Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A scruff voice, weathered by years of dedication to a craft.
“I must thank you for not killing me when I asked you to. I was irritated at first, but I had some time to think up there and I soon saw the wisdom in your decision. The world is made of more than metal and weapons. I set out exploring, and soon wound up here.”
A nod to cozy, handcrafted surroundings.
“Sheo is a master of many arts, and has promised to teach me what he can. I think I’ll be quite happy here.”
———
A delicate and aged voice, from a mother whose roots spread far and wide.
“That pulsing emptiness… truly, it has been transformed by the revelations it found.”
A moment of pondering.
“Does it… feel anything? Triumph? Or hate? If it does, I cannot sense it.”
Direct statement. Meaningful gaze. “The fate of our kingdom, our Hallownest… that future belongs to you now.”
———
A scrappy and stubborn huffy voice.
“Precept six: choose your own fate. Our elders teach that our fate is chosen for us before we are even born. I disagree.”

———

And then it’s all gone. Fleeting moments of observations left unexplored. Memory returns.
It had made a sacrifice. A deviation from its set path. Not what its father wanted, but what it itself wanted. But no mind to think brings up the question of how any decision was considered at all. No will means no ability to execute those decisions, yet it still did. Through its decisions, it had some form of a voice. It was paradoxical.
But that didn’t matter anymore. It had torn apart its own shell to use the true power of its Shade form to bring an end to the pain caused by a forgotten goddess. There was no coming back from that. So there it lay in nothing at all, left with just the memories and decisions it had taken.

But then the nothingness soon gave way to something. The outside wall of a cave, dug up and exposed. A friendly yellow glow emanated from behind the gaps in the stone that formed the exterior.
A presence. Not foreign, but familiar. One thought to be lost and unable to be mourned. The weathered voice of a diligent but happy little bug.
“Ohh, bury my mother, pale and slight, bury my father with his eyes shut tight…”
The curiosity that drove it to discover its true nature reignited at the familiar tune. Its shade body floating soundlessly up the short stone ledges that gave way to faint light. It phased through the stone, and it could see the very atoms that composed the structure. Then it was through.
“…bury my sisters two by two, and when you’re done let’s bury me twOH WYRM!” the prospector yelped in fear and hugged her pickaxe close to herself.

The Vessel rose its hands to show it was unarmed. It meant no harm.

Recognition.
“Huh?… It’s you…? But you look different…” she reached out a slightly trembling hand. The Vessel took it in their own. Memory was recalled.
Myla. The joyous prospector who loved to sing. Taken away by the Infection. She seemed to remember her fate with a solemn change in expression.
“I’m sorry you had to kill me. I know you didn’t mean to.” Myla looked at the cold stone floor somberly. A more recent memory was recalled by the Vessel: a train of thought. Should it rid this bug of her misery? Should she continue to suffer whilst it made its journey? A decision was made. Execution for the greater good. But regret followed after the first strike. Attempt to withdraw, to escape. Stinging pain of the clang of metal upon chitin. A burst of thorns. She was dead.
But here she was.
Resignation. Myla met eyes with the ghostly form of the Vessel. “Thanks for…” hesitation. It felt like a goodbye. “…doing what you could.”

It was sealed off. Impenetrable wall of stone with the same light glowing behind it. Panic. A try to push past the stone…

A booming and courageous voice rang from behind it.
“Little warrior?” a familiar kind brute waved a muscular arm in greeting. “I knew I’d see you again.”
New surroundings. Basin. A tight but welcoming cavernous tunnel. The Vessel felt strong arms raise them from their floating altitude on the ground. Observation behind a paper mask. “Faced a mighty foe, yes? That scar shows a great battle.”
That scar. Split apart. Sacrifice. Memory was recalled.
Cloth. A friendly warrior with a dream of an honorable death. It was achieved. Not without some inability to mourn or commemorate a fallen comrade.
“…I’m sorry you had to watch me sacrifice myself.” the Vessel was released and drifted back to the stone floor. “…but I knew it was the right thing to do.”
Consideration.
Perhaps. The act lead to the Vessel obtaining a very important half of a whole, one that would help forge its own will and bring about a better end. But should those around it have suffered to achieve such a thing?

With that final thought, Cloth was gone. Vanished.

And it was back in the void it had found itself in. But there was a difference this time. Falling. Descending.
The passing visage of a familiar edge of a cliff.
A loud thud echoed across the nothingness as the Vessel landed on solid wooden planks outlined with the flora of an underwater reservoir.
Another someone who made some mark on its memories, sitting where the planks cut off into the water.
He spoke with a defeated yet contented voice.
“I do not know why…” he began quietly, “but after I fell…” he shuffled his position to face the Vessel. “my thirst for violence just… vanished.”
Tiso. He had met his end at the Colosseum of Fools, and was certainly granted the death bestowed for many of its competitors. He had been uptight and arrogant, yet, for all the game he talked, his hubris seemed to have vanished, and left an empty hole of what once was.
The Vessel reflected on the strangeness that three bugs who had died directly or indirectly to the infection, but were claimed nonetheless, found their way into this sort of limbo-realm.
Tiso, now looking over his armored shoulder, held an expression of peace. “… and I think…” he turned his gaze to the bright blue waters. “…I want to stay here. For a little while, at least.” Because the formerly self-absorbed warrior has lost all his recognizable personality traits, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he asked, with genuine consideration, “…what do you think?” But the little Vessel could not respond. And they would never get to. Tiso had vanished into the numbing darkness like the other visages of the bugs before him. It was alone again. It was by itself again.

No new environment appeared out of nothing. Only a quiet, but once mighty and powerful voice rang out below it.
“Vessel.”
There she was, being dragged down by a mass of void tendrils, her wings constricted. The Radiance’s glory was dimmed. She was weak.
“Vessel,” she repeated.
“Vessel, please. I cannot be forgotten again,” she had stated those same words during their battle, but now, her voice quiet with growing weakness, she repeated those words with desperation.
“Hallownest needs to dream,” she reasoned, “needs to hope.” She was swayed forward by the might of the constricting tendrils. “The infection will still be gone. I won’t interfere with anything.”
Strange… she was pleading for her life when minutes ago she was so sure she would overpower it. What a cruel and ironic twist.
“Let me live,” she began chanting, her voice regaining some volume with each statement until it was all the Vessel could hear.

“Let me live. Let me live let me live let me live LET ME LIVE LET ME LIVE LET ME LIVE LET ME LIVE LET ME LIVE“

All at once she was hurled down to the floor of the Abyss. She was silenced with a mighty thump.
The Vessel had floated down along with her. Perhaps it stayed out of pity. Perhaps it stayed out of curiosity. Whatever the reason was, the Radiance was on her last chance to bargain.

“…I can give you what no other Vessel can have…” she offered through her deteriorating voice.
“A mind to think.

A will to break.

A voice to cry suffering.”

“Those bugs in your memories…” the Radiance began, staggering through her words. “I saw them, heard them.”
With pain, she continued her bargain. “You could comfort Myla. You could tell Cloth of your battles. You could answer Tiso’s question.”
Surprisingly enough, the Vessel had a… curiosity to accept the deal. Yes, theoretically, it could do all those things. All it needed was the Radiance’s gift. She had even promised the infection would still be gone.
“I don’t want to be forgotten again,” she pleaded with sorrow, resigning herself to her fate if the Vessel chose not to accept the bargain.

It floated forward, the void tendrils around the Radiance vanishing into nothing. It reached out a hand. The radiance reaches out the extremities of her wing…

———

And everything came crashing to their senses. The Vessel was catapulted through flashing colors, the beige of the ancient basin, the blue of the City of Tears, the violet of the resting grounds, the glowing pinks and purples of the crystal peaks, and the dark blues of Dirtmouth. They flew as orange light into a hut not too far off the village, and..

They sat up. The air was calm. They had a body. And they had observed the fact. They were comprehending. They were thinking!

SHING!

The sound of metal being drawn from a sheath alerted the awoken Vessel to a hostile but familiar presence.

A regal and imposing figure, dressed in velvet and eyes sharp with concentration. Her needle was held at a close distance from the Vessel’s face, poised to strike.
Hornet.

Chapter Text

Danger was a feeling the Vessel was very familiar with. The response of fight or flight, most commonly the latter, had saved their shell on more than one occasion. They had rarely come in contact with the secret third option: freeze.
Of course, being backed up into a wall of a small cabin, there was nowhere to flee nor were there any accessible weapons nearby, save for the Vessel’s array of spells. But this was a family member who aimed her needle at their head. Should they retaliate? Initially, they thought yes, but the Vessel had a new ability unexplored: a voice to cry suffering: or, in this case, urge for safety.

“Wait! Stop!” The Vessel pleaded abruptly. “I mean you no harm.”
The sensation of saying their first words was… odd. Even so that they didn’t even realize they had consciously decided to speak those words. Was it pure instinct? They really had no frame of reference. “Hood on.” they urged once more. “Did I just-?” their inquiry was cut short by their half-sister’s interjection.

“Did you just talk?” Hornet questioned insistently, a mix of confusion and shock spreading across her face.

“Apparently?’ the Vessel shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

To their detriment, Hornet’s needle was drawn closer. They had to choose their next words very carefully.
“You killed the Infection,” she stated, “you didn’t absorb it. Why is it… in you? Why can you suddenly talk?”
In Hornet’s defense, the tiny Vessel understood how shocking this event was. Someone emerging from the dead was not unheard of in Hallownest, but certainly rare. “I don’t trust this,” she added.

“The Radiance,” the Vessel began carefully, “she’s the god that made the Infection.” Hornet’s sharp-tipped weapon was drawn back, not too much, but a significant distance nonetheless. “After her defeat, she made an offer.” they continued. “She gave me… a mind. A will. A voice, in exchange that she be remembered.” Their half-sister had drawn back further now, they hoped she understood they were not a threat. “The Infection is still gone,” they clarified hurriedly as to not cause worry, “she just kind of… exists in me now. I have a free will. She’s not controlling me.”

The tiny Vessel reflected on how their newfound self-actualization felt. Somehow, it felt right. Like they had found that one missing puzzle piece that would complete them. Maybe what a bug needed to truly thrive was the ability of complex thought. “And as contrary as it sounds,” they commented, “I’ve always been curious about what having feelings is like.” They attempted a smile, then something dawned upon them.

They could finally converse with those whom they could now finally, truly care for! The bugs of the kingdom who had survived the Radiance’s plague, and had bonded with the Vessel! This was the perfect opportunity. They knew exactly who to start with.

“Wait- the Elderbug!” they exclaimed excitedly as they rushed out the nearest located exit of the cramped cabin. “I need to talk to him!” And they were so full of anticipation they didn’t notice Hornet yelling after them.

The near-silent pitter-patter of steps on the cold rocky ground reverberated throughough a seemingly infinitely expanding plain. An array of warm lights punctuated the darkness: Dirthmouth.
It was then the Vessel decided to take in the scenery they had only acknowledged the existence of previously. The cool wind flew through their cloak as they observed every detail their awoken eyes could gaze upon.

Their eyes settled on something… troubling. A prospector’s pickaxe, half-buried in the ground with a fractured headlamp placed atop it.
Myla.
Something crept into the tiny Vessel’s heart, nothing living, but more so… a presence. It ate away at something, but they weren’t sure what. One thing was certain: it felt awful. The unease that crept into their soul created a chill far greater than the winds could achieve. It was suffocating. Overwhelming. A great heap of sorrow and something along the lines of panic settled upon them.

“What is this?” they asked aloud. “I feel… terrible.” they clutched at their cloak as they processed this newfound emotion.

“This is grief,” the Radiance’s voice answered. Her presence provided something of a comfort. Another punctuation in the field of dark things. “You couldn’t miss Myla then,” she continued, “you can now.”

The Vessel had to sit themself down. The incomprehensible weight of emotion had affected them greatly.
“I know it hurts, but you’ll be okay.” the Radiance comforted. Perhaps she had been misjudged. What was once seen as a cruel goddess had only acted out as a means of retaliation and of desperation. This wasn’t just mercy, it was empathy.

The following of calculated footsteps alerted the Vessel to a more physical presence. Hornet had followed them, and had most likely observed the predicament.
No words were spoken as Hornet sat beside their smaller half-sibling, and allowed them a shoulder to lean on.

—

“…and on top of that, I can process things now! I mean, I could before, but not like this!”
With some reconciliation from Hornet, the Vessel made it to Dirtmouth and finally had an opportunity to speak with the first true friend they ever made: the Elderbug. “This was never supposed to even happen… but it feels right somehow.”

The wise insect gave a “hmm” of acknowledgement. “I admit, I was curious as to why you never spoke,” he admitted in his sweet weathered voice, “I didn’t know it went this deep.”
Then, the Elderbug smiled. “Regardless, I’m still very thankful for your company, even if it was majority spent in silence.”
A warmth swelled in the Vessel’s heart. It felt achey, but good.

“Oh,” was all they could mutter as an immediate response. “Thank you.”

The Radiance’s presence presented itself to revel in its container’s newfound emotional clarity. “This is appreciation,” she explained. “This isn’t all bad, see?” It certainly wasn’t all bad. Though their first major emotions were panic and grief, it made the positive seem all the more brighter in contrast.

“It strikes me strange to see you this emotional, ghost.” Hornet commented. “But then again, you’ve always been strange.” It was indeed a factual statement, the Vessel was like no other of its kind.

The Elderbug tilted his head in curiosity. “Ghost? Is that your name?”
The Vessel sat in silence for a brief moment, but it felt so monumental. They could have a name now. A name specifically for them.

“Yes,” they nodded in realization. “That is my name. Ghost.” they tested out how the name felt, and they were surprised to see how well it fit them. They weren't a literal ghost, but the title Hornet once used to refer to them, “Ghost of Hallownest,” represented their larger memory of the fading kingdom. They turned to Hornet and smiled. “I am Ghost!”

—

“The infection has ceased its presence in Hallownest, as far as I can tell.” Hornet explained calmly as the two siblings departed from Dirtmouth and had started down the well that led to the rest of the kingdom. “I think you’d like to see the fruits of your efforts.” It was true, Ghost now had the ability to form opinions, likes and dislikes, on things.
“I’m looking forward to seeing it with a fresh perspective!” they responded, happily trailing after their half-sister.

Ghost recalled what the Crossroads had looked like. When they first returned to the kingdom, it was as all the other biomes in the kingdom were: in perpetual stasis, unchanging. It was easy enough to traverse, and it felt used and lived-in. They would have to have a talk with Cornifer the cartographer, whom they had met down here.
But later in their journey, the place changed. Peaceful, empty hallways become bloated with blobs of infection, and the remaining husks grew somehow more volatile than before.
Now, it had returned to its tranquil atmosphere. The bugs of Hallownest certainly made the most of these tunnels, with Ghost now noticing the intentional placements of the pathways and the little differences that distinguished one section from another.

Ghost’s wonder was quickly cut short at the arrival of someplace very, very familiar.
The Temple of the Black Egg.

“Wait,” they interjected, “this is where I…” they didn’t finish their sentence. They both knew what they did here. “Have we come to pay respects?” Ghost asked instead.

Hornet nodded hesitantly, “…yes.”

“Ah, ok. I think that’s good.”

The interior of the temple was as pristine as the day the Vessel first gazed upon it. Even when faced with the gluttonous growths of the infection, it retained an air of sophistication. As with the rest of the Crossroads, it had been purified back to its original state, the lumafly lanterns buzzing as brightly as usual.
The long corridor that led to the chamber was absent. But something seeped out of the crevices in the stone… Void. It would have only made sense for some of it to appear here, they did harness it in their battle against the Radiance. Ghost’s core element brought some familiarity and comfort within the cold, uncaring chamber.

An empty room with a high ceiling left little else to be seen but the Hollow Knight’s corpse. Its skull had a fracture from where Hornet’s needle had pierced it, and tears of Void stained the chitin around its eyes. Ghost felt grief tug at their heartstrings once more.

Something pulled at the back of their mind, the Radiance wanted to say something.
“Only now, being free from my bindings, I can see what suffering I had subjected this poor Vessel to.”
While it was true that the goddess’s cruelty was unnecessary, it was not unwarranted. Being sealed away forever is reasonable ground to be upset. No matter the damage done, the Radiance wanted to make up for her transgressions.

“I have a request,” Ghost began, “Could you… help them?” they thought of the Hollow Knight. “Like you helped me?” the undulations of the Void Heart rang soundlessly with compassion.

“Yes,” the goddess nodded, “I suppose it would only be fair.” And she, too, focused her will into breathing a new soul into existence. “What things will it behold, I wonder?”

Ghost felt apprehensive. “Let us pray this doesn’t go awry.”

…

The tiny Vessel focused back into reality from Hornet calling their name.
“Ghost? You weren’t responding,” the scarlet sentinel observed, “do you feel okay?”

Ghost nodded, “I feel fine. I’m glad I can express that.” They stepped closer to the twitching body of the Hollow Knight. It was waking up. “Also, you might not wanna make any sudden movements right now.”

Chapter Text

Could the Hollow Knight even be called “hollow” at this moment? Revived by Void and granted a mind with the ancient Light, it could hardly fit that description. The formerly hollow Hollow Knight staggered to its feet and met the gaze of its kin. It looked… tainted. That could be its name. Taint. Or it could pick its own name.

“Hello,” Ghost greeted as politely as they could, “I know this is a lot, but everything’s fine now.”

Things didn’t seem fine for Hornet, who was cautiously gripping the hilt of her needle. “Ghost…” she began warily, “what’s going on?”

Things seemed even less fine as the Tainted Vessel gripped its head, as if trying to stop it from splitting apart.
“What did you do?” when the Tainted Vessel spoke, it sounded… off. Its voice was just above a whisper. “What have you done?”
Its grip on its own head tightened as it looked at itself in horror. “This is wrong. This is wrong. This is all wrong.”

Oh, Ghost realized in solemn regret. It had been instilled with the idea that any presence of the Radiance inside of it was, well, bad, among many other things instilled. It had most likely been told of its purpose, thus establishing thoughts in its mind, which directly went against what its father considered to be pure. The loopholes in the logic of the Pale King had not been realized in time, and an entire kingdom suffered under the hubris of its ruler. And the Tainted Vessel was the doomed catalyst. It would not react kindly with the symbiosis of the one it was taught to fear and to hate.
But maybe, right here in the present, something could be made of it. Not as a vessel for containing something, not as a catalyst, but an individual. A sibling. A friend.

Ghost’s hopeful train of thought was quickly derailed by the Tainted Vessel repeatedly chanting “Get it out. I must get it out.” And they quickly realized how bad this was going to get as soon as their sibling plunged its clawed hand into its chest, a light splash of blood erupting from the fresh wound. Oh no no no.

“Sibling! Stop!” Ghost urged, frantically waving their arms. “You’re okay! You don’t have to do this!”

The Tainted Vessel stared at Ghost with an animal-like ferocity. “It got into you,” it observed with terror. “You’re not pure. You failed!”

No, they didn’t fail. They made something completely new of themself. Ghost just had to calm it down, maybe-

“I won’t fail!” The Tainted Vessel declared valiantly with misplaced passion as it used its claws to slit at its own throat.

Before it could do more damage, Hornet skillfully slipped in and spun a thin but sturdy web around the Tainted Vessel’s body, preventing it from moving, similar to the position she took when bracing Ghost for their initial fight against the Radiance.
“NO!” it yelled as it broke free after a brief struggle. “I will not be held down again!”

Hornet quickly adjusted her stance to anticipate the Tainted Vessel’s next move, expecting for it to attempt to damage itself again. She was caught off guard when it practically wrangled her needle out of her hands and stabbed it into themself. It fell to the ground shortly after, the circle of orange light being flushed from its now-empty eyes.
…
If Ghost had a geo for every time they saw their sibling stab itself, they’d have two geo, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Hornet squinted in mild disgust as she removed her needle from the Tainted Vessel’s wound with a slightly sickening *schlick.* A mix of Void and faintly glowing orange dripped from the weapon’s tip.

Readjusting their gaze- Ghost hasn’t even noticed themself flinch away- the tiny vessel observed something… odd, but it certainly inspired a plan.
Glowing, floating circles, just barely visible, intricately detailed with looping patterns— these were the symbols of the dream realm.
Hope was not lost. Ghost had a chance to salvage this. Their previous existence, when they had no voice, they had watched time and time again as friends and foes perished to ultimately preventable circumstances. Cloth wouldn’t have died if Ghost had been better at fighting the Traitor Lord. Tiso wouldn’t have died if Ghost made it to the Kingdom’s Edge a litter earlier. Myla… could have been cured.
No, if they have enough initiative to actually use, Ghost is going to make their own way forward. They’re not some puppet on a string blindly following destiny, at least not anymore.

Focusing their will, Ghost’s dreamnail shimmered a brilliant gold and they held it at their side. “I may not have a brain, Hornet, but I have an idea.” Ghost didn’t wait to hear their sister’s protestations, they were quickly engulfed by blinding light as they dashed forward struck the limp body of the Tainted Vessel.

…

Silence. The faint whistling of winds on a flat, rocky plane that held memories of battle. Horn-like protrusions of rock asymmetrically framed the sun. This is where they fought the Radiance.
Looking around in calm awe, Ghost spotted their nail. How strange, it must have been left in the realm. They picked it up by its intricately carved hilt— signaling it to be made by the purest of pale ores and crafted by the most brilliant of nailsmiths (they’d have to pay Sheo and the Nailsmith a visit!)— and the tiny Vessel smiled at the familiar sensation of holding a weapon. Holding the form of a voice through actions, used to reach mechanisms and sometimes free bugs from traps of beasts and web… would they still need it, now that they could speak through other, more literal means?

The Radiance appeared from below the platform, flapping her massive wings to grab at its edges and to address Ghost directly.
"I've searched my former prison twice over," she mentioned, "your kin isn't anywhere."

"I remember fighting the ghost of another Vessel in their dream," Ghost recalled. "They might appear if we wait."

And so, they waited.
The wait wasn't too long, thankfully. Ghost had turned to look at their shadow out of boredom only to notice it had donned a pair of glowing eyes and was seemingly moving out of the ground. There it was.

The shadow grew into the shade of the Hollow Knight, soul pouring out of its eyes and the fracture on its head. It leapt forward, swinging a blade made of void at its sibling.
Ghost reflexively drew their own weapon, pure nail parrying void in a strike heavy enough that it recoiled the smaller Vessel a distance away.

The Shade raised its blade high, poised to strike. It came crashing down, Ghost parrying the strike once more. Compared to their initial fight with the Hollow Knight, this time their opponent seemed... slow. Tired. Like it barely had the strength or the will to fight.

Recoiling backwards again, Ghost gripped their nail as tightly as their little hands would allow and spun towards the Shade in a whirlwind of metal. They managed a blow, and void split off in a misty cloud from where it was struck.
The little Vessel's concern over their sibling proved to be a mistake, as the blade wielded by the shade made a sharp and deep cut on the chitin upon their chest. They collided with the stone floor, looking back up at the Shade of the Hollow Knight with determination.

The Void Heart pulsed from where it was exposed, and its aura seemed to calm the Shade. The void blade vanished in a puff of black mist, and its wielder lowered its head in surrender.

As quickly as the fight had started, it was over, and Ghost found themself back in the waking world with a disoriented Tainted Vessel. It blinked slowly, its eyes free from the ancient light but holding the reverence of a sapient being. Through the power of the Void Heart or just sheer brute force, the formerly hollow Hollow Knight had been given a mind to think and a will to break. It didn't speak, and Ghost didn't expect it to. They didn't judge if Taint decided to speak throughout a voice.

...

The climb back to Dirtmouth was relatively uneventful, three pairs of footsteps echoing around the empty caverns. Hornet and Ghost kept a relatively slow pace so Taint could take in its surroundings at its own pace.

"Ghost," Hornet started, only continuing when she knew her half-sibling was listening, "entering... wherever you went, without warning, it scared me." She looked down at the small Vessel. "I just got you back. I don't want you taking risks like that, especially without warning me."

Ghost gave a hum of acknowledgement. "I understand. I acted before you could get a word in, and I put myself in danger. I'll make sure to inform you if I have a potentially risky plan."
Though her scarlet cloak hid her mouth, Hornet smiled.

...

"So we went back to Dirtmouth and Hornet said I have to inform her before making any rash decisions. Then, I wanted to pay a visit to you, so... here we are.." Ghost and their siblings had trekked past the fading town and to the Howling Cliffs. The Nailmaster Mato greeted them with open arms, and the small Vessel was catching him up on the past few hours.

"Quite the story, my pupil," Mato acknowledged in his usual respectful and caring tone.

"I know," Ghost replied, regarding the absurdity of their story thus far. "But, I'm able to talk now." They shrugged. At least they were able to talk... What a nice first day of having full sapience.