We saw the Queen's rise and fall, shameful and tragic,
We heard the Wyrm's sacrifice, the act righteous, but eventually forgotten,
We felt the rise of the Monarchs, a shift in Hallownest's precious tranquility,
We tasted the Monarchs' corruption, flavorless, yet deceivingly warm and welcoming,
We smell our kingdom's dying corpse, rotting from the inside out, waiting for a savior that may never truly come,
And yet we wait. Wait for the clock of history to strike 12 once again."
-From "Citizen's Lament" by Sinclair The Poet
Chapter 1: The Old Queen's Request
Barthal knew he was dreaming. How could he not? Minutes earlier he had been sitting in front of the campfire he had set up on the border of the kingdom of Synghigh, now he was walking along some mountain trail and… was the path glowing?
Looking to his left, he saw strange formations in the rocks that resembled dream catchers. Each step he took made a loud echoing sound, which seemed to echo in his head. "This is peculiar", Barthal thought, running his claw along the side of the mountain, feeling the rock formations as he walked.
When he reached the top of the mountain, he saw a giant moth, sitting, slumped, on top of a crumbling stone throne. As he stepped closer to the moth, it sat upright, and he heard a faint, but echoing voice come from the giant moth. "I have been waiting for you, little one".
"Excuse me?", Barthal asked. "Well, I have spent years traveling across the Dream Realm, searching through the minds of random bugs to find one bug that I deem worthy enough to save my kingdom", the moth said. "Wait, you search through the minds of bugs? Isn't that incredibly rude and inappropriate?" Barthal asked, pointing accusedly at the moth. The moth looked off in the distance for a moment with a thoughtful look in their eyes, before looking down at Barthal again and saying "Yes, I suppose it is", in a brushing-off tone of voice. Barthal could tell that the moth wasn't going to show any kind of guilt for their actions, so he changed the subject. "Fine then. You mentioned a kingdom? Care to elaborate? The moth smiled. "Yes. You see, I used to be the Queen of a once beautiful underground kingdom. That is… until I got too carried away, causing me to become trapped in this Dream Realm and my beautiful kingdom to become corrupted", she said. "Hmm", Barthal said, crossing his arms "Sad story and all, but what does this have to do with me?". The moth looked at him with a slightly annoyed look in her eyes before saying "Well, isn't it obvious? I want you to save my kingdom", the moth said, standing up out of the throne and walking towards the edge of the mountain, motioning for Barthal to follow her.
Once Barthal was at her side, the moth turned her gaze toward the edge of the mountain. That was when platforms shaped like dream catchers appeared in front of them, leading off into the horizon. "Come along now", the moth said, as she started walking along the path. Barthal followed her.
The path ended at a floating stone platform that was covered in moss. At the center of the platform was a statue of another moth with some glowing object floating in front of it. "What is it?", Barthal asked, awed by the glowing object. "It is the one thing that you will need for your journey", the moth replied. "The Dream Nail". But I thought your kind were pacifists", Barthal said, recalling something he had read when he was much younger. "Yes. For the Dream Nail is not for combat. It can tap into the thoughts of any individual, or even enter the mind of someone who is directly connecting with the Dream Realm", the moth explained. This time not bothering to point out how senseless this was, Barthal walked up to the Dream Nail and slowly reached out his claw for it, and as he grabbed it, he was enveloped in a swirl of white, dotted with dream catchers. He then heard the moth say "Go Southwest! Save my kingdom! Save Hallownest!", then the sound of rushing wind filled his tympanals".
Barthal opened his eyes. He was back at his campsite on the border of Synghigh. "Was any of that real?", Barthal thought to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His question was answered when he saw a dream catcher symbol on his top-right arm beneath his claw. Intrigued, he touched the symbol. Barthal felt a strange tingling feeling spread from the symbol to his claw, and an edged, gleaming, white nail appeared in his hand with a hilt resembling a dream catcher. Barthal jumped slightly with surprise, which caused the blade to disappear. Barthal quickly recovered from his initial shock and stared at the symbol with awe.
It was a minute for two before Barthal remembered what the Dream Nail had been given to him for, but when he did remember, he was at first reluctant to risk his life for a kingdom he had never been to before, and he had never been one to lend a helping hand to someone for free. But, strangely, he felt something that he had rarely felt in the past. Obligation. So, grudgingly packing up his campsite and taking a quick look at his compass, Barthal started walking southwest towards the kingdom of Hallownest.