A/N: As always, reviews are appreciated and are replied to. Or, if you'd prefer to comment more privately, feel free to shoot me a PM. Cheers, + KVP


.:: Infracta Inuria ::.

"The shape of this creature… I have seen something like it before. More than once, perhaps. It looks a little like the bugs of Hallownest, but not quite the same. Where did these empty little wanderers come from?"

He was merely one of many—virtually no different from his own kind, if only in growth, which was higher than most other vessels. Through empty eye sockets carved into his mask, he gazed at his reflection in the waters of the hot spring. Then a loud voice—he did not know whose—ordered all the others to assemble in the courtyard of the palace.

He shuddered, turned around. The "others"—the same shells with the same emptiness inside, like himself—were already marching towards the courtyard as if spellbound. But why did they go there, mindlessly obeying orders? As soon as the question passed the vessel's consciousness, it slipped away into void. At once, he darted forward to catch up with his fellow vessels.

No one turned to look at him, no one asked why he was slightly behind them or why he joined with a slight delay. Each vessel walked blindly into the courtyard, even step after even step. In the courtyard, a series of white totems rested on a raised platform, on which the vessels were ordered to stand by a beetle with bulky dimensions. Though, perhaps he merely appeared so because of the great layers of white armor encasing his body. And his mace, which he deftly raised with one paw... He seemed to be one of the five Great Knights, didn't he?

The tall vessel thought about this, peering directly at the Knight, until the hulking beetle brought his mace down to point directly at him. The Knight's voice roughly echoed off the palace fenestration.

"You. Go with the others. Fast."

The vessel came to his senses and hastened to take the place allotted to him on the platform. The Knight's thunderous footfalls paused at the center of the courtyard and, choosing two random vessels, he ordered them to start battling.

"Of course," thought the tall vessel vaguely. "To seal the plague, one must not only be hollow, but at the same time strong. Indeed, in the vessel of a weakling, the disease will be able to break free, and Hallownest will fall..."

Then a less fleeting thought suddenly crept into his head: that he did not want to fight at all. How can one lift a nail against one's siblings? Whom to attack, whom to defend? Yet his brethren, husk creatures of emptiness, rushed two-by-two into battle with little hesitation. Very few were waking up; those who did were either shoved forward by ready participants or thrust toward the palace main hall by the shaft of the Knight's mace.

Spaces opened up on the platform left and right as more vessels jumped down to pair with each other. The tall vessel faced his own opponent, a rather low vessel with two jagged horns on its mask, bending symmetrically upward. There was a certain air to the smaller creature—or rather, lack thereof; he stood perfectly still until the white Knight raised his plated arm. Then, as if built like a perfect automaton, the small vessel took a nail in his hands and leaned into a fighting stance.

"Why should we fight? I certainly do not want it."

But an order is an order, and thoughts pass easily into void.

The tall vessel took up his own defensive position, gripping his nail in front of himself with both paws. He could not afford hesitations. But what was it that was weighing down his head? Or was it merely the twin horns growing on one side of his skull?

His opponent dashed forward as soon as the Knight sliced the air with his massive arm, allowing the fights to begin. Although the tall vessel was able to place a block with his nail, the lower one did not retreat. Instead, he pressed on the nail with all his strength, trying to force his taller counterpart to remove the block and counterattack. The tall vessel let his opponent's nail slide down before leaping back.

No, if he didn't attack, he would lose. And if he lost, only the Pale King knew what would happen to him... The tall vessel rushed to the attack. The vicious striking of nail on nail rang throughout the courtyard walls.

"I have reached no perfection; I know that already. For what am I fighting then? Hallownest must not fall."

The smaller vessel allowed its opponent to get close, and then jumped behind its back, simple. A burst of white light flashed from behind the taller vessel. Cries and gasps of "Soul!" bounced between spectators when pillars of pure white light erupted from the ground, throwing the tall vessel to his side.

The winner was clear.

"It will definitely fit," thought the tall vessel, staggering into the main hall of the palace, where the rejects were all gathered. "Why are we here then?"

To one degree or another, the brothers around him were not completely hollow, the tall vessel suspected. After the display of soul, several dared to speak, whispering quietly among themselves. Most had formed their own wills and, knowing that they were unsuitable for the role of the container for the plague, they vied to be free, milling about themselves in confusion.

Only one of all those present was perfect as a vessel—that very low one with two jagged horns, the soul-carrier. Always aloof, he stared ahead and blindly obeyed the white Knight's locational commands.

The tall vessel himself had no voice, though he thought and, with his thoughts, wanted only to be free of the dream-state turned nightmare.

"What will happen to me...?" He heard a quiet whisper next to him.

It belonged to another of his rejected brothers, very tiny, like a child. The smaller trembled, most definitely out of fear, because no one knew what was happening in the minds of defective vessels, except for themselves. The tiny vessel nervously trampled on the spot, turned its head back and forth and repeated tirelessly, "I'm scared, I'm scared."

The tall vessel thought that he even felt sorry for this crumb. The thing was absolutely unsuitable as a repository for infection. And yet here they both were. For now. The tall one, against all instinct, extended his hollow paw to the other's mask and stroked it gently. The kid shuddered, then stopped trembling and raised his head, looking up at his brother.

"Do you know what will happen to me?" he asked quietly. "What will happen to all of us?"

The tall vessel merely shook his head. He lowered his paw from the mask of the small vessel and held it out to him. He, a little hesitantly, took it in response.

"Now… I'm not so scared. Thank you."

Then the white Knight paced toward their group, tossing his mace from hand to hand. The tall vessel thought he heard buzz saws in the distance. And then...

...What happened then? He couldn't remember. Only now he realized that he was lying in darkness. Heaps of scattered masks of different sizes and different horns crowded his sight. Too many were cracked. Even more completely split open.

"So this is what happens to the defective. We are simply... thrown away."

A brief sense of injustice flitted across his consciousness. Moments before that thought, too, passed into void, he grabbed hold of it, gripped it tightly, let it hoist him to his feet. All at once, a faint crack sounded in the air. The vessel placed a paw between his eyes and felt a fissure growing between the eye sockets of his mask.

He would not allow this.

A faint light from above shone down on miles of cistern rock. The vessel scrambled among his unmoving brethren until he found a nail among the rubble and began to climb the rocks upward. The crack in his mask deepened. His third horn threatened to break off completely. As soon as the idea crossed his consciousness, his grip nearly slipped, and he heard a sickening crunch. The smallest horn on one side of his mask fell away below, leaving a gaping hole in its place. Tendrils of his shade began snaking and spilling out.

"I just want to live. Please, no one will know about me or anyone here. Just let me live and be free of the King's nightmare..."

With each trembling step higher, the diffuse glow brightened until it took the shape of an open archway. His efforts redoubled.

"My King, please... give me a chance..."

When the threshold was nearly within reach, a seven-pointed crown came into the vessel's view—a crown such as only the Pale King wore. Unless the vessel was seeing a cruel vision, the monarch himself looked down at the unusable vessel. Frozen in place, he stared up into the unreadable eyes of his father.

Next to the King stood that very suitable vessel that would soon, for sure, become the Hollow Knight. Without another word, the Pale King turned his back on the tall vessel, and with a wave of his paw, ordered his companion to follow him. At once, the future Hollow Knight paced mechanically after his monarch. Before he passed through the archway, however, he paused and looked back at his imperfect brother, who felt his grip weaken more and more.

Then the tall vessel suddenly realized: Hallownest was doomed to fall.