"I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world."
"I don't like this statue, Jeremy. Its smug aura mocks me."
Jeremy was probably frowning under his hood. "Whaaat…?" he asked, crossing his arms as he eyed the statue. "I think it looks nice. Like a… protector!"
"Mh-mh. Nope. It has to go."
Jeremy tilted his head, far too innocent. "Why?"
"It's evil."
"I…" Jeremy shrugged, mumbling something under his breath. Not that Chance blamed him, personally. Lucky bastard wasn't there when they had to fight the big metal monster, the first time in Hallownest where Chance honestly believed he might die.
Past the acid lake, they had found an antechamber of sorts. A large space of surprisingly intact Hallownest build and design. The same round shell, the same stylized crests, the same material. A large, locked gate of sorts sat against the back wall, unmoving. And thankfully, not permeated by the same fungus they had been dealing with for what felt like weeks now.
At least the statue was new.
The same statue that looked suspiciously like the armored bug they had fought in the Crossroads, distinctive, horned mask and all. The same mask that Tusk was currently perched on. A familiar face, or mask, or simulacrum indeed. Aside from the admittedly impressive replica, there wasn't any real point of interest.
Which, of course, led to their current conundrum.
"And you're sure," Jeremy questioned for the umpteenth time, "that this is the right way?"
"It's literally a straight path, there's nowhere else to go." Unless they had missed a passage or something, this should've been the main path to the so-called "City of Tears".
Follow the blue-bricked road, follow the blue-bricked road, follow follow Follow FOLLOW-!
The Rube-Goldberg contraption of a bridge had to be an indicator, if nothing else. It screamed decadence, waste. Something artistic, precious, fine. A complex mechanism that could break down at the first hint of erosion or damage. And yet, it still worked for them. Another lucky break.
And all it did was lead to this dead end? This had to be a facade, somehow.
And if Tusk's fascination with the statue was to be believed, they had the same thought. Somehow, impossibly, it was, had , to be a key in this puzzle.
But how?
Or, maybe he was overthinking everything.
But that was unlikely. Hallownest had proven to be one large puzzle box, and they were the hands that would peel back layer after layer. An enigma, wrapped in steel, rock, and viral life.
Every detail had a purpose, and really, what were the odds that this magnificent, horrifying , statue was placed here just for show? It had to be a clue. Hell, there was an indentation in the center cusped by its hands, as if it wanted something.
That couldn't be the answer, though. It couldn't be that simple. There wasn't any sort of mechanism from what he could see, just a smooth, hollow curve.
Circles, circles…
Everything was a damn circle.
Technically an oval, but that was splitting hairs. It didn't squash his growing frustration
There was something they had to be missing.
Tusk finally hopped down from their perch. They too seemed enamored by the hollow space.
"Almost like you could slot something in there," Jeremy replied, "Not sure what, though."
A quiet befell them. Jeremy would have none of that.
"...Of course, that's assuming it would do anything, right? Maybe it recognizes objects based on some kind of magic? Perhaps that's how Hallownest built its structures? Because, honestly, a lot of their contraptions defy conventional physics, you'd think-"
"H-Hey, stop that!" Chance blurted out, cutting Jeremy off. Tusk had grabbed onto his bag, and was trying their damnedest to pull it from his shoulders. They succeeded, sending it crashing to the floor. The clasp came undone, spilling its contents. Charms, an old bottle of lifeblood, their maps, those pink crystals he'd gotten from when they met Myla, and…
"Oh…"
Tusk picked up the last trinket, an oval talisman. Specifically, a shell-like, heavy-looking one died a deep blue and red hue. It was still attached to its thin chain, from when they defeated that-
"False Knight," He had honestly forgotten they had picked that particular trinket up. Why he hadn't made the connection earlier, he wasn't sure, but thankfully, Tusk had.
"False Knight? What are you talking about?" Jeremy had turned his attention back to Chance while Tusk took up the crest, "And what does it have to do with that thing?"
"Erhm… It's a…" Chance struggled, trying to think up an explanation. The true events did indeed happen, yet were equal parts absurd, embarrassing, and just plain gruesome. He really didn't like thinking about it.
"It's… nothing, really..." He trailed off, distracted by Tusk breaking off the chains and slotting the artifact into the slot. It fit perfectly, snugly even. A solitary click came from the statue; a sign of acceptance? Or was the floor about to fall out from under them?
…
Jeremy was the first to speak.
"Maybe it-?"
A rumble. A loud rumbling beside them.
The gate, previously as immovable as the rocks around it, was slowly rising. It was awe-inspiring, in a way. It absolutely enraptured the trio.
Eventually, the gate finished its ascent, coming to a stop with one last crash. It hung over the now empty space, a new aperture onward. It was almost idyllic. If they ignored the spikes on the bottom of the gate, of course. That ruined the mood.
"Damn." That was all he could say.
"D-Darn," Jeremy followed, still in a daze.
Chance was fairly certain Tusk would have voiced the sentiment if they could talk.
"...So in order to keep rhythm throughout the entire ship, they'd all sing songs with a steady rhythm to keep everyone synchronized. Isn't that cool?"
"Mhmm."
The walk through the blue hallways was strangely quiet. Chance had gotten so used to the constant noises of the Wastes; the fizzing acid, the bursts of gas, the endless chittering of bugs that refused to leave them alone.
By contrast, this place was almost hauntingly silent. Only some distant rumbling that Chance couldn't quite make out. It was cold here, too, not unlike a windy day in Dirtmouth.
"Sooo…" Jeremy had tried making conversation, "What's that in your hand?"
Oh. Chance didn't even notice he still had his phone. "It's…" He still didn't feel like explaining what it was. He couldn't even demonstrate it with the dead battery, so what was the point? "It's a… thing. Had it before I came to Hallownest."
Jeremy paused. "Before…?"
"Before I… lost my memories. Y'know."
Jeremy looked at him, before pulling his hood down even further over his face. It wasn't an easy subject to talk about, but it was a reminder of what he was here for. Once he cured himself, he needed to find himself.
God, the road ahead seemed so long.
"...I thought it might be like… a clue or something," Chance mumbled. "I mean…" He sighed. It didn't matter. Talking didn't get him anywhere these days.
sccrRREEEEEE-!
It all happened so fast. One second, it was too quiet, the next, his ears were ringing. He hit the floor as fire erupted all around him, his eyes unable to focus as he was sent flying. He felt numb, like he had receded into himself how a turtle recedes into its shell. He took a step back in his own mind to escape the pain of his body, leaving himself running on autopilot.
Groaning on the floor, having been thrown several feet away, he reached around to his bleeding arm, phone still in his hand, and mindlessly pushed his Soul at it, telling himself it didn't happen, that he was fine, that he-
Bzzt!
Chance blinked, and the world came into focus again. Rolling onto his back, he ignored Jeremy's cries of concern to check his phone-
45% battery.
"C-Chance! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!" Jeremy sounded like he was about to cry, kneeling down by his side, shaking him for any kind of response. Chance only stared absently at the small battery icon in the corner of his phone screen, his mind elsewhere.
His phone slipped out of his hands and fell on his face with a slap.
Tusk had run off again.
Chance sprinted down the blue hallways, Jeremy following as best as he could. It occurred to him how long they'd been going by now; was this really a City? It just felt like a fancy version of the tunnels they'd been crawling through this whole damn time.
And just like they always have, Tusk had wandered off when Chance wasn't looking. Where'd they even run off to? It wasn't like there were many doors or other pathways down this one hall-
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Chance stumbled onto a fork in the road, Jeremy nearly running into his back from his sudden stop. Two pathways, left or right, with no middle road.
"Y-You take the left, I'll go right!" Chance said in a panic. He needed to make sure Tusk was okay. It was a new area, they didn't know what to expect, what if they got hit by-
("W-Wait! Chance!" Jeremy called out to him as he ran down the right hallway. Chance didn't listen.)
-another one of those exploding bat things, but what if there was so much worse down here, he was their team healer, right? It was his responsibility to make sure they were okay, he had to catch up to them before they went too far, if there was one fork in the road already who knows how many other places they could've gone by now, if he took too long to find them he might never find them again, and he-
(("CHANCE!" Jeremy had screamed distantly behind him, his feet frozen to the ground. His eyes watered under his hood. He couldn't do this alone. He couldn't do anything alone. Was Chance abandoning him? Why couldn't he just be strong like Chance was?))
-couldn't do this alone, he was lost without Tusk, without them he'd surely succumb to the Infection and become a zombified husk, he'd never get his memories back he'd never be himself again, he couldn't fight he couldn't survive on his own, Tusk was all he had he just wanted to go home, he was scared he was cold he was hungry when was the last time he ate? When was the last time he slept? Did he even have time to take care of himself anymore when the Infection was getting worse, he couldn't stop, he had to keep going if it killed him-
…..ffffssshhhhhhhh…..
Chance's legs, pounding against the cold stone, finally gave out, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. His body screamed at him, his lungs trying to return life to his tired and battered body. He lay there for a long moment, listening to the sound of rain falling on glass, covering his face in his arms, unaware (and perhaps uncaring) if anything were to sneak up on him and kill him.
Several minutes had passed before he tried to pull his head up, and he was frozen, awash in a deep blue light. A single, piercing tangerine eye stared up in awe at the massive window before him, crystal raindrops reflecting and refracting a soft pale light over his defeated figure.
Staggering to his feet, he limped over to the window, counting the paces in his head. One, two, three, four… The warped glass bent outwards, with thin metal supports stretched across it, resembling the shell of a bug.
Through the endless rainfall, Chance gasped slowly at the sight of Hallownest's Capital.
The City of Tears.
Indigo towers stretched all the way up the impossibly high cavern ceiling, adorned in silver spikes along every surface, the entire colossal structure challenging the eternal rainfall that tried to drown it out. Every last sorrowful drop was filtered all the way down. The City itself was layered, in how the buildings didn't just get shorter the further out you went from the center, but how they fluctuated, with long bridges spanning across large gaps in the City's empty space, like a spiderweb of steel and glass.
A deep blue haze settled over everything in sight, only resisted by the handful of pale Lumafly lanterns that dotted the streets and illuminated some of the windows, turning the deep cobalt atmosphere into a light arctic blue around the ground near them. And at the center of it all, Chance could barely spy between the buildings, a massive monolith standing proud, reaching far beyond the rest of the City, just barely contained within the almost cosmically large cavern.
Perfect in function and form. Engineering, meets architecture, meets art.
"Chance?"
He jumped at the voice, staggering away from the window as he stared over his shoulder with paranoid orange eyes. He recognized Quirrel relaxing on a bench in the same room, and let his shoulder sag again after a moment. Two thin, porcelain horns poked up from over the backrest of the bench, and Tusk stood on the seat to turn around and look at Chance, their hands resting on the top of the bench like a fence.
Chance sighed with something bordering between exasperation and relief, and stumbled over.
"You scared me," Chance said, giving Tusk a soft pat on the head. They leaned into his touch for a moment, before pulling away and scooching over so Chance could sit on the bench as well.
Before he had even fully sat down, Tusk had pressed themselves into his side, sandwiching themselves between Chance and Quirrel on a bench that was just barely large enough to accommodate them all. Chance raised his arm out of the way for a moment, before sighing and resting it on Tusk's head again.
"Glad to see you made it safe," Quirrel smiled. "Sorry we could not travel together."
"D'worry about it, we made it alright," Chance sighed, staring out the large window before them. Was the glass stained, or was the City really that blue?
He shook his head, making Quirrel look at him. "I can't believe we'll have to go out in all…" he threw up his arms, making a vague, wild gesture to the drenched city sprawling before them, separated only by a sheet of glass. "...all that."
Quirrel chuckled. "The rain is not so awful, once you get used to it."
Tusk nudged a bit closer to him, and Chance decided that staying here for a few minutes longer wouldn't hurt.
He wasn't going to get used to it.
He should've stayed there longer. There, on that uncomfortable metal bench, Tusk and Quirrel sitting close to him, watching the rainfall from inside. With the safety of a firm room and a window of glass.
Chance cringed as he felt the rain fall on the nape of his neck and soak through his jacket. At the very least, the water was just a bit warmer than he was expecting, and if he wasn't getting all his clothes and belongings drenched right now, it might even be soothing.
He hated the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin. If he ever wanted to explore this place - and he really, really did - he'd need an umbrella or a raincoat, because right now he just wanted to get in and out as fast as possible.
(He wished his jacket had a hoodie. Alas, it was something more akin to a bomber jacket, but made of a material that was thicker and less shiny. He didn't know what. It was wet.)
"FFfffffuckthis…" Chance shuddered. He looked over at Tusk, "Let's go."
He took about five steps out of the elevator that led them into the city proper, when he realized he had no idea where the nailsmith was.
...This wasn't going to work. They only had a few days, right? There was no way they could explore an entire city in a few days. If it was the capital of a fallen kingdom, how many people would be here? It seemed abandoned up until the point where he met Quirrel, minus the occasional Infected husk.
Oh… Oh, God, was this entire city filled with those zombies? All of a sudden, Chance was apprehensive about exploring the City of Tears, afraid he'd wind up a part of the common masses of the mindless. ...Fuck, what was he even doing? How were those Mantis Lords supposed to help him find a cure when they clearly didn't have one? What was the point in fighting them if it didn't help him either way?
Tusk stopped a few paces ahead of him, turning to look at him. Chance shook his head, sending drops of water flying from his dripping wet hair. "'s nothing. Let's keep going."
Chance wanted to break down.
He was couched under an awning in a small alleyway deeper in the City, rain still pouring over his front. He held Iselda's nail in a deathgrip, paranoia fogging his vision as he looked frantically left and right.
He'd lost Jeremy and Tusk.
He was so preoccupied with finding Tusk earlier that he'd left Jeremy to his own devices. Poor, defenseless Jeremy, alone in a strange new area that wanted them all dead, judging by the ambush of Infected soldiers that had overwhelmed them. Chance had more run in circles than actually fought, like the fucking coward he was, and ended up losing Tusk somewhere in the fray.
(All those people, fallen under this spell… It really did get everyone. Who's to say it wouldn't get him in the end, too?)
"T...Tuuusskh?" Chance called out meekly from his hiding place, his voice barely audible over the pouring rain, his chest feeling like it was about to collapse. He couldn't raise his voice at all, or he'd risk alerting those zombified sentries to his whereabouts.
"J-...Jay…?" (God, this was literally just a zombie apocalypse, no matter how you looked at it. He hadn't watched many zombie shows(that he could remember) but everything was awful and painful and terrifying because he had the same shit they had and absolutely nothing was going his way.)
He cried out, and the only response was the endless drone of rainfall.
Chance's grip on his nail loosened as his knees quaked. From the rain running down his face, he didn't know if he was crying or not anymore.
He just wanted to go home.
…
…
…
…
brrriiing!
Chance damn near jumped out of his own skin. The nail fell out of his grasp and hit the wet stone pavement with a loud clatter, startling Chance all over again.
brrriiing!
Chance screamed for a moment from the assault on his poor nervous senses, ripping the phone out of his pocket with shaky hands. Water ran down the screen harmlessly as he stared at the screen.
...
No caller ID. Not even a number attached.
(He was like a whole MILE under the FUCKING EARTH in a MEDIEVAL CITY in a world of BUGS who still used SWORDS, how in the good name of FUCK was he getting fucking PHONE CALLS-)
...
He didn't know why he did it when he pressed his thumb to the green answer button. He didn't know why any of this was happening, or how it was even possible. But for some reason he couldn't comprehend, by some will within or beyond himself, he raised the phone to his ear, and with an unsteady breath, asked,
"H-Hello?"
"Do you want some help? You seem like you could use it."
The voice on the other end made his blood run cold. A voice so comforting, so warm, so gentle. So caring. So cruel. So hauntingly familiar, but the lack of a name to place to it made shivers run up his already frigid spine.
"Hello? Are you still there?" (He wasn't.)
Chance quickly fought to regain his senses, shaking his head to snap himself back into focus, spraying water droplets around him as he did. He stammered, "I- Okay, look, I… Where- Who even-"
A chuckle, as soft as evening clouds drifted through his phone speaker. (He thought phone calls were usually less clear.) "I'll take that as a yes, then. Try moving forward."
He blinked, staring ahead into the alleyway in front of him, eyes wide with fear. He stood there for a long moment, letting the rain wash over his body and seep between the cracks in the stones below him.
"Well? Pick up your nail and go. I can't walk this path for you."
The voice came back suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. "I- Fuck, okay, right, I'll... get goin'." He grabbed his nail from the ground, telling himself to be careful not to let it slip out of his grasp again, with the rain running under his hand.
"Hey listen, do I uh, know you from somewhere?"
"Hm. You wouldn't remember, would you?"
"I- Did we-" He sneezed. "Have we met?"
The voice on the other end hummed thoughtfully. "Once, perhaps. Or maybe several times? Depends on what you define as 'meet', I suppose."
"That does… really doesn't answer my question, also how'd you even get this-"
"Oh, try turning right here."
"R-Right," he parroted, nearly slipping on the wet pavement as he kept trying to run down the alleyways as quietly as possible. "Uh, how'd you get my number? N-No, actually, how're we even having this call…"
"You don't remember? You gave it to me once, when we 'met'."
Chance ran a soaked sleeve over his face in a futile attempt to wipe the rain away, careful not to bring Iselda's nail too close to his face. He felt like laughing, this was all so stupid. "D-Did I now?"
"Mhmm. You've given me a lot of things."
Chance didn't know how to respond to that.
"...estimated, though I've since guessed the truth."
"Ooh, stop here, just at this corner!"
"O-Okay-!" Chance pressed his back to the wall and leaned out from behind a corner, scanning the area before him. He's been running through alleyways seemingly at random for at least the past 15 minutes, depending on when he'd started paying attention to his phone's clock. At least, it had seemed random, when it was all at the whim of this mysterious voice that had, against all logic, managed to give him a phone call.
("O-Okay, like, how the hell do you even know where I am?" "Don't worry, I can see everything you see. I always know where you are." Holyshitwhatthefuck-)
What he saw past his vantage point made Chance do a double-take. The alleyway had opened up into a massive city square, in which large streams of water flowed around in a great circle, several bridges passing over it to reach the island that was the center of the square.
Chance didn't make the connection before, but the City of Tears was a lot like what he'd heard of Venice. Many of the city's main roads were split down the middle by large rivers with the occasional bridge to pass over them, and judging by how deep they ran below the footroads and bridges, Chance could hazard a guess and say that small passenger boats were meant to travel through them.
Unless the hypothetical boats had tarps, he couldn't understand why someone would want to go on a boat trip in the endless pouring rain, but if you lived in the City of Tears you'd probably have to, like, really fucking love water anyway.
Ignoring the surrounding architecture, Chance let his gaze fall to the center of the area, where a massive statue stood of a towering figure, horns far longer than his own arm, its blank expression somehow severe. Circling the figure stood three shorter beings, masked and in cloaks, their identities unrecognizable.
Standing at the foot of the statue was Tusk!, but Chance couldn't run out and grab him yet. Just in front of Tusk stood Hornet, her expression unreadable as she spoke to them, alone. He was not keen to have another run-in with her. She'd given him his phone back, but past that, he had no idea what she'd do at the sight of him. She at least wouldn't kill him. Probably.
"Listen," the voice whispered, and Chance did. Everything about this scene screamed Important! to him anyway.
"You've seen beyond this kingdom's bounds," Hornet continued. "Yours is resilience born of two voids." Chance pondered this; beyond the kingdom's bounds? That was… where he came from himself, wasn't it?
Hornet sighed before continuing, "It's no surprise then you've managed to reach the heart of this world. In so doing, you shall know the sacrifice that keeps it standing." She glanced over at the statue, eyeing it up and down. Maybe Chance was just projecting, but something in her gaze almost seemed… longing.
"If," she spoke sharply, as though trying to snap back into focus. "If knowing that truth, you'd still attempt a role in Hallownest's perpetuation, seek the Grave in Ash and the mark it would grant to one like you."
"The Grave in Ash…" the voice on the other end of the phone mused. "Oh, she can't possibly mean that place…"
Chance perked up, trying to get more information to help alleviate his confusion. "What? Do you know what she's talking about? Where-"
"And one other thing."
Chance stopped mid-sentence, looking back into the city square from his hiding place. Hornet had turned to leave, but glanced over her shoulder to say one last thing to Tusk.
"The human that you've allowed to follow you thus far. If you approach the Grave, do not bring him with you. He has no place in this dying kingdom."
And with that, she threw her needle into the air, and vanished into the wind.
"Tusk!" Chance called out, running into the city square now that Hornet had left. Tusk spun around, spotting Chance and waving to him as he came closer. He fell to his knees when he reached the statue, feeling some sense of relief wash over him, knowing that Tusk was safe and well.
He considered embracing Tusk, but decided against it with how soaked he was. Trying to catch his breath, he looked up at the statue before him. Its towering figure was even more imposing up close, even elevated above the ground on a pedestal that resembled a blooming flower.
A small plaque rested at the foot of the ominous statue. It was written in Hallownestian, making Chance furrow his brow. He was getting sick of being illiterate. But…
"Memorial to the Hollow Knight,"the voice on the phone spoke, slow and calculating. Chance almost forgot there was anyone still on the line. "In the Black Vault far above. Through its sacrifice… Hallownest lasts... eternal."
Chance stared at the plaque for a long moment, before he blinked. "What?", he asked, feeling dumb for having all of this important shit fly right over his head. "What does any of that mean? What's-"
A low chuckle came through from the speaker.
Then a laugh, then a howl, and then it grew into a cacophony of laughter so immense it made Chance drop his phone to the wet pavement with a clatter.
Even in his head, he heard it, unable to cover his ears, unable to escape.
Laughter about irony. Laughter about tragedy. Laughter about lies.
Somewhere, a tumor throbbed with revulsion. Somewhere, a cancer spread. Somewhere, tears fell to the ground, and echoed across an endless darkness for none to hear.
Chance reared over and smacked at the ground blindly, his hands landing on his phone, his thumb pressing at the slick surface of the phone in a desperate attempt to hang up.
With a beep!, the call ended, and Chance would've thrown up if he had any food in his stomach.
He sat there for a long moment, taking deep, guttural breaths, before he let his arm give, and he fell over on his side, laying against the statue base. Rain poured over him, his hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck, and his shirt sticking to his chest. He didn't know what to do with his arms, so he just wrapped them across his chest, hugging himself in an effort to calm down.
Tusk walked up and wrapped their small arms around his shoulder to comfort him.
"...Thanks…"
They stayed there, in the shadow of the mysterious Hollow Knight memorial, letting themselves weather away in the endless rain, too far gone from anywhere they could call home.
A gruff voice cleared his throat behind them. Chance, too tired to feel startled, looked up through his soaking wet hair to see a new figure. Just slightly shorter than himself, with a hunched back, a thick cowlick on their head and a beard that reached the floor. They held a fist up to their mouth and coughed into it again to get their attention.
"I imagine a pitiful sight such as yourselves would appreciate a break from this blasted rainfall, eh?"
"Thank you again, for letting us... dry off a bit here," Chance said, his mind absent. Sitting in a small chair by the window, he was too busy looking around the room that this stranger, Lemm, had declared his home; alien antiques crowded every shelf, from the rusted to the shiny to the eroded to the wrinkled, everything gave off that same musty smell of history.
"Bah, I don't plan on letting you stay long," Lemm stated bluntly. "But travelers are few and far between in this damned City anyway. You're more customers than guests to me, if you want to hear it honestly."
Chance blinked, letting his gaze drift away from Tusk, who Lemm had needed to shout "Hands off!" at earlier for getting touchy with his collection. He'd kind of already pegged Lemm as the 'reluctantly kind' type, who'd be willing to help but would be grumpy about it the whole time. Slipping his phone in his messenger bag for later, Chance set it aside to keep talking.
"Customers?"
"Well, for a wanderer, I imagine you come across many interesting items in your travels. Maybe you'd care to part with some? I'll offer a fair trade for each."
Chance had nothing to say to this, but Tusk perked up at the proposal. They strolled over to Lemm and reached within… themselves… to pull out a large slab of stone from seemingly nowhere.
"A Wanderer's Journal, eh?" Lemm actually sounded somewhat impressed. He took the so-called journal and laid it on his counter, examining it closely. "Though they're common finds about the kingdom, I much enjoy the deciphering of their text. Read together, they paint a morbid tale. It seems fate was unkind to most who travel within Hallownest's ruin."
Chance furrowed his brow, pondering Lemm's words. "So… you're a historian, of sorts?"
"I am a relic seeker," Lemm asserted with exasperation. "...But yes, I suppose the study of history is inherent to my line of work." He pulled out a magnifying glass to study the journal in detail before continuing, "There's a forgotten history hidden in this kingdom's antiques, though few seem willing to look. Others come just to claw away at the cracks and ruins."
"Well…" This seemed kind of rude now that he was thinking about it, but he still felt like it was necessary to ask for his own sake. "I'm… not from around here. N-Not from Hallownest, I mean."
Lemm looked up from the work he was so absorbed in to stare at Chance. "Oh?"
"I was wondering if you could… teach me? About Hallownest's history?"
Lemm stared for a moment, before he shook his head with a bark of ingenuous laughter. "Why would I do that? I've got my own business to attend to here, I'm not interested in becoming a teacher for some uneducated human who can barely tell up from down."
…
…
…
...Lemm gave him a look. "...What? I know what you are. Of course I know."
Chance startled at Lemm's confident words. "W-What?"
"What, what? Did you expect me to act like I made a slip of the tongue, that I knew something I oughtn't? I know what a human is, people like you are all over Hallownest's history from before the Infection."
Chance stared with wide eyes at Lemm for a good moment, a heavy silence lulling in the small antique store, before rubbing his still-wet face with his hands to try and wake himself up and process what Lemm said.
"...So it's true, then," Chance mumbled, more to himself than anything. "There's been other humans in Hallownest."
"Of course there have been," Lemm said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "At the very least, one other human. Every account of their activities is vague and, quite frankly, unbelievable, but it cannot be denied. Don't tell me you thought you were the first?"
"I… kinda did. Everyone else I've met thought so, too."
Lemm snorted. "It seems history is even more unpopular outside this room than I thought. A shame, really. Human artifacts are among the rarest there are in this kingdom."
Chance sighed. So Hallownest's shrouded history wasn't just some isolated mystery anymore, if it tied into his own world. There was no way to tell how many humans had been to Hallownest before him, other than there being at least one, but-
"Wait. You have human artifacts?"
Lemm nodded. "Aside from mere documents, I have a human artifact," he corrected. "Precisely one."
Chance opened his mouth to ask about it, when something moved out of the corner of his vision. Glancing sideways out of the window, past the blur of raindrops racing down the glass, he could see a lone figure in an oak-green cloak standing out on a bridge in the streets below, just above a rushing river.
"...Jeremy…?"
The figure got just a bit too close to the ledge, before they slipped on the wet pavement and fell over the too-short barrier and straight into the water with a muffled splash.
"JAY!", Chance shouted, startling both Lemm and Tusk as he flew from his chair and out the door in a mad sprint, his bag falling over and onto the ground in a mess as he ran. Tusk, unsure of what was happening but not wanting to leave Chance alone, ran out as well to follow him.
"W-Wait just one moment, you forgot your-!" Lemm started, holding up Chance's bag, before he sighed and lowered his arm. Why even try? He'd be back for the thing later, surely.
Casting a glance at the thing, his eyes caught onto a familiar shape; pinned to the strap of the bag was a grey-and-red Hallownest Seal. Why would a clueless outsider have one of these things around?
Curiosity piqued, Lemm opened the bag to peek inside.
"Oh my. This is… quite the find."
Chance stumbled outside, nearly blown away by the rain washing over him, having only just started to dry off. He sprinted out alongside the river, his feet threatening to slip on the wet roads as well.
Was Tusk behind him? He couldn't see, the rain was too heavy.
He grabbed onto one of the railings and called down below, hearing no response and seeing no bodies in the water. Without skipping a beat, he ran over to another railing on the other side of the bridge, his heart pounding with panic.
He'd abandoned Jeremy once now. He couldn't do it again.
Just as he was running down the street, something in the ground shifted, sending Chance to the ground with an unsteady thud. He needed to be more careful; he thought he'd be used to this after all these months, it was a miracle he didn't have a splinter yet!
Staggering to his feet, he raised an arm to cover his face from the torrential downpour. When did the rain get so much worse?
"And we'll rooooll the oooool' chariot along-!
We'll rooooll the oooool' chariot along-!"
Chance ducked under some sailors who were tossing barrels to one another into storage, singing sea shanties over the thunderous noise of rain to keep their rhythm, water running down their chitinous shells and off of them like nothing. He stumbled up the deck, grabbing at the handrail as the great ship rocked from the waves crashing into it.
"We'll rooooll the oooool' chariot along-!
And we'll aaaaall haaaang oooon beeee-hiiiiiind~!"
Members of the crew ran left and right, frantically tying down the ship and everything on it for the worst of the storm. It hit them so suddenly, they'd hardly gotten the time to do it beforehand, and had to rush in the horrible weather to keep everything afloat. Nobody screamed, nobody panicked, as long as they all kept singing along.
A flash of light appeared in the corner of his eye, and the roll of thunder nearly brought Chance to his knees. (Weren't they just underground a second ago-) Finally, he reached the steps leading up to the bridge, where their captain awaited.
The one who would steer them. The one who would guide them. The one who would light their way.
"Get up here!" she called as she gripped the helm, her voice sharp but something looking more concerned in her expression. Only concerned for him, he was sure; she wouldn't be worried by something as measly as a hurricane. "I thought I called you earlier?"
"G-Got caught up in the storm!" Chance had to shout for her to hear him over the deafening storm and the cacophony of singing voices on the deck below them. He'd never raise his voice at Captain L████ otherwise, and she knew it.
She scoffed, her eyes hidden in the shadow of her large feathered hat, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Don't worry about any of it," she said, "No matter what happens, we'll reach our grand goal, together."
Just as she said it, a bolt of lightning struck the top of one of the massive masts, the shockwave sending Chance to the floor from the explosion of wood, fire and plasma far above them. A poor sailor was flung from the crow's nest screaming into the water, some of the crew immediately rushing to pull him from the water, and others working to put out the fire that raged above them, despite the endless rainfall.
Captain L████ shouted some command to the sailors below her, who all obeyed without question. Nobody would question the Captain.
Her snow-white captain's outfit, adorned in gold treasures and buttons that gleamed even in the dark of the storm, with two large flintlocks strapped around her waist by two belts, a large overcoat of some strange material as confident as leather and pure as silk, and large cap with a single grand feather sticking out the side, seemed to be unaffected by the rainfall around her.
"Don't worry," she repeated. Her voice was barely a whisper, but clear as day despite the torrential storm. "Our ship will lead us to greatness, together."
Chance, his white stringed-up poet's shirt, dark black buttoned pants, and well-worn black leather shoes, were all soaked down to the bone, sticking to his bare skin. (What happened to his jacket, what the fuck was a poet's shirt-) Still on the ground, he took a shaky breath before saying,
"Is it… really our ship, though?"
Captain L████ stopped, turning to look at him, her golden eyes piercing through the darkness that obscured her face like a mask. "What?"
He staggered to his feet, looking up at his beloved Captain. "Is it our greatness if it is not our ship?" With great effort, he pulled himself to his feet, throwing his arms around haphazardly to keep his balance, before he looked L████ right in the eyes.
"If I'm going to find greatness, I want to find it myself, on my own terms."
Nearly slipping on the wet boards, he turned on his heel and sprinted away. L████ called out something to him with an outstretched arm, but he'd already made up his mind.
He raised a leg to jump onto the railing of the ship, before leaping off the deck. For a terrifying few seconds, he was in free fall, just another raindrop falling into a great ocean, until he hit the water with a great splash.
...
"...why…?"
...
Chance opened his eyes in the water. Looking left and right, he didn't see anything in the water but drops of rain hitting the surface before being absorbed into the greater body of water. Then, his eyes landed on a dark form at the bottom of the river.
...
"...wouldn't things be… so much better that way…?"
...
Swimming down, he reached out and grabbed ahold of Jeremy's arm. His fluffy, soft, soaked, inhuman arm. It was terrifyingly limp, and for a moment Chance's heart stopped before he steeled himself, wrapping another arm around Jeremy's torso. Despite the freezing water, he was still warm, thank God. He couldn't leave Jeremy alone again.
...
"...just want… to be… happy…"
…
Kicking his feet, he held Jeremy close as he pulled them up to the surface. It was indefinite, the raindrops constantly warring against the border between air and water, like an endless volley of bullets from army with muskets. Squeezing his eyes shut, he embraced the darkness for just a slight moment before they breached the surface.
The muted drone of raindrops from under the water turned into a clear static, and Chance gulped in air, blinking lights out of his eyes. One arm wrapped around Jeremy's waist and another helping keep him afloat, he swam over to the nearest ledge, and with a great effort, heaved Jeremy out of the water and rolled his body over onto the ledge, limp and soaked and cold like a wet rag.
Chance pulled himself up onto the ledge as well, letting himself lay on his back as he took deep breaths, trying to steady his heart. Rain smacked into his face as his chest rose and fell, his feet dangling down just barely above the water.
Coming back to his senses, he pulled himself fully onto the land, and reached over to shake Jeremy. No response, but at the very least he was breathing. Chance picked him up again and carried him under an awning, a small dark corner where they could shelter from the rain.
"J-Jeremy? Are you…" he took another breath, "Are you okay? H-Here, we need to get that cloak off, or you'll get hypothermia, o-or-"
Not thinking about anything other than Jeremy's well-being, he reached for the clasp around his oak-green cloak and pulled it open with a soft click, and Jeremy's cloak fell from his face and around his shoulders.
Chance froze. This… couldn't be real.
Under the hood was a head of dirty blond hair, soaked and stuck to Jeremy's features much like Chance's own dark brown hair. Two long feathery antennae sprung out the top of his head. His half-lidded eyes, slowly coming back into consciousness, were not orange but a vibrant yellow, with an inky black sclera. His hands (paws?) and lower arms were covered in a thick cream-white fur, with thin chitinous fingers extending from it, and a thick mane of the same fur sat cozily around his neck.
From behind his back, a pair of fuzzy, colorful wings extended slightly. Jeremy was just like a… moth. But…
There was no mistaking it. The smooth pale skin, the shape of his face; soft lips instead of mandibles, a full nose instead of holes, his ears and his cheeks and himself; in a world of bugs, Chance looked at Jeremy's face and saw a reflection of himself.
Jeremy was neither bug nor human, but somewhere impossibly in-between; a hybrid between two different worlds, like a coin flipped on neither two sides but balanced perfectly on its edge.
Fully awake now, Jeremy's lemon-yellow eyes stared up into Chance's orange ones, watching as tangerine tears streamed down Chance's face and dropped onto his cloak below.
"I'm sorry," Chance said, barely comprehending. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you behind, I'm sorry I… I didn't know, I-"
Jeremy's dripping wet fluff-covered arms wrapped around Chance's torso, and the hybrid pulled the human into an embrace. Tangerine tears fell onto Jeremy's back while crystal-clear ones fell onto Chance's.
"I…" something resembling a sad laugh came from Jeremy. "I thought I already told you… You apologize too much, y'know that?"
Chance froze, unable to think, before he collapsed into tears.
Chapter name and summary are a reference to A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall by Bob Dylan.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Roll the Old Chariot Along (Old folk song with vague history, but I'll use David Coffin's version for this)
12am writing brain be like: seafaring radiance
Finally revealed Jeremy's identity. Was fun watching people go from "he's a human!" to "he's a moth!", but it turns our you're both right. technically. answering this question only leads to like a billion others popping up but all shall be answered in due time, i promise :)
yes, Chance can now Focus into his phone to charge it. It Just Works. don't think too hard about it. also getting a Mysterious Phone Call from a Mysterious Stranger because y'know, "infection in the phone" fuckery is fun.
and i wonder who this "other human(s)" Lemm mentioned is...?
of this 7.5k word chapter, i somehow wrote like 3k of it in a single night. i don't know why or how. i fear my own strength
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