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For the record, the Ghost of Hallownest had a familiar hand with having to clean things up. Hallownest had been in absolute shambles thanks to the Infection that the Radiance had brought about. Yes, they’d solved it, yes, they were not a fan of being put into a leadership position and yes, they’d decided to throw all their duties to the side when Hornet went missing without a second thought.
Pure Nail in hand, their shell containing the Void Heart and all their other things, ready and prepared for another quest. Out into the wastes they’d went, following the thin trail that their sister ought to be proud of them for being able to track. See, they did pay attention in her tracking and hunting lessons! They paid attention and paid attention well, thank you very much!
… okay, so maybe they were cheating the slightest amount thanks to the connection that was present thanks to being siblings. And maybe they were cheating because of their whole deal with being the ruler of dreams and prodding through people’s sleep until they spotted dreams of a (badass) red cloak wearing, needle wielding princess. Direction found, they’d trekked across the wastes until they’d found far more sustainable lands.
Back to the cleanup thing. See, that’d been a few days ago, and Ghost had been making their way through mossy grottoes and grey moorlands and following whispers and stories and dreams as best a young godling could. Were they a godling? That was a discussion for a later time for the task at hand:
Silk was absolutely fucking everywhere when they finally clambered up the sandy wastes and arrived at what they’d learned to be ‘The Citadel’. Some of the silk had draped down into lands below, but it’d seemed harmless enough. They’d cut through it with their Pure Nail and freed a few people too scared to free themselves. Sacred silk was not meant to be wasted, or something along those lines.
Ghost wasn’t exactly the biggest follower of keeping ancient landmarks alive, but if that was the peoples’ prerogative in a land they didn’t rule over, they could care less.
Anyways, up into the Citadel they’d went. Chopping through silk and finding tons of husks. Nobody to fight. Unfortunate. The silk served well enough to keep their soul reserves filled decently, so they couldn’t complain on that front. Up and up and up they went. Their monarch wings help them ascend, the pale glow flickering on the strands of silk that keep them from finding their way easier.
The path was already unlocked other than the absurd amounts of silk. Was this the right direction? Mm. Ghost hadn’t been too sure, but they were going to go up high and have a better vantage point of the situation regardless. That sort of thinking was what propelled them to the highest point of the Citadel, which according to a map they’d sketched from a model in a glass dome, was called the Cradle.
So, for about six hours Ghost had spent their time cutting through the silk up there. It was diabolical, really. They might honestly need their Pure Nail sharpened again, come to think of it. Cut and cut and cut through things until they’d found a red cloak amidst the silk. That had been a horrifying moment, and they’d snatched up the cloak that was now filled with fluff and reinforced with spines and tucked it away for safekeeping.
At first, the Ghost of Hallownest had not recognized the form within the darkness. They’d prepared themself for a fight when they’d finally chopped that form free, readying their nail and flaring their wings to help compensate for their itty bitty short stature. Three sets of arms and a shell that was barely strung together by silk. The form had tumbled out of the silk, and when the shape of that shell finally clicked, they’d barely managed to catch the stumbling form before they hit the ground.
Which was also covered in silk so it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Still. Ghost operated on principle (sometimes).
Ghost had pumped soul through their little nubby fingers to spur some consciousness back into the darkened form. Also to mend her shell because it, initially, did not look that healthy. They’d sat down, waiting for the six legged figure to gather some composure. Patient as ever.
An equal amount of eyes eventually blinked open, a gasp breaking free as well. Eyeing all the silk, and the small form seated next to her, the princess of the old Hallownest slowly sunk her head into two of those now available hands.
“Are you going to tell me what happened here and why you look like your mom, or do you need a minute,” Ghost had questioned with their hands, head tilting ever so slightly to the side. Perhaps it was the absurd nonchalance, the indifference, or some secret third thing, but Hornet threw her head back and let out the weakest laugh they’d ever heard.
Because, yes, Hornet did look like the Dreamer that they’d only seen the deathbed of. And her floating form when they’d cut into her with the Dream Nail, but still! Hornet and yet not so. It’d been confusing, but thankfully for them, Hornet’s voice still worked fine.
She spun a tale, which honestly was time that’d probably be better devoted into spinning all this silk into something manageable. Actually, that might sound like a ‘go make me a moss sandwich’ that Ghost had heard Iselda smack Cornifer for saying, once. Regardless, they got their answer about the haunted kingdom’s usurper being slain by Hornet, and all that power being bound to her.
The first order of business had been fixing Hornet’s cloak to account for the brand new limbs. That, Hornet managed to do herself. Ghost had busied themself with fixing up Hornet’s shell. It wasn’t like her head had changed much, so that’d been an easy ordeal. The pure-silk extension of her cloak looked nice, in Ghost’s opinion. For the Void Given Focus could think, and it could have opinions, and its current one was realizing it was going to be roped into cleaning up a second kingdom.
Shit.
That leads Ghost to the present, because it was all good and fun up until the time to fix things came into play. So much silk. Generations of it, all unspun and freed from where it’d been pumping through living bodies that were nigh entirely composed of it. Stolen and reaped from so many weavers. Where was all of this stuff supposed to go? Ghost sure didn’t know! For now, they were spinning it and putting it into whatever storage units they could find.
Ghost had feared for the worst when they’d been up in the Cradle. Worried that they’d have to fight a third sibling to the near death. But, thankfully, things hadn’t been as bad as they could’ve been. Hornet was fine. Her form different, yes, but still of sound mind and body. Different, with new strengths and powers that needed to be honed.
Ghost could relate to such things. Maybe it would be their turn to teach her, for a change.