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Chapter Text

Something felt heavy, pressing down upon my body and making every limb hard to move. However there was no pain, barley and feeling between me and whatever was so heavy. There was no ground that I could feel, only pressure, and almost immediately I felt as though something was wrong.  

I opened my eyes, but not a thing changed. Darkness permeated my sight, and seemingly the rest of my senses. I couldn’t hear a thing or smell anything either, nothing around me seemed to distinguish my surroundings. Though the thought didn’t hit me immediately, I tried opening my mouth to breathe in a fresh breath of air but nothing came rushing to my lungs. Every time I try, it almost felt like there was something, but not at the same time. Like I am doing the motion of breathing but- nothing was there?  

It was almost like being an astronaut in space without a helmet but- I wasn’t dying…Right?

I wasn’t dying from the lack of air, nor is there any air around me to breathe so… No, that doesn’t make any sense? 

I should be dead, but not- how?

What’s going on? 

Am I a spirit? Or some type of ghost waiting for judgement? Memories are hazy, I can’t even recall what had happened yesterday, or more so the last 24 hours. Actually, I don’t remember much beyond that either. My name is all but vanished in the turbulent sea that is my current state of mind, pieces of a destroyed ship that once sailed without issue now are tossed around by the waves, fleeting memories just out of reach as the waters continue to swirl endlessly. 

But, I didn’t really mind it.

I resonated with the peace within the storm, for everytime I try to remember, a foreboding feeling begins to settle in my stomach. And normally, my mind would begin to drift back towards those thoughts but now, I feel more at peace than I ever had before. It seems that I no longer have the burden of mind, yet am still able to think and feel, and it's amazing. 

From what little sense I could feel, the medium I was submerged in was cold, almost like frost against my skin, and yet I did not freeze from it. It's more like a cold blanket and pillow amidst a summer night, or the cool breezes on a beach when the sun is about to cross the horizon. A blissful state that I didn’t want to leave. 

I feel my eyes begin to close once more, resting within this state and hoping it lasts forever… 

And maybe it did, I certainly didn’t know. But somebody apparently didn’t like my comfort…

“!!”

A sudden surge of energy began to tussle around me, knocking me out of clarity and forcefully rocking me back and forth in what felt like some sort of mass of oobleck. Things around me grazing my skin, worming around and flaring spiky objects. And eyes… so many eyes began to stare at me, an endless gaze of white that seemed to follow me as I am pushed and treated like a ragdoll. They were more so glowing dots in a veil of black, but something, something within my gut, foreign and primal and not like me, screamed that they were watching, and that they were dangerous. 

Though luckily, the carnage soon ended, and the eyes and darkness surprisingly began to fade away, almost looking as though it was retracting… tendril like appendages…? They revealed something bright very far ahead, and despite the distance, I can finally see my surroundings…and myself. 

It must’ve been the darkness, or the amount of time I may have spent here, but my hands were strange, being ebony black, clawed and only having four digits instead of five. Which didn’t add up to what I could remember, where my hands were brown, having blunt nails and five fingers. 

I tried observing the rest of my body, but it was in a similar situation, so I discarded them in favor of thinking of a way outta here. 

Yes, I enjoyed that blissful state I had, but something else lurks here. And that scares me… I don’t like it, the feeling spikes my heart with anxiety, and burdens whatever peace I might’ve had. It reminds me of things, bad things. Of people watching me without myself knowing, the fear that would generate when they scare me. Specific times when a certain person learns something that they shouldn’t have-

I blink and shake my head.

‘ I need to leave… ’

Going over to the light seemed to be the best option as of now, as the creature that was once here is residing in the darkness below, hiding and enveloping itself in it. So I began swimming, ignoring the pressure that the substance around me seemed to exude.  

Time passes by. I don’t know for how long.

I kept swimming, but I haven’t felt any fatigue since I started. But thought wasn’t on my mind, no logistics or trying to figure out the science behind why. I just kept going, for this single desire of reaching the light, and after what felt like hours, I haven’t made much of a distance.

Another hour passes, and I start to see things within the darkness. Tentacled creatures like the one I saw earlier dwell outside of the light, glowing white dots staring right at me. I didn’t pay any mind to them, they aren’t trying to hurt me, so I continue to swim.

Two more hours fly by just as quick, and I finally take notice of my lack of fatigue, and the amount of time that went pass. The pressure on my limbs is lighter, making my strides even easier, however I feel as though my mind is telling me otherwise. As if the constant repetition of my movements is tiring my brain. 

I huffed, and continued anyway, seeing the light get brighter and brighter as I continued.

*swish swish swish* goes my arms, a day passes. An imitation pain is coursing through my arms and yet, I kept going. I know that I’m not athletically gifted, nor am I a strong willed person, so the enigma of me still swimming is a mystery by itself. But I keep going.

Though now, I feel the light against my skin weirdly enough. And the liquid I am is so thin that it finally feels like something akin to the viscosity of water. So it wasn’t very long (compared to how long it took to get here) for me to break the surface, coming face to face with bright, blinding white light.

I- squeaked(?) at the light, going back down into the substance hiding behind the veil-like surface. 

Blinking, I peak out a clawed finger out of the surface, feeling the strange sensation of what I can only assume is the outside air, dry and…oddly ticklish. I attempt leaving the liquid again, this time slower. And the sensation of my finger slowly spreads, the cold, damp air blowing onto my skin and making my body shiver from the feeling.

I breathe in the air, and a wave of weird nostalgia washes over me. Yes, the air wasn’t very clean and the place reeked of ash. But I can finally breathe again, no more of this- liquid, only the air that surrounds me. 

However the moment was soon ruined when I violently vomited the same black liquid that I've been swimming in. It was almost as if someone seen my happiness and sent a personal “Fuck you” to my face. 

And to that, I mentally flipped off whoever decided that it would be funny to do so.

It didn’t take long for me to make it to shore, stepping out of the pitch black water and shaking off my wet form. 

I let out a long sigh, looking over my surroundings as I breathe in the dingy air of this place. And the first thing I take note of the monochromatic coloring of the environment, filled with dull greys and blacks. There wasn’t any white, or any other colors, as if someone made a painting of just water and ink. But surprisingly it wasn’t bland or anything, where rock formations stand tall in the near distance and vine-like structures hanging from the ceiling. 

But something about this looks familiar… But what? I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was as if the reality I was looking at was trying to imitate an image in my head- or was the background for a photograph I had seen, but to what eluded me.

Subtly I twist and turn my head, towards the rocks and towards the large columns… Specifically the one with a giant beam of light coming down from it. The same light that shone down upon me when I emerged from the…black sea… which I do recognize as well. But still- where? Arrgh! I know that I know! But where have I seen this before?

I cross my arms and tap my feet, feet that I only now realize look different than before. I absentmindedly observe, looking at its sleekness, being pure ebony in color and reminding me of another thing…

‘A knight? No. That can’t be, I’m still missing something. Maybe if I climb up there, I could find something?’ 

There were metal stairs spiraling to the top of the lighthouse, so it wouldn’t be difficult to climb up there, hence my lack of physical exhaustion. Though now thinking about taking a breather is becoming more and more tantalizing the minute.

‘Hmmmm… Should I? I mean like it’s not going anywhere… A small nap wouldn’t hurt anyone right?’

I look around, trying to see if anywhere looked comfortable enough to rest, and the grey dust like sand called out to me like a dying soul.

I go over to the shoreline once more, still black water awaiting me at the border where land met sea, and I aproach it around two meters from where it does.   

Soon enough I am drifting away, me and my mental raft float in what is now calm waters amongst a peaceful ocean, my mind no longer in shambles and yet I am still lost. I didn’t think much as I slept, not even the foreboding feeling of what I am gonna do, or where I am comes to mind. 

Only the peace of my environment and the silence that makes it so.

Pale Root was stressed. 

It bore down on her like an oppressive force, weighing down her roots with guilt and shame. 

Root didn’t want to partake in the creation of the vessels. No, she wanted children, which Pale Wyrm had obliged, however not in the way she expected. She didn’t want this, for so many goslings to be made and discarded only for one, one that was going to be caste into an egg, sealed for however many years to keep this kingdom alive. 

It was selfish no doubt, coming from her husband who prioritized his kingdom over the well-being of others, (Deepnest in particular and their feud with the Mantises) and now this. 

If she were honest, any other child would have sufficed being a container for the ancient light. A selfish and immoral thought no doubt, however the situation is far past that point of immorality. For however many of her kin to be slaughtered, by her husband of all people, is the worst feeling in the world.

If she were able to, she would go back in time to tell herself not to partake in such a sin, for the pain after it was agonizing. But as of now, her duty as queen, and as a wife, are not halted by such emotions.

She gently knocked upon the door leading into her husband's laboratory, gently pushing upon when a faint, ‘ come in’ was heard. The room was dark, tinted with traces of the void and hints of soul. Strange structures she didn’t recognize spread out across the room from what she could see, inventions and other strange objects lay nearly discarded upon the ground. A singular light hangs above the king’s desk, work spread out across it with his head laying on top of it all. 

“Dear Wyrm, I brought dinner.” her voice echoed in the relatively small room, her husband looking up at her with a piece of parchment attached to his face. He accepted the dish wordlessly, his hands slipping into hers and securing the bowl of soup. 

“...Soup…? Again?” He asked incredulously at her, and she gave him a stern gaze.  

“You have more food, but it's outside in the dining hall. If you wish to eat, then you must leave your seat.”

Her husband glared. “You know I can’t do that. This is a matter that involves the kingdom’s safety.”

“…Wyrm, I found you here slumped on your desk. Whatever it is you’re doing cannot be more important than your own health.”

The tired king sighed, as if she were the one that wasn’t being rational. “You don’t understand, none of you do. There is no cost too great, I must-“

“ You keep saying that as if it explains everything. Throughout this entire month- no! much longer than that, all you’ve been doing is planning for this, ‘perfect vessel’. I let you slide on a lot of stagshit for a while, and you know what I mean by that.”

His wings flare in defense, hissing at her, “I had too for the-“

“No you didn’t, you really didn’t. I love the little Hornet with all my heart but there was a line that shouldn’t have been crossed and you…did it…once more.”

Pale Root casted her gaze downwards, head hunt in shame. “When you said you wanted children I was elated. For so long I wanted little hatchlings, and the envy of others taking care of their children was overwhelming, and you were aware. And to find out you used my unborn kids as experiments I- There were thousands… and you killed them. …Do you know what that does to someone?”

The room was silent.

The King was silent, his face shaded by the swirling shadows that marinated the room.

“…”

“…Thank you for the meal. You can leave now.”

The Pale Root sighed, moving over towards the door and opening wider so she can slip through.

“Will you be in bed tonight…?” she whispered within the silence.

“Sure.” he said offhandedly, and with that she quietly left the room.

Chapter Text

Silence…

So silent, that I didn’t even realize I was conscious for a few hours or so. Most things, such as the sun glaring into your eye, or the subtle sounds of chatter and whatever usually wakes me in the mornings. Or perhaps I get tired of laying, and become uncomfortable with my surroundings. Which, began to happen to me, and groggily my eyes open to see-

Not a ceiling fan, but a cavern above me?

No…This couldn’t be, I should be in bed right? But then why do my current memories betray that initial thought? I remember sensations and strange things that shouldn’t be possible. I could only describe it as a dream and yet, I’m viewing its continuation. 

I sit up and look around, viewing the familiar landscape of the place I am in, discarded rocks and massive columns still stationary within their spots. A lighthouse is near, beaming down a light that seemed to make my head spin. Not from the brightness, but from what seemed to click on my mind.

Why did it look so familiar? The answer is on the tip of my tounge but…

I squinted at the structure while clutching the side of my head. Observing the weird crown the lighthouse had, the metal design etched into its balcony, and the light shining down upon a lake of black water. But where have I seen this image before?

Crown… Balcony…Lake…

H-Hollow Knight!?

I feel my eyes widen at the realization, and so many things begin to make sense all at once. The dark liquid, the light, my surroundings…

Was I reincarnated? What the fuck happened? I can’t remember a thing! Dammit! Of all medi it just had to be Hollow Knight!? The game with child death, horrifying powers and creatures beyond human comprehension!? What even am I? I’m not a vessel, or, at least I don’t think I am… 

I observe my body, but this time with the proper lighting I could see the littles like how my skin glows faintly with white specs, almost like glitter. I check my feet, which are stilted but not very long, almost like a vessel. However I don’t know if they also have these claws like me, in game I just remembered them to have nubs on the end of each limb. 

I check my face and am surprised by how squishy it is. No hard bone like shell, only fat connected to structure within, like a skull, giving me chubby, fat, baby cheeks. My eyes are big, and carries the traits of eyelids, however upon checking the rest of my head, I found that it was just, barren. 

No horns, ears, hair, just a smooth circular area that just rounded off down to my torso. It feels kinda out of place but eh, maybe I would need a shell to put over it. But oh, speaking of shells… can I-

“Blehhh.” I open my mouth.

Oh, I can. That shouldn’t happen if I was a vessel. I could feel the opening and closing of my jaw as I did that, so maybe I don’t need a shell? I wouldn’t want one if it was going to mute me, and plus me coming out of the Void Lake also disproves me being a vessel since they’re supposed to be born from eggs. But that doesn’t make any sense, if I wasn’t a vessel then what am I? 

I could just be a void being, makes sense considering I came from the void sea and why I don’t have a shell or have anything resembling one. So that would make me more similar to the wingsmoulds and kingsmoulds the Pale King made in his lab. Or more like the Collector, since he can actually speak and has a mind. I remember that much.

But that begs the question. What am I, a non vessel, supposed to do agaisnt the main threat that is plaguing Hallownest. Maybe I can find the dream nail and attempt to fight the Radiance, but that would require Void Heart to do…which I don’t know would work in this scenario since I am most likely not a vessel. Could I perhaps unit the void another way? But that’s if I don’t die from whatever bullshit that’s out there.

However… I did notice the lighthouse was already on this time around. Meaning that either Ghost has came down here already and acquired the shade cloak, or this is time before canon and that light hasn’t turned off yet. While I would love it to be the first option, as it has more promise and likelihood of the Radiance being killed by Ghost, the second option just seemed to be all up to chance. 

I do not know when the lighthouse could’ve turned off, nor how that would correlate to the state of the Kingdom. I could be in a point time before the creation of the vessels, if the Pale King had decided to put it up before making them. But it could also be closer to their creation, or after, or even when the Hollow Knight has already been sealed. There are so many possibilities, and the moment I just hope that it was just the first. It’s better to be certain than to rely on luck, but even then I am not a lucky person…But I’ll see it for myself.

‘ Hmm, maybe as a test, I should climb the lighthouse to see if anyone is inside?’ It would confirm whether Ghost has been in there or not. But if anything, it’s probably a royal retainer in there, so I wouldn’t think that it wouldn’t think it would be that dangerous. But I should be cautious just in case.

With that plan decided, I stand and stretch from my position from the sand. The lighthouse was only a few dozen meters away, and I didn’t have to worry about the stairs either, as I know my body doesn’t tire, or was that because I was swimming inside of the Void Lake? Well I’ll find out soon enough. 

Some time passes. The Lighthouse is massive compared to me as I walk up to it. In front of me are well made steel steps with fancy metal patterns acting as guard rails framing its sides. It looked cool, but felt like a waste for it to be down here. but with my personal thoughts aside, I begin my ascent up.

ANd as I did, I begin wonder about what happened to me, it’s never explained. Of course I know the trope of isekais and how the victim doesn’t remember their name or whatever, but does that include what killed them as well? The thought that I must’ve died is still reeling, and subconsciously I can’t stop seeing this as some sort of dream. Death shouldn’t be something that the mind remembers, yes, I acknowledge that. But I can’t remember anything besides concepts, genres and people. 

Like I know… Dantdm, a person I used to watch when I was a kid on a platform called ‘Youtube’, playing a game called ‘Minecraft’. But my appearance and all of my personal experiences are gone. And the fact I can remember someone as insignificant to my life as fucking skibidi toilet , but can’t even remember my own family, is just plain saddening. 

Finally, I begin to see that top, and the opening into the lighthouse, and I eagerly make my way up, skipping two steps at a time.

Once on the metal balcony, I peer inside, observing the well kept atmosphere of the place, a contrast to what it was in game. The chests from before are neat and organized, as well as a desk that resembles the Pale Kings horns sitting with a few papers on top of it. The massive lever to the light stationed on one of the sides of the room. A small bed lays on the other side, and in the center is a massive container where Lumiflys buzz around and glow. 

But something was wrong, where was the-

The metallic sound of blade cutting through the air reverberates through my ears. And slowly, I feel a knife exiting the spot where my head connects to my torso.

It was another cycle for Mel, dwelling amidst the dinginess of his new home within this dark, eerie cavern. He was fortunate enough for the king to have let him reside within this lighthouse perched on top of a rock formation though, protecting himself agaisnt whatever darkness that dares tries to make its way up here.

Not doubting the words of the king, as his majesty did say that the light produced from the lighthouse will negate any worries, he had to stay cautious. So he hid a small nail within his silver robes, ready to be sheathed if any creatures that try and come up here. And surprisingly, they came sooner than he thought. 

Only by the silence of this place could Mel have heard the silent tapping of feet agaisnt metal allowed him to prepare himself for its presence. Luckily, it seemed small, small enough to kill in one swoop to its neck. But he couldn’t go for it now, he has to be patient.

Yes, patience was key. He had to wait till he sees it peer though the door. 

Almost there… 

As soon as large, white eyes looking around the room, he lunged forward.

It was so quick and silent, that he didn’t even realize his short nail was sticking out the other side of the poor thing, and with a ‘shlick’, he pulled the blade out in a harsh slash that left the head of the creature nearly torn off.’

Ebony blood gushed from it as the body fell back down the steps from which it came. He would almost feel bad, but he knows that the things were mindless, as per what his sire described. So remorse wasn’t needed, and guilt not need to bare down upon his soul, however he cannot shake the feeling that he had done something wrong. 

Maybe it was the hemolymph like fluid that gushed from it, landing onto his clothes and making it appear as he was apart of a crime. Or perhaps it was the way he had kilt it. Nearly severing off ones head must be painful. But he was glad that it was so smooth.

Sheathing the blade within his robes he went to walk back in the light house. He didn’t feel good about it, but that doesn’t matter, his safety is a priority an-

Tap

‘ Huh ?’

Mel turned to look around and… no one was there. Only the silent atmosphere and polished metal of the stairs are there, nothing else.

‘ I- I must be imagining things. I did kill it already, nothing can come back from a nearly being beheaded right? It’s probably in its death throes, and I must’ve heard that, yeah that. No way it could survive…’

But then Mel heard the noise again. And again and again, until he had to turn around more to see the creature he just killed, walking up his step as if it wasn’t nearly decapitated. And… It’s head was in its hands, cradling it and holding it up so it doesn’t fall.

“ My Wyrm !? How are you alive, melodious creature!? I saw you die by my blade!” No response came back, or no intelligent one at least, however it still advanced up to him, and Mel unsheathed his nail once more.

“Get back! I will cut you down another time if I must. Get back!!” The retainer demanded, however the creature kept advancing, and Mel was beginning to panic. 

He wanted to move, but it was as if he couldn’t, some from holding him in place despite the lack of anything to bind him. His hands shook, and the nail clattered to floor admist the panic, and slowly the creature advances, it’s head nearly back on its shoulders with its hand outstretched wide. 

Small dark clawed hand approaches, reaching up to be face and cradling it in a death’s sweet caress. Lights danced upon its skin, and a mixture of hot and cold arose once its finder made contact. Nails grace his face, sharp and scraping against his mask…and Mel couldn’t take it anymore.

Soon enough, the world goes black, and he feels himself falling to the floor.

One Hour previously…

The Wyrm was stressed.

He has been sitting at his desk for what felt like years, however he knows it has only been two off days for him, and tomorrow he must get back to his duties. 

First, preparations for the Pure Vessel must be made. It needs to do some soul training with him, and physical training with the Five Great Knights. The Pale King, as well, needs to keep in contact with Momomon and the Soul sanctum to see when the masks are ready for enchanting. The Soul Sanctum isn't a place he could 100% trust, but he couldn’t doubt the legitimacy of the scholars that reside there. The construction of the Black egg temple, too, needs checking up on. However he must find the time to do all this whilst still managing the Pale Court and proposals from counsel members. 

Being a King means that he has an obligation to care for his subjects, even if the demands aren’t entirely serious as some make it to be. Usually civil matters would come to his attention, criminals matters too and deciding punishment for the crime committed. Though, most of his day would go to a dispute between nobles who believe themselves higher than the other, and for the life of him we wish he could tell them to act like adults, however you cannot teach an old Gruz new tricks, as some say. 

It’s all so tedious, to remain a stoic and unmoving figure while just wanting to drop the case entirely to go back to trying to save the kingdom. But he knows there is no cost too great in saving what he holds dear, and he hoped that his wife shared the same settlement. Too bad that is not the case. He really does love her, and it is why he is doing all this, for her and the home they’ve built. A sacrifice must be made, and if that means being a bad husband for the remainder of the time the Pure Vessel must be trained, then so be it. 

Finally, after spending days within his lab, the Pale Wyrm exits the room, fresh palace air rushing into his spiracles as the darkness clinging to his robes vanishes under the brightness of the lights. His eyes adjust to the new brightness, and he slowly meanders his way towards his bedroom, where he had promised his wife that he’d be in tonight despite his duties for the kingdom.

But before he could grab the handle, something- a premonition struck him, leaving his hand stationed midair.

His surroundings begin to be replaced with a new environment, dark and yet filled with silvers and light reminiscent of the Palace he resides in. A bright luminescent Lumifly lantern resides in the very center of the room, with beakers of soul lying adjacent upon the floor. The room was empty of life however, and the Pale King grew concerned.

The Wyrm knew of this room, despite it not being on his mind in recent weeks, he still remembers the purpose of it. A Royal Retainer of his was supposed to keep watch over the lighthouse and study the properties Lumifly light has over the void. But the room was a mess… Everything looked ransacked, as if something had came in and ruined the place. But… more concerningly, where was that Retainer…? Unless-

Immediately something spiked the Pale King’s senses. The feeling of darkness he’s grown familiarity with crawling against his shell, whispering to meaningless noises in his ears.

He looks over to the entrance, six ethereal wings flared in a defensive measure as something stands in the doorway to the lighthouse. It is taller than he is, but not by much. A veil of darkness covers it at the singular entrance to the lighthouse, only allowing its strange silhouette to be visible in the door frame. He couldn’t make out much, besides its bizarre shape, but soon enough, it turned in his direction. 

Looking at him.

Its attire glistened as if made by the finest jewels, stature elegantly crafted as it turned its head towards he. A white sclera behind pitch black iris’ stared, and stared and stared. Unmoving into his own gaze. It knows… It must know that he’s watching them despite it only being a vision. It knows that he’s here. He felt like a vengeful caught in a stag’s sights, a prey to predators' gaze.

The Wyrm refused to admit it, but he was paralyzed in place, instincts flaring at the ‘danger’ only a few meters away from him. Its eyes came off him as it turned back to look from the white house, ebony black hair and similarly colored clothing swishing as it did so. 

But then, it spoke, nearly silent as it chanted in a weird language that the Wyrm did not recognize, seemingly addressing nothing before eventually going out of his field of view.

That’s when the vision ended, himself nearly collapsing upon the ground, wings flared and instincts going crazy. His breaths were shaky, but he was able to quickly get them back under control, however, he began questioning what he had seen.

But soon, his confusion began to turn into anger, an indignant rage because how dare it make him feel threatened? He is a god. Some void pest shall not make him look like a foolish insignificant creature trembling behind a flat stone. He’d ought to come down into that pit and pike it himself, show its head upon his wall and relish in the satisfaction.

But no, not now. He must think rationally, checking in on the Retainer he had placed in the Abyss is a must, as they are just a common bug despite their knowledge of soul. If he had a chance, however, he would kill that thing without hesitation. 

He’s sure Root wouldn’t mind another day without him being in bed…right?

Chapter Text

I gasp, air violently rushing into my mouth and being spat out in quick bursts. 

My eyes were wide at the sight before me, because in my hands was a bug, only being held by the grip I have against their mask, otherwise they would be falling on the floor right now, either incapacitated or…dead.

I slowly set the guy down, grasping a limp hand to check for a pulse. Which, however faint, was still there, and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

I- don’t know how this happened, how one moment turned to another in an instant. Or at least, an instant to myself, as only then I had gained clarity and was now in a completely different position than earlier. But, I do remember the event that led up to this strange happening and…It is not a good visage to think about. 

My hands drifted to my ‘neck’ feeling nothing but the smooth, black material my body is made of. It’s so strange that I couldn’t feel a wound even though the black stains of…my blood… were scattered on the floor, stairs and dagger the bastard used to stab me with. Though, wouldn’t it make sense to take that with me? 

Yes, I do not know how to use a dagger, or any weapon for that matter, but it is better than having no weapon. Plus, I don’t necessarily have to use it for attacking, the survival benefits of owning a dagger would prove useful. Though, it is disturbing at the least, with all the blood still lingering on it and all.

Glancing at the bug, I pick up the discarded weapon, and grab the reflective, silver robes of the retainer with the other claw. 

I grip the tool, and slowly smear the black substance on the clothing, all the blood resembling and ink stain upon the contrasting white and silver fabrics. I took care to get as much of it off, and when I was finished it was almost as good as new. I’m sure it needed rinse, as the tip looked a bit greyer than the base of the weapon, but I’m sure only I would notice such a detail.

“Better.” I say aloud, satisfied at the obvious black stain left upon the cloth. I hope it takes weeks to clean out. Serves him right for stabbing me in the first place. 

Looking over into the bright room of the Lighthouse, I get up from my position on the ground and walk inside. I feel my eyes glisten as I see all the potential loot here in big silver chests. If my smile were visible, it would be from ear to ear as I rubbed my grubby hands, already digging into the first chest closest to the door. There was clothing, paper, writing utensils, all that boring stuff I couldn’t carry with me. Except for maybe clothing, though, I wouldn’t want anyone to believe that I was a part of whatever the Pale King had going on, so I could just probably find it elsewhere. Maybe even find the mothwing cloak, oh how exciting that would be.

Something that did catch my eye though was a scabbard that perfectly holds the small nail I stole, though it’s a wee bit too big to fit me, as it is one that is more like a chest plate than anything, with pockets and pouches in some inconspicuous area. Thankfully enough though, there seemed to be a fastener on… somewhere? The geometry of this thing confused me, so I sigh a breathe and just take it with me to another chest of supplies.

Nothing but more paper and personal items seemed to be in here, until something shiny managed to spark my interest. I reached in, aiming for a particular elegant handle from within and-

‘Woah...’ was my first thought when looking at myself in a handheld polished mirror.

It was… fascinating, to say the least. My face seemed as though it was twinkling as tiny white dots shimmer and shone on my cheeks like stars. They were similar to freckles, spread across glowing white vessel like eyes. 

I didn’t have any horns or antennae, and no visible mouth. From the head down, my body was pitch black mass with some dotted marks here and there that resembled the ones on my face. Though I did like how I looked, there were some things that I would complain about. My body was a main one, I disliked how short I was. But honestly it wasn’t that bad, at least my size wouldn’t obscure most spaces within Hollow Knight 

Then there was my face, which sure, looked pretty, but I really wanted to resemble Hornet or Grimm. I enjoyed their eye shape a lot, perhaps I can get a mask made for myself in the future.

Putting down the mirror for a moment, I go to sit down on the cool ground, pondering. 

I still haven’t managed to glean any knowledge from the retainer yet… Them being alive only discards the potential of me in Hollow Knight’s current timeline. But I could be in a point in time where the Hollow Knight is sealed, and the kingdom is beginning to go through its status. Damn you Team Cherry for not giving your fucking game a timeline to base off of. Hell, most things are unknown by the community, nearly nothing was given to us besides the events that took place when the knight came to Hallownest. 

I didn’t even know where the knight was at this point of the lore, the point where the retainer died was never given. Though… he didn’t at all have the black streaks running from their eyes that bug’s killed by void usually obtain after death. So maybe that could indicate that he was placed here recently? That's the only connection I can grasp for now, but I think I should hurry for now. I don’t know when the Retainer was going to arise from being unconscious. 

Idly, I looked back into the mirror, and realized something off about my appearance. Just a minute ago my eyes were oval shaped… Why do they look leaf shaped now? And my head, there were horns sprouting out from it, long but weightless, as I didn't even notice they were there. They almost resemble hornet’s, long and curved. It took me a moment to comprehend the change, I didn’t know how to react. But immediately I was taken back to thought. Of how I wanted to look like Hornet or Grimm. 

I picked up the mirror once again, getting a better look, and I was right, they did look like hornet’s, just like it actually. And my eyes, I looked deep into them, observing how they squinted and glared at the reflection in front of them. I’d first assumed they were Hornets too, but they weren’t ovals like hers were. They were sharp, ending in points that reassembled Grimm’s eye shape, only now just white and lacking the eye liner.

As a quick test, I close my eyes and imagine wanting to look like the Knight, taking care to replicate the small details of their shell in my head. Such as the two small knobs at the ends of their horns, the oval shape of their eyes and squarish shape of the shell. And then, I suddenly felt something, like an unexplainable reflex struck me. As if a muscle I didn’t know I had was demanding to be used. 

I flexed this strange new muscle, and a ripple was sent out through my body, quick but very noticeable. This unexpected jolt caused me to open my eyes, and I was met with the visage of my face shifting, restructuring itself into the form I had imagined. Horns moving and twisting into shape, eyes changing and curving, face expanding into that recognizable shell shape.

In a few moments, I was staring at the Knight within the mirror, blanky staring back at me with a piercing white gaze. It more reassembled their  shade more than their actual shell, but it still proved something very important to me.

…I am a shapeshifter.

That’s… Amazing!!

Unruly excitement filled my body, I can change into anything I want, this could be so useful. I’m not sure if I could stray away from the monochromatic color scheme, but even then. It's still mind rattling. Oh, perhaps it was the reason I didn’t die from being stabbed in the neck, do I technically not have any vitals? Or I do have them, but I can shift them around as a defensive mechanism. Ahck! So much to think about!

Can I change my body along with my face? It would make sense, with my body being made out of a mailable substance. I should probably test out what I can do before I start really altering my appearance. The small things, such as can I transfigure my arm into something else? It sounded simple enough, so I stood once again and held out a small clawed hand. 

I thought of something, like a blade- no, a claw. Like the mantis claw, long and curved with spines running along the inside of the blade, all connected to my left arm. Once again, that ripple was felt within my body, and then the strange and uncomfortable sensation of my fingers merging and stretching into one being became abhorrently apparent. 

Not even a few seconds later, a long singular claw like formation was at the end of my left hand. There wasn’t any color attached, bearing the same shade as I, even speckled with those same white dots as the rest of my form. And the material, I could feel the density and weight of it, unlike the horns I had sprouted from my head previously. Those aspects I wasn’t thinking of, so subconsciously it formed in the way I desired? I wanted a tool like the mantis claw, so if I had chosen the form of an actual nail, would it be light and glide through the air? Would it be brittle? Would I hurt myself if I tried using it on a stone? 

“Ugh! So much to think about!” I say out loud, deep in my own thoughts. Glancing at the floor for a moment, I spot a stack of papers I discarded onto the floor only minutes prior. Perhaps there was a pen- or quill for me to use? I don’t think they had invited pens yet, so i’d have to find some ink too. 

Quickly morphing my hand back to normal, not nearly as time consuming as changing it to a claw, I begin to dig in the silver chests again. I do find more sheathes for the blade I have, but no other blades. Strange, but not what I’m looking for.  Eventually I find what I need, the writing utensil and the ink, and plop myself onto the floor once again. 

I grab a paper, and begin noting down what I know, and the questions that I still had unanswered. With a childish glee I write, and with each penstroke my excitement grew. 

And thus began my experimenting. 

Alone, she sits.

In a bed, lingering of his presence and yet only the resident being herself.

He wasn’t here, he said he’d listen, but he wasn’t here. She had waited for most of the night, mocking the motion of sleeping and yet he still never arrived. By her roots, she could tell he was doing something, something most likely important. And realistically, she shan't be so selfish, however this burrowing feeling in her heart, it is tight with emotion. But why? Why didn’t he come? 

The Pale Root rises out of the bed made for two, tirefully looking at the room's entrance.  

She can barely remember a time where he has come through that door, greeting her with that tender love that aches her to think about. She’s surprised it’s already been a year, nearly 12 full moon’s passing since that damning forecast of the future. One so demanding that it sapped all endearment out of him, leaving this husk of her husband left. 

Though she knows well, her Wyrm has always been a stubborn soul, especially on matters she believes aren’t too serious. Like that poor lifeblood child, deemed as a heretic for something she could not control herself. But, it's never been this bad. So life consuming that he sits and doesn’t give her any love or even sympathy.

The White Lady has been trying, trying for months. But she’s never accomplished anything besides his cold glares, asking for her to leave in a flat, emotionless tone. She wants to keep trying but what would be the point? Until the kingdom has been saved, she will not be seeing that same person she fell in love with so long ago. And she doesn’t know how long that would be. 

She shan’t think of that now, no- she must clear her head. Her private section of Greenpath is always the place she goes to whenever she’s stressed and anxious like this. And besides that, she would like to tend to the garden Unn so graciously gave her. It would be unlike herself to just forsake them over some meaningless dispute. Soon, it will blow over, this burden on her mind will soon disappear into the fog from which it came. 

All he needed was time, time away from her smothering behavior. His focus was of top priority, for the kingdom’s sake. And she was only getting in the way of that, her selfish needs and desires trying to over take what was really important. Her Wyrm would come back, but not now, not in the near future even. For his plan is only in its ripe development, only now when the vessel is mature then maybe she’ll see him the way he was before this all started.

And yet, a future so far. The Lady is solemn that she has to do this, to hide herself away, but it was necessary. Her husband shall understand, the Great Knights she sees as her own children will understand, and her kin tainted with darkness shall find it in their hollow shell to understand, even in its purity. 

She stands, picking up her robes and walking out  of her and the Wyrm's private quarters. If needed, she will call Fierce Dryya if anything arises. 

With sorrowful steps, Pale Root wanders over into the stag shrouded in secrecy, one made for nobles and royals alike. Away from the public and their mischievous claws. In silence she climbs the creature, destination already set in mind. 

But within the rough journey, a silent tear rolled down a delicate cheek, lost within the turbulent roads further ahead. 

I’ve been writing for a while, though any physical ailments that would’ve beseeched me were unfelt. It was hard to keep track of how much time flew by. There was no sun, or clock to tell, but from the mental clock in my head, i’d say it has been about an hour. 

Multiple pieces of paper were set in front of me, each filled with the fanatic ramblings of someone who seemed mad. But even then, the experimentation of my body has been going great. I found out so many things about myself that would be helpful in the future. Such as the shapeshifting properties connected to my form. 

Such as the density of my body. It was surprising how much matter I could keep pulling out of it. Though, it does appear that my body has a limit, and when I hit this limit I start to feel strain then eventually pain where my body was stretching. Theoretically, I could stretch my body in a way that could let me expand in size, however, I have yet to discover how to do this, so the idea remains on the back burner for now.

Another strange feature is the various materials I could replicate with my skin. The most comfortable for me was the one most similar to flesh, it was easy to move around in, but I could tell it was most likely the weakest. Then there's something a little harder, but not the hardest I could produce. Flexible enough that using it isn't too uncomfortable, but it was way too heavy to move around in my small frame. But maybe soon I could support the weight, though I don’t know how I would go about increasing my physical strength. My body was made out of void, and whether my muscles function like regular muscles is a mystery to me.  

Oh! I discovered how to detect the soul within my body. 

Discovering soul in general was hard enough, and it was probably due to the prior knowledge I have of Hollow Knight that I correlated it with my situation. But every time I had shapeshifted, I felt a small portion of this warmth go into my transfigured limb. It was only when I noticed it that I put the pieces together. Even the white speckles covering my limbs reacted when I shapeshifted as well, glowing a touch as the soul circulated through my body. 

But, I assume that shapeshifting requires soul to properly use and sustain. The amount of soul however isn’t significant enough for me to notice. I need more definite ways of measuring my soul gauge, assuming I even have one considering how soul spreads throughout my body. 

I still have more questions, properly written down of course in the many papers in my grasp, but as of now I think I should begin figuring out a way on how to get out of here. I had already put on the sheathe for the dagger, and fortunately it did come with pockets for me to put my notes into. So standing up, I take another good look in the mirror, observing my face in the mirror. 

Two small sweeping horns come from the back of my head, and leaf shaped eyes are shone on the front. Simple, but enough to satisfy my needs as of now.   

I freeze.

My eyes were blown wide, and I was… shaking?

A powerful presence was close, nearby even. Within the same vicinity as me. 

It wasn’t my mind that was telling me this, but something else, within the darkness that made up my body did it scream out, telling me to thrash and flee away from the power that was approaching. 

‘What is that? This feeling was so intense- It’s making my head start to ache. What could that even be- No. I know what it is. There wasn’t much else it could be other than the Pale King… Fuck.’ 

The power I assume I was sensing was so… immense. Like an infinite well of power submerged under the guise of normalcy.My human mind had a hard time understanding this,  and maybe it is due to that fact that I began to strategize. Strategize an escape. 

If this really was the Pale King, then maybe I could get past him. I’d be able to leave the Abyss. Other exits are definitely possible, some vessels managed to make it to Deepnest, but the Abyss door was the most guaranteed way out. It will allow me access to the City of Tears and outwards to the Resting Grounds, if the Dream Nail was even still located there. 

Confrontation with the guy, was most definitely off the table, I am sure that he had some level of awareness like I do, perhaps even far greater than mine. In fact… could he sense me right now?

I breathed, trying to calm my nerves. 

I can’t mess this up.

Chapter Text

The Pale King’s hands shook, only a minute amount, as he unsealed the door to the Abyss. 

The cold air rushed outwards, chilling his carapace. Though, it certainly wasn’t as frostbitten as the feeling he felt from its stare, that haunting, unmovable, putrid gaze he had not seen from any bug nor any life form. and what it did to him. As if it was seared into his mind he felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. And oh how he despises it. 

For he, a god, to react like that from another. He was beyond furious, but that fury does not resolve all the tension his body is feeling. It didn’t look special, not unlike what he’s seen from other bugs. Not big in the slightest, no weapons or fierce aura. It was maybe one of the most unnoticeable creatures he had laid his eyes upon. 

Though, instinctually, he recognized that this entity wasn’t a normal void being, no not in the slightest. It could see him despite it only being a vision, spoke in a dialect that felt so constructed yet so odd, and draped in clothing that only the nobility would wear, even if the colors were horridly dark. 

Wyrm was going to find out now though, he wanted to check up on his loyal servant down here personally. For this to happen right after securing a vessel from the Abyss had to be no coincidence.

Reaching the floor wasn’t too much effort. The air was as cold as ever, but it wasn’t anything he’s already used to. Though, he’s never seen the shells this closely before, or realized they rose this much through all the trials of searching for a pure vessel. A nagging voice in the back of his head, one that suspiciously sounded like his Root whispered, “It’s you, all you. You did this carnage. Monster…” But he ignored it, he shant bare guilt that wasn’t warranted. They were all mindless things anyways.

Making it to the Lighthouse, he scanned for anything out of place with the building from a far. And upon finding nothing, he decided to go over and scale the thing himself, step by step, presenting a calm aura despite the maelstrom of thoughts going on in his mind. He was asking himself if it was still here, and what to do if it is. To kill it? To capture it?

It could help him discover more about the void and its effects if he captures the thing. He would ask questions himself if it was sentient.

Wait no- what blasphemy was he thinking? It made a mockery of him, It was a threat to him and his kingdom. Punishment must be given, whether it would be a swift end or long and drawn out, is up to the creature itself. And he was sure it would put up a fight, so he holds no doubt it would try and attack like the other void beasts that act on instinct. 

From the corner, he sees a black flecks staining the silver of the stairway before him. And as he advances, he sees more and more of this inky substance as something seemingly splattered its way down the steps. He was almost at the top, and over the last few steps he finally sees the downed visage of his royal retainer almost near the edge of the balcony.  

The Wyrm rushes over to him, kneeling down and checking for any potential wounds on his person, but finds nothing. Only a smear of black liquid was found on his white robes, however just in case, he focuses a sudden burst of soul into the other bug, causing him to jolt awake in fever. He was blabbering, looking around in a panic, as if searching for something until he noticed his divine presence.

“S-Sire! My deepest apologies… ” he blurts out in a stammer quickly getting back on his feet and going into a deep bow of respect. “What finds you here?” 

“I had a premonition of something happening here. Is everything going well?” The King asks, as calm as ever. It took the retainer a moment before he recalled the events that happened not even an hour prior. 

“I-I was doing hard research at the top of the spire, as usual. That was when I had heard something creeping its way from the bottom of the stairwell. I had thought I had slain the foul creature, when…”   The retainer paused, only for a second though, as he spoke up once more, only quieter, “It had come back up, head in its hands. I had aimed for the neck, and yet it still came back. And when it got near, it merely put a hand on my face then I was out like a small candle.”

The Pale King held a thinking pose for a moment, observing the mess of black upon the balcony. It was an interesting ability, yes. To put one to sleep in an instant without any conflict, was something that had potential. But still, very dangerous. In conjunction with what he knew of the infection, it could be a deadly combo. All the more reason to get rid of it at once. “Interesting, could you describe what it looked like?”

“It was small, maybe around half my height with a pitch black body, and two glowing eyes. Oh, and it had many tiny white dots covering it as well.” The retainer describes, and The Pale King internally pauses, confused. 

“You are certain?”

“Y-Yes! Your Majesty.”

“At ease, I take no offense. Merely curious.” The retainer’s posture relaxes a fraction.

“Why do you ask, Sire?”

The King’s white pupils stray from the retainer as he looks off to the side, inside of the lighthouse itself. It was still a mess, like his premonition. So it must've happened recently.

“I had seen something different in my vision. But similar to what you describe. You say it was small but it was nearly as tall as I, as well as carrying many growth and horns upon its head. And the most daring were its eyes. I dislike its gaze deeply.” The King said with animosity, lingering as a silence soon grew between the pair.

The Pale King turned, addressing his servant, “I believe your time here in this wretched place has concluded. We have all the research we need already, I see that there is no more use for this spire. You may return to your regular duties when we resurface. And of course you will be compensated for this risky venture.”

“It was an honor, your Majesty.” 

‘…What was that?’

The Pale King’s eyes wandered around, something was off.

His instincts were telling him that they were being watched, that another presence was nearby and close. But, from what he could see in the still darkness, nobody was present. He might be imagining things, but he wasn’t one to dismiss gut feeling, even if from the most ridiculous of whims. This was another instance, he must in himself, no doubt must linger.

Sniff…

Sniff…

Maybe the most shameful ability of wyrms, in his opinion, was their very potent sense of smell. Not only the scent of flesh but soul as well was inescapable by their noses. Soul’s scent was special, specific. Usually always stronger than everything else. Soul always carries the same smell, no matter the individual. The flesh in conjunction with SOUL makes a unique, strong scent for an individual. 

So this, unique scent, reminiscent of his Pure Vessel but not quite. It’s- nearby...

It’s…

The King’s eyes flash open, a spell at the ready, aimed for a spot on top of the spiked roof of the spire. A spear manifested and shot out, a shimmering pale light emanating from its ethereal form.

*SHINK!!*

He had hit something, a shrill shriek echoing out from where he had aimed. Black blood splattered out, splaying itself onto the fine metal flooring. He could hear the retainer gasp a little, and with the spear lighting the area a bit better, he got a good look at this creature.

No piercing black orbs, or strange growths hanging from its head, or majestic black robes that resembled nobility. But instead something of what his retainer describes. Short stature with those familiar white eyes, along with the white specks be described. It awfully reminded him of that other void being he had seen, with their glittering robes that resemble jewelry. 

It was panting, obviously in pain. Strange enough that it was since from his knowledge, void beings weren’t aware enough to even have the slightest bit of reaction to it. Though in its possession was one of the sheathes he recognizes. Produced for the ones directly under him, it must’ve theft it from the retainer’s many chests within the Lighthouse. And in that sheathe, was a Nail, and that made The Pale King wonder if it knew- 

If it knew what it was, if it knew how to use it. Will will it slash with efficiency or swing it with the gracefulness of a vengefly. Was it just mimicking the behavior of his retainer? Was its mind blank? Waiting to be imprinted with a will. Was it sentient, did it have a mind? Could it speak? Can it speak to him? 

No! All of this was all meaningless. He shall nip this being before it could ever fester into something much worse. So with elegance, he summons thrice the amount of spears as before, each poised to fire at the slightest movement. 

Sharp, hunter-like eyes stared into his own, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

‘Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!’

What was I doing!? The situation really did dawn on me when I was staring into the cold eyes of the Pale King, the equivalent to a god. A fucking god! What the hell was I gonna do? The Pale fucking King himself was in front of me and looked about ready to throw another one of those spears at me if even dare to move an inch.

Arrrgh why didn’t I move!? Neither of them could see me while I was on the roof, and even then I was resting in between the spikes littering the area. It should’ve worked! I should’ve got out there when I had the chance. But no… I just had to try and understand what they were saying. 

The dialect I was hearing… It was recognizable in the sense that words were too jumbled together to convey a sentence, but hints of words here and there struck something familiar within me- as to what I had no clue. 

And, God, his gaze is so much more intense than I’ve ever thought. I never understood it truly, not until now, the weight of a person’s stare upon my soul. It was obvious why I felt this way, I knew that he was a God and what power that would entail, but holy shit. I can feel my limbs shake a minute, but my breaths were still surprisingly stable. 

But then, the Pale King spoke, in reality and in my mind. His voice echoing and infiltrating my brain like with was a fucking parasite. Loud and obnoxious, like an airhorn being blown directly into my ears. To the outside I could barely understand but in my head it was in perfect, legible english. 

“BEING BORN FROM THE SHADOWS. BY MY GLISTENING BLADES. YOU. SHALL. DIE!”

Three shining ethereal blades form, thrice of which were summoned from before. They illuminated the darkness in a spectacular way, and each of them were directly at me.

“Fuck…” I muttered, my hand subtly drifting over to my leg, where I was stabbed. It was a gnarly wound from what I could feel, and subconsciously I was surprised that it really didn’t hurt as much as I originally would’ve thought. 

I glanced over at the edge of the lighthouse- it was a long fucking drop, and the natural fear of heights anyone would feel in a situation like this didn’t help in the slightest. But I felt as though I had no choice but to take the leap of faith. 

“PERISH!”

I focused soul into my right hand and I leap, diving into the encroaching darkness below.

Purity for which it lacked. 

Born crude, a mistake. 

Compassion was a sin.

A sin unfortunately crafted within its creation, with no fault of its creator. 

Of father…

For with sin, it is not pure.

And yet it’s wings, it desired to fly.

Prance the lands it was denied.

Purpose be damned to the murky Abyss it lays. 

Soaring high in the skies, the need for freedom.

And yet it was never to come, for it was shade condemned into a broken body. 

Alone at the edge of the Universe… Humming a tune of salvation.

The King watched as the creature dove from the crown of spikes, dodging his spears with the cost of its small pathetic life. 

At first he was confused at the sight, even with a hint of pity for its apparent stupidity. Did it really just take its life only to avoid his wrath? How humorous, perhaps the pain of his attack was too much for the poor thing. This weakness was pathetic. He observes the ground in anticipation, waiting for the ground shaking thud that was soon to come.

…

…

‘Nothing…?’

But… as he waited, nothing came up, no screams, not even the thud of a body hitting the floor. He began trying to look harder, searching for anything to prove the death of this being but there was nothing of the sort. In fact, if it were to live, where could it be trying to go other than-

‘It knew…’

‘IT KNOWS ABOUT THE DOOR!’

Spreading his wings once more, he soars down with speed, blazing bright wings lighting up the path. He was already half the path to the lighthouse and he spotted a limping figure somehow maintaining a similar speed to himself. It was obscured by the darkness, but that meant nothing to him. With a hand he charges 10- no 20 spears of brilliant light with one hand, sending them raining upon the wretch birthed from the Abyss.

One by one they rain, and on the very last few he managed to hit the creature. More of its ebony blood barely visible coating the darkened walls. Seemingly ignoring its injuries however, it runs into the corridor leading to the pit filled with Vessel Shells. The Pale King was soon to follow, but was held up by something unexpected.

*THWIP!*

The blood splattered on to the walls shot out, stretching across the exit. It blocked him for a second, only just a mere second. And as soon as he registered it, the pathetic attempt to block his way was eradicated in just a swipe of a spear. But as much as the attack infuriated him, he was intrigued…

How much of this was planned? Did it have the intelligence to set these traps or was it pure instinct that it was leading on? Less his retainer was secretly teaching this creature of the outside world, how would it ever thought to conceive a strategy like this. It was not moulded, not imprinted with will or thought. This was immeasurably impossible. Whatever it was, he’d not care for whatever wills it to being, not letting it escape was his first priority. Who knows where it would go, what chaos it would bring if it was set free. 

These small traps seemed to be a trend, but they weren’t a problem. He could still see it, just a little ways away. It finally seems like that injured leg was finally affecting its strides, as it slowed  each passing second. Though, almost at the pit of discarded shells, a final barricade was set thicker than the last he's seen prior. Not giving after a single slash like the others, but at this point, it was a slow walk, calming for someone in his position. He can only imagine the agony coursing through that creature's mind at the sight of him slowly approaching. How blessed it was, to be killed by a Pale Being like himself personally.

With a resolute slash, the last bloccade was broken, and he observed the area with a fine eye, trying to spot a living shadow amidst the darkness. Bones crush, snapping under the pressure of his feet. He shows no remorse, not a shred. Cares not for the failures trampled, the bodies buried, all for the sake for his eternal kingdom. Not one more creature birthed from this Hell shall leave. With a pulse of SOUL, he flares his aura outwards, lighting up the environment around him.

But there was nothing. 

No one around, no one scaling to the door above, there wasn’t a presence around him. 

‘Father…’

The Pale King looked behind himself, there was a voice, or the wind, he couldn’t tell. 

“F̸̡͕̜͕̂̽̀́͝a̶̢͉̋͗͑͠t̵̮̩̪̻̆ḧ̴̢̙̖̮͈͕͠ę̴̤̽r̴͚͎̬̊̓̈̆͝ ̶̛͈̚p̴̺̌͒͌̔l̵̻͝ę̸͍̞͙̱̙͂a̶̡̢̹̯̤͇͛̄s̸͙̹͕̞̼̏͌̔͊̿̆͜ȩ̷͇̲̖͙̚…̴̧̯̈́̆”

The Pale King clutched his head, the world was beginning to spin.

“F̸̡͕̜͕̂̽̀́͝a̶̢͉̋͗͑͠t̵̮̩̪̻̆ḧ̴̢̙̖̮͈͕͠ę̴̤̽r̴͚͎̬̊̓̈̆͝ w̴̢̤̹͙̺̹̺͇̤͑͐̊̂̂̄̆̽̎̉̐̕h̶̡͖̘͈͇͚̓y̶̧̛̛̜̩̘̖͍̘͇̻̬̝̤̞͉̲̐͑́̓́̓͛̑̿͌̍̌̌̍̉̃̾̓̕͝͠͠ͅ?̶̨̧̟̣̼͎͉̜̼͈͖̼͎͍͖̣̻͍͇̥͍̞̮̰̉͒͌́͆̔̔̃͛̀̏́̓̚͜͝?̴̢̞̥͉̗̗̺̞̘͛̆͂͒̈́̓͑̉̊̉̅̒̋̐̕͝”

“ENOUGH!” The King shouted, and the world suddenly became silent once again. There was a continuous beating, felt full within his chest. His heart slamming into his ribs as this silence persisted.

And then it finally dawned on him…

It was hiding within the shells.

But it was too late.

*Shink…*

Pain erupted from his spine, a blade lodged forcefully into his back, pristine white blood shed across the shell ridden floor. The creature had stabbed him, right under his nose. The cold grasp of those inky tendrils came in contact with his holy shell. Instinctively he knew who they were from, but his mind had not yet caught up. 

Slowly, he was being dragged in. Into the depth of the piles of shells, nail still within his back, digging itself deeper. His mouth was being covered, he couldn’t breathe. Limbs were refusing to communicate. His mind getting hazier and hazier, it was telling him to sleep, go to sleep. Sleep. Go to sleep.

SleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleepSleep

S̶̡̺̖̠͔̰̳̲͈̳̣̳̻͋̇̍̈͐̑̿̎̈́̿̒̈́l̸̤̭̖͐̿͂̐̀̈̚͘ę̵̯̹͐ë̷̡̡̛͕͕̝͈͍͓̤͍̩̜̲́͌̋̈́̆̊̋̒͌͘͜ͅp̸̤͔͚͕͆͐͐͐̍́̎͌̇̈́̎́̅̕Ş̴̛̖͂͆́̌́l̶͓̬͖̈́̄̒̔̆̈́͘͝ě̴̮̦̩̹̽́͌̏͂̿̀͆̉̀̐͘ê̴̢̢̖͚̹̖̮̟̼̿͐͊͜p̴̭̮̦̲̩̘̤̓Ş̶̼͈̪͚̞̝̹̰̥̺̃́̑͛͝l̴̼͊̒́̀̎͑̈́̈́̕e̴̪̮͂͊̔̋̀̅͘͘̚͝ę̴̢̰̪̰̺̼̌͆͋̌̔͒͑̊̾̀̋̀̑͘͜͝ͅp̴̨̛͛̀̓̆͗͑̓́̒̄͌̓͝S̸̨̢̩̻͍̹̪̰̩̥͇̏̓͌́̉̀̌̆̈́̃̾̆̎̑̕l̵͍̤̻̺̝̘̬͚̎̊̈́̉̂̋̇̑͛̈́͗́͑̚ȩ̴̩̑̆̈́͂̇͌̔͆͊̋͘̚̚͘͠e̷̪̯̦͋͌͆̍̾͠p̴̨̭̭͒͆̃̈́̓͑̈͆̎̇̒̓͋̚̚S̶̨̛̯̘̭̺͉̥̰͇̭̯̲͔͓͇̓͆̍͋͑̀̂́̕͝l̷̛̛̥̬̰͇͖̀̔͋̏̊̆͘͘͝͠ę̵̨̱̱̙̦͇̦͐̓͒̃̇̿̌̂̈́́͘e̷̢̡̛̦̮̰̱̫̼̞̖̠̥̅͌̄͘p̸̤̟̻̭̯̝͍̱̤͂͒͜͠ͅS̴̢̢̡̤̖̥̳̰̳̞͔͚̓̈̋̍̾͜͝l̶̡̯̖̳͇̫̖͇͇͇̀̏́e̶̢̡͍͙̗͖̹̞͇̦͓̤͗̌͂̇̐̽̇͗̄͒̆̀͜͜e̵̡̗͌̓̀͊̈͗͌̏̓͂͛̆͠p̴̖̰͈͈͇͎̞̩̜̩̾̄̆̊̅̄̑͛̾͝S̸̨͓̖̲̖̫̞̖͈͑̋̅͘͠͠ͅĺ̸̛̯̹̞̭̰̳ḙ̷̭̞̗͖̙̱̏̿͑͂̐̄͝ë̸͚̇̑̔̐͝p̴͚̝͖͕̻̻̦̅̈́̾̃S̶̡̺̖̠͔̰̳̲͈̳̣̳̻͋̇̍̈͐̑̿̎̈́̿̒̈́l̸̤̭̖͐̿͂̐̀̈̚͘ę̵̯̹͐ë̷̡̡̛͕͕̝͈͍͓̤͍̩̜̲́͌̋̈́̆̊̋̒͌͘͜ͅp̸̤͔͚͕͆͐͐͐̍́̎͌̇̈́̎́̅̕Ş̴̛̖͂͆́̌́l̶͓̬͖̈́̄̒̔̆̈́͘͝ě̴̮̦̩̹̽́͌̏͂̿̀͆̉̀̐͘ê̴̢̢̖͚̹̖̮̟̼̿͐͊͜p̴̭̮̦̲̩̘̤̓Ş̶̼͈̪͚̞̝̹̰̥̺̃́̑͛͝l̴̼͊̒́̀̎͑̈́̈́̕e̴̪̮͂͊̔̋̀̅͘͘̚͝ę̴̢̰̪̰̺̼̌͆͋̌̔͒͑̊̾̀̋̀̑͘͜͝ͅp̴̨̛͛̀̓̆͗͑̓́̒̄͌̓͝S̸̨̢̩̻͍̹̪̰̩̥͇̏̓͌́̉̀̌̆̈́̃̾̆̎̑̕l̵͍̤̻̺̝̘̬͚̎̊̈́̉̂̋̇̑͛̈́͗́͑̚ȩ̴̩̑̆̈́͂̇͌̔͆͊̋͘̚̚͘͠e̷̪̯̦͋͌͆̍̾͠p̴̨̭̭͒͆̃̈́̓͑̈͆̎̇̒̓͋̚̚S̶̨̛̯̘̭̺͉̥̰͇̭̯̲͔͓͇̓͆̍͋͑̀̂́̕͝l̷̛̛̥̬̰͇͖̀̔͋̏̊̆͘͘͝͠ę̵̨̱̱̙̦͇̦͐̓͒̃̇̿̌̂̈́́͘e̷̢̡̛̦̮̰̱̫̼̞̖̠̥̅͌̄͘p̸̤̟̻̭̯̝͍̱̤͂͒͜͠ͅS̴̢̢̡̤̖̥̳̰̳̞͔͚̓̈̋̍̾͜͝l̶̡̯̖̳͇̫̖͇͇͇̀̏́e̶̢̡͍͙̗͖̹̞͇̦͓̤͗̌͂̇̐̽̇͗̄͒̆̀͜͜e̵̡̗͌̓̀͊̈͗͌̏̓͂͛̆͠p̴̖̰͈͈͇͎̞̩̜̩̾̄̆̊̅̄̑͛̾͝S̸̨͓̖̲̖̫̞̖͈͑̋̅͘͠͠ͅĺ̸̛̯̹̞̭̰̳ḙ̷̭̞̗͖̙̱̏̿͑͂̐̄͝ë̸͚̇̑̔̐͝p̴͚̝͖͕̻̻̦̅̈́̾̃S̶̡̺̖̠͔̰̳̲͈̳̣̳̻͋̇̍̈͐̑̿̎̈́̿̒̈́l̸̤̭̖͐̿͂̐̀̈̚͘ę̵̯̹͐ë̷̡̡̛͕͕̝͈͍͓̤͍̩̜̲́͌̋̈́̆̊̋̒͌͘͜ͅp̸̤͔͚͕͆͐͐͐̍́̎͌̇̈́̎́̅̕Ş̴̛̖͂͆́̌́l̶͓̬͖̈́̄̒̔̆̈́͘͝ě̴̮̦̩̹̽́͌̏͂̿̀͆̉̀̐͘ê̴̢̢̖͚̹̖̮̟̼̿͐͊͜p̴̭̮̦̲̩̘̤̓Ş̶̼͈̪͚̞̝̹̰̥̺̃́̑͛͝l̴̼͊̒́̀̎͑̈́̈́̕e̴̪̮͂͊̔̋̀̅͘͘̚͝ę̴̢̰̪̰̺̼̌͆͋̌̔͒͑̊̾̀̋̀̑͘͜͝ͅp̴̨̛͛̀̓̆͗͑̓́̒̄͌̓͝S̸̨̢̩̻͍̹̪̰̩̥͇̏̓͌́̉̀̌̆̈́̃̾̆̎̑̕l̵͍̤̻̺̝̘̬͚̎̊̈́̉̂̋̇̑͛̈́͗́͑̚ȩ̴̩̑̆̈́͂̇͌̔͆͊̋͘̚̚͘͠e̷̪̯̦͋͌͆̍̾͠p̴̨̭̭͒͆̃̈́̓͑̈͆̎̇̒̓͋̚̚S̶̨̛̯̘̭̺͉̥̰͇̭̯̲͔͓͇̓͆̍͋͑̀̂́̕͝l̷̛̛̥̬̰͇͖̀̔͋̏̊̆͘͘͝͠ę̵̨̱̱̙̦͇̦͐̓͒̃̇̿̌̂̈́́͘e̷̢̡̛̦̮̰̱̫̼̞̖̠̥̅͌̄͘p̸̤̟̻̭̯̝͍̱̤͂͒͜͠ͅS̴̢̢̡̤̖̥̳̰̳̞͔͚̓̈̋̍̾͜͝l̶̡̯̖̳͇̫̖͇͇͇̀̏́e̶̢̡͍͙̗͖̹̞͇̦͓̤͗̌͂̇̐̽̇͗̄͒̆̀͜͜e̵̡̗͌̓̀͊̈͗͌̏̓͂͛̆͠p̴̖̰͈͈͇͎̞̩̜̩̾̄̆̊̅̄̑͛̾͝S̸̨͓̖̲̖̫̞̖͈͑̋̅͘͠͠ͅĺ̸̛̯̹̞̭̰̳ḙ̷̭̞̗͖̙̱̏̿͑͂̐̄͝ë̸͚̇̑̔̐͝p̴͚̝͖͕̻̻̦̅̈́̾̃S̶̡̺̖̠͔̰̳̲͈̳̣̳̻͋̇̍̈͐̑̿̎̈́̿̒̈́l̸̤̭̖͐̿͂̐̀̈̚͘ę̵̯̹͐ë̷̡̡̛͕͕̝͈͍͓̤͍̩̜̲́͌̋̈́̆̊̋̒͌͘͜ͅp̸̤͔͚͕͆͐͐͐̍́̎͌̇̈́̎́̅̕Ş̴̛̖͂͆́̌́l̶͓̬͖̈́̄̒̔̆̈́͘͝ě̴̮̦̩̹̽́͌̏͂̿̀͆̉̀̐͘ê̴̢̢̖͚̹̖̮̟̼̿͐͊͜p̴̭̮̦̲̩̘̤̓Ş̶̼͈̪͚̞̝̹̰̥̺̃́̑͛͝l̴̼͊̒́̀̎͑̈́̈́̕e̴̪̮͂͊̔̋̀̅͘͘̚͝ę̴̢̰̪̰̺̼̌͆͋̌̔͒͑̊̾̀̋̀̑͘͜͝ͅp̴̨̛͛̀̓̆͗͑̓́̒̄͌̓͝S̸̨̢̩̻͍̹̪̰̩̥͇̏̓͌́̉̀̌̆̈́̃̾̆̎̑̕l̵͍̤̻̺̝̘̬͚̎̊̈́̉̂̋̇̑͛̈́͗́͑̚ȩ̴̩̑̆̈́͂̇͌̔͆͊̋͘̚̚͘͠e̷̪̯̦͋͌͆̍̾͠p̴̨̭̭͒͆̃̈́̓͑̈͆̎̇̒̓͋̚̚S̶̨̛̯̘̭̺͉̥̰͇̭̯̲͔͓͇̓͆̍͋͑̀̂́̕͝l̷̛̛̥̬̰͇͖̀̔͋̏̊̆͘͘͝͠ę̵̨̱̱̙̦͇̦͐̓͒̃̇̿̌̂̈́́͘e̷̢̡̛̦̮̰̱̫̼̞̖̠̥̅͌̄͘p̸̤̟̻̭̯̝͍̱̤͂͒͜͠ͅS̴̢̢̡̤̖̥̳̰̳̞͔͚̓̈̋̍̾͜͝l̶̡̯̖̳͇̫̖͇͇͇̀̏́e̶̢̡͍͙̗͖̹̞͇̦͓̤͗̌͂̇̐̽̇͗̄͒̆̀͜͜e̵̡̗͌̓̀͊̈͗͌̏̓͂͛̆͠p̴̖̰͈͈͇͎̞̩̜̩̾̄̆̊̅̄̑͛̾͝S̸̨͓̖̲̖̫̞̖͈͑̋̅͘͠͠ͅĺ̸̛̯̹̞̭̰̳ḙ̷̭̞̗͖̙̱̏̿͑͂̐̄͝ë̸͚̇̑̔̐͝p̴͚̝͖͕̻̻̦̅̈́̾̃S̶̡̺̖̠͔̰̳̲͈̳̣̳̻͋̇̍̈͐̑̿̎̈́̿̒̈́l̸̤̭̖͐̿͂̐̀̈̚͘ę̵̯̹͐ë̷̡̡̛͕͕̝͈͍͓̤͍̩̜̲́͌̋̈́̆̊̋̒͌͘͜ͅp̸̤͔͚͕͆͐͐͐̍́̎͌̇̈́̎́̅̕Ş̴̛̖͂͆́̌́l̶͓̬͖̈́̄̒̔̆̈́͘͝ě̴̮̦̩̹̽́͌̏͂̿̀͆̉̀̐͘ê̴̢̢̖͚̹̖̮̟̼̿͐͊͜p̴̭̮̦̲̩̘̤̓Ş̶̼͈̪͚̞̝̹̰̥̺̃́̑͛͝l̴̼͊̒́̀̎͑̈́̈́̕e̴̪̮͂͊̔̋̀̅͘͘̚͝ę̴̢̰̪̰̺̼̌͆͋̌̔͒͑̊̾̀̋̀̑͘͜͝ͅp̴̨̛͛̀̓̆͗͑̓́̒̄͌̓͝S̸̨̢̩̻͍̹̪̰̩̥͇̏̓͌́̉̀̌̆̈́̃̾̆̎̑̕l̵͍̤̻̺̝̘̬͚̎̊̈́̉̂̋̇̑͛̈́͗́͑̚ȩ̴̩̑̆̈́͂̇͌̔͆͊̋͘̚̚͘͠e̷̪̯̦͋͌͆̍̾͠p̴̨̭̭͒͆̃̈́̓͑̈͆̎̇̒̓͋̚̚S̶̨̛̯̘̭̺͉̥̰͇̭̯̲͔͓͇̓͆̍͋͑̀̂́̕͝l̷̛̛̥̬̰͇͖̀̔͋̏̊̆͘͘͝͠ę̵̨̱̱̙̦͇̦͐̓͒̃̇̿̌̂̈́́͘e̷̢̡̛̦̮̰̱̫̼̞̖̠̥̅͌̄͘p̸̤̟̻̭̯̝͍̱̤͂͒͜͠ͅS̴̢̢̡̤̖̥̳̰̳̞͔͚̓̈̋̍̾͜͝l̶̡̯̖̳͇̫̖͇͇͇̀̏́e̶̢̡͍͙̗͖̹̞͇̦͓̤͗̌͂̇̐̽̇͗̄͒̆̀͜͜e̵̡̗͌̓̀͊̈͗͌̏̓͂͛̆͠p̴̖̰͈͈͇͎̞̩̜̩̾̄̆̊̅̄̑͛̾͝S̸̨͓̖̲̖̫̞̖͈͑̋̅͘͠͠ͅĺ̸̛̯̹̞̭̰̳ḙ̷̭̞̗͖̙̱̏̿͑͂̐̄͝ë̸͚̇̑̔̐͝p̴͚̝͖͕̻̻̦̅̈́̾̃

He couldn’t see the light of the entrance anymore, the sea of shells nearly swallowing him whole.

Finally, he felt the blade pierce his torso. A piece of him was severed.

Ğ̸̡̨̫̘̟̟̟̪̤͙͓͇̝̘̈́͗̒̒̆̂̒͠ͅo̵͇̦̪͍̤̣̖̾͗̌̏͝ ̴͇̊̾̓̃̑͠t̵̢̡͔̖̦̥̪̹̀̑͂͌͌̾͆̉̌̿͒̕ö̶̩́͛̌͋̇̓̒̄͐̕͠͠͠ ̴̢̨̟̱̹̰͎̯͔̩̘͒̈́̓͑͛̈́́͠ͅś̷͚̲̺̯̟͓̠͚̥͛͌̀͌͛̅̓͛l̴̦͙͎̯̣͖͓̃̎͛̀̾͜͜͝e̷͙̎̇͋̄̈́̓͗̑̍͠͝͝ȩ̶̫̯̫̪͙͙̝̜̹̺͖̹́͝͠p̵̨̛̝̯͊̎͂ ̴̡̘̝̫̙̱̀̽̋̓̌̉̈́̊͋̎̚a̷̡̡̳͖͕̞̲̬̻̓̊ņ̶̱̖̻͈̗̆̊̒̇́̈́̇͒͌̿̈́d̶̡̫̱̭̰̯̭̪̩̉̽̀̆̿̈̆̾̕͠͝ͅ ̵͍̠͕̘̓̐̐̓͂̐̐̾̿͌͒̽͠͝d̶̠͓͔̲͇̻̪̙̬̺͋ͅì̵̡͇̗̦͉̜̼̼̟̮̙̪͛̂͂̊̐̇̔̄̽̏̚é̶̠̭̫͈̗̝̩̙͌̎͛͗͑͗̇͒̆͒́.̴̡͈̯̟̯̲͎̰͍̥̗͈̯̮͗́̚

Within the Abyss, there was this still empty nothingness once again. Infectiously eating away at the life that once permeated, resting all down to a slumber.

The shells coating the floor move, shifting.

Something crawls out of the shells, emerging as a black and white mass that illuminated the darkness. Blade in hand, writhing with a light that was beyond its understanding. Runes coated the small nail like a growth, spreading from the blade and to the creature’s arm and finally to a place that was out of view. But certainly did it feel it, the power. And most certainly did it despise this feeling. 

Only now did it struck me… How real this all was. 

Maybe the fictional reference in my head was getting to me, I didn’t-

My knees begin to wobble, nearly losing balance.

I- Didn’t mean to hurt the Pale King- No… I definitely did but. I wasn’t expecting something so violent. The voices they told me to and I just listened. I didn’t want this.

He is still alive… I’m sure of it. The feeling of his power was so much to bare, especially when being pressed down onto my shoulders. But even when consumed by… it, his power was still so immense. 

I finally fall to my knees, shakiness finally getting to me as I onto the many shells on the floor, staring beyond them. At the ones who instructed me. Who helped me and who took the king away. The ones that made me-

My eyes lock onto the tool at the thought, the very same accomplice that helped me in the act. Stabbing deep into the king's back, the source of all that apparent power, those glorious monarch wings of his. Through the blade I could feel what cannot be described, only that I had stolen a portion of that that immense light into my being. Lingering now as if it were my own. 

But all this power, it burns, scalding my insides. It didn’t feel right, wrong on every level. Thoughts suddenly flashed into my head again, images of my blade sinking deeper into his back, white viscous blood splattering everywhere. Ebony bile raises up my throat and I heave a black substance from out myself. Upon seeing it, I back away, frightened.

The Void it- it made me do it. I didn’t want to- All I wanted to do was escape, but they- it- No! My stupid fucking brain cant understand. It’s not made for this. Finally, I hit a wall, cold and dry. I lean against it, curling up. I can finally feel my breaths, how fast they were. How could I ever ignore them? How can I ignore a faintly beating heart within my chest now? Was it always there? 

I can feel warmth against my cheeks, starting slow but soon flowing down my face. Tears that were white, a glaring contrast between my skin.

Am I really in control of the void that makes up my body? 

…Is this what the Pale King feared…?