Chapter Text
The throne room was dark. Silent. Even among the glowing roots, the lanterns and the magnificent light of its King and Queen, darkness still crept along the corners. However, the King's eyes did not waver from his audience of one, scrutinizing his subject under his pale gaze. Until, finally, he spoke, his voice no louder than a sigh.
"My Kingdom is dying," he intoned. "When this sacred land first came to be, your kin were the first to be drawn to my light. When bug and beast once wandered from this haven, this realm of light, your kin were the ones who kept their faith. Even now, while the Great Walls are crumbling before us and death lays beyond its wake, your kin shall serve under my watch and will answer to my call."
The elderly moth said nothing as she bowed at the figures before her. Their presence was incredible, true, she begun to understand why her fickle ancestors had decided on this path. The King rose slowly from his throne.
"Yet, despite your diligence, your allegiance was born from treachery."
He stepped forward, closer, the moth struggling to match her gaze against his. Silence lingered heavily in the air.
"Traitorous kin, do you swear on King and Kingdom to atone for the sins of the past? To serve, teach and protect the one who will banish the light that plagues their dreams?"
The King stood tall above his subject, who remained unshaken under his immense presence.
"Will you give your all and more to save Hallownest?"
The moth did not hesitate to nod.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Seemingly satisfied, the Pale King gestured to the Queen to come forward, where she then strode elegantly onwards, carrying a bundle in her arms.
"Behold, one of impenetrable mind, an unbreakable will and unfathomable resolve. Behold, your Wielder, the last Knight."
The Queen handed the small bundle to the moth, who was greeted to a child, a hatchling no less, utterly still and staring blankly up at her. The Queen cleared her throat.
"You know what must be done, Seer?"
The Seer felt herself go numb. How she wished those words would never be said to this child. This poor, poor child.
"I do."
With there little more to discuss, she was dismissed, leaving the darkened palace with child in hand. The King and Queen returned to their thrones, figures slumping under weight and worry.
"Dear Wyrm, pray this is the last we must suffer this ill-gotten fate. The regrets of our actions are becoming too much to bear."
The King remained silent for the longest time before he uttered his tired words.
"No cost too great."
Tired legs and tired arms moved stiffly as the Seer travelled homeward. What a burden it is to be old, thought the Seer. But also a blessing, many have not been so lucky. I must remember that.
Soon, the caverns around stilled as rows of royal graves, memorials of great knights, bugs of servitude and the woefully unfortunate approached. Her antennae twitched as the spirits watched from afar. The air grew thick with remnants of memories, clinging to the walls like dust. The soothing sounds of water and the cheerful chatter of her kin grew louder. She was home.
The other moths peered out of their tents from high and low throughout the cavern. Solemn workers that emerged from the stag station, grim coffins and cargo in tow, gave curious glances towards the growing commotion. Seer ignored everyone as best as she could. She had one focus at the moment and would not let anyone near until it was time.
The moth allowed herself to relax as she entered her tent. Plush purple pillows and velvet rugs and curtains were draped all around the room, accompanied by an abundance of dreamcatchers that hung above. Littered across the cobblestone ground were numerous candles and incense sticks, all perfectly placed and designed to put any inhabitants at ease. I hope this will do, good rest seems to elude us lately, the Seer thought.
Carefully, the Seer unravelled the bundle and lowered the hatchling until their feet touched the soft floor. The child took in their surroundings, hollow eyes gazing from one thing to the next. They then stared up at the Seer with a tilt of their head and a curious look before toddling along to their next interests. The Seer chuckled. No matter how many hatchlings she cared for, she was always so endeared by their innocence.
She shuffled towards a shelf, gingerly dusted off the box upon it and opened it. She sighed. Why must something so sacred and good be used in such a terrible way? A miserable burden, but one that must be held. With a shake of her head, she turned around, only to see the edge of a blue cloak leave the tent. She hurried outside. The child walked around outside on uncertain legs, being uncomfortably close to the path's edge and a very, very long drop. The elderly moth yelped and scooped the child into her arms. She then quickly carried them back inside and plopped them onto the floor. They merely stared up at the Seer in response. They didn't seem too bothered that this strange lady interrupted their adventure.
"How in Hallownest did you sneak out? Why, I'd say you're as quiet as the ghosts out there. Such frights aren't good for an old soul like me. Please do not wander off, little one." The child stared back in reply.
The Seer then knelt down and held the item out to them: A hilt made of silver, with the emblem of a dreamcatcher, the very image of Essence adorned on top.
"This, child, is a blade held most sacred by our tribe. The Dream Nail. Few were honoured to be granted use of such a thing, none have had the chance to tap into its true potential. To hone its brilliance and one's own mind and powers with it, to walk between the realms of dreams and waking. None have been bestowed with such a gift... until you, that is. Take it, Wielder. Take it and you will achieve wonderful things."
The child, silent as ever, took the Seer's gift and examined the hilt closely in their hand. The nail glimmered in the candlelight, the emblem spinning slowly as it reacted to its wielder. They then gave the blade a cursory shake... before they dropped it on the ground and headed toward their mission of exploring the pile of pillows behind them. The Seer sat there, dumbfounded, but far from surprised.
After an hour of the "little ghost" running around, exploring their strange new home of theirs, they eventually grew tired and soon fell asleep. The Seer watched over the tiny figure, their body curled up snugly on one of the many pillows surrounding them. She placed a hand on their head. Nothing. She found no thoughts or feelings within their mind. If they did, she could not sense it. A remarkable bug, of which its dreams lie hidden deep in a impenetrable shell... or did not possess. She shivered at the thought.
She stepped outside to the cool cavern air, rubbing her claws together nervously. High and below, her tribe carried on, dutifully tending to the holy resting grounds. Honoured yet ashamed, endlessly atoning for their sins. Waiting for the day when the war will end and this kingdom finds peace. She feared this day would come too soon.
Her antennae perked up as she heard something stir inside her tent. The infant silently twitched and snuffled in their sleep, as would many hatchlings did when they had nightmares. With practised arms, the Seer picked up her child and held them close, humming a song made by her, just for them. Their stirring calmed. They grabbed her fluff with tiny hands. They returned to their slumber. Soon, the Seer sat down, holding her child close, and as she did, she ached. But she embraced the feeling. She knew she would miss it.