#partly for archiving reasons partly to distract the fandom at the moment lol

[xensilverquill]

Shade and Shell: Post-Embrace the Void Ending Epilogue

Summary

"It is because of Ghost that we finally have a future worth living for, and I refuse to step into that future without them. We will not leave them behind."

The Radiance has vanished, and Ghost right along with Her. Hornet and a newly-freed Hollow Knight (with the help of a few friends) descend into the depths of Hallownest to find them.

AO3 Link

---

For their siblings, they would ascend.

For their siblings, they would slay Her.

For their siblings, the ghost would become a god.

---

They were dead.

Or so they thought at first. For so long Her light had burned inside them, for so long Her screams had rattled in their shell. For so long the core of Her had been contained within them. They were the heart of the Infection, the seat of Her power as She ravaged the kingdom.There was no telling where She ended and they began, so entwined were they in suffering. What but death could cleave the Goddess from Her living cage?

Blessed darkness fell upon them. Cold seeped into their shell as they hit the floor with a heavy thunk . Even as the impact jarred them, the pain was a balm compared to all they had endured.

They lay sprawled there for what felt like forever and a moment more. Their breath came slow and ragged in the stale air, but still quiet. Nor did they dare to open their eyes or twitch so much as a claw. Too afraid to move and find this reprieve was only a dream.

Slowly, a dull throbbing made itself known. It beat in tune with their heart, between their eyes and in the socket where their left arm should have been. An ache as only those still among the living could feel.

Ah. Not dead, then.

Sliding their hand beneath them, they pushed themself trembling onto their knees. Around them, the central chamber of the Temple of the Black yawned wide and empty. Dust motes danced in the wan light. More flew up as they stirred, and they stared dumbly at the floating specks for another while.

A glance to their side, and they saw their cracked nail. Right where they had driven it into the ground an age ago, before they had submit themself to their fate and the Seal of Binding had taken hold. They grabbed a hold of the hilt and found the weapon still held true as they heaved themself onto their feet.

Every scrape and rustle profaned the silence. Their own footsteps deafened them as they hobbled forward, using the nail as a crutch. Thoughts still came slow and sluggish in their head, and they felt as if they were still stuck between the dreaming and waking worlds. Where thoughts failed, a single instinct drove them forward.

They needed to get out. They needed to see what they already knew and dreaded deep down.

Glowing runes sputtered to life and faded just as quickly as they passed down the corridor. The remnants of their chains clattered as they were dragged along. The quiet here pressed just as heavily as it had in their room, as if all the world held its breath in anticipation. They paused only to rest at the stone bench a few moments before continuing forward.

Their gaze held fast to the light of the exit at the far end. A breeze brushed softly against their shell. Taking in the fresh air in a long inhale, they shuddered slightly as the nearly-forgotten smells assailed them. Scent of stone and water, of loam and lichen. It had been so long since they had tasted the world beyond their temple and tomb. They might have wept to experience anything that was not tainted by Her.

Indeed they might have wept, if they had not sensed the presence of another.

The stranger’s head snapped around at their approach. They had caught her off guard, but even so her needle was drawn in a flash of steel. Instinct and years of training had them clutching their nail, ready to draw it in kind should she attack.

Dark eyes narrowed upon them as the breeze rustled at her faded red cloak. Though only a fraction of their size, her expression and warrior’s stance made her look prickly as a shardmite. Her face was pale and narrow and graced with long horns, so much like their own. Yet she smelled not of the Void but of spider silk and glowing fungi. The scent of Deepnest was soaked into her carapace and forever marked her as one of that barbaric tribe.

They knew this face, and as surprise dawned on hers, they realized the stranger must have recognized them, too. Even so, she did not lower her weapon.

“Come no further, Vessel,” Hornet commanded. Her voice held all the authority her lineage commanded. The timbre of it was so much like their shared sire’s that they obeyed in an instant, freezing in their path.

“By what sorcery are you freed from your chains?” She circled around them slowly. “Is it the same power that has doused the flames of Infection? Or has She taken your shell for Her own and come to complete Her vengeance at last?”

In a blink, the tip of her needle was up and at their throat. One quick thrust and they would be skewered upon it. Or perhaps she would drive it into the crack in their forehead and split them in two.

“This kingdom may be nothing but ruins, but nonetheless I will defend it,” she vowed, voice steady as she held their life on the end of her blade. “Be you the lowest crawler or the highest being, I will not allow you to befoul it.” She dug the needle in harder, lightly scoring their shell. “Well? Have you no voice or will to defend yourself?”

Slowly, they uncurled their fingers from the hilt of their nail until it fell from their grasp. As it clattered upon the ground, they brought their hand to rest open-palmed against their chest. They slid to their knees, and her needle kept fast to their neck through the motion. Kneeling, they were now of a height.

They drew in a breath, then out. In, out, in and out several times before a shaky growl fell from their mouth. They continued on in this way for a long minute before they did something quite impossible: they spoke.

“Not… enemy…” they rasped, their voice like a death rattle.

Hornet instantly drew back. The horror etched in the shadows around her eyes struck pain in their chest but was understandable. After all, had the King not declared that they would have ‘no voice to cry suffering?’ A vessel was to be naught else. And yet a god’s anguish could give voice to the very stones they stood upon. In that same way, a voice had been born within them.

“Not… enemy…” they repeated, breaking the spell.

“Hm,” she grunted as she composed herself again. Hornet sheathed her needle and stepped back, nodding curtly. “Then stand and explain yourself, Hollow Knight. If you are neither an enemy nor a beast possessed, then what has brought you forth?”

With an effort, they -- Hollow, they were Hollow -- rose. It was strange trying to keep their lanky shell upright without their other arm. They found their balance again only after a few moments of tottering. They turned their gaze back to the corridor from which they had emerged.

“Light… gone…” What a strange sensation it was, speaking aloud. The words scraped at their chest and throat, and each successive one was a little more difficult to utter. “Radiance… dead…”

Again Hornet appeared taken aback, but she did not dispute their claim. She too turned her away to peer at the outer vault of the temple.

“Difficult as I find that to believe, that would explain a few things. The clearing of the air, the fading of those veins, the silence that has fallen. She would never have willingly relinquished Her hold on this land, much less upon you.”

She turned to look upon them again, brow furrowed. “With Her end you are free, but who was the one to bring that end?” Her gaze narrowed further. “Was it you, knight?”

Hollow shook their head.

“Who then?”

They knew. They knew the answer, down in the deepest pit of their being. To speak it aloud would mean to acknowledge that terrible truth. Perhaps if they kept their silence, they could pretend to still be ignorant.

Near the end, they had heard the call. A summons that echoed into the depths of the dream realm, a challenge from one higher being to another. She had cried out in fury and joy as She had risen up to meet it.

Attuned, then bound, then gone. Dark swallowed light, and then everything else with it. No mere god, but a God of Gods. Mindless, consuming, the Void itself given form and focus. And at the heart of those shadows, their own little ghost of a sibling.

Then, just as suddenly, Ghost was gone altogether.

“Knight?” Hornet spoke again.

Something cold slipped down one cheek and then the other. There was the tip-tip sensation against their hand like falling rain. Yet when they looked down they saw that it was not the clear of water but the black of ichor. Hollow keened softly.

“Knight,” she said quietly,slipping her hand into theirs. “I need you to tell me what has happened if you can.”

They hated how they wept, how their shoulders trembled. It was not the place of a vessel to feel anything. Not anger, not sorrow, not pain. Those emotions were the root of their failure to keep the Radiance and the Infection contained. It was why Hallownest fell, why their sire was dead, and why their sibling had sacrificed themself to the powers of the Void.

“Sibling…” Their voice was a broken, reedy note. “Little… Ghost…“

“Take your time.” There was no judgment in her tone, only a gentle command. Hornet squeezed their hand. After a moment, they squeezed back.

“Ghost… one… with Void…” Hollow’s head slumped forward, and their tears flowed freely now. “Ate… the Light… ate… Her… ate… Ghost…”

The world swam before them. When their legs threatened to give out, Hornet braced herself against them to keep them standing. Hollow was grateful for her strength.

“Cannot… sense them… anymore… Ghost… gone… My fault…” They buried their face against her shoulder, sobs wracking their body. “All… my fault… My fault… My fault my fault my fault my fault my fault--”

“Stop!” In an instant, Hornet’s hands had come up behind their head. She grabbed tightly at their horns, and the pain brought them back into focus. Only when they had gone silent and their shaking lessened did she ease her grip. Still, she did not push Hollow away.

“Stop,” she soothed, letting go of their horns to properly embrace them. “You are no more to blame for what has happened to Ghost then you are to blame for what She did to this land. They made their choice, as you must make yours.”

Pulling back, she tipped their chin up until their gazes met again. “Do you understand me, knight? This is not your fault.”

It was a minute or two before they could do anything besides stare at her, and still the tears would not stop. With a shaky sigh, Hollow eventually nodded their head and averted their gaze. Now they were the one in disbelief. How could they not be to blame?

“You are not,” she repeated sternly, as if she could read their mind, “and while I do not wish to give you a false hope… I do not think Ghost is dead.”

Hollow snapped their head back to her. The question, though unspoken, must have been easy enough to read in their eyes.

“I have watched them from the moment they appeared on the road from the wilderness,” she explained. “There is no dream or foe or challenge they have not been able to overcome. Twice I tested their strength and resolve for myself, and they prevailed each time. They emerged from the Abyss itself without so much as a scratch upon their shell. Not even the Dreamers could contain the Ghost of Hallownest.

“All of this to say, I do not believe their life could be so easily extinguished, not even in the pursuit of slaying a Goddess.”

She nodded at Hollow. “So do not give into despair so easily, knight. Do not give up on them.”

In that moment, she appeared every inch like the Pale King to them. Unwavering, shining, and inspiring hope in them where there had been none moments before. They half expected Ghost to be conjured into existence then and there by her words alone.

And, of course, she was right. It chagrined them to know they had immediately jumped to the worst conclusion on Ghost’s fate and then promptly driven themself into a fit. Whatever had become of their sibling, wherever they had gone, panicking would not help them.

Hollow swiped at their face with the back of their wrist, black smearing a little across their cheeks. They nodded at her again, more firmly this time. They would not give up. They refused.

Once more she took their hand, and once more Hollow found themself grateful for their sister’s self-assurance. Sister… That would take some getting used to, but she could be nothing less.

Hollow took her lead without question or resistance. They were certainly in no fit state to lead themself. More to the point, they did not wish to be alone among the husks and abandoned highways of what had once been their home.

“Come,” she said. “There is nothing for us here but memories, and perhaps there will be answers in the town above.”

Hornet cast a last glance over her shoulder, and Hollow did the same. “I misjudged them. Ghost, I mean. They are a part of this kingdom, as much as you and me. As guardian, I should have kept a better watch upon them. Honor as much as duty demands that I help to recover them. By my needle, I will not rest until I find them.”

“To… gether…” Hollow agreed, nodding.

“Yes,” she replied. For the first time since they had met, something distantly like a smile crinkled at the corners of her eyes. “Together.”

Then, without another word, the two of them stepped out of the temple and into the crossroads beyond.

---

“For my sake and theirs, finish it.”

“Please, it doesn’t have to be this way! Let me help you!”

“There is nothing you can do, little one. I have failed in the sole task for which I was created. There is no redemption for one such as me, and I do not deserve it.” A sad smile, wreathed by orange light. “I am only sorry that this burden must fall to you.”

“No, please! Whatever happens, we can do it together this time! Please, don’t leave me behind again!”

There was no reply. Only those sad, possessed eyes locked upon theirs as they drove the nail into their chest for the final time.

---

Dust and wind greeted the two of them as they emerged in Dirthmouth. Hollow tried in vain to suppress a sneezing fit, so accustomed were they still to the dead air of the temple. Their convulsions nearly tipped them back into the well. Hornet, still hauling herself up with the chain rope, grunted slightly as she pushed them upright again.

“Your slight physique belies the weight of your carapace,” she sighed, though not unkindly.

They dipped their head by way of apology before offering a hand to pull her the rest of the way up. They relaxed in relief when she took it without hesitation before turning to survey the village ahead of them.

Their memories of the topside town were brief and faded. So much of Hollow’s life had been spent training their mind and body for the day they would fulfill their intended purpose. They had seldom ever left the palace, and the few times they had were always in the attendance of their sire.

Even so, they still remembered the little settlement being quite full and lively. Mothers with their grubs, shopkeeper hawking their wares from their doorsteps, travelers from near and far descending from the bridge, denizens from all over the kingdom milling about the stag station. Dirthmouth in its prime had fairly buzzed like the Hive itself. Now it stood empty and gloomy in the twilight, a mere handful of villagers to call it home.

One of many ghosts that would haunt them now, they supposed.

The few bugs that were milling about outside stared curiously at the pair of them as they approached from the well. If Hollow listened carefully, they could just make out hushed whispers. Something about how beautiful and lonely the pair looked, their resemblance to the silent traveler who had once frequented their dusty hamlet. The fine red mantle and fierce bearing of the shorter one, the haunted and scarred look of the one with the missing arm and the cracks in their shell.

Hornet made a beeline for the center of Dirthmouth. Near the old station was a single, dusty bench, and beside it was an older beetle of considerable years. His was an unbalanced, somewhat lumpy face, but a kind and open one. He glanced up at their approach, and brightened considerably when he saw Hornet.

“Ah, young miss!” the old bug greeted her. “Lovely to see you again! I’d started to think we’d seen the last of you.”

“Fondest greetings to you as well, Elderbug,” Hornet replied, bowing at the waist (with Hollow swift to copy her). “I am well enough, as you can see. How do you fare yourself of late?”

“Oh, well enough myself. Better than well, if I’m brave enough to let my optimism show.” He nodded to the buildings beyond and the bugs within them. “We’re a much livelier crowd these days, and we’re all the better for it, I think.” He glanced down at a little white bloom he held between his hands. “Funny how a soul never realizes how alone he’s been until he’s suddenly gotten himself a few friends...”

Immediately Hollow’s gaze was drawn to the little flower. Ten silvery petals upon a dark stem, surrounding a pale center that looked as soft as silkworm down.

Certainly not flora native to Hallownest, yet it struck them as so familiar. Where had they seen the like before? It took them a few moments to realize it was just like the flowers old Ze’mer had cultivated in her gardens. In their youth, they had once accompanied their sire to her mansion in the Resting Grounds. They remembered the silverfish knight presenting a whole bouquet of these blooms, the pride of her distant homeland, as a tribute to the Pale King.

“Ah, I see my little flower has caught your eye,” Elderbug laughed. “A gift from another traveler, though I haven’t seen them pass through here lately.”

He looked thoughtfully up at them for a moment before shaking his head. “Oh, but I’m forgetting my manners! Most know me as Elderbug, so please feel free to call me the same. Lovely to meet you, erm… Well, what might I call you , stranger?”

They were quiet for a long moment, tilting their head to the side before Hornet lightly nudged at their hip with an elbow.

“Hollow…” they replied, slowly and quietly.

“Ah, so you can speak,” Elderbug chirped before flushing slightly. “N-not to say that I assumed otherwise! It’s just you remind me so much of another bug, a pale traveler of few words like yourself. The same as gave me this flower, in fact.”

He glanced back at Hornet. “Oh, maybe you’ve been acquainted with them yourself? Short, quiet, a tendency to run off the moment one looks away? I would almost think the three of you family, the resemblance is so uncanny--” When he glanced between the two of them, he cut himself off and fell silent. “...Forgive me, but have I said something wrong?”

That cold ache filled Hollow’s chest again, and they looked away.

“... Not as such,” Hornet replied, her voice held carefully even. “Elderbug, I am afraid I bring tidings both good and ill. You see--”

They did not remain to hear the rest of what she had to say, nor did they care to do so. Another moment standing there thinking of Ghost and their weakness would get the better of them again. If they were to weep, it would not be in front of strangers.

Alone, they needed to be alone. Hollow paid little mind to where they were going. It did not really matter where so long as it was away . Perhaps if they walked far and fast enough, they would leave behind their thoughts altogether.

Their thoughts of the Radiance, of those who had been sacrificed to aid Hollow in Her imprisonment. Their thoughts of those who had died when those measures had failed, not least of all the Pale King. Their thoughts of Ghost, who for all they knew had gone to join their sire in death--

Whump!

As quick as a lantern being snuffed out, darkness surrounded them. The scent of damp soil clung to them, and everything was curiously muffled. It took them longer than it should have to realize they had fallen flat on their face into the dirt.

Exhaling softly and shaking the debris off their face, they pushed themself onto their feet again. They threw a slightly irritated expression at what had tripped them: a low, worn headstone.

Turning their head, Hollow saw there was a cemetery full of them. Headstones, family crypts, memorial benches -- a quiet little village of the dead and a grim twin to Dirthmouth.

“Take care where you step, young shade! The dead are troubled enough without you making a mess of their homes!”

The sudden shout among the quiet of the headstones made Hollow jump where they stood. Immediately they pulled out their nail, ready to strike--

Only to find there was no one there. Their head whipped around in tandem with their nail, but no potential assailant showed themself.

A light in the shadow of the nearby cliff drew their gaze. Sheathing their nail again, they ventured cautiously towards the glow. Within a minute or two they stepped upon the threshold of a door carved into the living rock. Runes marking a seal of containment flashed briefly before fading at their approach. Their fingers traced lightly over the arcane relief as they peered inside.

A few dozen candles illuminated what looked to be a natural cave in the cliff face. Their warm light gentled the gloom, turning it a velvety purple. White chalk lines on the floor depicted another set of runes in a peculiar swirl, ones Hollow recognized as a summoning circle. They scanned the wall, trying to make out anything in the dancing shadows.

Hollow nearly tripped over themselves again when two of the flames resolved into a pair of eyes. A portly bug, clad in a large shell cap and robes the same color as twilight, burst forth from the shadows.

“Well? Come in then!” she said, plopping herself on the opposite side of the circle. When Hollow merely stared at her, she chittered in amusement. “I’m not a bug of a highborn caste, my friend, but even I know it���s rude to lurk in doorways. Either come in or don’t.”

Hesitating a moment or two longer, Hollow eventually nodded and stepped into the cave. They sat when the other bug bid them, folding their legs beneath them to kneel on the floor. They tilted their head, their unspoken questions the stranger read easily enough.

“Little pale children such as yourself know me as Jiji,” she warbled. “Confessor Jiji by trade.” She waved a one-clawed arm in the air, little tendrils of shadow following wherever she swept it. “Mind you, that my services come with a price… Though nothing so dire as you seem to be thinking, haha!”

Hollow was indeed staring at her with furrowed eyes. What in the name of the blessed kingdom below was she talking about?

“Now tell me,” Jiji continued, “what goes on in the world beyond my little sanctuary? Time is a fleet-winged little vengefly, and she always seems to get away from me during my little naps. Which your stomping amongst the headstones woke me up from, by the way.”

Before they could even begin to think of how to respond, she tilted her head up and sniffed at the air. Her antennae twitched slightly, and she sniffed once more. For a long minute she continued in the same way. Hollow was beginning to think she had forgotten she had company when her shout made them tumble back on their rear.

“Ah! How clear and sweet the air is now since I was last awake!” She glanced at them with renewed interest. “That stench of regret coming from the lands below… gone!” Again she paused and sniffed the air.

“Hm, though perhaps not entirely. You certainly carry more than your fair share, but perhaps that’s to be expected.” She spread her arms in a gesture of invitation. “How about this then? In the face of such good news, I will forego the usual price for a reading. You seem like you’re in bad need of one, at any rate.”

Still rather confused as to her meaning, Hollow merely gave a slow nod.

“Now let’s see…”

Waving her arms again, Jiji began to chant low and ominously. Her arcane spell wove pulsed through the air. They could feel as much as see the summoning circle beneath them thrumming to life.

Hollow stood back and went rigid at the feeling of something pulling them down. Something clawing at their legs, up their back and around their neck. Oily black tendrils digging into the cracks of the shell between their eyes and pulling apart--

“Careful, careful, deep breaths now,” they could hear Jiji chiding them when the roaring in their ears finally ceased. They lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for air. Had they the energy, they would have batted away the claw that came to gently pat between their horns.

“Seems like you’ve let your regrets molder in that shell of yours for a bit too long,” she said, her tone oddly sympathetic.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think these are the sort my spells can help you face. No, your shadows still lie far below. Face them soon, young shade, before they rise up to reclaim you…”

Suddenly Jiji pulled back with a frightened little chirrup. Moments later, a needle sliced through the air where her head had been. All the candles were snuffed either in the ensuing breeze or were simply lopped off their holders. It struck the wall with a twang before going taught. Hollow saw the silvery flash of the filament as the needle was pulled back just as swiftly.

Craning their neck from where they still lay on the floor, they saw Hornet’s silhouette in the entryway. Again she struck such a likeness of the Pale King in her quiet, deadly fury. Fast as a darting lumafly, she leapt up and landed between themself and Jiji. Her needle came up to point directly at the bug’s trembling eyes in the shadows.

“Madam, I will thank you to go and make a charlatan of yourself with someone who is not my kin,” Hornet said archly. “Consider this your first and only warning on the matter.”

Hollow only caught a faint muttering in reply as the light of the bug’s eyes faded into the shadows. “Don’t have to tell me twice… Children these days… You offer a little kindness and they threaten to crack you open like a geo cache in return… No respect for anyone in my profession, none at all...”

As they stood, Hornet immediately came up to support them by shouldering under their arm. She said nothing as they left the cave. Hollow for one was grateful for a moment to breathe the clear air again. Even as they fled with relief from the strange bug’s abode, one question ran circles round and round in their mind.

What had she meant by the shadows below?

Hornet brought them to sit on one of the memorial benches on the side of the cemetery closest to Dirthmouth. Once they were seated, however, she thwapped them sharply between the horns with the eye of her needle.

“What were you thinking?” she berated as they rubbed the spot she had hit. “Wandering off on your own? Just because She is dead does not mean the rest of the dangers in this land are as well! If you must have space in which to take your own council, then I will respect that much, but I would have thought you had enough sense not to go prancing into the nearest fortune-teller’s parlor!”

They had nothing to say in their defense, and she gave them no room as she went on lecturing them. Hollow’s shoulders slumped as they glanced down. Then made to lower their head to show contrition, but Hornet only tapped under their chin to direct their gaze at her again. When they did, they found her expression had softened a little.

“Forgive me, knight,” she sighed as she put away her needle. “I should not scold you as if you were a grub caught in a mischief.” She took hold of Hollow’s shoulders and looked them over. “Are you hurt? When I saw you lying there, I feared the worst. And what possessed you to venture forth in the first place?”

Hollow considered telling her. Of how they had gone running from their own inner turmoil again, of how they had turned to the first bug who had offered them some sort of answer. They considered telling her the cryptic warning which Jiji had left them with, but what sense would Hornet be able to make of it that they could not?

In the end, they merely shook their head.

Hornet fixed them with a searching gaze but relented, stepping back. “Very well, I will give you time to think upon it. Do not misunderstand me: this discussion is far from over. Now we must think of our next move.

“Elderbug was… not pleased to hear news of our missing sibling.” She sighed again, and it was with an effort that she kept head held high and her posture straight. “Further he seems to know even less than we do of Ghost’s whereabouts. The last time they traveled through Dirtmouth was some weeks ago. They visited a number of the merchants here for what he guessed was an extended expedition below.

“We will find no more answers here. If we are to find Ghost, it is clear we must descend back into Hallownest."

---

In their youth, Hollow had few opportunities to travel beyond the White Palace. Their training had demanded their absolute attention and much of their time along with it. Hours upon hours spent sparring with the Great Knights, mastering the art of battle-magic with their sire, traversing the various obstacle courses designed for them by Monomon and Lurien. All their life had bent to perfecting themself in pursuit of that one purpose, as a leaf might be drawn into an eddy in a stream.

They usually spent the few free moments they had in the company of their dame and her lush retreat deep in the Greenpath. But, if they had to name the place they loved most in the world aside from the palace or the gardens, there was no question that it would be the Blue Lake.

Water the same vibrant blue of lifeblood spread almost the whole breadth of the cavern. The depths were so still and clear that one might have mistaken it for glass. Shrubs grew in clusters amongst old conch shells along the shore. Illuminating it all was a soft glow from the lake itself, giving everything the ethereal look of a dreamscape. It was at once a wild and serene place, untouched by god or infection.

The pair took a long, ambling path lengthways along the lakeshore. Hornet took the lead with Hollow following close behind. Little had been said between them since they had left Dirtmouth, but the silence was a companionable one. They had trusted her judgment -- trusted her , really -- from the first, and the few days they had spent traveling together only reinforced that.

Hollow picked up one tiny mauve conch as they passed by another cluster, idly turning it over in their hand. Smooth and cool as worn stone, yet so delicate that they could easily crush it in their palm if they wished. Like most of its fellows, it was a gentle pastel that soothed the eye. A few shades darker and it would have matched Hornet’s mantle.

Thinking of her, they picked up their pace until they walked alongside her. Hollow offered up the conch for her inspection.

“Hm?” She turned her head and stopped in her tracks, her thoughts apparently having been elsewhere. “What is it, knight?”

They brought the conch up again, under her nose this time.

“Ah... I see.” Another thoughtful expression passed over her face before she reached over. Falling just short of touching the conch, she glanced up at Hollow. “Is this for me, then?”

Hollow huffed loud enough to be heard this time. Why else would they be showing it to her?

“I will take that as a ‘yes,’ then,” she replied, eye crinkling just a little. She took the conch from them, turning it over between her fingers as they had.

Silence spread between them for a minute or two, and Hollow began to wonder if their gift was in some way lacking. Hornet must have noted the slumping of their shoulders, however, for she soon spoke again.

“My mother’s people,” she began, “drew their pride from their independence and their craft. Everything they ever wanted for -- food, clothing, even their nests -- they could either hunt or weave. Everything except--” She grabbed a fistful of her mantle to emphasize her point. “--the red dye the upper castes favored in their garments.

“The dye itself could only be produced from the shells of dead conches like this one. To produce even a small pot took thousands of shells and days upon days of boiling them in a noxious brew under crystal-light. What little Deepnest had to trade with the rest of Hallownest was given in exchange for the dye, and it was the tribe’s sole import.”

Pulling out a drawstring bag from beneath her mantle, she carefully stowed the conch within. She squeezed Hollow’s hand in her own for a moment, something that had become a regular gesture of thankfulness and reassurance from her.

“Thank you,” Hornet said. “The gesture is appreciated, knight. One can scarcely walk half a dozen paces in this land without meeting one memory or another, but… Not all such memories are a curse. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

She said nothing more as she continued on the path once more, but warmth bloomed in Hollow’s chest long after.

It took the better part of a few hours to travel from one end of the lake to the other. On her own, they knew Hornet could have traveled the distance with her needle-and-thread in a fraction of the time. That she did not do so Hollow knew was out of consideration for them.

Ever since they had been released from their bindings, they had felt weak, drained. No amount of rest or slowing their pace seemed to help, either. Not even the handful of Soul Totems the pair had come across in their travels could restore Hollow’s vitality

More and more they were beginning to realize there was something wrong with them. Something in them had been... damaged beyond the mere cracks in their carapace. Even in death, the Radiance still played Her evil game upon them. They could wield their nail little better than a novice in the art, and calling upon any sort of spell was like trying to moult a new shell. For kingdom’s sake, a drunk swarm of gruzzers could make a meal of them in this state!

Without Hornet by their side, they knew death would find them swiftly down here. Once again Hollow found themself thanking the higher powers that she was the one to find them first.

When their sister abruptly halted at the opposite end of the lake, they stopped just short of bumping into her. Hollow tilted their head at her a moment, confused. Then they followed her gaze to something tall and narrow that glinted in the ghostly light -- a lone nail thrust upright in the sand.

The two shared a glance before nodding and venturing forward to investigate. Hollow knelt, staring at their own cracked face in the polished surface. They carefully ran their fingers over the edge of the blade and found that it was still sharp. No signs of rust or tarnishing, despite its proximity to the lake. Whoever had left this nail here had done so recently.

Hornet had apparently reached the same conclusion as she gazed about the cavern with narrowed eyes. Her hand came to lightly grip the hilt of her needle.

“Be on your guard, knight,” she said quietly. “I suspect we are not alone here.”

“You’d be right, but there’s nothing to fe-- Ah!”

No sooner had the unseen stranger spoken than Hornet was off like an angry Hive soldier. By the time Hollow looked up, they saw only the flash of her mantle as she rounded a cluster of conches. They heard the scuffling of carapace on sand and muffled pleas for mercy (and what sounded suspiciously like the thwack of a needle to the back of a poor bug’s head).

By the time they were skidding around the corner with their own nail drawn, the fight was already over. Although, on a closer look, it seemed like it had been less of a fight and more of a pummeling on Hornet’s part. Hollow saw her trussing up a bug taller than she was with her thread. The bug himself was groaning quietly and sporting a dent or two in his shell, but was otherwise uninjured.

“Help me pull him,” she said shortly, thrusting the eye of her needle at Hollow.

Hollow snapped quickly to the order, wrapping a hand around the needle. Together, they managed to drag the stranger out into the open. Hornet pushed the bug until he was sitting upright before snapping the thread. She withdrew her needle, but the slight quiver of her mantle told Hollow she was still far from relaxed.

When the bug groaned and stirred again, Hollow patted the top of his head lightly in apology. They glanced up questioningly at their sister. While she likely knew best how to dispense with potential enemies they might meet on their travels, Hollow could not help thinking her approach was a tad excessive.

“If you value your life,” she said, kneeling and grabbing the bug’s chin, “you will state your intentions, quickly and clearly .”

Reaching out, Hollow gently tapped at her shoulder. Narrowed eyes and a slight shake of their head -- an admonishment.

“Do not give me that look,” Hornet replied, though the edge of her tone dulled for their sake. “Perhaps you and Ghost can afford the luxury of offering your hand before your nail to a stranger. That sort of softness is not in my nature, knight, and it would have killed me many times over in these long years that I have been alone.”

Her eyes closed on a sigh. “I do this to protect you as much as myself, you know. My people, my mother, our shared sire… I have lost them all. You and Ghost are my only kin now. And while I work to keep hope, I fear for whatever has become of them. If some foul fate befalls you as well, then I--”

“Erm, forgive me,” the stranger interjected, shrinking back a bit from Hornet’s glare, “but this seems a private matter. If you will allow me to explain, perhaps you can kindly release me and I can leave you to it?”

From the cold steel in her eyes, Hollow knew whatever she had to say to the stranger would be far from ‘soft’ in any sense of the world. Yet she suddenly paused and leaned in to squint at the bug, as if she were truly seeing him for the first time. Then comprehension bloomed bright on her face.

“I know you,” Hornet said, as much to herself as the other. “We met once before on the Howling Cliffs. I thought you some vagabond come to desecrate this kingdom--”

“And you tried to make me a pincushion for your needle then as you did now. Makes one regret laying down their nail...” Weariness weighed at the shadows of his eyes as much as his voice. It made Hollow think he had this particular discussion with strangers on more than a few occasions. “So you should also remember: I’m no danger to you or this land. Will you let me go now?”

“I suggest you do not make a habit of interrupting me,” she warned even as she nodded at Hollow.

They cut through the thread with the edge of their nail, hardly needing to be told twice. Hollow offered the bug a hand up. To their relief, he hesitated only a moment before taking it.

“Oh, this old shell of mine bruises much easier than it used to,” he sighed as he stood and stretched, popping parts of said shell back into place as he did so. He cast a cautious glance at them both, as if he thought they might pounce on him again, before he bowed slightly at the waist. “I don’t believe I’ve really introduced myself to either of you. My name is Quirrel. Formerly the assistant of Monomon the Teacher, currently an old scholar who has made a hermitage for himself upon the cliffs here.”

“My suspicions from our first encounter were correct then.” Hornet took the remains of the thread from Hollow (shooting them a bit of a sour look to see it cut to pieces). “We would make our own introductions, but if you have learned anything from your travels or retained your memories from your time with your mistress… Then I suspect there is no need.”

“You would be right on that count, princess.” It was not a boast on Quirrel’s part, but merely a statement of the facts. He turned to look up at Hollow, and he was quiet for so long they thought they might need to introduce themself after all.

“And you… You would be the Hollow Knight of old, if I’m not mistaken?” He laughed slightly when Hollow tilted their head. “If you can believe it, we were contemporaries, once upon an age. Though my memories are faded and I doubt we ever crossed paths, your name preceded you in the twilight years of this kingdom. There is still a likeness of you and the Dreamers in the heart of the city below us, I believe. Although...”

He glanced between the two of them, curiosity replacing caution. “One has to wonder at the sight of you walking from the old temple, or at how the pair of you crossed paths?”

“They are no longer bound to their previous duties,” Hornet answered, “and the knight is my elder sibling by our fatherline. Is that explanation enough for you?”

“It... leaves me with more questions than answers,” Quirrel replied haltingly, “but I suppose I should content myself with that. And perhaps that would explain why the sickness no longer lingers in the old tunnels… If I might be so bold as to ask where you two are going?”

“We go to seek out our kin who has gone missing below.” Her words became more curt and sharp as her patience waned.

“Little… Ghost…” they rasped by way of confirmation. “Lost… sibling…”

“Little? Sibling?” Again Quirrel looked between them, and Hollow saw the same epiphany on his face as they had seen on Elderbug a few days ago. Then, his eyes closed in delight. “You mean to tell me you are my little friend’s family?” The two simply nodded. “Ah, no wonder you reminded me so much of them. We are very well met indeed!

“And…” Some of the levity faded from his expression. “They have gone missing? How do you know? Why--”

“My siblings and others like them,” Hornet explained, sighing, “are intimately connected. It is not dissimilar to a hivemind, but they retain their own mind and will. I once thought them naught but empty vessels.” She closed her eyes tight, as if against a pain in her skull. “Ghost showed me the error of my ways in that regard.

“Under normal circumstances, the one can sense the presence of the other even over great distances. However, Hollow has felt nothing of them since they emerged from the temple, and it is our suspicion that Ghost is connected to the sudden uplifting of the Infection.” She stepped away and began to move toward the path again. “We go now to find what has become of Ghost, and save them, if need be.”

“Wait,” Quirrel said without scarcely a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll go with you.”

Hornet stopped but did not turn around.

“... Do you think you can? This is no pleasant stroll we go on. The way is long and likely dangerous. I can guarantee only my own safety and that of my siblings. If exhaustion or injury finds you, bug, then you will receive no assistance from me.”

“Nor would I ask for it,” he countered, undeterred. “Don’t forget: I traveled here and in the wilds beyond on my own for years. While I may have chosen to put roots down upon these shores, I’m not so settled in that I can’t travel a distance.”

“Why…?” Hollow asked quietly, staring at him. What cause did Quirrel, someone they had attacked only minutes prior, have to join them in their mission?

“My little friend and I went our own separate paths as we traveled this kingdom. Even so, our paths -- that is, mine and your Ghost’s -- intersected many, many times. I came to cherish their company, quiet and stoic as they were, as I wandered the mazes of kingdom and memory.

“They helped me find my way home, so to speak, when I was lost…” Quirrel reached for and, with an effort and a grunt of exertion, pulled out the nail driven into the sand. Brushing away the dirt, he leaned on the hilt as he stared up at them. “So now I wish to help them find their own way back.” He chuckled, a quiet nostalgia in his tone. “Is that reason enough?”

After a moment, they simply nodded.

“Quicken your pace then if you wish to keep up,” Hornet called over her shoulder, already moving again.

Hollow and Quirrel ran swiftly after until they followed on either side of her. She set a swift pace indeed as the Blue Lake receded behind them. Within minutes they were at the other end of the cavern, leaving behind only silence and footprints in the sand.

---

“So, if Hollow is unable to sense Ghost as they normally might… how are we tracking them, exactly?”

“Pass me that whetstone, and the oil as well,” Hornet murmured, making a grabbing motion with her hand without even looking up at him.

“You know, for someone ostensibly trained in the etiquette of the Pale Court, you’re quite... brusque.” Quirrel sighed and shook his head, but did as he was told. Smearing one face of the whetstone with the oil, he handed it to her. She began passing it over one side of her needle, pausing frequently to inspect her work before continuing.

“Such niceties have little use when said Court no longer exists,” she replied drily. “A well-kept nail is a far better deterrent for danger than nice manners.”

“Be that as it may, you’d be surprised what a kind word or deed can achieve,” he countered, “and you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Our course is not an ambling one, if that is what you are implying.” Hornet dragged the whetstone over the blade in a particularly harsh stroke. “During our visit to Dirtmouth, I questioned several of the villagers as well. I spoke with the elder first and learned that Ghost has set off from there some time ago. A merchant by the name of Sly had a bit more insight, but he insisted that his memory was troubled by an ailment that only Geo could remedy. When I suggested my needle was a panacea for addled minds like his, we had a bit of a quarrel. That fly is surprisingly gifted with a nail--”

Their voices were muffled but intelligible under the constant deluge in the City of Tears. Hollow stood a short distance from where they had taken shelter under an old iron awning. Rain tapped in a light but constant rhythm upon their carapace. Drops flowed together into rivulets that seeped into the crack between their eyes.

Fountain Square, like so much of the kingdom, had once been teeming with bugs of all sizes and castes. Even under the unceasing rain, Hallownest’s heart-of-hearts had been lively and cheerful. To the west, one would have found the guilds belonging to merchants and bugs of various trades, their warehouses and their workshops. To the east, the nobles caroused and lounged upon the riches of the kingdom, spending their days in pleasure houses and banqueting halls and all the luxuries none but they could afford. Somewhere above was Lurien’s high and lonely spire, from which the old Dreamer had watched over them all even in his final sleep.

What drew their gaze now, however, was the fountain immediately before them. While the waterworks themselves were not new, the statues were -- or at least they were to Hollow. Certainly they had been built after they began their seclusion in the temple. Over and over again, they read the plaque on the fountain’s edge:

Memorial to the

Hollow Knight

In the Black Vault far above.

Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.

This was most certainly one of Lurien’s commissions. The Lord Protector had always loved adding one architectural marvel after another to the city he had helped to build. As a mother to her grubs, its riches and grandeur had been his pride and joy. The entire capitol was, in its own way, a gift to the Pale King from his most loyal vassal. A most kingly gift indeed.

There was something odd to Hollow about staring up at a likeness of themself surrounded by effigies of the Dreamers. A mirror image carved in stone, when they had still been hale and whole and true of purpose. Their hand came up to gingerly trace the cracks in their head, and then down to the aching stump where their left arm had been. For a moment, they fancied they would like to trade places with the statue. Better to be stone than the broken thing of flesh they were now.

It was a beautiful memorial, a perfect monument to their failure.

“Knight, you will catch your death if you keep standing out there,” came Hornet’s call. “If you must stare broodingly into space, at least do so out of the rain.”

“Nothing wrong with taking in the scenery,” Quirrel added, “but maybe best to keep dry while you do?”

Hollow obeyed, walking slowly back before crouching down beside the two of them. It was just as well that they were not traveling alone. Caught in reveries such as they had been only moments ago, the vessel could have easily stood for hours out in the rain. What little energy they had was nearly impossible to muster for their own well-being.

Following orders from their sister was a great deal easier. When she handed over a roughspun rag to dry themself with, they took it without question. Not for the first time, Hollow realized how utterly lost they would be without her.

“As I was saying,” Hornet continued. “From the intelligence I was able to gather, Ghost’s most likely course would have taken them well below-kingdom. We can reasonably rule out the Hive and Deepnest, which narrows our search to the waterways and the Ancient Basin. With any luck, we will find some sign of them there.”

“All right, fair enough.” Quirrel nodded. “So are we to go together or shall we split up? There’s safety numbers, but dividing and conquering would help us cover more ground in a shorter time.”

“I will not leave the knight alone,” she said, evenly but firmly. “That much is out of the question no matter what course we take. Where they go, I will go, and vice versa.”

“That is another thing I was hoping to ask you about.” Glancing up at Hollow, he lowered his voice and continued. “You know they can’t go on this way for much longer. Their shell is cracked nigh in half, to say nothing of the state of their arm. I can see how much this traveling tires them as well. Vessel or no, your sibling is most certainly ill. Is there nothing we can do to help them?”

“I do not know,” she sighed, putting the whetstone away, “and what I would give for that knowledge. I have only the barest understanding of what the creation of a vessel entails, much less how to heal and nurture one. My sire guarded that knowledge jealously, and most records concerning them were lost or destroyed in Hallownest’s fall. Your former mistress’s archives might provide an answer, as she coordinated with the King on that project, but deciphering those texts of hers is beyond my skill.”

“Now on that matter, I might be of some use.” Quirrel brightened considerably. “Mistress Monomon wanted to ensure that the knowledge she collected would be preserved far beyond her own lifetime. Stone and spidersilk are invariably ravaged by time sooner or later. The preservation tanks were her solution to that problem. She taught me, among other things, how to decrypt them and--”

“Out, I say, out! Out, out, out!”

The high, shrill voice cut through the hum of the rain. As one the travelers turned to see a bearded bug burst from an alleyway brandishing a broom. Much to their collective bemusement, they saw another dark creature little larger than a vengefly flapping around his head.

It was difficult to say who was pursuing the other, but from their vantage point it seemed a fierce battle indeed. First the bug would swing their broom with all the aplomb of a gladiator with a nail, attempting to knock the creature out of the air. The creature in turn would then attempt to divebomb him with a raspy warcry (often accompanied with fireballs belched from their maw). Round after round they went across the square, trading yells and curses the whole while.

“Teach you to set fire to centuries-old artifacts!” the bug cried. “Do you have any idea the geo I spent on those?!”

“Meh!” came the retort, along with another gout of flame.

“What cheek! Come here and say that to my face, you little dung-eater!”

When the next volley of fireballs landed a little too close to their shelter, Hornet was quick to act. She grabbed a bundle of spidersilk from under her mantle, and she launched her needle. The tip shot through the small gap between the two, sending both duelists backpedaling in alarm. The bug instantly dropped himself and his broom to the ground, ducking out of range.

Before the creature could do likewise, however, Hornet’s spidersilk lasso caught and drew tight around it. Its wings were soon pinioned, and its snapping jaws thereafter. Its flailing struggles to escape only tangled it up further, and soon she had the creature firmly encased in the spidersilk.

“Now that is quite enough.” She let it fall with a whump! and a muffled squeal of pain onto the wet stones.

Quirrel, meanwhile, had gone to the broom-wielding bug’s side.

“Oh goodness gracious! Are you all right?” he asked, helping him to stand.

“Off, off, leave me be! Bad enough to be harassed by vermin without a stranger smothering me in concern like a doddering old auntie. I--”

The bug at first made to shew Quirrel away with a waving arm, but stopped when he saw Quirrel’s face. It was difficult to be sure in the gloom and the rain, but Hollow thought they saw his shell darken in a blush.

“... Oh,” he said, quieter. “It’s you.”

“Lovely to see you again as well,” Quirrel laughed, helping to brush the other’s beard and ruff back to rights. “My, my, a fighter and a relic seeker? You are a bug of many hidden talents indeed, Lemm.”

“I’m not really,” Lemm grumbled, picking up his broom and taking the opportunity to obscure his features.

“Modest as always.” Quirrel pat his shoulder. “But tell me -- how did you come to tangle with such a little beast?”

“When it came flapping into my shop like a rabid belfly,” the other grumbled. “It torched a good quarter of my inventory before I managed to chase it out.”

“My condolences, but I think the poor thing has had its comeuppance.” Quirrel glanced over in Hornet’s direction and sighed. “Do you have to tie up every bug who crosses your path like a boofly for the slaughter?”

“If you want to release him and deal with him yourself, then by all means,” Hornet replied flatly, holding up the wriggly bundle for his inspection.

The creature had yet to cease its struggling. Only its slight horns and witchfire-pink eyes were visible. Muzzled as it was, however, it was still yipping quite loudly.

“Before we go releasing the creature that just attempted to incinerate us,” she continued, “it might interest you to know that we may have found our first lead on Ghost.”

“How so?” Quirrel asked, expression perplexed.

“Take a closer look.” Carefully, she pulled back some of the silk so that they could better see the creature’s face. “You said you met with Ghost often in your travels, but you might also recall that they did not always travel alone.”

Quirrel’s brows furrowed before rising again. “Oh, I remember the little fellow now! Ghost’s little ward... or partner… or pet. I could never really tell. Nearly brought Fog Canyon down on top of us when he attacked a smack of ooma…”

“The very same,” Hornet confirmed. “The Grimmchild, or at least that was the name I heard whispered amongst that motley crew of arsonists that called themselves the Grimm Troupe.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the creature again. “What concerns me is that the child is alone. From what little I saw of the two together, they were inseparable. Ghost has been as much his parent as much as the sire who brought him to this kingdom. He never would have willingly left their side. That can only mean--

“Knight, what are you doing?”

In the time they had been discussing the captive beast -- no, the child -- Hollow had walked up and taken the wiggling bundle in hand. They said nothing as they angled the trussed-up Grimmchild so that he lay flat to their chest. Carefully they pulled at the spidersilk that covered the young one’s mouth.

“Nyeh!” In the flash of his glowing maw, Grimmchild’s fangs clamped down hard on Hollow’s wrist, instantly drawing the black blood.

“Knight!” Hornet cried out, moving to wrest him away, but Hollow swiftly stepped back and shook their head.

“Child… afraid... “

They glanced down at Grimmchild. Upon closer inspection, Hollow saw they were not the only one injured. Cuts covered every inch of what they could see of Grimmchild’s dark carapace. Some of the deeper wounds, scarcely healed, had reopened, no doubt a result of his struggling and flight from Lemm.

Yet the relic keeper with his broom alone could not have been the one to inflict such wounds. The cuts were too numerous to have been the work of any single bug with a nail, and pushing the spidersilk further down revealed similar cuts over every inch of his little body. Even the edges of his wings were shredded. And here and there Hollow found slick trails of black, as if Grimmchild had flung himself headfirst into a tarpit.

Whatever beast Grimmchild had tangled with, it was no creature of Hallownest.

“Child… hurt…” Hollow curled their upper body over him to shelter him from the rain. Slowly they knelt down even as he kept a deathgrip on their wrist. Keeping their arm wrapped around Grimmchild’s body, they simply rested there a moment and wracked their mind for a way to calm the child.

After a moment, they recalled how Hornet had spoken to them when they had first emerged from the temple. How she had turned to a firm embrace and soft words first to coax the truth from them, and then to soothe their troubled heart. Could they do the same for the little one now?

“Grimmchild… safe... “ Hollow rasped, as quietly as they could manage. “Will not… hurt… We are… friends… Safe… now…”

Hollow repeated themselves once, twice. And then over and over again, as if their words were a mantra that could dispel his fear and pain. They repeated themselves until their throat was raw and they could speak no more, rocking slowly back and forth.

At first, they thought their efforts were in vain. Then, slowly but surely, feeling began to return to their hand as Grimmchild’s grip slackened. When Hollow looked down, it was to see fat tears streaking down the little one’s pale, be-masked face. He began to cry in earnest then, burying his face and his sobs against their tattered cloak.

At some point the others had gathered around the pair, heedless of the rain now. Hornet stared gravely at them, and worry was written across Quirrel’s face. Even Lemm’s ire abated in the face of the child’s misery, and he cast his gaze to the ground in shame.

After what must have been half an hour, the child finally spoke, and when he did it chilled them all to core.

“Friend g-gone,” Grimmchild whimpered. “Big shadow… Ate them… H-Hurt me…” He keened softly. “Friend gone...“

---

Horror struck them through the chest, sharp as the possessed knight’s blade, to see Hornet rushing towards the battling pair. Striking the knight, driving the end of her needle into the crack between their eyes. She meant to subdue their shared foe, to give them the opening to strike and open the knight’s mind.

Yet even as she persisted, they could see her weakening. The spells upon the temple, meant to house those touched by the Void, choked every other living thing.

Including her.

They struck, but it was already too late. They had missed their chance, and she succumbed to the sleeping wards an instant later. And as her limp body struck the ground, her fate was sealed along with theirs.

---

“Knight.”

--leaving Fountain Square, parting ways with Lemm, Hornet speaking with Grimmchild, leading them on--

“Knight.”

--descending into the waterways, air foul-tasting, like the dread liquifying into bile in the back of their throat--

“Knight. Answer me.”

--down into the Junk Pit, the refuse of an age littered about them--

“Has what little sense you possess completely left you? I said answer me!”

--broken halves of a coffin--

“Hornet! Stop shaking them!”

--shreds of a mothwing cloak--

“Stand aside! Get between me and them again, and it will be your head on my needle!”

--a nail, beautiful and shining, discarded--

“To hell with your needle! Can’t you see you’re hurting them?! Get a hold of yourself!”

--a little vessel’s shell, perfectly split in two--

“A hold of myself?! We stand over Ghost’s broken shell, and you tell me to get a hold of myself?!”

--empty--

“If it means you won’t wound your other sibling in your hysterics? Then yes!”

--gone--

“...”

--dead--

“...”

--forgive me--

“... Help me gather their things. We are leaving.”

--it was not supposed to be this way--

“For pity’s sake, can’t you give them a minute?”

--I failed--

“That is an order. I will not repeat myself.”

--I failed Hallownest--

Distantly, they registered movement about them. Something fluttered down to settle between their horns, light yet warm and whimpering quietly.

--I failed our father and mother--

“Help me carry them.”

Something pushed under their arm, and then pushed up against their other side.

--I failed you--

They took one step and then another, though it was through no will of their own. Slowly, they felt themselves being moved forward.

--I failed us all--

Everything felt detached and unreal, as if they were a departed spirit looking back upon their body. It was as if the waking and dreaming worlds had suddenly switched places.

--I called, and you came--

Perhaps they did walk through a dream. Perhaps none of this was real.

--and now you are dead--

Perhaps they had never been freed, had never left the temple at all.

--because of me--

If this was a dream, Hollow prayed they would wake soon.

---

Their thumb rubbed over the bit of chitinous cloth in their palm. It crackled like a dry old leaf each time, and yet it remained as soft and subtle as silk. Over and over again they rubbed it as if they were a mad shaman trembling over their divination bones. They thought they might go mad indeed, might lose touch with themself again, if they ceased.

Hollow still sat where the two had deposited them when they arrived. Slumped over, clutching the tattered piece of the mothwing cloak they had. Ghost’s cloak. They shuddered, exhaling shakily.

Grimmchild whined softly from his perch on their head. They had scarcely moved from there since they had come up from the waterways, and they had not left Hollow’s side at all since Fountain Square. If they had been in any fit state to think, they might have wondered at the little creature’s sudden attachment to them.

“Nyeh,” he huffed. He licked a little stripe across their brow, a gesture to comfort them and himself. In their shared grief, the two were one.

“Here.” As Hollow stared at the floor, they saw Quirrel’s feet pad quietly forward. Then the rest of him came into view as he kneeled. He placed a tray on the floor upon which were two earthenware mugs. A steaming broth of some sort with a smattering of herbs filled them, and Quirrel gently pushed one into their hand.

“I know you probably don’t have to eat, as a general rule,” he said, offering Hollow a wan smile. “Still, warm soup is good for an empty belly and aching heart. Or so my mistress used to tell me.” Hesitating a moment, he patted their shoulder. “Drink some. It will help.”

“What… sooop?” Grimmchild piped up. He crawled down Hollow’s shoulder and sniffed suspiciously at the mug, then glanced up with a cocked head at Quirrel.

“It’s food, little one,” he replied amiably, gently tapping the rim of the other mug. “Come here and try it for yourself. I can’t imagine you’ve had a hot meal in some time.”

Flapping the short way down, Grimmchild perched over the mug and sniffed at it as he had the other. Sticking out his tongue, he took a tentative sip at the broth and started back at the heat of it. He smacked his fangs as he paused for a moment to ponder on the taste. Then, apparently finding the broth to his liking, he began to lap it up in earnest.

“Tasty!” he chirped, little tail thumping the floor.

“I thought you might think so.” Quirrel’s voice had warmed, as if the child’s enthusiasm had heartened him. “Crawlids like to go poking around this humble cottage of mine. They are spiny little blighters, but their meat makes for a surprisingly sweet and savory broth.”

At first Hollow made no move to eat. Quirrel continued to stare at them expectantly, however, and with a sigh they took a polite sip. When finally turned away to return to his seat at the table, they set their mug on the floor beside Grimmchild (who, having already finished his first helping, was all too happy to help himself to Hollow’s portion).

Across from Quirrel sat Hornet. She stared blankly into her own cup, steam curling up to trail along her face like the touch of a consoling friend. In the day it had taken them to return to the Blue Lake and Quirrel’s home, she had scarcely said a word. Nor had she seemed to care enough to acknowledge any of them beyond a brief glance or a small nod.

Whenever Hollow caught her looking at themself in particular, it was only to see her turn her gaze sharply away again. They could not decide whether it was anger or shame or grief they saw there. Perhaps it was none of those things, or perhaps all three at once.

Silence fell over them. The only sound was the lapping of the waves on the lakeshore outside, and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. They might have stayed like that for a long while yet, if not for Hornet.

“Am I a fool,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else, “to still believe they are out there somewhere?” Her hand fell to settle on a bundle of cloth in her lap bound in spidersilk.

“Even when I have seen their broken shell for myself, even when I touch it as I do now… I cannot bear the thought that they are forever lost to us.” Her voice quavered, a rare moment of vulnerability for her. “I cannot conceive of their end.”

“That is often the way of grief,” Quirrel said, reaching out to gently cover her free hand. “It’s… It’s a shock to all of us, Hornet, but you are not alone--”

“Spare me your platitudes, please,” she replied, but did not push him away. “I am well acquainted with grief. I have had a lifetime of it, and many more lifetimes of it ahead, it seems.” She laughed then, an empty and cheerless note. “What is one more loss?”

Quirrel had no reply for that.

“And yet,” she went on a few moment later, tone more thoughtful now, “it is not only a foolish hope that keeps me from accepting that they have truly died.”

Quirrel glanced up sharply at her. “... What do you mean?”

“It simply defies everything I have come to expect of Ghost,” she said, shaking her head. “I know every tunnel and cavern of this kingdom, from Crystal Peak to the Ancient Basin and every possible danger that lies in between. And, as I said to Hollow, Ghost has overcome every single one of them. Myself included.” She tugged the bundle that held their shell a little closer to herself.

“After we found--” She huffed lightly. “After we left the waterways, I went over every scenario I could possibly think of. How they ended up down there, who or what might have struck the killing blow. Yet no matter how I turn it over and over in my mind, I can find no answer.

“There was no struggle, no scent of Infection, no discarded weapon aside from their own. There was the black ooze that I know is the substance of a vessel, that lingers about their broken shell even after they have passed. That and their possessions were all that I could find at the scene.”

“That… is a little odd, when you put it that way.” Taking a sip of his broth, Quirrel propped his chin against a fist. “I witnessed the little traver’s fighting prowess myself on several occasions, not least of all their venture into the archives. It would have taken a warrior of considerable calibre to take them down -- or assassin of some sort.”

“I know the signs of both, and I found neither there,” she said, shaking her head. “Moreover, if the knight’s vision prior to their release was correct, then whatever has befallen Ghost coincides with the disappearance of the Radiance.”

“And both they and Grimmchild spoke of a shadow that consumed Ghost, didn’t they?” Quirrel pointed out.

“Yes,” Hornet replied, nodding, “and the knight explicitly named the Void in their vision. Further, before Ghost and I last parted ways, they had descended into the Abyss proper. I could sense some… some new power within them, as if that dark power was standing before me and Ghost was its chosen avatar. I had dismissed it as my own tired imaginings at the time, but now…“

She turned her head to look at Hollow, and Quirrel turned to look with her.

“Now I think there was some truth to my first impression. After all, who better to challenge a higher being than another of their kind?”

“Something larger is most certainly at work here,” Quirrel agreed. “But… that still does not tell us what has become of Ghost or where they have gone.”

“No, it does not. However, if they were host to such a power, then… Perhaps there is still some real hope for them, after all. I-- Yes, knight?"

From the moment Hornet had cast doubt on the finality of Ghost’s fate, Hollow has been watching and listening with rapt attention. Hope fluttered stubbornly and desperately against the inside of their chest like a lumafly in a lantern. And as she and Quirrel had spoken at length of Ghost and Hollow and the connection the two vessels shared with their birthplace, something else took root inside them.

An idea. A wavering shadow of one, but an idea nonetheless.

They had slowly gotten up and walked over, Grimmchild having eaten his fill and resuming his sleepy perch between Hollow’s horns. Hollow slowly brought their hand up to their chest, still holding the shred of Ghost’s cloak.

“Vessel…” they rasped.

“We… we are aware that is what you are, knight,” Hornet replied haltingly, as if considering whether or not they had gone completely mad.

“Vessel has… two parts…” they continued, holding up two digits to emphasize their point. “Shade…” They tapped lightly at the shadow of Quirrel’s mug as it shivered in the light of the fire. Then, Hollow pointed at themself again, this time at their head. “And… shell…”

Holding out a hand, they nodded at the bundle in Hornet’s lap. She hesitated for a moment, then another, before she carefully laid it out on the tabletop. Untying it, she pulled back the cloth.

The split halves of Ghost’s shell stared up at them from the table, and there was not a single one of them that did not flinch back from the sight. Exhaling shakily, Hollow gingerly traced a finger over one slight horn.

“This… shell… of Ghost…” They looked up and nodded at the window. “Ghost’s shade… still… out there…”

Slowly, they began to push the one half across the table towards its opposite.

“Bring… shade and shell… together…”

The jagged edges of the shell-halves met, until it was one piece once more.

“Make Ghost… whole... again…”

Hollow looked up at Hornet and Quirrel, praying that the pair of them understood. They did not think they had the voice or energy left to explain again.

Quirrel was the first to speak, slightly wagging a finger in their general direction. “That… is a very sound idea, actually.”

“As a theory, yes,” Hornet replied, a little more reticent, “but can it be done in practice?”

“Well, if what we know of the construction of vessels is true, then the shell is just that: a shell. Merely a place to house the shade, the piece of the Void that resides within. Or to imprison a vengeful Goddess, as was your case, Hollow.

“However, that leaves us two problems still to solve. The first is repairing the shell itself so that it can house a shade one more. The second is figuring out how to bind the shade to that shell once more. Which I suppose leads into a third problem: tracking down and capturing the shade itself.” Quirrel rubbed at his temple with a sight. “The Abyss is the most likely place to find them. We could venture down--”

“--and we would get ourselves promptly killed in the attempt,” Hornet cut in. “There is a reason the Pale King sealed it after his chosen vessel emerged. The power that sleeps there is older and greater than even She was. The Void… It devours and suffocates and takes you into itself, until you are no more than a shade yourself. It is a place hostile to mortals and higher beings alike. Not even one born of the darkness like Ghost could descend without some difficulty, and I will not allow the knight in their state to attempt the same.

“No. We must find some other means to retrieve Ghost’s shade. We cannot even be certain that it haunts the Abyss now. If there were only a means to have it come to us instead…”

Hollow’s gaze turned upward. They fancied for a moment they could see through the roof and stone all the way up to Dirtmouth. Another idea came to them.

“Jiji…”

---

“Go away! We’re closed!”

“Open this door, or so help me I will break it down!”

Seeking out Jiji’s assistance a second time was far more difficult than any of them had accounted for. Much to their chagrin (but, perhaps, not unexpectedly), she was still rather cross after the incident a week prior. Hornet, in both Hollow’s and Quirrel’s opinion, was doing absolutely nothing to help their case right now.

“I am beginning to think it was a mistake to let her go to the door first,” he sighed, massaging his temple with his thumbs.

Hollow huffed softly in agreement.

“Madam.” Hornet inhaled audibly, and her fingers shook considerably as she pulled them away from the hilt of her needle. “I find this situation as unpalatable as you do, if not more so. The fact remains, however, we have exhausted every other option.”

“Oh, how flattering!” Jiji’s response was shrill and loud, even muffled as it was by the door. “You come in unannounced in the middle of a reading, obstruct my business, threaten my life, insult my profession, and nearly make a pin-cushion out of me with that glorified letter-opener! And now that you suddenly have need of my skills, you have the gaul to come darkening my doorstep again, demanding that I help you!”

“... It is as you say, yes,” their sister replied several moments later, each word pulled from her mouth like thorns being plucked from her backside.

“Give me one good reason why I should help you,” Jiji continued. “Just one. Otherwise, remove yourself from my property before I set a curse on your carapace!”

“I can give you more than one.” Hornet reached out behind her, making a grabbing motion in Hollow’s direction. They gladly handed her the stinking sack they had been holding, and she promptly dropped it with a squelch in front of the door.

“Fifty, to be precise. Fifty rancid eggs, freely given, as a peace-offering as well as my… apologies.” Bowing stiffly at the waist, she cast her gaze upon the ground. “I struck out at you in anger and in a misguided attempt to protect my kin. I should have exercised better control over myself, most especially when I was in your home. I have acted in a manner shameful to both my caste and kin.”

She bent her back further at an angle that looked quite painful to Hollow. “So, I apologize for how I have wronged you, Confessor Jji. I apologize, and I beg for your assistance in this matter. I beg you, for my other sibling’s life and safe return may hang upon your favor.”

Silence followed. One minute passed, then another, and then another. Hornet did not budge an inch, keeping herself prostrated before the doorway.

Just when Hollow began to think they would be left there waiting for another age, the door opened. Jiji’s eyes were narrowed as she looked down at Hornet, but she sighed and rapped a claw once, twice between the princess’ horns.

“Apology accepted, child,” she said in a kinder tone. Then, swiping up the sack in her other claw, she began chittering excitedly. “And your peace-offering is most certainly accepted!”

She disappeared back into the sanctuary proper. Waving her claw, she gestured for the three of them to follow her inside.

“So, what can I do for you this time, my friends?” Jiji asked as she settled in her usual spot on the side of the summoning circle. She plucked a rancid egg from the sack, devouring it with gusto as they all filed in.

“Lovely home you have,” Quirrel commented as he took a seat on one side of Hornet, Hollow kneeling on the other.

“Why thank you, dearie.” Jiji wiped her mouth on the back of her claw. “It is a cozy enough little hole, which is all one needs in a home, really.” She waved at Hollow. “Nice to see you again, young shade. I might not be terribly fond of your sister, but for you, I’m always happy to be of service.”

Bemused as they always seemed to be by her, they were saved from having to reply by raspy shrieking from above. Grimmchild came fluttering in, the still-twitching corpse of a tiktik in his mouth, no doubt pilfered from the headstones outside. He plopped down in Hollow’s lap and promptly set to work cracking his lunch open for the soft meat inside.

Hornet, for her part, had the good grace not to rise to the jab from Jiji. Sparing another sigh, she took out the bundle containing Ghost’s shell. Carefully she laid the two halves within the summoning circle before looking up at her.

“The knight told us that you have a certain affinity for vessels like themself and the power that spawned them,” she said. “You attempted to help them deal with their ‘regrets,’ as you put it. If my suspicions are correct, you once helped my sibling Ghost in the same manner.”

“That is true enough,” Gigi said absently, reaching towards the shell pieces before apparently thinking better of the idea and pulling back. “That poor child…”

“We believe,” Hornet continued, quietly, “that you may be able to help us in restoring them. We have their shell, but we lack the ability to summon or capture the true essence of them.”

“Their shade, in other words,” Quirrel said. “Our hope is that by mending their shell and calling them, our little friend will become whole once more. We only need your help in summoning their shade.” He tilted his head at Jiji. “That is something you can do, right?”

“A good question.” Jiji leaned forward, propping her chin on her claws. “I might have once told you that I could, but…” She glanced over at Hollow. “Now I am not so sure.”

“Explain,” Hornet said sharply, before amending with, “please.”

“It is not for lack of a desire to help you, but rather a lack of ability,” she replied, shrugging. “For the little traveler, it was always simple enough to summon their regrets -- their shade -- within my little circle here. I would call the shade, they would take a nail to it, and then they would be on their way.

“When I tried to do the same with our knight here--” She nodded again at Hollow. “--I suddenly found that I could not. The Void is a wild and primal power, but unlike many higher beings it lacks a certain…” She waved a claw in the air as she struggled for the word. “Intent, I suppose is how I would put it. With the right wards and incantations, any reasonably skilled mage can bend it to their bidding and shape it as they wish.

“There was something… wrong when I reached for the power this time, however. The Void fought me, lashed out at me as well as the knight. There was a force of will, a united purpose that I have never sensed before.” Jiji shivered slightly. “And it let me know, in no uncertain terms, that it would cost me my life if I attempted to do so again.”

When Quirrel and Hornet looked over at them as if to confirm her story, Hollow merely shook their head and turned away. They did not care to linger on that memory. Of the feeling of being pulled out of their shell, of being snared in the maw of a beast whose size and power they could scarcely begin to comprehend…

“So you can’t help us,” Quirrel stated, deflating a little in his seat.

“I did not say that, dearie,” Jiji replied, shaking her head. “Merely that I can’t summon or keep hold of their shade as I once could. However, I might at least be able to point you in the right direction.”

Suddenly she scuttled over to a shadowy corner of the sanctuary. She returned with a small stone tablet, a brush, and a pot of white paint. Humming a little tune to herself, Jiji began scribing an intricate set of runes upon the tablet. When she finished, she made a little pss-pss-pss sound in Grimmchild’s general direction.

“Little one, might I borrow your flame?” she said, holding out the tablet. “These runes need drying.”

“Burn! Burn!” Grimmchild cackled, nodding and spitting a small gob of fire at the proffered stone.

“Thank you,” Jiji chirped, still holding the tablet as it smoldered. “Now, while I may lack the expertise you need, I do know of an old friend who might be able to help. If he’s still alive, at any rate.”

“Another fortune-teller?” Hornet asked archly.

“Careful,” the Confessor warned. “The Shaman is an amiable sort, but if you offend him, you will find it far more difficult to get back into his good graces than you did with me. His tribe has long had dealings with matters of soul and the Void.”

“Shaman… You do not mean the Snail Shamans, do you?” Scratching at his cowl, Quirrel cast a questioning glance. “Even in Hallownest’s prime, they were a scarce and scattered people. I cannot imagine they fared much better than the rest when it fell.”

“At least one survives,” Hornet said. She pointed at the floor beneath them. “Deep in the heart of the crossroads, one still conducts his practices at the Ancestral Mound.”

“Excellent,” Jiji replied absently, waving the tablet around to cool it. “Then give him my love when you see him. Here, young shade.”

She suddenly thrust it beneath their chin. Hollow drew back sharply, and Grimmchild skittered up to wrap himself around their shoulders and hiss with bared mandibles.

“Oh, hush,” she chided the little creature, gently poking between his eyes.

Meanwhile, Hollow’s eyes narrowed and they peered closer at the painted runes. Spells for tracking, spells for protection. At the center of the design, a remarkable likeness of Ghost’s shell. They took it in hand, lightly tracing over the runework with their thumb. To their surprise, little sparks of magic crackled against their carapace.

“Just a little talisman to help you in your search,” she explained. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but even a lone shade can be dangerous if they catch you unawares. The runes will glow when one is near, and it will offer some protection against them. Think of it as a summoning and binding circle that you can put in your pocket.” Jiji cocked her head and waved a claw. “Or wherever it is you keep your belongings.”

Inclining their head, they nodded after a moment and tucked it beneath their cloak.

“Thank… you…” Hollow said.

“Ah.” Jiji blinked before smiling. “And here I thought I was talking to myself. You are most welcome, dearie.”

---

“I am so sorry!”

“Ack! No, no, it’s fine. The hearts of the youth flame brightly indeed-- Ack! Ack!”

“Still, nearly getting a new acquaintance flambeed hardly ever makes for a good first impression… Oh, forgive me, your staff seems to be, uh… on fire. Here, allow me. I’m Quirrel, by the way.”

Well, this was awkward.

Hollow watched as Quirrel continued to make his apologies to the snail, who had nearly been fried not a few moments before. The shells and masks that littered the walls and floor around them had been charred to a black and crumbly crisp. Hollow clasped a pouting Grimmchild tight to their chest, smoke still wisping up from his mouth. Hornet, meanwhile, was in the midst of giving the child a lecture that would have made even their sire proud in its length and severity.

“--should be ashamed of yourself! I know you were raised in a literal circus and by Ghost, but that still does not give you license to act like a homicidal little clown with a penchant for arson. Attacking unprovoked is inexcusable, most especially when it could cost us much-needed allies--”

If they had dared, Hollow might have pointed out the slight hypocrisy in their sister’s tirade. However, they did not dare, and so they did not. The only fate worse than having to listen to her scolding was being the object of said scolding.

Even then they did not escape her attention, for she rounded on them a minute later, making Hollow jump.

“And you, knight! You insisted on taking the child in, and so he is therefore your responsibility. His crimes are your crimes as well, as much as if he were yours by blood. I have at least some idea as to how our father raised you, so what manners your charge lacks I know very well you can impart to him.”

She propped her hands on her hips and fixed them with a stern glare. “This incident shall not repeat itself. Have I made myself clear to both of you?”

Hollow and Grimmchild could do little but nod vigorously in return.

“There, there, I think they both get the point,” Quirrel soothed as he walked up alongside them. Still, he fixed a pointed look at Grimmchild and jerked his head in the snail’s direction. “Is there something you’d like to say to our new friend?”

Hollow walked up with him in tow, bowing slightly at the waist to the Snail Shaman. They gently nudged Grimmchild with a finger, who glanced up sullenly at the other and did not display so much as the appearance of contrition.

“... Sorry,” he huffed, looking away again.

“Water under the bridge and all that,” the Shaman wheezed, waving a hand. “You would not be your father’s son if you didn’t occasionally set total strangers on fire. And further in your defense, I probably shouldn’t have jumped out so suddenly to greet you.” He coughed again. “Ack! Spirits, but I’ll be smelling and shedding soot for at least a week...”

“As I was mentioning before, sir,” Quirrel chimed in, “your colleague up in Dirtmouth referred us to you for help. She said you might be more knowledgeable about--”

“Oh, my dear Jiji sent you?” The Shaman chortled excitedly. “How is the old girl? I keep meaning to pay a visit, but time has a habit of slipping away from me.”

“Something you both have in common, it seems,” Hornet commented dryly.

“She is well, and sends her regards.” Quirrel clasped his hands in front of him. “However, there are somewhat more pressing matters we should like to discuss with you…”

“Oh, by all means! Go on, my friend. First rule of engagement with us mages: never let us go off on a tangent, even (and especially) if you are trying to be polite.”

“Well, the situation is this,” Quirrel began. “You may or may not have met a traveler like our friend here--” He gestured at Hollow. “--only a bit shorter and with slightly lankier horns? In any case, we recently lost track of them--”

He and Hornet spoke with the Shaman, and Hollow took their usual position behind them to listen. Placing Grimmchild on their shoulder, they attempted to soothe his bad mood by stroking gently between his eyes with a finger. Grimmchild huffed in a manner that uncannily reminded Hollow of themself, but he leaned into the touch and began purring softly in short order.

Was this how Ghost would have been with him? Traveling together, Grimmchild exploring and hunting and flying this way and that along the path, Ghost their silent guardian and companion? Drying the tears and wiping the dust from the same little face they touched now? Braving the depths of Hallownest and the dangers within, overcoming them all together?

Well, all save one.

“Nyeh?” Grimmchild grumbled when Hollow paused in their petting, butting his head against the side of their face.

Hollow pushed back slightly, in fondness and apology, before resuming.

“Reattaching a lost shade to its vessel, you say?” The Snail Shaman hummed lightly as she leaned against his staff. He settled into thoughtful silence a while before nodding. “Yes… Yes, I think the spellwork for that would be manageable. Not easy, mind you, but manageable. If you can provide a sound vessel and the shade itself, I should be able to take care of the rest.”

“That is one of our problems solved,” Hornet pointed out, arms crossing, “but it still does not answer the question we need answered. Namely how to find and then how to contain the shade.” She sighed. “I am not ungrateful for the help you offer, but this is a matter of life or death for my sibling. We need answers -- a plan -- and we need them now.”

“Life and death… These things are but a circle bent back upon itself, dear spiderling,” the Shaman said, casting her a shrewd look. “It is inevitable that we all return to that point where we began. And then?” He laughed and rattled his staff lightly. “We begin again!”

“Please, spare me the riddles.” Hornet’s words came through clenched teeth. “Say what you mean, or say nothing at all.”

“... You and Jiji did not get on very well at all, did you?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Shaman.”

“They didn’t,” Quirrel whispered behind his hand, grunting a moment later when Hornet elbowed him none-too-gently.

“Let me speak plainly then,” the Shaman said. “Suppose, for a moment, that you’re a shade separated from your physical vessel. Where would you feel safest? Where would you feel most at home?”

After a pause, Hollow answered with, “In… Abyss…”

“Exactly!” he replied with a nod. “If you cannot find your sibling’s shade there, then you will never find them. And who better to track down a shade than another shade?”

“No,” Hornet bit out, stepping back until Hollow was behind her. “No, I will not allow it. I would sooner throw myself into a den of mawleks than let Hollow or the others descend into that pit.”

“But do we have any other choice?” Quirrel interjected, putting his hands up placatingly when she turned to scowl at him. “I don’t like this any better than you do. But Hollow, as a being of Void themself, has a better chance of finding Ghost and coming back alive than any of the rest of us do.

“We might find another way to bring them back, but then we might not as well. Hollow is far more capable than their appearance suggests, and I think you realize that too, deep down.”

He continued in a softer, pleading tone. “They need this, Hornet, for their own sake as much as Ghost’s. You have to at least let them try.”

“No! I will not lose them, too!” Eyes closing, she scarcely spoke above a whisper. “I will not …”

Silence spread between them again. When Hollow reached out to touch her shoulder, they could feel her body shaking beneath their hand. Then bent their head until their temple touched hers, exhaling softly.

“Ghost… saved me…” they murmured. “Saved… us all… Now… I must… save them…”

It was a long while before Hornet stopped quivering. It was longer still before she shuddered and gathered herself enough to speak again.

“You… You are right, of course.” Squaring her shoulders, she stood straight again. “All of you. For Ghost… For their sake, I will put aside my fears.”

Nodding, she narrowed her eyes at Hollow. “If danger comes stalking you and you do not have the good sense to run in the opposite direction, do not think something so inconsequential as death will keep me from hunting you down and giving you the scolding of a lifetime.”

“Will not… go alone…” they reassured her, squeezing their arm around her. “Will take… Grimmchild…”

“Burn!” Grimmchild chittered, letting loose a gout of flame to emphasize his point.

“I am not sure I find that as comforting as you intended.” She cast a bemused look at the pair. “Still, as you say, at least you will not be alone.”

“Not to mention the talisman Jiji gave them. It will offer them even more protection. And we can continue searching for a way to repair Ghost’s shell while they go shade-hunting,” Quirrel chimed in. “We can start in Mistress Monomon’s archives, as I suggested before. We have a plan now, my friends. All we have to do is see it through.”

“A more likely band I have never seen.” The Snail Shaman laughed again, motioning towards his small, boney abode behind them. “But, before you embark, perhaps you would care to take advantage of a snail’s hospitality, such as it is. Rest here for the night, as my guests.”

“Yes. Tomorrow, we set out.” Hornet nodded, her confidence and reserve returned to her.

“It is because of Ghost that we finally have a future worth living for, and I refuse to step into that future without them. We will not leave them behind.”

---

Hollow stared blankly at the nail proffered to them and shook their head.

“No, no, I insist,” Quirrel said, lofting the nail in his hands up a little higher. “No offense intended, my friend, but your own nail is well past its glory days. You’ve no time to repair it or seek out another. If you still have a fondness for it and we succeed in our venture, you can always find a nailsmith after.”

They cast a glance back at their own weapon. Their fingers wandered down to where it rested at their hip. Feeling the intricate designs upon the hilt and pommel, the cracks that veined the blade. While it was not Hollow’s dearest possession, they did hold some affection for the nail. It had been commissioned by their sire, a final gift before their internment in the temple.

“Until then, however,” he continued, placing the nail at Hollow’s feet, “make use of mine. It may be shorter than you are accustomed to and the balance will no doubt take getting used to, but better that than a weapon that could shatter at any moment. So, please. It would put us all more at ease where you are concerned.”

While they did not wish to part with it, Hollow could not deny the wisdom in the old scholar’s words. Where they were going, a brittle and broken nail would be worse than useless. Even so, they could not help casting a concerned look at Quirrel. Would he not need a weapon himself as he and Hornet traveled together?

“Now don’t worry too much about me,” he said, guessing Hollow’s unspoken question well enough. He shrugged slightly. “Our path is a far less treacherous one than yours. I will likely find another nail myself along the way, what with the corpses cast so copiously about.”

Laughing, he continued in a whisper and gestured behind him. “And as quick as your sister is to jab her needle at anything that so much as twitches in a way she doesn’t like, I doubt I will have much opportunity to use it.”

“I heard that.” Hornet’s voice was terse as she emerged from the Snail Shaman’s hut.

“What? I was merely complementing those warrior’s reflexes of yours-- Ow!”

“Hush,” Hornet said, giving him a jab in the shoulder as she walked up alongside. She held a rolled up bundle in her arms, holding it up one hand and making a grabbing motion with the other.

“Give me your nail,” she bid Hollow, “and kneel for me for a moment.”

With a final parting glance at the old nail, they handed the worn blade over and genuflected. Hornet tied the bundle to their back. Tugging once or twice to make certain that it was secure, she nodded to herself and stepped back.

“I packed a few things for your journey.” She counted the items off on her fingers as she listed them. “A whetsone and some oil for your nail, a skein of spidersilk, a waterskin, and a few vials of lifeblood. Grimmchild should be able to provide well enough for himself, but mind him so that he does not get himself or the both of you in trouble as you go.

“And... I would like you to take this as well.” Reaching up, she undid the pin that held her cloak closed at her throat. An old gray poncho lay underneath, which she spent another moment readjusting. Then, she draped the red cloak about Hollow’s shoulders, fussing with and smoothing the cloth before reclasping the pin.

“The Weavers who made this for me imbued the very fabric with spells of protection, of strength and swiftness,” she explained, fingers trailing on the hem. “It will be of aid to you in a fight should retreat not be an option. More to the point, the way below is often cold and damp. Even with Grimmchild’s flame, I do not wish to chance you getting a chill, knight.”

Their hand trailed up to their chest as they felt at the fabric. Soft and smooth, it flowed like water over their shoulders. An age must have passed since its weaving, and yet the stitching was as pristine as it must have been the day it was completed. Hornet had well cared for it, and it had served her well in turn all these years.

They remembered the stories she had told at the Blue Lake of the conches and of the dye and of Deepnest. The magnitude of her gift was not lost upon Hollow. Silently, they thanked every god above and below the earth that it was Hornet they had met outside the temple, that it was she who was their sister.

Wrapping their arm around her, they pulled her into a tight embrace. Hornet stiffened at first, then relaxed against them. She patted gently between their horns and sighed, a quietly fond note in her voice.

“Whether you find Ghost or not,” she said, “and whether or not Quirrel and I can repair their shell, we will meet again in Dirtmouth in a week’s time. Do not be late, or we will assume something has happened. If you have need of us, send Grimmchild to find us and he will guide us back to you.” She pulled back. “Do you understand?”

Hollow nodded.

As they stood up, they took Quirrel’s nail in hand and sheathed it at their side. By chance their fingers brushed along the tattered edges of Ghost’s mothwing cloak under their own; they had not parted with it since leaving the waterways. Hollow’s fist curled loosely in the material as they paused a moment in thought.

On a whim, they pulled the mothwing cloak out. With an effort they wrapped the strip of cloth once, twice, three times around the crack that ran from their temple to their right eye. Then, knotting it, they shifted the wrapping until it sat comfortable against their shell. It left them blind in their right eye, yet they also felt more whole and secure than they had in a long while.

The three of them walked together for the short distance from the Ancestral Mound to the funicular where the crossroads met the Pilgrim’s Way and Greenpath beyond. There they stood in silence, as if none of them were willing to be the first to go their separate way. In spite of themself, Hollow’s chest ached already. Strange, how they only realized how fond they had become of the two when it came to the moment of parting.

They bent at the waist towards Hornet and Quirrel -- a goodbye. From above Grimmchild fluttered down with an excited screech to take his usual perch on their head. Hollow took heart from his enthusiasm, lightly patting at the child when he sniffed at the new wrapping on their head.

“Until we meet again,” Hornet said, dipping her head. “Farewell, Hollow.” For a few moments more she stared at her sibling in silence. Then, without another word, she turned on her heels in the direction of the Greenpath.

“Good hunting, my friend.” Quirrel waved over his shoulder as he followed after. “If you run into Lemm again, give the old fellow my greetings and my love!”

Waving slightly in return, Hollow stood there watching them. Within minutes they were nothing but specks in the distance. Then, they rounded the corner and disappeared altogether.

A sigh escaped them, echoing up into the heights of the cavern above. Alone again.

Well, not entirely alone. With an impatient flapping of wings against their horns, Grimmchild made his presence known again. He fluttered in front of Hollow’s face, buffeting their face with the breeze.

“Go! Go now !” he squeaked. “Find friend!”

Indeed, there was nowhere to go but forward from here. Or rather, downward. So they took one step, and then another as they began their descent. Grimmchild flew ahead leading the way. Hollow followed in his wake -- Quirrel’s nail at their side, Hornet’s cloak wrapped around their shoulders, and Ghost’s mothwing fabric wound about their head.

Perhaps it was a fanciful notion, but Hollow began to think that, for all the growing distance between them, the four of them were not so far apart after all.

---

Black ooze slipped between Hollow’s fingers as they dipped their hand in the dark puddle. Slimy and murky yet oddly warm, like viscera bleeding from an open wound. When Grimmchild peered over their shoulder, they brought their fingers up for his inspection. One cautious whiff had the little one hissing with a vengeance, and they lurched to one side as he spat a hot gob of fire.

The site of Ghost’s disappearance was just as it had been a few days prior. Quiet, empty, and stinking of sewage and rust. It still made their carapace crawl and their head buzz to be in this place, but now they could look upon the scene without grief choking them.

To one side lay the halves of the coffin they had seen before. Made of stone and leafed with bright metal, Hollow could see signs of tarnishing along the surface. Scratches criss-crossed the edges of each half, as something had clawed its way out from the inside. And like everything else in the immediate vicinity, it was covered in Void-like ooze.

Chuffing lightly, Hollow rinsed their hand off under a small rivulet that pattered down from above. They had taken a detour through the waterways on their path to the Ancient Basin, hoping to find something that might further aid in their search for Ghost’s shade. Yet clearly there was no more to be gleaned here, and the trip had been a waste of precious time.

Or so they thought, until a screech from Grimmchild drew their attention again. He was fluttering in tight circles around something below him. Hollow’s gaze chanced upon a trail of ooze. A long, meandering trail leading out of the Junk Pit and to the rest of the waterways beyond.

“Friend that way!” he chittered when he came to land again, bracing his little claws on Hollow’s shoulder.

“Good… eye…” they praised him, scratching a finger under his chin.

Then, leaning forward and tucking their arm close to their side to keep balance, they began to run. Grimmchild tucked himself low against their shoulder, clinging to them as they ran. They set as quick a pace as they could without tiring themself, but even then their progress was achingly slow. Had Hollow still been possessed of their former strength, they might have made the journey down from the crossroads in a matter of hours rather than days.

Perhaps it was just as well their sire was no more. What would the Pale King think, to see his prized and precious Pure Vessel fallen so far? A wounded and magickless failure, broken within and without, everything but pure. No better than the rest of the flawed refuse -- their countless siblings -- he had left to moulder in the Abyss. What use was a vessel that could not perform its sole function?

When they looked back upon it all, their life read like the tragicomedies once played in the theaters of the capital. The sole vessel to survive the trials set by the Pale King, the only one deemed worthy to fulfill his grand design. Tempered like the steel of a nail, their training designed to hammer out every perceived flaw. For love of their sire they had suffered, had sought to make themself truly hollow. Yet it was because of that same love that they could never be hollow, that they would forever be impure and unworthy of their appointed task. They had been doomed to fail from the start.

And in the hour of Hallownest’s greatest need, when they should have suffered happily and in silence for the good of all, they had failed. For all their training and determination, they were still no fit cage for the Radiance. They had fallen before Her as dry grass before a wildfire, and their defenses had soon been burned along with the rest of the kingdom.

Was that when they had first cried out? Hollow’s shame, Her rage, and their shared pain threaded together into a single, discordant song. In a voice they should never have possessed, they had called for help from beyond the seals of the temple. Calling for someone -- anyone -- to take up this burden and succeed where they had failed so utterly.

So withdrawn were they within themself, Hollow scarcely noticed as they loped through the damp sewers. Nor did they pay much heed as they descended the great elevator shaft, slowing only to pick through the spike pits in their way. Soon the stony, yawning expanse of the Ancient Basin opened before them.

It was that call that had first summoned Ghost, they now knew. Hollow had felt their presence the moment they descended down the winding road from the Howling Cliffs. Every bug and beast afflicted by Her light was Her thrall, their eyes and claws becoming Her own. She had seen the little vessel, and so too had Hollow through the hivemind all the Infected shared.

Deeper still was the connection shared between the siblings. Something of an empathic bond, born of the Void from which they had both sprung. Every triumph and loss and wound for Ghost became Hollow’s own, and likewise their anguish had become Ghost’s. Neither time nor distance could diminish that connection.

Thus Hollow too had shared in Ghost’s quest, as both a present enemy and a distant observer. Trying to recall those memories since their emergence from the temple had been like trying to describe a stone at the bottom of a muddy riverbed. Even so, Hollow could still do so after a fashion. They remembered.

The friends Ghost had made among the villagers in Dirtmouth and the lone souls throughout the kingdom. The wonders of a dead kingdom they had witnessed, from the feral beauty of the Greenpath to the golden vaults of the Hive to the sparkling mines of Crystal Peak.

Saving some. Sly and Bretta and Zote. Watching others die. Myla and Tiso and Cloth. Meeting with Quirrel even in the most far flung corners of the land. Tangling with Hornet, time and time again. Raising the young child of a Nightmare King. Taking up the legendary Dream Nail. Taking the mark of the Kingsbrand. Meeting their mother in her overgrown gardens. Overcoming the perils of their father’s final dream. Descending into the Abyss, their birthplace. Ascending the pantheons of a foreign tribe, attuning themself.

Fighting Her, slaying Her. Then shadows, then nothing. From the moment of Her death, Hollow had become blind -- in all respects -- to their sibling.

The only thing Hollow had never been privy to was their sibling’s thoughts. Whatever their exact motivations were, Hollow did not think they would ever understand. The most they had ever gleaned were the merest impressions of emotion. Determined and stoic, angry and grieving, weary and lonely. Above all else, a selfless love that had left Hollow both humbled and terrified.

Twice now Hollow had abandoned them. Once when they had risen from their cradle, when they had left Ghost to rot in the noisome and writhing dark. Once again when the Radiance’s strength had proved too great, when all they had wanted was for Ghost to end their pain and shame. Twice now they had left Ghost behind to deal with the consequences of their actions, their failings.

No more.

When at last Hollow’s feet and thoughts had stopped running, it was before the threshold to the Abyss itself. The ooze-trail they had been following led within. Their hand trembled slightly as they steadied themself. Panting slightly, they pressed their temple against the cool stone. They stood there for several minutes, so long that Grimmchld began to keen and butt his head under Hollow’s chin in concern.

No more.

Hollow was not sure what made their body quake so. Exhaustion from the journey? Grief for what was behind them? Anticipation for the danger that lay before them? Hope that they might at last be able to make amends?

For what felt like another age, they were ensnared by their own indecision. If they stood here much longer, they thought they might not ever budge from the spot again. The only way out, as ever, was forward.

No more.

Hollow breathed in once, twice. Then, squaring their shoulders, they straightened themself. Grimmchild chittered with a start before coming up to hover beside Hollow’s head. A dry, cool breeze blew from the doorway, whipping at the cloth of their borrowed cloak and the mothwing fabric about their head. Instinctively, they drew the nail and gripped it tightly in their hand.

They stared straight into the mouth of the Abyss and walked inside.

Metal clanked underfoot as they walked out onto the uppermost platform. What little light that came from the doorway was quickly swallowed up by the dark cavern about them. The same blackness extended far below, so far Hollow’s keen eye could not make out the bottom. Grimmchild kept close, as much to guard them as out of his own fear of the place.

Not five paces from the end of the platform, Hollow saw something that gave them pause. A corpse, heavyset and adorned with the same goldish metal as they had seen upon the coffin in the Junkpit. Her arms and legs were drawn up close to her body in death-sleep. Black tears fell eternally from her eyes, and the same oozed out of a myriad gashes in her clothing and carapace.

Hollow probed at the corpse with the tip of their nail, sighing quietly in relief when it only sagged limply again. Her face they vaguely recognized as belonging to the foreign tribe, and the coffin must have belonged to her as well. The trail ended where she had fallen. What struck a louder chord in Hollow, however, was that her injuries were identical to the ones that had been inflicted upon Grimmchild.

Nor had Grimmchild forgiven or forgotten the one who had hurt them, and Hollow realized a moment too late that she had been the one to do so. Hissing low in his throat, the little one spit flame at the corpse. In a matter of moments, the body was burning like a bright torch against the darkness. The orange light of it gave the dark stone a bloody cast. It did nothing to ease their nerves, and it was not long before they found out exactly why.

Heat bloomed at Hollow’s side. Several moments passed before they realized that it had nothing to do with their impromptu pyre. Reaching into their cloak, they pulled out the talisman Jiji had given them. The runes upon it glowed as white and hot as a branding iron, pulsing like a heartbeat. Dread pooled in their belly as they slowly lowered their gaze and peered down into the Abyss.

Glowing eyes, numerous as the stars, stared unblinkingly back at Hollow. Inky black wraiths floated up with alarming speed from the pit. At first only a few at a time, then dozens upon dozens. Soon they swarmed like a flock of charged lumaflies. In moments Hollow and Grimmchild were surrounded by the shades, the doorway blotted out by their sheer numbers. For shades they were; they could be mistaken for nothing else.

Quickly stowing the talisman away, Hollow reached for where they had their dropped nail. The moment they found the hilt, they took it in a deathgrip and held it out before them. Grimmchild screeched a battlecry from between Hollow’s horns. Panic threatened to seize them, to make them easy prey, but they could not afford to lose their nerves now. Ghost was here somewhere among them, and they needed Hollow’s courage, not their fear.

Their eyes darted from one shade to the next. While they numbered in the hundreds if not thousands, each was distinct from the rest. The silhouettes of their horns marked each as unique, and Hollow searched frantically among them for one that looked like Ghost. While Jiji’s talisman and the flames might keep the shades at bay, it would not hold them at bay forever.

Nor, Hollow noted distantly, did the shades seem eager to come any closer. Rather they drifted in a tight yet sluggish revolution about the burning corpse. A niggling feeling at the back of their mind told them that the shades were simply watching them, as if waiting for Hollow to make a move. Not angry -- not yet -- only observing and judging in silence.

Once again, the lack of restraint they had upon Grimmchild proved to be a curse for Hollow. By chance one lone shade floated a little too close by for his comfort. Open his jaws wide, he flung himself off before Hollow could take hold of him again.

In an instant he had buried his little fangs in the throat of the unfortunate wraith. The shade convulsed and thrashed in his hold for a few seconds. It shuddered and curled in upon itself until it was only a roiling little ball of shadow. When Grimmchild let go, it slowly fell back into the pit.

No sooner had the fallen shade disappeared from sight then something rammed into Hollow. Wind and Grimmchild’s fading cry rushed past their ears as they went flying bodily into the darkness. Somewhere in the fall they lost their hold on the nail, but they had not the mind to mourn for it. They had not the mind for anything in that moment. Time ceased to have any meaning as they fell down, down, down.

Hollow thought they must have fainted at some point in the descent. For when next they were aware, they were sprawled upon hard, unforgiving ground. Every inch of them hurt , and their breath came quick and shallow. They could scarcely open their eyes, much less move their limbs.

When they did finally look up, they wished they had not. At first Hollow beheld only darkness, total and complete. Then, one great pair of slanted eyes opened. Then another, and another, another, until eight eyes bore into Hollow. To either side, they heard the sound of large claws scoring through solid stone. They felt as much as heard the growling from the creature, from the God looming above them.

Then, in a voice that chilled Hollow to the deepest core of themself, It said:

W̴̨̺H̷͎͕̗͎̞͈͂̀̃Ǫ̵̡̲̞͉͙̯̘͉̓̀͆̏̆̄͋ ̴̪̼͓̭̘ ̵͍̬̘̼͒D̵̞̹̲͇̚͝A̸̢͎͉͖̟͉̾̂͗̌͘R̴̪̭̭͎̝̭̳̮͌͂͘͝͠ͅĖ̷̫͌̑̈͛̏��̣͍͓̣̜͔S̷̨̛̞̮͓̆͌̽͛̏̍͘͝ ̵̧̢͈̱͚̝̯̞͇̝̇̀͘ ̷͙͈̟̤͒͆͑̽̐́̌͘͝Ḑ̶̣̦̥̩͐͒̋Ỉ̵̲̭̞̗͉̦͐͛͊̆̏͊̐̚͜S̴̺̖̼͇͇̐̋͋͌̉̏͗̓̚͝Ţ̸̘̻̪̟̓̾̍͑Ū̵̼̄̃̕̚͝Ȓ̵̬̤̗̫͕̘͊̐B̶̨̡̹̲̳͕̊̿ ̵̧̡̳͍͈̀͂̋̓͝ ̴̙̰̘̤̞͂̿̽̓̆̒̕͜O̵̦͙̖̥̭̬͕͛̇͐͆̇̌̏͜Ư̴̡͉̫̳̝̜̊͋̀͝͝Ȓ̵̛̬̘̳̠̱̳̮̭͚̍̈́̎̎͐̋̈́̓ ̸̡͖͇̻̮͖̤̩̻̟͛́̇̐̊͑͛̓͒͠ ̸̧̬̬̘͈͂̅͗͊̈̍̓S̵̢̯͖̈́̏L̸̜̘̱͙̽̍̄̇̊̎̏͠E̸̬̙̔̎̅͆̂̅̋͜ͅE̶͗͗͘͠ͅP̸̛̲̭͐͋̌̄̋̾͝?̶͔̝͈̆͂̎̽

---

“I didn’t want it to end this way,” they sobbed quietly. “I was supposed to find a way out for both of us… To save you…”

“I know,” their sibling said, quiet and soothing. Claws gently swiped their cheeks, wiping away their tears. “I know. But we can still save our sister and the rest of the kingdom. If we must fall, we will take the Radiance with us, once and for all. And whatever awaits us after, we will face it together this time.”

They could not stop weeping. Still, they drew in a shuddering breath and blinked up at their sibling, nodding.

“You promise?”

Their sibling’s arms enveloped them in a final embrace.

“I promise.”

Then, pulling back, their sibling lunged at the face of the trapped Goddess. Their claws buried into Her eyes, ripping and shredding and tearing. Only when the Light itself bled from Her ruined face did they cease. Pulling back the bleeding shreds of godflesh, their sibling cried out to them once more.

“Strike Her! I cannot hold Her forever! Strike well and true, little ghost!”

With a final shiver and great crack! , their shell gave way. Shadowy tendrils sprouted from their shade, lashing out at the dying Goddess. Once, twice, again and again, until the Light burst forth and shadow followed in its wake.

---

Had they not already been sprawled on their back, the sound of the God’s voice would have brought Hollow to their knees. Its words made the very fossil-stone beneath them shake. The voice grated against the inside of their head like a miniature garpede burrowing in their skull, tearing and shredding. They fancied that, were the God in the mind to do so, It could kill them with Its words alone.

The cold, stale air of the Abyss pressed in around them, and Hollow noted distantly that the sound had come from within rather than without. It was not entirely dissimilar from the way the Radiance had spoken when She had been housed in their shell. How terribly fitting, that the God of the Void, the Lord of Shades, should also have no true voice.

For several moments, silence fell between the vessel and the God that loomed over them. Hollow felt every inch a crawlid caught under a spider’s gaze. All eight of those great eyes bore into them, watching and waiting and pinning them in place. They scarcely dared to move, fearful that even the twitch of their thorax as they breathed would bring Its wrath down upon them.

Hollow slid their hand underneath them. A dull, burning ache pulsed through them as they moved. No doubt they had been injured in the fall, but they suppressed each gasp and groan of pain. Inch by inch, they pushed themself into a sitting position and eventually to their feet. They moved as slowly and quietly as they could, careful to make no sudden movements, as though they were under the gaze of a wild beast and not a God.

When at last they stood, they tilted their head up and kept their gaze upon the God. They did not dare to look directly into Its eyes, yet they did not dare to look away, either. To turn away would mean their death.

For Hollow knew this creature, knew It to be the very same shadow that had consumed both the Radiance and their sibling, knew It to be the Void itself taken physical form.

They had awoken the God, and It was angry .

W̵H̶O̷ ̶D̴A̷R̶E̵S̷ ̶D̶I̴S̵T̴U̶R̵B̵ ̵O̵U̸R̸ ̷S̶L̴E̵E̶P̴?̵ It growled again, and the Hollow’s heart stuttered in their chest. W̸H̷O̸?̵

This time the God’s question demanded an answer, and Hollow could not refuse.

“I am… Hollow...” they rasped, hand coming up to clutch at the front of their cloak.

The darkness around them shuddered and buckled. Fast as the flitting of a lumafly’s wings, it constricted around Hollow. Not enough to suffocate them, but enough to know that there was no escape. Cold, oily tendrils slipped around their arm and head, and they shivered as the God drew closer to them.

S̶C̸E̶N̶T̶ ̴O̴F̸ ̶W̸Y̸R̶M̶ ̷A̴N̸D̶ ̶R̷O̸O̵T̶ ̸A̶N̸D̵ ̸L̴I̷G̸H̸T̶. Its eyes narrowed to slits, and the tendrils tightened around Hollow’s body. S̵C̶E̷N̴T̶ ̵O̸F̷ ̵E̸N̴E̸M̸Y̸.

Dread settled like a rock in their belly, but that was a mild ache to sorrow and resignation that overtook them. This was it. This was how it was going to end. They would be consumed by the God, and Ghost would never be made whole again.

Hollow looked up once more, a last, empty act of bravery. If they were to die, then they would meet that fate with what courage they still had left. They would not turn away.

They stared into the glowing eyes of the God as they awaited Its judgment. By their light, Hollow could just make out the faint yet massive silhouette of the creature. A constantly shifting shape, with a myriad of arms and tendrils that vanished into shadow as quickly as they appeared. The only constant was the God’s mouthless face: eight eyes and a great crest of horns, the largest of which sprout like a crown at the top of Its head.

Two horns. Two horns that curved upward and inward, splitting further into two tines at their peak.

Something clicked into place in Hollow’s mind. A moment later, understanding reverberated through them like the peal of a bell. The shadow they had seen in their last vision of Ghost… It had not eaten Ghost. It was Ghost!

“Little one…” Hollow whispered. Their body shook again, but not from fear this time. Even as the tendrils began to wrap around their throat, they reached out with their hand towards the God. “Ghost…”

A tendril suddenly struck across their face. Their head snapped back, and they flew back bodily as the force of the blow. Beneath the wrapping, Hollow felt the cracks between their eyes lengthen and widen. When they landed some distance away with a sickening crunch! , they thought that their shell might have broken altogether.

Once again they lay prone, their body smarting from the impact. The rocks beneath them jabbed at their body as they struggled to keep conscious. They brought a shaky hand to their face, and it was several moments before they realized that they were still in one piece. By some miracle they were still whole, and by some miracle they were able to stagger to their feet once more.

A clattering beneath them had them looking down. Bile rose in Hollow’s throat at the sight that met their gaze. Hundreds upon hundreds of little white shells lay packed together, broken and empty. What Hollow had thought was their own shell breaking was the sound of their dead siblings’ shells breaking under their fall. What they had mistaken for rocks were the points of horns and crests.

Here lay the shells of the shades that had met them above, the children their sire had left to die in the Abyss. The entirety of the pit was their grave, and they were legion .

Scarcely had Hollow regained their footing and registered the horror before them when the shadows enveloped them once more. Again the tendrils took hold of them, again the eyes of the God pierced the black to glare down at them.

When It spoke, there was no mistaking Its fury. Yet Hollow registered something else in Its voice that they had not before. Pain, grief, and a weariness they could not even begin to fathom.

W̷Y̸R̵M̷ ̶A̸W̶O̴K̸E̴ ̵U̸S̶, the God hissed. W̷Y̵R̶M̸ ̴B̶O̸U̴N̶D̸ ̷U̷S̶.

Hollow struggled against Its hold with renewed desperation. Ghost had to be there, somewhere deep in the mass of Void that was the God. If they could only break free, if they could only make the creature listen, then Hollow might get through to them.

Yet there was no placating the God, no soothing the wounds and hatred that had festered for an age. They could do little more than pull in vain against the tendrils that grew tighter by the moment around them.

“No…” Hollow cried out, their voice muffled and distorted by the writhing shadows. Tears beaded at the corner of their exposed eye. “Please…” Even as they begged, however, the God paid little head to their words. It did not even seem to hear Hollow, such was Its single-minded determination to snuff out the threat it perceived.

N̴E̸V̵E̷R̶ ̵A̷G̶A̵I̴N̶.̷

Its tendrils encased nearly all of Hollow’s body now. They coiled up Hollow’s neck, under their chin and then up along the sides of their head to grasp tightly at their horns. Hollow’s heart sunk as they realized what the God intended to do.

Their tears flowed freely now, falling in black tracks down their face. The tendrils at their horns began to pull. Pain bloomed hot at Hollow’s temple, and they cried out. Little by little, the crack at their temple widened and forked.

“Ghost…” they whimpered. A final plea.

The God leaned in until their faces nearly touched, eyes narrowed to little more than pinpricks of white against black.

L̸E̸A̷V̵E̵ ̷U̶S̶ ̸T̴O̸ ̷O̶U̸R̵ ̷S̸L̴E̴E̷P̸.̸ It said. D̶I̵E̶ ̷N̶O̶W̶.̷

Then, with a final, harsh tug, It pulled Hollow apart.

---

The first thing Hollow was aware of was the voices.

Hundreds upon hundreds, murmuring quietly and running together and sounding like so much water pattering upon stone. They could make out no distinct words, but still they sounded close. The darkness, once so oppressive and full of monsters, now embraced them in comfort and safety. Hollow felt no fear. They felt little, save a sense of stillness and wholeness within themselves they had not possessed in a long, long time.

When they stirred, they met with some resistance. It was as if there was a wall about them, trying to keep them bound and tethered to one place. With a slight push, however, the wall fell and then broke free, up and away. Hollow looked down as they rose, distantly curious to see whatever had been binding them.

Their shell lay in two pieces upon the ground, starkly white against the grey stone. Black ooze puddled around it. A tattered piece of mothwing fabric was wrapped around one of the halves, and a red cloak lay draped over the other. Some distance away from the shell lay a nail, dented and cracked as if someone had thrown it.

Hollow looked at the remnants of their body for a moment or two longer before glancing up. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared back at them. By their light, gentle and curious now, Hollow could see the wavering shapes of the shades.

More than that, however, Hollow could hear them and, with some effort, could make out their words.

Who is it who is it who is it...

Smells like Light smells like Us...

Who is it who is it who is it…

Hiding in shell hiding in shell...

We feel them we feel them we feel them…

Who is it who is it who is it...

Hollow shook their head slightly. The voices of the shades were discordant and many, but not unpleasant. Indeed, to hear the chorus of them felt oddly like coming home.

I am Hollow, they said, answering the question they could feel from the others.

The gathered shades immediately began to chatter amongst themselves again.

Hollow Hollow Hollow…

We feel them we know them…

One shade hovered closer to Hollow. At first they moved slowly and hesitantly, as if they were still unsure of the other. Then, the shade’s silhouette wavered in what Hollow instinctively knew to be excitement and joy.

In moments the rest followed, floating over in a veritable swarm. They buffeted against and spun around Hollow in swirling motions, and there was little they could do but let themself be pulled along. The murmuring continued in earnest for some time, whispers of joy and love and reunion.

Lost sibling found sibling our sibling…

Here with us now here at last…

Hollow Hollow Hollow...

A small eternity later -- Or was it only a long moment? What did time really mean to a shade? -- another voice made itself known over the clamor. This one was not louder than the rest, per say, but there was a sense of power and individuality the others lacked. Hollow could feel it resonating through each of them, and they all turned as one in the direction of its call.

Hollow.

The crowd of shades parted, making way for the great shadow that moved amongst them. Those eight eyes fixed upon Hollow once more. Where there had been anger and hatred before, Hollow now only saw recognition.

Stripped of their shell, the God saw them for what they were now. Their friend, their sibling. Hollow. In turn, Hollow saw the God for what they were. The voice, the focus, and the guardian of the Void. Ghost.

Slowly, two great hands moved under and cupped Hollow’s shade. Cradled in the other’s hold, the God brought Hollow up until they were of a level with one another. Their faces nearly touched, but the God did not bring them closer together. Hollow could sense the hesitation in the other, the way they held Hollow as if the smaller shade might break at the slightest touch.

Hollow closed the distance between them. They wrapped their arms around the God’s face -- around Ghost’s face -- tipped their head forward until their temples touched.

Hollow could feel the shadows of their form shudder and shake then. Warm, shining tears slipped down their face. Ghost’s face mirrored theirs, their own tears falling as beads of light to the ground.

You suffered alone for so long, Hollow murmured. You suffered for us all. You carried all our hopes and our burdens. All because of my mistakes.

Ghost’s claws curled in closer around them, but they made no reply. After a while, Hollow continued.

I am sorry . I left you behind. I left you all behind, and still you came when I called and needed you most.

Hollow’s shoulders began quaking then. They wept in earnest then, keening a low and sad sound note that none but a shade could hear. No matter how they tried, they could not seem to stop crying.

There is no forgiving or atoning for what I did, for what I did not do. Even so, I… I will never stop trying. Starting with bringing you home.

Shutting their eyes and tightening their hold around their sibling, Hollow whispered, I love you, Ghost, and I will never leave you behind again.

The two of them remained that way for some time. Hollow did not let go, was too afraid that Ghost might disappear if their hold slackened even a little. And if this was yet another dream, they would sooner die than wake up again.

When they opened their eyes again, it was, to their surprise, not to the visage of the God. Tucked against their chest was only a little shade, trembling and tears streaking down their face. Hollow saw their own love and joy and fragile hope reflected in their gaze.

You promise? Ghost said.

Hollow laughed softly, shakily. I promise.

---

When they had both stopped weeping at last, neither was yet willing to let the other go. So Hollow held Ghost’s smaller hand in their own larger one. A part of them still could not believe that they had found Ghost, that their shade still walked beside them.

They stood together over the broken halves of Hollow’s shell. Ooze still creeped around the edges where it had been ripped apart and stained the bits of fabric that lay in tatters around it. Hollow still could not dredge up any particular feeling as they stared at what was, to all intents and purposes, their own corpse on the ground. Grief, pain, anger -- what were such things before the joy of finding their siblings again?

Even so, they could feel Ghost trembling slightly beside them. Hollow squeezed their hand gently in reassurance.

I’m sorry , Ghost said quietly, scrubbing at their tears with their free hand. I couldn’t… I couldn’t see you underneath the shell. None of us could. We… We were scared someone had come to hurt us again.

You have nothing to be sorry for, little one, Hollow reassured them. You did not know. There was no way that you could have known. I did not even recognize you at first. They huffed, a light and humorless laugh. And, in all fairness, I did not deserve any kinder treatment.

Now it was Ghost’s turn to look up at them.

Why do you keep talking like that?

When their little sibling spoke again there was some of the old power back in their voice, and their smaller size did nothing to diminish its effect. Hollow shivered slightly and glanced away, only to look at Ghost again when their hand was given a firm tug.

Hey. Answer me.

Ghost’s tone was stern and uncompromising, but they could hear the love underneath it as well. So much like Hornet, like their sire.

Because… is that not the truth? Hollow replied haltingly, unconvincing even to their own ears. When our sire and dame conceived us, I left the rest of you to suffer here with scarcely a backward glance. When I trained, I could not purge myself of those things that made me impure. When I faced the Radiance, I could not contain Her. When this kingdom had greatest need of me, I could not save it. When you came to my aid, I could do nothing to help you, and you could have very well died in the process. Nearly did on more than one occasion.

They sighed and bowed their head slightly, closing their eyes. They did not wish to see Ghost pass judgment upon them, though their sibling surely would.

So much has been lost, and I could have prevented it had I only been strong enough. Should I not be punished for all that I failed to do?

Silence filled the space between them. Hollow’s shoulders hunched closer together, and they began to fear the worst.

Then, a firm poke between their eyes, right along the glowing scar that even Hollow’s shade would never be free of. Hollow winced slightly but did not pull back. When they looked at Ghost again, it was to see their sibling leveling them with a slightly exasperated expression.

You’re really silly sometimes, you know that? Kind and brave and good, but silly, too.

…What? Hollow tilted their head at their sibling, decidedly nonplussed.

The way you keep trying to make everything bad that’s ever happened your fault, Ghost clarified, laughing. I think you’d try to take the blame for the rain in the City of Tears if you could .

Hollow sighed, shaking their head. Ghost, I am being serious…

So am I, they countered, sobering a little. If I don’t have anything to apologize for, then you don’t either.

Ghost gently patted Hollow’s cheek, and the sound was like a breeze buffeting a shadow.

Want to know how I see it? When our fath-- Ghost faltered a moment before continuing. When the Pale King made us, he took you away when you were barely able to walk, barely able to understand anything. When you trained, you worked harder than any person should ever have to. When you faced Her, you took all Her anger and power inside you and lived. When Hallownest needed you, you sacrificed everything -- your dreams, your future, and your life -- to try and save it. And the only reason you couldn’t help me was because you had already given everything you had.

Hollow stared at their sibling for a long moment, dumbstruck. They should have been countering every argument, denying every scrap of understanding they did not deserve. Yet to do so would have been to spit in the face of everything Ghost had done, and so they remained silent.

Hollow , Ghost continued, why did you come back for me? When you were released from the temple, you could’ve gone anywhere and done anything you wanted. But you came back for me. Why?

Again, they were at a loss as to how to respond. It was a minute or two before they found their voice again.

So many reasons came to mind, most concerning debts owed and sins to be atoned for. Yet they all lacked that certain ring of truth, and Hollow knew it was not the answer Ghost was looking for.

I came back because, they replied haltingly, because I had to. Because anywhere worth going or anything worth doing… is worth nothing unless you are with me. With all of us. They squeezed Ghost’s hand again. But mostly, I think, because I love you.

Good. Ghost’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Hollow had the distinct impression that they were smiling. Their smaller sibling bumped their head against them. Because that’s why I came back, too.

And, in spite of themself, Hollow smiled, too.

The two of them stood there for a while longer and talked at length. Mainly about how the both of them were going to make the climb back up. For shades were not made for traveling without shells, and yet shades without shells they were. As baffling (and more than a little terrifying) as Ghost’s powers still were to Hollow, they were soon forced to acknowledge the benefits of godhood.

You sure it won’t hurt you? Ghost asked, not for the first time.

One of the few benefits of having a vengeful Goddess in your head for an age , Hollow laughed, a little wearily, is that you learn to take such pain in stride. Moreover, I doubt you intend to try and tear me apart from the inside and take your vengeance upon every innocent bug within a few dozen leagues.

It was somewhat more difficult to slip back into their shell than it had been to slip out. It was not unlike trying to step into clothing one had outgrown, and it surprised Hollow how stifled they suddenly felt to be housed within a physical body again.

I am only concerned you will find the sensation of sharing a body... strange. With a shiver, Hollow was finally back inside. It is only a temporary discomfort, I know, but I would spare you any pain, however slight, if I were to have my way.

I think I’ll be okay. It’s just until we can put me back in my shell, right? Ghost said, their shade zipping in circles around the newly be-shelled Hollow. And maybe when they fix mine, they can fix yours, too. So long as we’re sharing a shell, I think I can hold us together. But after…

We will worry about that once we return, Hollow reassured their sibling. But for now we must go. We have lingered too long, and I fear that Hornet and Quirrel will begin to worry for us.

Ghost nodded. With an exhale like the wind upon the blasted plains above, their shade warped and expanded until they had the shape of the God once again. Carefully they hovered over Hollow’s shell, holding the two pieces fast together with their fingertips. Ghost’s claws pricked the porcelain-white material as they began to mutter a wordless spell.

Oily tendrils slipped along Hollow’s shell, black fibers sprouting within the crack and pulling the shell taut. It was an itchy, tingling sensation that they could only describe as being knitted back together. Cold air rushed back in their lungs as the black carapace of their body reformed, and once more they felt the stones beneath them.

When Hollow felt the tendrils of the Void dig in further, they braced themself. Their claws dug into the ground and they inhaled sharply as they felt Ghost’s power flow into them. The pressure built within Hollow, and they briefly feared they would burst apart again.

Yet their shell held, and in moments Ghost’s shade had disappeared within. Hollow simply lay there for a moment, trying to reorient themself within their body. They listened to the shaky rhythm of their heart, took one shaky breath and then another. Beneath their own frantic pulse they could feel a second one, thrumming and full of power and concern -- Ghost.

Hollow? they called quietly from a space at the back of Hollow’s mind.

I am fine. Hollow projected more confidence and ease than they felt, and on some level they knew Ghost was not fooled. Even so, it was up to them to carry them out of the Abyss. The worst was over now, and Hollow took heart from that. It was time to go home.

Moving their reanimated body proved to be another hurdle. Standing came with a shaky effort, and walking only after a hobbling fashion. But with each step Hollow became a little more familiar with their legs once more, and they began to stride more than they limped. They carefully flexed their arms and hands as they walked, faintly surprised to find they had two of each once more.

I can’t really fix shells , Ghost said at Hollow’s confusion, but anything made of Void is fair game!

Thank you, Hollow replied warmly, chuckling at the note of gleeful pride they sensed from Ghost. Your work would put the greatest master prosthetist to shame.

Before Hollow had gone very far, they stopped and turned. They felt rather than heard the shades of their other siblings clambering behind them. Hollow was not sure if it was Ghost’s power that allowed them to hear the voices of the shades now. Perhaps Hollow had simply learned how to listen for their whispering, as they had learned how to see Hollow beneath the shell. Their calls came quiet and mournful, and it made Hollow’s chest ache.

Miss you miss you miss you...

Don’t go don’t go don’t go…

Can’t follow can’t follow can’t follow…

Scared without you lonely without you lost without you…

Don’t go don’t go don’t go…

Reaching out, Hollow brushed their fingers over the nearest shades. The little floating silhouettes pushed against them, quivering in the wan light from above.

We will return for you, little ones, they said. We will return and mend your shells and take you to see the world above. For this kingdom is still great and beautiful even in its ruin, and it is yours to inherit.

We’ll come back, Ghost chimed in. Go back to sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.

Once, twice, three times the host of shades circled and bumped against Hollow. A farewell, a promise to wait, a plea to return soon, all in a single gesture. Each dark silhouette curled in upon itself in turn, becoming little more pinpricks of darkness as they sank into the scattered shells that surrounded them. With a collective sigh, the shades disappeared and Hollow and Ghost were alone in the dark.

Though they did not remain alone or in the dark for very long. Far above them, a red light flared to life. Hollow flinched at the sudden illumination after the long dusk of the pit. They had no respite even after that, for almost as soon as their eyes adjusted a small dark shape came streaking out of the darkness. It struck Hollow square in the chest and fell, winded and arms flailing, on their back.

“Grimm… child…” they wheezed dazedly, bringing a shaky hand to pet the little face pushing itself against their own.

“Found you!” the child squeaked. He looked a little ruffled (and covered in no small amount of ooze) but thankfully none the worse for wear for his brush with their siblings. Then, sniffing closer at Hollow, he looked questioningly at the vessel. “Found… friend?”

Nodding slowly, Hollow brought a finger up to tap at their temple. “Friend… here…”

Grimmchild cried out in delight, nuzzling against them in earnest and wiggling like an overexcited little grub. Though they were not sure the child could sense it, Hollow felt a shock of joy in answer from Ghost. And as Ghost could not do so themself, they held Grimmchld in a fond embrace, scratching under his chin and nuzzling back.

A few minutes later saw three of them climbing the long way up together. Ghost fairly thrumming with excitement in Hollow’s shell, Grimmchild seated between Hollow’s horns, and Hollow carrying them all. Somewhere along the way they found Quirrel’s nail again. Hornet’s cloak was miraculously still in one piece around Hollow’s shoulders, albeit now covered in a spattering of black stains.

When they approached the door, Hollow paused to catch their breath. They stood in the little island of light cast upon the walkway. They stood and waited for… what exactly, they did not know.

What’s wrong? Ghost asked, nudging at Hollow’s mind. We’re going home, aren’t we?

“Home now?” Grimmchild piped up, batting his wings against Hollow’s head.

“... Yes.” Once more they began to walk forward, more assured of themself this time, and into the light. “Home… we go…”

---

The closer their small party got to Dirtmouth, the more Hollow realized there was something different about themself now (and not merely because their sibling-turned-God was currently sharing a shell with them). Hollow felt it in each long stride, in the leagues that fled behind them. Their fatigue and exhaustion, which had been near-constant companions since they had been freed, no longer nipped at their heels. Magic sung in their blood as it had not since the Radiance had taken possession of them. Whatever sickness She had brought with Her was no longer there.

They were alive, they realized. Scarred and worn, but alive.

Is that your doing as well? Hollow had asked when that particular revelation dawned upon them.

Don’t look at me, Ghost replied in the mental equivalent of a shrug. Fixing arms and legs and gluing shells together is about all I can do. A pulse of anger, though not directed at Hollow. Makes me wish I could kill Her all over again, though. She made you hurt like that, didn’t She?

Yes, they replied, but I am not the only one with grievances against Her. More to the point, I think you settled the score several times over in slaying Her. Pardon the expression, but I believe you can give up the… ghost , on that matter.

That got an exasperated groan out of Ghost, as they had hoped. Grimmchild threw them a curious look when Hollow chuffed a quiet laugh. Hollow only shook their head and waved him off. Before their little sibling could properly disown them for the pun, Hollow rounded the final bend in the crossroads.

The old well shaft rose above them. An errant breeze lightly rattled the chain rope that led upward. Watery light from the surface filtered down in a halo. And there, sitting in the pool of light leaning against her needle, was Hornet.

Hornet! Ghost piped up, fairly thrumming within Hollow’s shell.

They saw her first, but it was scarcely a heartbeat later that their sister saw them as well. Her head snapped up at their movement, disbelief and relief flashing in her eyes. Then she was up on her feet and sprinting towards them. She covered the short distance with alarming speed, and only Hollow’s arms coming out to catch her kept her from bowling them both over.

Hornet had not even stopped skidding before her hands were on Hollow’s face. She turned their head to one side and then the other, up and down. Her fingers moved deftly over the crack between their eyes, over the black-stained and tattered edges of the red cloak. After a few moments her shoulders relaxed and she sighed so quietly that Hollow thought they might have imagined it.

Then, fixing Hollow with a glare, she gave them a firm rap between the horns with her fist.

“What does a week mean to you, knight?” Hornet said, holding up her fingers. “Seven days -- we agreed to meet back here seven days from the morning we set out. Could you not have at least sent Grimmchild if you knew you were going to be late? Or if your concept of time is that lacking, then I think an introduction to a clock and a calendar are in order!”

“Only gone… few days…” Hollow groused as they rubbed at their horns.

“A few days? You have been gone for nearly a fortnight!”

Hollow glanced up sharply. They knew the trip down to the Abyss had been significantly slower than the return journey, but had a fortnight truly passed in their absence?

Time is… funny down there , Ghost supplied, a little sheepishly. Sometimes it goes slower or faster. And sometimes it just… isn’t. Doesn’t exist, I mean.

We shall keep that in mind for future trips, then, Hollow sighed, turning a penitent look at Hornet.

“Sorry…” they apologized, somewhat lamely, to Hornet. “Made you… worry…”

“By our sire, if you were not my sibling…” She shook her head before reaching over to stroke gently between Hollow’s eyes, and Hollow leaned into the touch with a pleased sigh. “It is over and done with, I suppose. I am glad for your safe return, knight.”

Then, after a minute or two, she asked in a quieter voice, “Did you find what you were looking for? Did you find… them ?”

Hollow nodded, slowly. Pulling back slightly, they brought one hand up to their temple and the other to their chest. From deep within themselves came a low humming, a sound better felt in their carapace than heard with their ears. It was a thrum of such power, only a God could have been its source. Hollow and Hornet both shivered.

“Ghost… is here…” they explained at the alarmed question in their sister’s face. “With us… Holding us… together…”

“Holding you together?” Hornet echoed. Her eyes narrowed as she re-examined their face, focusing on the crack down their face. “I see. I am under the impression you ran into far greater trouble than you are telling me.” The look she gave them would have made a rabid mawlek run away whimpering. “And that you did not send Grimmchild to fetch us when you found yourself in said trouble as I instructed you. Am I correct?”

… Is it too late to turn back? Ghost asked, only half-joking. Ascending into godhood and devouring an all-powerful Goddess of light for the sake of kin and kingdom was one thing. Facing Hornet’s righteous fury, on the other hand… Well, what was a God to an angry sister?

“Yes…” Hollow admitted, standing up again. They gestured at their person, emphasizing the two arms they now possessed. “But I… am fine… now?” They held their palms outward in a placating gesture. “Will explain… later…”

“Yes, you will,” Hornet replied sternly before promptly taking their sibling’s hand. “Come. The others will be anxious to see you as well.”

“Others…?” Hollow asked, tilting their head as they were dragged along. (Grimmchild, having wisely chosen to stay out of the way of their sister’s scolding, fluttered ahead of them.)

“Our own journey -- mine and Quirrel’s -- ended up taking us farther afield than we anticipated,” Hornet explained as they walked up to the chain rope. “Suffice to say, that Ghost made a number of friends in their quest, and we met many of them along the way. When we told them of Ghost’s plight, they were moved themselves to assist us in whatever way that they could.”

Another frisson of excitement from Ghost. Their memories of their sibling’s journey and the farflung souls they had met came to mind, and it was easy to understand their happy anticipation.

They will be happy to see you as well, I am sure , Hollow teased.

She jerked her head upward as she took hold of the rope. “They have gathered in Dirtmouth, awaiting your return.”

She ascended quickly then, and Hollow followed suit. With both their arms intact, they now moved almost as swiftly as she did. What had once taken several minutes of slowly worming their way upward and left them exhausted afterward, they could accomplish in scarce seconds.

Distantly, it crossed their mind that they might even be able to spar with their sister. Old habits died hard. They itched to fight as they once had with nail and magic, and their father had required them both to train in the same brutal regime. If there was one common love Hollow and Hornet had (aside from Ghost), it was the challenge that only a worthy opponent could bring.

Dirtmouth’s cool, dusty wind buffeted against them when they emerged above the well. Curious, how familiar and welcoming that breeze was becoming to Hollow. Then again, perhaps it was the family and friends that awaited them that made it so.

True to Hornet’s word, there were many bugs awaiting them in the square, far more than they could recall seeing during their last visit. They spotted a number of beetles, including a great old stag muttering and glancing about (Hollow wondered if he might be blind). The fly shopkeeper was perched atop a comically large nail, occasionally offering a word to a look-alike trio of even larger warriors. Even Jiji had ventured out of her sanctuary, talking animatedly with a portly and jewel bedecked slug.

They’re here. Ghost’s tone was awed, almost disbelieving, but happy as well. They’re all really here...

At the edge of the group closest to the well, they found Quirrel. He was seated next to Lemm, holding the old relic seeker’s hand in his own as Lemm leaned against his shoulder. Elderbug sat across from them, still holding that delicate flower and wearing a pensive expression.

“I know I’m only an old fool given to worrying,” Elderbug sighed, “but I can’t help feeling something must have happened to them. If the little traveler of all bugs has fallen down there, how can we expect that poor, sickly elder sibling of theirs to fare any better?”

“Have some faith, my friend,” Quirrel soothed, calm and unflappable as ever. “While they might not look it, Hollow is as much a fighter as Ghost. They are made of the same stuff, so to speak, and I have every confidence they’ll find each other.” At a screech from Grimmchild, Quirrel started and glanced up.

“Speak of the devil!” the pillbug cried happily. “Hollow! Grimmchild!”

Quirrel run at and hugged them as Hornet had, although he at least had the good grace not to nearly bowl them over. Looking up at Hollow, there was that same question in his eyes as well.

“It is good to see you again, my friend,” he greeted before stepping back. “How was the journey? Did you find them?”

“Fine…” Hollow said, nodding. “Found them… You… repair shell…?”

“Yes, and not a moment too soon, I think,” Quirrel said, glancing up and down and getting a better look at Hollow. “Though judging by the state of you, you’ve had quite an adventure, too!”

“Which they will tell us about at length at a later date, I am sure,” Hornet said as she walked up beside them.

Hollow stiffened a little where they stood, glancing up and off to the side… Only to see the rest of the gathered bugs staring at the new arrivals. Canting their gaze down again, they saw Hornet walking towards the crowd.

“Now that they have arrived, there is no reason to delay a moment more,” Hornet said, glancing over her shoulder. “I will see to the final preparations. Quirrel, tell them--”

She stopped herself suddenly. “That is, if you would be so kind as to inform Hollow of what we have learned in brief, that would be… appreciated.” Their sister ground out those last words as if she were attempting to swallow glass. Shaking her head, she set off at a brisk pace towards the square.

“She is… trying,” Quirrel supplied at Hollow’s nonplussed expression. “To be a little more friendly, I mean. Surprised the trying hasn’t actually killed her yet, but try she does. I suppose it’s what you would call an adjustment period for her. We’re all having one lately, I think.

“But I’m getting off topic. After we parted ways with you and Grimmchild at the crossroads, we made our way to my mistress’s archives. We found quite a bit of material on vessels and the making of their shells, but nothing on the repairing of said shells.

“So, lacking any other firm leads, we decided to go to the source, so to speak. Vessels, as I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, are the children of the former rulers of Hallownest. Their shades may be of Void, but their shells are quite Pale.”

At this, Quirrel cast a wary, searching look up at Hollow.

“It was… Hornet’s idea that we go to Queen’s Gardens. It was the Pale King’s power that allowed pieces of the Void to be grafted to shells, but it was the White Lady that made them and gave them substance. We had hoped to find some means of mending Ghost’s shell through her, or that she might have the power to mend the shell herself, but…

“She refused.” His brows furrowed as he glanced away. “Or I think she did. Her sight had apparently gone some time ago, and I think her mind must have followed not long after. We could barely make sense of her ramblings. Something about one old enemy gone only to be usurped by another, that this kingdom was well and truly doomed, her Wyrm was gone and their mission had failed. She did not even recognize Hornet in her state.”

Swallowing hard, Hollow tried in vain to stifle the sudden throbbing in their chest. They too glanced away. Their body was strong and hale again, but… Well, some wounds not even a God could heal.

There had been some hope in the back of their mind -- distant and faint but still there -- that they might see their mother again. That the two of them might walk in her gardens together as they once had, that she might look at Hollow and speak those rare, sweet words of praise. That she might look at them and say that she was proud, that they had done enough, that she loved--

Hollow, don’t, Ghost cut in before their thoughts could devolve any further. Don’t. She isn’t worth you tearing yourself up over her.

You cannot tell me you do not feel something, Hollow countered, a little hotly. For good or ill, she birthed us.

Maybe, but… A moment of silence. Look, I don’t really know how to say how I feel about her or the Pale King. Only that it isn’t a good feeling, like I ate something bad. So I try to think about the people I care about instead, and the people who care about me. I think that’s what you should do, too, at least right now.

Hollow sighed lightly. Ghost was right, of course. Now was not the time to pick at that particular wound. Too much had already happened in such a short time, and any more might well drive them mad.

They had Ghost and Hornet and Quirrel and Grimmchild and the rest of their siblings in their life now. Hollow would count their blessings in the family they had, both that which they possessed by blood and that which they had found. For now, they would find their happiness in that family and be content.

“Are you all right?” Quirrel asked, pulling them from their thoughts and eyes full of concern.

Hollow nodded slowly, indicating for him to continue.

“Anyway,” he said, picking up again, “having hit a dead end with that lead, the two of us knew we’d simply have to find a solution for ourselves. We made our way back out of the gardens, and somehow managed to get turned around altogether in Greenpath.”

He jerked a thumb in the direction of one of the warriors, who Hollow noticed upon closer inspection was wearing an apron generously spattered with old paint stains. Next to him stood a rhinoceros beetle, the pair of them watching the other two beetle warriors engaging in a rather heated discussion.

“Luckily, we ran into that lovely couple over there -- Sheo and Nailsmith, they call themselves. They were kind enough to give us a place by their hearth to rest for a while. Had a lovely chat, which of course had them asking what we were doing out there in the first place. We told them our story and what we were trying to accomplish, and wouldn’t you know that the Nailsmith had actually done some work in repairing shells and missing limbs with metal prosthetics once upon a time?

“He had never done work with a vessel, but we let him take a look at Ghost’s shell. He seemed to think he could at least mend the two halves back together. Only he lacked the material he needed for the task: pale ore.

“It was hunting for the ore that took us on our whirlwind tour of the rest of the Hallownest. And, well, that’s how we ended up meeting the rest of this crowd. Ultimately it was Hornet who thought to look out at Kingdom’s Edge. Turns out the resting places of wyrms are absolutely teeming with pale ore veins!

“We brought all we could carry to the Nailsmith, and he was as good as his word. He might even be able to do something for your shell, if you’re in a mind to let him.” Quirrel turned his head to look in the direction of the square again. “Ah, it looks like they’re ready.”

In the center of the plaza, Jiji was hard at work, bent over and putting the finishing touches on a large seal. Circular and intricate, it bore some resemblance to the summoning circle in her sanctuary. It was a seal of binding, but it was of the sort Hollow was unfamiliar with.

Upon closer inspection, they noticed smaller circles in the center and edges of the seal. They recognized these circles as conduit lines, and further that the number of circles was equal to the number of bugs present in Dirtmouth. She clearly intended for them to play a part in the ritual to rebind Ghost’s shade to their shell, but what that part might be Hollow was uncertain of.

“The Shaman’s work, not mine,” Jiji said when Hollow walked up to her, once again making use of that uncanny ability to understand the vessel without words. “I am merely a copyist today. Once again he has outdone himself.” She scrawled one last line with her brush and stood.

“And the leylines are down! All we need now is a catalyst and a power source. The latter is where you lovely lot come in.” She clicked her claws together rapidly to get everyone’s attention. “Places, bugs, places! Now you--” Jiji grabbed Hollow’s arm, all but dragging them to the center of the seal. “--stand right here. The rest will be providing a bit of their energy to facilitate the spellwork, but the hard part -- giving our shade a reason to come and stay in their shell again and helping them to stay there -- is still yours to bear.”

Staying where they were bid, silent as the bugs bustled to and fro and were herded into their assigned spots about the circle. The ritual had not properly begun, but already they could feel a buzzing on the air. Like the water in a levee, awaiting the floodgates to open so that it might flow again.

Are you ready? Hollow asked.

Yes , Ghost said, hesitatingly, but…

But?

What if it doesn’t work?

It will, they replied, sending a pulse of reassurance in their direction. Even if it does not, we will find some other way. I promised you that I would bring you home, and I will not fail in this. I simply will not allow it. Believe in our strength and our love for you, little Ghost. Believe that we can help you now, as you have helped us.

Okay , Ghost said, attempting to sound braver than they likely felt. I’ll try.

A few minutes later, Hornet and Elderbug approached them. Carefully wrapped and cushioned by spidersilk, Hornet held up Ghost’s shell. Hollow saw that it had been cleaned and polished with great care, shining like new. Or perhaps that was simply the bright and silvery seam of pale ore that now bridged the gap where the shell had been broken.

“Here, knight,” she said, somber as they took the shell. “You will need to be the one to hold the shell throughout the transfer and the binding that follows. Moreover... I simply think it is fitting, all things considered.”

Hollow delicately ran a fingertip down the vein as they took the shell from their sister. They tapped the metal lightly and a bell-like note rang through the air. Pale ore made for strong yet light and flexible weaponry, and that was no less true for Ghost’s now-repaired shell.

“I’m told you’re to have this, too,” Elderbug murmured, carefully laying the white-petalled flower on top of Ghost’s shell. Its faint glow only made the pale ore shine all the brighter. He smiled slightly up at Hollow. “Much as it saddens me to part with such a treasure, I think our little traveler needs it more.”

At last everyone came to stand in their proper place in the circle. Hollow at the center with Ghost’s shade and shell, Hornet and Quirrel standing to either side of them. Grimmchild flew down silently and perched on Hollow’s shoulder. Everyone else stood upon the edge of the circle, Jiji standing opposite from Hollow. Raising a claw to the sky, she began to chant the spell.

The air at first remained stagnant as the eternal breeze suddenly ceased. Then, a humming followed. Static danced along Hollow’s carapace, arcing to prickle at those beside them and back again. Power, sure and steady, began to build from where the soles of their feet met the ground, up their spine.

Instinct guided Hollow to slowly, slowly kneel upon the ground. Eyes open, they tipped their head back to the sky. A silent prayer to any higher being or power that might be listening. To grant them success and relief, to give them an end and beginning to all that had brought them to this moment.

Everything seemed to fade away in that moment. Their doubts, their grief. Their hurt, their anger. All thoughts of the past and future fled from their mind. The only things that remained were the present, the combined strength of those that loved and surrounded them now.

Hollow looked down one more, the magic about them spiking with a feverish intensity. The flower’s glow flared once, twice, three times. Then in a flash it was gone, its light now haloing Ghost’s shell. Leaning forward and bringing their arms up in the same motion, Hollow pressed the temples of their shells together. They closed their eyes and exhaled in a long sigh.

Then, in a voice as clear and sure as if they had been born with it, Hollow whispered, “Come back to us, little one. Come home.”

Deep within themself, Hollow felt something split from them then. A piece of themself that they realized was Ghost, pulling away and flowing out. Tears flowed cold and unbidden down their face and pattering quietly on the shell in their hands, but there was no sorrow in the parting. They were still weeping when they opened their eyes.

There, lying in Hollow’s arms, was a little vessel. Their little head entirely too big for their child’s body, as round and pudgy as any grub. Eyes stared droopy and unfocused out at the world, as if they had just woken from sleep. Their tiny hands reached up to scrub at their face. They paused in the motion to stare cross-eyed at their own fingers before looking beyond to focus at the sibling who held them.

Hollow? Ghost said, their voice coming from without rather than within now. Did it work? Am I really here?

Yes, little one, Hollow replied, breath hitching in their throat. They nuzzled against Ghost’s face, the seam of pale ore catching lightly on the crack in Hollow’s shell. Once they started, Hollow could not seem to stop as they hugged Ghost tightly to them. They realized joyfully that Ghost was nuzzling back. You are here, and I am here. We are all here with you.

“Ghost,” came Hornet’s voice, faintly at first. “Ghost!”

Holding to no sense of dignity or restraint now, their sister flung herself at the two of them. She really did knock them to the ground this time, hugging them tight and muttering half-threats and endearments all in the same breath. Grimmchild followed suit with a scree! that split the ear with Quirrel on his heels. Then it seemed as if everyone had followed suit. They might have well smothered under all the attention, but Hollow did not care.

Because Ghost was here with them, and they would never be parted again.