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Chapter Text

No cost to great.

He had repeated this mantra, this sentence, a thousand time already. And it was a sentence, a death sentence for millions of his own children.

Yet the king of Hallownest couldn’t bring himself to accomplish his duty, to save his kingdom. Before him laid his wife, crying, clutching three white orbs against her chest. They were full of a glowing pale liquid, in which he knew floated tiny embryos, that would a horrible fate to save the kingdom.

Their insides would melt, rotten by the corrosive void. The small, tainted creatures that would come out would merely masses of the mysterious fluid, wearing the shells of his children.

In all the timelines he foresaw, only one vessel would ascend, only one would prove pure.

In all the timelines he foresaw, all the other vessels, these little, innocent creatures that never asked to be born, would fall to there death. And the only one saved would be the one without a mind.

No cost to great.

Could he still believe that, watching his unborn children he was about to throw in the abyss? He was the king; he could still call it off. Besides, nobody knew why the entire basin had been pretty much evacuated. Nobody knew the detail of the creation of the vessel, not even Monomon.

He could just say that the way he wanted to create the vessel turned out unusable, and people would believe it. He was the king, after all.

But because he was the king, he needed to place the safety of his people before his own egoist desires of a family, of pleasing his dear root with offspring. No, for his people, he would sacrifice anything.

But his children, even if not born, and the vessel, even if made of void, weren’t they his people too?

No, he had decided, every time he had this thought before. But now that their existence was so much closer to become reality, he wasn’t so sure.

In a moment of weakness, he let his mind wonder to what would happen if he canceled everything right now. It was less than a second, but enough for the curse of his foresight to kick in.

Flashes of happiness, his children growing up, the White Lady playing with them, the influence of the little higher beings helping him to change, become a kinder, more open version of himself. And has they keep growing up, powerful knights and brilliant administrators, helping him expend Hallownest beyond what it already was, into a truly eternal kingdom.

And all of that could never be, because of the Old Light.

He began to cry. His dear Lady did so too.

As a goddess of fertility, she could create millions of eggs in a matter of hours, yet, in the entire morning, she only produced three, each one breaking her heart more than the last.

If he pushed her, he knew she would get over her sorrow, long enough at least to produce the eggs required. He wouldn’t.

“Let’s stop here. The Hollow Knight plan need a complete replanning. We can’t do this.”

The White Lady was still crying. Was it joy or still sadness? He couldn’t tell. Would she ever be free from the trauma of them nearly killing their children? This time, his foresight remained mute.

“But… The kingdom? The infection?”

“I will find a pure vessel by another mean. There has to be another solution. There has to be.”

There had to be, because in the future he foresaw, the kingdom would survive and thrive as much as his children. He needed a moment to remember that as much as it felt like his gift had for only purpose to torture him, that wasn’t the case. If he saw a future, it was possible, which meant there was another solution to the infection problem.

There has to be.

Chapter Text

There has to be.

This was his new mantra. His new fixation. In his workshop, the Pale King was working on many things. Plans for the seal, new model of machines, whatever project could keep him busy.

And while he lost himself in the routine, his mind kept on working on the problems that tortured him. First, he still lacked one dreamer, but that was only a minor concern. He already had a candidate in mind, a bug powerful and famous to fill this role. Getting her to accept would be a whole other ordeal. At leat, a meeting was already scheduled.

Second, he needed a vessel. He had been working on plans that could kill the radiance for good, but they would all need way too much time to be completed. With a vessel, however, he could gain time to put then in place, and then the dreamers could even wake up eventually.

But both of these were nothing compared to the fact that he was going to be a father. Distinct shapes were growing in the translucent liquid of the eggs, and they looked ready to hatch anytime soon.

His wife, too, was ready. She was waiting with an excitement like he had never seen in her. In record time, she had arranged the creation of three bedrooms in the private wing of the palace, as well as a nursery, classroom, and what she had called a “playing hall”. A small army of retainers had been prepared to intervene as soon as the royal progeny hatched.

Most of the nobility of Hallownest was already converging in the Silver City, ready to reach the palace at a moment’s notice, to attend the innumerable parties that would no doubt follow the event and use them to further the agendas through the subtle game of court politic. The commoner’s excitement was more genuine, and most of the kingdom was awaiting their god-king’s divine children with barely contained impatience.

Hallownest could not wait for the birth of his children, but the Pale King in the opposite case. What was he supposed to do? He’d never been a father before! He couldn’t even take inspiration from his own parents; he never met his father, and the only memory he had of his mother was when he and his siblings ate her from the inside.

That only left how he saw other parents acted. He did not know how it happened in the lower strata of society, and he rarely paid attention to the nobility, but the few times he did, they never stroke him as shining examples of love. Rather, they seemed to prioritize how their progeny would affect their image or forcing them into the perfect heirs.

He had no need for an heir, and he cared little for his image (or rather knew it untouchable), so he didn’t want to follow their example. He should probably just ask his root for advice, she seemed to know what she was doing, but wouldn’t that be admitting his failure? Ah, why was this so complicated!

The problem of the vessel was no simpler, however, even after he rendered it to its simplest components. What did he need? A vessel must be capable of holding the Radiance, so it must be able to dream. Yet, it must also not have a mind. This seemed so contradictory at a glance that he almost gave up on the idea when he first had it.

It was then that he remembered one of his creations, the operation box. It was capable of “sensing” what was input into it, processing this information, and the writing out the answer. In practice, something went wrong about nine times out of ten, but the theory worked. And it did so without a single drop of soul, a single mote of essence, all through gears and strings.

Was the box able to dream? Of course not. But a sufficiently complex automaton? One with inputs comparing to a bug’s senses, a processing power large enough to make decisions as complex as a real living being? It would probably be able to enter a state resembling dream, but where the Radiance would be utterly powerless.

The only way he knew how to build such a complex machine was with the void. The kingsmould and wingsmould were proof that it could be imprinted with a schema; and use it, apply logical rules, to “think”. His original plan was to use the mind of a living being of soul, one of his children, as the schema to be imprinted. This way, he would achieve a “mind” as powerful as the one of his children, but devoid of any real emotion.

But now that he gave up this plan, he could see the flaw: the creature would not be soulless, for its shell would still be able to contain it. Whether or not it would taint the vessel was unsure, and now, he would never now. That was for the better, of course, but he still saw no other ways to build a vessel.

His years of engineering had taught him to think outside the box, and to see once again the fallacy of his judgement. He did not need to make a vessel, merely acquire it. in the vastness of the universe, there had to be a viable vessel somewhere, and with his foresight, he would find it.

The exercise was awkward, as he needed to bend the limits of his already hard to control power. But in the end, he had it, a vision of the spell that would bring his pure vessel to him. To his surprise, the being summoned looked almost biological. An automaton of flesh, thinking through chemical reactions or gods know what other means, but entirely devoid of soul.

Now that he knew what to look for, he could begin to work on the plan. The almost-living being would require more spells than anticipated to stay alive. One to turn the constant flow of soul entering the temple into nutrients, one to prevent any “aging” (degradation of its cells), and one to keep its “cerebral” activity as low as possible, plunging it into a deep coma.

As he was finishing the first drafts, he noticed that his hand was shaking. Why could it be? He looked at the clock, it was barely eleven in the morning, and he had started at ten. Which was weird, he was sure he had been working for more than an hour and… Wait. What day was it? He heard someone knock on the door.

He opened the door and found himself face to face with a retainer.

“Why are you here? This area of the palace is restricted.”

The bug bowed so low it was a wonder she didn’t fall.

“Apologies, your majesty. I was sent by the queen, because she was worried for you. You disappeared for three days and…”

“Three days! That can’t be right!”

“I’m afraid it is, your brightness.”

“Did… Did I miss…”

“The hatching of your eggs? Thankfully not, your majesty. The Lady…”

“No! the meeting in Deepnest, it should be in a few hours! I must go now!”

 “As I was saying, the Lady tasked me with informing you that visiting your children was, in fact, not optional, and you must do so immediately, lest you want to know the anger of a goddess.”

He could not run away from his duties as parent forever.

“Go to the station and tell them to prepare the fastest stag they can find. I won’t be long.”

He rushed to the future children’s quarters, half running, half flying, and arrived at the first room out of breath.

His lady was there, gently petting the egg in its cradle. In the cloudy fluid, the shape of a big head and a small body could be seen, if you paid close attention.

“Ah, my wyrm. Did you forgot the outside world existed again?”

“I found it, my root. The pure vessel. Hallownest will live, our children will grow up in peaceful kingdom. So yes, my excitement took me a little too far. But don’t think it was selfish.”

His wife looked only moderately convinced.

“Well, if you want to be able to keep working on that, what you need right now is a hearty meal and a nap.”

“Impossible, I have a meeting I must attend first.”

“Really? Are you not the king? Can’t you cancel any of your meetings if you need it?”

“Not when it’s with Herrah the Beast.”

Her expression shifted from anger to compassion. Few perspectives were less enjoyable than a meeting with the queen of Deepnest.

“On her territory, or ours?”

“I needed to make some concessions for her to consider it.”

“Very well. But don’t think you can use that as an excuse to not visit our other children.”

“Of course not.”

Had his sweet Lady always been so aggressive? He hoped that was only a temporary change due to instinct. After all, he felt an extreme urge to flee as fast as he could ever since the conception, which he knew came from wyrms reproduction practices. Not matter how much he reminded himself that the White could not even eat him, it felt wrong to stay in the same “nest” as her.

As he entered the second room, he took a moment to appreciate its design. The furniture was arranged in a way that separated clearly different spaces, for sleeping, working, playing, …

It had a large balcony above the palace’s inner gardens, and a hidden entrance for servants behind a bookshelf. In the middle stood a cradle, and in it, a small, glowing white orb. He pondered it for an instant.

It was so small! In his visions, the eggs were swollen with void, their shelf blackened until it looked like obsidian. But here, they looked like the most delicate thing in the world, exotic flowers that would only bloom if the conditions were perfect.

He had no time to get lost in thoughts, though. He moved on to the last room.

The egg there looked already full, and it was hard to make out the shape of the being growing in it. The King was worried it was a failure. After all, it wasn’t that uncommon, especially with hybrids. He did not dare to use his foresight on this problem, because he was afraid of being right.

Silently, he leaved the palace, and, carefully dodging any noble that would slow him down with their petty intrigues, reached the hidden stag station. It was useful to be able to move quickly from the palace while keeping it difficult to access for most people.

The ride was uneventful. It always was. And the Pale King used that time to study his future vessel through visions. There was something strange about it, but he could not pin down what.

Chapter Text

Deepnest was a powerful kingdom. For centuries, it had been the most developed region of the lands of Hallownest, but it was also divided. And its unification was the success of a single woman, not even born from the nobility.

Herrah the Beast created an army of warriors entirely devoted to her cause, and, one by one, had vassalized the lords and nobles of this vast land. She had reformed the realm, creating a strong, unified government centered in her new capital, the distant village. Said village was a marvel of engineering, only made possible by the weavers she had invited to her kingdom.

Under her influence, Deepnest had never been so strong and so prosperous. If things had went differently, she would no doubt be remembered as the greatest ruler Hallownest had ever seen.

But then the Pale King arrived.

He, too, unified a kingdom, and it was so vast it covered almost all Hallownest. In fact, he took the name for his own territory, and no one could contest. He, too, developed his land. He built splendid cities were before there was only rock, and mechanical marvels the world had never seen. His achievements literally outshined Herrah’s in every way.

And then, he tried to subjugate Deepnest, and failed. He could only fail, really, he knew it. The devout were too strong, the terrain too hostile. But the Pale King was a clever bug, and he found another role for Deepnest in his eternal society: the boogeyman.

Deepnest was the enemy. Deepnest was the reason the military budget was so high. Deepnest was the reason the mantises still had independence: not because Hallownest’s army got their asses kicked, but because they protected us from Deepnest. If a crisis occurred, the populace ought to obey, or Deepnest would take advantage of the situation.

The Pale King was acutely aware of all of that. He was responsible for it. He was also aware Herrah knew as well. And now, he was going to ask her to sacrifice decades of her life for a Kingdom that hated her, and that she hated. He knew the negotiations could succeed, thanks to his foresight, but he didn’t know how.

As he was escorted, with only Isma at his side, by a group of devout, he looked at the capital of the spider kingdom, and saw only wonders. Clusters of silk cocoons hanging from the ceiling like grapes, rope bridges wide enough to fit markets on their sides, and his trained eye did not miss the impressive weaver spellwork surrounding him.

While the Village was much smaller than the Silver City, it was clearly the capital of a strong ruler. It was a very expensive architecture, and with no real economic activity beyond being the seat of government. Its very existence was proof of Herrah’s absolute power on her kingdom, and it would collapse with it.

As he walked through the “streets”, the Pale King felt almost attacked. Everything was too bright, too colorful, too noisy. Silk fabric of every color know to bug was hanging from cables, that kept the city stable. They slowly gave way to dark blue flags, emblazoned with Herrah’s crest, as he was approaching the Beast’s Den.

The central piece of the Village, made of six small cocoons around a very large one, was a veritable fortress, despite its exposed location. As he entered, the Pale King was greeted by Deepnest’s court, with clearly forced smiles and unenthusiastic acclamations. Studying it, he could see the difference with his own.

Herrah’s court was full of commoners, be it devout, weavers, or others. Signs of hierarchy were almost absent. Everyone was treated not as an esteemed guest of a palace, but as a fellow inhabitant of a great common house. In a way, the Pale King envied her, but he knew the reason he could not fill his court with his favorite scholars and administrators.

He needed the nobles to rule, to extend his authority to the deepest corners of Hallownest, because he could not do it himself, no matter how powerful he was. People needed a closer, more “real” figure of authority to remember, for example, to pay their taxes. After all, in this era of near universal collapse, only the blade could ensure obedience.

Herrah knew it, too. That’s why she made a show of her strength. That’s why, instead of waiting for him lazily seated on a throne, she was walking towards him, surrounded by her elite guards, and “politely” invited him to a more private part of the castle. The only reason he accepted was because he never foresaw his assassination in these circumstances. It still worried him when Isma was invited to talk with a few military officers instead of following him.

They walked through banquet halls, weapon smithing workshops and kitchens before reaching a luxurious bedroom. It took him only a glance at the size of the bed to understand it was Herrah’s own.

“Here. We won’t be disturbed. Now, tell me, what do you want from me?”

“Are you familiar with my plan to fight the infection?”

“You want to contain it in a ‘pure vessel’, whatever that means. I also heard it faced a major issue recently.”

“That is true. But that only forced me to perfection it further. I assure you the solution will be applicable in a reasonable…”

“Keep your glorious speeches for your bootlickers, wyrm, and get to the point!”

“To guaranty the integrity of the seal, I will need to plunge three bugs in permanent sleep. The more famous and powerful they are, the better. They will wake up if I find a more permanent solution to the problem. Though… I’m not certain I will find one.”

“And you want me to be one of them.”

“Indeed. I know becoming a dreamer is a huge demand, but you may ask for almost any compensation.”

“Any?”

“Almost.”

“Well, let’s say… Exclusivity on the silk market for Deepnest, treaty of shared technologies, of course perpetual treaty of non-aggression, with an attaché to make sure no hostile preparations are being made.”

“Would that be enough?”

“To make up for your previous actions against Deepnest? Yes. But to convince me to give up my life, you’ll need a little more.”

“That is to say?”

“First, reparations, maybe… 30% of our budget for every year I stay asleep.”

“And if you never wake up?”

“Well, too bad for you. Second, give me an heir.”

“What do you mean? I can’t exactly hand out children… Wait. That’s not what you meant.”

“Correct, wyrm.”

“And considering the room we are in, you want to ‘complete this part of the bargain’ right now.”

“Correct again.”

“But… I did not even ask my wife!”

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“You think I will abandon my child?”

“Well, you never stroke me as a family bug. Would you really accept them as a prince of Hallownest?”

“No. But as my child, of course.”

“That’s … surprisingly generous of you.”

“It won’t take a genius to figure out their father anyway, since they’ll probably glow in the dark.”

“May I take this as a positive answer?”

“You may, Beast.”

“Using pet names already? It is true we’ll soon be quite close…”

“Don’t push your luck, Herrah.”

Chapter Text

Hallownest was not ready for the coming event. The royal couple was never meant to have children; immortals needed no heirs. And when it happened, it was not after a long coming and carefully planned decision, but more after an accident. This left only a few months to plan for the birth of the three children.

Or two, thought grimly the Pale King. One of the eggs looked ready to burst with an unnamable mass of flesh, an abomination with too many limbs and not enough eyes. He could only hope its status as a higher being would not keep it alive and in pain.

His short respite after finishing the preparations for containing the infection was coming to an end. Before him were reunited his three eggs. The White Lady was standing by his side, and the only other person in the room was a midwife. Not the bearer of that word, who resided in Deepnest, but a very competent and trustworthy one.

The egg in the center started to move. A small, white, almost translucent claw pierced the soft shell, followed by another. In a swift movement of a tiny nail, the midwife opened a large incision in the shell, and helped the small child out.

The King had difficulty breathing; the sheer excitement made him glow brighter than usual. He was a father. A father! He looked at his child. They had a small, white body, with only four limbs: two legs and two arms. Atop of it, they had a big, mask-like head, made of a material resembling wood. Two big, round eyes, completely black like his own, were staring at him in wonder. They had tree slender, elegant horns: two long ones on a side and one short one on the other.

Once his amazement wore off, the wyrm realized several things. He had still no idea how to be a father, no mystical instinct kicked in now that he had a progeny. This small baby was his first-born, and as such the heir to the throne of Hallownest. Said baby also needed a name, and he had no idea what he could name them.

Thankfully, his Root proved more imaginative.

“Welcome to the world, Achela.”

Achela was cleaned without complaining. In fact, they still hadn’t produced a sound. At this realization, the Pale King froze. Could it be… No! they had not been exposed to a single drop of void!

He rushed to his child, prompting them to burst into laughter. At that, he laughed too, and his worries disappeared. The Lady lifted them with a root, and held them against her trunk, where they fell asleep.

The monarchs just stayed there, enjoying the moment, but before long, the egg on the left started to show activity. They turned their attention to it, after carefully putting Achela in their cradle. In an almost exact recreation of Achela’s birth, the second child, Vertan, emerged from their egg before falling asleep.

The King and the Lady waited for almost an hour, hoping the last egg would show signs of activity. After it became clear it would not hatch today, they sent it back to its room. The Pale King could only wonder, would it ever hatch? Would this being be stuck forever in a stasis, unable to die thanks to its divinity?

These reflections would have to wait. For now, he needed to worry about his living children. They would be presented to the crowd tomorrow, but for now, they needed sleep. He and the Lady both went towards the cradles, only for their children to wake up as soon as they picked them up.

As it turned out, they already knew how to work, which was only moderately surprising coming from the progeny of the god of higher thoughts. They followed their parents to their room, Achela gently pulling the king’s robe, while Vertan was trying to hug the queen while walking, which made their movements a bit akward.

After they reached the master bedroom of the palace, the pale beings placed their children in the middle of the bed, with one parent on each side. They all united in one big family hug and began to fall asleep in that position. The sheer amount of warmth and light emitted made the Pale King feel better than ever before. As he was about to fall asleep, a spike of guilt went through is chest.

He almost killed them. How could he have been so blind, him, who was so proud of his foresight. Too proud, perhaps. Definitely. And no matter how much he told himself he avoided the worst, and his new plan didn’t sacrifice anyone, that was simply not true. What of the dreamers, sent to a fate not much different than death, possibly for eternity? What of the pure vessel, was it not a living, even thinking being in some ways?

His belief that there was no cost too great almost gave birth to a tragedy, who could say the risk was gone? But before he could answer this question, the king fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

----------------------------------------

The next day, the Pale King woke up alone, and almost screamed in terror. But his wife immediately appeared in his field of view, reassuring him.

“Good morning, dear. I didn’t want to wake you up, since you clearly needed that sleep.”

“I… Where are the kids?”

He got out of bed with the swiftness and agility of a centipede, only to see his children drawing, thankfully not on the floor, but on pieces of parchment placed on it.

“Father!” called Achela, almost giving him a heart attack.

“You can speak?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we?”, asked Vertan.

Because of the void. No. That was not real. The vision would not happen. He remembered the white floor of the abyss he saw in one of his visions as he looked to his children’s mask. It was a bit fuzzy, but… No. That was not real, that would not happen!

“Because you’re one day old?”

“And? The first bugs of Hallownest knew how to speak as soon as you granted them a mind.”

“Yes, but… Ah, never mind. I just expected to have to handle babies, instead of…”

“Father, look! I drew you and mother!”

The quality of the drawing and the enthusiasm of Achela certainly proved they were still young children in mind, despite their fast development. So… Where to go on from there? He should maybe try to build a new routine as soon as possible.

“Well, have you taken breakfast already?”

“Yes! There was honey, and it was very good!”

“I am afraid you slept in, my wyrm”, explained the Lady.

“What? Hum… When… When will we present them to the court?”

“As soon as they are properly clothed.”

Yes. They were naked. While not necessarily problematic, it would be more proper for them to wear clothing considering how they behaved.

“I should ask the royal tailors to come, then.”

“Already done. They should arrive soon.”

As always, his wife was better than him on all matters of organization.

The children were very exited at the idea of getting clothes, which made the process of getting their measurements rather difficult for the poor servants. Then, came the matter of choosing the fabric. Achela went for a very light gray, almost white silk, very much in accord with the palace’s aesthetic. Vertan, on the other claw, chose the greenest cloth of the selection (which was still very pale).

While his kids were getting dressed, the king was studying the various reports he had received since he went to take of his family. The kingdom would never stop needing to be ruled, after all. There was no major news, thankfully. The infection was still well-contained, and the only notable event was the apprehension of an unknown intruder in the palace, which was worrying, but could wait.

He turned away from his desk, only to find his children practically jumping on him.

“Father! Look how pretty we are!”

“Your cloak is too big, it’s ugly!”

“No, it’s not. You’re ugly!”

“Alright, everyone calms down. You’re going to meet the nobles of the kingdom soon, is this really the impression you want to give them?”

“No, mother”, they answered simultaneously.

“Good. Then show your clothes to your father, but calmly.”

Achela wore a great cloak, long enough to reach the floor. It started straight and tight, then became wider like a dress around the middle of their body. Its sleeves ended with a silver r covered in vegetal patterns. The crest of Hallownest was emblazoned on the back.

Vertan, by contrast, wore a simple cloak, which left their legs exposed. It was disturbingly close to the “cloaks” the vessel’s atrophied wings would have become. Speaking of which, why didn’t his children have those? Well, it would probably come with a molting.

“Well, I do believe you’ll be ready to meet the kingdom’s nobility at lunch. In the meantime, you should probably visit the royal family’s quarters.”

He rang a bell, and two retainers came out of a “dresser” (actually a hidden passage for this purpose), awaiting orders.

“Please, take your princes for a tour of their quarters, and bring them back here by noon.”

The servants bowed, then each one took a kid by hand, showing no surprise at their maturity. They were professionals, after all.

For the first time since he woke up, the Pale King felt like he could breathe for a bit. So far, everything went well with his children. With a little luck, it would last.

Chapter Text

When the Pale King created Hallownest, he knew he couldn’t administer it alone. No god could, especially not him. He appeared in public around once a week, it simply wasn’t doable. So, to rule his kingdom, he relied on two powers. His top scholars, administrator and knights, in which he had all confidence, and the nobles, in which he had no confidence.

Unfortunately, the existence of nobles was unavoidable: were he to get rid of the current ones and replace them by a brand-new caste, it would surely fall into the same trap, and become only interested in their land and wealth. So, he kept the ones that emerged at the awakening of minds, rather than corrupting a group of still useful bugs.

Unfortunately, the nobles still needed to be contented, which was why the court existed. This repulsive crowd of greedy and narcissistic bugs that spent their time backstabbing each other for miniscule gains, that sold their children for alliances (what else was arranged marriage?), that would kill their parents and siblings for a title. That was what the king had to deal with any lightday, from lunch to dinner.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to act like he even remotely cared. The nobles would have to just deal with that. The lengths they went to convince others they had somehow gained his attention were admittedly entertaining. The entire court was, really, if you forgot that these were some of the most powerful personalities in Hallownest, and that their decisions would shape the lives of millions.

But today, court would be much more entertaining than usual. Today, the nobles wouldn’t only have to deal with a bored king and a tone-deaf queen, but also two over-excited princes. Arguably, there were few worst places to go with children, but maintaining his power needed some sacrifices. Besides, they were higher beings, they would be fine.

He entered the room first, with the White Lady and their children in tow.

The noise coming from the crowd stopped entirely. No one showed their surprise at the fact that the royal children could already walk and talk. Without a word, the king and queen sat at their thrones at the end of a great table. Achela and Vertan were guided to their seats, next to their parents, by two servants.

The nobles followed, each one already knew precisely their seats, just as they knew their place in the endless political wars that tore the court apart under the gilded surface of politeness.

The grand hall was still deathly silent, despite containing more than a thousand bugs. Not even the royal children dared to make a sound. Then, there was some noise, not much, but it was noticeable. The noise of chitin legs hitting the marble floor, of fabric rubbing against itself, as the servants brought to the tables an array of delicate dishes. The nobles kept still.

Finally, the king stood up. He never knew how to begin these assemblies, but he could not escape this ritual. The nobles needed to feel this submission to his power, this occasion to show off how absolute his control over their lives was, because that’s all they understood.

He didn’t need to be reminded that he was the absolute ruler of every thing, first of all because that wasn’t true, second because if it was, he would probably remember it. But if the nobles were in that position, they wouldn’t, and so he needed to act like he needed this proof, lest they believe his authority wasn’t absolute.

Ho. He had been lost in his thoughts while everyone waited for him to speak. Quick, think of something! What was his root’s advice again? Be honest with what he thought?

“My dear friends…” So much for honesty.

“…I am proud to present to you our children, Crown Prince Achela and Prince Vertan. Despite their extremely young age, I think you’ll find them mature and…”

How to put it?

“…I think they’ll bring a little welcome liveliness to this sometimes too sterile palace.”

It wasn’t brilliant, but it would have to do.

“Now, enjoy your day, in honor of your new princes!”

The room erupted into chatter and sounds of clinging metal. The crowd of nobles looked like a sea of white, moving like waves as the courtesans rose to announce proudly whatever they deemed or curled down to whisper with their neighbors.

To his surprise, the court soon settled in its usual dynamic. A formidable army of nobles attacked him, convinced than because they held three patches of grass in wherever, insignificance-land, he owed to hear their complaints about their neighbor’s outrageous body paint.

A no less formidable group was circling around the queen, trying to earn her favors, while she sought only genuine friendships. The closest anyone came to this was Emilitia, and all she earned for her troubles so far were bouquets of flowers. That didn’t discourage anyone from trying, however.

And then, there were the children, left almost alone. Right now, the only noble with them was the Soul Master, perhaps the only bearable court member. He was enthusiastically explaining his work to his young audience, who listen to him with a moderate interest. They were bored.

And the nobles were to blame for that. They treated the presentation of their new princes like they would the announcement of whatever party held by the duke of the western crossroads: they looked at what they could gain from it, and courageously chose to do nothing until they knew more.

It was only three hours in the court when the Pale King was startled by a retainer coming from his back, who leaned next to him and whispered in his hear.

“My liege, a second intruder has been found in the palace.”

He couldn’t deal with that right now, or he would anger the noble by calling off the court early without reason, since he couldn’t admit such a risk was present. On the other hand, there was a major flaw in the palace’s security, which needed fixing right now.

He could only hope for a good reason to present itself soon. For now, he looked to what his children were doing. Achela apparently had understood the way the court worked and was busy extorting extra slices of honey cake from nobles by insinuating they could bring their complaints to his hears.

Vertan, on the other hand, looked completely lost, and was trying to reach either of their parents, but was blocked by the crowd. The king would have liked to help, but that would show to the world that his children were a powerful way to reach him, which would then put them in a worse position.

There was a lot of movement next to the White Lady.

“I will not tolerate this insult from a first generation noble, someone born a commoner!”

Oh no. There began the problems. He snaped his fingers, and for once, the nobility was obedient. The crowed opened for him as he walked towards the source of the noise. Sure enough, Countess Avila was once again asking Baroness Emilitia for a dual, under a probably false pretense.

“What is it, this time?”

“Your majesty, exile her from this kingdom at once! This wretched liar sent me a letter implying she had proof I was a bastard.”

“May I see this letter?”

“No, for in my righteous anger, I threw it in the canal!”

“Very well. Then you have no proof. No need for a dual.”

Hallownest’s nobility had never been a warrior caste, unlike some other kingdoms. Yet, for some reason, duals were thought of as an easy way to clean their honor. The results were predictably disastrous (and painful to watch for an experienced fighter).

“Very well. We shall not fight over this matter. However, I still ask for a dual, as I feel my honor has been sufficiently insulted even ignoring this letter!”

“So be it. I cannot let such an insult stand.” Emilitia stood up.

The White Lady tried to keep calm her down, to no avail. The Pale King gave up, and nails were brought to the “fighters”. Guards formed a circle, to prevent outside intervention. In theory, at least.

In practice, when after a few clumsy clashes, it looked like Avilia was about to lend a strike, the Pale King watched in horror as a light green figure jumped over them, and darted towards the countess, with a swiftness he didn’t his children capable of. He heard a sickly crunch as the nail broke into Vertan’s soft shell. Everyone watched in confusion.

“I don’t want you to hurt this lady! She’s nice to mother!”

They seemed to pay no attention to their wound, to the transparent hemolymph that was dripping from it, to the pain that surely consumed their side. The king ran towards them, on all his legs like the beast he was deep down, to hold their progeny in his arms. He stopped himself right before hissing at the bug that dared hurt his child, and instead declared:

“I believe we are done for today.”

Later that day, in the palace’s infirmary, the Pale King reflected on what had gone wrong. His child had been badly injured the second day of their life, and it was his fault. He knew the court was dangerous, though he did not expect it to manifest so physically, yet he brought them there.

Did he really think the presence of his children would cease all intrigues and squabbles? Did he thought the nobles would have an inkling of genuine concern for them? That their birth would protect them from the harshness of the world?

In their sleep, they looked peaceful, happy. He would not let them get injured again, he would never hurt them again. The intruder problem could wait tomorrow. Vertan was more important. He would stay with them all night, if need be.

As he was himself drifting into slumber, he wondered: what if he kept making mistakes, hurting people, while doing what he thought was best? What if he kept doing everything wrong, until his kingdom collapsed? What if that was his punishment for thinking he could establish an eternal kingdom, as the twilight of civilization was looming on the horizon?

That night, the Pale King had a dream. He was with… A moth? It was hard to tell. They had a great cloak and fiery red eyes, and their manners, though utterly foreign to Hallownest, were elegant and refined. They were both holding a glass of an unidentifiable dark red liquid, that was sticking to the sides.

They raised the glasses at the same time, until they hit each other, producing a cling. It was a strange movement, but he felt as if it was intended. The moth spoke, in a raspier voice than anything he had heard before, sounding like the fire in their eyes was devouring their lungs:

“To the success of the Pure Vessel plan.”

“And to all the conveniently mindless beings of this world”, he added without knowing why. He drank just a droplet from his glass. The taste was … off. Alien, metallic, he knew not how to describe it. As the liquid entered his throat, he felt it swelling, multiplying with incredible vitality. He coughed, and no air came out, only this thick, red, ooze.

He could not breathe, he was drowning, he could feel it expanding in every opening in his body, it was coming out of his eyes!

He woke up, still coughing. He took his still sleeping child in his arms and pat their head, more to reassure himself than them.

Bad dreams were rarely a good omen. Even less for those with foresight.

Chapter Text

The Pale King didn’t leave his child until after they woke up. Since they had that nightmare at about four in the morning, he just did paperwork for four hours straight. It was boring, but it needed to be done eventually, so he might as well use the occasion.

After he made sure Vertan would be alright and in the care of their mother, he went about actually running his kingdom. To his relief, his progeny seemed to have a very high healing rate, which wasn’t so surprising considering their divine heritage.

As such, his mind was free to focus on the matters of the state. Where to begin? Well, in his office, he supposed. The corridors of the palace felt very empty, as always in the morning. Only a few retainers were wandering about. Most people could simply not enter a major part of the palace, and most of his advisors lived outside, and would only arrive later in the morning.

The knights and guards did leave here, but they only left their wing when ordered to, so for now, the palace was empty and quiet. And it was very well this way. And then, he heard a familiar voice, and his day got significantly worse.

“My liege! Finaly, I found you.”

It was Lurien.

Now, the Watcher was not an unpleasant bug to be around, on the contrary. The king considered him a good friend for many reasons. Most notably, despite his servile attitude, he was never afraid to tell him when he thought he was wrong. And though it was rare for him to point out one of the wyrm’s mistakes (hopefully because he didn’t make many), when he did, he was often right.

However, Lurien was the Watcher, and if at this hour he was not watching over the city but instead trying to meet him unannounced, that meant he saw something exceptional that night. And these days, exceptional was never good.

“What is it, Watcher?”

“A death, your majesty.”

“Who?”

“Baroness Emilitia. But the victim is not the problem: it is the way of death. The autopsy reveled no physical damage. Simply, all her soul was has seemingly disappeared from her body.”

“And you think this is the infection?”

“What else could it be, my king?”

“I did not foresee such a symptom. However, if the plague as already reach the stage where it can kill in an evening…”

“This incident aside, the lethality rate for cases in the last month has reached 6%. It doubled since last year! And it keeps worsening. What could have passed as a benign disease when it first appeared, were it not for your foresight, might become an existential threat within five years! Which brings me to the second reason I wanted to see you: when will the sealing be enacted?”

“Everything is ready. I will organize a meeting with the other dreamers as soon as possible so we can settle on a date. For now, I…”

“Your majesty! There you are!”

Well, that was two out of three. Monomon was floating towards him, visibly in a hurry.

“My king, Watcher. I’m afraid we are in a bit of a situation. An ooma showed signs of the infection.”

“What? But they’re about as mindless as it gets!”

“Indeed, they are, but they’re still vulnerable. Thankfully, they can’t do much except stand in the way. But I worry for the purity of the vessel. And the fact that you denied my request to inspect its blueprints isn’t very reassuring.”

“If I may, my king, I must admit that I’d like to know what I’ll spend decades of my life protecting.”

The wyrm would love, too, the blueprints of the construct he would use to save his kingdom.

“Do you trust my foresight?”

“Yes!” answered enthusiastically Lurien. Monomon was more hesitant.

“Well, it did fail you at least once.”

“For Root’s sake, Teacher, you can’t be doubting me because of that one time!”

She chuckled.

“Well, you really didn’t saw it coming. But no, as amusing as that event was, I was referring to the Blackwyrm.”

“But she only took me by surprise because I wasn’t looking for her. The situation here is not comparable!”

“In that case, I guess I’ll have to trust you.”

It was then that they heard a great commotion in the closest corridor. To be precise, they heard a kingsmould throwing its weapon, followed by a sickening crunch, the clang of a metal armor falling on the flour and the splashing of a heavy liquid. The Pale King figured out what happened before the third dreamer opened the door wide, here battle mace covered in void.

“Wyrm! I thought we had a truce! Why are your guards still attacking me?”

“A truce does not mean ‘stop protecting my home from intruders armed with a mace’, Beast. Now, I suppose you’re here for a good reason, but maybe this isn’t the kind of conversion fit for a random hallway. Please, follow me to my office. Lurien and Monomon too.”

The trip was as pleasant as it was short, and it was excruciatingly long. Lurien and Herrah clearly disliked each other, and Monomon didn’t say a word, so the four just stayed in awkward silence while everyone who crossed their path gasped at the presence of the enemy queen in the heart of Hallownest.

When they finally reached the king’s office, he locked the door with a sigh of relief.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Herrah pulled a large stone tablet from under her cloak. It was one of the blueprints that had been sent to Deepnest as part of the deal. Lurien gasped in shock.

“Where did you find that?”

“That’s none of your business, butterfly. What I want to know, wyrm, is where you’ve been getting the weaver silk clearly required for these machines.”

“You know, there are other weavers out there.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I know for sure that the last weavers still alive are either in Deepnest or Pharloom, and there’s no way you’re trading with that mad kingdom. So, I think it’s far more likely that the Hallownestian government has been buying goods on the black market this entire time!”

 “I admit. We did. But now, we have a truce, and a trade agreement, so it won’t happen again.”

“You’re going to pay all of your trade taxes with interests before the end of the month.”

“Of course, that can be arranged. Now, on to the reason I wanted to see you three…”

Lurien intervened.

“Wait, what is happening here! The queen of Deepnest shows up unannounced, with blueprints of patented Hallownestian technologies, ask for money, and your reaction is: ‘of course, that can be arranged’?! Your majesty, are you mad?”

“As I was saying, since all three dreamers are present…”

Despite his mask, the Watcher managed to look outraged.

“Herrah is the third dreamer? Who thought this was a good idea?”

The king took his head in his upper hands. Monomon looked to side, trying (and failing) to look innocent.

“Really? Teacher, I was expecting more logic coming from you.”

“But it was a logical proposition! She has a very strong will, is probably the most famous of us three, and convincing her to join would make acquiring the silk for the seals of binding much easier.”

It was too much for the king.

“Can I please speak without being interrupted in my own office!”

The dreamers stopped bickering.

“Thank you. As you know, Hallownest is under the threat of a terrible plague. It cannot be fought by conventional means, for it is not a conventional disease. In fact, and this information must never be reveled to the general public, it is the working of an enemy goddess.”

He could literally smell their confusion in the air, despite thinking bugs normally not using pheromones. Herrah voiced the thought of her companions.

“What?”

“Long ago, the moth tribe revered a being called the Radiance. She was born of their dreams of warmth and comfort, and as such, her ascension to godhood made her a goddess of light and dreams. But when I arrived in Hallownest, they started to venerate me, too.

The Radiance had no physical form, as such, she relied much more on the faith of her followers to maintain her power. As such, she wasn’t ready to share. She encouraged the moths to fight my followers, but the tribe were convinced pacifists. Disgusted by her, they turned entirely to me. I thought that this killed her, or at least deprive her of her powers since she’s immortal. I was wrong.

When the infection appeared, I tried to fight her in the dream realm, but… It was her territory. She was too strong there, and almost killed me. After that, I devised a plan to contain her, at first for eternity, then, when I realized it wasn’t possible, long enough to find a better solution.”

The dreamer remained silent for a few second. Herrah spoke first.

“But, if she’s angry at your followers, why is the infection hitting Deepnest?”

“The infection is hitting Deepnest? But that doesn't make sense!”

“Yes, that’s… What I just said. You didn’t know?”

“Your government isn’t exactly transparent on what’s happening in your territory, Herrah. But then, if you accepted my proposition…”

“It was to save my kingdom, yes. The deal was only because you were desperate, and I wouldn’t pass this occasion.”

“Fair”, conceded Lurien.

“I should have asked for extra funding”, cursed Monomon.

Before the Beast could turn his best advisors against him even further, the Pale King concluded:

“So, the only thing left is to choose a date for the sealing. Everything is ready for me.”

“For me as well”, answered Lurien

“Quirrel should have completed his anti-aging treatment in three days”, added Monomon.

“I only ask to see my child before being sealed”, finished Herrah. The Teacher beamed.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were expecting. Congratulations!”

“What do… Pale King, who did you inform of the full terms of our deal?”

“Well.” Lurien was visibly angry. “If the king and queen were for some reason unable to rule, I would be regent. As such, I could be considered the third highest member of government. I didn’t even know of a deal beyond the truce and commercial agreement.”

The queen of Deepnest sighed. “Did you at least tell your wife?”

“No.”, the wyrm admitted shamefully.

“Alright, well, you better do it before the 23^rd of Greymonth, because that’s the estimated date of birth of our child. I expect you to be there.”

“Well, alright. Then the sealing will be done on the 24^th.”

Lurien was apparently still in shock, while Monomon just laughed.

“Hang on a second, you had a child with HER! Your majesty, I demand an audience right now.”

The king dismissed the two other dreamers. He felt like it was going to be a long day.

******

He was right. After Lurien’s “How am I supposed to advise you if I don’t know half of what you’re doing” lecture, he was already quite late on his urgent work, which lead to him skipping lunch to catch up. After that, he gave orders so that everything would be ready for the sealing on time. At four PM, long before he usually stopped, he already felt like his head was going to blow up. Why was running a kingdom so much harder than designing machines? The White Lady entered the room.

“My wyrm.”

“My root.”

“You’ve not talked to your children since this morning.”

This was a reproach, and he would not get out by pleading not guilty.

“I was busy.”

“But when are you not?”

“I… Uh… Sometimes?”

“Your family is not something you can neglect, dear, especially not when you have children. It is not something you do when your schedule is clear, it’s to be treated as a part of it.”

“But the kingdom…”

“The kingdom doesn’t collapse when you spend several days in your workshop, it can survive without you tending to it every instant. Our children, however…”

“But I have so much work to do!”

“Does all of it needs to be done by you in particular?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Then delegate.”

“To whom?”

“You trust Lurien with ruling the kingdom in our absence. Make him rule it when we’re absent to take care of our children.”

“But he already has so much work too! I don’t want to exploit him!”

“Then find someone, and then work less. This is an order from the rightful Lady of this land, and you would do well to follow it, pale invader!”

“You’re a pale being too.”

“But I’m not an invader.”

They laughed at the recollection of their first meeting. The king conceded:

“Fine, you won. I couldn’t do much more anyway.”

He spent one of the most pleasant evenings of his life, playing with his children in the garden, telling them stories, laughing at their antics at diner.

He felt almost as carefree as them, as if the kingdom, the plague, the court were only bad dreams. Vertan was fully healed from the incident and didn’t seem bothered at all by almost dying yesterday. These few hours were pure bliss, and it all came crashing down after the children were asleep, and his wife asked him a simple question:

“And the third one?”

They still hadn’t checked on the last egg. He was afraid of what he’d found. As he slowly opened the door, his fears were not confirmed, but replaced by far worse ones: the egg had disappeared.

The alarm was given, he would investigate the entire kingdom, if necessary, but he would find it.

But after two infructuous hours of search by everyone that could reasonably help, still nothing. He decided to sleep on the problem, as his root had already chosen an hour ago.

But he couldn’t sleep. In their bed, he kept turning the event in every angle. Concentrate, wyrm, start at the beginning. The kidnapper must have access to the palace, either legally or…

Oh.

The intruders!

Chapter Text

It wasn’t rare for the Pale King to be awake at unreasonable hours. It was rarer for him to wake up people for their help. He almost never talked to his warden. The combination of those last two things was unprecedented. But so was the kidnapping of a kingdom’s prince.

And so, two bugs were entering the palace’s dungeon at the ungodly (or perhaps palekingly) hour of three in the morning. The warden went to fetch the prisoners, while the king waited in the guard room, where he would conduct the interrogation. Thanks to his sharp wyrm hearing, he could follow the conversation happening from afar.

“Wake up, you scum! The king in person wants to speak to you, so you better not waste his time.”

“Finaly! I’ll have a few complaints about the way this establishment treats its guests.” The voice was much higher pitched than the warden’s.

“I thought I already taught you to behave! Do you need a reminder?”

He heard a club hitting a shell and said shell breaking under the pressure. He feared for the worst when instead of a scream of pain, a second high-pitched voice called out “K!”

“I’m fine, H. I’m… I can still stand.”

He then heard his warden call for the prisoners to go faster, while the sound of their steps told him that “K” was limping quite badly.

“Here there are, your majesty. Not fully cooperative, but…” The warden shrugged.

The king’s hemolymph froze.

“Warden… Leave us alone.”

“I… of course, your majesty.” He left with a bow.

Before the king stood two small bugs, with little white bodies and big masks with dark eyes. They were naked and bruised, and one of them had an open wound on their right leg. They both had curved horns, but it was the most visible difference between them. It was also probably where their names came from. The injured one had long, slender horns that separated in two at the end, vaguely resembling the character “K” of the Hallownestian phonetic script. The other had stubbier horns, with points on the inner parts, looking like an “H”.

They were a little smaller than his other… Than his children, it was too early to jump to conclusions. Their shells also looked a little loose, which is never, NEVER a good sign.

“You’re done staring? We can start? I’d like to go back to sleep.” K was visibly unimpressed with the king.

“Who are you?”

“I’m H, and this is K, your majesty.”

“Oh, there’s no need to… I mean you can call me… Just ‘king’ is fine.” Don’t jump to conclusions! “So, what are you doing here?”

“Being prisoners. What did you expect?”

“No, I meant what were you doing in the palace?”

“We were looking for food, your majesty. Please forgive us! We know stealing is wrong, but we were lost and scared and hungry and…” H was panicking. They were… Scared. Of him. Of the punishment he would inflict them. His felt his heart sink.

“It’s alright. You won’t be punished anymore. I just need you to tell me how you got in the palace.”

“What do you mean, how did we get in? We were born here!”

Well, that was pretty much a confirmation. But as he thought about it, there was something that didn’t make sense. There were two children.

“What happened to your eggs?”

“We ate it.”

“Excuse me?”

“As previously stated, we were hungry. The shell was soft enough for our mandibles, so we ate it. Soon after, we got hungry again, so I left the room we were born in to look for more food, while H remained there, hidden, to figure out whose room it was. I was captured by your guards, and they threw me in jail, quite literally in fact.”

“After that, I was practically starving, and since my sibling still hadn’t returned, I went looking for food myself. I was caught and sent to the same cell as them, where your warden nicknamed us ‘H’ and ‘K’ because of our horns. Since our parents never gave us a name, we adopted those. That’s about it for our lives.”

He felt terrible. He messed up so badly, but something still didn’t make sense…

“How do you know you are siblings?” He couldn’t ask them ‘where did one how you come from, there was only one egg.’

“Well, first of all, have you looked at us? Second, we came out of the same egg, so it would be difficult to not be siblings.”

“Of the same egg? But that’s impossible.”

“My apologies, your majesty, I thought you wanted the truth, not a lie fitting your vision of what is possible or not.”

It did explain some things, now that he thought about it. They were smaller and malnourished, because their resources were split in two. The being in the egg looked so amorph because it was actually two beings. They were his children, and he abandoned them, and they ended up in his prison, and got beaten up by his guards. Where there any hope to repair their relationship?

An idea briefly crossed his mind. They didn’t know he was their father. Nobody knew, except him. He could just send them out far away, maybe Dirtmouth or the Crystal Peak, with a few trusted servants to take care of them. And that way, he could escape the very awkward explanation, the humiliation to admit his failure.

No. He would not flee his problems. He already abandoned them once, that would never happen again.

“I am your father.”

Saying it should have felt so good, liberating. But he felt crushed by the weight of the shock and incredulity created by his declaration. Finally, K said to H, acting as if they didn’t want him to hear but clearly intending the opposite:

“I think he’s lying.”

“No, it’s true, I…”

“If you were our father, would you really have left our egg without constant surveillance? You have like twelve quintillion servants or something. Would your guards not have recognized us? Would…”

“In my defense, the kingsmoulds are not capable of high enough reasoning to recognize people that weren’t inscribed in their database.”

“Oh, well in that case you’re not at fault at all! No, it’s entirely because of the moron who put machines incapable of reasoning in charge of sending people to jail.”

The Pale King took his head in his hands and began to cry. They were right. He messed up. It was entirely his fault. His children were shocked at his reaction, and H jumped to hug him, followed by K as fast as their stump leg allowed.

Why? He didn’t deserve comfort; he was the one who hurt them! It was him who should reassure them!

“It’s alright. We need to take care of you first.”

He lifted K from the ground, despite their protest, and gave them a piggyback ride to the infirmary. There, both children were examined by a physician. It did not take, and she concluded:

“Well. I’m afraid my expertise is not with higher beings, but…”

“But?”

“I don’t even know how they’re alive.” He was not expecting that bad of a situation.

“What do you mean?”

“There are not many examples of children born with less than the resources of their egg, but in all of them, the subjects were barely viable, and needed extreme care, and a lot of carefully chosen food. Considering how they’ve been treated since their birth, the only explanation as to why they’re still alive is a miracle.”

“A mira…” Of course, they were higher beings, meaning they could heal by focusing their soul! A trip to the palace’s hot springs would be in order. But first…

“So, you think we should give them a meal right now?”

“Oh definitely, let’s see, they’ll need sugar, carbohydrates… Can they eat meat?”

“Yes.”

“Great, then I believe I have everything I need right here.”

She pulled out a box of smoked meat, and another of dry biscuit. He recognized it as military rations.

“You’re not going to give that to the princes, are you?”

“Why not? It has everything they need, it’s very nourishing, and the sooner they eat, the better. I’d rather not wait an hour for a meal to be cooked. Besides, it’s four in the morning, the cooks are not here.”

The children welcomed the military rations with an enthusiasm unfitting of their status, describing them as the best thing they’d ever eaten, and leaving the king to wonder just how bad the food in his jails was. After that, they made a short trip to the nearest soul totem, and he gave the children a quick lesson on focusing. Soon, their shells were like new, and they went to bed in the infirmary, trying to get a couple more hours of sleep before dawn.

The Pale King was left alone to wonder how he would explain the situation to his family, his friends and the general public. He also remembered that he had another thing to tell everyone.

The wyrm was a king, a god, as high in society as you can get. The curse he let out was beneath his position several times over.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t rare for the White Lady to wake up alone. Her husband’s conception of time was… Well, it was what it was, and she’d gave up on changing it long ago. Given the current circumstances, he probably went to look for the missing egg in the middle of the night. Against her advice, of course. Ho well.

She went to check on her children; they were both still asleep. Not wanting to wake them up, she went to tend her gardens in the palace, as she often did during the morning. They were nowhere near as large or colorful as her real gardens, but they were a good distraction.

To her surprise, the king was waiting for her near the pond, in which were playing… two of their offsprings?

“Good day, my wyrm. Mind explaining to me what’s going on?”

“Very good day indeed. Meet our twins!”

“Twins? What does that mean?”

As soon as she mentioned them, the children dashed towards her at an impressive speed, getting a proportional amount of water out of the pond.

“Mother!”

“Mom!”

“Sorry, they were bored of waiting, and I couldn’t say no.”

“It’s alright, dear. I couldn’t either.”

She was holding each one in a root, while they were hugging her with impressive strength.

“But I still have no idea what’s going on, or where one of them comes from.”

“Ah, yes. See, they are twins, meaning they were born form the same egg.”

“That’s possible?”

“Evidently. According to my research, such phenomena only happened in a class of higher beings called mammals, but clearly, it was incomplete.”

“But why didn’t we saw them when we went to check on the egg?”

Her husband looked embarrassed. The child with the thin horns explained.

“One idiot didn’t even realize his guards had sent his own children to jail.”

“More or less, yes. I’m sorry, I know it was a grave mistake, that could have been easily avoided, and I’ve no excuse for that.”

The other child chimed in.

“Don’t worry about it, father. You’re forgiven.”

“Speak for yourself, H”

At that, she reacted.

“H?”

Her husband explained.

“They don’t have names yet, only nicknames base on their horns. We should probably get them some, and also clothes, before presenting them to everyone.”

“I see. Then, what would you say of… Hamelia and Kamelia.”

“I love it!” said Hamelia.

“I don’t.” said Kam… said K.

“Why not… Aysh and Kay?” Suggested the Pale King.

“Absolutely not.” Answered dryly his wife.

“Hamelia and Kay?” H offered a compromise.

“You can keep Hamelia if you like it, but we need a real name for your sibling. What do you think of Kahon?”

“Fine, I can be Kahon if it ends this argument.”

“Perfect! Then, let’s move on to clothing!”

Hamelia chose a nice and simple light grey cloak, and Kahon chose the same, arguing that “they were all boring anyway, so they might as well fit with their twin”.

******

The morning had already begun when prince Achela woke up. Still half-asleep, they rang a bell, and a retainer came out of the “closet”. She helped them to clean their shell, dressed them up and guided them to the dining room of the royal apartments. They thanked her for her help before crossing the door.

Their entire family was already taking breakfast, including two siblings they didn’t know they had. In their eagerness to meet these new faces, they jumped…

And ended up with their head in a basket of fruits. The king was panicked, but the queen just laughed and lifted them out of there.

“Well, my child, I know they are intimidating, but I doubt hiding yourself among the berries will be efficient!”

“Can you please put me down, mother?”

She placed them in their chair delicately.

“So, who are you?” asked one of the newcomers.

“I’m prince Achela, the firstborn of the king and queen! And you?”

“I’m Hamelia and this is my twin, Kahon!” Seeing Achela’s confusion, they explained: “We were born from the same egg.”

Kahon’s attitude shifted entirely. They stood up and bowed low, closing their eyes.

“It is a pleasure to meet their princely highness.”

Said highness chuckled.

“Stop that, okay! I only said I was a prince because, according to father, it’s important for other to know!”

“Yes, but your family is already aware of that”, added the wyrm, somewhat annoyed. But Kahon didn’t stop his act.

“My apologies, your highness, please understand my emotion at your sight: you are the child of a queen and king, while my parents are but a modest tree and a tiny bug.”

The children all burst into laughter. The White Lady was amused. The Pale King not so much.

“Well, I’m glad to see you already love each other, but I have a few announcements to make now that everyone is here.

First: school. Beginning today, you will have lesson with tutors for five hours a day, except on weekends.”

To his surprise, Kahon seemed just as happy about that as Hamelia. Achela and Vertan, on the other hand, were not enthusiastic. He supposed that the one who had spent days in jail didn’t care as much for the downsides of school.

“No complaining! You are princes, your education must be flawless!”

“I can’t wait to learn how to wield a nail!” said Hamelia to their twins, who shared their excitement.

“That his out of the question, for now at least. You will begin with reading, writing, arithmetic, history and some rudiments of science. Don’t expect any fighting before your second molt.”

Now all his children were upset. Well, the next news might calm them. He wished he could be so sure about his wife’s reaction.

“Second, you will be getting a little half-sister soon!”

“Well, that’s wonderful! And who might be your heart’s second desire?” Asked gleefully the queen.

“Uh, it’s Herrah. I mean, no, I’m not in love with Herrah, it was just part of the deal for her to become a dreamer. But… My love… Are you not angry?”

“A little disappointed that your love for Herrah isn’t genuine, but beyond that, no.” She sighed. “Really, though, it’s like you’re made for each other. Both strong monarchs, who created their kingdom and strengthened the state in opposition to the nobles. You became mortal enemies because of politics before a common enemy forced you to unite your efforts, leading you to discover your true feelings for each other… It would make for a beautiful love story, don’t you think?”

“I… Hum… Maybe? You… You do know we are married, right?”

“Of course I do, but that’s no reason to limit ourselves! Besides, I’m a goddess of fertility, will all that entails. I will not explain these things because of the younger people around the table, but while we’re on that topic, I’ll have something to tell you about Dryya.”

“Of course, but how is Dryya connected to the topic of…”

The Pale King’s glow varied with his mental state. One amusing consequence of this was that you could literally see the metaphorical lumafly light up in his head when he understood something.”

“Oh. Ah… Well, I suppose I can’t say no, now, can I?”

Chapter Text

The royal family was finally falling into some form of routine. Each day, they woke up and took breakfast together, before the parents went to work and the children to school. A classroom had been arranged in the royal apartments, and with twice as many tutors as children, they were learning fast. Being the children of a literal god of knowledge probably helped.

They reunited for lunch; tough the king was often too busy to come. In the afternoon, after a few more hours of school, the children were free, and used that time to play or sometimes (especially Kahon) explore the palace. The wyrm came back “home” (even if the palace was only one building, it was so large it might as well be a town) in the evening. He played with his children, or read them stories, before dinner. Then, after they were put to sleep, the least enjoyable part of the day began: the council.

Because as happy as they were with their children, the Pale King and the White Lady could not forget their kingdom was at war with an immaterial enemy, who was growing stronger every day.

Aside from the monarchs of Hallownest, the council reunited the dreamers, the great knights, as well as representative of the other nations of Hallownest. It was examining the progression of the infection, organizing countermeasures, and prepared everything for the sealing. And thankfully, the sealing was close. It was the 22^nd of Greymonth. Tomorrow, the princess of Deepnest would hatch, and the next day, the infection would be sealed.

The great map of Hallownest in the meeting room was covered in orange pins, indicating infection clusters. The disease was progressing at a terrifying rate, blowing every projection out of the water, as if the Radiance knew the king was preparing something. Already, most transport ways had been cut, and the entire capital had been put under quarantine, and despite that, bugs were dying, or just disappearing, by the thousands. As soon as your eyes turned orange, you were as good as dead, reduced to a mindless, violent husk.

The entire region, four kingdoms with a combined population in the millions, had been brought to its knees. In two days, the king promised to himself, everything would be over. In two days, he’ll have all the time he needs to take care of his five offsprings. In two days, yes, but for now, the last check.

“Let’s go round the table and see if everyone is ready for the 24^th. I will seal the infection in the black egg temple, after summoning a pure vessel in it.”

The White Lady was next.

“I will remain in the palace, providing extra soul for the seal through the kingsoul, and to lead the country should an unfortunate development occur.”

Then, it was the dreamer’s turn, beginning with Lurien.

“I will seal the black egg with my mind, before being transported to the watcher’s spire, which has been turned into a veritable fortress. My successor will be my current assistant.”

Monomon.

“After sealing the egg, I will be brought to the archives, where a second seal placing my body outside the material world will be activated. The key of this seal will be given to my assistant, Quirrel, who will lead the archives in my absence.”

Herrah.

“I will be brought to a special chamber in the beast’s den. A regence council with Midwife at its head will take power until either I wake up or my heir is ready to take the throne.”

Now, the foreign delegations, minus Deepnest.

“We will return to our isolation once this crisis is over.” declare queen Vespa of the Hive.

“So will we.” Concluded the Wisest Mantis Lord.

Everything was ready, nothing would go wrong. Right?

*****

He was not ready for this. He had children before, yes, but they were born already mature. This time, he would need to take care of an actual baby. Not only that, but he would have to put up with the feeling of stealing their princess away from the peoples of Deepnest. And, surely, he would have to have to shield her from the contempt of Hallonestian bugs, who would see her as the daughter of a monster.

They wouldn’t be entirely wrong, he thought. Only on which parent was the monster. He hadn’t felt so bad about it since the days of the Blackwyrm, but trying to save a kingdom from an angry god reminded him of what he once was.

Destruction is so much easier than creation, and like all wyrms, he had a nasty habit of stealing what he could and destroying what he couldn’t. His kingdom loathed the Blackwyrm, but in how many was it the name of the Pale Wyrm that was synonymous with terror and hatred? He knew the answer too well: none. Of the seventeen kingdoms he tried to conquer, not a single one survived. Some, like Seaheart, withered under his thrall for centuries. Most where simply destroyed in the war. Even the one that managed to inflict him deadly injuries, Talltree, he managed to destroy before succumbing to his injuries.

When he acquired his divinity at the cost of his ancient form in Hallownest, he saw it as an opportunity to redeem himself, create rather than destroy, slow down or even stop the collapse of civilization, rather than speed it up. So far, he had been successful. The only other kingdom he knew for sure was still standing was Pharloom, and given its state, it would not hold long.

Hallownest would be the last kingdom, the last refuge of consciousness. It could not fall, or it would be the end of everything.

As he watched his daughter tear her egg apart, he made himself a promise. He would keep this kingdom standing, if only for his children to have a place to grow up in.

Midwife handed the child to Herrah, who showed her to the crowd.

“People of Deepnest, this is your new princess, Hornet! May she become a strong ruler, and consolidate my achievement, so we can show the world that our kingdom is a strong kingdom, that our people is a great people.

I know that many of you are worried that without me, the kingdom will fall apart. Fear not, for my authority is now immortalized in my progeny! And through the peace she brings us with Hallownest, Deepnest will go from an era of war and misery, to one of peace and prosperity.

I only ask of you that you remember the sacrifice I made for my kingdom, and t understand why I did it. I love you, my people. I love you, my daughter.”

The crowd was cheering loudly, but the pale king noticed that it was way smaller than anticipated. Deepnest had been somewhat spared by the infection until recently, but now, it was in full swing. Not only was it ravaging the population, but the local wildlife, already quite dangerous, became bloodthirsty monsters. People didn’t dare to leave their towns anymore, but Deepnest relied on hunting to fit its inhabitants. When the stocks ran out, they would have to choose between dying of starvation or dying of infection. The seal needed to work.

*****

Guards. Foreign delegations. Curious inhabitants of the crossroads. The dreamers. It was a strange procession that was walking to the temple of the black egg. As they entered the perimeter, the guards took their place, stopping the onlookers from approaching. Then, it was the delegations that left him, remaining outside the temple. Finally, the dreamers stopped before the door they would seal. He was alone to enter the black egg.

As he walked along the pitch-black corridor, he would have liked to marvel at its conception, at the thousands of seals lighting up around him, at this shell made to withstand eternity.

He could not. The only thing he thought about was the vessel. He felt… Bad for it. He knew that he was merely a complex object, but still… In the visions he had, it looked so lifelike. Would it truly feel nothing? That was the main reason he included a seal to put it in a deep coma, just in case. A waste of soul, maybe, but it brought peace to his mind.

He had reached the center of the egg. It was too late to turn back. It had been as soon as he gave up on the original vessel plan, he corrected himself. With a simple movement of his soul, he activated the true wonder of a spatial spell that would pull the pure vessel to this dimension.

He could feel the complex weaving activating around him, localizing the target he foresaw as viable, until, in a pillar of light, a being… An object materialized in the center of the room.

It was strange, like a an extremely thin bug missing two limbs, that had flesh put on their shell, then covered with a beige organic membrane. It had an impressive amount of hair on the head, which looked as thin as spider silk.

He committed the mistake of looking at them… At it in the eyes. As soon as he saw them, he knew they would haunt him forever. These eyes, so alien, with their structure of concentric circle and transparent lenses, were not hard to understand.

Fear and confusion.

Don’t think about it, it’s not real, merely an automatic reaction created by whatever chemistry rules this thing.

He managed to take a hold of himself and activated the chain that wrapped around its small shape. It was so small. Smaller than him, which was rare. Maybe he had failed something about the rescaling factor? It looked so frail, so tiny, as the metal shape ensnared it tighter and it lost consciousness (NOT consciousness, it didn’t have one.)

Next step, the infection. His own soul reservoir was getting empty, so he began to tap into is wife’s through the kingsoul.

Orange gas entered the vessel at an impressive speed. If he didn’t already know about how dire the situation was, this would surely convince it. After several minutes, it was finally all contained.

He activated the seal on the chains, preventing it from getting out, and exited the egg. The dreamers were already asleep. He hadn’t even said them a proper farewell. But there would be no need for a farewell, right? He would find a way to defeat the radiance for good, for his friends, and his daughter’s mother, and the perpetual safety of his kingdom. He promised himself this.

With one final movement of soul, he completed the seal. It was done. The kingdom was saved. He could spend time with his family, work on new machine, he…

The Pale King collapsed from exhaustion as he exited the temple but was caught by Hegemol before he hit the ground. He could see the attendants enter the temple, to take care of the dreamers. But the last thing he saw was a vision, two white globes with dark holes, two not-even-eyes, two optical sensors, looking at him in confusion.

He could only hope the cost he made that thing pay today would not prove too great in the future.

Chapter Text

Three years after the sealing, the kingdom was recovering. Of course, it wasn’t completely back to normal, and almost everyone had lost someone in the infection. But the situation was no longer critical, and the monarchs of Hallownest could finally relax.

Well, they could have relaxed, if not their five children. The entire family had left the palace for a few days, for a trip to the queen’s gardens. It was the first time the children left the palace, so let’s just say the king was thankful that his wife accepted to allow so many servants in her retreat.

Vertan, his son, usually calm and withdrawn, was absolutely ecstatic at the variety of plants he found himself in. Considering the princes of Hallownest were all half-plants, it was actually surprising that he was the only one interested in them. As such, he was very close to his mother, and she already offered him a significant chunk of the palace garden for his second molt.

Achela and Hamelia, the princesses of Hallownest, were as per usual competing for his attention. For some reason, each one was convinced the other was his favorite child.

He could somewhat understand it: Achela was the heir to the kingdom, she was the most popular among the nobility, and had quite a taste for luxury. She was the most royal-looking of all his children. Hamelia, on the other hand, was kind, hard-working, serious, obedient and polite to a fault. She was what people would describe as a perfect child.

Kahon, who didn’t have a gender because “they transcended such laughable constructs”, was busy exploring everywhere he could, which, to his disappointment, was quite limited. But they had only molted once, and while they managed, through devious schemes and they help of their twin, to negotiate for a nail for their second molt, they were still defenseless.

Granted, the kingdom was at peace with its neighbors, and there were no criminals that could possibly enter the garden, but the king would not take any risk. Besides, have you seen loodles before? He would not risk these things getting near his progeny. Hell, even mosscreeps could be dangerous for young children.

Finally, Hornet was three years old. And being “only” a demigod, well, she acted as such. She was an absolute delight, running around in her white cloak, watching each flower, weird looking-rock, or clever mechanism, like it held the secret of the universe. One of her favorite ways of passing time in the palace was annoying nobles, which was simple since her mere existence gave a stroke to nearly half of the court.

The wyrm was sitting on his wife’s lap, and she was in turn sitting on a large stone bench designed for her. This grove was the centerpiece of her gardens, where four exotic trees sat at the four cardinal directions, supporting the roof of the cave. The stone was black, and lumaflies flew freely in the canopy, giving the illusion of a starry night.

Such a sight was impossible, even on the surface, since before their birth, yet here it was. But if Hallownest was truly to last eternally, maybe they would see the real thing one day. The king often daydreamed about that, these days. Uniting the lands of Hallownest in an empire, building new kingdoms for his children once they ascended, planting the seeds of a new world in the ruins of the old one…

But first, he needed a permanent solution to defeat the Radiance. At that thought, his mood worsened significantly. In three years, no progress was made, and the dreamers were still sleeping.

And the pure vessel, said a voice in his mind, but he shut it down. Why would he care about it? Even if it had a mind, which it didn’t, it’s not like its life was worth living, trying to not starve in its unforgiving, godless homeland.

He felt a root slide on his shoulder.

“Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yes, just a bad thought. But it didn’t resist your presence long.”

He stood up on his toes and kissed her on the cheek.

It was at this instant that a gardener entered the grove, with great agitation. The pale king recognized him, it was Xero, a moth that had left his tribe to enter his service as a knight, only to be gravely injured by the infection years later. Still wanting to serve the royal family, he became a gardener for the queen, now using his nail to defeat weeds instead of enemies.

“Please excuse my intrusion, your majesties, but prince Kahon has escaped the vigilance of their guards and is heading to Greenpath.”

“What? Where?”

“To the north of here, we’re not sure where exactly. We are searching for them, and trying to intercept them at the entrance of Greenpath, but they are fast and agile and… Your majesty!”

The king wasn’t even thinking. He flew like a bullet past Xero, maneuvering through the tunnels and vines of the garden. He passed his knights and servants without even paying attention to them. He was moving so fast that he looked more like a long, glowing line flowing through the gardens. It was somewhat reminiscent of his old form, but he was too busy to think about that.

His mind was filled of visions of the corpse of his child, their mask broken, their shade leaving their tiny black body… No, this would not happen, he had prevented it. He promised to never let them get hurt, he already failed once, he would not fail again!

But his subconscious was telling him otherwise.

Oh, but you will, wyrm! you’ll fail again and again, until everything crumbles. The end is coming, and you can’t do anything to stop it. All your struggles are futile, you can’t save the world, can’t save your kingdom, can’t save your family, can’t save a single of your children. FACE IT, YOU CANNOT EVEN SAVE YOURSELF!

He stumbled, out of breath. He was coughing. He shivered, felling like something in his body was absorbing the heat. Did he push this form too far? He felt like that wouldn’t have hindered him just a century ago. Was he getting old? Impossible, he was immortal. What happened? Well, he was already feeling better, so no matter. Besides, the longer he waited before getting up, the longer Kahon would be left alone.

After a few more minutes of traveling at a more reasonable speed, he entered a region were the vegetation looked a lot wilder. The influence in the air was no longer his wife’s. He was in Greenpath.

After exiting the narrow entrance, he arrived on top of a cliff above a lake of bubbling acid. And at the edge of the cliff sat…

“Kahon!”

“Dad! Are you alright?”

“Yes, I… I should be the one asking you this.”

“Well, you look panicked, you’re dimmer than usual, and your robe is much greener and browner than palace etiquette allows, I think. So, I felt worried for my fath…”

He pulled them into a hug. They were about the same size at this point. He kept his embrace for more than a minute, before releasing them and telling them, his hands still on their shoulders:

“Come. We will talk as we walk back.”

“Can’t we talk here? It’s prettier!”

“You think so? I’ve always found Greenpath a little too chaotic for my taste.”

“Well, I find the palace too orderly for my taste. I guess we don’t have the same preferences.”

They still followed him, reluctantly.

“Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t promise you to ever only go where you want me to for all eternity. But…”

They got closer, took his hand and looked at him in the eyes.

“I can promise to not do that before I have a nail. I can promise to always be careful. I can promise to not wander too far off the beaten path while I’m still young, to tell you where I’ll be going, and to stay at home when you really need me to. Would that work?”

“Yes. Yes, it would.”

He hugged them again, crying. Was he sad, was he proud, both, neither? He couldn’t tell. But he could tell his child wasn’t entirely one, anymore.

Chapter Text

The Silver City was almost unnaturally clean that day. Not that it was usually dirty, of course, but with the coming ceremony, it needed to be immaculate. The metal had been repainted, the white pavement polished until one could see themselves in it, and the windows cleaned until they were invisible to even the keenest of compound eyes. Large white and light grey banners bearing Hallownest’s crest were hanging from the towers and flowers decorated the streets.

The city was once again ready to host the celebrations of the kingdom’s founding. The population could barely contain its excitement. The princes couldn’t. It would be, after all, the first time they left the royal domains. This made the task of actually preparing for the occasion rather difficult.

The servants had, however, gained a lot of experience with handling the royal progeny. They knew which levers to pull, which promises to make, which threats would not sound empty. As a result, the entire royal was reunited in time in their private living room. The Pale King inspected the situation.

For the ceremony, each bug wore a color reflecting their status. The commoners wore dark blue. Nobles wore red. Members of the “pale court”, his knights, advisors and really anyone he truly trusted, wore grey. Outsiders wore black. And of course, the royal family wore white.

The outfits were very simple, yet quite elegant. For him, a robe. For his root and his youngest daughter, a dress. For his other children, a cloak. Everything was made of fine weaver silk, without any embedding or ornaments. It made him nearly uncomfortable, to realize how similar the children he had with the queen looked. Were it not for their horns, they would be indistinguishable.

The point of these clothes was to make them look more divine, more separated from this world. Nobody would like the idea to be ruled by a common bug, after all. When that was indeed the case (like with Herrah), a strong personality cult was needed to make the authority seem legitimate. And even if he found some tendencies unpleasant, he found it very nice to be revered. He was, after all, a god.

“Alright, now, final reminder. No leaving us without permission.” They would never get it anyway. “No talking to people unless they start the conversation. And finally…”

He looked at Kahon in particular.

“No. Nail!”

For their second molt, a few weeks ago, they had received a shellwood nail. A “harmless” training weapon. It took them three days to figure out how to destroy a supposedly indestructible wingsmould with it. They and their twin were progressing at such a speed that retainers could not match them in spars, so they trained with guards now. At three years old.

Sometimes, the king worried he had sired two future gods of war.

“Also, no court intrigues. That is for the both of you.” He said looking at Achela and her mother.

His heir was better at handling nobles than him, he’ll give her that. He would appreciate it if she did not use this talent to try and doge his parental authority. just the day before, she got her hands on a forbidden book about the history of times before Hallownest. Granted, it was kind of instructive and he had a copy in his own library.

But it was also written by a king whose idea of economics was “beat up your neighbors until they throw geo at you”, and it showed. This was not how what he wanted the heir of Hallownest to learn, not to speak of the scandal this would cause if it was made public.

As for his wife, she suffered, as he called it, from the “matchmaker syndrome”. To put it bluntly, she would see two young nobles, think “they would be so cute as a couple”, and then ensure it happens. Granted, she was a fertility goddess, she knew what she was doing, and the bugs often ended up in love.

However, it resulted in many hazardous marriages, from a political standpoint, destabilizing dynasties and weakening the established order. He didn’t like arranged marriages either, but that was one of the things he was powerless about.

“So, have I been clear?”

“My dear wyrm, the poor kids will die of boredom if you forbid them to do anything all day.”

“I’m sorry, my root, but if they are to appear to the people, they must behave.”

Especially Hornet, he thought without saying it. Considering she was the princess of Deepnest, people would tend to dislike her for no reason, and it would get worse if she gave them one. He swore to the Highest Being that if someone made a remark about her dress being the wrong color, he’d have them locked up for treason.

With a deep sigh, he left the room with his family in tow. They got on the carriage without a word, clearly upset about the unresolved argument. He could not blame them, but they were the royal family. Their image was important, gods damn it!

The procession left the white palace with the great knights at the front, followed by the royal family. The ancient basin was mostly empty, aside from the palace grounds, though the children were watching the caves and fossils in amazement. To be fair, some of these ammonites really were impressive. A reminder of a more thriving biosphere.

After many, many ramps, a new difficulty arose: the elevator. The procession had to be split into smaller groups, and then reunited at the top. The city guards were probably overwhelmed by curious nobles beyond the door, given the noise. The children were growing nervous, and so was the king. Like with every of his public appearances, he was scared of messing up. He barely slept last night, with how stressed he was.

But the people of Hallownest deserved to see their king, and he always happy with seeing them, in the end. Yet he kept avoiding it like the plague. Sometimes he hated his worried nature.

Finally, the door opened, and the crowd cheered loudly, while the guards multiplied their efforts to keep the way open. He got on his podium to greet the crowd, while his children were climbing on whatever they could to wave at the crowd.

His wife laughed and elected to just lift him like a newborn to show to the crowd. While he would like to complain about it, he couldn’t do that in front of thousands of people. So, he just went along with it, using his advantageous viewpoint to assess the crowd. Given the part of the city they were in, it was mostly red, with a significant portion of servants in blue, and a few emissaries in black.

They hadn’t been that excited in a while, given that it was the official presentation of the princes to the people.

He noticed a small group of bugs in grey trying to make their way through the crowd. Soon enough, Avelo and his watcher knights were setting up his first stop in the middle of the road. The procession stopped before the watcher’s spire, and he got down, summoning a soul nail.

Then, in front of the roaring crowd, he renewed Avelo’s position as the fourth watcher of the city, in a ceremony close to knighting. After that, he invited him to the royal carriage, while the watcher knights joined his own knights.

The new watcher was visibly uncomfortable with his situation. Ever since his nomination, he feared to not be up to the task. He certainly was less capable than Lurien, but he was an exception. When the king created the title of watcher, it was nothing more than that: his source of information about the city. It was Lurien that made it into the position of quasi-prime minister and ruler of the city. Reversing that change, even temporarily, was hard, with how the position of “watcher” had become engraved in Hallownestian culture.

After that, it was a smooth ride to the grand plaza, at the heart of the city, where the celebration would take place. The plaza was gigantic, surrounded by the highest spires Hallownest, and probably the world. In the middle sat a statue, commemorating the union of the two pale beings that had created Hallownest: The White lady, providing the land, and the Pale King, providing the citizens.

Surrounding it in concentric circles were tables, for the feast that would be served in the coming hours. When the king awoke the minds of the beasts in this land, the first promise he made them was plentiful food. As was tradition, no one in the kingdom today, even strangers, beggars and criminals, would go hungry.

He sat on the wooden throne right on the central table, his root sitting next to him, mirroring the statue. His children were surrounding them, and he was happy to see they behaved so far. But looking at them closer, he realized they were… Afraid?

“My root, is there a problem with the children?”

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

Right. She was still a little upset. But if he asked them, it would break his godly persona. On the other hand, taking care of his family would make him appear more sympathetic. But he didn’t want sympathy, he wanted reverence! But he promised himself he would not hurt his family for political gain. But it was a single day, and the political fallout could be huge! After all, his family would profit from a stable kingdom, so wouldn’t ignoring them today be a net positive for them?

“Your majesty? Pale wyrm? Did you hear me?”

Right, the children. It still felt wrong to act like this in front of people. It made him uncomfortable. And that was stressing him, making him look even worse, stressing him even more. By the root’s light, he needed to get it over with a soon as possible!

“Children? Is everything alright?”

He almost stuttered there. Not in front of people notinfrontofpeoplenotinfrontofpeople…

“No, too much noise”, started Hamelia.

“Too many people”, complained Kahon.

“I’m scared!”, admitted Vertan.

“People look angry at me!” Hornet finished.

He then realized that she was three years old and was probably overwhelmed and/or bored to death. He then remembered that that was the case for all his children. He started to feel really bad.

“I’ll figure something out!”

No, you won’t, said a voice in his mind. If a problem cannot be solved by engineering, you never have a good solution. He wanted to tell it to shut up, but then thought about it.

Engineering… He never designed toys for his children. Or any children, really. That was it! He just needed to go to his workshop and… He couldn’t. Well, any other idea?

“Your Holliness?”

He turned. Only one group of people called him that, and he really wanted to avoid them if he could. Unfortunately, it was them. Priests.

“I’m afraid I have no time for the ecclesiastic affairs, my loyal follower.”

“Please, you have ignored all our previous requests. We simply wish to know what role your children play in the pantheon!”

“What role? None! They aren’t gods yet. Now, please leave us.”

His first interlocutor seemed to follow his wish but was replaced by another. The king needed every inch of focus he had to not become impolite. He knew her, she was the most vicious priestess he ever had, only using religion as a mean to increase her power and obsessed with her carrier.

“I implore you, my lord, think of the benefits you could get from a pantheon covering more domains! You could appeal to a much larger part of the population! Thanks to your youngest, you could even appeal to thieves and criminals.”

His hemolymph froze.

“What. Did. You. SAY!”

“The ‘queen’ of Deepnest is famously a thief, so it would only make sense that the child she extorted you…”

He did not even hear what she said through his blinding rage. Blinding for everyone else, that is. His light was so intense that it was casting clear shadows of the spires on the ceiling of the cave. He had to restrain himself to not reduce that little, insignificant, PATHETIC MORTAL THAT DARED TO INSULT HIS DAUGHTER AND HER MOTHER to ashes!

The priestess fell to the ground, sobbing, as he was calming down. She tried to get up, but her legs refused to obey. He declared telepathically to the audience:

“She who dares insult the savior of a land does not deserve to walk it ever again. Respect the dreamers, because no matter what you think of them, without them, you wouldn’t be here.”

Okay. So, he was upset, and people were probably nervous from having witnessed divine punishment. Great. This was probably the worst celebration since 92. He winced at this thought. It would never get as bad as 92.

Now what? He couldn’t just get back to his seat and act like that never happened.

He turned to the table and glanced at his children. Maybe a story? No, it was not the time to think about how to distract them. He needed something to calm the people, maybe a speech or… A story.

There was one that would fit the circumstances. He had never told it to his children, though they probably heard it in history class. It was a true story, and he was its protagonist.

“Today, we celebrate the 387th anniversary of Hallownest. Few remember the founding of our kingdom, though you probably heard this tale already. To remind everyone of what we are protecting, and how precious it is, allow me to tell you my memories of the event.

I was a young wyrm when I arrived in Hallownest. Yet I was already dying. What could kill such a mighty being in its prime? Hunger. Exhaustion. A thousand wounds, from yet another failed conquest. It is in wyrm’s nature to rule over kingdoms. Without a kingdom, they die. I had no kingdom. There were no kingdoms anymore, only the wastes, the endless desert.

Wet or dry, hot or cold, a lifeless expense was all that remained of the once verdant world. The sky, that had been clear, was covered by clouds of ash and dust accumulated over tens of thousands of years of conflicts. Plant life was scarce outside the influence of gods. And there were less and less gods. The old kingdoms, that once covered the entire world, were reduced to a handful of dying flakes of civilization.

And then, there was Hallownest. A thriving, yet mostly empty kingdom. It was so isolated, on the far north extremity of the continent, that foreign gods had left it alone. It reemerged from a long-gone civilization, after the fall of the world. All the people populating it had emerged on this land.

There was Unn in Greenpath, who created the mosskins. Spiders had taken residence in Deepnest, and a mantis tribe in the fungal waste. A group of moths had favored Hallownest’s crown, and what became known as the resting grounds.

But most of Hallownest was populated only by primitive beasts, to the dismay of the local goddess, the White Lady. She was the last remaining tree of a forest that once covered this region of the world. As the main source of food, and an omnipresent being, the beasts of the kingdom ‘thought’ of her often.

Over the centuries, through this ‘worship’, she gained power, ultimately ascending to godhood as a pale being. She was brought into the world alone and confused, with no real ‘followers’, so to speak. Unn agreed to give her a portion of her territory, hoping some mosskins would choose the new goddess. But unfortunately, it wasn’t the case. And that is when I arrived.

I reached the edge of the kingdom, desperately trying to enter it but driven away by the rightful ruler of these lands. After weeks of pointless struggle, I finally died. But to a higher being, death is not as definitive as for mortals. I began my own apotheosis, eventually being reborn as this form. But the conflict between the two pale beings did not end there. I entered Hallownest thanks to my smaller size, only for her to run after me.

But as time passed, this endless pursuit became something else. A game, or maybe just a way to pass time. Eventually, we fell in love. And, pushed by that love, we created an extraordinary plan. We would make Hallownest into a true kingdom, that could endure the passage of time. She would provide the land, and me, by gifting minds to the beasts, the population. Hallownest was born of our union the day of our wedding.

It is why this kingdom must survive, for it might be the last. If it were to fall, it could mean the end of civilization, of the world. No more love, no more art, no more science, or even life, it would all crumble, until the world is nothing but dust.

But we, the monarchs, are so attached to this kingdom because it is the first product of our marriage. In a way, it is our first-born child, and you are all our family. Do you understand, then, the length I am willing to go to protect it?”

Chapter Text

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Well, nobody forced you to come with us.”

“Quiet! We’re supposed to be incognito!”

“Well, people speak together usually. That’s not suspicious. What is, however, is saying things like ‘we’re supposed to be incognito!’”

Four small bugs were walking side by side in the streets of the capital. Their heads still had the round shapes of their youth, but their horns had already grown, and were straighter, more upright. Their usual cloaks had been replaced with ones of a lesser fabric and dull grey, but less noticeable than their palace attire. They were also making significant efforts to conceal their usual glow.

After founding day, the princes of Hallownest wanted to see the city in normal circumstances. Hornet was deemed not mature enough to go on the trip, but the others managed to negotiate a day out. The king was growing very protective of his children, much to their dismay (especially Kahon).

Even now, they could easily notice the royal guards following them from afar. But they were not going to complain. So far, they had not been stopped in their little trip. They entered the city from the king’s station, like normal tourists would. They walked down the great avenue of the high district, stopped on every bridge to look at the water in the canals, and may have spent quite some time in a candy shop (they hoped the guards would not do a report to the queen).

Right now, they were entering the city center. The spires here were nearly reaching the top of the cavern, and it was where the ceiling was at the highest! There were many platforms in the air to accommodate flying bugs. Achela sighed:

“I wish we could fly. The view from up there must be so beautiful.”

“No need to fly! Watch and learn.”

Kahon began running before jumping to an impressive height and managed to grab the edge of the platform. Unfortunately, their efforts to bring themselves up failed, and they ended up falling.

“Oh, my f… King! Are you alright!” Hamelia rushed to her sibling.

“Very instructive, yes.” commented Achela.

“I’m not giving up so easily!”

They deployed the wings they had grown in their last molt.

“They are too small for flight yet! Remember what the teachers told us.”

“I don’t need to fly. Just a little boost!”

They jumped again, but this time, as they reached their apogee, they gave one strong flap, given them the height they needed to land perfectly on the platform.

“See? It wasn’t that hard! come with me!”

Their siblings had more difficulty to master the “double jump”, as they had not spent most of their existence trying to explore the palace without being spotted. But after a few tries, all four were on the platform.

“Okay, where’s the next one?”

“Over there! But we can’t reach it.”

“Why? It’s not that much higher.”

“Yes, but it’s pretty far. Even using our wings, we can’t jump so long horizontally.”

“That’s what you think!”

Kahon ran with all their speed, jumped, and flapped their wings. But instead of flapping them downwards to push up, they flapped them towards their back. This projected them forwards almost instantly, but still quite far from the platform. They fell down and landed gracefully right next to an old butterfly.

“Sorry, madam.” Then, turning to their siblings: “Come down, we need to train!”

Training the dash was significantly longer, but each time, they managed to go further and do it more reliably, until they felt confident they were reaching their limit.

After that came the ascension of the platforms, which took quite some time considering the number of failures, that resulted in starting back from the bottom. When all four finally reached the summit, it was already quite late.

“The view is amazing, but that was not worth it.” Achela said. Yet, she was smiling.

“We shouldn’t wait too long before going back home.” Hamelia looked full of energy during the entire climb, but she was clearly tired.

 “You’re right, we shouldn’t linger here, and I still have a purchase to make.” With that, Kahon jumped off the platform, falling from a ridiculous height, only to slow down with a flap of wings right before landing.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

*****

“Honestly, your majesty, I’m honored of the interest you have in my research, but I don’t know.”

“But surely you have an idea, an opinion? You’re the greatest expert on artificial calculators Hallownest has ever seen, even if you don’t have certitudes, I just ask you if you think it’s possible.”

Archivist Theorus was probably starting to regret accepting his invitation. The old beetle was clearly versed in practice more than theory, and certainly not these hypotheticals that were light years beyond current technology.

“I… Listen, your majesty. I would say maybe it’s possible. I’m no philosopher or theologian, in fact you should probably discuss that with your clergy. What I can say is that a sufficiently powerful calculator could act as if it had a consciousness. As for whether it would really be self-aware? I have no idea. And with all due respect, if the god of mind doesn’t know either, then it’s likely no one does.”

He gave a quick glance at the clock. What were they doing?

“Well, thank you for your time. As for the funding of the third model, I’ll give orders to the royal treasury. Fifty thousand, you said?”

“Yes, your grace. As a first estimation, anyway.”

He winced. That was costly for a meeting which didn’t confirm his suspicions. Well, maybe the calculator itself would prove useful. Most likely though, he would get complaints from nobles for spoiling his scholars too much. Well too bad for them, he was the king, and if he wanted to make his kingdom the most advanced the world had ever seen, he would do it!

Someone knocked on the door of the office. Finaly!

“Well, Theorus, I believe that’ll be all for today. We’ll probably see each other at the annual inspection of the Archives, I hope your research go well until then.”

He got up and opened the door for his guest, only to find that his children were not in the corridor as he expected. As he was getting back in his seat, wondering who could have knocked if not them, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He screamed in surprise, turning to meet a smiling Kahon, surrounded by their siblings. They probably used the servants’ entrance, outside his field of view, to surprise him. His scream turned to laughter, then to coughing. The expression of his children darkened immediately.

“Father!”

“It’s nothing, I’m alright. See, I’m already better.”

They did not look reassured.

“How often have you gotten sick in your life?”

“In this form, it’s a first, but…”

“Oh no. Is it the infection?”

Was it? He had not dreamed of the Radiance, and she was safely sealed in a pure vessel. But on the other hand, he was immune to the diseases of mortals. Then what could it be?

The sensation had disappeared already, he was feeling perfectly well. It had been painful on a few specific points, and cold all around his throat. Oh, wyrms of old, it better not be what he was thinking. His children were discussing among themselves now.

“What else could it be?”

“But he sealed it using three people, even Hornet’s mom! Surely that was not for nothing.”

“Now, now. Don’t worry, my children, it is not the infection that is threatening me. As for the Dreamers, they will be freed as soon as I find a permanent solution.”

“Really? And when will that be ready? You’ve made no progress in the last three years!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Kahon. I know exactly what lead to follow.”

After all, if the void was consuming one God of light, could it not do that to another? Quite a grim thought, but he could work on curing void poisoning once he successfully weaponized it.

Chapter Text

 The Crystal Peak was the highest summit in Hallownest. It was where the kingdom extracted most of its energy, in the form of pink crystals. It was riddled with mines and tunnels. These facts were the most important in the day-to-day life of most miners.

For one of them, however, the most important fact was that Crystal Peak was a damn labyrinth and he had been lost for three hours and probably got even more lost the more he walked!

His situation was hopeless. He was not in the mines anymore, but the natural cave system. The crystals here were untouched, reaching impressive sizes and still perfect geometric shapes. It was a magnificent sight, one which people would travel to see, if they knew it was there. But they didn’t. Because nobody came here. And nobody would find and help him.

He sat down on the floor, sobbing.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

Before him stood a bug like he had never seen before. They were taller than him, with a slender figure and a pure white shell. Their head was roundish, but with two very tall horns split at the top. Though wearing a simple blue cloak, there was something almost regal in their posture and appearance. Yet he didn’t appear haughty, no, the only thing he could see on their face was genuine concern

“Are you lost?”

 “_Ye… Yes. I’ve been for hours now, and I fear I will never see the mines again.” He said, nearly choking with the words.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re closer to the mines than you think.”

The mysterious bug took a parchment map out of their cloak and showed it to him. It was a real work of art, but not in the sense that it had been made by talented artists for a rich client. Instead, it was made with plain ink, sometimes just a sketch made with a pencil. There were doodles of recognizable landmarks, and hand-painted pins were clipped here and there. The whole thing was clearly a labor of love, made by one person out of passion.

“See, you just have to follow this tunnel, and climb here… Hum, that might be a little difficult for you. So, turn on the left here instead, and you should arrive at a transport hub.”

He shot a glance at the direction given and felt a gust of wind. When he turned to thank his savior, they had disappeared.

Did he just see a ghost?

*****

 Later, on the market of the lower crossroads, he talked about his misadventure and the strange encounter to a few of his friends.

“So, you think it might be a ghost?”

“Well, I don’t know, they appeared without a noise and disappeared suddenly. What else could they be?”

“A hallucination. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten this king-damned plague! You should get checked up as soon as possible.”

A mosskin traveling merchant intervened.

“If I may, I heard a somewhat similar tale from a friend and colleague of mine.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. She, like most moths, had made wow of non-violence. When she was attacked by bandits on her way to the hive, she was saved by a mysterious warrior who descended from the ceiling, dispatched the aggressors without touching the ground once, helped her to collect her belongings and disappeared without a word. Her description of them is close to yours, but she also said they were faintly glowing.”

“The cave where I met them was well lit from all the crystals. I could have missed that.”

“The rumor wants that they are a fallen knight from the first years of Hallownest, who died into exile after turning against the king, and is now trying to make up for their actions.”

“Interesting story, pal. Too bad I don’t believe one word of it.”

“But what I saw…”

“I don’t doubt you. You were in shock and scared, you met a bug who left quickly because they were shy or busy or whatever, and it made a strong impression on you. Who I doubt is this worm here, trying to convince us of his fantastic tales, probably to sell us his wares.”

Then, turning to the merchant:

“Now get lost!”

But one sceptic cannot stop a rising urban legend…

******

The Pale King was angry. This was surprisingly frequent coming from a god, especially considering how small his body was. Sometimes, when dealing with a particularly annoying situation, it felt like his physical form was too small to contain his rage, and he was going to explode.

But this anger was always directed at his enemies, himself for his own mistakes, or simply the cold and indifferent universe. For him to be angry at one of his children was a first. But as he was walking to the training grounds, trying to process what he learned, he realized that he truly was angry at Kahon.

Why were they acting like that?

When he crossed the shellwood doors of the guards’ wing, he didn’t have to search for his children for long. The cheers of a small crowd brought him to a large arena, where the twins were fighting against the five Great Knights. The fight was a little unbalanced, but the Knights were still all standing after nearly ten minutes.

He had no doubt that after their next molt, however, the pair would be nearly unstoppable.

They launched a push toward the center of the arena, trying to break the knights’ formation.

But their opponents were not about to play according to their plans. Hegemol and Zemer retreated, while the more mobile knights deployed in the newly freed space, encircling the princes.

They were now pushed back-to-back, in a dangerous position. They both raised their nails, preparing to parry. The king could swear he saw Hamelia smiling for a fraction of a second, before she unleashed a terrifying succession of attacks, that pushed Zemer back several feet.

But her flank was now exposed, and Ogrim literally jumped on the occasion.

As he was in the air, however, Kahon dashed in with their nail in a “spearing” position. Ordinarily, he would have been able to counter it, but his endurance was wavering, and he was sent outside of the arena.

Before anyone could get over the surprise, Kahon pushed their offensive, putting Isma out of commission in a single hit.

Despite their heroic effort, the three remaining Great Knights were methodically defeated, the princes making sure to fight in 2 vs 1 if possible.

The crowd cheered at their victory, and they bowed to acknowledge their audience. The two godlings seemed barely tired after their impressive demonstration of strength.

And they don’t know any spells yet, thought the king, as he applauded his children. He kept clapping as the audience calmed down, until finally they noticed him.

“Very impressive. If I didn’t know neither of you have interest in ruling, I would be worrying for my life.”

“Please, father. You know we are far from the power of defeating a god.”

“It depends on what you consider a god. But really, my combat prowess is not my main strength, unlike you two. I’m sure after your ascension you’ll far surpass me. But for now, I want to talk to you in private.”

“Is there a problem?”

“There might be.”

They both followed him to his office without a word. They could feel the tension in the air. The king, on the other hand, was getting a little calmer, as he was processing what he learned.

When they finally reached a closed space, however, he lost his calm pretty quickly.

“Now, Kahon, can I ask what you think you’re doing?”

“What? I… Father, what are you talking about?”, they asked in genuine confusion.

“Your ‘exploration’. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“What about it? I always told you where I was going, that was the deal.”

“Yes. You did. However, I would say your use of the verb ‘explore’ was quite the euphemism. For example, that time where you ‘explored’ the fungal wastes for two days. What you really did was challenge the mantis lords in battle, defeat them, and claim some mantis claws as the prize.”

“But that was years ago!”

“Even worse! You were younger, barely a teenager! And you put your life on the line without telling anyone! For what? More recently, you’ve ‘explored’ the kingdom’s edge ten times in a row. That’s what raised my suspicion. So, I decided to send some spies to follow you.”

“What? How dare you? That’s…”

Hamelia cringed internally as the anger was rising on both sides. This will not end well.

“The secret services can break the law if the kingdom is in peril. I would say a prince getting killed in an underground fight pit would be a major blow to the country. Just like if it was revealed that they possessed an illegal artefact.”

“What illegal artefact?”

“According to my informers, you are in possession of a modified crystal heart, that allows the user to fly great distances horizontaly. In fact, you even use it quite often.”

“Last time I checked, having a crystal heart isn’t illegal.”

“Technically correct, but the only ways of acquiring one are.”

“Not building one from scratch.”

“You know how to make crystal hearts?”

“No, but I had help from a friend of mine.”

“Hum. And that friend, do they even know who you are?”

“I told them my real name.”

“And the fact that you’re the child of the king and queen?”

“It… never came up.”

“And doesn’t that sound like important information?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. It’s so important, in fact, that once it’s revealed, any genuine contact becomes impossible. People are too intimidated, or only see you as a way of gaining favors. I don’t want that! I never asked to be a prince, never asked to be a godling! All that I want is to travel the world, meet interesting people, and overcome interesting challenges! And instead, I…”

They were almost crying.

“You’ll explain that to your mother and siblings. And don’t expect to leave the palace alone again before adulthood.”

Hamelia finally spoke up.

“Father, that’s not reasonable! Traveling means so much to them. You can’t just ban them from doing it for years, not to mention it will cut them from most of their friends.”

“Hamelia, did you know?”

“No, I’m as shocked as you.”

“Don’t bother lying. I can see it in your eyes. Does your siblings know as well?”

“Yes.”

“And none of you told me anything? I’m working almost constantly to keep the kingdom together, and…”

Kahon stood up.

“The kingdom? Ah! You don’t even know the kingdom.”

They left the office, slamming the door.

“KAHON HALLOWNEST, FOURTH PRINCE OF THE PALE CROWN! WE ARE NOT DONE!”

But they didn’t come back. The king’s head fell into his arms.

“Why? Where did I go wrong as a father?"

Hamelia had plenty of suggestions. She didn’t dare to make one.

*****

Later that day, the king apologized to his child, saying that he only talked in the heat of the moment, and he only wanted to keep them safe. They accepted the excuse, but their relationship was never quite the same. They kept avoiding each other, and Kahon spent more and more time outside the palace.

This tense climate spread to the rest of the royal family. Hamelia immersed herself in her training, quickly followed by Hornet. Achela seemed determined to become his heir, and was following his every step, which meant avoiding her siblings. Vertan was growing more recluse, and isolated himself in his gardens, avoiding not only his father, but any members of his family.

Only the white lady was trying to keep her family together, but it was clear to the royal entourage that the situation was one crisis away from falling apart.

Chapter Text

The political situation of Hallownest had not been that bad in decades. Of course, the king’s authority was not in question, that never happened. But the royal family was in shambles, and their reputation as well. While many commoners were only vaguely that the monarchs even had children, for the nobles, it was clear that now was the time for plotting and scheming, sacrificing the greater good for their own ambitions.

This situation weakened the army, worsened the economy, divided houses, and multiplied trials as the king tried to contain the situation. But condemning actions was a local solution to a systematic issue, the only way to stabilize the country was to improve his image of power, something he was notoriously bad at.

He did know how to prove his authority: show he still had it on Kahon. But he would not risk even more permanent strain on his relationship with his child for a problem that would be completely forgotten in a couple of generations.

Still, the impression he had was that a disease was spreading in his kingdom, one far more insidious than the infection: distrust. And he was the source of it. His family was breaking apart, thus sending the political landscape into chaos, causing decline in every sector. After avoiding the bang of the infection, his civilization was dying with a whimper under the weight of his mistakes.

Of course, he knew it was the end, merely a bad period. Society would not collapse from a few abuses of power; it was much stronger than that. But the bad times had lasted for years at this point, and he was knee-deep in it. All his children had reached the age of majority at this point, except Hornet.

Well, she was over nine years old, but he had decreed that godlings needed to reach the age of twelve to be considered adults, considering their slower development.

So, he was finding it hard to keep hope, especially with his developing case of void poisoning that was blinding his foresight more and more. It was not that he could not conjure visions anymore, quite the contrary. Anytime he tried to use his gift, he was drowned under innumerable vivid and lengthy visions, more than what his mind could process. So, he was blinded, as effectively as if he was staring at the sun.

The worst part was that he still had the impression that his power was usable, and he occasionally tried it, only to be reminded why that was a bad idea.

It was after one of these attempts that Achela entered his workshop with some quite worrying news.

“Father, the trams to Deepnest are under attack!”

He was only half awake after his visions.

“What?”

“Reports indicate that both lines have been cut near the entrance of the spider kingdom, by a significant armed force. The stag tunnels have also been collapsed, presumably by the same group.”

“Bring me the great knights and my generals, we need to plan a response immediately. Ho, also tell your sisters and sibling, they might want to help out.”

“That would be the worst thing to do! Erm, I mean, in my humble opinion, father.”

“Please, we are in private. But what makes you say that?”

“Who do you think is behind the attacks?”

“Bandits? I don’t know, destroying infrastructure isn’t beneficial to anyone.”

“Any bandits living in Deepnest have long since joined Herrah or ended up on her plate.”

“Then who?”

“Only the old nobility of Deepnest has enough power for such an operation. They were never happy with the rule of Herrah, and even less with the regency council. Now, they decided to act to overthrow the government. They destroyed the communication line to cut any easy way for them to escape. If we intervene militarily, they’ll use it as proof that the current regime is a puppet of Hallownest, which is already a common sentiment across the population. This is a coup, and we can’t intervene.”

Achela’s father appeared shocked. She repressed a sigh. He was so disconnected from the reality of politics in other countries, it was painful to see him handle foreign relations. Well, at least he was listening to her.

“What can we do, then?”

“Us? Nothing! We’re foreigners! We can’t meddle in Deepnest politics, or we’ll destroy all popular support for the Regency.”

“So, we just wait and see if which side wins the civil war?”

“Well, there is one person among us who would not be considered a foreigner.”

“I am NOT sending my daughter alone in an active warzone!”

“Alright, then we just watch. I’ll leave you to your engineering.”

A few minutes later, a very angry half-spider broke into the king’s workshop.

“Explain yourself, father!”

“What are you talking about!”

Achela was standing in the doorframe, leaning against the wall. It was well time for someone to dare showing the Pale King his mistakes. Lurien used to be the king’s best advisor because of that, but the new watcher was just a yes-man like the rest of them.

What was the point of having advisors if all they did was say that your ideas are good? Her studies and experiences had convinced Achela that counter powers and political structures were the best way to rule a kingdom. Because of their relationship, the king’s family had power over him, and by extension, the kingdom. It was time to put it to good use.

“I thought she would like to know what was going on in her realm.”

“You… Traitor!”

“A traitor! For what? Keeping my sister informed? Besides, everyone will be talking about it soon, and would you rather have her find it out through me or some random retainer gossip? Is one child in open rebellion not enough for you?”

“Kahon is not in ‘open rebellion’, they’re simply taking a little distance. And Hornet… Wait, Hornet?”

He turned around, to see his daughter picking components and compounds from his shelves. He noticed she wore her red deepnestian robe, instead of the white dress she preferred in the palace.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She was stuffing some kind of jelly in a small crimson sphere.

“Arming myself.”

“Wait. Is this aeromortus detonating gel? Don’t think I’ll let you use that! Do you even know what it does.”

“Of course, you paid for some pretty good tutors, and I was always a good student. I was always fascinated by mechanisms and contraptions, you know? Of course you know.”

She kept talking as she was starting to assemble several pieces together.

“After all, I told you multiple times when I was younger. You just told me that it was very well, but that wasn’t a job for a princess, and I should focus on my blade first. So, I learned it in Deepnest, and since all my fighting gizmos are there, well, I’m making some here.”

“Wait? You want to bring these to the frontlines?”

“Would you rather send me without them?”

“I will not send you at all!”

“Not happening.” It was the voice of Hamelia.

The king turned around, to see the twins and the five great knights.

“Hi dad. Long time no see.” Kahon had not set foot in the palace for a good month.

“What does this mean?”

“This means, my liege, that the princess is going to Deepnest whether you want it or not.”

“Oh please, Hegemol, don’t tell me you’re on their side.”

“I believe that I am on the side of reason.”

“The side of reason? Sending a ch… teenager to war?”

“She’s the daughter of a wyrm and Herrah the beast! Do you really think anything in Deepnest could hurt her?”

Achela continued.

“So, here’s what’s going to happen: we will escort Hornet to the entrance of Deepnest in the queen’s gardens, which should be less defended. There, she’ll go into the kingdom, meet with the council, reassure the population, important things for moral and coordination, but not fighting. Once the crisis is solved and she returns, we will have a little family reunion to sort out some things. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

“Can I say no?”

“You can, but it will not change a thing.”

“Still no.”

“To bad. Let’s go, Deepnest is far, and time is of the essence.”

Chapter Text

A monumental crowd was reunited in the ancient basin’s tram station. Two rows of city guards kept a passage open through the mass of people. It looked like a viscous fluid, overflowing through every entrance, as more and more curious denizens descended from the city, to get news on the end of the conflict.

They had become a rare occurrence since the plague, after all, and for some, this war was the first they lived through. Granted, Deepnest was far, and the war had not much impact on the city’s day to day life. But a war is a war, and that’s always concerning or exciting depending on the person.

The Pale King knew exactly in which category he belonged. Ever this his first death, he had come to abhor violence. But wyrms were wyrms and bugs were bugs, and a piece of their mind would always crave the feeling of physically defeating a foe. It was the deepest of animalistic urges he tried to rid his people of, but like all others, it just become disguised under a more civilized approach.

In beings capable of thought, the urge to feed became cooking, the urge to reproduce, love, and the urge to fight, war. He was powerless about it.

And thinking about it, he couldn’t really complain. He knew his daughter was alive and would arrive any minute now. She also should have avoided battle. Compared to the many who had lost someone dear, he was lucky.

Except he didn’t have more information than that! Hornet could be gravely injured, or crippled for life, for all he knew! Worse, she might have needed to take the throne of Deepnest to restore stability and would announce him her imminent crowning!

She would spend nearly all her time in Deepnest, maybe marry a noble from there to consolidate her power, and then he’ll never see his little girl again, and would never be able to fix their relationship.

The tram finally entered, at a speed well above the regulation in vigor, and grinded to a halt in a firework of sparks. The Pale King cringed: Deepnestians could run their lines like they wanted, but the crowning jewel of public transport deserved a little more respect. This thought was soon eclipsed by the little red silhouette getting off the cabin, however.

She was alright! He made an effort to control himself in front of these thousands of people and waited for her impassibly.

Her demarch was confident, sensibly more so than before. These two months had helped her to raise her self-esteem. He always knew his youngest daughter struggled with that, but he only realized recently where they were coming from. It was so obvious in hindsight that she suffered from the comparison with her fully divine siblings.

Her scale of expectations was so biased that no bug could hope to even classify as a decent fighter on it. But wining a war, even if not as a fighter, seemed to have set things straight.

“Father, the situation in Deepnest is stabilized. The council’s authority has been restored, and reconstruction is already starting. The leaders of the insurrection have been executed, and their followers pledged loyalty to the throne and to me, personally.”

“Excellent.”

He turned around and she followed him, both walking full of dignity, without a look the people massed around them.

But the instant they were hidden in the carriage bringing them to the palace, he hugged her.

“Are you alright?”

She seemed taken aback.

“Yes? Why are you…?”

He let her go.

“What happened?”

“In short, some nobles attempted a coup, hopping the others and the populace would follow. They didn’t, and we crushed the rebels easily. I’ll go into more details once we’re with the others, to not repeat myself.”

“Of course. Just… You’re not planning on getting crowned, are you?”

“No, why would I? My mother is still alive, so she’s still the queen. And she should wake up in the coming decade or so, since you’ve got a lead on how to kill the Radiance.”

“Ah, yes… Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about that, to not get your hopes up. I have a general principle, but I have no idea how to implement it technically. The technologies needed may not even exist yet. Really, it could take a month or a century.”

“Well, the important part is that she’ll wake up someday, so I’ll remain just a princess.”

*****

The council room was usually where the Pale King reunited his most trusted advisors. Which nowadays were composed of his family, and…

Well, that was about it. Monomon and Lurien were dreaming, the five great knights were good friends but terrible at running a kingdom, and the other few bugs he trusted were either dead, retired or publicly disgraced.

(Personally, he would have kept Maya by his side, even if she had made some poor decisions and ruined herself. But he really needed the approval of the nobility at the time, so he sent her away with a comfortable annuity.)

Either way, it was the first time he held council since the infection, (he could handle everything except the worst crises by himself), so he had never realized how isolated he had become. Finding some new advisors would be a priority.

For now, though, what mattered was Hornet. She had won her war and returned home safely. And now, she would do her official report to the council. Really, she would just explain what happened to her family, but things always sounded grander with an official name.

“I declare the forty-first session of the royal council open. Hornet Deepnest, council member, is invited to speak.”

The king had designed the protocol surrounding the council to be as egalitarian as possible. It was held around a circular table, and all participants, even himself, were referred to as “council members” or “council guests”. The idea was to encourage people to confront the king if needed. It worked decently.

Hornet stood up, and declared, in a calm yet expressive tone:

“57 days ago, all communications and transportation with the kingdom of Deepnest were cut by attacks from an unknown force. Considering my position, I was sent to solve this crisis.

After entering the kingdom from the Queen’s gardens, I was quickly spotted by a patrol of hunters, which I defeated with a few well thrown bombs. Interrogating a survivor confirmed my suspicions: they were working for a rebellious peace maker, who, along with some other nobles, planed on overthrowing the current regency council to take its place.

I reached the Hidden Village in about a week, since I took a few detour to ensure the loyalty of a few towns on the way. Once I discussed the situation with the council, it became clear that the rebels had given their all in cutting the kingdom off from Hallownest and were now in a very disadvantageous position. So, me and four generals each took an army of devouts to systematically slaughter the rebels.

Their groups of hunters and guards were no match for proper warriors, and I encountered no difficulty. The most notable battle, the only, really, was the siege of Hotwaters. Peace maker Saliv was encircling the industrial heart of Deepnest, hoping to turn it into his headquarters. He had most of the rebel troops with him, and was a decent leader, so a battle would have led to heavy casualties on my side.

To prevent this, I simply killed him and his personal guards by infiltrating their camp. His army surrendered, and I offered his meat as food to the starving populace. It took us five more weeks to clear out the last pockets of resistance, but the coup had failed before it even started.

The rebel leaders had hoped that the nobility was still angry enough at Herrah to betray the crown. They also thought that the common people were unhappy with the Hallonestian influence in local affairs. In realty, most Deepnestians knew very well why they were enjoying such an era of prosperity, and were fiercely loyal to the government.

But the rebels formed a mostly closed group, which ended up convincing them that most Deepnestian shared their opinion. It was a fatal mistake. The situation in Deepnest is now under the control of regency. It is now more legitimate than ever, having won a war, and with its most vocal opponents in jail or dead, the country is as stable as it was before the queen became incapacitated. Most transport routes to Hallownest should reopen soon, and the council wants you to know that our relations have not changed.

They also want to thank you for not intervening in internal Deepnestians matters.”

The king finally asked the burning question in his mind.

“That was certainly an efficient crisis gestion, but weren’t you supposed to avoid fighting? What changed.”

“Ah, yes, we did tell you that.”

“And?”

Achela answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world:

“We lied.”

“What!”

“You weren’t being reasonable, father. Hornet has progressed a lot recently, especially since she started training with Kahon in Deepnest. With her mother sleeping, she is probably the best warrior in Hallownest after the twins. Not using such in asset in a war would be foolish.”

“How dare you talk about your sister like that? An asset? She’s…”

“Fighting was my decision, father. My siblings only helped me convince you to let me go.”

“Even if that’s true, your sister shouldn’t have lied! Breaking trust with someone is an irreversible act, if you ever want to succeed as a ruler, you can’t afford it.”

His daughter was looking at him with a hint of annoyance in her eyes, like he was some idiot who knew nothing about politics compared to her. Keep yapping, old fool, see if I care. No. His daughter would never think that, she was just a child, and she always looked up to him.

Except now he was the one that needed to look up to meet her eyes. He looked at her clothes. Fine white silk, with silver embroidery. A royal blue cape, lined with gold. Her silhouette was slender, elegant. She looked more regal that he ever did. All his children did, each in their own way.

Rivals, the lot of them! Who would steal his kingdom if he didn’t kill them here and now.

He shivered. That was his wyrm instincts speaking. They have been getting louder, recently. He could identify them when they appeared so clearly, but how many times had he made a mistake under their influence? Was it what tore his family apart?

He looked again in the disapproving eyes of his daughter. Except this time, he only saw concern.

“Are you alright, father?”

“You’re a lot less pale than usual, dear.”, added his wife.

He wanted to say he was alright, when he felt a cold spear transpiercing his stomach. Except there was no spear, just a cold, burning feeling churning in his guts. He vomited a black, tar-like substance.

“Father! Quickly, bring him to the infirmary.”

“No, to his workshop.”

It was the first time in the meeting Vertan spoke. They all turned to him.

“He is being devoured by void from the inside. His workshop is a dark room, and there’s plenty more void in jars and the like. It should help soothe the void, make it less aggressive.”

“But wouldn’t light chase void from his body?”

“If his light didn’t work, then none will do. We need to bid time until we find a more effective solution to drain the void.”

“How do you know so much about the void?”

“I study a lot. Not the time to talk about that, we need to act fast.”

Chapter Text

The king’s workshop was nothing like it used to be. Clean, organized, livable, and frequented by many guests. The White Lady truly had realized a miracle in the last week, turning her husband’s mess into a comfortable apartment.

The Pale King was feeling much than before, though he felt his state degrade after a few hours out of the dark room. As such, he was trapped in a miniscule portion of his palace.

But he was probably the one who took the situation the best. His wife had not left his side a single instant, Kahon stayed in the palace in case they were needed, Achela was running the common problems by herself to lighten his workload, Hamelia and Hornet were neglecting their training to come see him more often, and Vertan was working his best with the physicians to cure him.

Vertan… His son had become a stranger in a blink, and now this stranger was giving everything for him. That’s how he felt about all his other children, too. Time was such a confusing thing. Maybe a mind built for eternity simply couldn’t accept that people changed so fast. Ever since the birth of his children, he felt like time had sped up.

And now that he was fighting with the sickness, it slowed down again. He slept a lot, took medication to get rid of any easily expellable void, and talked with guests, for no other purpose than company. He felt bad for it, like he had suddenly become a burden to his friends and family, when he was supposed to be the pilar upon which the kingdom stood. But he couldn’t support it anymore.

And even so he obviously would have preferred not to be sick, there was some selfish pleasure in having a good reason to not do much, and simply taking the time to live. Now that he had time to actually talk with his children, he was learning a lot about them. He figured this would help to mend his family, and to better understand them.

He was now convinced they all loved the kingdom as much as he did, but in different ways. Achela loved it as a ruler, like him, and Hamelia as a treasure to protect. Vertan saw it as delicate machinery, a wonderfully complex system that deserved to be studied with attention, and Hornet saw it as a model, an inspiration on how to run her own kingdom. She also understood the necessity of keeping the light of civilization alive, and did her best to help the cultures outside Hallownest survive in their own way.

And finally, Kahon loved the kingdom like a traveler, struck by the beauty of its landscapes, and trying to become friends with all its inhabitants, solve its centuries old mysteries, learn the very essence of it. He truly was amazed at what wonderful people his children had become, despite his own failings.

Truly, with how well he ended up despite his mistakes, he must had been blessed by powers beyond the gods themselves. Even if there were unpleasant times. Because his void infection was just that, a bad time that would soon be over. He was feeling much better already, recovery was just around the corner.

He was about there in his introspection when Vertan pushed the door of his room.

“Hello father. The Archives have sent us the results of the analysis.”

“Is it good?”

“You have feeling better as of late, have you not?”

“Well, yes.”

His son dodged the question and was avoiding eye contact. It was a little worrying, but he always had been shy.

“We determined that most of your symptoms were coming from your liver struggling against the void in it. However, this reaction has recently stopped.”

“Because there’s no more void in my liver?”

The young bug flinched, then entirely collapsed into tears.

“I’m sorry father. Your liver, it… It has completely stopped working. It’s not the only organ in that case, just the most important one. You don’t feel better because your body is winning, but because it’s giving up.”

Did the room really become darker all of a sudden? No, this was impossible! He was a god, he… he never foresaw his death, it couldn’t be happening! And yet…

He had been investigating a way to kill a god, didn’t he?

He simply couldn’t understand the implication of the news, and so he simply asked:

“How much time do I have?”

“We don’t know. You’re way tougher than a mortal, for sure. You might even still be able to recover. But personally, I would say around five months at worst, a year at best if we stay realistic.”

He had learned to trust his son’s judgment in medical matters.

“Please call your mother and siblings. We need to have a talk.”

*****

The room was deathly silent. The Royal family was too focused on stomaching the news to speak. The atmosphere was a whisper away from breaking.

Finally, after several minutes of seating in silence and darkness, the king dared to speak.

“We need to prepare the kingdom for the transition of power.”

All he earned was a slap from his wife’s root.

“This isn’t about the kingdom! You’re about to die! You… Please, forget the kingdom for just a day.”

“That’s impossible, my love. Look how much our children have grown. They’re adults now, not quite gods yet, but that will come. I don’t worry about them. But the kingdom, it can’t survive without a god to keep the populace sentient. And what kind of father leaves only crumbling ruins to his children? The best thing I can do for you and them is ensure the continuation of my work.”

“Keep your speeches for the nobility!”

Yet she didn’t argue. She knew he was right.

“I believe we all know who shall inherit the crown…”

“Please, father, don’t say that. We’ll find a way to cure you, I’m sure. We still have time! I don’t want to replace you.”

Vertan responded to her:

“We’ll do everything we can, of course, but we have to realize that it might not be enough. We should prepare for the worst and be happily surprised if it doesn’t work.”

To the surprise of everyone, Kahon offered:

“I might have an idea.”

“Really, what is it?”

“Simply order the void to leave your body. Void can be controlled after all, like in your kingsmoulds.”

Once again, Vertan reacted:

“The greatest scholars of the kingdom have been working on exactly that. The problem is that the void in his body is already strongly impregnated, and it’s difficult to make it accept the new programing.”

“I wasn’t talking about programming, but orders. I may not be a scholar, but I did learn a lot while exploring the kingdom. How much do you know about the first civilization in Hallownest?”

“Enough to know that whatever you’re thinking of is a terrible idea! They were mad to think they could control the void, and their hubris destroyed them, like it’s destroying me.”

The Pale King did NOT like how much this conversation reminded him of his first plan.

“It will be dangerous, sure, but there isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to cure you, father.”

No. They did not just say THAT!

“My child, not matter what you think, some costs are always too great. It is a lesson I learned too late. Don’t repeat my mistakes and throw your life away for mine.”

“Very well. If you insist that we don’t do everything in our power…”

They left the workshop visibly angry and slammed the door.

The oppressive atmosphere, where no one dared to speak, came back. Vertan seemed to concentrate for a few instants, before screaming:

“No! Stop them!”

But it was too late. If they didn’t want to be found, they would not. And no one saw them for a week. Then two. Then three. Soon, the worry that two deaths would need to be mourned spread through the palace.

Chapter Text

Beneath the lands of Hallownest lays a cave deeper than anything else in the kingdom. And at the bottom of this cave, there was a region that Kahon had never explored. In fact, no one had entered it since the king stopped their birth. Soon before, the king had stopped his void extraction program, for some reason.

But they had learned a lot about the abyss, the seat of power of the civilization that ruled Hallownest in times immemorial. Only worshipers of darkness could have lived so deep underground when the surface was still verdant.

But if their history was forgotten, their knowledge was not entirely lost. The snail shamans, who Kahon had studied magic with, where the keepers of said knowledge, using the void’s hunger for soul to gather it from the environment.

To the uninformed, void was the incarnation of death, chaos, hunger. But the old ones knew it was more than that. Void was above the concept of time and space, and more importantly, it conserved all the information of what it consumed.

It was through this property that the ancients, and presumably the Pale King, injected instructions into the void. But there was another way. Void was a suitable precursor for life, and the void beasts, whatever they were, could manipulate it like second nature.

The problem, thought Kahon as they admired the void sea, was were to find such a beast. As they got closer to the shore, tendrils lashed out at them, probably angered by their light.

Whatever controlled the void was hostile, this would complicate their plan. They got up on a cliff, to take a closer look at the void while staying outside of the tendril’s grasp. They only realized their mistake when the rock was crumbling to  dust, as the action of millennia was imprinted on it in seconds.

They were falling to their demise, and their wings had never grown quite large enough to truly fly. They dashed with all their strength towards the shore, but a tendril caught their ankle and dragged them into the sea.

They felt their body burning, dissolving, yet they didn’t give up and tried to keep their consciousness together as it was transferred into a new medium. They felt their mind breaking, their very being pushed apart by the current of the black fluid.

In their last instants of lucidity, they understood what the void beasts were: fragments of the mind of the void’s previous victims, recombined together until a stable configuration emerged through sheer luck, a literal shadow of their former selves. A horrible fate, and one they would soon share…

*****

Deep in the abyss, a shade was reforming. The ghost had once again lost their battle against the great scorpion, but it wasn’t going to stop them. They had more difficulty against other foes before, especially at the start of their existence. Besides, they were pretty confident in dodging all its attacks now, except that darn stinger swipe! But as long as they managed to stay above it, which was a skill they had mastered by now, they should do okay.

They once again floated to the ruined metal… thing where it was hiding. With a roar, the beast jumped at them, but they “jumped” far above it. Even if their form was getting clearer and clearer, they still lacked legs, but the precision of their movement wasn’t hindered in the slightest.

The combat was, frankly, anti-climactic. It mostly consisted of them pogoing the beast with their nail, and a couple uses of descending dark, their new favorite spell. Most of what the creature attempted to counterattack was laughably ineffective, but when it used its tail, it could be devastating.

With a little luck and a lot of muscle memory, the ghost finally won. Only 45 attempts, not bad for a monster that big. Now, to collect their reward. The corpse was already liquefying, and the process speeded up as they placed their hands against its head. They began absorbing the beast’s void into their body, including all the information it contained.

They weren’t planning on using its venom, but it could be useful later. The more interesting fact was that the thing actually had one of their memories! It was landscape, lush and green. Beautiful…

They were still not quite sure of who they were before they fell into the void, but it had only been a few hundreds of hours. They knew that someone had called them a ghost, hence their name, and that they probably knew soul magic, which they had now converted to void.

They were also pretty sure their body resembled their current shade. While their void was malleable, and could take any shape they wanted, this one just felt… right. They were clearer, more sharply defined, more physical in that form.

They had finished their “meal”, which was about ten time their volume, but that didn’t mean anything. The void was seemingly infinitely compressible, while keeping the same density. The power, however, could vary wildly between two same volumes of void.

How all this worked was above their paygrade, all they knew was that drinking the void sea was useless, and killing other void creatures made them stronger.  

Speaking of killing void creatures, there was one beast in particular they wanted to slay. The “amalgamation”, as they called it. Or maybe rather them, because the amalgamation was a loosely defined collection of most of the information and power accumulated by the void throughout the millennia.

It was the most powerful void entity out there, but that power was pretty much wasted. The amalgamation did not have a single mind, and the various remains of consciousness that composed it were often infighting. Only when they were all agreeing on something could they truly unleash their full might.

The problem was that if the ghost tried to kill them, they would probably be united by the interest of continued existence. The odds were quite in their disfavor. But they had grown much stronger already, and other beasts were becoming scarce.

It was probably time to tackle a new challenge.

*****

The first attempt was a disaster. So was the second, the third, every try up until the 64^th.

After a run far better than what they managed before, the amalgamation reacted strongly, going from puddle of slime shooting tendrils to indescribable mass of tendrils, with giant limb-like articulated tentacles. The thing now looked vaguely like a spider, but about as tall as a twenty-story building, and with eleven legs.

It was also much more difficult to fight now, and their 65^th run ended quite shortly after. But it didn’t matter. With enough perseverance, everything was possible.

Fighting the beast became part of a routine, also containing relaxation and training. They were in this for the long haul, so it would be better to not burn themselves out.

They were getting better and better, their reflexes and precision far surpassing even the best living bugs. On their 346^th attempt, they managed to push the amalgamation to open its eyes, which were innumerable and spread over its body. They were varying in size, showing the hierarchy that was establishing itself between the different minds of the beast.

In the face of an existential threat, it was getting more stable, more coordinated, and much more dangerous.

Hours flew by, becoming days in what felt like a blink of an eye. Soon, the ghost felt like they had spent more of their existence as a void being fighting the amalgamation than anything else.

On the 1759^th run, something very peculiar happened: a tendril shot out of the belly of the beast and tried to ensnare one of its legs. They were so surprised by this that they missed one of the void projectiles coming towards them.

But the phenomenon became more and more common, until finally, on their 2031^st attempt, they came out victorious.

The creature melted in a proper sea of void, which they became engulfed by, absorbing the liquid at a ridiculous rate.

In all the information their brain was absorbing, they discovered the reason for their victory: some of the beast’s minds viewed them as an escape from their existence of suffering and decided to help them. They were forever grateful.

They felt their own shape disappearing as the sea was entering the body faster and faster, until all that remained was a black ovoid. An egg? No, a cocoon, in which they were becoming something new.

Even if the shell was technically part of their body, it blocked their senses from reaching the outside. They could still feel all the void in the abyss coming to them, bringing them even more power.

But that was not all the void in the world, no. They had recovered a vision from their old life, and they now knew they had a mission. An interloper had stolen void from the abyss, and they would be taking it back.

Chapter Text

Deep under Hallownest, a creature emerges from its cocoon, born anew. Whitin them is flowing the cold power of the Void, all of it, under their control. The ghost now realizes that they were never an ordinary bug. They used to be a godling, and now, they’ve ascended.

And what an ascension! Their divinity was hard-earned, but that only made them feel more powerful. In the mirror-like shell of the now broken cocoon, they took a look at themselves.

Their form was now perfectly defined, their body made of pitch-black chitin, while their head was still a blinding white. Wait, still? Was it like that before? They had the uncomfortable sensation that their memory was locked inside their own head, like they had the information there but couldn’t recall it.

It would make sense, they all collected all the data in the void, so it should be here. But perhaps their memories were hard to find in this endless pool of knowledge. Their quest to discover who they were wouldn’t end soon; it seemed.

While they were at it, they wanted to check their powers. It seemed they had not changed much. Their spells were simply more powerful, they had a better control over the shape of their body, and were physically stronger. It seemed they would need training to reach their full potential as a god. Well, they were pretty sure of their immortality by now, so they had time.

They also realized that they were naked, so maybe putting some clothes on would be a good idea.

Turning back to their makeshift mirror, they pondered what they could use, when they noticed their wings. They were definitely bigger than before, looking quite butterfly-like, but in the same beyond-black color as their body. However, they were covered in white glowing markings, strongly reminiscing of soul seals.

That gave them an idea: if their body was made of void, but looked like normal matter, couldn’t they use void to will any object they wanted into existence?

They wrapped themselves in a cloak of void, and tried turning it into velvet. It didn’t work. They focused on imagining the texture of the fabric, how it would react to light, how heavy it would be…

With a lot of effort, they managed to change the void’s properties until it looked like velvet. This was definitely straining, and even after the initial transformation, it took some willpower to prevent the void from returning to its original form, but it worked.

They had some fun with their outfit, creating white motifs similar to those on their wings, a little silver chain to hold their cloak, several layers of fabric… It was getting easier as they practiced. Eventually, they landed on a style that they were happy. “Fit for a god!”, they thought to themselves.

They did remember the mission they had given themselves, however. Reclaiming the void stolen by that white bug. They didn’t know why, but they felt it was very important to them before, maybe even the reason they came to the abyss in the first place.

Their current outfit was not very suited for fighting or discretion. They kept its design in a corner of their memory and went back to the drawing board.

They settled for a cloak of rough, dark blue fabric, under which they wore some plates of armor, deliberately not matching, and looking a little weary. They didn’t know in which measure they could stray off the properties of real matter, but despite their appearance, these plates were much stronger than steel.

Finally, they completed their equipment with a pure nail. It was maybe a little too fancy for the look they were going for, but it came to them so naturally, they were half convinced this was their old nail reconstructed from the void that dissolved it.

They were ready to head out of their domain, and into the vast kingdom of Hallownest. That damn thief would pay!

*****

The kingdom was not as interesting as they thought so far. Some crawlids, black rock, endless caves, it kind of looked like the abyss, maybe a little more claustrophobic. To be fair, it was the region closest to the abyss, but the void thief was close, they could sense it.

Finaly, after flying a little to climb a cliff and carefully making their wings disappear, they finally stumbled in a large cave.

Well, now they knew where their enemy was. They were facing the largest bug-made structure they remembered ever saying, a palace, or, more accurately, a complex of white glowing stones.

Now, how to enter this place discretely? The owner of this palace wasn’t a nobody, so surely its entrance would be well guarded. Hiding behind a stone, they observed the entrance.

A lot of people entering, less leaving. It was probably morning, and servants were coming to work, in their white uniforms. Seriously, why was everything here white? Their eyes were already hurting.

Could they disguise themselves as a servant? With a lot of effort, they managed to completely change their body and created a mirror of void to judge the result.

It was suspicious as hell. Their body looked made of smoke, and they even left some curls when moving. Okay, new plan. They were a creature of shadows, so could they hide in shadows. With a lot of concentration, they found the memories of a void best that lived a few thousand years earlier, that had the power to become someone’s shadow.

Now, all they had to do was to find a suitable target. They spotted a messenger a few hundred meters away that would be perfect. They turned into puddle of void and slipped in her shadow, making sure to stay outside her field of view.

Now, they just had to wait and hope the guards didn’t notice anything. They looked quite capable, after all. Nearly as tall as them, wearing a full white armor, except for their black…

Wait a minute. He wouldn’t have dared to…

Yes, he did. These were void constructs. Well, seems like stealth was never an option.

When the messenger passed the gate, they left her shadow, and impaled one of the guards on their nail, absorbing their void through it. They beheaded the other and drank its essence like it was a bottle.

The bugs around screamed in horror, which made them realize they had made a mistake: they wanted to avoid hurt innocent bystanders, but if the crowd panicked, it could have some dire consequences.

“Quiet!”, they ordered. To their surprise, despite no words leaving their non-existent throat, everyone understood them and seemed to obey.

Now, to find the thief. They could sense more void constructs everywhere in the palace, destroying them by hand would be tiresome. They simply commended the void to break its containers. It didn’t work. Well, it was worth a shot. At least, they could feel many jars breaking in a storage room somewhere. And it seemed the thief was there too. How did they sense that? Did he have void in his body? They’d know soon enough.

The palace was somewhat labyrinthic, but at least, no one dared to try to slow them down. That was until they reached some kind of grand hall, where six bugs in armor blocked the way. They all looked very strong, especially the tall and thin one, who looked a lot like…

Like them, actually, but in pure white, and different horns too. They were probably from the same species, though they would have to look into that.

“We’re sorry, prince, but…”

“I don’t know what prince you’re talking to, but know I am sorry too.”

They unleashed a shade soul, sending their opponents flying.

Except one. The one from their species had dodged their spell.

Damn, she’s fast, they thought. Wait, how do I know she’s a girl?

No time for that, she was counter attacking with a spell of her own, a volley of soul daggers. They were too big to properly dodge it.

Ouch, that stings. They needed to put her out of commission quickly.

They shot a tendril towards her, which she dodged. But it kept getting longer and following her, eventually splitting into two, then four, then eight, until the room was filled with the black, eldritch mass. She couldn’t run away now, and they grabbed her with the tendrils. They then turned some of their void into a potent tranquilizer, which they injected in her neck. The other warriors got the same treatment, just in case.

Finally, they would get their justice. They entered the room. It was the dimmest in the palace by far. And here he was, lying in bed, and looking scared like a little child in the dark. He was pathetic. They grabbed him by the neck, with one hand, and lifted him into the air.

Sure enough, he had a lot of void in his body. And also, on his forearm, the keystone of the seal keeping the void constructs together. They broke it without hesitation.

Then, with the most hate-filled look they could muster, they pumped every single last droplet of void out of his body. They were about to throw him on the ground, when they suddenly felt an inexplicable wave of compassion towards him. They felt like they had messed up so badly, yet didn’t know why.

They carefully placed him back in his bed, and, with the loudest telepathic “sorry” possible to everyone in the palace, ran to the abyss, sealing the door.

What had they done? What was so bad that it made them almost physically throw up in disgust at themselves? Who even where they?

They sat on the ground, their back against the void metal door, and cried.

Chapter Text

There is, in the abyss, a cave much larger than the others. It is so vast, in fact, that from one side, you can’t see the other. In it, there is a lake of void, bigger than any other: “the void sea”. Really, it’s a little too small to be called a sea. It is just a big lake. But “the void big lake” doesn’t roll quite so well of the tongue.

On the shore of this lake, there was one of the only buildings in the area, a lighthouse, built by the king when he was extracting void from the abyss. It was quite ideally located, near the entrance of the abyss and almost perfectly in its center. And it was already furnished.

So, when the ghost came back from their disastrous expedition, they quite naturally stumbled into the abandoned structure, and collapsed on the bed of the keeper, now abandoned for years. They finally felt somewhat at peace and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

When they woke up, they assessed the situation, and decided the lighthouse would be a perfect base of operation, or even a home. So, while their mind was trying to process what they had done, they busied their body with fixing the structure.

The cleaning process was the easiest, since their body was made of a natural vacuum cleaner. Then came impregnating the white structure with void, turning it into “voidstone”. They had invented a whole range of void materials, halfway between raw void and the “mimic-matter” they used for their clothes.

But things got harder when it was time for the furniture. They couldn’t make it all out of mimic-matter, as that would be way too tiring. But living with furniture made of only void would be horribly depressing. So, they needed to procure materials elsewhere. And that meant going into the kingdom above.

Which, on the mental side, was perhaps exactly what they needed. While the repetitive tasks of the last few days had been quite soothing, they had made no progress on recovering their memory. So, a trip to the place they used to live in would surely help.

Now, they weren’t going on such an expedition unprepared. First, while being ten meters tall was useful in a fight, it wasn’t great to avoid attention. So, they needed a less conspicuous form. Last time, they didn’t look material when changing their form to another bug, but what if they took the appearance of a bug that the void had consumed?

With some effort, they found an appropriate candidate. An ant named Pello, a poor beggar who lived two centuries ago, who decided to end his miserable existence on his own terms. They noticed, with some frustration, that they had no problem remembering that while they couldn’t remember their name.

They also realized that they were probably the only bug in the world to remember the poor ant, and if they were going to steal his face, they should probably build him a grave or monument. Besides, it would be good training for their use of void. They had a specific idea in mind…

After finding a boulder of an appropriate size and shape, they simply engulfed it in void and started carefully dissolving the stone. Many times, they feared having messed up something, as their sculpting skills weren’t the best. But when they got the curtain of void down, they were quite happy with the result.

The statue was a little stylized, but the ant was recognizable. His tethered cloak, floating in the wind, gave him an aura of wisdom, while his face was that of a man at peace with himself. His carved walking street was a faithful recreation of the original, the only artistic outlet of a man with a lot of talent and creativity.

Now, for the finishing touch, they would switch to soul. Concentrating the vital energy at the extremity of their finger, they inscribed in white glowing letter:

“In memory of Pello, the ant, who despite his low birth showed more bravery in his final decision than many nobles in their entire life.”

They placed the statue near the shore, alongside a bench and lamppost made of voidmetal. In their travel, they would make sure to get a few flowers, too.

Now, it was time to change forms. The process went a lot than they had thought, and they were soon a perfect lookalike of Pello, down to the clothing. They did create some of better quality, to look more like a traveler than a beggar, but nothing too fancy.

Now, they were ready.

*****

The capital was a beautiful sight, but not one that brought back many memories. It was, however, probably the best place to buy furniture. Well, that would be if they had any money! They didn’t thought about that. Of course, they could theoretically create geo out of thin air, but it would be pretty dishonest. Besides, once it was in circulation, it would require constant effort to maintain, or risk some rather awkward situations. So, buying furniture would have to wait.

They had emerged from the ancient basin, and as such, were currently in the richest district in the city. And despite their acceptable appearance, they were getting quite some stares. So, they decided to go to the other side of the watcher’s spire. They were a little uneasy at the idea of getting so close to the ruler of the city, as they were probably the most wanted criminal in the kingdom, but they were unrecognizable.

Avelo never even reached a hundredth of Lurien’s talent, anyway. Huh? Where did that remark come from?

Eventually, they reached the great plaza, where they looked less out of place. They took a moment to appreciate the statue of the monarchs and pondered their options.

The stags and trams took geo, so that was out. But if they wanted to travel without them, that meant going on foot. In this form, they already needed three hours to go from the abyss to the city, so reaching Greenpath could take around a day, without pause.

They didn’t want to travel for so long. So, what could they do? While they were thinking about that, they noticed a little caterpillar, staring in wonder at the statue. They asked a moth, presumably their father:

“Dad, is it true that the king saved you? So, you met him?”

“Not personally, no.”

“But mom always says that’s how she met you!”

“Well, he did save me, in a way. When I was younger, the kingdom was ravaged by a plague called the infection. The seer told you that story, no?”

“Yes! The king decided to seal all the infection in a vessel he built, and three great bugs were put into eternal sleep to protect it. Now, they live in the dream realm, and during the night, you can ask them for advice.”

“I’m not sure about that last part, but back then, I caught the infection. Your mom was a nurse in the resting grounds hospital. We fell in love when my disease was still in its early stages, and she prayed to the queen every night that I may heal. In the end, the physicians thought I would die three days before the sealing. But through nothing short of a miracle, I held the three days, and then recovered. She’s convinced that it was an intervention of the king himself, but I think it was her attentive care.”

Cute story. But why do I feel like it’s important?

The ghost thought back about the void they had extracted from the king’s body. It wasn’t impregnated with any instructions, so it was just devouring him from the inside. Which meant its presence was probably an accident.

The king was sick, and they came to the abyss in an attempt to cure him. That put everything they thought into perspective. That didn’t solve their money problems, though!

*****

A few days later, they were in Greenpath, looking for plants to decorate Pello’s grave and the balcony of the Darkhouse. They had renamed their home. After all, what kind of God of darkness lives in a lighthouse?

The renovation of their house was coming along very well, thanks to their space manipulation, one of the best aspects of being made of void. They could store matter in a parallel dimension, and teleport back to specific points. Well, only one point for now, since it was straining to create and maintain (what wasn’t, at this point?), but it was useful to be able to get back home quickly.

The restoration of their memory was progressing, too, but not that fast. Sometimes, they would recognize a person, a building, a particular geographical feature, sometimes even a scent. Then, some memories would connect with each other, pushing them a little further.

They now knew that they used to be big fans of exploration and cartography, and they had made an intricate map of Hallownest, that they recreated out of mimic-matter.

But they still couldn’t remember their name, or their relationship with the king. They had barely any memory of their childhood, except that they were considered an above average bug, and that the knight from the same species they had fought was actually their twin. Sorry, sis.

Combined with a confused memory of being thrown into jail with her, their best theory so far was that they orphans, that lived in the streets before they got into trouble. The king took interest in them, feeling their great potential, and pardoned them in exchange for joining his service, hence their loyalty.

This theory didn’t resonate with them, didn’t feel true, but it was the most logical one with what they knew so far.

But the area of Greenpath they were in right now felt very familiar. They were straining from the road quite a bit and getting closer to the queen’s gardens. It was probably not a good idea to enter them, considering they had attacked her husband less than a week ago.

In fact, it would probably be best if they turned back now. But they didn’t. Pushed by some urge to explore, they kept going deeper into the grove. Until they reached a place they recognized.

When they were young, they came to this place, against the king’s orders. He came searching for them in person because…

Because they were his child.

The instant this thought crossed their mind, they knew it was the truth. That was the missing piece to find their memory back. Of course it didn’t get all their memories come back immediately.

But they spent a whole night drawing connections with what they remembered, testing hypotheses, meditating. And when morning struck, they had a pretty good idea of who they were.

Prince Kahon of Hallownest, God of the void.

Chapter Text

They didn’t remember ever being so stressed. Granted, they still didn’t remember that much. But they were pretty sure they never were in a situation as awkward as coming to apologize to their father for attacking his castle.

The whole thing was bordering on surreal. This morning, they had finally figured out their identity, and their first reaction was to not do anything special. They took their usual breakfast of crawlid steamed in void, finalized the renovation they planned, got their plants out of voidspace and into the soil, before putting on their best outfit, and leaving the darkhouse as if going for a walk.

During this process, they didn’t think about what would happen next. In fact, they specifically acted that way to avoid thinking about it. Because what could they do honestly? Say “sorry, I suffered from sudden and extremely inconvenient amnesia”? That probably wouldn’t earn them a pardon. And while their father was doing his best to be a better bug with his children, they remembered him not being very good at it.

As for how the rest of the family would react, who knew? Probably a combination of being glad they survived and unease at their new nature.

What was certain, however, was how the kingdom would react. And that would not be in a good way. The majority of the inhabitants feared the void because they didn’t know it, and the others feared it because they did.

But hey, the longer they waited, the worse the damage. So that’s why, a little before noon, they entered the palace grounds.

The activity in the cave stopped, as if their mere presence sucked the liveliness of bugs around them.

Void, don’t think of it like that.

They kept walking, trying to appear undeterred. They were unsure about their success. Fighting the urge to run away, the reached the palace’s doors, where two living guards, shambling in fear, did their best to hold their nails straight and in their direction.

“Halt! State the reason for your presence!”

They were trying to answer when they realized they had no mouth and doing it by telepathy would probably scare the life out of everyone around.

That oversight was quickly corrected, and hopefully, the guards didn’t notice their body changing.

“I request an audience with his majesty, the Pale King, to apologize for what happened last week, and clarify the situation for him.”

“And who do you think you are, to request such an aud…”

The gates open, as a large white figure all but jumped outside

“My child!”

*****

“You know, my dear, they will not disappear if you let go of them.”

“Yes, Mother, I promise I’m fine now.”

The White Lady had been holding her child since she noticed them outside the palace and seemed to have no intention to stop.

“I was so worried. I thought you had disappeared forever, replaced by a beast. But you’re back, that’s wonderful!”

The other children, who had been called in urgence, entered the room.

“You’re back! How? Father thought your mind was the price of your ascension.”

“The what?”

“I’m sure father can explain it better than me.”, answered Achela, as she crossed the door.

Following her was Hamelia, looking not that mad about the anesthetic, then Hornet, looking a little worried, and finally Vertan, looking a LOT more worried.

“Please, take your seats”, asked the king. “I think this is a good occasion to have a family lunch, yes?”

“What’s the price of my ascension?”

“Well, I thought it was your mind, but evidently it was not.”

“No, I meant in general?”

“I never told you about the apotheosis process? Wait.” He looked at his other children. “Who among you knows about it?”

Only Achela raised her hand.

“Well, better late than never. Time for a little lesson on divinity. See, you are all higher beings, but not gods yet, except for Kahon. Do you know the difference?”

“They have a divine domain?” asked timidly Vertan.

“Trick question! The difference is that Kahon went through the process of ascension, also called apotheosis. The divine domain, immortality, and everything else are merely side effects.”

“And what is the definition of ascension, then?”

“It’s the process through which a higher being, or any being really, it just rarely happens to regular bugs or plants, … How to put it? It’s quite hard to give a precise definition, because it’s different for every god, but usually, the being gains enormous power at a price. The price can be more or less expensive, but usually the greater the price, the more powerful the god. The price I paid, for example was my form as a wyrm.”

“And you, mother?”

“I lost my chlorophyl.”

She appeared unpleased with the reaction of her son.

“What? It’s a great loss for a plant! You have no idea how much free energy I gave up for this form!”

“So, what you’re telling me is that I lost something permanently by becoming void? Wouldn’t the price just be my previous body in that case?”

“That’s possible. Wait! Your previous body? What actually happened to you?”

“I was looking for artefacts from the precursors of Hallownest, when void tendrils dragged me into the sea. I was dissolved, but my mind became engraved in the void, and my will kept it together, though my memory was shattered. Then, I fought all the creatures of the void, uniting it all inside my mind and body.”

“That does sound like a pretty high price already, yes.”

The conversation went on to different subjects: what were their powers, what did they do in all that time, where did they find these clothes, what were they planning to do now…

Only one person remained silent. The White Lady took notice.

“Hornet, dear, you’ve been awfully silent. Is something on your mind?”

“Can they kill the Radiance?”

“What?”

“Father was looking for a way to turn the void into a weapon, Kahon is now the god of void. Can they kill the Radiance.”

“I don’t know? Maybe I can, but there’s only one way to find out, and it’s kind of dangerous. I would like to avoid fighting the goddess of dreams in her realm.”

“And I would like to meet my mother.”

“Good point. Well Father, do you have an idea on how to access the dream realm?”

“I do, but it’s going to need a rather awkward trip to the resting grounds.”

Chapter Text

The moth tribe was amongst the oldest people of Hallownest. They were here since before the wyrm, before the root, even. The exact reason for their arrival was lost to time, but one could make an educated guess.

The moths were pacifist, and when the continent collapsed into war and chaos, they fled to this somewhat remote forest. Then, when the sky was covered in ash, and plants on the surface started dying, they retreated from the peak they inhabited, to what became the resting grounds. Then, the root awakened, then the wyrm arrived. For the first time in its history, the moth tribe had a light to revere, a god to pray to, and they put their knowledge of dreams to his service.

Such was the history, transmitted from seer to seer, of the moths. And yet, the current seer couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with it. She didn’t know what, couldn’t point out any inconsistency, and yet, every time she thought of it, it rang false.

But these concerns mattered little in the grand scheme of things. Her tribe was doing well, left alone by the people of the kingdom, but still cared for by its king. They were also taking care of all the dead people of the kingdom, and there were few more noble missions.

But there would be little use for their services today, she foresaw it. Her gift was more limited than the king’s, btu on this specific point, she was rarely wrong. So, after waking up, she prepared herself an infusion and went right back to sleep, this time to dream.

The dream realm was a hard place to navigate, and you could easily leave the areas where reality was well defined, which would wake you up. But she had a lot of experience. In the dream realm, she was eternally young and could fly all she wished. It was perhaps one of the reasons she liked spending time there. But she still had responsibilities.

She noticed a beautiful building of glass and metal. Someone from the city of tears brought it here, most likely. She entered through the window. The inner decoration was luxurious, with great red carpets and portraits plastered on the walls. Most likely a noble family’s appartement. In the dream realm, however, the portraits all appeared blank.

She heard a bug sobbing in a room close by. After getting a little lost in the dream apartment, she finally found them in the kitchen. Dream architecture is incredibly confusing and complex since it’s based on the bug’s memory of the place. As such, if it was a place in which they spent a lot of time, it tended to become an endless labyrinth of rooms, endlessly repeated but always from a different point in time. For example, the kitchen she found the bug in was already the seventh, and there were probably more out there. Of course, such a complex couldn’t fit in the building seen from the outside, but dreams didn’t care about that.

Well, she was here, and that was what mattered. Now, to comfort the bug, visibly a servant of some kind.

“Is everything alright, miss?”

“No, it’s not! Ho, my poor little Lucia, you’re not ready for the world. I told your mother, but she says this marriage is essential, and a servant like me can’t understand, and I shouldn’t get to attached and…”

“Hey, hey, calm down. Can you hear me?”

“Ah, mistress! You shouldn’t be here!”

The poor beetle was out of her mind, clearly. But she was stuck in the dream realm, so you couldn’t expect sanity.

“It’s fine, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh miss, they’re going to throw you to the antlions. To the antlions, do you hear me? The Caranak family, I heard they cut off the bride’s wing to make sure she can’t escape, and then they paint the antennae with herbs, so others can’t smell her distress!”

She was getting a good picture of what was happening. An over-protective nanny whose charge was getting married to another family and was excessively worried about her. It was understandable, but to worry to the point of getting stuck in the dream realm was not a reasonable reaction.

Dreams were a dangerous thing, even without the infection. Fleeing reality, getting stuck in a cycle of negative thoughts, ceasing to think and acting only on instinct, chasing impossible fantasies and crashing down in despair… People could be hurt by their own mind, and the seer did her best to prevent that.

“Shhh. It’ll be alright. You need to wake up.” Along with her words, she twisted lightly the essence in the air, untying the knot that was forming.

“Ah! Who are you! What are you doing here.”

“This is a dream. You should wake up. Lucia still needs you, I’m sure.”

“You’re right. I can’t lose myself like me. It wouldn’t do! What would my poor mother think if she knew her daughter was dreaming at work! Ho my poor mother…”

She was slowly disappearing from the dream realm, regaining her senses. One good thing was done today. The building was fading away, revealing another moth.

“Markoth?”

“Seer, there are people who want to see you.”

“Is it for a burial?”

“No. but…”

“Then they will wait. The rules are the same for everyone.”

“It’s the royal family.

“Oh.”

The seer had dealt with nobles before, almost always in the same circumstances. They were here to try to gain the favor of the moth tribe, either because they were worried about their afterlife, or because they wanted some of their land or artifacts. But they also always acted hauntingly, like they were better than them. Safe to say this sabotage all of their efforts.

But the royal family was different. For one, they were immortal, so it’s not like they needed their service. They were also not the superficial kind. It probably was important if they wanted to see someone as low as her in the social hierarchy.

So, she woke up, only to find herself face to face with the Pale King.

“AH! Excuse me, your majesty. You startled me a bit.”

“I’m sorry. Seer, my children and I need to access the dream realm.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?”

The king sighed, before getting closer, and whispering in her ear.

“Yes, I can. Listen, I need to talk with you. Alone.”

“Markoth, please leave us.”

“But…”

“If the wyrm wanted to harm me, you could do nothing anyway.”

“Fine. I’ll go wait outside with the giants.”

She got up, only then realizing she had been on eye level with the king when she was sitting.

“Do you desire anything?”

“Only answers.” He got a parchment out of his robe. “Do you recognize this seal?”

“I thought that would be your area of expertise. Though I recognize some patterns for essence manipulation, perhaps memory? It’s really complex, and blends several schools of soul manipulation, whoever created it must be a genius!”

“We created it together.”

“I have no memory of this. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

“Of course not. This is a memory lock, created to prevent you from remembering certain things.”

“Why did you do this?”

“You agreed, at the time. And once I break it, I’m sure you’ll understand the reason.”

With that, white light ran through the parchment, and it disappeared into thin air.

Hundreds of memories rushed through her mind. The Radiance. To limit her power, the moth tribe had agreed to cast her from their record, but the seers still transmitted the full story to their successors. When the infection appeared, the king believed that this was the last thread connecting her to reality, and, considering the threat, she had agreed to severe it.

But it had been in vain, for the infection was already self-sufficient, and she probably had other connections anyway.

“Why do this? Why now?”

“I couldn’t keep you without part of your memory in good conscience, now that the threat will soon be null. And I also want to have as much information on the Radiance as possible before we kill her.”

“And who’s ‘we’?” Now that she had memories of her previous collaboration with the king, she was way less stressed by his presence.

“Mostly Kahon, my fourth child. They have ascended to godhood, and I believe that they will be able to beat her.”

“They must be a very physical god, because I felt nothing in the dream realm.”

“They are. That’s what will allow them to defeat her, mind and dream are to close for me to kill her.”

“Well, there is one thing. It’s not related to the Radiance, but gods in general. There are some instances of gods transferring their divinity to another entity. A god of nightmares notably transferred it to a third party to keep his power even with less essence available. The process seems to vary depending on the god but watch out for that. Desperate people tend to do desperate things.”

“Thank you for your advice! I’d offer you extend your lifespan, but…”

“I have lived forty-five years, that’s already a lot. If I wanted to live longer, I wouldn’t need your help.”

“So that’s still a no. Well, I do hope we’ll see each other again. Goodbye, seer.”

And with that, he left her tent. Soon, Markoth entered it, and asked.

“I couldn’t get a word out of the princes about what was going on. Are you alright, seer?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Radiance, why must it end like this? You loved us, back then, you really did. But now there is only hate in your heart.

Chapter Text

From her position, disguised as the sun, the goddess of dream gazed at her realm. An island, sitting in the middle of an endless ocean. Well, island was a big word. A sandbank would be a more appropriate description. On it was sitting an assortment of discarded objects, her attempts at creating matter in this dream.

Because this was still a dream, the giant floating particles of essence left no doubt. And yet, even she struggled to bend it to her will. Stupid vessel. Cutting her off from the world and trapping her in this…This facsimile of the sea back in the days.

The sky blue, and the water bluer, the never setting sun blasting the hot sand, the small waves, the delicate wind, nothing was missing. Except for any kind of life.

At first, she had thought that was what the creature longed for, and she tried to seduce it by promising to make this vision a reality.

But after a year, she finally realized that this was what could be approached to a nightmare. So, she started to promise it a way to escape, a great sailboat noticing them, delivering them from this aqueous prison. But they didn’t react either. Eventually, she realized that the thing was completely deaf to her plea.

So, she tried brute force, with a little more success. She slowly regained control over this realm, eventually enough to figure out it was the wyrm who trapped her in this. Of course it was the wyrm, why wouldn’t it be the wyrm?

That wretched imposter, who went as far as erasing the memories of her followers. She was much older than the little brat, and in her youth, she had witnessed the war that ravaged the world indelibly. Back then, she didn’t understand the actions of the other gods, thought them devoured by madness. But now she understood. It didn’t matter if the world burned, as long as he burned with it.

Yes, burn!

The sun became thousands of times brighter, making the ocean boil and the sand melt. The Radiance left her spot to inspect the result. The small dunes had been turned into a green, opaque glass. A beautiful and ominous sight, one that would not last. She had repeated the exercise a thousand times over the last years, so she knew what was coming.

She returned to her favorite spot, curling comfortably into a ball of heat and light. Then, she watched as her creation sunk, and sand floated in the wind from wherever, recreating the island as it was before. It was oddly relaxing to watch the particles fly in patterns, slowly filling the holes or getting blown off at the whims of the wind. She had watched it countless times, but she felt like she would never get bored of this.

And then a huge pillar of white light appeared in the middle of the island, and when it disappeared, she could see her two worst enemies. And a knight, who was obviously related to both.

Closely related.

Did he F*CK the void?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was homing orb in your face!

They all dodged it, obviously. Well, she didn’t know what the new shade lord was capable of, so she would focus on the usurper. She summoned a barrage of nails on him, which he was incapable of blocking. Annoyingly, his progeny managed to do it for him, but the next strike…

She felt a nail piercing her flesh with great strength. The shade lord had reached her, with the butterfly wings they had grown seemingly in an instant. They really looked like moth wings, too, which only made her angrier. She was focusing several lasers on her oldest enemy, keeping only a few nails out to keep the Pale King busy.

She felt like she had struck a good balance, until she felt a full volley of soul daggers in her side.

She assessed the situation. If she focused on one opponent, that would free up the others. If she attacked all three at once, it wouldn’t be enough to pin them down. Besides, she was already gravely injured. If it was any other dream, she could have bent it to give herself an advantage, but here? She was powerless. Vanquished in a couple blows.

Had she lost? Was it how she died? Evidently it was, as the void incarnate started to revert to its true form of ungodly mass of tendrils. She began to laugh. Her story was over, but before her death, she could still do some damage. She began to weave essence into a basket of sort, paying no mind to the gaping maw forming behind her.

When she was swallowed and torn apart, no one took notice of a droplet of orange among so many others. And when the king woke his “pure vessel” up, the container escaped into the dream realm at large, broadcasting the Radiance’s final message. The dream heart was out there, and whoever found it would become the god of dreams.

If the Radiance was still alive, she would have laughed. But a god has no chance of surviving the void, and a mortal even less. But her divinity was still out there, and that knowledge was enough to hurt Hallownest.

And with some luck, it would end up in the right (or wrong, depending on the point of view) hands. And then, it could cause some real damage.

Chapter Text

The Pale King was standing in front of a seal, the most powerful one to have ever been designed. Kept shut by the soul of three great mortals. What was inside of it might as well be another universe. And he was about to break it. It would be fine, probably. The Radiance should still be contained, the vessel still in stasis, the whole thing in the exact same state it was ten years ago.

But what if it wasn’t? What if the Radiance had broken through the first layer of defense, and would escape as soon as the dreamers woke up? He supposed that in that case, she would eventually escape even if he did nothing, and so it was better to deal with it now.

Behind him, the twins were getting a little nervous. Confident, but not as much as they had been when setting off to the black egg temple. Well, there was no point in waiting longer. He raised his hand and with a blinding glow of soul, the door to the egg shattered.

He took a cautious step inside. It had not changed at all. The glowing pillars of soul still detached clearly on the black background of void, still powering the seals and sigils of the central chamber. He walked towards it, his mind wandering to the dreamers who were waking up, to his daughter and her mother who were meeting for the first time.

But while their ordeal was over, his was only beginning. He entered the central chamber and was greeted with the sight that had been haunting him ever since that day.

A tiny creature, even less tall than him, and significatively less bulky, was hanging from heavy iron chains. They were digging into its flesh, keeping its limbs glued to its body. Said body was reacting to the foreign presence, turning red and purple, and swelling in ways that looked horribly painful, even if the thing’s biology was unknow. Under it was a brown crust of dried-up liquid, which was revealed to be the creature’s hemolymph when a droplet of the deep red fluid fell from one of its arms.

The king got closer and dipped a finger in the puddle that was forming from the proper rivulet that was running from under the chain. Had the vessel been hurt by the chains and then healed by the spells for a decade?

But when his shell touched the liquid, he shivered. This was not hemolymph, but blood! The implications were worrying, but that was a concern for later.

“What’s the holdup, father?”

“Nothing. Are you ready?”

“As we’ll ever be.”

Soul flowed from his fingers, in a complex spell. He was not as familiar with the dream realm as other gods, but he still was able to enter it, at the cost of a lot of power. As the light got brighter and brighter, all he could see was white. And when that dissipated, he was on a small island made of sand. The sky was clear, the sea was blue, it was a sight he never witnessed in his life.

Is this the Radiance’s mind… Or the vessel’s?

He turned to face the sun, which he immediately learned was a terrible idea. The orb was so bright he felt as if its shape was changing. Hold on. It was changing. It was her.

He felt Hamelia catch him and pull him out of the way of the incoming projectile. The Old Light was here, and she was angry. At him, specifically. He nearly flinched at the sight of the hundreds of soul nails converging on him. But Hamelia didn’t. She plunged her greatnail into the sand, summoning a cage of soul spikes to protect him.

Meanwhile, Kahon was catching up to their opponent, and she shifted her focus towards them, but too late. She was already hurt. Hamelia was getting up, too, and attacked her from the side.

And then it was over. Tendrils shot out of his youngest child, ensnaring her, while they adopted a form more fitting of the god of void: an abomination with no rhyme or reason, built to obey no logic rule, simply this primordial order: devour.

It would be a lie to say that he was not a little disgusted. He knew what his child had become, but it was another thing seeing it. He also realized his twins defeated a god in just two blows, and he was very grateful these new gods were on his side.

Hamelia wasn’t even a god yet…

The dream around them was collapsing, after all, the pure vessel was unable to dream by itself, and with the goddess of dreams vanquished, nothing supported this part of the realm.

It was over. The nightmare that nearly destroyed his kingdom was over. The last remnants of the old world had tried and failed to destroy it, and it only came out stronger. Now, it would be eternal for sure.

Once again in the waking realm, he appreciated the instant. History was over. This would be the last major conflict to happen in the universe. Under his rule, all that would ever happen now was going to be a pleasant epilogue.

Of course, there would still be pain, conflict between individuals, new discoveries and art, but…

He had won that game that was reality.

“Hum, Father? What do we do with the pure vessel?”

His daughter’s remark pulled him out of his daydreaming.

“Bring it to the palace’s infirmary, and I’ll see what I can do to repair it.”

He took another look at it. That thing was alien, and his doctors probably wouldn’t know what to do with it. Besides, if his intuition was correct, it was artificial.

“On second thought, maybe to my workshop?”

He carefully manipulated the soul in the chains, to transfer the stasis seals to the vessel’s body. It would be easier to transport asleep, and it would avoid them bleeding out on the way to safety. Then, the chains entwined, and the creature fell in his daughter’s arms.

As they left the temple, he cast one last glance at what the vessel had endured for the last decade.

I really hope they’re as soulless as they seem.

******

In the Hidden Village, the tension was unbearable. No one knew the exact hour at which the seal would be broken, and since the beginning of the day, the whole kingdom was holding its breath.

In the last two months, continuous effort had been made to prepare for the return of the queen, and it had been difficult. Deepnest had changed a lot by some aspect, and not so much by others, but with the end of the infection and the industrialization of the country, there had been a population boom.

For the deepnestian youth, which was now a sizeable group, Herrah had been a nearly mythological figure. They were still getting used to the idea that the eternal queen frozen in time was about to come back to life.

And for one young spider in particular, this was a moment she had waited for her entire life. She knew her biological mother, at least a little. She read about her in history books, heard about her from the people close to her. But her mother didn’t know her at all.

Would she be satisfied with her? Would she find her too small, too weak? Midwife assured her that it was not the case, and she wasn’t one to sugarcoat things but…

In many ways, Hornet knew she was more a princess of Hallownest that Deepnest. She grew up in her father’s palace and didn’t even set foot in Deepnest until she was four! And sure, she knew the country’s traditions and the population always liked her, especially since she crushed the rebellion, but she always felt as if she was a stranger in what should have been her homeland.

And with how most of the Hallownestian nobility treated her, she felt… Without a country. Like she didn’t belong anywhere. And maybe that was just because of her godly heritage, Kahon and Vertan were a bit like that, too. But her sisters clearly belonged to Hallownest, and she wanted to be like that with Deepnest, but she felt like she couldn’t.

Before, she fled both countries whenever she could, going on diplomatic missions to the hive or volunteering to guard the borders, a duty that every guard considered a chore.

But with her mother’s return coming up, she had spent the last two months touring Deepnest, to be as ready as possible when she finally met her. And now, she was waiting before her bed. She had been waiting for hours for a sign of movement.

And finally, one of her mother’s legs moved, for the first time in ten years. She bowed, along with the rest of the crowd. Soon, her mother was up.

“It seems that my kingdom survived my absence. I assume my authority is still in place?”

“Yes, my queen.”

“Hum. And who is the young weaver, standing in the middle of my most trusted advisors?”

Hornet was shocked that her mother did not recognize her at all, but, when she thought about it, it made sense. The two spiders looked very different, and the princess took much more from her father.

“It is your daughter, your majesty.”

“Really? Tell me, Hornet, how old are you?”

These were the first words her mother addressed to her. A technical question. It made sense, really, she shouldn’t have been expecting something different.

“It had been exactly nine years, ten months and thirteen days since my birth and your sealing.”

“I see. Is your growth over?”

“Yes, I had my last molt.”

“That damn wyrm! He’ll pay for the eternal flaw he transmitted to my lineage.”

Out of all the things that her mother could have said, the last she expected was complaining about her height.

“Well, if I am to rule this land once more, I must now of its current state. Would you accept to come with me on a tour of my kingdom, so I can learn what happened to my kingdom and my daughter at once?”

“Of course, your majesty.”

“Please, call me mother.”

“I… Of course, mother.”

“And after that, we’ll go visit your father. Maybe for your birthday? He certainly wouldn’t be able to deny me access on this occasion. I am oh so curious to learn how his kingdom is doing. And your siblings too, of course.”

So far, no remarks have been made about Hornet’s manners or education. She hoped it would remain this way.

*****

In a tank of acid, a jellyfish floated. For years, she had been kept half out of this world, by an additional seal of her conception. Many insisted that it was unnecessary and would only complicate the process of waking her up, but she insisted.

According to her friends, she probably just really wanted to try if it worked. It did, and thankfully, her assistants were able to undo it as easily. After ten years of absence of their head researcher, the archives were much more orderly than ever before. But as Monomon would inevitably get interested in hundreds of different things, this would not last. Well, at least, thanks to the investments the king had made in the last decade, they now had a more performant information storage system, that should take a little longer for her to overwhelm. But no one was having illusions about the fact that it would happen.

Suddenly, a tentacle hit the glass of the tube. Three archivists rushed to open the lid, and Monomon came out floating.

“How long has it been since the sealing?”

“Ten years.”

“Exactly?”

“No, it has actually been nine years, ten months and…”

“Damnit! I lost my bet! And so close, too. Well, anyway, have you guys been doing alright? Any interesting breakthroughs?”

The newest hires were taken aback by the Teacher’s behavior. It’s not like they weren’t warned, but it’s hard to believe it before you see it for yourself.

“We developed some new calculators, and a new data storage system. Really though, we were at a bit of a roadblock with your absence.” admitted Quirell.

“Well then, let’s not wait any longer. Is my work still where I left it?”

“Well, it has been ten years, and we switched our data storage system, so no.”

“What? Well, I suppose I should get some news about the outside world before going back to work.”

*****

This was fine. The spire was in order, his paperwork was as done as it could be, the watcher knights were all here, and he had checked three times which documents Lurien would see after awaking. His time as watcher would leave no mark on the spire or the history books, except maybe as a footnote, and it was very well like this.

For the past decade, he had been crushed under the legacy of his predecessor. How could he do so much, he was just a bug like him! But while Avelo was struggling with running the city, Lurien could also be the second in command of the kingdom, and still found time to perform the watcher’s original duty: observing the city. Not only that, but he painted it, too! And he was talented. In Hallownest, only portraits were popular, but Lurien was so good at capturing the soul of the landscape without falling into excessive realism… He could be the spearhead of his own movement.

To put it simply, he was superior to Avelo in every way, and everyone was eager to get him back in the job. It stung, but the current Watcher couldn’t disagree. He was worse.

And that wasn’t even counting the…

“What day is it?”

“Ah! Uh, the 6^th of blackmonth, sir Lurien.”

The dreamer had not moved.

“And who are you?”

“The current Watcher, Avelo.”

“Avelo, the third son of House Celviak, who finished first of the royal academy of administration in 377?”

“Yes.”

Lurien finally got up and stared at him. After an agonizing minute where he couldn’t tell what the bug in front of him was thinking, said bug finally said:

“You may leave. I’ll handle the rest myself.”

“I am, uh, technically still the Watcher for around five months?”

“I’m sure people won’t be too attached to that technicality. If you would please leave. Oh, is my butler around somewhere? I need to organize a meeting with the watcher knights.”

He wasn’t talking to him anymore. That was good enough of a hint for Avelo. As he took the elevator to the bottom of the spire, he had the weird feeling that his entire career had been in the shadow of his superiors, and yet he felt better than them all. But when he finally reached the top, he realized how much farther beyond his predecessor.

He realized how much regular bugs were bellow geniuses, and he could imagine how low geniuses were compared to gods. And that made him desperate to close the gap, and he made mistakes pursuing this goal. But that was behind him. The consequences, however, might still reach him.

He wasn’t out of the woods just yet. Not quite.

Chapter Text

The Pale King had proclaimed that the celebration for the victory over the infection would wait for the tenth anniversary of the sealing, to give the Dreamers, the stars of the show, time to adapt to the current days. He was currently quite happy with this decision, because it gave him time to inspect the pure vessel immediately.

The thing was laid down on a table, looking ready for a vivisection. But, of course, it was much more valuable alive. Given its current state, that would mean healing it. Soul would probably do. The fact that it would allow him good insight of the inner workings of the creature…

Could it even be considered a creature?

It looked like a creature, so the appellation would have to do, even if it had no soul. He started by pulling off the clothes its creator had put on it, carefully setting them aside. They were full of information, too.

Now the creature was laid bare before him, he could see the true extent of the damage. Its flesh, usually a light pink, had turned in many places to a spectrum going from red to blue through a wide variety of purples. The mark of the chains was still visible, and at the bottom of the cavities, its not-shell at turned white, in stark contrast to the color surrounding it. That was not to mention the open wounds.

But as a god of mind, soul healing was one of his specialties. So, confident, he laid his hands on its chest, and the magical fluid rushed into the strange body, relaying him all kind of information. He was starting to get a true appreciation for the thing’s conception.

Despite lacking a shell, it still had something to maintain its structure, an “endoskeleton” of sorts. And it was a work of art. Made of something resembling stone, but still distinctly alive, it was a solid frame, likely capable of bearing several times the creature’s weight.

It was made of an impressive number of pieces, kept together by resistant but flexible tendons, reminiscent of a puppet with its strings, but where the puppet was controlled by muscles laid on its surface. It was quite literally the case, now that he knew what to look for, he could see the shape of some muscles through the membrane enveloping the creature.

He could also see its blood vessels, some of them, at least. The organic pipework was quite noticeable on the thing’s forearms, but deeper in the organism, it converged to a quite frankly over-engineered heart with four cavities. Most of the blood was actually sent to a pair of organs he couldn’t identify, that were filling and emptying with air?

It was only then that he came to a shocking realization: that thing had no air ducts! How did it get air to its organs? He took a closer look at those strange baggy organs. The breath that came out was full of water vaper, which was reminding him of a pointless gadget called “steam engine”. That was definitely consistent with the amount of heat the creature was emitting! Frankly, he was shocked at not having found an actual fire in there.

The digestive system was aberrant, too. Every bug either turned food into mush in their stomach by a mechanical process, or, in the case of spiders, used a venom to liquify it.

But that thing had acid strong enough to dissolve meat in its stomach, at all times! How was it not digesting itself? And its eyes, oh, its eyes. These were not natural, that’s for sure. Nature did not do lenses to project a clear image a screen, complete with an iris to deal with variable luminosity, and depth of field adjustment!

Everywhere he looked, he could see such aberrations. Its mouth, filled with organic rocks, was strong enough to crush a bug’s shell. Its outer layer was not just a wonderfully elastic and waterproof textile, but also capable of secreting a liquid for temperature regulation. And its nervous system. Its nervous system.

That was too much. He couldn’t handle his disgust. Or was it horror? Whoever had created that thing had twisted nature way too far. This was an abomination that could never have occurred naturally. But could it have been created artificially?

An army of engineers working a million years could have maybe conceived this body, if it weren’t for its nervous system. A monster, a hundred times too big. A thousand more neurons, a million more connections than a regular bug. Was that what was needed to process information without a mind?

He suddenly remembered a detail, the huge nerve going through an articulated shell of dozens of pieces, which could bend in any direction in spite of its rigid material. It reminded him of something.

He broke off many of the seals still on the creature, leaving just enough to keep it asleep. It was fully healed.

“Good night, whatever you are.”

Exiting his workshop, he took a detour by the library, to take a copy of the encyclopedia of creature of the above and underworlds. The original was a millennia old treasure. If any book had answers, it would be this one.

He then entered the royal bedroom, where his wife was already in bed. It was quite late, now that he thought about it.

“What took you so long?”

“The pure vessel. It is fascinating, but to be honest, kind of off-putting.”

The sheer idea that life can be bent to such an extent is terrifying.

“I also took this book, to try to find more information.”

“Well, do try to not be too long. You had a big day, and if you cheat sleep too much, nothing good will come of it. Besides, it is perfectly safe now.”

“Yes, I promise.”

To his surprise, he kept this promise. He soon found what he was looking for. The pure vessel displayed all the characteristics of class of entities called vertebrate. There was just one issue. Vertebrates were systematically higher beings. This left two options: either it was the flesh of a god, reanimated without soul through some strange ritual… Or a soulless god.

This mystery was getting more and more unnerving. But that was a problem for another day. For now, he could drift into sleep, with the knowledge that no goddess of light could do anything to him there.

Early in the morning, when he was reaching that period of sleep where dreams thrive, he heard a voice. He knew, deep inside himself, that despite being a dream, it was real, and not a fantasy of his mind. This voice was feminine and beautiful, it felt like honey and warmth.

“I am the Radiance, goddess of dreams. If you hear this message, that means I am dead. But my crown is out, somewhere in this realm, and whoever finds it shall be crowned god of dreams in my place. Do not despair, people of Hallownest, for even the lowliest of you could find salvation through ascension. You all have a chance of success, if you simply follow your dream.”

He woke up suddenly.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Chapter Text

This morning, the kingdom of Hallownest was in a state of effervescence never seen before. As the population woke up, one after the other, one question was on everyone’s mind: was it true? Was the Dream Crown really out there, ripe for the picking? Could anyone ascend to godhood?

Most of the population was drooling at the idea of reaching godhood, but a few were concerned with the consequences that this hunt would have on the kingdom. The king was among those ones.

For the second time in a short time, the royal council was summoned. This time, even though Monomon and Lurien were awake, they were not invited, as the king didn’t wish to trouble them on their first day back. For the same reason, Hornet was left with her mother.

Lurien, of course, came anyway.

“Apologies, Pale Council Member. I came as fast as I could.”

“That is alright, Lurien, we didn’t even start. In fact, how did you know there was a meeting to begin with?”

“Well, once I had checked that all my subordinates have had the same dream as me, I knew the situation was dire. So, I figured you would like me by your side.”

“Your deduction is correct. As I was saying, our priority is to discourage people from pursuing the Dream Crown.”

“Would that be really necessary, father? I defeated the Radiance easily, and given her successor would have paid no price for their apotheosis, they would be even weaker. Besides, if no law-abiding citizen tries to get their hands on it, that guarantees it will go to a criminal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Kahon. I’m ready to bet that the way to reach the crown is very arduous, and as such counts as a hefty price. And even if it is not the case, there’s always the possibility the crown is rigged, to, for example, destroy the mind of the one who find it, turning it into a mindless force of destruction.”

“Very well, but as I said, forbidding people to search for the crown will not stop everyone. It will be found eventually.”

“Of course, but that’s a problem for later.”

“If I may suggest, we could search for it ourselves.” Offered Achela.

“Did you not listen? The person who gets the crown might lose their mind!”

“And I’m pretty sure someone who falls into the void is supposed to die, yet you survived. Godlings are more resistant to that kind of transformation. Besides, dreams have proven to be the weak point of our family. One of us becoming their god would fill that hole in our defense.”

“And who should pursue that role?”

“Father! Don’t tell me you’re considering it!”

“Of course not. I have already chosen in favor.”

“But…”

“Let’s bring that issue to vote. All in favor of pursuing the Dream Crown for a child of the royal family?”

Achela, the king and Lurien raised their hand immediately. Kahon, Hamelia and the queen looked firmly opposed. After a few seconds of consideration, Vertan lifted his arm timidly.

“Very well. I suppose, Hamelia, that you are not interested in taking the crown?”

“Of course not! Beyond the risk of losing my mind, which you seem unexplainably insensitive to, what would I do with dreams? I prefer to wait to ascend naturally.”

“Hum. And I don’t see Hornet being interested in that offer. That leaves two candidates.”

“I suggest that you focus on helping Achela, while I search by my own means. After all, exploring different ways should maximize our chances of success.”, offered Vertan.

“Very well. We should also prepare in case we lose the race. Who are the most likely winers outside of us?”

“The seer of the moth tribe?”

“She’s the mortal closest related to the dream realm, but I don’t think she’ll pursue it.”

“I don’t think he’ll defy your orders, but the Soul Master might be powerful enough to reach it.”

“You bring an interesting point, Lurien. Although I think power is a minor concern compared to knowledge in this race, he definitely has a lot of both.”

“What about bugs outside the kingdom?”

“The mantises have nothing but contempt for dreams, and I think Deepnest will follow our advice. I can’t be sure about the Hive, but they’re not exactly the enterprising kind.”

“So, we have no good candidates for a rival?”

“What about the pure vessel?” suggested the White Lady. “If I understood correctly what you were mumbling in your sleep, they’re somewhat of a higher being.”

“The pure vessel! They are no longer fed by soul! I need to check on them now!”

With that, the king fled the council room, leaving the other members in a state of incredulity.

“I’m going to be honest; I see why I wasn’t invited. I didn’t understand half of what was going on. But at least we have a plan of action: search the crown for the princess, while we discourage the population from doing so.”

“Yes, but how will we convince the population?”

“By telling the truth. People are not likely to search for something created by the source of the infection, and that might make them lose their mind. I believe the memory of the infection should still be rather fresh, no?”

*****

“My lord, we just received an official missive from the Palace. They expressly forbid anyone from searching for the Dream Crown.”

A grin formed on the face of the Soul Master.

“Perfect. If they don’t want people to find it, it means it’s powerful. And if these imbeciles follow the orders of the king, then we won’t even have competition. I thought that the return of Lurien would be a disaster, but with this new development, ascension is closer than I thought. Anselm?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Reiterate our offer to the Colosseum, maybe make a few more concessions. We really need that source of soul now.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“And try to contact the moth tribe discreetly. We need everything we can about the dream realm.”

Chapter Text

The King was panicked. As he entered his workshop, he felt trapped between two issues that couldn’t wait. The longer he postponed taking of the ex-vessel, the more it would cause problems. The longer he took to answer the Radiance’s final blow, the more chaos it would create.

Truly, he wanted no more than to rest. With the infection, he had been working tirelessly for two decades. Before that, he was busy administering his kingdom, which was growing exponentially, and as such was exponentially harder to manage. But vacations would still have to wait, it would seem.

Well, he had made a choice. The vertebrate was the most urgent issue. He just had to wake it up and figure out its maintenance and purpose. Such a powerful construct (for surely, it couldn’t be an actual higher being) would be very useful.

Probably.

As he reached the table on which it laid, he hesitated. It looked so peaceful, maybe it would not react kindly to being woken up. He considered it, once again. That thing was 180 centimeters tall, at most. He would have no problem overpowering it physically, if need be. He elected to simply go for it and dissipated the final seal from the creature’s body.

He expected it to wake up instantly, but the creature was still deep in slumber. He pondered about pushing it further, when it rubbed its eyes, and raised from the table.

It opened its eyes, and the king was petrified. He felt as if the lenses adjusted to dig into his flesh, but realized it was its expression of confusion.

It stood still for a few seconds, as if its brain was unable to process the situation, before screaming. It curled on itself, trying to hide his groin from the king. This behavior was more like a scared animal than an automaton.

Instinctively, the Pale King talked to him in a soft voice: “Calm down, I’m not here to hurt you.” It couldn’t understand, of course, but he hoped the intonation would get the point across. Its reaction, however, was horrifying in its implications.

“Vous parlez français? Do you speak English? Hablas español?”

The language was unidentifiable, in fact it sounded like several languages. The intonation was strange, and the sounds weirdly restricted. But this was undoubtably speech. And if the pure vessel could speak, then it was not an object, nor an animal.

It was a person. It was a person. He had locked up a hostile goddess inside an unwilling person for ten years. He had chained up a person for what could be eternity. He had stolen a person from their family/creator (he still thought they were artificial, in spite of what he had learned).

But if they were capable of speech, then perhaps he could use the same trick he had on the first denizens of Hallownest, teaching them a language in a blink of an eye. Maybe it wouldn’t work because of their lack of mind, but the dream seals had worked. It was worth a shot.

“Ouch!” They looked like their face was decomposing. “How did you do that? Where am I? Who are you? Why am I naked?”

“Calm down please. One question at a time.”

“Alright. Where am I?”

“The white palace. It is the seat of power of the kingdom of Hallownest.”

“So, I’m not on Earth?”

“What? Of course you are on Earth!”

“Which continent?”

“What do you mean, ‘which continent’? There’s only one.”

“So, either you are unaware of geography, or we both called our worlds Earth. Next question, why am I naked and could I please have some clothes?”

“I took the liberty of taking your clothes off to heal you. They were in a disastrous state anyway. I would be happy to provide you with clothes in the future.”

“Can’t you do it now?”

They were more preoccupied with getting clothes than with the fact they had been injured. Curious.

“Is being naked so problematic?”

“In my culture, being naked in the presence of a stranger is among the most embarrassing situation possible.”

“I apologize, I didn’t know.”

He went to grab a sheet of silk nearby. It was meant for schematics, but it would probably work. He used that time to process what he had learned. This person was very composed and analytical, despite the extraordinarily stressful situation of finding yourself in an unknown place. What really struck him, though, was their voice. It was alien, undoubtedly, but it was also beautiful.

 It felt thick and warm like honey, the vowels melting and deforming in their mouth, while the consonants were subtly softened, and the klicks sounded so different, yet were so recognizable. It was off-putting, uncanny, how out of this world it felt. And in a way, it literally was! This thing came from a different Earth, one with several continents.

“Thank you. Now, why am I here?”

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed he had completed the task he set out to do.

“I brought you here for a specific purpose…”

Gods no. This was going to be a) extremely awkward or b) the thing that made them try to kill him.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Uh, nothing! You already completed it in your, uhm, sleep. But I would be happy to house you for as long as you need. Consider it a … thank you.”

Nailed it.

“What did you use me for?”

“That was three questions already. Now it’s my turn.”

He felt a little bad for denying them information, especially by adding in a rule in the middle of the exchange, but they didn’t argue.

“How where you created?”

They laughed. It was a booming laugh, which radiated genuine amusement and joy. The king supposed it was fair, his question would appear pretty silly.

“Well, you see, when a man and a woman love each other very much…”

“You were conceived by sex?”

“Well, yes, my species can’t reproduce asexually. Some bugs from my planet can, though, so I see where your question comes from.”

“But where did your species originate?”

“It evolved naturally from primitive single-celled organisms over the course of billions of years, through a process of natural selection. As to where the first organisms came from, we don’t know. That was three questions, my turn. Who are you?”

That last answer raised a million questions. Single-celled? They knew about cells? And billions of years? How did they know what happened billions of years ago? Even if single-celled organisms kept archives, which the king was pretty sure they didn’t, they couldn’t have survived that long.

“I am the Pale King, god of mind, soul and knowledge, and the ruler of Hallownest.”

The creature flinched.

“When you say ‘god’, you mean immortal embodiment of a concept?”

“Well, I am technically mortal, and it’s not so much that I embody a concept, and more have great control over it, but yes.”

“Last question, can we please sort out where I can live, how I can eat, real clothes and, hum, how I can eliminate organic wastes from my body? That last one is quite pressing.”

“If you are familiar with the concept of toilets, there are some right here. And I will make arrangements for your living quarters.”

The king was kind of happy to stop there, even if he had many questions still, because he felt the need to analyze what he had learned.

One: the pure vessel was a person, with thinking capabilities on par with one of his subjects at the very least.

Two: their questions were focused on sorting out their immediate problems. They had shown no curiosity about Hallownest, except what they considered a god. Which led naturally to:

Three: they were a naturally occurring vertebrate, with blood. Basically, they were guaranteed to be a higher being. However, the standards for what counted as a god were higher where they came from, so they probably didn’t consider themselves a god.

Four: they came from another world, as technologically advanced as Hallownest if not more. Which meant they could have a lot of knowledge about unknown technology. It seemed like his bet had been successful: this was the most urgent issue.

Chapter Text

The Pale King rarely visited his warden. Ever since the honestly unbelievable mistake he had made, he had become even more averse to the idea of entering his dungeon. So, it came as a bit of a surprise when he cheerfully entered the warden’s office and asked to visit “the most spacious and nicest cells possible.”

He ended up choosing a multiple bed cell on the top floor, the low security area, which was basically always empty, because the queen insisted that the people who were sent there only needed a little guidance and pardoned them. Given how surprisingly efficient getting scolded by a goddess was to lower recidivism, nobody complained.

The guards of this area where, supposedly, “nothing ever happens” then watched in disbelief as a cohort of menderbugs entered the cell with all their materials. They tore the bars from the windows, replaced them with curtains, and changed the door to be fully opaque. They dismantled the toilet, replacing it with a full, albeit small, bathroom. Then they brought in an assortment of tiny furniture.

Nothing was missing: a bed, a desk, several chairs and a couch, a table, a nightstand, and various cupboards, drawers and wardrobes. In the end, the place looked more like a miniature apartment than a prison. The Pale King looked satisfied. The dungeon was barely used anyway, and far from the curious crowd, the perfect place to hide his secret guest. He just needed a couple servants he could trust to be silent, and everything would be fine.

*****

Everything will be fine. He wasn’t angry, his speaking just sounds like that. Think of it like German, it can sound aggressive when they get enthusiastic.

For the last hour, Marc had tried to reassure himself. After all, not all hope was lost: the god didn’t seem to notice how fucking terrified he was and was nothing if not a good host.

He needs me in a good state.

He once again spun what he had learned in his head, trying to distract himself from the fact that the meat he was chewing was most likely a bug. This was a world populated by bugs, from several species, were gods existed and artificial people where common enough that it was reasonable to wonder if he was one. It was a god damn fantasy land. But he knew better than to assume it was a fairy tale.

He had been brought here for a reason. The king claimed he had fulfilled that mission in his sleep, that it had injured him, and that he had been striped naked in order to be healed. That was suspicious as hell, but he couldn’t figure out what would motivate these acts. He was lacking information.

He did learn something important, though: debts were an important thing in this culture, and the king acted like he owed one to him. But could he really be trusted? He was a god king, about as untouchable as it got. He could probably order his execution, and no one would even flinch.

Besides, Marc knew no one, and had nothing. He was in the middle of the king’s palace. The Pale King was the only master of his destiny, and he hated it. He had never felt so powerless before, and he realized how horrible a feeling it was.

But he wanted to live, and so he would play along. And maybe he would meet other people, and acquire more information, and figure out what the king wanted from him, and then maybe, just maybe, this would not end horrifyingly for him.

The other good news was that the king seemed open to exchanging information and tended to tell more than he thought without realizing. This was the one advantage he had in this situation, and he was going to use it to its fullest!

Exactly when he took this decision, the Pale king entered the room.

“Ah, did you enjoy the meal, pu… Actually, how should I call you? I know! Unforeseen, because I didn’t foresee you being, well…”

There was no way the king would just let that split, it had to be a trick, to make him overconfident. Thankfully, the king was a terrible liar.

Or an excellent one, whispered a voice in the back of his mind.

“It was excellent, your majesty. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Please, it is nothing. Hallownest will never be able to repay you for your services.”

Yeah, sure.

“Ho, I have clothes right here, and your room is ready. If you would dress up, I’ll lead you to it.”

He inspected the “clothes”. It was a white cloak that would cover him entirely, and a mask of white wood. It seemed even a god king had secrets to conceal, and he was among them. He put them on. It was really awkward not having underwear, but at least the cloak was comfortable.

He was then led by the king through what felt like kilometers of corridors, trying to see as much as possible, while being thankful for the lower gravity at every flight of stairs. The white palace surely deserved its name, being about as colorful as a psychological torture chamber.

After a trek in which they encountered suspiciously few people, all of them being bugs and about half of them naked.

Where you come from, all bugs are naked. This is not awkward, this is not weird, it’s just a different culture.

Finaly, they reached what looked like a dungeon.

About as subtle in his intention as a tiger before its prey.

“I realize that it may seem strange, but you’ll be safe from curious onlookers here. And your room should be more comfortable than a cell.”

When he reached the door, he had to agree that the cage was gilded. The furniture was even adapted to his size, which he suspected was below average here. At first, he thought the king’s impressive stature was due to his godly status, then he saw the guards. Then he realized what an impressive stature was. Some were as tall as a damn house!

“So, now that your situation has been sorted out, how about we continue our game of questions?”

“I have a suggestion, majesty, but for it I would need to be able to read and write in Hallownestian.”

“I’m afraid that would only work if the individual already knew how to write another language.”

“That is my case.”

“Oh, of course! With the knowledge you displayed about the origins of your species, you must be a scholar.”

I suppose you could say that. Studying to become one, anyway.

The king snaped his fingers.

“Ouch! Why does it have to hurt!”

“I am trying my best to be gentle but injecting a whole writing system inside a m… brain is delicate work.”

“In any case, do you have anything I could write on? It should only take a moment.”

“Of course, there are scrolls of silk parchment right here.”

Silk parchment? That sounds expensive. Maybe I will be able to trade technologies with the inhabitants of this world if I escape. Making paper is not that hard and would be very profitable.

Carefully, using a quilt for the first time in his life, he composed the series of questions he would need to answer. It was an interesting exercise, asking about what interested him, while avoiding reviling too much, with the same questions.

He considered just lying for a moment but decided not to. First of all, he was unsure if the king had ways to verify his claims. Second, if he tried weaving a coherent picture of a fake reality, he would eventually make a mistake. Third, with a little luck, the laws of physics were the same in this world, just with magic added to the mix. The fact that he was alive and not a soup of elementary particles right now supported that hypothesis. But if that was the case, then the technology he presented needed to be plausible, and what was more plausible than what truly existed?

*****

The Unforeseen, as he had named them, finally lifted their head for their intense concentration. In spite of their efforts, the handwriting was shaky and uneven.  They had looked uncomfortable even holding the quill. Maybe people were still used to painting on stone where they came from.

“Here is my offer, majesty. A perfectly balanced exchange of information. We will both answer the same list of questions, and then exchange our parchments when we’re done.”

“An interesting offer. It may be more effective than a simple discussion, since we won’t get sidetracked. Let me see.”

Truthfully, he found the idea strange, but who was he to contradict his guest?

The king sat awkwardly on the couch and took a look at the list of questions. It was really uncomfortable. At least the furniture was still usable for him.

What is the name of your species?

A straightforward question, but understandable. He did note the Unforeseen never used the common term “race”, but always the academic term. He would have to ask about that.

He carefully wrote “wyrm”.

How old is your civilization (please precise what event you consider marks the emergence of civilization)

Interesting. If the creature had asked about his kingdom, the answer would be simple, but what was considered his civilization? Eventually, he settled on the largest definition, that being the birth of the first kingdom.

“143 456 years old, beginning with the founding of the kingdom of spring, the first major political entity.”

Name three technological achievements of your civilization that you are proud of.

Very interesting. It seemed the questions were not only trying to acquire information on his world but also his worldview. This one, for example, not only asked what his people were capable of, but also what he considered a commendable goal.

After much thinking, he wrote:

“The Silver city, capital of my kingdom. A megalopolis of 900 000 inhabitants, made of metal and glass, with spires reaching as high as a kilometer.”

“The Tram network, a complex arrangement of metal roads and carriages, spanning the entirety of Hallownest (around a hundred kilometers in width).”

“The Pure Vessel plan, a complex operation of seals and soul manipulation used to eliminate a disease known as the infection.”

How you describe your current position in the history of your civilization.

It was a weird question, but he was glad it was asked. It was without a doubt his greatest achievement. He had defeated the vicissitudes of time, that had destroyed all the other kingdoms, and, even if it still wasn’t all over, he could write without shame:

“The epilogue”

It was the last question .The Unforeseen had finished, too.

“Shall we trade answers?”

He eagerly accepted.

He started with the answer to the last question, as he was really curious about what the expected answer was.

“The tipping point between a dream, and many nightmares.”

He felt a little disappointed. While the formulation was interesting, it just meant: “things can go well or wrong.” This could be applied to basically any period of history!

But then, his answer could be interpreted as “many things happened before”, which was also always true. He understood that this question was not about history at all, it was about how he saw the world.

He had answered that he saw the world as over, that he believed the most interesting was behind them. On the contrary, the Unforeseen thought the future still held many uncertainties, and many difficulties to triumph off, but could still be bright.

He then read the remaining answers in the intended order.

“My species is called Human.”

Not very interesting, but good to know.

“Our civilization started around twelve thousand years ago, with the invention of agriculture.”

That was a really low bar for what counted as civilization. But then again, it only had been crossed recently. Human civilization was less developed than the one from Earth (even if they called their world the same name). His guest had not seemed particularly uncomfortable with the technology of the palace, though. Well, plumbing wasn’t that hard to figure out, even for a primitive civilization.

“The first technological achievements I am the proudest of are the eradication of smallpox (a deadly disease) through vaccination, the process of training the immune system against a specific disease.”

Interesting. The fight against illnesses was universal, it seemed. Though vaccination sounded much simpler than the pure vessel plan. The divinity humans had angered was perhaps less insane than the Radiance.

“The second is the internet, a network allowing most of my world’s population to communicate instantly. The third is the Apollo program, which sent several explorers to the Moon.”

WHAT?

Chapter Text

The Pale King stared in disbelief at the parchment before him. The Unforeseen was in the same state of shock.

“I have so many questions.”

“So do I.”

“What do you mean the ‘epilogue’? A ‘megalopolis’ of 900 000 inhabitants? Is this a post-apocalyptic world?”

“I suppose, in a sense. How did you go to the moon? Teleportation costs scale with distance, the amount of soul required would be…”

“Teleportation? Soul? Hum. It would seem we could spend hours discussing our respective worlds, and still not understand each other. And I don’t suppose you have hours to lose, busy as a king is.”

“You’re right, in fact I have something important to do right now.”

“I propose that you go back to your duties, and send me a few books about your civilization’s history, culture, science, what I need to get a good idea of how it works. Meanwhile, I will try to write a comprehensive summary of my civilization, and I’ll give it to you when it’s finished.”

“That sounds like the best option, yes. I’ll send a few servants to take care of you, and you’re free to request any book from my personal library. I will try to see you again tomorrow, but no guarantees.”

And with that, he left the human to their devices.

*****

Marc had decided that writing a summary of human civilization’s progress in chronological order was the best way to go about his task. Currently, he was explaining what he could remember of the transition from the high Middle Ages to the renaissance.

He felt a little uncomfortable writing such a western-centric version of history and did his best to include the achievements of other regions of the world, but the truth was he simply didn’t know them as well as the others. He wasn’t a historian either, and most of what he had were his memories from high school. He planned to be very clear about this when he delivered the manuscript.

He heard knocking on the door. Grateful at the occasion to catch a break, he gladly answered:

“You can enter.”

A retainer entered the room, his arms full of massive books. Well, massive for marc, at least, they were pretty proportionate for the retainer, who stood at around 3 meters.

“Oh, apologies. The king had told me he had a special guest, but he did not mention you were a child.”

He had a feeling that many people were going to make that mistake.

“He didn’t because I am not.”

“Really? Well then, you’re the smallest adult I’ve ever seen. Hum, with all due respect… How should I call you?”

“Mister will do fine.”

“Well, mister, where should I put these books?”

“The empty bookshelves, I suppose. I’ll use them soon enough.”

The bug obliged, but then he just kept standing next to the bookshelf.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Your next orders, mister.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I’ve not been clear enough: I have been assigned to your service for the foreseeable future. As such, I’m supposed to be available to you at all times.

“Really? Well, in that case, I have two orders for you: One, what is your name?”

“Arhtal, mister.”

“Well, Arthal, when diner will be ready, could you please bring me something to eat here?”

“Of course, mister. And in the meantime?”

“Go live your life, I suppose.”

“But, mister…”

“It’s an order.”

“Of course, mister. Thank you, mister.”

“And stop calling me ‘mister’ so much, please.”

“Of course, m… Of course.”

With that, he was free to dive into the secrets of bug civilization.

After a few hours or so, he had a comprehensive overview of their history.

In the beginning, there were gods, who created mindless bugs, and through their “devotion” to the natural world around them, mindless bugs created more gods. It’s not exactly clear how this cycle began, as none of the first gods were still around by the time of the first written records, but the number of gods and mortals grew exponentially in that first stage, and life expanded over this Earth’s single continent.

Until there was no more land to expand to. A few adventurous water gods tried expanding into the ocean, with limited success. But for all the other gods, the only way was war. When a young god emerged, their only option was stealing territory from an already established god. And those would in turn try to crush contenders before they could become a threat. And since you needed more power to do that, soon, even gods with established territories were attacking their neighbors.

 This kickstarted an arms race, which culminated with an impressive innovation: giving minds to mortals. This is how the first civilizations emerged, allowing the population to explode, especially given that no natural diseases existed, and that agriculture was so much more efficient with fertility gods around.

The world strived, with gods creating different kingdoms specialized in different domains. Alliances emerged, then international organizations regulated this new, almost unified world. Science progressed, although slower than for humanity, since it wasn’t a vital necessity. In fact, the records painted this era as an Earthly paradise of sorts, were most mortals only had to be alive and worship to be of value to gods, and in turns gods took care of them.

To Marc, this did not seem that much of a utopia, since most people were content with never doing anything in their life, not art, science, or philosophy, not even leisure. Bug minds had not evolved, after all, they had been created, and if the creator wanted them more or less lobotomized from birth, that was an option. Thankfully it seemed Hallownest was not that kind of kingdom.

But all good things come to an end, and eventually the population growth hit a ceiling again, while the number of gods kept rising. The international community crumbled into several alliances that turned to war for land and worshipers. Soon, hate was victorious, with many weaker gods turning to a scorched earth strategy, burning, poisoning, or freezing their kingdoms rather than let their enemies have it. The use of volcanic eruptions in particular was devastating, covering the world in a cloud of ash, killing every plant that was not protected by a fertility god.

As supply chains collapsed, only kingdoms ruled by a fertility god could still feed their population, but without the manufacturing capabilities of their neighbors, their technological level went from the early eighteenth century back to the neolithic.

It was in this dying world that Hallownest was established, a kingdom more advanced than any before it, populated with smart, industrious bugs, and capable of maintaining their technological society running in complete autarky.

He was unsure of how biased his sources were, but the history of this world sounded pretty grim. Then again, looking at human history, the number of conflicts motivated by personal greed, ideology, faith or simply pure hate was very high, and they had never had a period of peace comparable to the bugs. The only difference was that, ultimately, humans had decided to not use their world destroying weapons, while gods did.

As he was thinking about how to draw comparisons between the history of both Earths, he heard knocking on the door again.

“Lord Unforeseen? I have brought you dinner, as you asked.”

“Thank you, Arthal. But please don’t call me lord, it’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? You had a word dedicated to you! A part of the dictionary will forever be yours! And you think calling you lord is too pompous?”

“My title only comes from my strange circumstances, and I assure you that beyond that I am a common bug in any way that matters. Not a single drop of noble hemolymph flows in my veins.”

Not a single drop of hemolymph at all.

He had learned of the importance of the distinction between that fluid and blood, and while he doubted his blood had any kind of supernatural properties, considering the king claimed he had been injured in his sleep, and was of great use to the kingdom during that time, he had a pretty good idea of why he was brought here.

I knew I couldn’t trust him. But by giving me access to that information, he made a grave mistake. Now, the playing field is a little more even.