"I don't mind you hanging out, and talking in your sleep."
"Wh- No, I am not destroying my phone, Ophelia."
Chance, against his better judgement, was back at the Shaman's mound. After carrying the no-doubt exhausted Tusk like a baby all the way there(they were strangely light, so it didn't bother him too much), he had deposited the small bug down onto the bench where they could get some proper rest.
If Chance had his way, he'd never have to come back to this weird place again. But he had left a few items here that needed retrieving before he and Tusk continued on their journey. He'd left his phone here intentionally, but had also stupidly misplaced Iselda's nail here. It was a miracle that he managed to survive the battle with the False Knight without it.
He had gotten Iselda's(it felt disrespectful to refer to it as his own, especially after he forgot it here so carelessly) nail back easily enough.
His phone didn't go so easily.
"You don't understand! Your little box is cursed! " Ophelia shrieked, "It must be destroyed! It's dangerous!"
Chance would have facepalmed, but doing so would only have aggravated the already irate shaman. They hadn't broken his phone yet, but he was sure Ophelia was on the precipice of doing it regardless of his feelings.
"And what makes you say that?"
"It… does things on its own! I cannot control it! Spirits from within scream at me endlessly for blood!"
"When I came in here, I heard music playing from it. Are you sure you didn't accidentally play something and didn't know how to pause it?" More likely than not, Ophelia had just stumbled upon a metal song, or something similar.
Ophelia almost exploded at him, but bit their tongue, glancing away bashfully. It was understandable; the phone's technology was alien enough to the shaman that a mistake like that would be easy to make. Chance sighed; it probably wasn't a good idea to just leave it with Ophelia, who would obviously have no idea how to use it. And besides, he had held up his side of the bargain; kill the beast, False Knight, that gave them trouble, and he could get his phone back.
"Look, maybe if I get the time, I can come back and teach you properly how it works. It's not that complicated once you learn how."
"B-But-!" Ophelia stammered, struggling to vocalize the thoughts flying through their head at a mile a minute.
"It's fine," he stressed, "trust me. I know how my phone works, and I know it's not 'possessed by evil spirits' or anything."
Chance walked over to the bench, where Tusk had seemingly fallen asleep. Their eye-holes were still open, but their head was nodded over and they didn't seem to be moving. He carefully wrapped his arms around them and lifted him up, starting to get accustomed to carrying the child-like warrior around.
He glanced back; the shaman was strangely silent, refusing to look at him as they held their staff close to them. One hand held his phone out to him.
"I… wish you good luck on your travels," they mumbled.
Chance stared for a moment, before grinning.
"Thanks. I'll be sure to come back safely!" he said, and all too quickly, he had snatched the phone and left, leaving the shaman alone on their silent grounds again.
That "phone" was something otherworldly, that much was certain to them. The technology left even the Pale Wyrm's bizarre machinations behind in the dust. Its inner functionality was far beyond their comprehension, and yet…
There's definitely something off, Ophelia thought, unable to tear their eyes away from the place where Chance once stood. Something wrong.
I know there is.
Why won't you believe me?
"I don't think this is the way back to Dirtmouth."
Tusk had woken up from their nap not long ago, and since then had been nagging him endlessly, pulling him into a small cavern pathway they had walked past before. A sign stood in front of the entrance, but Chance couldn't make out what it meant; the symbol upon the sign was completely alien, made up of odd shapes. Despite this, he decided to trust Tusk's judgement in taking him here. Not that he had much of a choice anyway, with them grabbing onto the leg of his pants and dragging him along.
The cave was a pretty short one, and with some very simple decoration. It had the same brick masonry the False Knight's lair had, but there were no enemies, or anyone, in here. The only notable features Chance saw were the bench in the center of the room, and what looked like a… bell. A bell, on the far side of the cavern, amidst small piles of rubble.
Before Chance could ask anything, Tusk rushed forward and, drawing their nail, gave the bell a hard thwack.
Dingling~!
"Uh… very pretty bell you found-" Chance cut himself off when he heard it. A heavy rumble, shaking the earth beneath them. And it was growing louder. Chance could feel his heart pounding as the thunderous quaking became deafening, and a massive form practically flew in out of nowhere.
Chance stumbled back in surprise, rubbing his eyes to do a double-take. The thing that had just appeared in front of them was huge , almost as big as the False Knight. It looked like some type of massive beetle, standing on six legs and with a large, dark shell. A large horn stood proud in the center of its head, almost as tall as Chance himself, with a second similar protrusion stemming from its back. Strangely, it had what looked like a large saddle strapped on alongside it, with two rows of seats to accommodate passengers, and its face… was that a beard?
It gave a deep, guttural huff, and then spoke in an equally deep voice weary with age.
"Greetings, little one. I take it you would like to travel again?" The large creature looked down at Chance. "I see another is accompanying you. I extend my greetings to you as well, strange one."
"U-Uh, hi." Chance stammered.
The massive beetle chuckled. "Does my appearance intimidate you? Let it not. I mean only goodwill to you, and any others who travel along these stagways."
Stagways? As in, stag beetles? ...Odd, but it made enough sense to him. "A-T-Th-Thank you," Chance said. He still couldn't help but be nervous, especially as Tusk hopped up onto the beetle without hesitation, settling themselves down comfortably in one of the seats.
The stag beetle regarded him. "Well? Are you not going to ride with the little one?"
Chance blinked himself out of his awed stupor, muttering apologies as he approached the stag beetle. He had no idea what he was doing, but assumed it would be similar to riding a horse, except he had never ridden a horse before, and even if he had, he wouldn't remember it anyway. There was a small step on the beetle's side to help passengers climb up and down, so he hesitantly placed a foot there as he tried to get up. Unconsciously, he reached a hand up for something to help pull himself up, and his fingers ran over the stag beetle's chitin-
The bottomless width and breadth of a dark labyrinth the size of a kingdom.
Mindless turns, guided only by instinct.
A never-ending, day-and-night hustle of merchants and passengers, going to and fro.
I'm lost.
A forest of brilliant green.
A city darkened by rain.
I'm lost.
A nest.
Family.
I'm lost.
-yelped, and Chance flailed back in surprise, nearly falling backwards painfully into the brick floor before barely grasping onto the platform again, holding it tightly for dear life. The stag beetle and Tusk both looked back at him, concerned.
"Is everything quite alright?"
Chance's mouth went dry as he gasped for breath, his tongue twitching to vocalize the one word blazing at the forefront of his mind.
"S-...Styx…"
The stag beetle, Styx, was silent, but his eyes grew wide with recognition. "That name… Strange one, how did you…?"
"I-I don't know, I just…" So Ophelia's strange spell worked beyond the two of them? Much to his surprise, Styx started laughing, a deep and raucous, yet warm laugh.
"You truly are strange, strange one! I don't believe I've carried such an interesting passenger in many an age!"
All I did was find out your name, Chance thought, but accepted the compliment nevertheless as he finally managed to clamber up onto the stag's back and sat down in the seat next to Tusk.
"And please," he added, "My name is Chance."
It was a good thing the seats on Styx's back were as well-cushioned as they were. Otherwise, Chance didn't believe he'd have ever survived the ride to Dirtmouth.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-!"
Iselda sat behind the counter, leaning most of her body against it, in her small shop near the town square of Dirtmouth. Idly, her fingers tapped against the surface in random and benign patterns, while she kept herself occupied with random thoughts buzzing about her head, going to and fro. They danced about, some fizzling out just as quickly as they had appeared; a few stayed longer, lingering, whispering small, inconsequential thoughts throughout. They, too, would die eventually. There was only so much one could think about while stuck in this desolate town, even for one such as herself.
There were thoughts she did keep coming back to, however. Her dear Corny, for example. He was an experienced traveller and explorer, but she couldn't help but fret over his safety. He had often invited her to travel with him, but time and time again, she declined. She was a warrior, not an explorer, for the Pale Wyrm's sake! And yet, maybe she should join him in one of his expeditions sometime. Though on the other hand, that would leave the other residents of the town without protection from what lurked beneath the depths. The thought of Elderbug, and a few new residents, falling prey to whatever crawled underground… it tightened her resolve to remain behind.
The other thought she kept returning to involved the two enigmatic residents of the town; Chance and the... small one. She knew Corny could handle himself, but those two? She couldn't help but worry. The small bug may have fared well, but the 'hughmann'? He practically radiated his inexperience. In truth, he reminded her of Cornifer; inquisitive, sensitive, a taste of adventure. But he was also clearly a sheltered one, it was easy enough to tell. This world preyed on the weak, and it was a small wonder he had survived this far. If he would survive further was up to fate, or chance. A fitting name, she supposed. Someone truly lucky, or cursed.
And yet he still went out into the unknown, into the long dead husk of the forgotten kingdom. Not out of want, but of necessity. She had, briefly, considered traveling with the two, but it was not her role in this fiasco. She had a community to protect, and in her inmost thoughts, he was a lost cause, though she still held a faint hope for his survival. If it had been left up to her, he would have remained up in the relative safety of Dirtmouth, where he could try to fight off the infection. But alas, it wasn't her decision to make. If he was going to go on such a mission, she might as well support him.
Her antennae perked up slightly at the sound of several raps on the door. Were there even more new visitors in town? There were still plenty of homes left, and not enough residents.
"Come in." She called. The door quickly opened as response.
It wasn't a new batch of visitors, but rather, Chance and the small one. The small one, for its part, remained the same, uncaring shell as always, but Chance stood up, a bit more confidence in his posture, a bit stronger, not to mention a few new scars. At the very least, the spread of the infection throughout him hadn't progressed much; the orange in his eyes seemed a bit brighter than she remembered, but it was hard to tell.
"Y-You're back," she said to the two. She couldn't manage to say anything else, she was stunned nearly speechless.
Chance, seeing a familiar face, sighed, letting himself relax. There was that small alien she knew; it was good to see that the infected kingdom hadn't hardened him beyond recognition. "We, uh, decided to come back here for a bit."
"Taking a break from your adventure to say 'hi?'" Iselda joked, before her voice took on a more serious tone. "Did you… find...?"
Chance's tangerine eyes fell to the floor. "No," he said solemnly. "But we're making a little bit of progress. Again, we're just taking a quick breather before we go back down."
Of course he couldn't stay.
And yet, despite his situation, he still kept that gleam of hope somewhere in his orange eyes, hidden in his smile. Something about him just screamed "I'll be fine!" and she believed it.
"So… I remember you saying this was a shop, right?"
Iselda blinked. "Y-yes, what about it?"
"I mean… are you open?" Chance asked sheepishly.
Their reunion with Iselda had been brief, but Chance was just glad to see a familiar face again. Tusk was a good companion, but their mute-ness sometimes left him wanting for an actual conversation. Hopefully, he wouldn't start hearing voices in his head by the time they found a cure, or something.
If they found a cure, his thoughts betraying his optimism. Chance's smile wavered as they stepped out of Iselda's shop and waved their good-byes, but he forced that dark part of his mind down. They would find a cure. They had to.
Right?
Chance peeked into his bag to look at their purchases. It wasn't much, honestly; there was a quill for updating their maps as they explored(Iselda explained that apparently, it never ran out of ink. If that was true, the price definitely should have been a lot higher), and he had bought another one of those 'charm' things. He pulled the latter out of the bag and studied it. What was this one called again? 'Wayward Compass', right?
Unlike the other charm they found in the Shaman's mound, this one's purpose was a bit benign. As Iselda had put it, "It will whisper your location on a map, so as long as you're wearing it, you'll never be lost." Its appearance reminded him a bit of compass; eight silver separate spires pointing in the cardinal directions, underlaid by a dull red finish, not to mention a tad smaller than the Soul Catcher charm.
Curiously, he fastened the charm onto the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't feel any different, but maybe that wasn't the point. He pulled out his map, unrolling it and scanning it for any-
...Huh. That was definitely his face there. Oversimplified, monochrome, bordering on cartoonish, but it was unmistakably him. Strangely enough, he could also see Tusk's impression right next to his own. Did the charm intentionally track both of them, even if only he was wearing it? Either way, it could prove handy in case Tusk wandered off or-
As if on cue, Tusk's face shifted along the map, heading deeper into the village. Chance's head snapped up to see the little bug strolling aimlessly through the streets of Dirtmouth.
"H-Hey, wait up! You don't even know where I live!"
Home, sweet home.
The closest he'd get to a home anytime soon, at least. It was exactly how he had left it: a giant mess. Granted, it was considerably cleaner than it had been when he'd moved in, but some messes were just too heavily laid-in to fully clean. It didn't matter to him, anyhow. He came here to rest, and that's what he was going to do. He'd clean the rest up later.
Tusk, on the other hand, kept glancing around his house, admiring every detail, like a distant cousin visiting for the first time in ages. They curiously grabbed at everything that wasn't nailed down, but Chance noticed they were strangely gentle with what they touched, always making sure not to drop anything and to put it back when they were done. They did this with some small vases, portraits(none of them featuring anyone he knew), some books written in a language Chance couldn't read, and so on. He never realized just how fully-furnished his house was before now; it had a weird way of feeling emptier than it was.
His bag was deposited to the side in the small entryway, all of their new purchases still tucked within. Despite everything that it had gone through, it was still in surprisingly good shape, as well as its contents. The glass bottles of life blood must have been shatterproof as well, or he was just stupidly lucky that they didn't break.
While Chance was looking around himself for anything he might've missed that could come in handy on his journey, he felt a tugging on the leg of his pants. He glanced down to see Tusk holding a portrait that had been sitting on a wardrobe, of what appeared to be a small family of bugs. Chance studied the image, but couldn't find anything that stood out to him.
"No, I don't know these people."
Tusk tilted their head curiously.
"Why'd I have it, well, it was here when I moved in. I guess the previous owners didn't take much with them when they left."
Tusk seemed to understand the answer and went to put the picture back, leaving Chance along for a little while longer. He couldn't find anything useful-looking stashed away in the house, so he gave up on his search and went to his bedroom, collapsing on his back onto the sheets. It wasn't the most comfortable bed in the world, but compared to roughing it in the caverns of Hallownest, it felt like he was laying on a cloud.
He blinked, feeling the surface of the bed with an open palm. That was weird. Didn't he burn his old sheets?
His hand bumped into something that felt like paper. Glancing over, he saw there was a note lying on his bed, folded up and sitting atop the covers neatly. He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows, before snatching the note and unfolding it to give it a read-through.
...What the hell was he looking at?
Of course this world had a written language that was illegible to him. Come to think of it, it was practically a miracle that the spoken language was at least the same. But that wouldn't help him decipher this note.
Or maybe it would. He could ask one of the locals to decipher it for him, and maybe someone might have the patience to teach him how to read and write in… Hallownest-ian? Hopefully, there wasn't anything personal in this note. He didn't need to make anything awkward with Dirtmouth's sparse residents, seeing as how he'd never be able to avoid them.
There was the pitter-patter of footsteps like soft rainfall coming into his room, and he glanced over to see Tusk climbing up onto his bed. Chance scooched over to give them more room.
"What's up?", he asked. Tusk was holding a small book, which they held out for him to see. Chance reached out to take it out of their hands - carefully, he had no idea how old this thing was - and gave it a look over. The cover and spine were both bare aside from a solid red color that had faded over the years, but opening it up, he found it filled with drawings, likely once as colorful as a brilliant rainbow, but now faded into dull shadows of their past selves. Accompanying the images were text in the same language as the note he had just tried to read.
He closed the book up and handed it back to the bug. "No, Tusk, I can't read this."
Tusk looked down at the book in their hands, before glancing back up at Chance, tilting their head curiously.
God, this little thing was adorable.
"Like, I literally can't read it. I don't know how," Chance explained. "It's in a different language." Tusk glanced down at the book again, flipping through some of the pages, before holding it out to Chance again. They were as mute as always, and their expression was unchanging, but something in their eyes seemed to make their message clear enough.
Try?
Chance regarded Tusk for a moment, before slowly reaching out to take the book again, which was practically shoved into his arms. Opening it up again to the first page, he noticed that the pictures took up far more space on the pages than the next did. And while he didn't understand the calligraphy of Hallownest's written language, the text seemed clearer and more defined than the note he had just tried to read. It also seemed a lot simpler, somehow; maybe only a few short sentences a page.
Was… was this a children's book?
Tusk was still staring at him expectantly as he flipped through more pages, seeing the same patterns throughout the entire book.
"D… Do you… Do you want me to read this to you?"
Tusk nodded. Chance grimaced down at the frustratingly unreadable text. If it was a children's book, then even if he couldn't read it, he could probably just… make something up? He could just go off of the pictures.
"...Alright. I'll do what I can."
Tusk flopped down next to him suddenly, making Chance jerk his arm away. Tusk only leaned into the side of his chest, snuggling close to him. Chance slowly brought his arm back down, wrapping it around Tusk's body as they cuddled.
Heheh, 'cuddlebug'.
Chance whipped out his phone and tapped around to a random song, something relaxing for him to read to. A soft piano echoed softly through the bedroom as Chance flipped to the first page and began reading.
"And, if the snow, buries my… my neighborhood…"
"Long ago, there were five great heroes of the land. They were, erm, very loyal to the brilliant King, in all his, uh, brilliance."
"And if… My parents are crying…"
"The first one was, uh, Hair Lady. She wielded a great nail to strike down evil, and told fantastic tales of her adventures."
Tusk buried their head just a little deeper into Chance.
"Then I'll dig a tunnel, from my window to yours…"
"The next knight was, uhh… Let's just make up a name for her, let's call her Silver. Silver was a generous soul, but fierce, and a powerful fighter. She would protect a, uh, Holy Tree, with her formidable strength.
"Yeah, a tunnel... from my window to yours…"
"The third knight was… I-Is that-...?!"
"You, climb out the chimney, and meet me in the middle…"
Chance managed to refocus from his shock. "U-Uh, the third knight was the, uhm, the Metal… Mountain. Yeah, the Metal Mountain was a very, er, quiet being, and loved to make his friends laugh."
"The middle of the town…"
Chance started to feel himself grow sleepy. "The, ah, fourth knight was, her name was R-Rose, right. She could, uh, split the Red Sea- green sea? Green sea, with her water powers, and was very kind to all who met her.
"And since, there's no one else around…"
Tusk probably dozed off at this point, but there was no real way to tell. "The fifth knight was, o-oh, uhm, he was the, er, Dung-Man. He was very loyal to the brilliant King, and was, uh, he was always followed by a very, er, problematic smell."
"We let our hair grow long…"
"Together the Five Great Knights protected the kingdom and, ah, saved the world. Hooray…"
Chance yawned, finally closing the book and feeling his eyelids grow heavy.
"And forget all we used to know~!"
Chance couldn't stay awake any longer, and felt his head nod forwards-
-into her white, fluffy chest. He felt the canoe rock under him as he struggled to get balanced again so that he could stand back up, but just as he tried to lift his head, a soft and fuzzy hand - it felt like a hand - rested on his head, holding him close.
"Shhh…"she whispered soothingly. He couldn't help but blush at the closeness, as well as his own clumsiness that had gotten him here, but felt himself calm down all the same. He let himself bury his face into her fluff; it carried the scent of sunflowers and tangerines. His arms, grappling the edges of the boat for stability, slowly moved up to wrap around her waist, holding her closer. Her hands ran through his hair, playing with it as her fingers danced over his scalp, petting him like a dog.
"What you seek is yours for the taking…"she murmured softly, her voice resonant like an angel's. "You only need to find it… It is out there, you simply must search for it…"
Chance's eyes opened, but he didn't move. What did she mean? He wasn't seeking anything. Everything he wanted was right here, in his arms.
"Find it… Now, go."
With that, she shoved him off of her. She was far stronger than she seemed on the surface; Chance fell backwards, tripping over a seat of the boat, and hitting the back of his head-
-on the bed's headboard.
Chance yelled, seething in pain as he clutched the back of his head. Not the best way to wake up in the morning. He doubled over, rolling off the side of the bed and hitting the floor with a thud. Tusk woke up and leapt to their feet, standing on top of the bed with their nail drawn, ready to fend off any intruders, before seeing Chance on the floor groaning. He suddenly jumped up to his feet as well, still holding his head but with a frenzied look in his orange eyes.
"Wegottagobackdown," he said quickly, breathing heavily in between his feverish bursts of speech.. "Gottagobackdown, gottagobackdown, It'sdowntheresomewhereI know it-"
He leaned up against a wall, clenching both of his hands behind his head, before spinning around to face Tusk. "It's down there," he said, no hint of calmness in his words, but at least he was speaking clearly now. "It's down there, the cure, it's gotta be down there somewhere, I can't stop now, I have to keep- I have to keep going, I can't stop, I gotta- I- I can't stop now, I can't stop, I-"
"Can't stop, addicted to the shindig~!"
Chance nearly leapt out of his skin at the voice. He didn't even realize his phone was playing music, sitting on a small bedside table. He groaned and walked over, fumbling as he picked it up and paused the music. Before shoving it in his pocket, his eyes glanced across the screen, and his body tensed up.
"D-Dammit!" he exclaimed. "I left it playing all night, and it's almost dead!" Sure enough, the battery icon was a firm red, the number beside it reading 7%. He'd have to figure out how to charge it. He'd have to; his entire life, his past, his memories, were all on this tiny device somewhere.
But he'd already made his decision. His future was more important than his past, at least for right now. Chance couldn't contain a frustrated grunt, however, as he slid it into his pocket.
He turned to face Tusk.
"...Good morning to you, too."
Tusk said nothing.
Preparations for a second trip into Hallownest's depths were much simpler this time around. To start off, he removed the jars of lifeblood from his bag and set them on the counter. They weren't entirely unscathed; some cracks had formed on them, doubtless from his fall, but they held. Why they didn't shatter would remain a mystery, but it left him the luxury of not needing to clean the bag or find a new one.
Now that he had learned focusing, the lifeblood had become pretty much obsolete. Its main draw, the near-instantaneous healing of wounds, was outclassed by his new technique in spades. No need to carry jars, and no worrying about running out of soul(right?), brought forth by mental focus.
Of course, it wouldn't work if he couldn't concentrate (or if he was unconscious), so he looked through to find which bottle was the least damaged, and stowed it away in his bag. He didn't need to carry his entire supply, but just a single bottle wouldn't hurt.
Better safe than sorry, after all.
Another matter he concerned himself with was the acquisition of clothing. His current pair was all sorts of dirty; slashed, ripped, stained, just to name a few issues. What was arguably worse was the fact that he didn't have any other suitable replacements. He was in a world of bugs, many not even bothering with clothing, and the few that did stuck with loose cloaks. Besides, the proportions were all off. Unless he found a seamstress or something similar, he was stuck with what he had. If he couldn't fix it, the next best thing would be to get something to put over them. A cloak like Tusk's or Elderbug's, perhaps.
Unfortunately, he had no such luck finding one. Well, he did find such a cloak, but it was much too large for him. Horizontally, not vertically. If he had to guess, its original owner was… very round, in a manner of speaking. So back to square one...
No solutions came to mind, and no other articles of clothing could be found. He would have to rely on his own clothing, wouldn't he? On the bright side, they'd probably hold up for a while still; industrial manufacturing of clothing did have its advantages. He'd make do for now.
The last, and most important preparation was simple in theory, but difficult in execution. Where to search next.
Chance had spent the past half hour updating their initial map to the best of his ability, but their next destination just refused to manifest. The gaps in his memory didn't help, as well as never having used an ink and quill before. As a consequence, his cartography attempts turned out shaky and messy; every line was permanent, every mistake refusing to come out. It was somehow functional, but horrid to look at.
Tusk had watched from his side as he labored over the map. Occasionally, they would point out an area or exit Chance had forgotten, and in one instance, had snatched the quill from his hand to quickly scribble in two whole new sections; a large space under the lowest path, and a second, minor shaft to the right of the vertical section next to the stag station. (Tusk's lines were far neater than his, of course.)
Even with the updates, the two of them were as stumped as they were beforehand. There were a few passages they hadn't explored, so maybe they could poke around them? Elderbug and Iselda called the place the Forgotten Crossroads, right? Crossroad implied it was simply an intersection, or at the very least, a roadway between places.
And it certainly looked that way; there were just too many places they could look, but which one would yield results? Perhaps Elderbug knew of something? While the ink on the map dried, they might as well ask. Maybe they could ask Iselda as well; surely she knew something too.
Getting up from his seat by the table, Chance stretched slightly, his back popping a small bit. "I'm gonna take a walk and ask some of the others if they can just isn't clicking for me."
Tusk nodded, understanding. They plucked the quill off the table and shifted the map over to them. Chance gave the bug a small, tired smile for a second before opening the door to Dirtmouth's cold winds.
Chance pulled his scarf over his face, feeling his eyes tear up in the wild winds. Weather was weird as hell up here, in the sense that it rarely ever changed. There were no cozy summer nights, no dry winter afternoons, no rainy mornings in the spring or brisk evenings in autumn. The town of Dirtmouth, as well as its surroundings for as far as he could see, only ever had two states: windy, and more windy.
He squinted his eyes as he turned his gaze to the inky black sky, devoid of stars. Was it possible that this entire area was under some kind of a colossal 'roof'? It was the only explanation he could think of for the lack of both stars and a day-night cycle. Maybe Hallownest was under a mountain.
Shaking his head, he started towards Iselda's. But, just a few paces away from the door, a crash echoed out through the town.
Chance tensed up at the sudden sound, whipping his head back to look where the sound had come from. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the norm, but he could just barely see a soft, pale glow in one of the house's windows. Was there someone else here? Or maybe that was Elderbug's house.
Either way, that crash sounded bad, he thought to himself as he turned around and approached the house. Whoever's in there, I'd better make sure they're okay.
He gave the door a gentle knock. There was only grumbling to be heard on the other side of the door, but the voice definitely didn't sound like Elderbug's. Chance timidly placed a hand on the door and pushed-
Dingalingaling~!
The first sight that hit him was the small bug in the center of the room, even smaller than Tusk, trying to pick up and organize a box of various items and trinkets that had been strewn across the floor.
Also, holy shit, its eyes were twice the size of his fist.
"A-Ah!" the bug exclaimed at Chance's appearance. "I'm sorry, we aren't open at the moment. Could you come back in, say, about fifteen minutes?"
Oh. This wasn't a house, it was a store.
"Uhm, do you need any help cleaning that up?" Chance asked politely, still hiding a good portion of his form behind the door.
"Nonsense!" the shopkeeper exclaimed. "What type of entrepreneur can't handle their own wares? I appreciate the offer, but I'll be just fine, thank you." He shoved a few more items into a box, closing a lid on top of it.
Chance was silent for a moment, still standing halfway in the door frame. "Uh… If I may ask, who are you? I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?"
"I'm Sly," the bug answered simply, as he tucked away the last of his trinkets into the box and heaved it onto a nearby shelf. "If you don't know me, then it's you who is new here, friend. Usually, I live an uneventful life up here in Dirtmouth. I recently had a brief… excursion, into the ruins below, but I met a small knight down there who helped me come home. You must've arrived here somewhere in that time frame."
Sly was awfully observant, it seemed. As for that small knight he mentioned… Hadn't Tusk jumped down the well before he had?
"That… sounds about right to me," Chance said. "My name's Chance. It's nice to meet you, Sly."
"And as with you, friend. Now, do you happen to have any Geo on you?"
Chance's small smile fell. Geo? Oh, right, shopkeep. "Uh… no?"
"Then what about that pouch on your hip there?"
Chance blinked, unsure what he meant, until he pawed around his hips. Lo and behold, there actually was a pouch there, attached to the waist of his pants. It looked identical to the Geo pouch Tusk had pulled in and out of some pocket dimension down in the Crossroads; was it somehow linked to him as well, now?
Chance had several questions, but did not vocalize them.
He pulled it off his waist, weighing it in his hands. Six hundred and seventy-four Geo. Exactly. He didn't know how he knew that, but it just felt like six hundred and seventy-four. The thought of the number felt almost intrusive, though, as if it were forced into his mind.
"Well, have a look at my wares, why don't you? If you're planning a trip below, I've several items that may improve your chance of survival." That sounded promising. Chance glanced around at a display of items for sale that Sly had set up.
And of course, his enthusiasm dampened with every item in the list. A single rusty key, bent and warped beyond use. Two tiny charms. A literal rancid egg that made Chance want to vomit. The lantern looked handy, though. It had been pretty dark down in the depths below.
"Interested in the Lumafly Lantern, are you? I guarantee, that lantern will light your way through even the thickest darkness."
"I'll take it."
"That'll be eighteen hundred Geo, please."
Chance nearly hit the floor. E-Eighteen hundred… That was more than double, almost triple, what he even had on him. He pursed his lips in resignation. He'd have to come back here for that once he had the money. Until then…
"A-Actually, I'll take the, uh… what would you recommend?"
"How about the Gathering Swarm charm? I imagine you pass plenty of forgotten Geo while traipsing underground. With this charm, it will find its way to you, which you can then spend here. A mutually beneficial purchase for the both of us."
Chance blinked. Now that did sound rather useful, even if Sly expected more business from him. "Y-Yes, please."
"Three hundred Geo, please." His wallet would take a blow, but it was a much more reasonable price than the lantern. Chance counted out the Geo and Sly placed the small charm in the palm of his hand.
It was about as large as the Traveler's Compass, and showed a small, stylized fly hovering over a piece of geo, both a bright silver. A bronze shell acted as a background, giving it a segmented look.
"If you're strapped for Geo for that Lumafly Lantern, I'm sure this will help you earn what you need."
Chance gave the charm another look. He didn't even have any idea what this thing actually did ; having 'forgotten Geo find its way back to him' was a pretty vague description, but he couldn't muster the guts to ask for a refund. "T-Thank you?"
"You're very welcome. Do come back when you find the time!"
"Right... I'll be... seeing you around, then." With that, Chance turned to leave.
He was almost out the door before Sly said, "Stay safe out there."
"R-Right," he repeated, nodding quickly. With that, he stepped back onto the streets of Dirtmouth, charm still in his grip. He let out an involuntary shiver at the sudden shift of temperature; the wind chill was brutal, even with his (by Hallownest's standards) heavy clothing. Did bugs feel the chill, actually? And if they did, was it painful? Were bugs even warm blooded, or blooded at all? Seeing how the denizens of the town dressed, they had to have some sort of cold resistance.
That was besides the point, though. Meeting Sly was good and all, but he still had an errand to run.
"Ah, so you have finally decided to say hello," Elderbug said. He and Chance were seated on the metal bench, still under the streetlamp, "I presumed you had forgotten about me."
"Well… we may have, just a little," Chance responded, somewhat sheepishly. In truth, he and Tusk hadn't even seen him since they got back, so he had just assumed he was elsewhere. "A lot has happened."
"So I've heard from Iselda, but I wish to hear it from you."
And so Chance explained. Their initial foray into the Crossroads, the ambush by the infected flies, the hot springs, their failed first fight against the False Knight, Ophelia, his focus, and finally, their victory over the wretched bug. Elderbug was quite the polite audience as well, occasionally nodding, interjecting a question every once in a while, and at the mention of his focus, politely asked for a demonstration.
"Ah… I see," he muttered, "You and the little ghost really have accomplished plenty. And in such a short time as well."
"I guess you could say that…" Chance mumbled. The praise did make him a mite uncomfortable, though it may have been a bit justified.
"Nonsense, my boy!" The Elder heartily said, patting him on the back, "You've already survived more than most that venture down there."
"Thanks, I guess." He idly kicked a loose rock, "But what about you? How has life been up in Dirtmouth?" While his own stories may have been a bit more… grandiose, hearing about the hum and bum life up here would surely be a nice distraction.
"It has certainly been much more lively," Elderbug started, "But truthfully, I've enjoyed the company. It may not seem much to one as well traveled as himself, but to an old bug, it is a blessing."
"I see… I think I get what you mean, actually," Elderbug had been alone for who knows how long here. Iselda and Cornifer had arrived before Tusk and himself, but not by much, maybe a few months at most. Who knows how long Elderbug had been alone here, waiting silently for others. It was…a somber thought. "I can't imagine what it would be like to be alone here."
Elderbug sighed, "Don't. Some thoughts are best left in the past."
"I guess…"
"Did you need something?"
Chance sputtered, "Wha- No, no…" a look sent his way by him caused him to look down into his lap, "Yes."
A gentle chuckle escaped Elderbug, "You younger folk, always the same. Ask away."
"Well…" He took a breath, "Tusk and I may have run into a… dead end, with our exploration. I was wondering if you knew anywhere else we could look."
"Hm… now that is quite a predicament." a hand was brought to his mask, "I may know something…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully, before he seemed to hit an idea.
"Before any of you showed up, travelers would occasionally pass through this town," Elderbug explained. "While many would simply disappear, a few would come back up to Dirtmouth. Before them, I used to think the kingdom below was all dead cold rock, but I've since been told differently. They speak of startling variety in Hallownest's caverns, and a few have told me that just besides the Crossroads, there is an area full of leafy green plants. Perhaps you could look there next."
Chance blinked, a smile coming across his face, "That's great! Thank you!" Though his smile did slip a little, "How, uh, do we get there?"
"Now that is a good question," Elderbug went silent for a moment, "...If my memory serves me correctly, there is an entrance to the area in the Great Shaft."
That place… Yeah, that was going to be anything but fun.
"Thank you, Elderbug," Chance said, standing up to make his way back to his(and now Tusk's) house. "I mean it."
"Always happy to help, Chance," he paused for a moment, "And thanks for talking with me. Not many do."
Chance and Tusk's departure back into the depths of Hallownest went off with little fanfare. A few muted farewells from Iselda, a grunt from Sly, and a wave from Elderbug. It wasn't much, but it was all the two needed. Or, what Chance needed. Tusk didn't seem to care for the meager sendoff, or maybe they just had trouble emoting their thoughts on the matter. In the long run, it probably didn't matter.
All of that out of the way, they quietly walked down the streets of Dirtmouth, back to the well. They stopped just short of the drop, gazing into the depths below.
"Back into the belly of the beast, eh?" Chance said, trying to break the silence. Tusk mutely noded, with the heavy weight of the silence draping over his shoulders yet again.
Back into the dead, decaying, infected, body of Hallownest. They had a new lead, but would it pan out in the end? And if not, then what? He wasn't sure about Tusk, but something told him they would soldier on regardless. But himself? More likely than not relegated to a futile life up in Dirtmouth, waiting for the sickness in him to render him a husk of his former self? Put down like an animal? Killing someone before that happened?
...Perhaps it was best not to think about. The battle is first won in the mind, right?
Tusk made the first move, jumping fearlessly into the empty air. They quickly disappeared into the darkness, as if they had never stood beside him. As for him, the accursed chain. One of these days, he would need to figure out how the Knight could just shrug off such falls. Until then…
The blasted chain, and the depths below, awaited.
Chapter name and summary are a reference to Just What I Needed by The Cars.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Styx (artist)
Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) by Arcade Fire (A request by a reviewer on FFN)
Can't Stop by Red Hot Chili Peppers
First off, about that song request: I'm not going to accept very many of these. I only did it this one time simply because I decided "Hey, why not, might make someone's day". I might do this a few more times in the future, but try to keep song requests to a minimum. Maybe it was a mistake to accept this one, I don't know. Just keep it cool, alright?
This chapter was fun as hell to write. It was good to take a break from the whole "gloomy wandering and battle" thing and have a more slice-of-life type chapter. We got this chapter done in what's probably record time, though editing took a few more days than planned.
That said, I think we may take a very very brief hiatus on this story, probably just for a week or two. Just for us to take a bit of time to catch up with real-life stuff, as well as work on some personal projects of ours.
Oh, and another thing: as a stupid little gimmick, I made a Spotify playlist of all the musical references we've used so far! The rules are simple; if I reference a song, I'll add that plus maybe any related tracks that are kinda cool. Albums will get 1-2 tracks, and artists will get 3-4. I styled it after Chance's playlist("Nice" with a screaming cat icon). It's a bit short now, but believe me when I say that it will grow much larger as the story goes on.
I would post a link here, but sadly, FFN doesn't like that kind of thing. It's available on the AO3 version of this story, however.
Thank you for reading, please leave a comment and we'll see you next chapter~!
