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You see her for the first time out of the corner of your eye. Your head snaps up, the bright splash of red demanding your attention. It does not get it. Instead you find yourself transfixed by her pale mask.

Your first thought, is that you are hungry.

Your second thought, is that she's seen you.

She stares at you for a very long moment. You stay still. You do not know why. Then she turns, and she runs. Darting away into the bushes.

In the moment, you are consumed, overwhelmed. Something drives your claws forward, drives you to chase after her with a fervor you rarely experience. You are hungry most of the time. It is almost never this strong. The path winds, but you find your way through it, eyes searching, hunting, trying to catch a glimpse of that red cloak again. You have to find her. You Need To Find Her.

Again you spot her, just a flash of red, as she's running. You give chase, trying to stay hidden as you do. Barely paying any mind to the other creatures trying to slow you down. They aren't worth the swing of your nail it takes to dispatch them. They are only distractions.

Another flash. You've gained little ground, but you also haven't lost much. The cave will end before either of you give out. Of that much you are certain.

It is not long before you are proven correct. She is down in a pit. She is cornered. Something deep and old inside of you is starving. Without a second thought, you leap into the pit. Her gaze snaps to you. A single motion and her nail- no. She wields a needle. Not a nail. How strange. You have only a moment to consider it's fine edge.

And then. She speaks. Her voice is horse and brittle from disuse, it cracks and strains. But her tone is fierce and firm.

"Come no closer, ghost."

Ghost? It's a strange thing to call you. You do not mind it though.

"I've seen you, creeping through the undergrowth, stalking me."

Her voice is little more than a rasp, a cold bitter rasp. She's still speaking, but very suddenly you aren't listening. You've only just realized what this must look like. You chased her. You cornered her. Your nail is drawn

You wish you had a voice, so you could try to speak, to defend yourself. You didn't mean to scare her! You only meant- You do not know. The hunger that drove you has vanished. Evaporated at the sound of her voice. You do not know why it consumed you like that. You do not know why it left. You do not know if it will return.

Maybe it is for the best you have no voice. You do not think she would find your lack of explanation for your behavior very reassuring. You certainly don't take any comfort in it.

Her needle lashes out, and you barely catch it with your nail. This close you can see her gaze is sharp and fierce. You don't want to fight her. You understand that you must, now that you've chased her into a corner with your nail at the ready.

You meet her blows. You dodge her lashing thread. You strike back, however reluctantly. You are careful with your strikes, you do not aim any blows at her mask. She does not offer you the same mercy. You are annoyed, but it is difficult to place the blame on her for not holding back.

The fight becomes more of a dance. More of an obligation than anything else. The longer it goes on, the more her own blows slow. You feel a boil of confusion growing inside of her. You understand. You are also confused. You do not know why you stalked her. You do not know why even as her needle lashes towards your horn, something in you is reluctant to strike back. You do not want to fight her. That is quite strange. You are not one to refuse a fight.

A firm strike of your nail catches her off guard. You knock her down. The warrior in you tells you to follow up your blow. To take advantage of her weakness.

You do not. You freeze instead. She freezes too. There is something else inside of you that screams not to strike. It is something new and confusing. Some part of yourself that you do not understand. She sees you stumble. She is back on her claws, and she is still fighting but you can tell her heart isn't in it. She's confused, and she's… afraid. Of something. Something inside of you. You do not know what she thinks is inside of you, but you want to tell her it's not there. Or at least you don't think so. Whatever new thing is inside of you, it has no ill wishes towards her. You do not know how to tell her this.

A new impulse strikes you. Your nail lashes out, but you do not care if the blow lands. You only want to be near. The moment she is close enough, you try something you haven't done in a long time.

It is a difficult thing to describe, to think outwards. To think towards another. Hoping they will hear you. You try to think with all your might, projecting your own confusion, your own unwillingness to fight, your own wish to end this. This is not the first time you have done this. In moments of weakness and loneliness in the past you have tried. It has never worked before.

You think, it may just have worked now. Your nail catches her arm. You don't even think she notices. She stumbles backwards, you can see her eyes widen. You feel her react. Panic, confusion, wonder. She looks at you-

And then she's gone. Fled up into the bushes. You do not try to chase her this time. Other things happen next. You don't pay them much mind. When it is quiet again, you stop to look around you.

On the ground, there is an empty shell. It feels like you. It is strange, and a bit exciting, but empty. The shell is impaled on its owner's nail. It seems they decided to leave it behind. You wonder what drove them to make such a choice. You lean down to inspect it more closely. The shell is very empty, but not fully dry. No plants have grown into it. Whoever left this behind did so awhile ago. But not that long ago. You look further down. You spy an orange substance that has largely died off, but flakes of it remain.

The Old Light.

You do not know how you know it's name, but you do. It is the Old Light, and you hate it. It infects and steals and Consumes. No wonder the other left this shell behind. You would as well. Better to deal with the annoyance of reforming than stay in an infected shell. From the looks of it, the owner left the shell in time. The infection had only just started. So they should be alright. And they can't have left that long ago, no more than a week if you had to guess.

Yet you've seen no signs of a Shade, and they left this nice cloak behind. How strange. You take the cloak as your own. You'll have to keep your eyes peeled. For the Shade and the strange bug you fought earlier.

You feel bad for scaring her. You feel strange that you feel bad for scaring her. You want to know who she is. You want to know why something about her called to you. You think of the Thought that called you to this land in the first place. The desperate scream for help, that sounded so much like your own Thoughts you could not resist. You have not heard it again, not since the first time. You have the strangest feeling she might know where to find it. You will not know unless you can find her again.

It's awhile before you see her again. You catch a glimpse of her near the Mantis Village. You follow her again, though this time you try to look less scary. You don't know if you manage it or not. It hardly matters, by the time you've found your way into the City, she's long since moved on. You understand this world better now. Though you still do not understand her. You keep a halfhearted eye out, but the longer you stay in the city, the less hope you have of finding her again.

Eventually, you stumble on a fountain. There is a figure at the center of it. You find yourself transfixed by by the shape carved from stone. It seemed terribly familiar. You do not know why.

A moment passes, you hear the swish of her needle. And she is there. She was watching you from somewhere above. You stand frozen. She does too, for just a moment.

You wish you had a voice to apologize for scaring her. It feels like the polite thing to do. Then again, maybe it's for the best you can't. She strikes you as the sort that would deny ever being scared. Who would be offended at the implication. You can almost hear her scoff and huff at the idea. You do not know why you think that of her. You do not know why it is so easy to hear. It's whispered out from that new part of you. A part that has been quiet, but growing steadily stronger and firmer.

After the moment, she speaks. Her voice is still raspy, but it's quieter this time. She is not relaxed, but you see no hostility in her stance. Her eyes are on the statue. You relax your grip on your nail and turn your eyes up to it as well. You listen.

"Again we meet little ghost."

She has called you Ghost again. You still like the way it sounds. The quiet part of you likes it too. You hear her voice take the faintest apologetic tone.

"I'm normally quite perceptive. You I underestimated, though I've since guessed the truth."

Her phrasing is strange, you glance back to her. You understand not wanting to admit to fear, but underestimated feels like a strange description for having been chased.

"You've seen beyond this kingdom's bounds. Yours is resilience born of two voids."

Of course you'd seen beyond the kingdom. That was where you came from. Wasn't it? Her phrasing again gives you great pause. Doubt starts to take seed. Nothing in this kingdom has felt too familiar. But… you can't help but recall the empty shell left behind in the greenery. You have never found one that felt like you before. She spoke of two voids. You know one. You are not naive to your own self. But another? Did she mean the hunger? You don't think so. You feel as if you are missing something. Is that missing something what she means? She keeps talking, unaware of your questions.

"It's no surprise then you've managed to reach the heart of this world. In so doing, you shall know the sacrifice that keeps it standing."

As she speaks, she gestures to the statue. You turn your eyes to it again. Something clicks. That strange new part of you finally offers a word.

sibling.

You almost startle. Sibling? Your eyes dart from the statue to her and back again. You do not know which one triggered the thought. The term seems more fitting for the statute. An emptiness radiates out from it. The one beside you does not feel empty. Yet…. the longer you think of it, the more it feels strangely fitting for both of them. You have never been a sibling before. It seems a scary prospect, but terribly exciting too. To have there be others like you. Others who might understand. You'd like to try it. You are willing to try most new things.

"If, knowing that truth, you'd still attempt a role in Hallownest's perpetuation, seek the Grave in Ash and the mark it would grant to one like you."

Her words carry weight and warning. She makes no demands, no accusations, only an offer. She leaves. You find yourself mulling over what she said, as water drips down your shell.

Hallownest's perpetuation? Such a strange word to pick. Perpetuation. You aren't sure if you're interested in that. You did not come here for a kingdom. But… you do want answers. And you want to help the one that called you here. Are those the same thing? Looking up at the statue, you are overwhelmed with a surety that she could help you with both. You will have to find her again no matter what to know for certain. So you will. You don't really have anything better to be doing.

It takes longer than you would have liked to find her. You end up having to follow a number of other strange paths. You are trapped in a dream and called a shadow. You find both of these things incredibly rude. Thankfully, a friendly moth guides you out. Gives you a new nail that can pierce through dreams. You like the moth. You resolve to come back and visit her. To collect the dream essence she's asked you for. You hope you can find enough to sate her. You understand how terrible it is to be hungry.

You wander your way through old and new spaces, feeling more and more like you might understand what's happening.

And then you find another sibling. You know they are a sibling now. Their shell gives you pause on first sight. Something is Wrong.

It is not like the one discarded among the lush pathways. This one, you know, was not emptied by choice. This one was not empty at all. It had been changed instead. It is a corpse. You feel sick. You feel fear.

The Old Light mocks you. Reforms the corpse. Taunts you with it. You feel rage.

The battle is long, it drags on. You hate it. You win. It does not feel like victory. You take only a moment to collect yourself, and then you grip the dreamnail tight and plunge back in again. You will not leave a sibling in the Old Light's grasp.

It is harder in the dream. It is worth it. You fight and fight until finally you manage to claw the last scraps of your lost kin out of the Light's greedy claws. You see them. What little remains. You feel their relief. Their shame. Their regret.

You take them into yourself, collecting all that remains of what they once were and hiding it away from the Old Light.

The memories are scattered and hazy, but the recent ones are clear enough for you to understand. You see her. She seems hesitant. Worried. "Are you certain you can do it?" She asks. You- the lost one- nod. Overconfidence was their downfall. She was right to worry. But you could feel the fragile, barely fluttering hope coming from her. You understand them wanting to try anyways. For not wanting to shatter that hope.

She's a few paces behind them now. The Old Light is buried in your shell. In your siblings shell.

"Are you sure you can go on?" She asks. She can feel what is happening. She does not know the outcome is set. You know that you should stop. This shell is infected. You need to take your nail and break it open so you can escape. But your claws have already been taken over. They will not move. You should ask her to do it. To split you open on her needle. You desperately do not want to. It will take too long. You convince yourself you can handle it. You can go to the void soon and rid yourself of it there. You just need to hold on until then.

The Old Light overwhelms you down in the basin. So close to the void. You see her- You see your sister flinch back. Her hand is on her needle. She sees the Light as it overtakes your kin. All of you know she needs to strike. Needs to let them escape their infected shell.

But when her needle raises, the lost one flinches back in fear and regret. And your sister hesitates. Not for long, just for a moment.

That was all the Old Light needs. You are them no longer. You watch their shade be consumed and warped. She tries to strike, but it's too late. You can feel her guilt and regret pour out as the memories fade away.

You wish you had a voice, to tell her it wasn't her fault. Even if she had struck, it likely would not have saved them. Your sibling should have known better. Should've acted sooner. This task never should've fallen to her. Really, only the Old Light is to blame for all of this. But this is only a memory. She could not hear you either way. So maybe it's for the best you can say nothing.

When you come back to your shell, you understand much more. You understand what she feared, when you cornered her. You understand well and fully the task at hand. You understand she would not judge you for turning away. You understand the risk you are undertaking. She sent you here to understand. And you do now.

You pick up your nail. You collect the wings the pair had come here to seek, and you go to find your sister. Your mind is made up. You have no real fondness for Hallownest itself, the kingdom is gone. You are capable of seeing that. But your sister is here. Your siblings are here. And you will see the Old Light extinguished for the cruelty it has inflicted onto them. You do not care how difficult the task might be. Your claws will see it done.

You find her in the ash, by a great empty shell. She called this place a grave, but there is no corpse. How strange. Even at this distance, you can feel the mark she spoke of. You know what it does. You have already seen the doorway. You can feel what's on the other side. You know where the missing Shade from the lush gardens has gone. Where you need to go next.

Your sister has been guarding the mark for a long time. You see the telltale mark of her needle scratched into the walls. You feel traces of her silk lingering in cracks in the cave. Aged and worn. As you step forward in challenge, you understand what you are asking her to trust you with.

You wish, for a moment, that you had a voice to reassure her with. To tell her you will not fail. You will see your siblings safe. She can trust you with this.

Maybe it is for the best that you cannot. In your experience, actions speak louder than any words could. She sees you. Her eyes narrow.

"So you'd pursue the deeper truth? It isn't one the weak could bear."

Her voice is stronger now. The rasp from it is not gone but dulled. You do not bother to nod. Your presence is answer enough.

"Prove yourself ready to face it. I'll not hold back. My needle is lethal and I'd feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

You wonder if she's trying to convince you or herself.

"Show me you can accept this Kingdom's past and claim responsibility for its future."

And with her own terms in place, the dance begins.

She doesn't hold back. Her strikes are fast and vicious. They grow only more so as she begins to realize you made no such promise. To not hold back.

You still strike her, you couldn't avoid it if you wanted to win. But just as before, you do not let your blows stray near her mask. This is not a fight to kill. This fight is to prove your own worth. Prove you can withstand her strength. That you could match her skill. You do not need to risk striking her mask to do that.

You are, admittedly, also somewhat enjoying how frustrated it makes her. If she were less hardened, younger, smaller, you think she might stomp her foot in frustration and accuse you of not taking this seriously. The new part of you, the part of you that you have labeled sibling, conjures up a vivid image of just that. You wonder why you can see it so clearly, though only for a moment. You have little time for wondering right now.

You are taking the fight seriously. You weather her blows and respond in kind. You wear her down, step by step, until finally, her needle falters and you feel the moment she gives in.

She has to stop catch her breath. You wait patiently. Breathing strikes you as terribly inconvenient. You are glad you don't have to do that.

"...So strong..."

She mutters, and you don't think she means for you to hear, but you do. You feel proud. You feel the faintest fluttering of hope start to beat inside her again. You hope in turn you will manage to live up to it. That you will prove her right, to dare to hope again. Her gaze turns up to you. Her voice is firm again, but she cannot quite manage the sternness from before.

"You could do it, if you had the will."

It's a question turned to a statement. She's affirming she's heard your answer. You meet her gaze. Her voice drops to a warning.

"But could you raise your nail once knowing its tragic conception? And knowing yourself?..."

You still do not know the finer details. But you have guessed much. And you will learn the rest as you need to. Whatever it is, it is in the past. You will bare it. You survived it once, and you will do so again. Of that you are certain.

"Then do it, Ghost of Hallownest! Head onward. Burn that mark upon your shell and claim yourself as King."

Her permission granted, you take to the tunnels without hesitation. She has called you Ghost again. Ghost of Hallownest. You like it. You have been called many things in your long life. None of those things ever felt like they really belonged to you. Ghost of Hallownest feels like it just might. You decide to take both gifts she's offered.

You reach the egg. You can feel where she hid the mark. It was a clever place, so full of pale life and waste that none but those who already knew would feel it's call. You can see her seal, hiding it further. The magic halts you for a moment, checking you over, and then lets you pass. Lets you reach in and touch the broken chunk of shell hidden within the egg. You feel the mark brand itself to your shell. It is a greedy, vicious thing. It hurts. You bear it without a sound.

You wonder if she bore it silently, when she first took it. However long ago. You wonder if it hurt, when she carved out this piece of her shell and dropped it here, or if she felt relief. Maybe both. Likely both.

While you were lost in thought, the world started to shake. You realize what is happening a moment too late. You try to run, to dash. It's not fast enough. Annoyance fills you as the ceiling caves in. You hope it shatters your shell completely and you can just reform. If it doesn't, digging yourself out will be a terribly annoying process. It would not be the first time.

The cave falls, but no rocks hit you. Sharp claws grab you, and you are yanked forward through the air by a needle and thread. You almost want to laugh as she drops you outside the cave. She runs off without another word. You think she is embarrassed, to have proved herself incapable of standing idle less than an hour after her declaration of apathy. You do not chase her. You allow her space to hide away.

Instead, you take a moment to rest and reflect. You take out your journal. It's been awhile since you last tried to piece through the Hunter's ramblings.

There is a place on the stone for her. You haven't looked at it since you got the journal. You trail your eyes over the words, and they shift, revealing their meaning for you now.

Hornet. You read. You do not know how the Hunter knew her name, but the moment you read it, it feels correct. Hornet. It's a strange name. She looks like no wasp you've ever met. But then again, you cannot judge. You are named Ghost after all, and you're rather solid for one of those. You put the journal away.

You look around the room one last time.

Hornet called this place a grave. But there was no corpse here. No body laid to rest.

You wonder if she meant it to be hers. If this was where she planned to make her last stand. Her final attempt to protect your siblings from the Old Light. The ones unable to flee, shells already lost and without focus to restore themselves.

You do not like that thought very much. But it hardly matters. The mark is now yours. The burden of protecting your siblings falls to you now. This place will not be her grave. You will see to that. She is a sibling too after all. You wonder if she knows that. You hope that she does.

If not, you will show her in time.

You have a number of tasks to complete after you gain the mark. You visit your abyssal siblings. They are angry and upset and scared and writhing. You see the bones. You see the void lashing out in distress. You try to calm them, try to speak to them, they will not listen. You are still too foreign to them. They are too upset, too afraid, too hurt. You will need greater strength to soothe their fears. Greater understanding. You will find it.

You weather your siblings' upset as best you can, bat them away with your nail when you must. Mostly you just try to avoid them. It's hard. You try to apologize sometimes, they do not seem to care. You focus on your exploration instead.

You do not remember this place, not in any specific way. It must've been a very long time ago that you left. But the place is familiar to you all the same. You know this was your home once. Maybe it will be again one day. Not quite yet though. You have things to do first.

You dip yourself into a pool of void, held up and protected from the Upset by a kind old bug. You feel stronger, more like yourself, your true self, than you have in a long time. You thank the bug as you leave with a dip of your head. You find a room and you scream into it with all the soul you can muster because it feels right to do so. Your siblings scream along with you. They still are not calmed, still are angrily smacking at you. You think the brand might be upsetting them, as is the Old Light slowly creeping down. But they do seem to enjoy screaming with you. That is progress of a sort.

You explore the Abyss, you ensure that though the Light is creeping down, it is not yet established. Your siblings are still safe for now. Or most of them are. Two still remain that you must see to the safety of.

To your surprise, one of them is waiting for you at the top of the Abyss on your return. You hadn't expected to see her quite so soon. She can see you've changed. She states that much plainly.

"Ghost. I see you've faced the place of your birth, and now drape yourself in the substance of its shadow."

You are glad she waited up here. While you doubt your siblings would hurt her, even in their upset, it is best not to risk it. All of them would be even more upset if they'd hurt the youngest of them. You know that now. That she is the youngest. You are not sure entirely how you know, though you've suspected for quite awhile now. Here though, it echos plainly. Baby sister. Her voice dips lower as she speaks.

"Though our strength is born of similar source, that part of you, that crucial emptiness, I do not share."

You hear shame in her voice. Faint, but there. You wished you had a voice. You want to tell her you already knew she was not of void. That you are perfectly aware if she were capable, if the void was within her, she would never be allowing another to pick up this fight in her stead. You can hear echos of the longing and the jealousy, that you can act while she cannot. The sense of failure she is trying so hard to hide.

You want to tell her she did not fail. She did the opposite. She kept your siblings safe for so so so very long. It should not have fallen to her, but she did it anyways. You want to tell her you are proud of her. That she bore this burden alone for so many years. But she can rest now. You are here. You have taken it. It is your turn now. So many voices want to spill out of you, you cannot tell which are your own. You don't really care. There is so much you want to say.

Maybe it is for the best you cannot speak. You have a feeling she would not listen, she would think your words empty. But you can Think, and Thoughts convey a truth words cannot. And so you do. You project what you hope is comfort and understanding. Eagerness, willingness. You think she feels it. She looks away, but when she speaks again, her voice has a lit to it now that it lacked before.

"Funny then, that such darkness gives me hope. Within it, I see the chance of change."

You can hear the hope inside of her. Beating, pulsing, fluttering, growing. It strengthens your resolve.

"A difficult journey you would face, but a choice it can create. Prolong our world's stasis or face the heart of its infection."

You know. You have heard it. You have heard the plan echoed, whispered, calling to you, you know what you must do. You tilt your head up at her. She is still not looking at you. She hesitates, and then finally says what she truly wanted to say.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path, but what end may come, the decision rests with you."

You take a moment to appreciate the care in her words. She does not seek to command you. She does not seek to force your path. You can feel how desperately she wants all this to end. But she leaves it in your claws. You will not fail her. You cannot tell her this, but you hope she knows.

She lingers only a moment more, looking out over the edge. The two of you depart together, paths splitting at the exit of the cave. You have work to do. You are excited now. You like having a goal.

You make steady progress through your list of tasks. You open new doorways. You put a lot of ghosts to rest. The infection is worsening, but you still have time. You know this. You return to the moth. She upgrades the nail she gave you, and gives you quite a few gifts. You like her a lot. You do not understand why she doesn't take the essence you gathered for her, you assumed she wanted to eat it, but she just seems to like seeing you've collected it. Strange, but hardly a pain to oblige.

You collect power and strength throughout Hallownest. You will need it. You find Deepnest. You think for a moment that you have found another sibling, but it is a Liar. You find that rude.

You meet Midwife. She tries to eat you, but she also tells you about Hornet. This seems a fair trade. You do not quite understand her story, but you learn your sister once called this place home. That she was a gift to this place once? You do not understand who could be so foolish as to give her away, but maybe it was meant to be a gift to her too. Deepnest strikes you as a wonderful place to live.

It reminds you a lot of the Abyss. You like the dark of it; so much of Hallownest is filled with so many overwhelming lights. Not here. Here it is dark, alive, and there are so many small tunnels for you to explore. Parts of it feel very familiar to you. Most of Hallownest does not, but this place does. You wonder if you passed through here once, when you first left. Maybe.

You find scuttering little things throughout Deepnest that remind you of your sister. Little Weavers, the Hunter's notes call them. You find yourself quite fond of the little things, how they dance. You find a Den, filled with delicious and fine soul silk. A village of incredible craft, and kind enough to leave snacks out for passersby. You find a charm meant for your sister. You tuck it in your pocket, you'll have to remember to bring it to her. Having seen much of the place, you think that once the Old Light is dead, you wouldn't mind living here. At least for a time.

It isn't until you enter Herrah's den that you come to understand Midwife's story. The puppets outside are kind enough to bring you into the maze like building, although you don't understand the point of them wrapping you with silk. It feels like they could've just shown you the path. Maybe it's a traditional thing. Some bugs have very strange traditions. Oh well.

You find your way through the maze, and you see Herrah in her Den. And you Know.

She feels so much like Hornet, you know who she must be. You understand the trade she made. You thank her for it silently.

You swing your dreamnail without hesitation. This one is family to you too. You intended to set her free regardless, but you can do so gladly now. She does not deserve to be trapped here, soul being used as little more than chain, fruitlessly trying to keep bound what must be killed.

You see her in the dream. You bow your head in respect, to this fragment of her left behind. You hear her last lingering thoughts still echoing. For her. All for her. You hope then, in whatever After awaits Herrah, she knows you are here now. That her daughter is well, and she is not alone in her fight any longer. That you will see all of your siblings freed. All of them.

You Focus, and Herrah is freed. The first of three. You blink. You are back in your shell. You look up, and you are startled to see your sister there. You did not feel her. Too much of her is in this room already. She notices when you wake. She says nothing until you move yourself upright, and move to sit by her side.

"So you've slain the Beast... and you head towards that fated goal."

She is fighting to keep her voice even. To sound detached. Maybe if you could not feel her soul weep, you might believe her.

"I'd not have obstructed this happening, but it caused me some pain to knowingly stand idle."

You are surprised to hear her say it plainly. She feels your surprise, and glares at you, a terribly weak thing. Any bite it might've had is lost in her sorrow.

"...What? You might think me stern but I'm not completely cold."

That wasn't what surprised you. You do not think her cold. She may want to come off as such, but you can feel her anguish, her pain, her sorrow. She looks away from you. When she speaks, it sings of a eulogy.

"We do not choose our mothers, or the circumstance into which we are born. Despite all the ills of this world, I'm thankful for the life she granted me."

A moment's pause. Her breath is not quite even, you can hear the faint shakes.

"It's quite a debt I owed. Only in allowing her to pass, and taking the burden of the future in her stead, can I begin to repay it."

You wish you had a voice to tell her that isn't true. She owed no debt. She was a gift. Her mother's bargain was not hers. She was not supposed to be the one to pay the price. You want to ask her who put those thoughts into her head. You want to ask if they still live, so you might put your nail through them. You find yourself slightly caught off guard by the depth of your anger and frustration. You wonder if it is entirely your own. Regardless of its source, you agree.

Maybe it is for the best that you can't speak. You suspect those words would not reach her. Not beside her mother's grave.

A quiet moment passes, she glances to you again. You see the faintest shake of her shoulders. If you thought for a moment she would react well to touch, you would try to offer comfort that way. You know she wouldn't. It would only scare her in a moment where she is already so tense and upset. You keep your claws folded. She speaks again. Her voice is strained.

"Leave me now, ghost. Allow me a moment alone before this bedchamber becomes forever a shrine."

You don't like leaving a sibling in pain, but you respect her wishes. You offer her one last look and slip out of the room. Out of sight. You do not leave entirely. You stay just outside and listen to the near silent tears fall. Were it not for gravity, you would hear nothing at all. You stand her guard in her moment of weakness. Until finally the noise quiets, and a faint rustle indicates she's taken her leave.

You leave too. You move on. You go up, and find a tram station in ruins. A strange thing indeed. The bugs of Deepnest did not permit this one to be built. Why would they? There was already a tram below, and the stag lines right below this location. It seems quite excessive to have yet another station. You shake your head at the foolishness, and search the area for anything of use. You find a tram pass, and tuck it in your cloak beside the Weaversong charm. You forgot to give that to Hornet. Oh well. You'll remember next time.

Since you are now in possession of a tram pass, you take the tram out of Deepnest. There is a place that calls to you above Deepnest, but you don't feel quite ready to go there yet. There is another place you must go first, down in the Basin. You've avoided it until you were sure you could break the seals, no sense seeking power you did not know if you could use. You know now that you can, so it is time to claim it. The other two seals will hold your foe in place while you obtain what power you need to face the one held within.

The White Palace had fallen. Hornet had spoken to your lost sibling of power hidden within its walls. Power she had refused once, quite some time ago. She was not wrong that it had been there at one time, but it was gone now. Existing only as a memory within the void.

Or rather, within a specific void. The one that consumed it. The Kingsmoulds are not your siblings. You find them strange. Constructs of soul and void, made by your Father, but with no shell. Not one true. Their armor is strong, but their innards are fragile. So very unlike you. Your shell is far more breakable than your inner self.

You come up upon the one that contains what you seek. What has sustained it for all this time. You strike with your dreamnail. You awaken. You fight.

These memories of the White Palace are terribly foggy things. The corruption of time mixes with the strange thought patterns of a Kingsmould for interesting results. You find yourself torn between adoration of the spinning blades, how they slice and slash, and annoyance at the long path you must take. You do not care much for the bugs of this memory. You dislike their white garb and how they bow to you. You dislike how bright everything is. You dislike how noisy it all is. You would not have liked to live here.

You find your Father's workshop. It is nice, dim and quiet. You rest inside it for awhile, reading through memories of his papers and experiments. You see drawings that look like you, that describe you. Your siblings. His plans. You put them back where you found them, you don't care for his plans. You must imagine your Father spent much of his time in here. It's a fine place to be. You do not understand why he made the rest of his Palace so poorly by comparison. You do not understand many of his choices. You move on.

You snack on one of the noble bugs you find. They do not even have the decency to taste good. You understand they are only memories, but you are offended all the same. You kill another for this sin. It does not make you feel any better. You move on.

You travel upward through strange roundabout paths until finally you reach the peak. The throne room. It is empty and cold. Only lit by pure soul lanterns dangling from the roof. You quite like it. You would think it a fine design if not for how far away from the entrance it was. And because you think the soul lanterns would make you hungry. That would be annoying.

Father's corpse is on the throne. Not really his corpse. Only a hollow memory of what it might've looked like. This shell is as empty as the one at the kingdom's edge. Long since devoured by the void. How lucky for you that he left much of his power elsewhere. You strike his corpse with your nail, the empty husk falling by the wayside. Half of what you seek falls out from his cloak. What remains of his soul is now yours.

It is difficult to fight the urge to devour it. You resist only with the promise of a greater meal to come. You do not seek to things by halfs. You put the fragment away.

You look down at Father's corpse. At the memory of his corpse. You wonder if you are supposed to want to speak here. If you are supposed to want to confess something. Or question him. Or scream. Or cry. You have been beside many corpses, and most bugs you know like to speak at them. You have found yourself wanted to speak to a few. But here, gazing down at your father's fallen body, you feel nothing at all.

Oh well. Maybe it is for the best you do not want to speak. You have no voice to do so, by his design.

Your task here is done, but you take a moment to consider the throne. You have heard so many bugs sing of longing for thrones, fight wars for them, give their lives to try to obtain them. You sit upon it out of curiosity Moments tick past. The seat is not particularly comfortable. You wait a moment longer, wondering if you are meant to feel different. You suppose you do. The soul lanterns do make you feel hungry. But that is hardly new. You are hungry most of the time. You have been hungry most of your life. You get up from the throne, your curiosity sated. There is nothing left that you desire here.

With a swift movement, you impale yourself on your own nail, waking from the dream.

You know you should go find the other half calling you above Deepnest when you awaken. But curiosity draws you to find out where else the tram goes. The lines of it stretch out towards the edge of the kingdom, but you never found a tramway out in the ash.

You are taken to tunnels below the kingdom's edge. You are at first confused as to why such a station would be built at all. Deepnest and the Palace were sensible choices. The Palace, since the King had made the strange choice to live there. Deepnest, for it's comfortable and cozy environment. This place seems to have little to offer, until you catch a sweet scent slipping out from behind fragile walls.

It doesn't take you very long to discover what treasure is hidden here. You break through into a Hive, and cannot stop yourself from scrapping some honey right off the walls and into the gnawing void inside you. No wonder. You would also build a tramway here. No, you would live here. Even if it is a bit yellow and a bit bright, the delicious honey infused with soul more than makes up for it.

If you did not have such a grand task ahead of you, you would stay until you had devoured the Hive in it's entirety. But alas, there will be time for that later. You settle for a few more clawfuls from the walls, and then advance, curious about this hidden treasure trove. Nowhere else in Hallownest have you heard mention of such a place, and you find that quite strange.

You progress swiftly through the Hive. Pausing only to down another hiveling when they seem to insist on shoving themselves at you. They are filled with honey, and though you know they are tainted with the Old Light, you can't quite bring yourself to stop. You feel you cannot be blamed when they throw themselves at you so readily.

Eventually, you find yourself challenged by a Knight. He is a fierce challenger, but a kind one. He keeps offering you snacks in the middle of your fight. He reminds you strangely of your sister, though you cannot say exactly how. If he were not infected, you would have stayed the killing blow altogether, not wishing to end such a foe. But he is, you can smell how fully the Old Light has buried itself inside of him. So you grant him freedom at the end of your nail.

Only in his death throes, as he turns to address another, do you also turn your eyes to the side and realize what sits before you. A corpse, giant, dead, but still pulsing with power. An old beat still strums within it, though the bearer is gone, it still holds this hive in it's sway. It still smells of honey.

The Hunger hits you at full force. You will admit you almost cave in, almost forget your duties to go about devouring such a prize.

But the shape of the figure is of a wasp. And that reminds you of your sister. Hornet. She is out there right now. Still in danger. The power held within that corpse is great, and it would no doubt aid you in your quest, but you do not have the time to devour it right now. Besides, it has been here a very long time. You doubt it will have left by the time you are done.

Rejecting the Hunger is a difficult task, but you manage. The snacks you've already had help. Though, only a little. You can admit to this being a fierce struggle. You do it anyways. You pass by the corpse, down into the chambers below. There is something calling to you down there. You pass over some spikes, and enter a small room.

A charm lays on a pedestal. You do not know why exactly, but as your claws reach for it, you are suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of your sister. The charm is soaked with her soul, her heart, her grief. You see the faintest flashes of her, younger, learning to fight. Her exhaustion, anger, bitterness, and grief. But also joy, home, connection, family.

You pick the charm up delicately. The hunger is diminished, put to rest at this new discovery. This was hers once. This charm. This Hive. You remember quite suddenly that she bares a wasp's name, though none of their features. She must have been named by the one above. They must have been very close once. You examine the charm more closely. From how strongly it feels of her, you half expect it to be of her making. But no, upon closer examination of the healing and bonding magic within, you suspect it was made by the wasp outside and Herrah as a gift. It tastes of them at its core. It's a fine gift. You wonder how it ended up here.

You suppose it does not really matter. You take the charm and very delicately tuck it onto the front of your cloak, letting your soul fill it. You are curious as to it's effects. Slow healing begins to run in your veins, it feels warm. You don't like that very much, but it also tastes sweet. That feels a fair trade. You decide to wear it for the time being, until you can return it to your sister.

You exit, intending to be swift. Only to find a spirit standing solemn above the Knight. One look at her screams of her relation to Hornet. You cannot quite explain it, but they stand in the same way. Tall, proud, and ready. You approach her gingerly, hoping you have not offended her by thinking about eating her corpse. Bugs can be so strangely touchy about their corpse. You do not understand why. They were clearly done using it, but get upset when you try to take it. It's as if they just want it to lie there without purpose.

Thankfully, if the spirit knows of your thoughts, she does not care to comment on them. She speaks first to her Knight.

"My Knight... At last you are freed."

Her gaze then turns to you. It softens. She speaks with a regal air, but not unkindly. Again, you can almost feel your sister in her words. Or maybe you have been feeling her in your sister's. You are very glad you did not eat her corpse. That would have been terribly rude to your sister. She might be saving it for something.

"Small thing. I know your kind."

That makes you perk up. Her words carrying a flash of memory, of void, of coming up from below, that gives them truth. She knows. Has she meet others like you before? Or did Hornet tell her of your kind?

"If you attempt to resolve your past then know I am not the queen you seek. It is the pale beings that bear blame for your nature."

Ah. Her voice holds sympathy, but it is not required. You are aware of this. You have no blame for her, nor any grievances to air. Quite the opposite really. She was the caretaker of a sibling. You are grateful to her for that. Her voice saddens. She looks away from you.

"Though this hive exists within Hallownest, we play no part in its attempt at perpetuation."

That catches your attention. Not the statement itself, but her choice of words. Perpetuation. The Perpetuation of Hallownest. That was what Hornet had called it, back at the fountain. It had struck you as such a strange choice of word back then. Perpetuation. No other has used that term to describe Hallownest's continued existence. Only the two of them. Hornet choose to play a part. This Hive did not. You look up at the Queen sharply, trying to convey your questions. She glances back at you, and then away. Her voice is filled with grief when she next speaks.

"To rail against nature is folly. All things must accept an end."

Silence fills the air between you. You wish you had a voice to ask if she means what you think she means. If that is the reason Hornet's charm of belonging was buried deep below this corpse. If it is the same reason the exits were sealed, and any sign of your sister's life here has long been scrubbed away. You want to ask her why she would abandon your sister. It fills you with rage and accusations.

Something inside of you is furious. Maybe it isn't inside of you at all. The part of you that is a sibling wants to scream you were supposed to be there for her. You do not entirely understand why. You don't think you've met this Queen before. The anger does not care. It boils under your shell. You want to yell.

But maybe it is for the best you have no voice. When you look out over the sea of infected hivelings, you think you find the answer to your unspoken questions. You recall the storm of grief and rage you felt at having found a single sibling claimed by the Old Light. You cannot imagine the emotions Hornet would experience at the sight in front of you. Your rage toward the Queen evaporates, and understanding takes its place. Sad and tired understanding.

Bardoon and the Fungal clans spoke of your Father's supposed foresight. You've find yourself doubtful. You have seen where he staked his confidence, and what befell him because of it. His declarations stand empty and his Palace swallowed whole. This Queen would be a better candidate, you think. She seems to have guess this Hive's fate correctly. Though you suppose now both are dead, there's little point in arguing the matter.

You give the Queen a nod, and release her spirit with your dreamnail. She also deserves to be free. You leave the Hive. You do not eat any more hivelings on the way out. If you had the time and the skill, you would reseal the entryways. But you do not. You have a feeling it will not really matter. It has been a very long time since your sister came here, you doubt she will suddenly decide to now.

You take the Hive's charm off at the next bench you stop at. You tuck it by Weaversong. It feels wrong to not at least offer it to your sister, but you are no longer sure she will want it. Not with the wound still opened. Maybe once the Old Light is dead and gone, that might be a better time. You will give it to her then.

Now, at last, you make your way to the place above Deepnest. The Queen's Gardens you soon learn. There are Mantises here. Rude ones. They are infected, and angry, and you tear through them with pleasure. With other bugs lost to the Old Light, you kill them as a mercy. These who fell to her willingly, you kill as a sport. As a message to the Old Light of what is soon to come.

You meet a caterpillar, a ghost abandoned by your Mother. You play with it for awhile, and send the spirit off to rest. These gardens are lively and bright. They hurt your eyes after the comfortable dark of Deepnest. You press on regardless. You navigate through many many thorns and spines and spikes. Platforms that forget themselves and fail to be a platform, winding tunnels, snapping plants. You find a stag station, and call the Old Stag there just to hear him speak of the place.

You press onward, until you reach an arena. Another Mantis Lord is here. One with the Old Light filling his shell. Cloth, a bug you've met a few times, helps you in the fight, though you aren't entirely sure why. She dies to kill him. She seems happy with this outcome. You do not question it. You see her spirit off as well.

You press on. You feel what is ahead. You know what it is. You find the cocoon and you enter.

Nothing could've prepared you for the wave of Hunger that overtakes you when you meet your Mother. It is stronger than any before it. So strong you do not hear her words when she greets you. You want to devour her. You want it as you have never wanted anything before. You gaze up at her with empty eyes. You wonder if she would fight back. You do not think you care. You do not remember how to care. The void inside of you stirs and swells and rages and demands to DEVOUR. You cannot think of a good reason to deny it. You cannot think at all.

Your Mother takes no notice of your starvation. Instead her eyes catch on the brand marked on your shell.

"It faced the Gendered Child?"

She notes, and it is only those words that snap your mind back into your shell. That snap shut the maw of the void opening inside you. If you had eyelids, you would blink. You stay still. Never have you been so grateful to not have a voice. To not have been able to scream of the hungry, starving thing inside of you. You are glad your Mother seems blind to your emotions, speaking about your sister instead.

"She's a fierce foe, strong in mind and body, striking reflection of her mother, though the two were permitted little time together."

Her voice is wistful with the weight of the past, but deeply fond. You find the thoughts of your sister, who is out there right now, waiting and fighting, a strong deterrent to the hunger. It is not gone just yet, but it is shrunk back. Overruled by the part of you that is a Sibling. The part that is growing stronger and stronger.

"I never begrudged the Wyrm's dalliance as bargain. In fact, I feel some affection for the creature birthed."

You almost tilt your head at that. You would never assume she would have felt otherwise. Some bugs can be very strange about relationships and children born to others though. She might just be in the habit of having to explain.

"If your paths were ever to align, I imagine you might gain yourself a powerful ally."

You wondered when the last time she'd spoken to Hornet was. You wondered if Hornet even knew Mother was still alive. You doubt they've seen each other recently from how Mother spoke of her. You are not even sure if your Mother knows Hornet is named Hornet now. You are not sure if Hornet wants her to know.

The thought of your sister fills you with guilt. You had come so close to devouring your Mother, had she not happened to speak of your sister, you would've done it. Already you held half of your Father's remaining soul, and you planned to claim the other half shortly. While you knew any power claimed by you would be shared among your void born siblings one way or another, it would not be passed to her. It would have been terribly selfish of you to claim both your parents as your own, without having offered to share with her first.

The more you think it over, the less appealing devouring your mother became. Even though your sister stood taller than you, something within you sings that she seemed underfed. Maybe in food, or maybe not. That was much harder for you to tell. But certainly in soul, in Power, in the flesh of a pale beings. The part of you that is a sibling, grumbles and grouches that she had not even taken any of the empty shell of the sibling left in the greenpath above. You assume because of the Old Light infecting it. Possibly also the lingering drips of void. You can stomach the traces of the Old Light, and the void is hardly an issue. But you suspect your sister would not fare as well.

Your Mother is untouched by either force. Void nor the Old Light infects her flesh nor her soul. She would be ideal for Hornet, who likely sorely needs such a meal. And you had been ready to simply devour her without a second thought to your sister, who has been forced to pass by so many meals already. A great shame indeed, and a sign that you needed to claim the Kingsoul now. Both to abate your hunger, and to finally see to an end to all of this.

You stepped past your Mother claiming the second half of the charm. The two slot together, and begin to pulse. You feel the soul fill you. Pulsing outwards. The hunger does not abate. It remains unchanged. You thought-

"Ahh! So it bears our once-fractured soul, now complete. Such strength, such resolve, such dedication! Is it more than simply a Vessel? I almost feel like I'm once again in the presence of my beloved Wyrm."

Your mother's words reach you once again. She sounds wistful and impressed. She has also called you a Vessel. You do not like that word. Your shell is quite clearly taken. It is rude to imply otherwise. But she is being polite enough otherwise. Maybe it means something different to her. You glance back at her, and she hums thoughtfully.

"The Kingsoul... What is at the heart of it I wonder? If its curiosity wills it, it should seek out that place. That place where it was born, where it died, where it began..."

The Abyss? Now that she'd mentioned it, you do feel a draw there. You knew you had to return, when you had the strength to calm your siblings. You do not quite feel as if you have that strength, but maybe that was not really what this charm is meant for. Maybe this charm is just a means to find the strength you need buried down there.

You turn and leave, ignoring the hunger until it starts to fade as you leave your Mother behind. Your siblings await you. All of them. You want to see to them first. They are more important than the hunger.

That thought gives you pause. You have lived a very long life. You have denied the hunger before. You have never considered something more important than it before.

But that's a lie, isn't it? You've been putting your siblings above the hunger for some time now. Instinctively. You had not even thought about it until now, but on reflection, you find it true. The sibling within you has grown and overtaken so much of what you once were. Even the hunger now must submit to it. Must obey its whims instead of being obeyed.

You find that you do not mind this change as much as you might've once thought. You find being a sibling far more enjoyable than being hungry. It has its own stresses, but you find the rewards and the relief far greater. You nod to no one. Affirming your choice. You are a sibling first now, and hungry second. With this realization guiding your steps, you are ready at last.

You go home. To the Abyss. Below the empty shells of siblings lining the top. Past the furious siblings lost in their hunger, trying to devour you. Trying to devour the charm pinned to your cloak. You feel the call of your birthplace. You find your egg. You strike it with the dreamnail. You remember.

You learn where the hunger inside you came from. You learn why you have never been able to fill it. What you have been yearning for. You see the one who instilled it in you. He turns away from you. You turn away from him. You turn towards your siblings instead. You call to them, all of them who can hear you. You sing to them- you know how to sing to them now. You shatter what remains of his soul, casting it away, pulling out the emptiness within, and you embrace that emptiness.

Your siblings feel it, they hear you. They understand. The change travels through all of you, all those down here, and an understanding is reached. They sing with you. They are part of you now. No- they were always part of you. But you can hear them at last, and they you.

You emerge from the Abyss emptier than you were before. Part of yourself is still down there with your siblings. You leave it down there by choice. It is only fair. You are taking part of each of them with you in turn. You are fuller than you have ever been before.

You seek out the last two Dreamers. You free them. It is a blur. You remember only Quirrel helping you stab a jellyfish? It seems a strange task for him to do, last you spoke he was talking about history, but you remember it clearly. He survived the encounter. That is good. You like Quirrel. You remember nothing of the other one.

Before you know it, your claws have carried you to where your last remaining siblings are. Two of them. Hornet is here. You will admit to rushing inside the temple in panic when you first sensed her. The seal is broken, the Old Light is spilling out, you feared the worst.

Instead, you find your sister waiting patiently outside the bindings. The billowing clouds of infection roll past her with a strange disinterest. The Old Light seems almost purposefully to avoid her. You do not know if this is an act of fear on the Old Light's behalf, or the work of your sibling bound inside. It doesn't matter. You are glad to see her well, although somewhat upset she had risked coming near this place at all. You try not to project the upset. You do not want to scare her. Mostly. You would like to scare her a little bit if it would convince her to not stand so close to the Old Light's Cage. Your intentions do not matter, she is not scared when she addresses you. Or if she is, she hides it well.

Your sister glances at you, and then to the open door. Then back to you.

"The path is opened. One way or another an end awaits inside."

Yes. You are aware. You eye her suspiciously. You do not think she came here just to tell you something you already know. You are correct, after a moment she speaks again.

"I won't be joining you in this. That space is built to sustain your likes. Its bindings would drain me were I to join."

Her voice is firm and calm. You do not believe her for a moment. Not that the bindings would drain her. You know for a fact that they would. If the Old Light were not danger enough to her, the Void inside is a death sentence of its own right. Which is why she should not be standing outside of it right now. Her eyes narrow back at you. You think she senses your doubt. Her tone is defensive now.

"Don't be surprised. I'll not risk my own life in your attempt, though if the moment presents I'll aid as I'm able."

You wish you had a voice so you could ask her to promise that. That she truly has no intention of risking her life. You wish you could ask her to clearly define what she means by "aid" if she actually has no intention of entering. You wish you could impress upon her that this is not her fight. She has done more than enough. She has weathered this storm for so very long on her own, stood guard for your siblings, kept safe the means to bring the fight about. She should rest and be safe. This part is yours and the rest of your siblings to do. Not hers. Not when it would almost certainly mean her death.

Maybe it is for the best you cannot speak. You think that if she intends to do this now, your words would not sway her away.You wish you could try anyways.

She looks away from you again, back towards the door. Her voice is final when she speaks. You think this part she may have prepared.

"Ghost of Hallownest, you possess the strength to enact an end of your choosing. Would you supplant our birth-cursed sibling, or would you transcend it?"

You know your choice already, that is not what holds you in this moment. Her eyes are still on the inside of the egg. You give in to your concern, and do something you've never done before. You slice your dreamnail through her leg. It does not harm her, she doesn't even seem to notice, as focused as she is on the egg. Her thoughts ring out, clear as a bell. Far clearer than trying to read her emotions hiding within her shell.

'...Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?'

Hm. That is comforting. Her thoughts are of your task being yours, and not any dangerous scheme of her own. Tentatively, you decide you are being paranoid. Your sister understands the danger inside this place. She is not a hatchling, and you must remember that now. Even if the part of you that is a sibling protests, it quiets when you remind it you have another sibling suffering inside. You will need to trust your sister in this.

Besides, you reason as you step inside, it isn't as if she can do nothing from out there. You've seen her needle's range with your own eyes. And she has those traps of hers as well. She could be planning all sorts of things without putting a claw over the boundary. You will trust her to see to her own safety.

You step inside, and shatter the chains keeping your cursed sibling trapped. They scream out. You steel yourself, and all your thoughts turn towards the battle.

It is harder than you expected. Not the fight. The fight is as you expected. Your sibling is struggling to help you, to free themselves. The Old Light knows little of fighting in this body. The struggle is in finding an opening to get at the source. Your sibling's body is weakening, and you know you cannot push it too far. If it shatters entirely, the Old Light will escape. You need them to hold her bound, but equally, you need a way in. You have not found one yet. You must find one soon.

No sooner do you think that, then you hear a shout.

A red blur shoots across your vision, and then one sibling is pinned in place by the other. Your sister is straining, soul already struggling under the weight of the void in this place. All three other occupants of the room are frozen, even the Old Light is stunned by her recklessness.

You desperately, desperately wish you had a voice so you could scream at your sister for this act. So you could scream at yourself for believing her for even a moment. That she would actually remain safely outside.

It would have done nobody any good, but maybe it would've made you feel better about the choice you next make. Because her needle has created an opening. The one you needed. And though you want so desperately to grab her by her scruff and haul her out of this cursed place, you have no time. So you pull out your dreamnail, and strike true.

As you fade into the Dream, you find yourself wanting to pray for the very first time in your life. You do not know to who. You only hope that some miracle occurs, and your sister survives this. You push aside the sinking feeling that she will not. You must press on. You have to finish this.

The Old Light appears, and all of your focus is pulled to the task in front of you. You need to end this as fast as possible. You draw your nail. You are ready. The Old Light is too.

You clash. You hurt. You strike back. You dodge. It takes too long. Far, far too long. You cannot let yourself become distracted. Your shell burns with exhaustion, but you push on.

In the end, you win. Not alone. You shatter your own shell. Your siblings are here, their strength is yours. The Void sings around you, reaching up, grasping, extinguishing this old enemy. United behind your will, it finally has form to take its vengeance. To put out this flame that has burned away at it for so long. That has hurt and stolen from you. Victory sings through your body. Grief does too.

Very suddenly a memory comes to you. A recent thing. Shared by the same voice that has sung to you of so many other things. The same voice that called you to this kingdom. You see it crystal clear, your sister prone on the ground. Unconscious. Life slipping away to the void around you. One desperate hand reaches out, coaxing what soul it has left to shield her from the void. The task was not easy, but you feel the shield form successfully. Keeping her safe. Oh. That was why your sibling took so long to join you in their mind.

You share in their relief. She is safe. She is above. All of you are safe now. You take a moment to bask in the cool solace, in the victory, in the comfort of the void. You are very glad you don't need to speak here. You feel, and your siblings feel with you. Feel alongside you. As you. As you do with them. You have been alone for so much of your life, it is difficult to describe how good it feels to be so surrounded. So heard. But you do not need to describe it. They understand you as you are.

And for now, you are exhausted after everything. You sink down further into the void with your siblings. Below what any bug could reach. All siblings that should be here are, and the one that shouldn't is safe above.

No longer upset, no longer bound, no longer hungry.

Safe to rest at long last.