My root… left me. My daughter… left me. My five knights… left me. My child… I left it. My name is the Pale King. I exiled myself and my palace to the dream world. I hurt Hallownest more than I could ever heal it. What remained of my actions were failed attempts to save the kingdom from the raging infection. I rely on my soul reserve to remain alive. But why do I even bother anymore? I was the king. The monarch. And I let the kingdom down. I let anyone I ever loved down. I parted with the king's brand before I exiled, now unworthy of possessing it. May whoever finds it be a better ruler than me. I built the gauntlets of the white palace, simply to keep my mind busy from the things I failed to complete and betrayed. Now I sit here, overlooking the dream realm. I could do anything I wanted. Yet I did not allow myself that freedom. I did not deserve it. I look back. My old throne. My head swirls with memories of when it was used properly. When i had a connection with my root. When I trained the hollow knight daily. Despite the infection that was ongoing, life felt… rather peaceful. I can't bear it any longer. I feel my soul reserves dangerously low. It would be the perfect time to act. I walk over to my throne. It would be the perfect place. I sit. I then let go of the aura of light that provided protection from the darkness all my life. A sigh escapes me. I knew it was here. Waiting for the opportunity to strike. I had shown it my vulnerability. I could hear it, fast approaching my withering body. It filled the room in a moment's notice. I felt unfazed by such a sight. It showed such hatred. I could make out all of the discarded vessels, now shades, blankly staring at me. Whatever happened next, I deserved it. I relax my body. My mind is completely empty. I wanted this. It had to happen. The void encloses me even further. I scan the substance, and within it, it reflects the memories of my life. I feel the void overtake my body. It engulfs me. Within my mere last breath, everything all at once, made sense. The seconds of my remaining moments were spent of pure understanding. Throughout my time of attempting to save Hallownest, I made grave sacrifices. They all hurt me in some way. Made my chest ache. I always thought that those were the cost. But it now made sense. I was the infection spreading throughout Hallownest, hurting the kingdom. My death would be the final sacrifice to save it. I only hurt everyone, but it would finally cease. And through this sacrifice, Hallownest would be saved by another. A seceding monarch would lead the kingdom to greatness. My last moment of life. It all flashed before me, seeming to prolong the inevitable death by several years. Hallownest was the only thing that mattered. The only cause. To save it was the only thing I was meant to fulfill. It was finally about to happen. I utter the words of my life goal one last time before my world goes black and my consciousness permanently fades. The white lady could feel the final spoken words in her roots. Hornet felt the vibration of the final spoken words bounce through the room of her mothers shrine. The Hollow Knight felt the final spoken words in its corrupted mind. They could all tell what it meant. The king had died. The final spoken words echoed through the kingdom of Hallownest as the final remnant of the dead Pale King.
No cost too great.