"Dead man lying by the side of the road, with the daylight in his eyes."

(if you didn't see in the last chapter of Midnight Rider, we now have a Discord server! invite link is at the end of this chapter!)

CW: some (continued) disturbing imagery about dismemberment


...Oh-

Huhuhuhuhu. No, I'm afraid our time is up, love.

This will have to wait for later.

Mayhaps we would have had more time had we…

...No, this discussion was important. I'm glad we were able to talk.

I hope to see you again soon, love~


Somehow, people were still screaming when he woke up.

Something told him he was still in the Wastes. He tried to open his eyes, only to be momentarily blinded by a lumafly lantern cast over his face. The shadow of a face obscured the light from view, saying words that only reached him as a droning warble.

The next thing he felt was the pain in his arm.

Fun fact: Mantis medics don't use anesthetic.

Chance wanted to cry. Sleep did nothing to ease the burning agony in his arm; even through the blinding pain, he could still feel the sloppy, rushed stitches keeping his arm on, all wrapped up in some kind of primitive gauze. Even if they were re-attached on the outside, the inside was still cut open, and all he could feel below his mid-upper-arm was phantom pains and the slickness of blood. Like cutting a loaf of bread in half, and trying to put it back together with scotch tape so it didn't get stale.

Tears were welling up in his eyes before he'd even fully opened them. Trying to squeeze them out, he gave a weary look around the room, vision blurred.

"wht d y mn, hs lrdy wkng p?!"

The voices were muddled, but there were voices, several of them. Mantises, it looked like; he was lying on his back on a bed, in a moderately large room, surrounded by Mantises that seemed to be panicking over something. More stood outside the door, next to which a large, oak-green cloak was hung up on a hanger.

"...llow me. No telling… how... will respond."

With a deep, shaky breath, Chance opened his eyes fully. Mantis medics, some covered in splotches of (his) red blood, stood around nervously. A much taller one approached him - Rosanna, he could feel the Mantis Lord's name whispered into his mind. She stood by the bedside, leaning over him to get a good look at his beaten, bloody, defeated expression.

"Good morning, Trickster," she spat.

He immediately tried to punch her in the face.

He didn't hit her very hard, of course; he still felt like a rung-out wet rag. But, he managed to catch her off-guard, his sloppily-thrown fist colliding with her lower jaw. Rosanna only flinched from the impact, more startled by him having done anything at all than from the actual blow itself. Chance, on the other hand, seethed in thinly-veiled agony from jostling himself around too much, and his fist quickly flew to his injured arm.

Mantis medics tried to step forward to ease the situation. Rosanna wasn't one to be held back, however, and raised an arm threateningly, "You ungrateful-!"

She froze. Chance's hand was curled around his severed arm, faint pale wisps floating through his fingers. He could feel the stitches unravel themselves as his skin and flesh patched itself together, the strings being forced outward and falling to the floor in a lump with his bandages. He couldn't keep his hands from shaking as he gave a weak flex with his uninjured left arm, whole again.

Rosanna eyed him up and down, her dark irises meeting his tangerine ones. A long, tense moment passed between the two of them. Finally, she scoffed, lowering her arm as she glanced away. "Tch. That is how you gather Soul, I suppose."

(She didn't realize that he gained back Soul in his sleep, and he was already full. He decided not to tell her this.)

She waved at all the other Mantises. "Clear out. No use standing around any longer, he will patch himself up on his own." Slowly, one by one, the crowd of Mantises filtered out of the room, casting nervous glances to the still awfully beaten-up human! laying in the bed behind them, who only stared on, rubbing his arm anxiously.

(it burned. It burned. It burned it burned it burned it burned it burned-)

Rosanna turned to look at him as she stepped through the doorway, a flat glare on her face. "I do hope your manners will return to you by the time you leave my bed."

Her words - and their implications - hit Chance like a splash of hot coffee to the face. He startled, pulling up the covers closer to him, trying to curl himself up into a ball and hide forever. Rosanna had thankfully already left the room, and didn't see his flustered face. The door to the bedroom, a Mantis Lord's bedroom, closed itself, and Chance let himself collapse into the pillows in exhaustion.

...Where was Tusk? Were they already? What about Rio and Jeremy? He knew he needed to find them, figure out where to go from here, but… He could barely move. He felt like sleeping for the next decade and then some. He felt so numb.

(itburneditburneditburneditburneditburneditburned-)

...He didn't even notice the cloak hangar falling over until it hit the ground with a thud.

Chance jumped, his nerves alight. He froze, staring at the shifting mass of cloth on the floor. Slowly, pulling the covers away from him, he crept over to where the green cloak lay on the ground. The cloak shuffled and groaned, with distinct voices coming from it.

"Ugh- Get off of me, you lazy oaf!"

"Y-Y-You're on top of me!"

Chance frowned. He knew who those voices belonged to by now. Grabbing the edge of the cloak, he pulled it up to reveal a prone Rio, huddling on top of Jeremy, who was… still wearing a second cloak, underneath the one they were already hiding under.

Rio looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Ah, Chance! Good to see you're still alive! Where is the little one?", she asked as he tried to pull her up (mindful of her sharp arms). As she clambered up, she shoved Jeremy's head into the floor, stunning him briefly. ("Unf-!")

"Tusk? I… don't know. They were with me, but I... fell unconscious…"

Rio laughed with some bitter amusement as she stepped over Jeremy's dizzied form. "Unconscious? You had your arm lobbed off! After dueling the Lords of the Mantis Tribe, you should be thankful to still be breathing!" She walked past him, stretching out after having been in that cramped corner for… how long was she back there with Jeremy, anyway?

While Rio's back was turned, Chance took the opportunity to help Jeremy up, glancing down at his weary form-

...Something caught his eye. Chance froze.

A hand, but not a human hand. Peeking out from underneath Jeremy's sleeve, a single thin paw(?), covered in a light, white fur and a thicker, cream-colored mane by the wrists. Neither human, nor the black chitin he was used to seeing by now.

Something flashed over his eyes. Chance felt dizzy. He staggered backwards, running a hand over his head as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. Rio heard it creak under his weight, and looked back to see him clutching at his forehead, Jeremy having managed to stand up on his own by now. "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Chance lied, "I just… I just had this… crazy dream."

"Oh!", Jeremy exclaimed, his disguise up again. "I heard dreams can be an important reflection of your mental state! What was yours?"

Chance laughed, an airy and humorless laugh. "I dunno. I can't… I can't remember a thing."


His bruises still stung, but he'd managed to patch up the worst of his injuries. Now, looking like he'd only gotten mugged instead of butchered, Chance took a deep, slow breath, pressing his hands against the door to Rosanna's bedroom, and with a heave, pushed it open.

It was… surprisingly cleared out. A handful of medics, but the only thing that caught his eye was one of the Mantis Lords leaning up against the opposite wall, waiting for him to step out. Cecelia, not Rosanna this time. She glanced up when she noticed him, pushing herself off the wall to approach.

"Trickster…" She froze, looking off to the side, struggling to find the right words. Not just for him, but for her as well; the words that would be best for him to hear, weren't necessarily the best for her to say, as a Lord with a reputation to uphold. "Have you… recovered sufficiently?"

Chance blinked, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "I'm… fine, yeah. Er…"

He wasn't sure where to go from here. A part of him, honestly, had expected to die in that arena. But despite everything, he'd stumbled past, but now he only felt somehow lost. He… supposed he was at the Mantises' mercy now? He was surprised they hadn't just killed him in his sleep, and he wasn't sure yet if he should be grateful for that.

"Well… Perhaps now is not the time for…" She trailed off, and her awkward, sideways glance turned into a glare. "Is… is that you, Rio? What do you think you are doing?"

The green bundle of cloak behind him, with Jeremy still hiding underneath it, crossed its arms as Rio huffed. "Only ensuring my friend here is okay," she said, throwing an arm around Chance's shoulders. "Her" feet stumbled from the sudden movement, threatening to give out. "After all," she continued, "us Infecteds have to look out for each other, do we not? Gods know nobody else will."

Cecelia only stared at her, expression unreadable. She opened her mouth to retort, but couldn't think of the right words. "Well… perhaps I should be escorting you out of the Village now, Trickster." Her brow furrowed just the slightest bit at his title; she probably wasn't comfortable using it for some reason. "It may be obvious, but you have been henceforth banished from all territories belonging to the Mantis Tribe. It is only my duty to lead you to our borders."

Something in Chance's chest fell at her words, but he couldn't say he was surprised. It was the least they could've done to him. "I… understand," he forced out. "...Lead the way."

Cecelia only nodded, motioning for him to follow her out of the Village. Rio stumbled around, hissing something at Jeremy, who quickly moved to tag along with Chance and the Mantis Lord.


...

"...No, not you, Rio. You're not exiled yet."

"Oh."

...


"So that's it, then."

Chance stood just beyond the Village's boundaries, standing right on the line he could never cross again. Eyes to his feet, he shuffled uncomfortably. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to look Cecilia in the eye, couldn't look Rio in the eye. Her cloaked form, with Jeremy still hiding underneath, stood close to him, as though she were exiling herself along with him. He didn't know why she would. He'd failed.

"...For… what it is worth," Cecilia started slowly. Something told him that the Mantis Lord was looking around for any eavesdroppers before speaking. She seemed concerned for her reputation like that. "I am sorry. Sorry that we could not help you. Sorry, that you had to suffer so."

Chance only had the energy to shrug. "'s fine," he mumbled.

...His brow furrowed as he suddenly felt… frustrated. What'd he come here for, anyway? What was he trying to accomplish? A cure? What made him think there'd be anything helpful down here? What makes him think there's anything helpful, anywhere underground in this damn kingdom?

He just wanted to rest. He just wanted to go back up to Dirtmouth, crawl into bed and fall asleep. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep in his bed, back home, his real home. Not Hallownest, but wherever he was before this. He just wanted to be okay. He was tired. It was so tempting to let his knees buckle and collapse into the dirt. He was tired.

It was so tempting.

"Well…" Cecilia said hesitantly, "...Perhaps I ought to take my leave-"

Something sick surged through Chance's body, rising up his chest and through his throat. He doubled over, collapsing to his knees as he coughed uncontrollably. He was vaguely aware of Rio and Cecilia startling, before the former reached out to try and pat his back assuringly.

His throat burning, Chance finally stopped coughing, pulling away to see vibrant, orange specks covering his hand. "F-Fuck, it's getting worse-" he tried to force out before he coughed again. Cecilia took several steps back to prevent any Infection from reaching her. With heavy breaths, Chance stood on shaky knees, struggling to see through his watery eyes.

"I- Chance?" A new, but familiar voice tried to speak up from behind him. "Chance, are you alright?"

He turned around slowly, leaning somewhat on Rio for support. "Q...Quirrel?" And…

Tusk was curled up, a small bundle in Quirrel's arms, their face buried in his chest. Quirrel took two steps closer, and one step back; eyeing the Mantises nervously, he decided the safest distance was right where he was. Chance sighed with exhausted relief as he staggered over to where Quirrel stood, and gently took Tusk into his own arms.

"T-Tusk…" He felt himself seize up. Tusk, stoic and unchanging Tusk, was crying. Inky black tears ran down their pale mask, leaving dark stains behind on their face and on Chance's shirt as he pulled them into a crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," he begs. He isn't sure what he's apologizing for. "I'm sorry." It was such an easy thing to say, sometimes.

Cecilia looked away, her body strangely tense. "I… I should take my leave," she says all too quickly, and then she's gone, two steps away and she vanished into the wind. Rio only blinked at the spot where the Mantis Lord once stood, before she looked back over to Chance and Quirrel.

"Perhaps some introductions are due?"


"S-So, you… You really went and-"

"Mhmm."

Quirrel ran a chitinous hand over his forehead, struggling to grasp the story laid before him. His good traveling friends, Chance and Tusk, had met up with this Infected Mantis woman and all decided to take on the great Mantis Lords - And they did it all on a whim.

"I don't think I really understand it all myself just yet, but… I guess I'm not going back in there anytime soon," Chance glanced back over to the Village. They hadn't set up camp far from the border, only about a dozen or so paces. An outsider might've thought they were just trying to be petty to the Lords who had exiled them. Chance was just tired.

He sighed, looking back down at the small bug - Vessel? - in his embrace. Their crying had slowed to a halt, and their uncontrollable shivering had subsided, now resting peacefully in his embrace. Tusk's mask never changed, but despite their wide-open eyes, Chance thought they might've been asleep. It made sense; after such a rough battle, the crying must've tuckered them out. He figured he'd let them sleep a little while longer.

...Were they crying… over him?

"Oh, please," Rio scoffed at some point, pulling his attention back to the conversation after he'd zoned out. "Let not this one failure ruin you. You'll need to be in top form, if you wish to return for a rematch with the Lords."

That caught his attention. "R-Return? Rio, I just got outlawed," Chance protested. Rio only chuckled - clucked, in a way only a mother would.

"For now, yes. But you do have one opportunity to set foot back within our lands without having your blood spilt; the Sunset Festival." She said it with such finality, like it was some grand revelation to blow the minds of those to witness her infinite wisdom, but Quirrel and Chance only blinked in confusion.

"The what?"

Rio caught her breath for a moment before scoffing. "Of course you would not be aware. It is a Mantis tradition, not widely celebrated outside of our lands. It has its own long and rich history and whatnot, but the point is; during the Sunset Festival, you'd be allowed to come and go freely from the Village."

Chance sputtered at the absurdity of it. "W-What, even though they kicked me out?!"

"I know! It seems like a security issue to me, but it's something about 'wanting to make amends with old enemies.' Or something along those lines, anyway." Rio shifted to sit on the ground more comfortably. "The important thing is your window. The festival will begin in but a few days, and it will last but a few days. You won't have much time to prepare."

Chance felt his gut lurch at the challenge presented before him. "H-H-How the hell am I s'pposed to gear up that much in that little time?!"

"Well, you could wait for the next Festival," Rio shrugged, "But something tells me neither of us are going to last that long."

(dawnshallbreak)

She turned to Quirrel, making the pillbug jump under her tangerine gaze for a moment. "So, to reiterate: do you know of any way these two could strengthen up before their rematch?"

Quirrel thought for a moment, humming to himself all the while. Chance suddenly felt self-conscious about how they'd been excluding him from the conversation thus far.

"Well… I do not know if this advice has any merit, but... " He spared a glance over to the small Tusk lying on Chance's chest. "If you plan to challenge- re-challenge," he corrected himself, still grasping at how they fought the Lords and survived, "To re-challenge the Lords of this tribe, your friend's blunted nail may prove inadequate."

"Blunted?" Chance asked. On cue, Tusk rose from his embrace, much calmer now, and pulled out their nail to show to the group. (It wasn't strapped to their back or anything a moment ago, where the hell did they keep that thing-)

Blunted was one way of putting it, the thing had deep cracks running up and down the blade. It was a miracle it hadn't just shattered yet.

"By the Wyrm, Tusk, when was the last time you've visited a blacksmith?" Quirrel asked, surprised at the damage. It was about as sharp as a baseball bat. (Which was fine with him; he was better with those, anyway.)

Rio chuckled. "You fought our Lords with that? Pfft, no wonder you lost."

Chance flinched, just for a moment.

(maketheburningstopmaketheburningstopmaketheburningstopmaketheburningstopmaketheburningstopmaketheburningstopmaketheburningstop)

If Quirrel noticed a shift in tone, he didn't comment on it. "Well, that settles it. Your best bet is to find the Nailsmith residing in the old capital city of Hallownest. It's not all too far from here, so making it there and back in your time frame should be easy enough."

The… capital city? Of Hallownest? Something about that idea made Chance feel anxious. Was it just a populous area, or was it a… a city city? Something like that, hidden deep within the earth of a forgotten kingdom… This whole mess really was right out of a fantasy book.

"Trickster."

The whole group jumped, and Chance quickly rose to his feet. None of them had even noticed when a single Mantis had snuck up on them.

"...Lightfoot?" Rio asked, staring at her son with an unreadable expression. "What are you doing here?" Lightfoot only nodded in greeting to her, and barely even glanced at Quirrel, before he stepped forward towards Chance. Holding out his arms, he presented to him…

"...My nail? Oh, my nail!" Chance exclaimed in surprise. "I completely forgot! I dropped this earlier when I…" He trailed off, suddenly unable to look Lightfoot in the eye, remembering their fight that was witnessed by the whole Village.

"Well… T-Thank you," Chance tried to say, hoping he didn't sound too… Weak? Undeserving? Ignorant? But as he reached out to take the nail (Iselda's nail, you dolt), he felt a sudden jolt in his left hand. A familiar jolt.

Pulling his hand away, he just caught a glimpse of the Mantis Claw before it melted back into his skin.

Everyone was staring at Lightfoot incredulously, most of all Chance, who gazed into his even, black eyes with some kind of confusion akin to horror. "...W-Why?"

"You intend to exploit our sacred traditions in hopes of reversing your exile." Lightfoot spoke with such a practiced and even tone, he had to have thought for a long time about what he was doing. Chance cringed under his accusatory words before he spoke again, "We have another tradition. The Mantis Claw is a gift from our Tribe, one only acquired either through a test of strength…"

"...Or… as a gift, from anyone in the Tribe," Rio finished her son's sentence for him. "Any Mantis has the right to gift a Mantis Claw to any outsider they deem worthy. ...Lightfoot, why-"

"If I did not answer the first time," Lightfoot said, "What makes you think I will answer your question the second time?" His tone was undeniably snappy, but there was something… softer, in it as well.

He looked back into Chance's orange eyes, who realized suddenly how much taller the Mantis was than him. "I suppose I will answer a question with a question, then. Trickster, why didn't you die today?"

"Rude," Quirrel mumbled under his breath. Lightfoot ignored him.

"I ask not a rhetorical question," he continued, holding Chance's nail and pushing it into his arms, forcing Chance to grasp for it awkwardly around his chest. "You caught the Infection, you challenged our Lords with little more than a blunted nail and a Claw, and you are an alien creature likely lost from beyond the borders of Hallownest. You should have died. Yet you did not. Why?"

Chance could only stare back at him, struggling to breathe. "I… I don't-"

Lightfoot cut him off as he turned on his heel to return to the Village. "It's unfair to expect an answer to some questions, Trickster. Think on what I have said, but for both our sakes, please never give me an answer."

And then he was gone. Chance was left staring at the space he once was, clutching a longnail to his chest and mindlessly flexing the spikes that ebbed and flowed across his hands. For a long time, nobody spoke.

Quirrel, eventually, spoke up. "W-Well, perhaps it is time I take my leave," he said, standing rather suddenly. "Remember, the Nailsmith in Hallownest's capital. I would join you, but ah," he tilted the mask on his head to hide his face, "I have a few other errands to run before then. Perhaps we will meet up again on the way?" he said with a smile.

And then he was gone, too.

Chance struggled to process the whirlwind of thoughts running through his head. He leaned the longnail up against the wall before slowly trying to sit down, holding onto a large mushroom for support. Just as Tusk had crawled into his lap to rest for a little while longer-

Achoo!

Rio suddenly jumped. "What in the-" She fumbled around with her cloak, pulling it off to reveal Jeremy, looking dazed in the ground. "Jeremy! I'd completely forgotten you were hiding in there! Why didn't you say something, you dolt?"

"Suh-Sorry," Jeremy wheezed, sniffling. Thankfully, it sounded less like he was crying and more like he just had a runny nose. "I jush got so cozhy in there, I ah, kinda forgot to pipe up…"

"Tch! Chance, take your fool of a friend away from me before I wind up smacking him!"


Hallownest's technological progress still made absolutely no sense, but Chance didn't really care as much anymore. He just accepted the odd bug magi-tech for what it was; something he would never understand. Just accept it, and move on. He was getting sick of questions.

He barely batted an eye at the collapsed "bridge" before their small group. Two long metal bars extended over an acid lake below, connecting with a distant outcropping of rock. Intricate sheets of metal hung from the bars, like orderly stalactites. It might've been possible to balance upon them, similar to a tightrope, but he doubted even Tusk could've done so.

Jeremy was crouched, examining the odd contraption. "...Oh! I think I get it!", he exclaimed suddenly. "So if these two parts fold up, it should make a bridge! But, uh… How do we do that?" He glanced around nervously, as if looking for an easy switch or button to use.

Chance gave Rio a gentle nudge. "You sure this is the way to that City?"

"Positive," she responded. "The damn Wyrm would never let us forget his so-called 'Pilgrim's Way'."

"Okay- Okay, what's this "Wyrm" thing everyone keeps going on about? Is it, like, a god…?" Just after the words left his mouth, he could tell by the look in Rio's eyes that it was a loaded question, one he probably should've saved for a better time.

"Ha, the amusement so many of my kin would find in the Pale Wyrm being referred to as an 'it'. I forget how you are not a native to these lands." She sighed before continuing, "The Pale Wyrm was the former king of Hallownest. In many ways, he was, as you say, a god - a Higher Being, even. But as the Infection grew, he vanished, along with his palace and his throne. For the survivors, all that remains is ruin."

"...Huh." Chance mumbled when he noticed she had finished speaking. "He sounds… not great." ("Higher Being", where had he heard that before, he knewhe had heard it before-)

"U-Uhm… Hey, Chance?" Jeremy spoke up, and both human and Mantis turned to glance at him attentively. The cloaked figure was still crouched down by the bar, looking very small. "You, uhm… You're going to look for a cure, right? F-For the Infection."

"Oh. I…" I don't need to be reminded. "...I am. Why?"

"I… I want to go with you!"

Chance recoiled in surprise. "W-What? Why?!" Jeremy was going to get hurt. Jeremy was going to see him get hurt. Jeremy was going to die-

"I-I don't… W-What was it Lightfoot said about not asking questions?" Seeing Chance's glare, he quickly changed course, "I-I'm tired of being stuck. I've been here in these stupid Wastes for so long, I-I wanna leave. I wanna meet new people cause there's nobody in the Wastes who wants to talk to me except for the Mantises but they'd all kill me on sight a-and you've actually listened to me for once in my life and-"

"You… just want to see new places?"

"M-Mhmm!" Jeremy nodded fervently. His face was obscured by his hood, but Chance could easily imagine him staring at him with something bordering on puppy-eyes.

Jeremy wanted to go with him on his death march, knowing full well that what happened to Chance earlier today or worse could happen to him, that he could and likely would lose his life on this impossible mission, and he wanted to do it just so he could "see new places."

"I believe you."

Just then, the folds of the bridge suddenly jumped up, clearing their way only about halfway-ish across the acid lake. Tusk, who Chance didn't even notice had left, was standing at the end of what had been constructed so far, standing next to a switch with a proud aura about them. Jeremy glanced wordlessly between Chance and Tusk, before standing up from his crouch and running out to see the latter.

Rio smacked Chance.

"Ow-!"

"You don't actually believe his drivel, do you? I've not heard a more blatant lie in my life."

Chance shrugged. "'course I don't believe him. But I couldn't hope to guess his real reason, so…"

Rio scoffed, looking like she was considering hitting him again. "You're so irresponsible," she chided, "first you challenge our Lords while woefully underequipped, and then you let such an innocent soul follow you to the core of this world just to die."

"Wh- Innocent soul?"

"Oh, please, he's hardly more than a child in how he acts." She sighed. "It matters not, I suppose. He is your friend, not mine. And besides, this appears to be as far as I can go; from here on out, you'll be on your own." She hummed thoughtfully before adding, "Perhaps another voice will do you good; keep you grounded."

She paused. Chance fidgeted as the lull in conversation stretched on, trying to focus on the sounds of acid hissing below them, the distant sound of Jeremy cheering on Tusk.

"...I didn't ask before, but…" Rio turned and looked him in the eyes, straight in the eyes. Tangerine on tangerine. "Are you… alright? Really."

Chance stared on as the vomit welled up in hIs throat, he couldn't move to put out the fire oh god his arm was on fire, the sKin turNing tO a deep ash and dripping to the ground like Wax was he a liar please whY god help the blade ran straight thrOUgh his chest, it feLt so coLd between his riBs his hands I'm here to help you, please just calm down why couldn't hE move his legs he couldn't feel his legs he was on fire the flesh of his arm wAs he a liar crumbled and melted away like icing on a cake after the candleS are lefT on too long he took A needle and hacked away at his shouldeR, why wouldn't It come off why did it hurt what was he here for who was he, where was he why was he Please listen to me. It's going to be okay, just breathe why couldN't he See he cOuldn't trust his eyes anyMore he couldn't trust his voice hE couldn't trust is Body he cOuldn't trust his arms he coulDn't trust his legs he couldn't trust his head he couldn't trust his heart he couldn't trust his dreams, was he a liar he was burning he was freezing he was being torn to long bloodY shreds his hEad hurt his heart hurt his eyes hurt, You can trust me. Please trust me, leave me alone Leave me alone leave me alone pleaSe just lEt me go the needle broke and he hacked away with the claw, pleaSe he was getting close please just come off the bone turned to dust and flew away in an orange sunset wind that smothered and suffocated the world, the midnight SKY was chased away into nothing was he a liar and

Chance nodded. "'m alright," he mumbled.


Thump!

He was just starting to fall asleep when a bundle of something fell into Chance's lap. He, Tusk and Jeremy had all decided to rest for a little while before continuing on; Chance would like to say otherwise, but so far, it was him who needed the extra sleep, not Jeremy, poor, frail Jeremy.

Who would've guessed rest with a decapitated arm didn't do much for him?

He hoped his jolt of surprise didn't wake the others, sleeping leaned up against the wall beside him, as he glanced down at what looked like a bundle of… string? Some kind of package, maybe, tossed into his lap. Looking up, he froze when he saw her.

Oh, of course it was her.

"Perhaps I owe you an apology, human," Hornet said, her voice a touch less sharp than usual, he figured she was just trying to avoid waking up Tusk and Jeremy, rather than any desire to actually be any easier on him. "Though, you did hurl your nail at me like a deranged lunatic earlier. Fair's fair."

She said nothing more, only nodding towards the bundle of string - silk? - in Chance's hands. Hesitantly, he peeled it open, and judging by its rectangular shape he half expected it to be C4 or something-

A familiar, glossy black surface stared back at him, and his breath caught in his throat.

"If I am to apologize, I suppose it would be more fair to do so for breaking this object than for stealing it, but…" She huffed. "I do not understand what value it may have had to you, but for what it is worth, I am sorry. It truly was a wondrous thing, while it lasted."

She was about to leave, but Chance's… distraught face convinced her to say just a bit more. "I do not know what happened, exactly. That... Light seemed to emerge out of it, and my blade-"

"N-No," Chance cut her off. "It's… it's okay. I understand. It was just a matter of time, anyway."

Hornet paused for a moment, but nodded. "I'm glad we've come to an understanding, despite everything." Stepping away to leave, she pulled her needle from her back, let her silk wind up, and-

Chance laughed softly. "I mean… I don't really know what I'm gonna… y'know, do about it, but... Hallownest's got magic for like, everything, right? Charging a battery can't be that hard."

...Something about his tone, his words, made Hornet freeze. "A… Battery?"

"Y-Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't know about that, huh?" Chance only laughed again. "This thing, it has a battery inside, it stores energy that it uses to power itself so you can use it, see?" He pulled the phone from the silk bundle that Hornet used to keep all the pieces together-

One.

The device in Chance's hands had healed itself and become whole again. Not a crack nor scratch to be found in its flawless glass screen.

Irreparable damage, completely undone.

"It was playing music when you, uhm… Y-You probably just didn't know how to turn it off? And it just kept playing 'til the battery died. It's okay, I know someone else who had that same problem when I left it with them, haha." He smiled as he showed the device to her. "Maybe if I can charge it up again, I can teach you how to use it?"

Hornet turned around and fled.


Chapter name and summary are a reference to Don't Let It Bring You Down by Neil Young.

again, if you didn't see in chapter 3 of MR, i wanna say thank you for 10,000 hits and for the TV Tropes mention! we also made a discord server, can't put links on FFN but here's the invite code in plaintext:

PYXCv9tUPg