Chapter Text
The blinding light was quickly fading, as void settled within the golden dream. The dying screams of the moth goddess still echoed through the realm. Black liquid void, darker than a moonless night, broke through the graying clouds. Streams of the midnight substance dousing any remaining colour or light.
Ghost stared with eight new eyes as the Radiance’s form completely disappeared, returning to the bare essence it was constructed of, and fading into the surrounding dream. The thousands of angry voices that had crowded the newly ascended vessel died down into whispers, and then nothing. The shades found rest as the source of the infection, was finally, finally, vanquished. Ghost, tired as the anger faded didn’t get to rest with their siblings. There was no pull to join them, the void was quiet for the first, in a very long time.
Unsure of what else to do Ghost made for the exit, focusing on waking up. The infection was gone, they didn’t need to kill the dreamers, to kill their sibling. They had fixed it; they could go home. They would work out what to do about this new body in the safety of Dirtmouth, with Hornet.
In the absence of the all-consuming anger, relief bubbled up in the giant’s chest, or well, their void equivalent.
However, the relief was short lived as a flash of silver illuminated the realm. A circle of complex patterns spun itself around the Lord of Shades. Lighting up brilliantly against the now black featureless dream.
Ghost couldn’t wake up.
Panic slammed its huge great nail down on the vessel, were they even a vessel anymore?
Their Voidheart started to beat faster as they tried again, and again, and again, to get out of the dream.
Nothing worked, the silver seal cut off all attempts to reach the outside world.
Ghost slammed into the wall of white intricate patterns, recoiling as the light stung their form. Why? Why was this happening? They had beaten the Radiance; they had fixed everything. Why couldn’t they leave?
A soft rustle whispered through the space. It would have been impossible to hear had the dream not been so unnaturally silent. Whirling around they saw at the center of the seal, a small delicate flower bloom.
Ghost sank to the floor, huge body going limp as they curled around the flower. Their new body was unfamiliar and wrong, too big, too long. Instead of legs their serpentine form tapered off into huge void tendrils, big enough to reach across the Blue Lake. Their hands had twisted and stretched into talons, still sticky with the sweet-smelling blood of the Radiance.
The flower was unbelievably tiny against their massive form. It was only a few days ago when the delicate flower had barely fit under their cloak. They had carried it carefully to the grave in the gardens, and then they had taken the remainder that sprouted and given it to whoever they thought could use it.
Elder bug, who needed a little hope.
Oro, who said he wouldn’t keep it but did anyway.
And the Godseeker, Ghost had felt sorry for them, a lot of good that did.
Anger bubbled up again, their vision blurred. Could they even cry? The answer was apparently no, but they shook with the emotion anyway. Even in this new powerful body, even as the Shade Lord. A name whispered by the thousands of voices now staying stubbornly silent, they couldn’t do anything. They were still that stupid, naive vessel that thought their sibling would reach out to save them. Why would it ever be, okay? Nothing good ever happened in this accursed kingdom, not since that sorry excuse for a King, had condemned everyone to suffer for his sins.
Something whispered at the edges of Ghost’s mind. They, even from within the dream could feel the void sea churning. The abyss was quaking with the anger of its god.
The Pale King had thought the Void empty. He thought that it would solve all his problems. The ever-brilliant divine King, who knew everything, had found the solution. Like everyone knew he would.
Of course this would come at a price, and of course he couldn’t pay it himself. No, why not throw a bunch of his own eggs in the Void, They could deal with the consequences. They could save everyone. Lead a voiceless, emotionless, empty existence in service of a kingdom that probably saw them as less than the dirt they walked on.
The King was never wrong after all, and if the king said that this was the right thing to do. That there was ‘no cost too great’, then everyone would blindly follow him.
When the plan failed, when everything went to dung. Did the king admit he was wrong? Did he try to fix his mistakes? of course not! That was everybody else’s job, he could just let those, now useless, purposeless vessels, who couldn’t get anything right to clean up his mess while he holed himself up in the dream realm.
Ghost growled, this form allowed them a voice, and by the higher beings they were going to use it. So the God of gods, trapped within the delicate flower’s seal, screamed. The sound seemed to rip itself out of them. Years of silence, culminating into an awful primal wail, the realm shook, as the sound shot through it.
Outside in the real world, an earthquake rumbled through the dead kingdom.
A petal fell off the flower within the Higher being’s prison.
Ghost screamed again. the black sea under Hallownest thrashed. The mass of void, given focus and form, writhed. Tendrils struck out blindly with an uncontrolled fury that ran through the void like freezing cold flames.
The primal scream carried that cold fire with it, burning inside Ghost, a deafening cacophony of voices returning, with new vigor. They were shouting, all at once, all different. Some cursed, some whimpered, some screamed along with them.
They were all saying the same thing, all born of a tragedy that had scarred the void permanently, twisted at the hands of an arrogant king.
It wasn’t fair.
One of Ghosts many eyes, tracked the moment one of the wild thrashing tendrils, caught and ripped through the delicate flower, before everything went white.