Chapter Text
They came upon, almost immediately, houses with curved roofs and doors. They hesitated by the entrance.
It was…loud.
And busy.
A village?
The village was full with different sounds and smell, more than they had experienced in the city. The constant downpour muffled sounds, drowned out the smells until all it smelled like was fresh rain.
The village before them had more than ten houses, and more than ten occupants.
Bugs in all sizes, though most of a similar round shape, walked between houses, confident and friendly seeming.
Children, those strange creatures, wiggled quickly through the village on small, chubby legs, waving around their arms in whatever game they were playing.
It looked fun.
They stopped by a house and just watched, barely entering the village by creeping along the edge.
The small bugs had to be children, like that one they saw in City, they were small and clumsy too.
Go play, if you want to. I’m sure they won’t mind.
They hesitated, and looked up. They needed to go up. They didn’t want to be found by the guards looking for them.
They needed to keep moving. They had already wasted time.
You have a disguise now. We won’t be found so fast. Besides, I don’t think a quick stop would hurt.
That was right.
They did have a disguise.
They had almost forgotten the cloak that covered their shell and the mask that covered their face. As long as they didn’t reveal themselves, they could be a completely new being.
Still, a swell of nerves lit up in their void as they watched the giggling bugs run around.
A mental prod, gentle but still firm, gave them the confidence to step out into the open.
The first one spotted them, and ran up, tapping them on the chest. “Come play!”
They followed, pulled into the game without even knowing the rules.
Maybe they could even be—a bug.
At least for a little while.
༺𓐍༻
The kingsmould swung, and the pure vessel blocked its relentless attacks.
Every hit jarred, and the vessel could feel its arms tiring. The movements became rote soon enough, and it pushed through the exhaustion to hit harder, to hit faster.
“Very good,” Its instructor said, their voice cold.
It felt nothing for the phrase, because it was empty. It was hollow. And hollow things did not feel.
(The vessel stifled the feelings deep inside, the ones that preened at the praise)
“Again,” The instructor commanded.
It swung.
The pure vessel’s nail glanced off, sparking on the kingsmould’s armor.
“Hit harder.”
It put all of its strength into the next blow, but its form was imperfect. It stumbled, only slightly, but quickly corrected itself.
It needed to be better.
(It needed to be perfect)
“Swing faster.”
It swung faster.
“Swing smoother.”
The vessel concentrated on its movements, smoothing out its jerky steps.
“Look up. Don’t stare at your feet.”
It looked up into the dark eyes of the kingsmould. Its stare bored into the vessel’s own, a spot of darkness among the gleaming white.
It smoothly sidestepped a double swing, then parried with a swipe against its vulnerable arms.
Its swing connected, and the nail swung through to the other side. An arm, what was left of it, splattered to the ground in a puddle of void. One of its nails clattered with it.
There were three more arms to go, but the vessel was making mistakes.
It couldn’t collapse.
It had to continue.
Then, a swing came too close to its face, meeting its mark and connecting, leaving a sharp line of pain across its mask.
It stopped itself from flinching back.
Machines didn’t flinch.
The vessel was pure.
“Stop.”
They both stilled, like marionettes cut from their strings.
The instructor pointed to the vessel. “Come,” They called.
“Go heal,” They said.
It started to walk.
It didn’t look back. It had no reason to. It was hollow in the same way that the kingsmould was hollow, and hollow things did not take unreasonable actions.
(It glanced back, but only because it was checking for danger. The vessel met eyes with the kingsmould—)
It did not run, because there was no reason to run. Just like there was no reason to feel.
(It had no reason to feel scared. It should envy the kingsmould. It was perfectly empty—)
Just like the vessel. It was perfectly empty.
(—and envy was not something it could feel)
The vessel walked the long way to the Hotsprings.
༺𓐍༻
The being was the Spider.
They closed their eyes and counted to ten. They had to cover their eyes too, because the others couldn’t tell that their eyes were closed. They were fine to make this concession in favor of playing the game.
The others giggled and ran away as the time ticked down.
They had caught onto the game quickly enough. There was a Spider, and there was the Prey. Whoever was the Spider had to catch all the others and then they were Spiders too.
They quickly became a Spider in the first game and the second, not entirely understanding of the rules yet, but this time they would be the best Spider.
They were the first Spider this time, and the first Spider always had to count to ten. It was the rules. They were told so.
Reminds me of tag.
The ten second mark dwindled down to one, then zero, and they uncovered their eyes, already looking around.
There was a giggle to their right, so they headed off in its direction.
They found the first one crouching behind a hut, going wide-eyed when it turned to see them reaching out. The bug gave a high pitched squeal and froze as the being lightly tapped it on the shoulder.
“Awww,” the bug said, then it was off looking for the others with a giggle.
The game went until all the bugs were Spiders yet again, all hissing at each other in mock fight.
“Break it up!” One of the old bugs from the hut yelled, but it wasn’t harsh or mean like the attendant or sentries had been. The children ran away giggling.
Still, they shied away from the loud voice, thinking of the sentries and their loud orders.
One of the children wobbled over, antenna twitching curiously. “Why’re you scared?” It said, surprisingly intuitive for a little creature that could barely run.
They pointed at the old bug and quickly backed out of sight from him. The little bug smiled. “Grandpa’s not scary. He’s just loud.”
They understood a little bit, but still avoided the old bugs from then on.
The bug toddled away after that and then there was another game of the Spider game, so they decided not to think on it.
After a few more games, and after all the little bugs had stopped playing they felt in their void that they were ready to leave. They said goodbye to the town and made their way up to the exit.
It was a bit… sad. That they had to go.
Do you want to leave?
They didn’t want to leave, but they didn’t want to stay.
They wanted somewhere they could be alone, if they wanted. Some place like that was not here, in this busy village, where everyone watched and listened very closely.
Then, if it is what you want, let’s go.
They climbed further towards the center of the village, then swiftly jumped up the steps and platforms to the top. They dodged busy bugs coming and going down the path, and hurried towards the rest of Crossroads.
༺𓐍༻
The vessel was pure.
This, if nothing else, was a fact.
(Then why did it feel so—)
The vessel was hollow. Empty.
It kept this in mind as it stood silently in its room. A room just as empty as the vessel it housed.
It was with no effort at all that the vessel stood in one spot, back straight and head forward. Already, it had been put away and taken out, then put away again in this small and empty room, walls a slate gray-white.
It was a thing to be put away when it wasn’t needed, like a toy or a machine.
(It could not help but think it would be forgotten, would be left to stand as still as stone forever)
Pure vessels didn’t think.
That was its purpose, to be the perfect vessel.
A perfect vessel didn’t feel.
A perfect vessel didn’t move.
A perfect vessel didn’t make mistakes, because machines couldn’t make mistakes, only errors to be corrected.
A perfect vessel didn’t watch the lumaflies fluttering softly in the lamp by the door.
It just happened to be facing that direction, is all.
It waited for new orders, for (its father) the Pale King to come and order it to stand by his desk as he worked. Or for its instructor to come and shove a nail into its empty hands.
It always followed orders, as a pure vessel should.
(The Pale King had ordered the vessel to be hollow, after all. It would not disobey its first order)
Soon, the vessel would fulfill its purpose and become the Hollow Knight. The Pale King’s plan would work, and it would be sealed away to trap the infection.
(It didn’t want to go away)
Pure vessels didn’t want.
The Pale King expected it to play its part accordingly. There was no question that it would.
It will become the Hollow Knight—
(Because it trusts its father)
(Because it—loves its father)
—because the vessel was commanded, and the vessel was pure.
༺𓐍༻
Once they got out of the village, the path was a lot emptier. It was emptier than City, and reminded them somewhat of traversing the paths just above the abyss.
Still, there were other things that were revealed to them as they traveled.
A little white bug crawling its way along a short path, for example.
It captured their attention instantly.
They paused in their journey for just a little bit to watch the small thing scuttle along on many short legs.
It’s a tiktik. The voice helpfully revealed.
They tilted their head. It was odd to see a bug with more than four limbs. For some strange reason, most bugs they had seen appeared to have only four, two arms and two legs. At least, that’s what they showed. Most wore cloaks of some kind that hid such things as their limbs.
Perhaps some had no limbs at all, under that fabric. They would never know.
The shadow creeper had more than four limbs too.
They followed the tiktik for a little while, cataloging its ridges and dark beady eyes. It walked slowly over the terrain, and for a few minutes they just wandered alongside it.
Its ridges looked pointed. They reached out to touch it, but it deftly avoided their curious hand.
Eventually, and to their disappointment, the small bug crawled through a hole smaller than they could enter. It looked to be a tight squeeze for the tiktik too.
They leaned down and looked through, but the little cave on the other side took a sharp turn they couldn’t see past. The tiktik was gone, too.
Maybe they could fit, if they could widen the hole a bit for their horns. They could just dig it out, if they tried.
They didn’t, though.
Come on. Let’s go.
Because they needed to continue on.
