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Traversing Hallownest’s ruins had gotten a lot easier after Ghost found the mantis claw.
The little vessel swiftly scaled the stone wall, hooking the mantis claw into the crevices and pulling themselves up after it. After climbing a few feet, they glanced back, judged the distance, and jumped. One flap from their mothwing cloak and they were on the next platform. Another step closer to… wherever they were heading. They took a moment to glance around and check for enemies; none, for the moment at least. Safe, for now.
They pulled out their map and checked it again for what must have been the 30th time in the last fifteen minutes. They were traversing new territory—the Fungal Wastes, as Cornifer had called it. Well, a new area of the territory. They’d been here for a few days already, long enough to find that mantis claw tucked away in the corner of the Mantis Village. Speaking of… Ghost grabbed one of their pins and marked the Mantis Village on their map. They had to go back there eventually; they’d seen a lever through a locked door, and the only way to reach it was via a path full of spikes. Thanks to those and the mantises, they’d come close to dying one too many times. They did not plan on losing geo because of a failed wall-jump, thank-you-very-much.
Ghost glanced over the map one more time, then tucked it away and started walking. They’d settled on exploring the rest of the Fungal Wastes for now, and then they’d probably head back to Greenpath or the Forgotten Crossroads. They remember seeing a few previously inaccessible pathways that they might be able to check out now that they had the mantis claw.
What could they say? Wait— scratch that. They didn’t have a voice. But they were a curious little Knight, and they had a mind to explore as much of these ruins as they possibly could. Sure, they’d keep moving forward. Eventually. That tug deep in their soul kept them from stalling too long, as much as they hated to admit it. But that wasn’t going to stop them from backtracking and taking every side route imaginable.
Ghost stopped at the edge of the platform and looked to the closest ledge. This section of the caves seemed relatively safe so far, no acid lakes and very few enemies, so they were taking the chance to practice their platforming skills. This next jump looked a bit far, but they could make it. Probably.
They readied themselves, then leapt into the air and pushed off with their cloak.
And promptly missed the jump.
Ghost just managed to catch the edge of the ledge with their claws, digging the mantis claw into the stone for extra support. Ah, well. At least it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. They glanced up at the ledge, then down at the ground below them. If they couldn’t pull themselves up, they’d just drop down and try again. It was, what, a four foot drop? No harm done there.
They shifted their grip slightly, grabbing onto a different part of the ledge, and the stone broke apart under one of their claws. Ghost’s soul lurched in their chest. They tried again, one hand tightly gripping the mantis claw, the other searching for purchase on the rock. After a harrowing moment they finally found a handhold, but the vessel felt as though it was going to give at any second.
They glanced down again, trying to reassure themselves that the ground wasn’t all that far away—
But suddenly, the ground was far away. Much further than just four feet. In fact, they couldn’t see the ground at all; it was just them, this rocky ledge, and nothing but open air below.
The little shadow stiffened, their soul clenching in the way they’d come to identify as fear. They were very high up, and there was a long way for them to fall.
No. No— what? T-they, they couldn’t be— They’d just checked, they swore they’d just checked, and they hadn’t been all that high off the ground. But now they were— Oh, god. Were they going to fall?
Ghost began trying to pull themselves up, kicking at the stone with their feet, straining with their arms. They lunged for a higher handhold and it crumbled almost instantly, the broken stone tumbling into the abyss below.
The Abyss—
The vessel could feel their hands beginning to tremble, their soul constricting so tightly it hurt, a sick feeling forming in the back of their head. No, please no. Not again. They couldn’t go through this again. They lunged again, scrabbling for purchase, finding none. Please—
They were stronger now, they had to be. They’d come so far already. But now here they were, dangling off the edge again. Helpless. Weak. Pathetic. Unwanted. Ghost leaned their head forward until it was resting against the stone, the sick feeling growing and spreading until it felt like their very soul was going to leave their body.
It was as if they’d never left that day. That one day—
And then they all fell— And then I—
I should’ve died with the rest of them.
The little Knight cried out soundlessly, shuddered, and squeezed their eyes shut. But they couldn’t block out the memory. They couldn’t bring themselves to look down and see them— or look up and see him—
And he just— h-he— walked a-away—
And now they were going to fall. All the way back down.
Again.
Hornet watched from behind a rocky outcropping as the vessel somehow managed to miss a jump, just barely managing to catch itself on the ledge it had been aiming for before it hit the ground.
Really. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but wonder how this was the same vessel who’d outlasted her in combat only a week prior. She supposed one had to have a lot of resolve to get up and try again after failing over and over, but… still…
The hunter had chosen to track this vessel after she’d lost their fight, following it silently as it backtracked through Greenpath, descended the Fog Canyon, and, now, made its way through the Fungal Wastes. She wasn’t stalking, per say, just waiting for the right moment to attack. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. The reality was that Hornet didn’t really know what she was doing, why she had started feeling inclined to let this vessel live. But those were thoughts to ponder another day.
Hornet shook her head slightly, shifted her grip on her needle, and refocused her attention back on the vessel. She watched as it searched for another handhold; apparently, it was opting to try and pull itself up onto the ledge instead of taking the four foot drop to the ground. Its first attempt was unsuccessful, the stone crumbling loose, but its second try managed to hold steady.
Hornet had to admit that this vessel had proven to learn quite quickly. Even if it stumbled the first few times, its reactions improved with each attempt. It had picked up on Hornet’s own fighting patterns with relative ease, dodging her lunges and using the chance to strike her from behind, even using the hunter as a springboard to avoid getting hit. Though, sometimes, the vessel appeared to do more than just reacting. Sometimes, Hornet could swear that it was actually processing things, thinking about them.
She would’ve sworn it, but she knew it was impossible. It was a vessel, after all. No will, no mind, no voice. It didn’t have feelings, couldn’t think for itself.
Wait— so then why…
Hornet narrowed her eyes and took a few cautious steps closer to the vessel. It had begun pushing off of the stone with its feet and clawing repeatedly at the rock as if trying to find purchase. Its movements were fast, shaky, almost panicked.
But that can’t be right.
As Hornet watched, the vessel rested its head against the stone and shuddered. It was likely just tired from overexerting itself, that had to be it. But— it was trembling. Not just its arms, but its whole body. Trembling, as if it was breathing much too quickly—or as if it was going to cry.
If vessels didn’t have feelings, then why was this one acting like it was having a panic attack?
It wasn’t like it was all that high up off the ground. Sure, the vessel was small, but a four foot drop? Hornet had seen it fall much farther than that, stick the landing, and walk away perfectly fine. Not to mention the fact that the vessel couldn’t feel panic in the first place.
But its grip on the ledge was weakening, Hornet could see that, the stone breaking apart and its claws giving out even as it tried again to find a safe spot to hang onto.
It wasn’t going to find one. It was going to fall.
Before Hornet even realized what she was doing, she was dashing forward to catch the little ghost in her arms.
Ghost tried one last time to pull themselves up. But their hands were shaking, and the rock only turned to dust at their touch. They were slipping. The soul inside of them screaming out with all the things they’d never be able to say. Exhaustion and panic and terror and—
The Knight snapped their eyes open and looked up just as their claws finally gave up and let go.
Falling.
(Again.)
They knew what falling felt like. They knew it too well.
The world rushing around you, faster and faster and faster, until everything’s a painful blur.
Weightless, but not in a good way. Weightless, in the way that drags you down.
Crying out without sound. Apparently, the wind can whip your voice away.
(Maybe that’s why they were born voiceless? Because they’ve always been falling?)
Reaching out, straining, desperate. Pleading with everything you have.
Only to be ignored. Your desperation left hanging in the air, dismissed.
You made it this far. But you didn’t make it all the way.
You were close, but not close enough. Good, but never good enough.
(They don’t even know where the line between “good enough” and “not good enough” is.)
Turned away from. Walked away from. Left to your fate.
You know what your fate is. You saw the others, one by one, fall to their fate.
(They still— even after all this time. Why? Why would he just let the others—)
(They’re next.)
Waiting for the inevitable. The landing. You know it’s coming. You know it’s going to hurt.
And yet, it still surprises you every time.
It’s going to hurt.
You’re not supposed to survive this.
It’s going to hurt.
Waiting. Limbo. Waiting. Falling.
(They’re scared. They don’t want to watch.)
But the universe won’t let them shut their eyes this time.
They made it all this way only to be left to fall. Unwanted. Back down to where they came from.
And it already hurts.
Hornet cast her needle to the side and managed to catch the falling vessel before it hit the ground. Now that she was holding it, she really couldn’t deny the fact that it was shaking. And staring off at nothing. It… certainly seemed as if it was panicking. Which wasn’t actually the case, of course; perhaps it had picked up on the mannerisms of a bug it had come across during its travels?
The hunter let out a small sigh. Either way, she was in the midst of this now. She had to do something to snap the vessel out of… whatever this was. Carefully, gently, Hornet sat down, shifted her cloak to the side, and adjusted her hold on the vessel in her arms. It barely responded to her touch, merely stiffening slightly when she moved it.
“Little Ghost?” Hornet tried. Her voice betrayed her uncertainty and she winced, quite thankful that there was only her and the vessel in the general vicinity.
No response. But after watching the vessel for a moment, she could tell that its breaths were coming in short, quick gasps—that was something she could start with. She took a deep breath and tried again, her voice much steadier this time.
“Little Ghost, you must control your breathing. You will faint if you keep this up. You have to slow down.”
Ghost was falling again. Maybe they’d never stopped falling in the first place? They braced themselves for the impact that they knew would come—
A voice. From somewhere. Ghost looked around, tried to identify its source, but everything was a blur. They were still falling.
The voice came again. Telling them they had to control their breathing, otherwise they would faint. Telling them they had to slow down.
But— they were falling. They couldn’t slow down until they hit the ground. They—
Oh. Breathing.
Ghost turned their focus inwards. Their chest was tight. Their soul was contorted with fear and pain, messing up the space inside, making it hard to breathe. It hurt to breathe.
But every breath hurt, didn’t it? Even if it was just metaphorical. A fight to survive the fall, to get back up and shake it off and breathe, because that’s all they had. Even if they died, over and over and over. And they had died. Over and over and over.
Why them? Why were they the one who, instead of joining their siblings after falling from the top of the Abyss, just inexplicably… came back? They weren’t quite sure why. All they knew was that they survived. And so every time they fell again, that’s what they did. They got back up. They shook it off. They breathed.
Because their siblings didn’t get that second chance. So Ghost did it for them.
They were falling, but they had to survive.
They had to breathe.
The Knight sucked in a shaky breath, their claws clenching into fists as they fought against instinct and panic to slow down. And they did it again. And again.
Ghost had to breathe. For the others. For themselves.
You can survive the fall. It’s going to hurt, but you can survive. Just breathe.
It seemed to be working. The vessel appeared to be grounding itself; Hornet could see it fighting to breathe normally. She kept talking, kept reminding it to breathe. She knew her voice was something it could latch onto. Something it could use to pull itself back into reality.
If the vessel hadn’t been in reality, then it had to have been lost somewhere, but Hornet wasn’t going to think about that right now.
She also wasn’t going to think about how she was feeling a sort of comfort from helping this creature.
She just kept talking.
The more Ghost continued to breathe, the more they began to ground themselves. The world slowed down around them. Weight returned to their body. They were no longer falling. They’d survived.
…There had been no impact. They’d stopped falling without hitting the ground. They— they hadn’t been back in the Abyss, had they? They’d simply missed a jump in the Fungal Wastes.
Still, they’d survived.
The voice was still there, though. Reminding them to breathe. Ghost stared at what was in front of them, brushed a hand over their mask, stared again. Red fabric. Someone was—
Oh. They recognized that voice. Recognized it a little too well, actually.
As quickly as they could manage in their current state—which was still quite fast—the vessel pushed themselves up, hopped backwards a step, and brandished their nail, the rusted metal sliding out of its sheath with a sharp shink. Their suspicion had been correct—in front of them sat Hornet, that bug they’d fought back in Greenpath. Ghost felt themselves settling into a defensive stance as they scanned her quickly and then glanced around for her trademark needle. The weapon lay on the ground just out of the hunter’s reach; not close enough to be an immediate threat, but not far enough to make the little shadow feel safe.
Ghost still hadn’t figured out what Hornet’s deal was. They knew she was a protector of Hallownest’s ruins, so getting challenged to a fight hadn’t been all that surprising. But the fact that they’d found the body of one of their siblings not far from where they themselves had been challenged… it just… made them uneasy. Something was going on here, something deeper than Hornet simply attacking an intruder, and it felt important. It had to be important.
The vessel and the hunter wordlessly studied each other, each judging if the other was a threat. Ghost made no move to attack, but they didn’t put down their guard either. While they had no plans on being the first to strike, they'd parry and strike back if things came down to it.
Why was Hornet here, now, of all times and places… Had she seen Ghost panicking? That would’ve been the perfect moment to strike; Ghost had been so lost in their memories, they hadn’t been aware of anything around them. Which wasn’t good. They had to be more careful in the future—no one had taken advantage of the moment this time, seeing as Ghost was still alive and whole, but next time they might not be so lucky.
After a moment, Hornet broke the silence. “Little Ghost, I mean you no harm. I was merely passing by when I saw you…” She paused, seeming to take a moment to find the right word. “...Falling. And I thought it best to assist you in grounding yourself.”
So she had seen Ghost panicking, then. But she hadn’t attacked. Instead, she’d reminded the vessel to breathe and helped pull them out of their memories and back into the real world. She’d likely caught them too, assuming Ghost had slipped off that ledge.
Well, then. Another piece to the confusing puzzle.
For all their current suspicion about the hunter and her motives, Ghost had to admit that they admired her. It was clear that Hornet took her job as protector seriously. But also, there was something… familiar about her. Like the feeling of their siblings. They couldn’t ignore something like that. And of course, the whole reason Ghost had even chosen to call themselves “Ghost” in the first place was because of Hornet.
Better that Hornet had been the one to see them panic instead of someone else. Ghost had been vulnerable, and Hornet had helped.
Slowly, the vessel relaxed their stance, sheathed their nail, and dropped their head in a bow. A silent “thank you.” The hunter returned the gesture, bowing back, and for that moment, the world was steady again. External threats faded away under the silent peace of trust.
Maybe… maybe Ghost could trust Hornet more than they’d initially thought.
Then the moment passed. Ghost raised their head and glanced around, once again blazingly aware of the fact that they could be attacked by an enemy at any moment. They should probably get moving. They began to turn to go, taking a step forward, before stopping and looking back at Hornet. Did she have anything else to say?
Hornet noticed the little shadow’s questioning stare, and she shook her head slightly. “You can… you can go.”
That was all the confirmation Ghost needed. They nodded once, then dashed back to the ledge they’d just fallen from. The mantis claw was still embedded in the stone not far above Ghost’s head. They reached up, jumped, grabbed it firmly in one hand. One sharp tug and they pulled it free. When they landed back on the ground, they glanced back at Hornet one more time. She’d stood and picked up her needle, and she was watching the vessel with a hopeful sort of curiosity.
As Ghost began to run through the caverns of Hallownest’s ruins, they couldn’t help but feel as though they’d be crossing paths with Hornet in the future. And maybe the next time they fell… she’d be there to catch them?
As Hornet watched the vessel run off into the caves, she knew they’d meet again. But… maybe letting her half-sibling live was the right thing to do.
It was the hopeful choice, after all.