"You know that I'm weak for you."


"What did you die for?"

Kneeling over the shattered pieces of a child, his hands stained black like the holes in a memory. An ivory mask, a skull, weighed numb in his hands, its horns fractured and oozing.

From the abyss of their hollow eyes, they whispered.

"Nothing at all."

"...ance? Chance, we… We have to leave them behind."

He felt himself ease back into consciousness – or maybe only into focus. The ancient tram rumbed underfoot, Jeremy and Tusk sitting on one of the plush seats behind him. It was only their little group, alone in a rusty metal pod powering through a pitch-black tunnel like they were the last ones left living in the universe, surrounded by corpses.

Chance was seated by the window, the cold body of the Broken Vessel lain across his lap, their mask cradled in his arms. As if they could wake up any minute now.

There was nothing left in their eyes, not even the liquid black whispering unheard judgements. Only an empty space, hollow like a skull.

And yet, it still felt bitter. It still felt angry.

Jeremy poked him in the shoulder again, and he blinked. Shudders ran down his arms. He didn't know what possessed him to take the Vessel's body with them; maybe it was guilt, or maybe spite, or maybe that blinding abyss of apathy growing in his mind was threatening to swallow him whole. Slowly, gently, he moved aside, shifting their body off of his and into the window seat he was just in. Their mask thunked against the glass, empty eyes gazing into the darkness, indifferent.

They'd been silent the whole tram ride until now. Blood and Infection were still splattered all over his clothes, speaking volumes. He could still catch the pain and concern in Jeremy's face from the reflections in the glass, as well as a hint of what might be fear.

"Chance, our stop's up ahead. We need to go."

The tram was starting to grind to a halt, squeaks of wheels against metal as they thudded into their stop, the hydraulic brakes making them all stumble with a hiss. It felt like an exhale; everything was quiet, except for the compressed speakers playing a tinny piano tune. Quiet as it was, the noise was grating on Chance's ears.

Reaching over, he thumbed the golden ring on his ringer, its pink crystals glinting even in the dim light.

"...She used me."

His voice was a hoarse whisper, orange eyes glazed over and staring into empty space. Jeremy tried to reach out, to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, to hug him, anything–

"SHE USED ME!"

Chance ripped the ring off of his finger. With a cry, he threw it as hard as he could into the windshield of the tram, hard enough to embed it into the glass but not enough to shatter. The cracks were like a spiderweb.

The doors slid open a moment later, and Chance scrambled out, stumbling, sprinting as far and as fast as he could. He grit his teeth as he limped along, scratching at an itch on his arm that had been bothering him ever since they had gotten on the tram.

"Chance!" Jeremy yelled out after him. "Chance, come back!" Tusk was already dashing after him, but before Jeremy moved to follow, he paused, and turned back.

The Broken Vessel's corpse, sitting upright and leaning against the glass like any other passenger. The gold and pink ring, still shimmering, halfway through the wide, dark window.

wwindowwindowdiwndndowwindow–

Pursing his lips and looking back out towards where Chance ran off to, Jeremy found himself gingerly tugging the ring out of the broken glass, and pocketing it, before running off to follow.

He could only catch a single glimpse of the Broken Vessel before he was gone. He could've sworn he saw their head turn, just slightly, in his direction.


The pink crystal splashed against the acid, hissing, before sinking away into the green to dissolve. Maybe it'd take minutes, maybe centuries. It couldn't happen soon enough.

Chance stormed through the tunnels, ripping pink crystals out of his satchel and throwing them into the pits of acid as hard as he could. They skipped across the lake, spiraling and glowing and breaking apart into nothing. He'd tried stomping on them, breaking them with the Claws, and nothing worked until he just fucking threw one into the boiling acid. It pissed him off.

Lightfoot is dying. Quirrel is dying. Iselda and Lemm and Rio are dying.

He yelled as he heaved one over his shoulder, only for the backsplash to get drops of acid on his pants. He hissed, trying to wipe it away, feeling his hands burn, feeling his chest burn, feeling his head burn, he was still fucking itchy–

Chance kicked something and screamed. He didn't have any control anymore. He just lashed out at anything he saw, punching walls, leaving deep gashes in the dark stone with the Claws, teeth gnashing like a goddamn animal…

It would never be enough.

She used me. And everyone is going to die because of it.

He broke down, his back sliding against the wall with a choked sob. God, his whole body was fucking shaking. His throat felt dry, he was almost dripping with Infection, and his vision was starting to blur. He wanted to vomit.

A cold silence followed for a minute. Nobody was following him.

"T-Tusk…?" Chance called, his voice weak. "Jay…?" The was only greeted with the ever-present sound of chittering and buzzing. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time it had actually been quiet.

(It was when he was hunched over the Broken Vessel's corpse, not even hearing his own heartbeat, knowing he was screaming but nothing coming through as he thought about that body being Tusk's–)

Okay. Okay.

Breathe.

With unsteady hands, he reached into his satchel and pulled out his map. He still had the Wayward Compass charm pinned to his shirt, so he should be able to see the others if he checked. At least, he should be able to see himself.

It was a part of the map they hadn't filled in, but Cornifer had done it for them when they'd bought it from him initially. It was some kind of upward crevice, where the kingdom started to move vertically instead of horizontally, like curling along the inside of a box.

The Kingdom's Edge.

And there he was, his little face marked right into the paper, glowing. He couldn't see Jeremy, but Tusk's icon was moving around somewhere beneath him. Or ahead? They were jumping around erratically; shit, were they in trouble? He needed to get over himself and get back to them.

Pulling himself up with a groan, he double-checked to make sure none of those crystals were left in his bag, then looked back down at his map to find the shortest route back.

He froze.

There was his icon, glowing against the map, moving on its own while he was standing still.

In the opposite direction that he was heading.

He glanced up and around, expecting something to lunge out, but nothing was there. Back to the map, his icon had reunited with Tusk, but was still moving on its own, with Tusk following it. Tusk wasn't anywhere near him, and he wasn't taking a single step, so how the hell–?

Chance shoved the map away and started running. He hissed against his limp, clawing at the itch on his arms, but kept moving as fast as he could, the tunnels becoming a blur.

Was he following Tusk? What was the Compass picking up and mistaking as him?

He kept following 'his' path, keeping the map on-hand while he ran through, his heartbeat and his breathing filling his ears and subsuming everything else in the world, everything spiraling into a black static until–

Chance tripped, fell, and smashed straight through a thin wall.

He laid there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, letting his senses simmer down for a moment. Groaning as he tried to pull himself up, he was suddenly face-to-face with Tusk, staring down at him judgmentally.

Were… Were you following me, or were you always on the other side of this wall?

He rolled over, pulling up his map again, thankful that it hadn't creased or torn too badly when he fell down. His icon had stopped moving; it was standing still right next to Tusk, which was… correct.

"Tusk? Tusk, what…?"

He tried to pull himself up, looking further into the tunnel they'd broken into. He froze; the tunnel was yellow, and arranged in very uniform hexagons, too structured to be natural.

This isn't what I think it is… right?

Tusk, understanding the implications of these patterns and the inherent danger they posed, made the careful and wise decision of running straight in like a fucking maniac.

"T-Tusk!" Chance shouted. "Wait, we still–!" Have to get to the Grave in Ash, meet with Hornet again, find a cure so I don't drop dead and become a zombie and–

Tusk didn't listen. Cursing, Chance ran to follow, praying Jeremy wasn't far behind and would make better decisions than they had.


Sunrise seeped from every crevice and oozed down into hardened crystal gold. Creeping, melting, as orderly as a day, the geometry fitting neatly together, too great to be of man and too perfect to be of nature.

Chance had really, really thought it was Infection at first.

But this wasn't the same. The cave was a beautiful sweet sunset, its oranges inoffensive and cozy, not the sharp neons he'd been drowning in. It was a warm, sweet amber, not the blinding tangerine that gushed through his veins. No whispers from the honey crystals, no feeling of being watched under a microscope, no drugged enslavement to the gods. It was a bit too close for comfort, but the air here was almost easy, if sugar-thick.

And holy shit, it really was all honey. It dropped down from the walls and ceiling like golden waterfalls, hardening into an eternal monument. Large eggs of amber crowded the floors. As tempted as he was to have a taste, he figured he'd only end up regretting it. Who knew where this honey had been?

Besides, he still needed to run after Tusk. Despite their stubby legs, they ran way faster than he could, and he'd already lost them. (It was like they wanted to get away from him.)

Fuck, if he went ahead to find Tusk, he might lose Jeremy. But if he waited for Jeremy, he'd never be able to catch up to Tusk.

Well… Jeremy seemed to have experience in avoiding trouble, while Tusk was just a magnet for it. Taking a gamble, Chance staggered forward, deeper into the Hive.

A low buzzing had made itself known, assaulting his ears. After a bit of climbing and avoiding globs of honey, he'd managed to pull himself up into what looked like a main chamber. His breath hitched; it was about the size of the cavern that the White Palace ruins were in, a colossal empty space. Except this place was alive. He was tucked away on a high ledge somewhere, the room seeming as deep as it was tall.

The entire room seemed to be melting. Molten honey flowed freely down ledges and stairways, and even seemingly stone structures drooped down against the easy golden light, as if coaxed into sleep. Giant bees, ranging from the size of housepets to cars, fluttered about between the amber stalactites, honeycombs like glass rising along the walls and reflecting golden light across the horizon like a massive sunset.

One smaller bee buzzed curiously over in his direction, dark eyes wide like a puppy's. An ancient human instinct in Chance saw the yellow-black stripes and heard the endless buzzing, and immediately wanted to run like hell, but he managed to put it off for now.

He reached out a tentative hand, and the bee nuzzled its brown mane into his fingers, buzzing with warmth. Chance huffed a smile; these guys were actually really cute.

The bee ran its fuzzy body along his hand, from its head to its mane, through each one of its stripes, and finally down to its rounded tail end.

With a satisfied bzzt!, a gleaming barb shot out as if spring-loaded, straight through Chance's palm.

For a very brief fraction of a second, he almost didn't even register it.

"AAAAAAAGH!"

He screamed, that primal instinct rushing back to him like a tidal wave, swallowing him into the depths of reflex. His Claws immediately sharpened and tore into the small bee, ripping its blood-coated stinger out of his burning hand before shredding its body apart into fuzzy gore that hit the ground with a wet slap.

His breathing ragged and clutching his hand – for which the tendons to his fingers must've been severed because holy SHIT, that FUCKING hurt – Chance didn't feel an ounce of guilt for brutally murdering what must've been Hallownest's equivalent of a small puppy.

The bee's blood and gore that had fallen at his feet and oozed all over his claws were a bright, violent orange.

Fucking hell, she even got these little guys?! The bee hadn't shown any of the usual signs of Infection; no orange glowing eyes, no mindless savagery of a zombie. It was even nice to him, up to a point.

Point. Barb. Fuck.

His wound slowly closing up under the pale moonlight of his Soul, Chance staggered off. He needed to find Tusk, and fast.


It only took one more blow from their nail to smash the giant honey crystal to bits. Hardened amber scattered across the floor like glass, while the still-molten honey inside drooped and spilled out, uncontained.

A small bee wandered through the air near Tusk, buzzing with innocent concern.

With a swish of their nail, they immediately decapitated it, bee internals splattered across the honey-gold hexagon floor.

They smashed the tiles with the brunt of their nail, the liquid night of their form shaking, overwhelmed. Why were they heaving? Vessels didn't breathe. They didn't convulse. They didn't get overwhelmed.

Vessels did not want to hurt things. Vessels did not want to break things.

Buzzing like a swarm of biplanes surrounded them. The orange viscera of the small bee encircled Tusk like a painted target on the floor, and there were half a dozen giant bees with their sights set firmly on the little knight that had slaughtered one of their kin.

One of them reared back and charged at them like a bull, rocketing towards them at speeds unimaginable for its relatively small wings. Tusk jumped away at the last second; the bee monster crashed right through the solid stone ground they had been standing on, the force of its charge great enough to turn rocks into dust.

Tusk quaked on the platform they had leapt to. They… weren't in a state to fight. Their perfect form wavered and drooped like the honey in the ceiling. Overwhelmed.

Another massive bee came shooting down like a comet–!

It broke through the platform, obliterating it into a mess of honeycomb and rock. When the dust settled, Tusk was nowhere to be found; no shards of mask, no splattered ink on the wall.

The giant bee considered this, and after a cursory glance to see if they had survived, buzzed with indifference, and decided to head home. It could not be bothered to find the remains of something it couldn't even eat. The thing that had been bothering it with their mere existence was gone, so it was satisfied.

As they hummed through the air, slow yet unyielding like a mammoth, one of their antennae reached back to scratch an itchy spot on their giant brown mane of fuzz and fur.

Tusk inched a little over to the side to avoid detection. As much as they tried to hide, their curved white horns popped out of the thick fur. Soon so did their head, to look around.

They'd… never flown around like this before.

Two clear, membranous wings buzzed on either side of them. Perking their head up, their own Monarch Wings sprouted out of their back and beat rapidly, trying to mimic the bee's own buzzing so they could pretend they were the one flying.

(This bee was so relaxed and sluggish when they weren't trying to kill them. It reminded them of Styx, old the Stag Beetle, except for flying.)

Sure, the Vessel had seen greater heights in some of the more vertical shafts of Hallownest. It wasn't their first time flying, either; they've flown before, but never with such ease, such leisure. It was nothing like the electric violence of the Crystal Heart imbued in the human.

Chance…

Tusk's wings stopped flapping for a moment. Images flashed across their vision; sibling's crying after having their leg blown off, sibling's desperate begging for help, sibling's last animalistic scream of silence as their body was ground away into paste and nothing.

And then he healed them. Waved his hand across the puddle that he'd turned their sibling into, let their corpse look peaceful, let them look like none of those horrors had ever happened to them.

But… the human had been crying, too. Even though he didn't suffer nearly the same, he still cried for them.

Why?

Tusk suddenly found that their convulsions, like crawling skin, had begun to ease. The sick bubbling on their body had simmered. They could focus again, they could be still again.

The wind rushed across their pale mask as the giant bee lazily buzzed along, unaware of the tiny stowaway in its mane. They stared out across the massive sprawling cavern of sweet, molten gold.

Maybe flying for a little longer could help sort out these ugly feelings, and then everything would be okay.


"Baby, baby…

Baby, don't leave me~

Oooooh, please don't leave me,

All by my-self~!"

Chance cursed as he fumbled with his phone, first trying to pause the music with one hand, and then having to kneel down and put his gun on the floor to try and stop the noise. He kept looking around frantically, praying that none of those giant bees could hear the cacophony from his phone.

Holy shit, why was this thing at max volume?! He'd muted it after the last time!

I've got this burnin', burnin' yearnin'

Feelin' inside me~!

Oooooh, deep inside me…

And it hurts so bad~!"

With a tap on the phone screen, the music finally cut. For a brief moment, everything was quiet again, save for the endless buzzing of bees that filled the air.

But even with his phone's volume off and the song paused, Chance could still hear a voice singing.

"You came into my heart… So tenderly~"

It wasn't from his phone.

The momentary panic he'd felt when his phone went off came back tenfold into full alert, and Chance jumped from the ground, his revolver held in a vice as he searched for the source of the singing. It was a woman's voice, one that made his muscles tense and his brow sweat just from hearing it. His own heartbeat was almost as loud as her singing.

His eyes landed on a swarm of giant bees drifting lazily by, unaware or uncaring of the voice. And lounging on the back of the largest one like it was a bed, was a figure clad in golden regalia, a three-pronged crown, and cream charmeuse draperies; ever flowing, ever blinding.

"With a burnin' love… That stings like a bee~"

An inhuman goddess from another world beyond his comprehension was cracking jokes about bees. Chance turned his gun on her.

A single glowing eye cracked open to give him a sideways glance, before Layla simply slid off of the bee's back, her armored feet still moonwalking over its fuzzy surface. It was like the bee had gained its own gravitational field as she danced to the silent rhythm, until she was hanging upside-down like a bat, eyeing Chance from high in the air. Even her velvety cape was still obeying her own gravity.

She burst into a fireball of Essence, shooting towards Chance, before popping back into existence before him. Not quite human, not quite moth, so far removed from mortality. Wry orange eyes smiling down at him, it took all of Chance's willpower to not shoot her then and there.

"Human music is so inspired, so much more pure and informal than any ensembles I have heard in Hallownest before. I've grown quite fond of it; what a beautiful gift to give to your God."

So the evil dream goddess liked his playlist. Chance had no fucking clue how to respond to that, so he silently cocked the hammer of his gun, keeping it trained between Layla's eyes.

She tried to keep a smile up, but she couldn't ignore the gun barrel she was staring straight down, dampening her mood. Layla's grin slowly crumbled into a sigh, averting her gaze for a moment.

The golden goddess and the diseased trainwreck she had created. Even she couldn't pretend everything was alright.

"I want to apologize."

The shaking in Chance's hands paused. He blinked; not lowering his gun but silently urging her to continue.

"It's apparent to me that we've gotten off on the wrong foot. A few misunderstandings, things we shouldn't have said – things we perhaps should have said – and now you have a weapon pointed at me." She ran the finger of her gauntlet around the rim of the barrel, toying with it. "Small tragedies of circumstance. I want the opportunity to fully explain myself to you."

Chance's breath was ragged. "...'Circumstance?' What you did to the Broken Vessel was just 'circumstance?'"

"That Void-Being was a tragedy. But then again, all of them are." She paced around him, Chance keeping the gun aimed at her temple. "You don't even know the horrors of their conception, do you? Atrocities committed at the Pale Wyrm's cursed hand. That 'Broken Vessel' was dying from the very beginning; I only wished to help them."

The prosthetic leg of Lightseeds, the way their body collapsed when the Infection bubble was popped, like a puppet's strings being cut–

"To no avail."

"To no avail, indeed." Layla sighed, somber. "Their Void is the antithesis of my Light. Try as I might, their form rejected my blessing. Was putting them down the only option? I'd like to think not, but their kin exist so frustratingly outside my domain, and they were in so much pain…"

…Void is the antithesis to Light? Are… Are all Vessels made of 'Void'? Like Tusk?

Chance stepped closer, forcing the gun barrel against the side of Layla's head. "You keep calling it a 'blessing', but I'm still dying. How the hell am I 'blessed?'"

"Oh, I was hoping to explain that! You're merely in a… transitional phase, right now. My Light is not killing you, but your body is struggling to adapt, especially while you still fight it. Like taking a new medicine. Once it is fully accepted, you'll be stronger and healthier than you've ever been in your entire life."

With a single finger, she gently pushed the gun barrel up, leaning in towards Chance with the warmest smile he'd ever seen on her.

"And then you'll be my king."

He was frozen. His heartbeat had either stopped completely, or was beating so fast that he could no longer hear it. Inviting orange eyes like a car's headlights inched just a little closer to his face, and he leapt back, aiming his gun again but unable to keep his hands from shaking.

"...The hell does that mean?" It was more of a breath than a coherent sentence.

Layla hummed for a moment, circling around him. Her golden heels clicked against the honeycomb glass floor. "Well… Let me put it this way. Look around you."

Chance blinked. For a moment, he let his eyes peel away from the goddess and glanced around the massive chamber, golden and tangerine with honey, both molten and hardened into glass. The maddening buzzing of giant bees swarmed the air around them, passively humming along, like a bustling crowd with everyone each going their own separate ways for their own purposes.

"These bees…" Even with the near-deafening buzzing, Layla's soft voice still came through, like it was whispered directly in his ear. "Look at them. Nothing impressive on their own, but they each serve a purpose. All of them are cogs in a greater machine that operates this Hive."

A small one came down to her, and Layla gave it a gentle pat on its fuzzy head. (Chance might've been imagining it, but he didn't see any of the bee's hairs ruffled.) With a wave of her hand, all of the bees suddenly swarmed past Chance, lining up into a formation shaped like a mesh of giant spinning gears in mid-air. All of the small bees stuck to their shape harder than a marching band, their eyes glossed over with an orange tint that Chance was certain wasn't there just a moment ago.

"Bees are not meant to live alone. They must work in unison, all parts of a whole, all to fulfill a singular purpose."

Chance turned to look at her. "...To serve their Queen."

With a snap of her armored fingers, the bees broke formation, going back about their usual routine like nothing happened. "And their King, of course. Why shouldn't the rest of nature follow the mechanically perfect example the Hive demonstrates?"

Just a rhyme without a reason.

"That's all I've ever wanted, Chance. For everything to be perfect. For everything to be… synchronized."

"W-Well–" Chance sputtered, "What about all the husks that keep attacking us? They're Infected, so they should be under your control, right? How do you explain that?!"

Layla tsk'd. "'Us', hm? Well, I primarily instructed them to kill your Vessel friend. Again, all Void-Beings are a threat to my reign. I tried to help the Broken Vessel out of the good in my heart, but 'Tusk' is hellbent on cutting down all who follow me. Every kingdom needs security for its people, and my Kingdom of Dreams is no different."

She wandered in front of him, trailing her finger across his delicate chin with teasing eyes. When did she get so close? "As for you, however… I would never wish you harm, love, but strength is necessary for any king. I cannot accept a weak Seraphim."

Layla smiled, and she patted his cheek lightly, sardonically, with her cool metal gauntlets. She laughed, "Consider it playing hard-to-get."

"W-What…" Chance's gun began to lower. "The fuck's a 'Seraphim?'"

"Ah, I forget you are not familiar with our theology. A Seraphim is, essentially, an angel; a God's closest associate and the executor of their will. A mortal ascended to the status of a God." She hummed, "Not all Gods have one. Myself, it has been quite some time since I have exalted a Seraphim of Dreams. The last one to hold that title went far beyond my expectations; I hope you can live up to her legacy."

…Her?

"How about this – as a test of loyalty?" Layla grinned. "Retrieve the Dream Nail from your Vessel friend, and I will crown you as my Seraphim."

Chance blinked. "That's– That's all?"

"That's all. Steal that sacred weapon back for its rightful owner, and you will become the King of Hallownest for eternity. With me~"

Layla's inviting gaze was not lost on Chance. I… Shit. That's definitely a hell of a lot easier than trying to find a cure. Struggling to maybe live another day, or a small theft to become a God. Hard to argue with.

But Tusk… And…

"Why me?" Chance finally caved. "There's others. Others who are so much stronger than I am. Why did you pick me?"

Why do you love me?

It was a long moment before Layla answered. Her expression was stricken, somber, more human than he'd ever seen it before. No bullshit. No manipulation. For once, she was actually stopping to try and talk things out.

"Because…" She spoke slowly, still working out the words in her head. "Because you're my last chance, Chance. Humanity is the only kin that has not turned their back on my Light, abandoned my memory to the dust. When I stay with you, I feel… seen. I can forget my past, forget my anger, forget my pain… forget myself. Forget everything."

With a blip of Chance's vision, she morphed into a pure Moth, an armored ball of glowing fluff barreling into his embrace. Chance groaned at the sudden crushing hug of moth-wings; he still didn't think this was her true form, but it was as true as he was going to get. Her cream-colored down was softer than a cloud, and she was about a head taller than he was, encasing him almost completely in her hug…

"I don't want to be alone anymore."

Chance shuddered, silent except for his hushed sobs. He pulled his aching arms around her form and held her close.

'Forget everything'? Do you envy me, Layla?

"Please, Chance… It hurts so much. Let's heal each other."

They finally pulled apart, and the first thing Layla did was kiss him. Chance's breath hitched into her inhuman mouth, tangerine tears still welling in his eyes. She was almost like Rio, with her long tongue and mandibles, except… softer, less hungry. His hands ran through her fluff as her wings draped over his shoulders and her claws danced across his skin. Warmth. Light. Love, in a quiet embrace.

(No taste. No Heartbeat.)

Chance's eyes finally opened, and she was gone, not even a wisp in the air.


As he turned to leave, something crept from the shadows of amber. Its veins throbbed, its carapace screamed.

A single giant hand, half-melting with sunset corruption, reached around the corner, its claws scratching and cracking the glassen honey like dark nails on a chalkboard.

Screeching. Writhing.

Stalking.

Come crawling faster.


Up–! Just a little bit higher, with a swing of their nail–!

Tusk came falling back down to earth, frustration roiling in their form. They could see the bench up there, somehow encased on a glob of hardened honey that drooped down from the ceiling, but even with their new Monarch Wings, they just couldn't get the right leverage to smash it, only leaving scrapes on the underside.

They hadn't gotten any rest in a while, so with a bench so tantalizingly close, they couldn't quit now. Their glowing wings flared out; just a few more good hits, and surely it would–

BANG!

Tusk startled as the honey crystal exploded, and the metal bench came crashing down with a deafening thud. Shards and globs of honey scattered across the floor like broken glass.

The Vessel whipped around to look. Leaning in the doorway, hands shaking as he Focused the bullet back into his gun, was Chance, looking worse for wear.

"I.. I want to apologize."

Moments passed. Tusk stared at him, silent as ever. They didn't break eye contact as they clambered up onto the bench and made themselves comfortable, staring at him expectantly. Chance couldn't help but feel like they were judging him.

"The… What I did… T-The Broken Vessel," Chance stammered, trying to find the right words. He thought he had it all planned out in his head, but being here, in the moment, all words failed him. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I… I wanted to save them. I could hear them screaming for help, and I couldn't do anything. I turned my back on them, and I…"

Chitin squealing against a hundred steel edges–

Chance stumbled over, standing before Tusk, before he knelt to the ground. "I kept holding them in my arms, screaming, even after it was over, 'cause… I kept thinking of you. They look so much like you, Tusk, I couldn't help but think… 'What if that was you? What the hell would I do without you?' And I just…"

His fingers kept creeping and flexing along his itchy forearm, phasing in and out of Claws. Unable to keep still, desperate to feel. A nervous tick.

"And I guess it made me realize… God, I've been a fucking ass to you, Tusk."

Not long ago, he would've kicked himself for using such vulgar language with them, but that was when he still thought they were a child. He couldn't keep believing that after all the shit they've been dragged through together, nor could he mince words for this anyway. He had to be honest for this, and sometimes being honest means saying that shit's fucked.

"I'd be dead if not for you, but a-all I can do is fix you when you get hurt. I'm a fucking dead man walking, I can barely defend myself in fights, I keep dragging you into messes you have nothing to do with only to run away…"

At some point, he realized he was crying. His Claws were tearing up his jacket forearm and drawing tangerine blood, subconsciously scratching an itch. Tusk kept staring up at him, not even twitching.

"I've been weak, a-and selfish. And useless. I-I don't even know why you let me tag along with this instead of k-killing me once you saw my eyes. I-I mean, I even keep abandoning Jeremy when he can't defend himself at all–"

(This was the moment where, for the first time in the whole conversation, Tusk finally moved to tilt their head in confusion.)

"–a-and maybe I'm just panicking, maybe I'm lucky, but I-I can't keep making excuses like this. I need to be better to you, a-and to Jeremy, and the others, and… I can't keep putting my life before all of yours just because I'm a healer. I'm so sorry, Tusk."

He wept before them, Claws buried into his numb flesh. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know where else to go from here. He needed to apologize to Jeremy too, even if he'd probably say that he apologized too much anyway. Tusk was still looking down at him, judging him; he didn't want to look them in the eye, but he figured he owed them that much as he pulled his head up to face them–

His teary eyes widened. Clasped in Tusk's hands was the Dream Nail, flared up against his head.

He didn't even have the time to shout before the ethereal violet blade struck him in the temple, trailing her finger across his delicate chin with teasing eyes. "As for you, however… I would never wish you harm, love, but strength is necessary for any king. I cannot accept a weak Seraphim."

"Retrieve the Dream Nail from your Vessel friend, and I will crown you as my Seraphim."

Chance felt like he'd just been slapped, his retinas still filled with dark stars from the blinding light.

It was silent. Dead silent.

Tusk's dark eyes were filled with judgment.

They leapt at Chance, Dream Nail in hand, a horrible torment of emotions rolling off of them like a storm. Chance scrambled back, begging them to calm down, but Tusk stared them down in the same way they stared down every other Infected husk they'd slaughtered along the way.

Chance was Infected, Tusk was overwhelmed. Neither of them knew if the other was really there.

He reached out an arm to try and stop them, but Tusk whipped him with the Dream Nail again, sending his mind reeling.

"O-Oh, sorry, I'll set you– Y… You… You want me to keep holding you? Uhm… Okay."

The amber of the Hive faded back into his vision, memories of the Crossroads still drifting in circles in his mind like flowers in a lake. He inched back further against the wall, wanting to escape the assault on his mind but unwilling to fight back. Tusk's approach was relentless, black holes staring him down like headlights. "T-Tusk, wait–!"

The beam of light came back down onto him.

"D… Do you… Do you want me to read this to you? ...Alright. I'll do what I can."

Again.

"T...Thank you, Tusk… I… I dunno what would've happened... if you hadn't-"

He was cut off as Tusk jumped into his chest, wrapping their arms around him in the best hug they could manage. Chance froze, hesitant, but with a sad smile he wrapped his own arms around them, lifting them off the ground and turning away from the bodies they'd left behind.

"C'mon… let's get out of this hellhole already."

Chance's mind was whirling like an engine turbine, the Essence coalescing around him being its burning fuel. "Tusk, I'm–!"

Again.

He stumbled away as Tusk darted under his legs and deeper into the RV, running up to the front. They held their plushie to their chest, looking around curiously, before jumping up into the driver's seat, settling themselves into the soft chair that looked way too big for them. They turned to look at Chance, who laughed. "You don't happen to have a license, do you?"

Again.

He felt the rot seep through his veins and churn in his stomach. The sick in his body was growing, and with each passing moment it grew stronger, and with each passing moment it was harder for him to fight. He was going to die down here.

–Something plopped into his lap.

Tusk stared up at him with big, empty eyes. They were as expressionless as always, but there was an inexplicable air of concern about them. They wrapped their arms around his chest and leaned into the hug.

Chance's thoughts froze, blanked, and started anew. He started crying.

He was curled up against the wall in a fetal position, Tusk standing over him, their whole body shaking and wavering like they were about to melt. He couldn't muster the strength to speak anymore.

Again.

Don't say that you love me!

Again.

Just tell me that you want me!

Again.

"TUSK!"

Chance finally cried out their name. The essence and light around him was dizzying, his whole body shaking from the overstimulation. Tusk was still standing over him, Dream Nail flared out above their head, ready to strike down. They were heaving, struggling to contain the roiling, visceral emotions in the form, the black tar and chitin seeming to melt and droop as their strikes began to waver.

The blinding pink blade of the Dream Nail flickered, dimmed, and soon died like a candle's flame.

Tusk collapsed into Chance's chest.

They both laid there for a long while, curled up in the corner in some sloppy excuse for an embrace. Tusk was probably crying into his shirt, those inky tears that left stains for ages. Chance was still reeling from the mental battery, Tusk was still… dealing with a lot, he could only imagine.

Aneurysm fading, Chance remembered that there was a bench in the same room as them. That was silly. Why were they on the floor when there was a bench right there? Clenching his eyes and teeth shut, he wrapped his arms around Tusk as he slowly, carefully, managed to pull himself to his feet. His whole body felt like lead, apathy pulsing through every vein, but he pushed himself to stagger all the way over to the bench and plop himself and Tusk down.

Fucking hell, he almost wanted to pass out here. With his arms still hugging Tusk, he reached around with his Claws and left a small orange nick on his arm; the pain made him hiss, but he needed to stay awake. With how far along his Infection was now, falling asleep even once could mean…

Tusk was still crying. Chance didn't need to say anything else. He figured they'd both said enough, so all they could do now was wait for the pain to settle in each other's company. The little Vessel was sitting in his lap, dark tears running down their face and into his shirt. Chance's arms pulled around them, holding them close.

Tusk, weak and vulnerable, didn't notice as Chance's hand snaked around their back to their Dream Nail, his thumb running along its hilt.

Well, Layla? You said you wanted to explain everything to me.

How do you explain the death of Hallownest? How do you explain the suffering of the Mantis Tribe's split?

How do you explain the horrors of the Soul Sanctum, executed indirectly on your orders?

And how do you explain what you did to Rio? She was always there for you, always wanted to help you be remembered, and you hurt her for it. For what? To prove a point? In a fit of anger?

No, I can't accept that deal. You used me. You lied to me. I can't trust you.

I can never trust you.

Not while you live in my head.


…Fucking hell, I need to warn him.

It was a few minutes later, shortly after Chance and Tusk managed to pull themselves together to keep moving, when the sudden thought struck him. Frantically fumbling with his phone, he punched in the buttons to call Jeremy's phone when–

Riiing, riiing!

He nearly dropped the thing. Lightfoot was calling him? Had he figured out how to use the thing that quickly? Or…

Fearing the worst, he tapped the green button. "L-Lightfoot?"

"Behind you."

Jeremy's voice only registered for a moment before Chance spun around, seeing a whole swarm of the titanic bees pursuing him. Chance startled for a moment before he started running, Tusk following close behind, the car-sized bees rushing in to take them out.

One of them buzzed particularly close, before it charged forward, barreling towards Chance. He leapt out of the way just in time to see the bee crash through a solid wall of rock, amber rubble scattering everywhere and making the earth shake with the impact. Chance stumbled, staring in horror at the destruction and the barely-fazed giant bee who had nearly crushed him to death.

"I'm not sure where you are… or where I am, anyway. But keep moving."

He didn't even realize he was still holding his phone in a vice grip as he was chased by the army of giant bees. Leaping between giant rock formations to try and lose them, he held it up to his face, panting into the speaker. "Juh-JAY, what the FUCK?!"

"I don't know. It's not my fault. But I can try to help…"

Just as he said that, Chance turned to try and see Tusk, only to find them having vanished. Panicking, feet still pounding on the ground as his heart beat out of his chest, he spun to try and find them "TUSK!"

A familiar sching! of the Dream Nail. Chance looked up towards the noise to see Tusk on a ledge high up, standing over a Whispering Root.

With a blinding flash, reality itself seemed to be torn asunder, the remnants looking to melt as ethereal dreamcatchers floated throughout the massive cavern. Rockets of ruby-red Essense flew overhead like comets, and Chance felt his third eye open wide.

…! What the…?!

He could see some 3D image of the Hive in his mind, almost as clearly as if it were before his own eyes. He could see himself running through the giant amber cavern, able to mentally map out where he should go, what was ahead, and see all the bees that were following him and Tusk.

"W-What the hell?" He could see through the eyes of the bees, and he could hear their thoughts, all clamoring in the back of his skull like a drunken mob.

Hungry… Hurt… Kill…

Another rock installation was blown to dust behind him, but Chance didn't startle. He could see the bee charging into it, could even see what it saw as it blindly rammed in his general direction.

"The Whispering Root can pull the real world closer to the Dream Realm. The minds of all in its effect are in sync."

"The FUCK does that mean–"

Except it did make sense to him. He'd experienced this before, in the fight with Ze'mer. He could see everything she was thinking, and she could see everything he was seeing. Like a card game where both players can see the other's hand. But that meant that the bees–!

"Don't worry, their minds are too small to strategize. Just don't bee too predictable."

Chance had no real way of knowing if Jeremy said 'bee' there or not, but he wouldn't put it past him. "H-Huh–" he panted, exhausted from running. He could see Tusk running along the high walls, following his general direction. Were they going to come down? Should he try to climb up to them? Everything was blurring, his legs were burning, the sweat dripping from his brow was blinding. "How do y-you know this?!"

"I don't know. The things in here, we've been talking. They've told me so much. Things you wouldn't even believe."

Two giant bees charged him at once, slamming into the wall and causing a small earthquake, before they accidentally hit each other and collapsed. They weren't exactly the brightest.

"I can see everything. Superposition. That three-dimensional map in your head? I can see every instance of it, layered on top of each other, everything in every position at once… From start to finish."

"W-What, so you're– Agh! You're seeing through fuckin' time or some shit?!"

"Yes, through. It's a window, or a prism. Every layer at once, every path walked, every change made. All motion, frozen."

Chance stopped for a moment, scrambled to where Tusk had been following him, scarcely avoiding another collision. He was lucky that the things seemed to be knocking themselves out of the sky, but one misstep would be fatal. He could feel his phone slipping out of his sweaty hand.

"Jeremy, we are going to have a LONG FUCKING TALK when I find you!"

"Please. These little guys are nice and all, but I miss home. I miss you…"

A heavy buzzing made his ears ring, a gust of wind nearly knocking Chance off his feet. There was only one giant bee left, and he wasn't going to self-destruct with anyone else.

"H-Hold that thought."

He shoved his phone into his pocket, not even bothering to hang up, letting his hands sharpen into Claws. He spun around, staring down the glare of the massive bee. He could still see everything, still see the wide world of the Hive spread out in his mind, but the singularity was quickly collapsing, honing in on him and this monster.

(Nowhere in that 3D mental space did he see any signs of Jeremy.)

The bee reared up, ready to charge, almost a ton or two of overwhelming force rocketing itself right at him. It was so fast, so massive, there wouldn't be any dodging now.

Chance's Crystal Heart began to beat faster, pounding throughout his whole form like a war drum. Electricity coursed through his veins, neon pink pooling into his fingers, his hands, his arms, making him glow with energy that was nearly too much for his body to handle.

He felt like he was being executed in the electric chair. But as he was dying, Chance had never felt so alive.

Just as the cannoning bee was about to slam into him, Chance reached out and grabbed them, mind-numbing static erupting into the bee, nearly killing it then and there. The overwhelming force of its impact pushed Chance back a good few feet, but he dug into the earth, staying standing with the Claws.

Chance's teeth clenched, nearly cracking; he could feel some of his bones fracture from the blow. But he was on fire; he could keep fighting.

He could feel electricity dancing on his tongue, heating up his face with its fury. Screaming, he heaved the mass over his head, suplexing it into the ground behind him, completely crushing another rock formation under its weight.

The earthquake ripped through the Hive, and then a stunned silence filled the air, not a single bee buzzing anywhere around them.

As the energy of the Crystal Heart dimmed, Chance collapsed. Yep, definitely broke a few things. Holy fucking shit…

His hands were still tingling, blips of electricity jumping between them, as he let the cool milky Focus wash over the burns, mend his bones and soothe his bruises. He felt like he'd just ran a marathon and gotten the gold medal. It didn't feel real, but it made him giddy like a goddamn maniac.

Schlink!

Still catching his breath, he rolled onto his side, seeing Tusk standing triumphantly on the belly of the giant bee corpse. Their nail was embedded right into its gut, dripping orange down its side. They jumped up and down on the fuzzy flesh-mound like it was a trampoline, waving at him like an excited kid.

Hah. Maybe they were a kid. Chance shot them a thumbs up, before he fell flat onto his back, willing to take another few minutes to rest.

"Chance? Chance, are you there?!"

He snapped out of his brief reverie, fumbling with the phone in his pocket. It hadn't hung up, even through all of that(though he did notice that its battery had spiked). "J-Jay?! Jeremy, what– What's going on?!"

"What? I thought Jeremy was with you?"

His mind froze, reset, and stumbled back into awareness as his expression blanked for a moment. He checked the number he was calling, and it hadn't changed; he was still calling Jeremy's phone. But this wasn't Jeremy's voice anymore. "L… Lightfoot?"

"Oh, finally. I had been trying to reach you, and just when I thought you had answered, all I heard was your muffled screaming while you ignored me…"

Chance ran a hand over his sweat-drenched forehead, almost leaning back into the bee corpse like a cushion, before he shot back up again. "W-Wait! Lightfoot, I need to– Fuck, I gotta tell you something, it's–"

"You were right to send me back, Chance."

"–It's important… you… What?"

"Mother's condition has… suddenly grown critical. She has fallen into a deep sleep, and nothing seems capable of waking her… but even in a death-like trance, she still draws breath. The healers say she suddenly started convulsing one night, and they hadn't seen any response from her since…"

Chance felt sick to his very core.

A coma. She put Rio in a coma.

"I… To tell the truth, I feel… lost. Even now, I still want to save her. Do I rejoin you to continue our search? Or do I stay by her side until…?"

"No. Don't–" Chance choked up. "Don't get thinking like that. We're gonna save her. I promise."

And we'll either do it within the next few hours, or both of us will die.

"Chance… I want to trust you, but… I'm not sure if I can trust in anything anymore. I feel… somehow distant from myself, I… I am afraid, Chance."

He curled up on himself, running his hands down his face. He nearly let the Claws manifest and rip gashes down his cheek. His forearm was still fucking itchy. "H-Hey, I've been meaning to ask. Are you… Are you feeling alright, man?"

"No. I will make it through this, but… I do not know what will await me on the other side of this struggle."

"No, nonono, like– Are you feeling alright, like, physically? Do you feel sick at all?"

"W-What? I only have a slight cough, but… I've been living with my mother for years, and it's never proven contagious before. Why would that change now?"

"It's not her," Chance choked out. He bit at his knuckles, anxiety boiling in his chest. "Those crystals, t-the pink ones in the Peaks. Were you– Did you ever get close to them, touch them for too long?"

"E-Er… Perhaps. What do they have to do with–"

"Lightfoot, please go see a doctor. Or healer, or whatever. Just… Please, trust me. And whatever they tell you, d-don't panic, just wait for me, okay? Don't try to regroup with me, I'll come to you, alright? I'm gonna find out how to cure this shit."

"...Chance, what happened?"

He bit back a sob, orange tears welling in his eyes. Everything was sunset.

"I fucked up."


Beep!


"JEREMY!" Chance called out as he and Tusk wandered deeper into the Hive. Fuck being stealthy, he wasn't scared of the bees anymore. He'd be fine.

Though, Jeremy might not be fine, so they needed to find him quick and get the hell out of here. His tendency for getting separated from the rest of their group was uncanny; he almost wanted to say it was intentional, but it also didn't seem to be Jeremy's fault.

"JA-AY!" he called out again. Tusk cupped a hand over their face as if to help shout, but they didn't make a sound. They've been in this area for a while now; as amazing as it was to be in a literal giant beehive, Chance didn't exactly have time to waste exploring. Was Jeremy still behind them? Did he wander even deeper? He was unpredictable, but if they kept walking long enough, they were sure to run into him.

Fuck, if this keeps up, I might have no choice but to leave without him. …No, that's horrible. But if I die, then everyone else who got Infected will probably die, too… Dammit, why can't you just stick with us, Jay?

A noise. Chance and Tusk both tensed. From around the corner, they could hear a squelching, oozing sound, something that made his skin crawl. And itch.

Taking out his gun, Chance nodded at Tusk, and crept up to the very edge of the corner. He held the revolver to his chest, like a secret agent about to kick down a door or something.

His heartbeat thumped in his chest, and when he couldn't take the tension anymore, he rounded the corner barrel-first and–!

"...Jay? The fuck?"

Jeremy, thank God, was unharmed, nor did he seem at all afraid, though his yellow eyes glared at his gun nervously. He was crouching down, standing over a pile of molten honey, grabbing entire handfuls of the nectar and shoving it into his mouth. Amber dribbled down his chin, and his fluffy hands were slathered in a thick layer of honey.

"C-Chunse!" Jeremy stopped to gulp. "Chance! C'mere, try this stuff, it's great!"

"Dude, what the hell! Keep your– slimy hands to yourself, man!"

Jeremy looked hurt, but then he frowned down at his honey-coated paws. "Mm. I guess I should wash my hands after that…"

"And maybe take a shower, too," Chance said, like the fucking hypocrite that he was. "Look, we don't have time to be hangin' out here any longer. We gotta get out of this place and keep going. The Grave in Ash, remember?"

(Though, he wondered if the Grave in Ash was even a worthwhile journey at this point. Sure, Hornet had told them to go there, but it wasn't like he could find a cure there, wherever or whatever it was. If he could, then surely Hornet would've just used that to stop the Infection herself by now, right?)

"I know, I know, I just–" Jeremy almost tried to wipe his hands off on his clothes, but stopped himself before he ruined them. He then tried to wipe them off on the walls, finding out they were also made of honey. Realizing the predicament he had gotten himself into, he whimpered. "I think the Queen's up ahead."

Chance froze. "The… Queen?"

"Yeah, of the Hive. I didn't catch a good glimpse of her, but since we're here, maybe we should try to talk to her? Maybe she could help with the Infection!"

He pursed his lips, not enthusiastic to meet the Queen of a hivemind that hadn't given him the warmest of welcomes. Though, he couldn't deny his curiosity. "Uh… Well, all the Bees here are Infected, too. If she could help us, she would've helped them, too."

Jeremy's antenna drooped down, nearly tickling Chance's face. "Oh, that's true… Still, we're already here, right? She's just up ahead, at the end of this hallway. Worst case, we can take a quick peek, and then duck outta here."

"Well… alright, fine, I guess. But I don't have much time to keep messing around like this."

"I-I know. Whatever happens, we'll get you cured, okay? I'm sure of it!"

Jeremy's smile was so big, so heartwarming, his words so kind. But every time he heard that voice, Chance couldn't help but think of those phone calls, from a Jeremy far more despondent than the one in front of him.

I already know for a fact that Jeremy – this Jeremy, at least – knows nothing about them. I also still don't understand how I can make and take calls in Hallownest at all, even from other cell phones in the same room. Plus there was that time I got called in the Dream Realm…

Somehow, I don't think it's an illusion, or a trick. It doesn't seem like any of it is Layla's doing.

So what does it mean? Who out there has my number, and why is it Jay?


The throne room of the Hive Queen. Chance wasn't sure what he expected, but he could definitely feel it: the heart of the Hive thrumming in this very room, every centered around this seat of power.

"Too bad she's dead."

The Hive Queen was massive, the largest creature CHance had seen in Hallownest. She was curled into herself against a wall across a large chasm, like a mummy, but she still towered over him and barely even fit in the room. He couldn't even see her whole form, everything from about her waist and below too far down the chasm for him to see from this platform up here. She could probably kill them with a breath.

But she wasn't breathing anymore. This mountain was a corpse.

Chance and Tusk strolled in, taking the whole space in. "It's… wow," he mumbled. It was a hell of a sight, seeing a bee larger than most buildings, but was there really a point to sightseeing?

With a sudden schlick!, a membrane of honey sealed the exits.

Chance immediately spun, smacking his hands on the gates. Jeremy was still outside. "Jay?! Jay! Can you hear me?!"

"Chance?! What's going on?! Are you okay?!"

Before he could answer, a haughty buzzing simmered through the air, approaching car headlights of white noise. A handful of small bees swung down, swerving around Chance and Tusk, who leapt away from the squadron.

He anxiously set foot closer into the arena. It was never easy.

"BUZZAH!"

A black and yellow blur spun down into the ring from above, landing like a superhero before them. Aside from the Queen, he was the first bee they'd met to stand on two legs, his head an oak-brown mane of fluff with a pair of antennae and two wide, black eyes to stare them down. His striped jacket of fuzz was shielded by two blue metal shoulderplates and gauntlets, wielding a silvery rapier with an amber honeycomb gemstone embedded into its guard.

Without a word or so much as a glance, Chance and Tusk sprinted in opposite directions, trying to flank the Hive Knight on either side. Tusk's nail was already drawn, spiraling in towards their opponent to land a strike.

Knight against Knight, the bee's rapier immediately swung towards Tusk, but–

Chance's hand flew to his gun, and in that moment, the Hive Knight's eyes flashed.

With recognition.

In a split second, he changed targets, blade at the ready to charge at Chance. He barely scraped away from a few slashes of the Hive Knight's rapier, slicing up the front of his jacket. When Chance tried to draw his gun, a lightning-fast swipe left a thin gash on the back of his hand that made him flinch away, stumbling back.

He reared back, the tip of their blade pointed sharp at Chance's forehead. He lunged–

And Chance twisted his torso to the side, catching the Hive Knight's blade in his metal Claws, the screech of steel sending sparks flying.

The Hive Knight's eyes bulged. "What?!"

"Nice knife."

Yanking the blade closer to him, Chance hardened his other fist and punched the Hive Knight square in the jaw, leaving a cut on her chin that bled like a motherfucker for some reason.

"...You've grown so much in your time, you know that?"

Foaming at the mouth.

"For the Queen…!"

Collapsed on the floor.

"I didn't kill your dad."

–stickiness on his fist.

For a very brief moment, neither of them moved. Both of them lunging at the other, a blade caught in steely Claws, a fist slammed against Scallon's face. Even Tusk stopped running towards the fray, sensing something was wrong.

Chance blinked, looking down at his fist.

It was slathered in a thick layer of honey.

He startled back, letting go of Scallon's rapier as he looked at his hands. It was like he stuck his hands into a pool of honey, reaching up past the wrists. Some residual honey was stuck to Scallon's fur and dripping off of his blade.

What the hell?! When'd this happen?!

Scallon leapt away, gagging. "Y-You would dare desecrate our produce? This is the Hive's pride, our sweet liquid gold! And you would gourmandize it like an animal?!"

Chance grimaced in disgust, trying to wipe the viscous honey off of his fingers. Is… Is it just me, or is there saliva on my fingers, too? No matter how he tried to clean it off, the honey was too sticky, and he couldn't get enough off, only globs that splattered onto his shoes and pants as he tried to shake them off.

"You will regret this crime, outsider!" Scallon readied his blade again, but not before doing something strange – with a stirrup of his blade, the honey on Scallon's face and sword floated off and into the air, condensing into a hovering sphere of honey.

Leaving the honey-orb floating idly, he lunged at the completely unprepared Chance, only to be parried by Tusk, who had finally caught up with the fight. Their blades clashed, the small Vessel pushing the Knight further back to give Chance time to recover from… whatever the hell was happening.

A-And I can't use my gun like this, either! The honey could jam up the mechanics, and that's something I couldn't fix with Focus!

Fuck it! Even coated on honey, the Claws should still be an effective enough weapon if they could catch Scallon's sword! Chance ran back into the fray where Scallon was starting to push back against Tusk–

Who suddenly leapt into the air before careening back into the earth, glowing with explosive Soul like a rocket.

The shockwave of the Desolate Dive hit Scallon like a truck, sending him flying back, but it caught Chance by surprise, too. He stumbled to the ground, feeling his still-sore ribs groan as he collapsed.

The Hive Knight buzzed in fury. "Fine! As if I had any intention of playing nice!" With a snap of their chitinous fingers, the floating honey orb from before began to bubble and shake, with several long spikes jutting out from nothing.

The orb burst, sending spikes flying in all directions. Tusk managed to dodge, but Chance couldn't stand up in time, and a honey-coated spike impaled his palm, and another embedded itself into his thigh.

Screaming, Chance writhed, but he couldn't move. Tusk kept moving to attack, but their momentary distraction by Chance's cry was enough for Scallon to seemingly teleport behind them and lash their back with their blade, tar ichor oozing from the wound as they collapsed.

Holy shit, he's fast!

Tusk dashed away to try and escape, but Scallon laughed. "Not so arrogant now, are you?" We're not the arrogant ones, asshole! "I'll finish you off for your crimes against our Queen!"

With incredible agility, Scallon leapt high into the air, the lethal tip of his blade aimed straight at Tusk from mid-air, like a missle ready to hone in on its target. They reared back, ready to launch themselves at the helpless Vessel–

"Gotcha."

Pale wisps of Soul danced around Chance's fingers, and the spike that had embedded itself into his hand dislodged itself before flying at Scallon.

This thing hit me after being launched from an orb made of honey, which had exploded. It was 'destroyed'. So if I can 'repair' that orb, then…!

The spike in Chance's thigh followed, and soon, every spike that had been launched zeroed in on Scallon, drawn back by the reforming honey. The Hive Knight was completely surrounded as the spikes shot in, impaling him from every side like a pincushion.

He could hear a muffled, gurgly scream from inside, and Scallon dropped straight down like a stone, the impact pushing some of the spikes deeper inside him. God, that looked brutal.

None of the spikes seemed to go too deep inside of Scallon, at least not anywhere important-looking, so Chance doubted any of his wounds were fatal or even really that severe. Still, the Knight wasn't about to walk it off, either; the spikes were embedded into his neck, face, sides, chest, legs, arms… It was like the bee had jumped into a cactus. He almost felt bad for the guy.

That being said, the first thing Chance did after healing his and Tusk's wounds was stand up and kick him.

"Alright, asshole, I can tell you're still alive. How do we get out of here and back to the Kingdom's Edge? "

Scallon couldn't respond, with one of the spikes having gone straight through his cheek. Still, he hummed angrily, glaring up at Chance, still unable to move while stuck to the floor.

"Well, if you're gonna have an attitude, then maybe I won't heal you. Think you can stand up on your own?"

Scallon's muffled screeches grew frantic, as he began shaking on the floor, desperately trying to get up. To his credit, he managed to move his limbs more than Chance would've expected with all those spikes in him, but all it did was make him bleed more, probably tearing up the muscles inside from the jolting movements.

"Look, stop fighting us and I'll heal you, we wanna leave as much as you do! So don't go killing yourself on one of those stupid spikes, or–!"

A low, heavy buzzing filled the air. Chance froze, and Scallon tensed from his pathetic heap on the floor. Even Tusk looked concerned, glancing between the two. Chance tried to step back, looking around the arena for any threats, beginning to panic when he didn't immediately see anything.

Come crawling faster…

A deep quake hit the room. Then another, making Chance's balance wobble. Something was trying to break in, from the wall behind the Queen. Something big.

There was a cold pause.

And then the massive wall that the Hive Queen lay dead against blew wide open, her monolithic body being ripped apart with Infected gore and rubble collapsing down the chasm. The eruption was enough to make Chance fall to the ground, staring up in mind-numbing horror at the monster that crept through, as massive and terrible as a great dragon.

Their black chitin was a membrane, scarcely containing the bulging, Infected muscles underneath. They bled buckets from every pore, orange fighting to overtake what little black remained. Their pale mask was donned with two curled ram horns, the back of their skull caved in with a massive tumor growing from the empty space.

Those black eyes, the orange light staring him down, Chance couldn't wipe that hateful glare from his mind if he wanted to.

The thing that should not be.

With a voice they were not born with, the Forsaken Vessel roared, threatening to bring the whole Hive crashing down on them.


Even after all that… Even now… They're stillhunting us down?!

Chance wanted to run like hell, but all he could do was stumble back and land flat on his ass. The Forsaken Vessel, a vengeful monster the size of a fucking building, zeroed in on the human that had killed it once before.

They've never fought anything like this before. The closest comparison he could think of was the False Knight, but even that hunk of metal was dwarfed by this monstrosity. He could barely recognize them as the Broken Vessel anymore, the shredded and pitiful parts of them barely holding onto the mountain of pus and flesh beneath their bulging chitin; like all that was left of them was the surface, a cruel god's papier mâché project.

They raised a massive, dark claw into the air, eclipsing the amber light from above.

Momentary panic overtaking his all-consuming fear, Chance scrambled out and grabbed Scallon, leaping out of the way as the Forsaken Vessel's palm smashed into the earth, leaving a deep, cracked indent in the honeycomb stone.

Tusk hopped closer to them, nail drawn, apparently unfazed by the nightmare towering over them. The Vessel's movements were slow and sluggish, possibly being their only advantage.

Without thinking, Chance yanked the spikes out of Scallon's body, using Deep Focus to patch up all his wounds as best as he could. "Listen, we–"

Scallon completely ignored him. The bee slapped Chance aside, not even offering thanks for the healing(though he supposed he was the one who hurt him in the first place), and in a yellow blur, dashed up to the Forsaken Vessel.

"Y-You slaughtered our Queen! Desecrated her sleeping form! The only punishment for your trespass is death!"

He leapt onto their hand, running up along their arm, dodging the lumps of Infection. Finally, he leapt up into their face, seemingly hovering, before unleashing an enraged flurry of strikes with his rapier.

Long gashes of Infected pus and blood lashed across the Forsaken Vessel's face, but all they did was swing their arm, batting Scallon out of the air and sending him crashing back down to earth.

Chance and Tusk scrambled up to him, pulling the Hive Knight out of the rubble. "Listen to me! We have to fight this thing together!"

Scallon struggled to stand. "S-S-Such immense strength–! I have not forgotten your crimes, human, but I fear you are right. Let us take to this beast together!"

Chance's brow furrowed at the 'ye old knight' speech, but he figured Hallownest was just like that. He held out his honey-soaked hands, "Help me help you."

With a hesitant stirrup of Scallon's rapier, the honey floated off of Chance's arms, pooling into another floating orb.

The Forsaken Vessel had recovered from Scallon's desperate attack, the lashes along its face having scabbed closed, leaving it even more monstrous-looking than before. The fucking thing looked like a Resident Evil boss; that small corpse that looked so much like Tusk, mutated into this horror.

By herhand, no less.

They lunged out, reaching to grab them with a long, dark arm, swollen with pus. Scallon, Chance and Tusk all darted in different directions, with Scallon rushing to form several spiked honey-orbs in mid air, which the Forsaken Vessel punched straight through.

The orbs exploded, dozens of spikes flying everywhere. Chance and Tusk ducked behind a pile of rubble for cover as some spikes managed to nail the Forsaken Vessel in the face, but…

"Now!" Scallon shouted.

Chance leapt over his cover and grabbed a handful of spikes that had embedded into the rubble he was hiding behind. With a burst of Soul, they flew out of his hands, rows of them flying backwards to trap the Forsaken Vessel's massive arm in several spike traps at once.

They roared, reeling backwards. They smacked their long horns against the ceiling, causing the whole cavern to quake as they curled inwards, struggling with the pain. It was like they were getting batted around from several angles at once.

(HOWSTRONGDOIHAVETOBETOSTOPHURTING?FIXMEFIXMEFIXME–)

Chance suddenly doubled over, grabbing at his head as he screamed. He rolled across the ground, his head exploding with red-hot pain and light. The throbbing behind his eyes felt like it was reaching a boiling point.

Tusk quickly took over, leaping past him and launching a canon of moonlight across the arena. The Vengeful Spirit's milky pale light was blinding, rocketing past them and into the Forsaken Vessel's weakened arm–!

The air around their target seemed to warp, and the Vengeful Spirit phased right through.

Scallon, who had been on the other side of the massive arm that bisected the arena, startled back, unable to escape as the Vengeful Spirit kept rushing forward and smashed right into him. The friendly fire attack sent Scallon flying backwards and into another wall, this time knocking him unconscious, slumped against the rubble.

W-What just happened?! Chance scrambled up as his sudden migraine began to fade. Did Tusk miss?! No, I saw it hit! But it just… passed through? How?!

The spikes began falling out of the Forsaken Vessel's arm, forced out from the sheer pressure of the Infected pus underneath the wounds. They swung their arm to bat Chance and Tusk away, who both scrambled to dodge.

Chance managed to avoid the attack, but Tusk got hit, fumbling backwards and collapsing from the impact.

"TUSK!" Chance screamed. Was he the only one left standing now? Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his gun – the honey that was inhibiting him no longer there – and took a blind potshot at the Forsaken Vessel's arm.

They didn't flinch.

Instead, a single, tiny bee fell out of the sky from seemingly nowhere, bleeding orange from its side from a single bullet hole.

Chance froze. What the hell?! That bee wasn't there before… What the fuck is going on?!

In his confusion, he couldn't react in time as the Forsaken Vessel brought a fist down on top of him. He only managed to barely avoid the impact, but the honeycomb stone beneath him crumbled and collapsed, with Chance falling down into the room below.

He felt something crack in his back when he hit the ground, and muffled a scream as more rubble fell down onto him. Arms over his head, curled up, red-hot pain flaring through him, rocks raining on him–

Silence. A groan.

Chance, with a bloody and Clawed hand, reached up to pull himself free from the rubble pile, fingers shaking. He coughed, dust forcing its way out of his lungs.

He'd fallen into the floor below the arena, some kind of secret chamber? With a burst of adrenaline, he yanked himself out of the rubble pile and ducked out of the way, where it'd be harder to see him from the hole in the ceiling. It wasn't much darker down here, though he could see the remains of the Hive Queen's lower half from an opening in the wall.

Scrambling back, using the last of his Soul to fix whatever he broke with his fall, he got to his feet and backpedaled slowly. It was suddenly quiet; the thunderous struggle above had gone silent with both Tusk and Scallon knocked out.

Something bumped into him from behind, and he screamed, flailing. It was– A pedestal?

On top of the pedestal, placed gingerly onto the stone, was a small, orange charm, hexagonal and rubbery. Hesitantly, Chance took it – Hiveblood, he could sense it – and pocketed it.

Fuck, what now? He needed to go back and save Tusk, and probably also Scallon. But he didn't have a plan to fight that massive thing; everything they've thrown at it was just shrugged off. Was grabbing them and running like hell his only option? No; at this point, it didn't matter how far they ran, the Forsaken Vessel would be right behind them. That thing couldn't live, couldn't die, and existed purely to kill him. Was it unstoppable? Was this the extent of the Infection's power?

Is this her way of forcing me to accept her deal?

Is… Is betraying Tusk my only way of keeping them alive?

Suddenly, the ceiling smashed open again, making Chance stumble. A dark, leprous arm reached into the basement, chitinous fingers as long as his own arms curling around his form and yanking him out.

Chance slammed against the hand, struggling, but even his frantic scratching with the Claws left only orange papercuts.

The hand tossed him aside, leaving him to roll across the floor like a discarded doll. He only had a split second to get his bearings – Tusk still bleeding tar in one corner, Scallon still unconscious in a small crater in the wall – before he had to scramble to his feet to face the colossal monster that towered over him.

The Forsaken Vessel made the first move. Hate glared down at him as they raised one giant, diseased arm, larger than a school bus, and brought its splayed palm down on top of Chance.

He couldn't run.

Chance reached up and grabbed the hand with his Claws, feeling the familiar electric heartbeat burning through his veins as the Crystal Heart revved into overdrive.

Pink electricity dancing around him, making his limbs and body glow a bright neon pink, feeling the whole world crushing down onto him.

A bug, fighting to not get squashed.

He wanted to save the Broken Vessel, but at this point, he hoped that this lightning was hurting them as much as it hurt him. He hoped every inch they pushed further down onto him was agony, pushing back against the giant hand trying to flatten him.

Pounding out aggression.

Turns into obsession.

Neon voltage burned his muscles. Chance pushed back, and screamed.

Cannot kill the

BAT-TER-Y.


He was roused with a cry. Orange blood pooled around him, seeping between the cracks in rubble. The black faded from his blurred vision, and Scallon woke from an empty, dreamless sleep.

He groaned, shifting awake, broken rocks and dust falling off of him. He'd probably broken all sorts of things, his insides feeling like slurry. Distantly, he could hear screaming, the low hum of electricity, the buzzing of bees…

Knight's instinct struggled to take hold in his groggy mind. Grabbing for his rapier – probably dented – he rubbed his eyes, blinking the last remnants of orange sleep away.

And Scallon choked.

The Infection flickered in and out of his injured mind, like a bad TV signal. He could see Chance, awash in neon lightning that made crystals grow from the earth around his feet. He could see Tusk injured in the corner, struggling to move.

And he could see the Forsaken Vessel… except… could he really?

That force Chance was desperately pushing back against…

It wasn't a hand.

"S-Snap out of it!" Scallon screamed, his voice rasping. "I-It's all an illusion! You have to see through it! Wake up!"

Even in his intense focus, his shouting managed to catch Chance's attention. The lightning at his fingertips wavered, and the crushing hand pressed further, Chance's knees buckling under the sudden weight. He groaned, practically shouldering the might of the massive Forsaken Vessel now.

An illusion? How the hell could any of this be an illusion?!

…! Unless…?

He couldn't see that light in Scallon's eyes anymore. Was he seeing something that Chance wasn't? Looking up at the horrible beast, pushing all of its weight on him, hellbent on crushing him into a splatter of gore, it was hard to see it as anything but a reaper sent to kill him.

But if his gamble paid off, then… Could he take this thing down for good?

Chance heaved, pushing back against the oppressive hand with everything he had. A scream ripped through his throat as he threw the hand up and off of him, just for a moment, and he shot his metal Claws straight through their palm like an arrow.

The Forsaken Vessel's crushing hand came back down, and smashed flat against the ground with a deafening thud.

A sizable crater was left behind where Chance had vanished.

…bzzzzzzzz…

…BZZZZZZZZ–

Chance's eyes snapped open, and coughed against the hot and heavy air. He felt cramped, many small somethings pressed into him from all sides, the only light being his own Crystal Heart, and countless small lightbulbs of Infected eyes.

Bees.

Small ones, but hundreds of them, surrounding him on all sides.

"These bees… Look at them. Nothing impressive on their own, but they each serve a purpose. All of them are cogs in a greater machine that operates this Hive."

Chance had walked backstage, and stepped right inside of the machine. It all made sense now.

The Forsaken Vessel was never real. What they were actually fighting this whole time was a giant swarm of bees, hiding under the covers of another hallucination, handcrafted by Layla.

Every bee moved under her control, hundreds of tiny drones that moved in unison to mimic a giant monster. Like how some schools of fish can swim in patterns to fool predators into thinking they're actually a larger and more dangerous creature, or maybe like those Moss Chargers from Greenpath that work together to look far larger than they really are.

Once they were in formation, all that Layla had to do was drape them in an illusion that fooled the Infected Chance and Scallon into thinking they were fighting a horrible monster, a resurrected Broken Vessel. Tusk probably just thought they were fighting a swarm the whole time.

…She used the Broken Vessel to scare him.

…She used me.

SHE USED ME.

Even muffled by the deafening buzzing of bees, Chance screamed as he shredded through. Anything unfortunate enough to buzz in front of him was ripped and torn away, bee blood and gore splattering all over him and other surrounding bees. Everything was so cramped, so dark, so hot, he couldn't see a thing. All he could do was feel the stickiness splash all over him, feel flesh between his Claws, feel several stingers turn on him and impale him straight through, feel heat.

Outside, the illusion was beginning to fall apart. Mutilated bee corpses flew and dropped like flies out of the Forsaken Vessel's wavering arm. Chance screamed, tasting Infected blood on his lips. The Crystal Heart was pounding like a war drum again as he shredded his way up the Forsaken Vessel's arm, through their shoulder, and into their head, a parasitic killer from the inside out.

He wasn't even sure where he was going anymore, only that he needed to keep killing everything in front of him. He had more stingers in him than a cactus, the bees desperately trying to stop him from dispelling the illusion, but the adrenaline whirling through his Heart wouldn't let him stop.

The Crystals began to glow, and the engine in his chest began to roar. Electricity flew from Chance's metal Claws, flowing into the splatter of bee blood that coated him and every other bee surrounding him.

Blood is conductive, not because of its iron content, but because of its salt content, with salt being an electrolyte. And bug hemolymph is no different.

The electricity shot out like a web through the blood streams he'd created, like some horrific bug zapper. Chance screamed as the electricity ran over his own skin, scorching it, burning everything around him alive as hundreds of tiny hearts all stopped at once.

He was lightning. He was the Sun.

The Forsaken Vessel jolted, froze, and melted as dozens of dead Infected bees slipped out of the illusion, which could no longer sustain itself, shattering entirely.

For a long moment, Chance didn't move, bee corpses piling over him like blood-soaked pillows. Oh, God, could he even move after all that? He felt like he had stingers impaled into every muscle like some botched acupuncture job. He was a little singed, too…

It turned out that massacring dozens of bees gives you more liquid Soul than you'd know what to do with, so Chance sighed as the cool milky magic flowed over him, filling his wounds like potholes and forcing out several of the stingers. Some were still jammed inside of his torso and limbs, so begrudgingly, he rolled over, several bee corpses flopping down off of him and rolling across the ground. He yanked some of the spikes out, wincing as blood oozed out.

Remembering Tusk and Scallon, Chance struggled to force himself off of the floor with shaking limbs, but he managed to look up–

To see Scallon's rapier, pressed directly against his neck.

"Y-You…" The Hive Knight, no longer Infected, glared down at him. He was still clutching at his chest with his free hand, bleeding from several wounds. "The crimes committed here today… by you and that– that thing, they cannot be forgiven."

He nudged Chance's coat pocket with his sword. "And do not think I… I hadn't noticed you pocket the Hiveblood. That sacred artifact must not leave this Kingdom, not be sullied by outsider's hands. Return it peacefully, and I shall make your death swift."

From behind him, a warm, ethereal hand gently grabbed his rapier's guard.

"Still your blade, my Knight."

Scallon froze like a statue at the voice, the venom in his glare immediately falling away. "M… M-My Queen?"

Out stepped a ghost. The translucent, glowing form of the late Hive Queen Vespa, with Dreamcatchers circling around her. Chance couldn't believe his eyes – an actual, real-life ghost – but if Scallon, no longer Infected, could see it, then it couldn't just be an illusion.

"My Knight… At last you are freed. It would be arrogant of me to speak orders as a mortal Queen from the world beyond, but I implore you to spare this human. His actions were out of necessity, strung along by the puppeteer that has kept you and the rest of this Hive captive for so long."

Scallon immediately dropped to one knee, hands folded and head bowed across the hilt of his blade. "Y-You will always be my Queen, Your Majesty!" he cried.

"No. No, I will not. Human," Queen Vespa's ghost addressed him, "Would you please recover your Vessel friend? I wish to speak with them."

It had taken a few awkward fumbles, long moments of healing magic on Tusk as well as tending to Chance's own remaining injuries, but soon enough, they all stood before the Hive Queen.

(He noticed, leaning against the far back wall, that Vespa's massive corpse was still intact, not the bisected mess of gore that the Forsaken Vessel had turned it into. Another part of Layla's illusion, meant to manipulate them.

Infected individuals could have shared hallucinations. He'd need to remember that.)

"Small thing. I know your kind." She ran a claw across Tusk's chin, her stony rose expression imperceptibly wilting when her hand phased through. "If you attempt to resolve your past then know I am not the queen you seek. It is the pale beings that bear blame for your nature."

Chance blinked. "Do–" He paused, catching Scallon's glare out the corner of his eye, and added, "Y-Your Majesty, do you mean the Pale King?"

Queen Vespa nodded. "I understand you are unfamiliar with this land's history. Though this Hive exists within Hallownest, we play no part in its attempt at perpetuation."

Just then, Chance scratched at his arm. An itch that had been bothering him all day, ever since they beat the Broken Vessel for the first – the only time. Tuning out Vespa's voice, he ran his fingers over his jacket, before slipping them underneath to feel the rash he had. He thought it would've healed with Focus…?

His eyes bulged, and Chance froze.

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

Slowly, his blood icy cold, Chance peeled off his jacket, eyes running over the skin underneath. Harsh orange broils sprung forth from his arm, leprosy running deep into his flesh. Infected tumors, bloated with pus.

His Focus wouldn't heal it. These were symptoms of the Infection's final stage.

I need to find a cure today,because if I don't, and I fall asleep… No, if I get hit and pass out for even a few minutes, just once…!

It'll all be over.


Chapter name and summary are a reference to I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch) by Four Tops.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Where Did Our Love Go by The Supremes
Battery by Metallica

I want to apologize if this chapter was too long for comfort; at about 14,695 words, it's much longer than usual, even for me. We considered splitting this into two ~7k word chapters, but decided there were some thematic elements that would get broken by it, so we decided to keep it in one piece. On the other side of things, there's also a lot of tiny little details in this chapter that'll be very important later, so if something caught your eye or seemed strange, remember that, 'cause it was probably intentional.

Some nitpicky details: A "Seraphim" is actually an *order* of angels in some Abrahamic religions, and the correct term for a *singular* angel of this rank is a "Seraph". However, that name sounded kinda weak compared to Seraphim, so I ignored grammar. "Seraph" just sounds like a bastardized Sarah.

I also gave Scallon (The Hive Knight) a rapier instead of that toothpick-looking baton thing he uses in-game; I saw some fanart of it somewhere and I just liked it better.

Next chapter is Midnight Rider. Thank you for reading, and PLEASE leave a comment!