He’d called them that before, but they didn’t think he actually meant it. The way he said it now made them wonder if he did.

            “This city is the largest in the kingdom, home to the wealthier of Hallownest’s citizens. If you look closely, I believe you can see some of them wandering the streets below, still protected by guards who remember their duties even in death.”

            No kidding.

            On the other side of the glass, the endless rain made the image blurry, but they could make out more dark buildings rising in the distance and tiny figures wandering the streets that ran between. The city was so much bigger than they’d expected. Ghost couldn’t tell if they were more anxious or excited to start exploring.

            “If you intend to head further into the city, I’d offer a word of caution: though dead, the armored bugs that patrol these streets recall more than just their assigned routes. They are still skilled and experienced fighters, more so than any other you’ve faced above.”

            There was that genuine concern again.

            Ghost was about to point their nail at him again (they suspected that was the anticipated response) but then decided against it. They believed him in that the guards made for difficult enemies (they had firsthand experience) and there was little doubt in their mind that even more dangerous creatures lurked in the lower levels Hallownest (like Deepnest).

            But what about Quirrel? How did he compare to the threats of the kingdom? He carried a fine-looking weapon, but Ghost had never seen him use it. They supposed he wouldn’t have gotten that far if he didn’t know how to defend himself, but then, Zote managed to get into Greenpath before Ghost had to rescue him.

            The bench the two were at was set high above the outskirts of the city, and Quirrel hadn’t brought up any plans for his own exploration. Maybe he didn’t intend to go down at all?

            “Yes?” Quirrel said when they’d been quiet too long.

            They might as well ask. Ghost pointed at him and then out the window.

            “I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you’re asking of me.”

            The gesture had been pretty vague.

            Trying again, Ghost made a show of looking around the room before pointing at Quirrel and then out the window.

            “You wish to know if I too plan on exploring the rest of the capitol?”

            Oh good, he got it on the second try. Their next idea was to just start carving words into the floor if he still didn’t understand.

            A shadow crossed Quirrel’s face and Ghost thought of how he’d looked back in the Queen’s Station.

            “I do, though I admit that something has thus far prevented me from continuing.” He turned back to the window. A phantom image of the mask atop his head was reflected in the glass. “It’s silly, really. After traveling so far and for so long, I am finally standing before the place I’d been searching for, and now that I’m here, I can’t bring myself to take a step further.”

            Perhaps it hadn’t been the station’s somber atmosphere that brought about the hollow note in his voice.

            After all, Ghost didn’t know very much about him.

            Quirrel gave a heavy sigh that spoke of a lifetime’s exhaustion. However, when he turned back to Ghost, he sounded as cheerful as he always did. “You are quite the listener. I hope I’m not boring you with my senseless speculations.”

            Ghost was far from bored and they had a feeling that very little of what Quirrel said and did could be considered ‘senseless’. They wanted to know what troubled him so much. If they knew, maybe they could do something about it.

            In order to express this, they shook their head (no, they weren’t bored), and when he still didn’t continue, they gestured for him to keep talking.

            Quirrel’s laugh held little humor in it, but his voice was kind. “I promise I’m done complaining, for now. I do appreciate the gesture, though. Thank you.”

            Ok, so that did nothing.

            Ghost stared at the floor. Maybe they shouldn’t pry. If Quirrel didn’t want to talk about it, that was his right.

            There was movement close to their head, and then claws clicked against their mask.

            The vessel moved without thinking, ducking out of range of whatever was attacking them and nearly falling off the bench in the process.

            “Oh!” Quirrel likewise recoiled as if he’d been burned.

            What… just happened?

            “Apologies, friend. I should have asked,” Quirrel was saying. “I did not mean to offend.”

            Ghost stared at him. There was no danger beside the bench or within the rest of the room. Just Ghost and Quirrel, the latter of which was leaning away as if afraid to touch them.

            Not wanting to keep staring and unsure of what else to do, Ghost redirected their gaze to the floor.

            They understood Quirrel had been the one to reach for them. They didn’t think he was trying to hurt them (if they did, they wouldn’t still be on the damn bench), but if that wasn’t the intention, why touch them at all?

            The awkward stillness dragged on, and Quirrel was beginning to look concerned again. Concerned and sad, two things Ghost decisively did not want him to be. He still leaned away from them, hand still half raised as if he didn’t know what to do with it.

            They trusted he had no intention to hurt them. There was no harm in letting him continue.

            However, even when Ghost was back to sitting normally on the bench, he didn’t move. Whatever he’d been doing, he didn’t look like he wanted to try again.

            Amused and rather touched by the gesture (again, no pun intended. Again, not sorry), Ghost reached for his hand and he let them. They’d intended to just put it back on their head, but the contact made them pause.

            They’d never held another bug’s hand before. They’d never had the need to get that close, it had never been safe to. It was a strange thing, being that close and not being attacked.

            Curious, they ran their thumb across his palm. His shell was stronger than theirs, less flexible, but more protected. The surface was rough, hinting at years spent traveling and fighting, his claws blunt from use.

            Ghost looked down at their own hand. They didn’t really have claws at all.

            What were they doing again?

            They glanced back to Quirrel’s face. His gaze was more curious than sad, but the concern was still there.

            Right.

            Ghost directed his hand back to the top of their head. He felt warm. It was nice.

Maybe that was the reason.

            “Please forgive my clumsy attempt at expressing affection,” Quirrel said, looking quite relieved. “I did not mean to startle you.”

            He patted their head once and then drew away, but Ghost stopped him. Somehow, it never really crossed their mind that touch didn’t have to hurt. The fact it took so long to realize probably didn’t speak well of their lifestyle, but they understood now, and it was nice. They didn’t want him to stop.

            Quirrel obliged, though the note of sadness was back in his voice. “You’re not much used to kindness, are you.”

            Ghost felt like their earlier reaction was answer enough, and he didn’t phrase it as a question. However, they were enjoying the nice touch and didn’t want to make things even more depressing, so they just shrugged.

            Eventually, Quirrel drew away and Ghost was forced to let him. As warm and fuzzy as they felt from the contact, they had an entire city to explore.

            Still, it took a while before they could find the will to get moving again. They didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to have to face the husk guards again. Couldn’t they put it off just a bit longer? They wanted to stay with Quirrel and listen to the rain and maybe hear him talk more about whatever went through his head when he looked so distant.

            Time ticked by, meaningless against the endless patter of rain. The City of Tears was aptly named, but for the moment, Ghost didn’t see it as morose. The cavern was enormous, and intricately designed buildings ran from the ground to the ceiling, as if holding up the rock above. Below, the streets beckoned, lumifly lamps glowing softly.

            Unfortunately, Ghost couldn’t stay there forever. They hopped off the bench and skipped over to the elevator. Despite knowing they would have to face the city’s dangers as soon as they left the shelter of Quirrel’s presence, they found themself less scared than before. They were happy.

            Happy. What a concept in Hallownest. They hoped the city didn’t chase the feeling away too soon.

            Ghost turned to wave goodbye to Quirrel before striking the elevator lever again.

            He waved back, but he didn’t seem to share Ghost’s optimistic energy. As the elevator creaked downward, he went back to staring out the window in the sad/thoughtful sort of way he had before. Then the building’s stone wall blocked him from view entirely.

            What a whirlwind of emotions, Ghost thought. They weren’t used to feeling so many things all at once. Happy and worried and excited and sad, they stared out at the city as the elevator approached street level.

            Unable to wait (and still untrusting of the elevator’s ability to land gently) Ghost forced the rusted doors open and jumped the rest of the way.

            The air was cold, made colder by the rain that seeped through their cloak, but they found it energizing. The heart of Hallownest lay before them.

            Water splashed near as high as their horns when Ghost landed on the cobblestone street. From there, everything looked so much bigger, and they found themself more excited than afraid of what they might find within. They would find the nailsmith and search the city and maybe even get a few answers. Hornet had been heading that way the last time they saw her. Maybe she’d be more willing to talk this time.

            Ghost looked up. The rain blurred their vision, tapping against their mask and dripping into their eyes, but they could just barely make out the window where Quirrel sat.

            There was so much they had to do, but when they were done, they’d try to find him again.

Chapter Text

            Even with a renewed blade, the City of Tears was not an easy place to traverse. The roads were slick, and deep-water canals bisected the stone. Combat was difficult, especially against the husk guards that flew, but things were made just a bit better by the fact that Ghost could survive falling into the water. Nothing else did, and they tried not to think too much about it.

            They did eventually find Hornet again, and she technically spoke to them, but the encounter left Ghost with far more questions than they’d had to begin with. At least she confirmed that the three spirits they’d seen had something to do with the Temple of the Black Egg.

            And what lay within…

            …

            As it turned out, half the city was unreachable by the main streets. Though old, the reinforced barriers the wealthier citizens had closed to keep out the infected commoners still worked well as deterrents. Unable to find a way through, Ghost tried going up.

            They found Cornifer again and bought a map. They discovered a stagway station set in a huge storeroom, and a massive elevator that took them up to the Crossroads.

            There was also the Soul Sanctum, but they didn’t want to think about it.

            When their way was impeded again, Ghost used a simple key to unlock the big hatch set in the middle of an alleyway.

            The Royal Waterways were probably the worst place Ghost had ever been. The creatures that lurked down there were ugly and strong and made awful noises. There was a horrible mix of water and acid, and Ghost often didn’t know one from the other until they fell in.

            Meeting the Dung Defender made them happy. Sure, he fought them, and sure, they spent an annoying amount of time going back and forth between the broken bench and his bend of the tunnels, but he was almost overly friendly after they defeated him, even rewarding their victory with a charm.

            Still, they intentionally threw themself into the acid afterward so they could be sure they were rid of the stuff that lined the walls and clogged the pipes on that side of the waterways.

            Don’t think about it. Don’t.

            Ghost resurfaced when they hit a wall with their waterway exploration. Though frustrated (they should probably challenge the Soul Master again, though they didn’t want to), they were beyond happy to be back in the City of Tears.

            Stepping out into the rain, Ghost could feel the almost giddy energy from earlier. Despite any setbacks, they’d gotten a lot done.

            Unsure of where to go next and not willing to commit to a return trip to the Soul Sanctum, Ghost wandered back in the direction of the nailsmith. Having him reforge their nail had been remarkably cheap, so they still had a lot of the geo. An older bug called Lemm had given them a fair bit of geo in exchange for the relics they’d found.

Would the nailsmith be willing to upgrade their nail again? Though, he told them not to come back unless they had some pale ore…

             Deep in thought and not looking where they were going, Ghost didn’t see just how close they were to the edge of the road until they took a step and only found air.

            The canals were cold, but at least they were clean (and not acid). Ghost floated easily to the side and was about to climb out of the water when they looked up to the building before them. They’d backtracked all the way to the building they’d entered by.

            They picked out the window and room they’d been in before, but couldn’t see any details behind the glass. An untold amount of time had passed since they left Quirrel at the bench. He couldn’t possibly still be there, right?

            Ghost crawled out of the water, still staring up at the window. There was only one way to find out, and they wanted to get in out of the rain for a bit anyway.

            It didn’t crash-land the way Ghost had expected it to when it reached the street, so the elevator still functioned. That didn’t mean they trusted the way the rusted chains groaned when they struck the lever. They were half prepared to jump back out if the carriage so much as stuttered. In the meantime, they tried to wring some of the water out of their cloak. Probably a wasted gesture, but it gave them something to do.

            Quirrel was still at the bench when the elevator finally came to a creaking stop, and Ghost couldn’t be happier.

            “Is that you, Ghost?” Quirrel asked as the vessel ran over to the bench. He seemed disoriented, as if he’d been asleep.

            Ghost would’ve felt worse about disturbing him if they didn’t have so much to share about their time in the city. They were so excited, they couldn’t sit still, jumping off the bench nearly as soon as they sat down.

            “Good news, I presume?” He sat up straighter, looking just a bit more awake.

            The first thing Ghost thought to do was show him how the nailsmith reforged their nail. With the blade’s killing edge restored, he could stop pestering them about it.

            “So, you finally heeded my advice and visited the nailsmith,” Quirrel said, unbearably smug.

            Ghost held up their hands. Yeah, he was right, but in their defense, they’d never argued that he wasn’t. They swiped their nail through the air one more time, just in case he still thought the weapon lacking.

            When he didn’t comment further, they showed him the charms they’d collected. Specifically, they wanted to know if he recognized the one the Dung Defender gave them. He didn’t, but Ghost found it hard to be disappointed.

            “You’ve been busy,” Quirrel said with a laugh.

            They had, but how much time had passed? Between the eternal kingdom being, well, eternal, and possible time loss from losing their shade, time was hard to quantify. Ghost decided they’d spare themself the headache.

            What else could they tell him about? There was the Soul Sanctum and the waterways and…

            Ghost withdrew their map and unfolded it across their knees. When Hornet gave them her cryptic suggestion of seeking the ‘grave in ash’, she’d also given them a set of map markers. The three had to do with the Temple of the Black egg, which was where they’d first met Quirrel. Maybe he knew something?

            In an attempt to explain, they pointed out the three mask marker, drawing imaginary lines with their finger to show they understood (or at least assumed) the masks were connected to each other somehow.

            When they looked up to prompt a reaction, Quirrel seemed very far away. It didn’t look like he saw Ghost’s gesturing at all.

            Concerned, they tucked away their map and jumped up onto the bench.

            Quirrel flinched, as if waking a second time, and Ghost stared, waiting for an explanation.

            “I’ve… just been here,” he said. “Still wrestling with my thoughts, I suppose.”

            Despite his casual tone, he seemed serious, and Ghost didn’t know what to do about it. They’d hoped he’d be feeling better by the time they found him again, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

            In an attempt to better collect their thoughts, they slid off the bench and wandered over to the window. In the reflection, they could only pick out the lighter forms around them, like their mask.

            Also, the blade of Quirrel’s nail.

            They couldn’t help but think of how often he’d brought up the state of Ghost’s nail. His own seemed to be in perfectly fine condition. The pale metal didn’t even have a scratch, and the edge was as sharp as if it were new.

            Ghost gestured to where he’d leaned it against the bench and then pointed to the window. It was a longshot, but it was the first thing they could come up with.

“Are you asking if I want to visit the nailsmith myself, or telling me that I should?”

            They nodded. Either worked, so he could pick.

            “It’s a fair idea, though I don’t really carry the geo for such an upgrade,” Quirrel told them. “It’s alright, though. My nail isn’t nearly in such a sorry state as yours was, so I think I’ll be fine without.”

            Even after they had it fixed, he still brought that up.

            Ghost pulled their geo bag from their cloak and set it on the bench. They told themself they were being charitable, but honestly, they did it because they knew he wouldn’t like it. When he did nothing but flounder for a response, they pointed.

            “That’s, um, very kind of you, but I don’t feel comfortable taking your money,” he said, looking just as uncomfortable as they’d expected.

            Amused, Ghost put their geo away and returned to the bench. They’d had their revenge. Back to serious thought.

            “I appreciate the support, my friend, but you are not obligated to face my trials with me. There’s no need to go through such trouble.”

            Trouble? No, trouble was chasing a bug through half of Greenpath just for her to accuse them of doing something (she never did specify) and then try to kill them for it. Helping Quirrel was hardly any trouble at all, though Ghost had a feeling they’d still try even if it were.

            Though, Quirrel had said so little on the subject that they still didn’t quite understand what was wrong. That was a problem. Ghost couldn’t help with problems when they only had half the story. (they wished Hornet would realize this too)

            The larger mask Quirrel wore meant patting his head wasn’t really possible or practical, so Ghost reached up and patted his shoulder instead. The gesture had made them feel better, so it was worth a shot. While doing so, they gestured for him to talk.

            “Something beyond my own curiosity has brought me to Hallownest,” Quirrel began, though he spoke like the words were being dragged from him.

            Ghost sat back to listen. If talking about it was that much trouble, they’d give him their undivided attention.

            “And now it’s as if that same force is keeping me from the rest of the city. I don’t understand why. My mind tells me there are great discoveries and mysteries to be found, but some other sense tells me that there is nothing but tragedy below this room. I believe it to be true, of course, but that hasn’t stopped me before.”

            He went silent again, looking like his mind was a million miles away again.

            Ghost took moment to let his words sink in. In a way, they were both surprised and not surprised at the admission. Though it fell long ago, Hallownest was alive with invisible power. Echoes of the long-dead civilization still rang through the abandoned caverns, and Ghost knew that Quirrel felt it just as plainly as they did. If he felt that strongly about the city, then it meant something, and whatever it meant, it was important.

            And Ghost would see him through it even if it killed them. He was their friend, and they cared about him, but more than that, they knew how it felt to be alone and confused, blindly chasing after the possibility of getting an answer and then finding smoke. They might not be close to figuring things out for themself, but maybe they could at least help Quirrel.

            “Thank you for trying,” he said when they jumped off the bench, but they shook their head and then gestured for him to follow. Ghost had no intention of leaving the room alone.

            Quirrel looked confused, so they returned to the bench. They had no way of explaining that his words hit a bit too close to home for them to ignore, so they patted his hand and hoped he at least understood they were there for him.

            “You want me to go with you?”

            Ghost nodded and returned to the elevator.

            “That’s kind, but haven’t you already been down? Don’t backtrack so far on my behalf.”

            There might have been a way to explain that they didn’t mind backtracking, but it was easier to tap the elevator with their nail.

            “I will be just fine on my own. You don’t have to worry –”

            Their nail struck harder, the sound of clashing metal echoing through the room. If Quirrel was fine pestering them into having their nail fixed, they could (gently) bully him into taking a walk with them.

            “Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me,” Quirrel said after only a few moments of the sound, and Ghost let out a breath of relief. They weren’t sure how they’d escalate from there. “I’ll go with you through the city. Happy?”

            Happy was a strong word, but Ghost was glad he relented without a fight.

            Still, they nodded, feet shuffling as they waited for him to collect his nail and then catch up. They wanted to hurry up and get him in the elevator before he changed his mind.

            “I’m surprised you trusted the elevators to still work,” Quirrel commented as Ghost restrained themself from pushing him into the rusty metal structure. “I wasn’t certain they still functioned, so I found a way around.”

            Ghost shrugged, more concerned with him getting into the elevator than anything else. A way around? He’d have to show them sometime.

            Later, though. For the moment, they struck the lever with their nail (Quirrel winced at the sound), and the carriage creaked into motion.

            The city was just as beautiful as the first time they saw it. Lumifly lanterns made the streets glow, highlighting the rain as it fell. The buildings rose up into the darkness, so high that the upper levels were lost to the shadows of the cavern. Everywhere was the sound of moving water, blocking out the dead silence of the rest of the kingdom.

            Behind them, Quirrel went tense. When Ghost glanced over, he was gripping the hilt of his nail so tightly, they almost expected the metal to bend. He barely seemed to be breathing as he stared out at the city in the same way Ghost had stared at Deepnest.

            Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe they shouldn’t have pushed so hard. Was it too late to tell him they didn’t mind if he turned back?

            The elevator hit the ground and Ghost leaped out immediately, scanning the area for husks. The road was still clear from when they’d come down earlier, but they wanted to make sure. Quirrel didn’t need to deal with husk guards on top of whatever else was going on in his head.

            As the two headed deeper into the city, Ghost took care to run on ahead. Given he seemed to be used to traveling alone, they weren’t sure if Quirrel would want them close or not. They also wanted to cut down any husks or vengeflies or guards that might cross their path, keeping them as far as possible from the bug that wandered down the street as if he were sleepwalking.

            When Ghost paused to stab a vengefly that had gotten too close for comfort, they realized just how out of it Quirrel was. He didn’t even notice the scene, only looking at Ghost when he stumbled into them.

            “Sorry,” he gasped, fumbling back a step. “I’m afraid my mind is elsewhere.” He made an attempt at sounding casual, but he was shaking.

            Did he want to go back? Hopefully, he’d say so if that was the case. They would be more than willing to take him back, at that point.

            Once startled out of whatever nightmare he’d been living a moment ago, Quirrel seemed a bit more present, waiting for Ghost to keep going.

            They reluctantly did so, walking closer than they had before. They would wait until he told them he wanted to leave, but if something like that happened again, they’d get him back to the elevator even if they had to drag him into it.

            “Have you already been this way?” Quirrel asked, though he didn’t sound like he really cared to know.

            That was fine. Ghost nodded in confirmation and waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. They had, but they didn’t mind wandering that way again.

            “The city is huge. You couldn’t possibly have seen it all.”

            Ghost barely heard him over the sound of the rain. They weren’t sure how to respond, so they just waved their hand again.

            At least he was talking? That was a good sign, right? He sounded just a bit calmer too, which Ghost hoped meant that they hadn’t just accidentally traumatized him.

            Quirrel kept up well enough as the two continued to walk. He went quiet again, and Ghost found themself glancing back to make sure he was still there. Even when they passed beneath a covered area, the rain blocked the sound of his footsteps.

            Maybe Ghost should call it off themself. They’d been the one to invite him, so maybe he was waiting for them to turn back?

            They were about to test the theory when a handful of husks wandered into the alley.

            Alarmed, Ghost dashed forward as quick as they could, nail slicing the closest husk apart before it could become an even bigger problem.

            Even as that one fell, another was there to take its place, near tripping over the other’s cracked shell.

            Before Ghost could deal with it in a similar manner to the first, Quirrel rushed past them, moving so fast that they barely saw the gleam of his nail before the husk was dead at his feet.

            Well! That certainly answered Ghost’s ongoing question as to whether he could fight. Not that they really doubted but…

            The kill (they couldn’t exactly call it a fight) seemed to make him feel better for a moment, but then he was staring at the husk’s broken shell as if it were about to explode.

            Ghost took a chance and tapped his arm, hoping to bring him back before someone got hurt.

            Quirrel turned to them and said, “Given how many must have lived here, I’m surprised there aren’t more of these reanimated husks.” It was the most present he looked since leaving the room with the bench, and Ghost wasn’t sure what to make of it.

            He was right, of course. If the city’s entire population remained, they would never have attempted to brave the streets. Would it even be possible?

            The thought was not exactly comforting.

            Further down the road, more husks wandered into their path, but Ghost was less panicked about Quirrel being attacked. His instincts were as good as his skill, and he was fast enough that Ghost could hardly see him at times, husks falling to his blade so quickly it often didn’t look like he’d moved at all.

            In the back of their mind, they couldn’t help but think of how grateful they were that he was a friend and not an enemy.

            That being said, Ghost still ran ahead when husk guards began appearing. Better safe than sorry.

            And as it turned out, it was a good thing they reached the armored husks first.

            Even with an upgraded nail, it wasn’t easy, maneuvering around their quick attacks and slicing through hardened shells. The fight took longer than the encounters with the regular husks, but they managed to get out of it with only a bit of damage done to themself. They were learning.

            Ghost took a moment to focus and heal. When the soul they consumed faded, they could still hear the clang of metal.

            Quirrel was still fighting, but not in the way he had before. He looked half asleep, fixated on something both in front of him and a million miles away. Either way, he was hardly paying attention to the guard before him but managed to block its every strike anyway.

            Should Ghost intervene? They had no idea what was going on, but they didn’t like it. They stepped closer but waited to do anything drastic.

            The duel continued in a strangely rehearsed way, less like one was anticipating the other’s movements and more like they both already knew.

            Ghost didn’t recall how they learned how to use a nail (they had a feeling it was a mix of determination and trial and error), but they imagined the scene almost looked like one was teaching the other, practicing a rehearsed bout before fighting for real.

            That is, until Quirrel broke pattern and nearly got his head cut off for it.

            The guard was cut down by Ghost’s nail before they could really process moving. It took two swipes, one to knock it sideways and another to drive into its shell so deeply they felt the blade hit the rock beneath.

            “Ah, thank you, friend,” Quirrel said, sounding both like he’d woken from a nightmare and as if he’d been drowning. Still, they could hear him attempt to maintain some form of composure when he added, “My thoughts are further away than I’d realized.”

            No kidding.

            By then, the two were closer to the courtyard than the elevator, so Ghost tried to herd him in that direction. There had only ever been one threat there, and hopefully, she was long gone.

            Even so, as the two stepped back into the rain, Ghost found themself keeping close to Quirrel and searching the upper terraces for any sign of red. Hornet didn’t seem to stay in one place for long, but they didn’t trust her not to change her mind about fighting them there.

            The rain washed the orange from Ghost’s nail and cloak, and though they didn’t think the infection was spread that way, the thought was comforting. The husks remained distant and there was no trace of Hornet. All were good signs and helped ease some of the anxiety from their chest.

            Even Quirrel looked better. He seemed more confused and thoughtful rather than half asleep, which was certainly an improvement.

            The fountain they’d seen earlier caught Ghost’s attention, and before they realized it, they were standing before it again, staring up at the Hollow Knight.

            It was no coincidence that Hornet met them at the monument rather than anywhere else. She might not have even acknowledged it while speaking to them, but they knew it meant something. At the time, they’d been so distracted, they didn’t take the time to look at the fountain properly. Maybe that was a good thing. Looking at it made them feel like a nail was being driven through their chest.

            They’d heard them, the Hollow Knight. Ghost had heard their scream, their pain. At the time, they had no idea what it meant, and they still didn’t understand entirely; the memorial didn’t offer many solid answers, but it did begin to paint a very dark picture for the being depicted in stone. But they knew it was them. The Hollow Knight had cried out, and Ghost heard.

            Hornet gave them the markers and showed them where the seal-bearers were. Did she expect them to guard the seals? Or break them?

            “Memorial to the Hollow Knight,” Quirrel said, making Ghost jump. “In the Black Vault above. Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal.”

            Ghost felt something in their stomach sink even lower.

            Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal.

            They’d been there since before the kingdom fell. How long ago was that? How long had the Hollow Knight been bound and sealed, cursed to… to what? Why did Hallownest demand such sacrifice?

            And they still lived. Ghost had no proof or reason to explain why they knew it, but the Hollow Knight, the being that summoned them to the kingdom, was alive. Still alive, still bound, and waiting.

            “Do you know…?” Quirrel began, but then let his voice trail off. It didn’t matter how he intended to finish the question; the answer would be the same.

            He too stared up at the stone knight as if the fountain could offer some kind of answer. It was the calmest he’d been since stepping into the elevator, though he still had a haunted look about him.

            It was understandable. As they stood there with him, staring up at a being sacrificed to the kingdom and surrounded by evidence of their failure, Ghost thought they understood how he’d felt before. The city was filled with darkness, with death, with blood. The gates had been shut, no one allowed in or out. The Hollow Knight had been sacrificed, just for the city to die a slow and painful death, and the echoes of that torment were suddenly more audible than the rain.

            When Ghost reached out and blindly gripped Quirrel’s wrist, they didn’t know if it was more to comfort him or themself. The two were alive, standing surrounded by the dead and their phantoms. They might just be two bugs against the sea of Hallownest’s sins, but they had each other.

            As it always did, time moved in a way that couldn’t be defined. Maybe the two stood there for only a few minutes. Maybe it was hours. Ghost had no idea and they had a feeling Quirrel didn’t either.

            There was just the time they first stepped foot into the courtyard and then Quirrel’s quiet utterance of “I wouldn’t advise us standing here out in the open for too long.” Everything between could have spanned a heartbeat or a day.

            Ghost flinched at the sudden break in the silence. It must have been their turn to be so deep in thought they hardly saw what was in front of them. As they let their hand drop from Quirrel’s, the world came back into focus. The rain ran cold across their mask and had soaked straight through their cloak. Not that they truly minded the cold, but Ghost found themself shivering.

            “Would you like to accompany me back to the bench?” Quirrel asked. He sounded exhausted, and they felt the same.

            They nodded, hoping to whatever god might be listening that the two could get there without some other kind of tragedy.

            Seeming much more sound than before, Quirrel led the way back to the alley they’d passed through.

            Ghost took one last look at the Hollow Knight before following him out of the courtyard.

Chapter Text

            Ghost had found the hot spring in Deepnest early on and used the place as a sort of base of operations. The first thing they did was figure out how each route could circle back to the hot spring, or the quickest route there from wherever they might wind up. It got so extensive, that they could be just about anywhere in Deepnest and find a way to crawl back to the soul-filled water.

            This wound up being a very important thing.

            Because Deepnest was awful.

            Sure, everything else in Hallownest had tried to kill them at some point, but Ghost was pretty sure that Deepnest itself was out to get them. They’d stumbled into more spike pits than they even wanted to think about, and where the caverns weren’t filled with thundering garpedes, the floor was alive with infected larvae. They’d been set back by the terrain nearly as often as the creatures that stalked through the narrow tunnels.

            Speaking of which, dirtcarvers and carver hatchers were the absolute worst.

            Ghost was poking around the Failed Tramway when they first heard the buzzing. On their way in, they’d slain a carver hatcher so fast, it didn’t really register how dangerous they could be.

            It became incredibly obvious when the carver hatcher flooded the tram car with dirtcarvers.

            They tried to fight the horde for all of three seconds but were quickly becoming overwhelmed by the sheer number of biting pincers and scratching claws. They jumped out one of the tram windows before they could be completely buried.

            Outside wasn’t much better, though. The other carver hatchers were drawn to the noise, and as Ghost dashed through this most recent disaster, even more dirtcarvers dropped to the ground around them.

            Soul was spent on spells instead of healing, which Ghost immediately regretted when they found themself bleeding void and had no way to heal. They could attack and try for more soul, but they didn’t dare when their health was so low. Getting there the first time had been a nightmare. They didn’t want to try when they had no shade and limited soul.

            That in mind, they fled as fast as they could.

            The swarm’s angry hissing and clicking were all Ghost could hear as they stumbled back into the narrower tunnels. They could outrun the dirtcarvers, but the little beasts were, surprisingly, good at carving through dirt. If Ghost ran around to reach a lower cavern, they would just tunnel through the ceiling and drop onto their head.

            More void leaked from some unidentified wound beneath Ghost’s cloak, and they were beginning to feel the effects. They couldn’t exactly bleed out, and the injuries didn’t hinder their movement as much as they might a normal bug, but they’d still pay for it one way or another.

            They’d never make it to the lower levels. If the dirtcarvers didn’t catch them, the deep hunters and stalking devout would, and their luck was never good enough to avoid both.

            Unable to check their map and confirm, Ghost kept running, trying their best to remember which tunnel would lead them to the gap that dropped down into the hot spring.

            They were close to the edge of the dirtcarver’s territory when something shot a wad of infection at them. They must have passed a deepling. Unlike some of the other bugs in Deepnest, deeplings didn’t seem to have any set territory. They just cropped up randomly, ready to shoot Ghost down the second they saw them.

            Ghost managed to dodge the infection, but their wild dash through the shadows sent them stumbling into one of the smaller spike pits.

            In their experience, Ghost experienced pain differently than other bugs. Mostly in that they only felt true pain the moment damage was done. They were pretty sure that was the only reason they were able to move after falling into a pit of stone spikes.

            Even so, they felt the damage. After the initial pain, tere came a feeling like being cracked and fractured, fragile in a way that any wrong move would shatter them to pieces. Any remaining energy was spent on keeping their shade from bursting from their shell.

            Once out of the spike pit, Ghost took a moment to look around. They knew where they were. These particular spike pits ran in a very small section of Deepnest that didn’t tend to have anything else in it. The drop into the hot spring was close by, they just had to get to it.

            Easier said than done when they could barely stay upright.

            Their nail served well as a crutch as they limped forward. They couldn’t help but think the nailsmith would disapprove of their resourcefulness but whatever. They nearly had enough pale ore for another upgrade anyway.

            The hot spring’s glow was finally in view.

            Ghost had found the shortcut on accident, earlier in their trip through Deepnest. It scared them half to death when they stumbled through, but now it made for a convenient escape.

            No longer having the strength for coordination, Ghost got as close to the gap as they could and then let gravity take over.

            Dropping into water, even soul-filled hot spring water, from that height felt very much like being dropped onto stone, which was probably why everything went very dark right after splashing down into the shallow pool.

            Even when barely conscious, they could feel the surrounding soul work to repair what had been damaged, so they tried to rouse themself enough to complain when they were promptly taken out of the water.

            “I’m here, I have you,” a voice was saying. “You’re going to be alright.”

            Ghost found it incredibly hard to focus, but they realized another bug had them. Their first instinct said they were about get killed (how would that work if they were in the hot spring to begin with??), but as they struggled to regain enough mobility to escape, they looked up to see Quirrel anxiously looking down at them.

            Oh. In that case, they were probably safer than they’d ever been.

            Except for the fact that he seemed to be debating where to take them, and it didn’t look like the water was his first choice.

            Ghost patted his arm in an attempt to get his attention. When they had it, they offered a weak wave. They were very glad he found them. He was warm.

            They were losing focus again, and it wouldn’t get better any time soon if they didn’t have soul to heal with (and even then, it would probably take a while).

            They pointed downward and hoped they were still above water. They couldn’t twist around and check.

            “Right, of course.”

            Except, he didn’t just put them back. Really, Quirrel could’ve just dropped them in the water and been done with it, it’s not like they could drown. If he hadn’t shown up, they’d probably have just floated with their face submerged until they had enough awareness to flip over.

            But then, of course he didn’t just drop them. He’s Quirrel.

            Energy spent, the world went in and out of focus for a bit. Ghost was back in the water, but not all the way, chin propped up just above the surface.

            Soul began flowing again, and they could feel their shell slowly beginning to repair.

            Just a bit more aware of what was happening, Ghost reached out. Their hand found Quirrel’s and when he flinched, they realized they were covered in void. It was a bit hard to tell since it was just black on black.

            They caught a glimpse of the water, void warring with soul. They didn’t know which was winning.

            “Of all the times you’ve startled me, I think this instance wins out,” Quirrel said, voice shakier than they’d ever heard it before. “In the future, let’s not try to top it.”

            A fair request. Ghost tried patting him again. They were glad he was there, and they hoped he knew. They’d figure out a way to properly thank him later.

            “Is there anything else I can do for you? I’m afraid I don’t make a good healer even on the best of days, and the way your wounds work is entirely unknown to me. Is there anything else to help you aside from the water?”

            Ghost carefully shook their head. There wasn’t, but they thought it was nice that he asked.

            Still disoriented from, well, everything, it took a bit for Ghost to realize just how close Quirrel was. He was holding them, arms supporting their weight so they didn’t fall further into the water. He kept their head on his shoulder so they didn’t drown.

            Did he know it didn’t really matter? Ghost wasn’t sure. They didn’t know how to explain, but they also really didn’t want to. If he knew, he might stop holding them, and they didn’t want to let go just yet.

            Actually, had they ever been held before?

            The question felt the same as Quirrel’s earlier observation that they weren’t used to kindness, and the answer was the same.

            But being held was nice. There was a warmth there that was separate from that of the hot spring, and Ghost felt… safe? It was a lot to take in, and while they didn’t have the focus to properly sort through their thoughts, they also didn’t yet have the will to stop thinking about it.

            They patted Quirrel again and pointed. Since he was already doing so much, maybe he wouldn’t mind filling the silence a bit.

            “I don’t know what to tell you,” Quirrel said, and he sounded far too apologetic. “The manner of your arrival still has me somewhat distracted.”

            Ghost tried to shrug but found themself just pressing closer.

            “A village lies deep within Deepnest,” he said after a pause. “To see it is why I braved the journey down here, and it is where I intended to go after resting here for a time.”

            In their mind’s eye, Ghost saw the map marker for Herrah the Beast. All they’d known so far was that she was down in Deepnest. It made sense that she might be in a village.

            Maybe Quirrel would go with them? Deepnest remained to be terrifying, and they had no idea what to expect from the Dreamer.

            “…I was hoping you might have a suggestion or two,” Quirrel was saying, and Ghost realized they hadn’t heard the first part of the question. “However, I’m open to my plans changing should you need help beyond this… I find that I’ve grown quite fond of you. My purpose can wait until you’ve recovered.”

            His purpose? Maybe Ghost was less coherent than they’d thought, but was he saying he would delay his search for answers… for them? Their throat felt tight and their chest hurt, filled with too many feelings and left without enough energy or will to deal with them.

            Ghost patted him again. They didn’t have the words to express their gratitude, but they hoped he at least knew they were listening.

            They either fell asleep or passed out right after.

            An untold amount of time later, they didn’t so much wake up as they drifted close enough to consciousness to realize another bug was far too close to them. Their body moved on instinct, jumping up and dashing away before they were aware enough to stop.

            Soul and shadow erupted around them at the motion, the contrast blinding when Ghost’s vision finally came into focus. Their nail was in their hand, though they didn’t recall drawing it.

            A frantic glance around the cavern told them there was no danger. So why…?

            “Er, glad to see you’re feeling better.”

            Quirrel was sitting at the other side of the hot spring, watching with concern.

            Oh, right.

            No longer running on instinct, Ghost relaxed, the hand holding their nail falling to their side. They weren’t being attacked and they weren’t in danger, they were with Quirrel.

            Ghost put their nail away and sank deeper into the water. The heat helped ease the icy panic away as they drifted over to the rocks.

            “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Quirrel said when they were closer. “I was afraid you’d drown if I didn’t hold your head up.”

            They could remember. They remembered that very well, in fact. The warm feeling that spread across their mask had nothing to do with the hot spring. They reached the edge and rested there for a moment. The water reached their chest when standing and would go well over their head if they tried to sit or kneel.

            “You were in a very bad state when you dropped in from above. Do you recall that, or what happened before?”

            Ghost gave a reluctant nod, wondering if he was referring to anything specific.

            The rocks were warm and smooth when Ghost managed to haul themself up onto the edge. Despite sleeping for, well, however long they were out, they still felt exhausted. Their injuries had been bad, and they’d waited too long to heal. It would take a bit more than a dip in the hot spring and a nap on the bench to be back at 100%.

            “How are you feeling? You look better now, but your injuries had seemed quite extensive… you bled a lot of void.”

            There was fear in his voice. They’d scared him?

            Ghost could recall seeing a lot of void in the water. It had been enough to concern them as well despite knowing they wouldn’t bleed out.

            They carefully got to their feet and opened their cloak. As expected, there wasn’t a single trace of damage. The display was more so Quirrel could stop worrying, but Ghost found the sight of their own unmarked shell comforting. It was nice to know they could still survive things like that.

            “Ghost,” Quirrel said, his voice taking an odd tone. He was looking at them strangely, carefully. “That mark you have…”

            Oh.

            After leaving Kingdom’s Edge, Ghost had decided not to show him the symbol burned into their shell, but they supposed it didn’t matter anymore. They turned, moving their cloak aside so he could see.

            “The King’s Brand,” he said quietly, voice a mix of awe and apprehension.

            It didn’t surprise Ghost that he recognized it, but it did pose a possible problem they’d wanted to avoid entirely. If he knew the mark’s name, he probably knew its purpose.

            “How did you… why…?”

            Ghost didn’t know how to explain all they’d learned. They let their cloak fall and sat back down on the rocks. It was hard to watch as Quirrel puzzled through whatever the symbol meant or was supposed to mean.

            Hornet had finally given them something resembling an answer to their purpose within Hallownest. They were already in the process of delving into the kingdom’s history, but with the King’s Brand, they accepted responsibility for its future as well.

            Perhaps it was silly, but they hadn’t wanted Quirrel to know. They wanted him to continue to see them as a fellow wanderer searching for answers regarding whatever unknown purpose had brought them to Hallownest, not as some kind of king. Not that Ghost made much of a king anyway.

              “Whatever significance it held initially, with the king long gone and the kingdom a phantom of its former self, I suppose the symbol now means whatever you wish it to mean,” Quirrel said after a pause. “I don’t presume myself entitled to that meaning.”

            As curious as he was, Ghost imagined it was a struggle, letting go of such a mystery, but they were grateful that he did.

            “However,” he added. “Should you ever feel like sharing, I’m always willing to listen. Well, I suppose not ‘listen’, but you understand my meaning. For now, I’m just glad to see you recovering.”

            Minor crisis averted, Ghost let themself relax a bit. They scooted closer to the edge of the rocks and let their feet splash into the water. Maybe one day, they’d get the chance to sit down and fully explain everything they’d learned so far.

            They didn’t know how to explain the story behind the King’d Brand yet, but they could tell him of some of their travels.

            The Hunter’s Journal was a bit bent and stained, pages crumpled from hasty use between battles. Given how everything was organized and how many times Ghost had added to it, they found the page they wanted almost immediately and held it up for Quirrel to see.

            “Carver hatchers and dirtcarvers. Did they have something to do with what happened to you?”

            There was recognition in his voice, so Ghost didn’t feel the need to elaborate further. They nodded and slammed the journal shut on the page. Even just seeing the pictures made them shudder.

               “I haven’t had the misfortune of running into any carver hatchers yet, but I recall being mobbed by packs of dirtcarvers on the way down.” Quirrel added.

            The thought of Quirrel facing the sea of dirtcarvers drifted through Ghost’s mind and they forced it away. He wasn’t the one recovering from getting swarmed. He was fine.

            Irritated, they kicked at the water. The motion tugged at their newly healed shell a bit too hard and they winced at the feeling. They’d left the water too soon.

              “Perhaps give yourself a bit more time to heal. Just because you’re no longer bleeding doesn’t mean you’ve fully recovered.”

            Well, since he said that, they had to kick the water again.

            That concerned look was back and Ghost held up their hands, surrendering to the idea of resting. They tried leaning back a bit, but their nail dragged against the stone. The blade had already been stabbed into the rocky earth, and they didn’t want to push the metal’s integrity. Ghost tugged it away with the intent to set it beside them, but then remembered there was something else they could show Quirrel.

            “I noticed that the blade looks even more refined than before,” he said. “I presume you returned to the nailsmith?”

            Not just once, in fact. Ghost held up two fingers.

            “Twice? “I’m sure he appreciated that. I can’t imagine he gets much business down in the City of Tears these days.”

            A fair assumption.

            Unsure what else they could show him without slogging through the language barrier, Ghost set their nail aside and reached within their cloak, searhing for things they could show off. They wound up with their new charms, the tram pass they’d found while exploring, and a few random relics they were keeping to sell to Lemm.

            All the while, Quirrel watched them with a fondness that Ghost found hard to look at directly. They had a feeling he barely understood half of what they were explaining, but then again, they didn’t exactly know what they were trying to tell him anyhow. Perhaps neither knew what was going on, but it didn’t really matter. The intent of communication was there, and for the moment, it was enough.

            Having exhausted their supply of new things to show, Ghost returned the assorted Hallownest seals to their bag. They thought to get back into the water but then remembered they had one more thing to show Quirrel.

            How could they have forgotten??

            The Abyss flashed in their mind as they gripped their cloak and held it out. The memory of what they’d found was still raw, but they wanted to know what Quirrel made of the new ability.

            He didn’t look like he understood what they were pointing to, and they recalled the change wasn’t visible on the cloth. They’d have to demonstrate. Ghost stood and took a few steps back.

            “Perhaps wait –”

            Before he could finish, they jumped and shadow-dashed across the hot spring. Soul-filled water splashed into the air in their wake, the light swallowed by the void when it got too close. They landed with a splash.

            “That ability certainly is… unique. Quirrel sounded both tired and exasperated. He sounded even more-so when Ghost’s legs suddenly refused to hold their weight and they fell face-first into the water. “I tried to tell you to wait!”

            Yes, and they probably should have listened. The movement had completely consumed their remaining energy, and they were tempted to just go back to sleep like that.

            But then Quirrel was rescuing them again.

             “I believe I’ve mentioned before that you’re incredibly stubborn,” he sighed, picking them up.

            Ghost nodded. He’s known that for a while, though, they thought he should be used to it.

            Quirrel returned to the edge of the hot spring, keeping Ghost close as he did before. “How about resting some more before you go back to jumping around,” he suggested. “Would you like me to return you to the rocks? Or there’s a bench just around the corner. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you don’t have the strength to keep yourself upright.”

            They should probably tell him that it didn’t matter, that however vessels work, breathing was more an optional thing than a necessity. Keeping their head above water was the least of their concerns.

            But they were tired, and he was holding them again. Everything was warm and quiet and for a moment, they could pretend they were actually safe. They could pretend that they didn’t have a mark crowning them as king on their back, or were on the way to kill the first of three Dreamers, or had to figure out what to do about their broken sibling still trapped within the black egg.

            Ghost waved and let Quirrel decide what it meant.

            “Or, if you don’t mind me holding you, you can remain here and rest. I’ll make sure your head doesn’t go under.”

            They didn’t mind, they didn’t mind. It might be a bit underhanded given he didn’t know he didn’t need to, but they wanted him to keep holding them, keep them close, let them keep pretending.

            After all, they knew what they had to do. It might be the last chance they got.

            It occurred to them that Quirrel was still waiting on an answer.

            Too tired to try anything more coordinated, Ghost waved one hand again and wound up smacking him in the face. Oops.

            “That’s not resting.” He gently grasped their hand before they could do it again.

            They waved again. Just because it was Quirrel didn’t mean their first instinct wasn’t to do the opposite of what they were told to.

            No wonder they were considered impure.

            Though it wasn’t really an answer (both Ghost’s and Quirrel’s) neither seemed unhappy with the situation. Ghost tucked their hands against their chest and curled up closer and Quirrel let them, only adjusting his hold so he could keep them from slipping back into the water.

            All was still and quiet.

            However, even as Ghost tried to enjoy the moment and go back to sleep, they couldn’t help but think of what came next.

            The path before them was finally clear. They didn’t understand it all, but they knew what to do and that they needed to do it.

            Where would Quirrel fit into it all?

            Ghost wasn’t naïve enough to think they were truly saving anything. Honestly, they’d be surprised if they could even grant the kingdom (and their sibling) a quick and painless end.

            They didn’t want Quirrel caught in the crossfire, but they already knew he would be. His mysterious purpose aside, his habit of being wherever Ghost was made him involved just by proximity.

            And even if all that was ignored, his kindness and curiosity meant it would be impossible to keep him away from whatever great event (miracle or tragedy) was going to strike Hallownest.

            Ghost couldn’t protect him. They could hardly protect themself; their current position was a testament to that. The only reason they’d gotten that far was because they could come back from being broken and were to stubborn to do otherwise.

            What could they do?

            For the moment, nothing. Exhaustion was beginning to take over, clearing their mind of all but how warm and tired they were. They would sleep and heal. When they woke, they would come up with something.

            Quirrel was going to stay safe.

Chapter Text

            When Ghost saw Quirrel standing before the window at the top of Crystal Peak, they didn’t intend to speak to him. They were going to just keep walking, sneak past while he wasn’t looking. There was nothing useful in the spacious cavern and there was no need to stop.

They had to keep up the momentum they had before they lost the will to finish what they’d started. With two out of three Dreamers dead, it was far too late to turn back.

            But their legs refused to move. They finally found him again.

            Deepnest felt like a lifetime ago, maybe two, and so much had happened since then. It felt like things haven’t stopped happening since then.

In fact, things were still happening. The trip through Crystal Peak was just a detour, a moment’s respite from their main goals. It was a worthy trip, the crystal heart would be invaluable, but they needed to keep going. Things were only getting worse and they had to end it, to see their mission through.

            Both Hallownest and the Hollow Knight were counting on them.

            There was only one Dreamer left.

            “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Quirrel said without turning.

            For the briefest of moments, Ghost considered just walking away. He didn’t see them. They could just slip back out into the hall. They didn’t need to talk to him, and he didn’t need to get caught up in their disaster of a purpose any more than he already had.

            But really, they couldn’t deny him. He was Quirrel.

            Ghost hopped onto the metal structure by the window and slowly made their way over. They told themself they wouldn’t stay long and pretended to believe it.

            The window’s glass was thick and smudged. It overlooked both Dirtmouth and the cliffs beyond. Both seemed so small.

            “You look tired, friend,” Quirrel said softly.

            The image before them blurred a bit. They were tired, but the heaviness they felt had little to do with physical exhaustion. There was just… so much. Hurt, fear, pain, hopelessness. Just so much. Too much.

            The silence dragged on.

             “I passed through Dirtmouth again, on my way here,” Quirrel said after a while, and Ghost was grateful for the distraction. “I’m not sure if we can quite call it a ‘fading’ town anymore. Truly, there are more bugs now than there had been when I first arrived in Hallownest!”

            They nodded. Despite everything, the knowledge made them feel warm. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

            “Many seemed to know your face when I asked if anyone knew your whereabouts,” he added.

            That too made them feel warm. Quirrel had been looking for them?

            Ghost looked up, finally turning to face him. They’d missed him. Seeing him alive and in good health made everything feel a little less terrible.

            “Well, seeing as I hadn’t seen you in a while, I’d wondered if anyone else had,” Quirrel explained. He almost sounded guilty, trying to justify the action. “Also, the last time I saw you, you were running into Deepnest despite still recovering from being mauled by dirtcarvers.”

            Ghost held up their hands. They could admit it hadn’t been their best move. Still, it happened so long ago that they’d healed, gotten hurt all over again, and then healed from that. To express this, they gestured vaguely at themself, at how they weren’t currently hurt.

            Quirrel seemed eager to change the subject. “Anyhow, my point is that, as far as I’ve heard, half the population of Dirtmouth wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

            Half.

            They knew the observation was made with the intent to cheer them up, but… only half. What about the other half, the ones they couldn’t save? Myla was mindlessly wandering the caverns, her eyes overflowing with orange, and they’d seen Tiso’s broken shell in Kingdom’s Edge, discarded like all the other unlucky fools.

            And what about the others? Cornifer was still in Hallownest, mapping its various lands. His expertise had saved Ghost more than once, but could they protect him? More often than not, they had no idea where he was.

            Cloth still roamed, looking for the ultimate battle, and Ghost was terrified of what would happen when she found it (and they knew she would eventually).

            Hornet? She was more than capable of protecting herself, but they suspected she believed her fate tied to the kingdom’s, and she would live or die as Hallownest did.

            And what about the ones they barely knew by name? The old stag, Elderbug, all the grubs and their father, the nailsmith, the three nailmaster brothers, and so many more? How many would be gone before the end?

            What about Quirrel?

            “The climb through Crystal Peak was not easy.” His voice cut through their thoughts, stopping them before they could work themself into a true panic. “Though pickaxes were not designed with combat in mind, they manage to make decent weapons when in the hands of the infected. And the miners aside, the old conveyers and supporting systems can be lethal on their own.”

            It was true, and Ghost found themself hanging on his every word, trying not to think of anything else.

            “Of course,” he added. “It does not surprise me that you still managed to find me here.”

            They hadn’t meant to, but finding Quirrel again didn’t surprise Ghost either. They always managed to find him, or he them. Normally, the thought would be comforting. As they stood and stared down at little Dirtmouth, the idea made their chest tight and it became hard to breathe. They didn’t know what came next, but they didn’t want him anywhere near it, and thus, near them.

            In need of another distraction, Ghost drew their map from the folds of their cloak and tossed the mess of folded parchment onto the ground before them. Part unfolded the way it was supposed to, but the rest sat in a sad-looking pile. They kicked at it until it lay flat.

            The map had expanded as their travels did. Aside from a few places in the west, most of Hallownest lay before them.

            “You’ve traveled far,” Quirrel said thoughtfully. If he was looking for a deeper meaning to the act, he would be disappointed. Now that the map was on the ground, Ghost wasn’t sure what they were trying to accomplish with it. “I’ll admit, I’m a touch jealous. You’ve seen places I haven’t even heard of.”

            Ghost very much doubted his jealousy, but the thought was amusing. Was exploring Hallownest a competition? If so, they were winning.

            The joy was short-lived. Thoughts of their travels and the map had their mind wandering to the places they still hadn’t gone to yet, the places they still needed to go.

            One more. Just one more marker left to remove, one more seal to break.

            “Would you care to sit and rest? This room is quite safe, and you certainly look like you need a respite.”

            There were no words for how badly Ghost wanted to, but they were afraid if they sat down, they wouldn’t get up again. They certainly wouldn’t want to, especially not if he was there.

            “Would you like to tell me of your travels?”

            Tell him? What could they say? What could they try to say? So much had happened and so much was connected that they wouldn’t know where to begin even if they could speak! They still owed him an explanation for the King’s Brand, but that led into talk of Hornet, which would bring them to what took place in Deepnest, and wyrm, how much it had hurt to learn her history, and, and, and…

            There was a very efficient way to tell Quirrel of their travels, and he would want to brace himself.

            Ghost took a few steps back. They gestured at their head, trying to get him to do whatever he needed to in order to block sound (did bugs have ears? They used the gesture anyway).

            When he did, Ghost showed him the new spell they’d learned.

            The vessel themself couldn’t make noise, and the spell didn’t allow them to, but it was as close as they could get. Howling wraiths, coupled with the voices of those forgotten in the abyss burst upward in a rush of energy. The sound reverberated throughout the cavern and echoed down the halls and continued to do so long after the magic dissipated.

            It was funny: the action actually made Ghost feel a bit better. They were tempted to do it again.

            Then they realized that Quirrel was still clutching his head as if in pain.

            Oh, wyrm. Did they stand too close?

            Ghost returned to his side, gesturing at his head and trying not to panic. He didn’t respond at first, and Ghost waved a hand in front of his face. Was he alright? Please tell them their carelessness hadn’t actually hurt him.

            “You did warn me,” he said. He was trying for casual, but the tension in his voice gave him away. So did the way he winced as he let go of his head. “Is that your summary of your adventures since I last saw you?”

            It was, but that wasn’t important at the moment. Again, Ghost gestured to their head and then his.

            “I’m alright. You continue to catch me off guard, but no harm has been done.”

            He was downplaying things, they knew, but it did sound like he was recovering.

            Ghost wanted to explain, they felt they owed him that much (especially after that), but they had no idea how or even where to start.

            “I believe I’ve told you before that I’m always here to listen, should you wish to share your story,” Quirrel reminded them. He sounded better still, which helped ease some of the tension in Ghost’s chest. “I have nowhere else to be, and I have more time than anything else.”

            They wanted to! They really, really did, but they’d worked so hard to keep him away from everything that was happening, or at least not drag him in deeper.

            Speaking to him had been a mistake. They needed to leave.

            “You can tell me as much or as little as you wish,” Quirrel added when they didn’t respond. “Or, if you would rather not tell me anything at all, I’m happy to go back to telling you of my own travels. I did eventually find that village in Deepnest. It turned out to be a very intriguing place to explore.”

            They were sure it was. Did he visit before, or after they broke Herrah’s seal? Hopefully Hornet didn’t see him.

            Ghost tried again to make themself leave, but really, they’d known it was hopeless from the start. They were tired and hurt and afraid. They weren’t built to feel so much at once, and Quirrel meant safety, as temporary as it was.

            It was a relief, giving in and pushing aside their purpose for a bit. They nodded and then let themself all but collapse, finally able to rest after so much activity. They drew their knees to their chest and curled up as small as possible, just holding on for a moment.

            Quirrel sat beside them and the two fell back into a kinder variety of silence. Perhaps they could just stay like that for a while. He didn’t need to know of all that happened since Deepnest.

            Still, Ghost found themself reaching out to their map and pointing to the Kingdom’s Edge. They traced a slow line from the word to the cast-off shell.

            “I haven’t been that far east.”

            Good. The edge of the kingdom was a scary and depressing place. He didn’t need to go there.

            In order to explain Hornet’s involvement (or at least try to), Ghost brought out the Hunter’s Journal and flipped to her page. They showed her picture to Quirrel and did not like the recognition he gave the cloaked bug.

            Next was their siblings’ page. Hornet had said she wasn’t void, and the two were only half siblings, but it was the best they could do.

            They drew their nail without really thinking, setting it beside the map. The blade gleamed as if new, and they patted it appreciatively. It saw them through their fight with Hornet, as well as everything else they’d encountered at the edge.

            A gesture to their back concluded their attempt at explaining how they’d received the King’s Brand.

            Quirrel didn’t seem to fully understand, but he was listening.

            They moved on.

            Explaining what happened after they’d left him in Deepnest was harder for more reasons than one. Quirrel recognized the Distant Village when they pointed it out, but he had the same blank look he’d had back in the City of Tears when Ghost first tried to show him their map.

            Just as well. They didn’t know how to explain the rest. There were no words for how horrible it felt to kill a bug that didn’t even try to put up a fight. Learning that Herra was Hornet’s mother made everything worse.

            The look on her face as she spoke to them. The way her voice shook as she politely asked them to leave her to grieve. The knowledge that she’d been watching, had stood by without acting while Ghost killed her mother.

            The memory was beginning to make their vision cloud. A sharp pain burst through their chest and stayed there.

            Ghost moved on.

            They told Quirrel about the second Dreamer, and the entirely unfair battle that took place at the base of the watcher’s tower. The watcher knights’ loyalty to their purpose was admirable, but fighting all six had been a nightmare. The path from the nearest bench to the knights’ room was another that Ghost knew by heart.

            Now that their initial reservations had faded, Ghost felt like they had opened floodgates of their memory. They moved faster, needing to tell someone about all they’d witnessed, all they’d survived. Almost as if they could just explain everything, it might stop hurting so much.

            The abyss and the untold number of dead vessels within, their victory at the colosseum and how they later found Tiso, Myla’s fate and how they couldn’t stop it, the fight they’d had with a broken sibling possessed by infection, the nailmasters they’d learned from, the dawning realization that however their story ended, it wasn’t going to be a happy one.

            They ended with the Crossroads, pressing their hands over the entirety of the area. There was no need to say anything more than that.

            When they looked up to Quirrel, he looked as if he barely understood a small fraction of what they’d shown him but was trying to pretend otherwise.

            Ghost held up their hands helplessly. Though they wished they could truly tell him, it was probably for the best that he didn’t understand the details. Even if very little was understood, Ghost felt better for trying.

            “I think it’s safe to assume I was correct in thinking you’d been through a lot since we last met,” Quirrel said slowly. “I can see how such experiences would weigh so heavily upon you; it’s a lot for a single bug to carry.”

            Ghost held up their hands again. It was, but what could they do? It was the path given to them, and the role they chose to accept.

            Their report on their travels complete, they went back to looking out the window. Despite the howling winds, it seemed so peaceful out there, beyond the cliffs. It was just an endless expanse of nothing.

            The longer the two sat there, the more Ghost’s thoughts began to spiral, circling back to how much they’d done and what was left. The bugs they’d saved and the ones they didn’t. The Dreamers they’d killed, and what would happen after they broke the final seal.

            “I find the view to be quite humbling,” Quirrel said after a while. “It reminds me just how big the world is. I’ve been wandering for a long time, and I doubt I’ve seen even a fraction of what’s out there. I think it equal parts wonderous and disappointing that one can’t see everything in a single lifetime.”

            Maybe he understood more than Ghost realized.

            They shifted closer and leaned into his side. It still felt like everything was falling apart around them. They wanted to feel something that didn’t hurt, if just for a little while.

            Quirrel wrapped his arm around them, pulling them closer still. “We’re only mortal, my friend. Allow some forgiveness for imperfection and some hope for the future. The past will remain as it is.”

            Ghost felt like screaming again.

            It was easy, pretending that they didn’t know, that whatever was going to happen after the third seal broke was just part of the mystery, but denial only went so far. They’d already known their ending wouldn’t be a happy one. The fact was just easier to ignore when the end was so far away.

            Even then, they still didn’t understand everything, but they knew enough.

            The sorrow that weighed in their heart wasn’t new, but sitting there with Quirrel, it felt so much heavier. Would this be their last time they saw him, their last meeting? Ghost didn’t want it to be, but for his sake, they desperately hoped it was.

            They hoped he’d find his own reason for coming to Hallownest soon, and that he would leave straight after. He’d go back to traveling and finding other lands to explore. He’d get to see new wonders and solve new mysteries. He could leave Hallownest behind and be free from the phantoms of its past, Ghost included.

            Meanwhile, they would rescue their sibling from an eternity of fighting the infection. One way or another, the eternal kingdom might finally fall silent for good and its remaining citizens might have some peace.

            Despite everything, the idea gave them some hope.

            Sitting as close as they were, they felt it when Quirrel’s heartbeat sped up. He didn’t move or say anything, so they didn’t either, but they did wonder what was going through his head. Given how long Ghost spent, telling him about their travels, he hadn’t spoken much regarding his own. Maybe he already figured out his purpose in Hallownest?

            “Ghost?”

            They looked up curiously.

            “I’ve felt called to Hallownest for a long time,” Quirrel said slowly. It sounded like he didn’t know where he was going with that, but he pressed on. “Perhaps even before I knew just what I was searching for; I think I’m only just now realizing that this kingdom has been my goal all along.”

            He almost sounded nervous, though not in a way that made Ghost think of danger. Even more curious about what he was getting at, they pulled away and turned so they could better watch.

            “My point is that I am a traveler with no planned destination.” He tried again, but it sounded like that wasn’t it either. “There’s nowhere else I need to be, nor particularly want to be once I leave this place. Well, aside from doing whatever I was called here to do; I still haven’t actually gotten to the bottom of that. I’m referring to afterward.”

            Fascinated and now a bit apprehensive, Ghost reached out and patted his arm. He was embarrassed and they couldn’t imagine why.

            As amused and bewildered as they were, Ghost took pity on him and directed their attention to the map still spread before them. They didn’t want to leave, but it needed to be put away anyway. They folded it slowly, keeping their eyes on the parchment while Quirrel collected his thoughts.

            Being their next destination, the space where Fog Canyon’s map would be lay on top when they had the stack of parchment back to a more portable size. The final Dreamer’s mask marker gleamed even in the dark.

            Ghost felt like time itself screeched to a halt.

            How had they missed it? How did they not realize sooner? They’d seen him more than literally any other bug, how could they possibly have missed it until that moment?

            They were almost afraid to look up. No, not ‘almost’, they were flat out terrified.

            But they had to know.

            Almost as if being forced against their will, Ghost slowly looked to the bug beside them.

            Quirrel had the last Dreamer’s mask.

            Why? What did that mean? What were they supposed to do about it? They’d wanted to keep him out of things, damn it!

            The idea of some unseen force calling him to Hallownest made so much more sense, but he’d said he didn’t know the source or reason. Was he lying? But he’d seen the three masks before, and each time he either completely lost focus or forgot what had been happening the moment before.

            Did he really not know? Was something keeping him from finding out?

            With a sinking feeling, Ghost realized that made things so much worse.

            Quirrel was talking again, but the words sounded muffled and far away.

            All Ghost could think of were the six watcher knights that guarded Lurien, or the empty bugs who kidnapped them in the Distant Village. They thought of the watcher’s infected butler, still trying to serve a master that no longer existed. They thought of Hornet, sitting still and silent beside the space where her mother used to rest.

            If Quirrel didn’t know how he fit into things, then it could be anything. He had the teacher’s mask. Was he a student? A friend?

            The guard of her seal?

            The idea of him protecting the last seal kept rattling around their head, making it hard to breathe. Would they have to fight him? They couldn’t. His incredible speed and skill aside, they couldn’t hurt him. Wouldn’t. The idea of being forced to kill him had their mind going blank in self-defense.

            “I just thought I would ask,” he was saying, voice reflecting nearly as much panic as Ghost felt. “You certainly don’t have to accept my request if you don’t want to.”

            Request? They hadn’t even heard it, could barely hear what he was saying now. They needed to get away. They needed to understand what was happening. Oh gods, their chest felt like it was going to explode.

            Their body moved without thinking, collecting their belongings, and they were on their feet in an instant. One hand gripped the map, the other reached for the dream nail.

            “If you rather we part after our time here, I understand and will respect that decision.” Quirrel continued nervously. “Please do not let my thoughts on the matter influence your choice one way or another.”

            Unsure of what he was talking about, Ghost ignored it. They needed to know what he knew, and it couldn’t wait for another game of charades. They didn’t like the idea of breaking into his mind, but they had to know.

            They gripped the dream nail like a lifeline and hoped beyond hope that he had some kind of explanation that didn’t damn them both to fighting for the seal.

            The dream nail swung in a smooth arc, blinding light trailing in its wake and illuminating the entire cavern.

            Minds were not as easy to read as one might think. Bugs didn’t tend to think in one simple sentence at a time, rather many different thoughts at once, layering over each other like conversations in a crowd. Reading thoughts was less like actual reading and more like just… understanding. Like standing in the eye of a storm and taking in what they could.

            Everything Ghost found just made things worse.

            No, Quirrel truly had no idea what he was doing in Hallownest, and it seemed like something really was preventing him from ever finding out. That left his purpose open to still include being the seal’s guard, but that wasn’t the part that broke Ghost’s heart.

            Older understanding was typically buried under layers of current thoughts and feelings. As Ghost tried to wade through the tangled mess, they realized what he’d been trying to tell them earlier, why he was panicking now.

            They were both wanderers, on the move more often than not and far too used to being alone. Quirrel had mentioned before that he intended to keep going after his time in Hallownest, and before realizing their own purpose, Ghost thought the same for themself.

            And when they did, Quirrel wanted to go with them?

            The realization felt like being hit by a tram. Too many thoughts, too many feelings. Ghost needed to leave. They needed to go before they did something they’d regret (like tell him ‘yes’).

            Light blazed at their feet and crystals began to form from the rock.

            “I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s happening,” Quirrel told them. “Would you please explain? I’m not sure what I did to upset you.”

            There weren’t words for how much they wanted to explain, but there was far too much. Too much feeling, too much fear, just too much.

            The Crystal Heart completed its charge and Ghost let the magic carry them forward.

            All thought and sound was torn away by the noise of rushing wind. The dark hall blurred around them and everything felt numb. They heard the impact more than felt it when they slammed into the wall at top speed.

            They landed amid dust and crystal fragments and didn’t bother trying to get up. For a long time, they just lay there, curled up into a ball and hoping nothing showed up and tried to kill them, because they were in no state to defend themself.

            Oh gods, why was all this happening? Why now?

            Nothing related to the first two Dreamers had been good, that much was clear, but Ghost found it impossible to think further than that. As much as their next move terrifiedthem, the fear of Quirrel’s connection to the last Dreamer was overshadowed by the other revelation.

            The idea of a future after Hallownest was something Ghost stopped thinking about a while ago.

            Traveling with Quirrel? Going with him somewhere new, somewhere that wasn’t infected or haunted by ancient sins? Leaving Hallownest and the shadow of their cursed purpose behind? It was something they’d never even considered, never thought possible, and they’d never wanted anything so badly in their life.

            And it hurt so much they thought they might be dying.

            Because they wanted to save the Hollow Knight too. They wanted to save Hallownest and those who still lived within its borders. They wanted to put an end to the infection. They wanted the Dreamers’ sacrifice to be worth it. Perhaps they’d die in the attempt, or be locked away in their sibling’s stead; either way, they accepted it. There hadn’t been any other path forward, any alternative.

            And suddenly, there was. The future they’d hoped for Quirrel could be theirs too. The two of them could keep traveling, find new wonders, solve new mysteries. Hallownest and all it meant to them could be left in the past where it belonged.

            But Ghost had come too far and sacrificed too much to stop now. There was only one more seal trapping their sibling inside the black egg. They were so close to saving them, to putting an end to that sad tale.

            Any future outside of that wasn’t possible, and they felt the loss so acutely it might as well have been a wound.

            Even worse, their hopes for Quirrel might be equally impossible. Sure, there was a chance that his part of the story wouldn’t end in tragedy, but when had anything in Hallownest ended happily? If he was as entangled in the kingdom’s history as they were, his story could only end in a similar way. Somewhere deep down, maybe they knew that already.

            Ghost had no idea how long they lay there, mourning a future they could never have. Eventually, they wore themself out. Everything hurt until they couldn’t feel anything at all, and the need to keep going, to finish what they started, forced them to their feet.

            There was only a small section of Crystal Peak left to explore. After that, they’d go to Fog Canyon. Maybe if they got there first, Quirrel’s relation to the Dreamer wouldn’t matter. They could break the final seal and be gone before he ever arrived.

            At least, they hoped so.