Chapter Text
Enormous scissor blades whistled through the cavernous chamber, their brass edges barely grazing the tip of Hornet’s cloak as she leapt forward, the airtime gained granting her but a single moment of respite against the ongoing onslaught of projectiles.
She reached for the thread within her, releasing a storm of silk that slashed against the body of the pale goddess. The attack shredded off entire spools’ worths of silken flesh from her body, though all were just as quickly replaced by means of her seemingly endless supply of power.
This was it. The final struggle at the Citadel’s summit. One final fight to determine the future of all the stagnant lands below. It was a struggle that she alone would have to take on the burden of.
She had previously sought alternatives among her many allies, announcing her intentions to the residents of the songclave— looking for any information she could use to gain an edge. Most were unhelpful at best, and yet some were downright suspicious at worst. But she had gleaned a few insights for her troubles.
In the end, the bugs had all sent their prayers in lieu of any material assistance, and for that at least, she was grateful.
At a glance, the battle appeared to be tending in Hornets' favor. For every hit that the monarch managed to land upon her shell, the red maiden’s needle would return to her threefold. The Grand mother’s attacks were sluggish, and highly telegraphed from her point of view.
She knew that her current state was not likely to be indicative of her true power. Ages spent under the Weaver’s spell had weakened the monarch greatly, and it seemed that the sheer number of bugs she had haunted was severely hampering the volume of silk she could bring to her disposal.
It also appeared that, having been newly awakened from her age-old slumber, the monarch would need some time to readjust to the waking world.
Not that this particularly concerned the red maiden. She would use every advantage she could get.
As their dance continued, Hornet had managed to strike the monarch down off the bridge, only for her to call down boulders from the ceiling- raising iron-tipped platforms from below to catch her off guard. Each of her attacks grew more ferocious than the last, with each blade flying out faster and faster with each passing moment.
Hornet could feel the tension building within her shell. Her advantage was growing ever more tenuous with time. Each lapse in her judgement had already come at a steep cost to her; at the current rate the duel was going, she would soon be overwhelmed in a battle of attrition.
She focused her mind, clearing out any doubt from within her.
Defeating the Monarch in combat was never her true goal. All she needed was an opening.
A storm of silk whirled across the chamber once more, each thread flying with an intensity that put her own comparatively pathetic silkstorm to shame. In an earlier encounter with the attack, her leg had been snagged for but a short moment, whereupon many more threads burst out from the point of contact- momentarily trapping her. The pale being was on her instantly, revealing all eight of her long, gilded appendages - each ending with a full set of razor-sharp claws. A flurry of slashes followed, which would have ultimately ended up killing her had they not been tearing apart her bindings as well.
Hornet theorized that the Grand Mother was blind— well, not in the way that most normal bugs would define blindness, but she was sure, at least in part, that the monarch could not see her as she truly was- unable to see the shape of her horns, nor the color of her bright red cloak. Whenever the maiden swung her blade, the monarch would make no attempt to dodge, lest she tried aiming for her head, which the goddess seemed highly adept at defending. Whenever she launched her clawline to make an escape- the scissors would hit where she previously stood, and not where she was heading. It appeared that she could certainly see the positions of living beings- as well as detect vibrations by means of her silk- though not much else. It was yet another weakness she could exploit.
So as Hornet weaved through the strands of silk once more, she grazed the threads with the tip of her needle, before flying upwards, feathered wings propelling her ito just the right position.
The monarch was upon her once more, silver blades rushing fast towards her, though her claws would find themselves cutting apart nothing but her own tangled strands.
This was exactly the opportunity she’d been waiting for.
Realizing the deception, the goddess turned to face her, but was only quick enough to raise her upper arms in futile defense.
In the blink of an eye, her needle pierced deep into the monarch’s forehead, causing her to let out a harrowing scream.
With a final check to make sure her position was secure, the red maiden tightened her grip on the Palesteel, and began to bind the Grand Mother's essence.
The monarch’s screams multiplied tenfold, though at that moment the sound had barely registered to Hornet’s ears.
Silk began to flow into her— at first a trickle, then in the next second a raging torrent that grew more and more powerful with each passing moment, surging through her veins and drowning out her senses— with every single sensation being violently subsumed by a potent mixture of agonizing pain, and glorious euphoria— elation—
TRANSCENDENCE
Bind. The monarch’s body burst open, her form unravelling like a woven doll.
Bind. Her arms collapsing— Her body melting down into a soft pile of thread.
Bind! Only to be strung up upon a brand new spool.
MORE. MORE. MORE. The voice screamed in her soul.
More silk. More strength. More power.
More more more more more more more more!
She could not think. Could not speak. Not when the never-ending tide of silk kept cascading down into her already overwhelmed soul. It would take and take and take. And when it could take no more, it would change. Shining brighter. Paler. And then it would take some more. On and on and on it went.
The smallest part of her, the part that was halfway through retaining even the barest hint of a rational thought, was screaming out. It screamed out in terror and fear, blissfulness and contentment, perhaps every feeling she had ever felt, right now and all at once.
And soon enough even that too was taken away by the silk.
Hornet opened her eyes. She had passed out, hadn’t she…
Her mind felt sluggish. So did her body. This sensation… it was as if she had awoken from a long dream… The details of which having long faded upon her awakening.
It was… dark. She couldn’t move her arms. Couldn't move her body. Or rather, she could, but was being restrained by something. Was this… silk? Hornet felt around her, tracing the outlines of the thread with her claws. She seemed to be bound in a cocoon. Likely one of her own making.
Gathering her strength, she burst out of the shell with a clean cut, looking around to gain a bearing on her surroundings.
Only to realize that she still couldn’t see.
Panic welled up from within her. There was nothing but darkness painting her surroundings. Every sense of hers felt heightened, and every movement was uncertain. She was completely, utterly blind. Just like Silk was…
Wait, Silk? Who was that supposed to be?
She shook her head. She needed to remain calm. This was likely but a mere side effect of her apotheosis. All she needed to do was find a way to activate the power that should now be hers.
Shaking away the fatigue, Hornet reached inwards, looking back to her most recent memory.
The Grand Mother… was gone, bound within her. Her very being melted down as nothing but a component of a greater whole. A whole that was entirely hers to command— hers to weave into whatever she saw fit for it to be.
Hornet reached for the fallen monarch’s power, examining the way it flowed and twisted within the confines of her soul. It felt…muted, unresponsive to her summons. The Grand Mother’s will hadn’t completely dissipated yet, it seemed, with small pieces trying desperately to resist the reality of their new ownership, meager as they were. She would have to deal with this situation delicately, should their resistance prove too much for her to handle.
Focusing inward, Hornet imagined her soul as if it were a spool of silk— a truly enormous one at that, with threads spread out in many different directions. many of the strands would shudder and wiggle around violently, utterly hostile to everything that surrounded them.
Slowly— carefully, she prodded at the seams, unravelling but a single strand.
It wasn’t much when compared to the greater whole, but was still many times greater in comparison to what she had at her disposal before. Great enough to cause her to struggle hard as she pulled on it.
The string resisted her call, attempting to coalesce back into the whole, but she held firm, pulling with even greater intensity as she considered her options. Was the amount too much for her to handle at the moment? Maybe. There was clearly something wrong with the way the silk was responding— not that she could pinpoint what it was… This was the first instance in which she had ever bound a god after all, so maybe it worked differently in such a case? She briefly considered pulling on less of the thread, though it seemed she lacked the fine control to do even that.
It wasn't as if she would be running out anytime soon, she reasoned. Her first priority should be to regain her sense of sight. She could worry about fine control later.
With greater resolve, Hornet pulled the silk all the way through, causing the monarch’s power to manifest within her for the first time. A pale glow emanated from her body, with a dim halo forming around her horns for a brief moment. Instantly, the darkness surrounding her lifted, and her vision returned to her— though not in the way she was expecting.
What met her sight was not the dim lighting of the cradles’ caverns, but rather a false glow that filled up the room in its entirety, coating every stone and surface with its presence.
It was truly a spectacular sight, though one that was also utterly overwhelming in scope.
Long threads spread out from her in all directions, covering every inch of the cavern in a thick layer of silk. But even this was but an infinitesimal fraction of her true reach.
She saw it all. The Citadel. The Songclave. Bellhart. Even the residents of Bone Bottom. All was visible to her through the eyes of the haunted. She felt every bump and texture the silk touched, every vibration, every breeze in the wind. It was as if the entirety of the world was laid bare before her.
She could see the souls of the bugs ensnared, feel their outlines, their footsteps, their every breath— and could feel the power contained within each and every one of their shells, shining with the brilliance of a hundred million lumaflies put together.
It was…
Too much. No. Enough. Not like this.
The experience was nauseating. The maiden had seen something that was not meant for mortal eyes, with every second she spent with them opened eroding her to her very core, damaging her mental faculties from the overload of information. All she wanted at the moment was to stop. To see color and light. Not whatever this was.
Leveraging what little control she had, Hornet shut off her senses once more, trying to tame the strength she had taken, attempting to soothe it— mold it.
This power is mine, and mine alone.
Obey me.
After a few seconds of stillness, she opened her eyes once more.
The chamber was… grey. And dim, and dank all over. There was yet another cocoon engulfing the platfrom, ropes of silk spiking in towards the center. She looked to her right, spotting her bright red cloak, lying there on the bridge laid out flat beside her.
Hah… she sighed. I can see again.
Grabbing her cloak, the red maiden dusted it off, donning it in a swift motion.
It was a start, at least. It appeared that she possessed the ability to alternate her vision. Was the Grand Mother ever capable of such a thing? Or was this perhaps one of her own contributions?
Hornet looked down, examining herself for any other changes she might have undergone. She didn’t feel any different, but maybe that was due to— oh?
The maiden raised her arms to eye level. All eight of them. How had she missed this? They all looked nearly identical to her original pair, and looked to be with the same efficiency to boot. Her eyes similarly appeared to have multiplied, with two extra pairs located above and below her original. She idly wondered what use she could have for them, perhaps an increase in depth perception?
Not only that, now that she was seeing it, it also appeared that the hem of her cloak wasn't reaching as low as it used to, reaching to just above her torso rather than down to her legs. It seemed that in addition to her more obvious changes, she had also gained a subtle increase in stature.
There was once a time when she had fantasized about such changes when she grew up. Feelings of inadequacy had often plagued her due to the lack of defining characteristics she had inherited from her parents… she had gained neither the pale glow of her father, nor the strength and stature of her mother.
Though now that she had finally manifested such changes, the novelty had very quickly died off for her.
It was not that they were unwelcome of course, just…
Far too unwieldy for me, somehow. They would surely be useful for a few situations, but they currently seemed to be poorly adapted for her style of combat. She idly remembered the Grand Mother being able to hide her extra limbs, so maybe, with time, she could learn to do the same?
But that was the least of her problems at the moment. She had to return to the Songclave. Having claimed the title of this kingdom’s queen, she would soon have to face the multitude of responsibilities that came with bearing the title. And she had no intention of seeing this kingdom’s fall repeat itself.
The fledgling goddess took a step forward, only to find that her body was suddenly failing to respond. Her limbs felt stiff, and it was growing increasingly difficult for her to focus.
What is...
A terrible sense of wrongness filled her.
It emanated from deep within, shaking her very foundations in a way reminiscent of the Grand Mother’s harrowing screams.
Something was welling up within her.
This is bad. Very bad.
She looked at her many hands once more, seeing all but two of them melt back into her shell, feeling every shift and crack as they did so.
Ah… so this is the power of a wyrm… A voice echoed in her mind, rousing her from her bewilderment.
Hornet looked around frantically, searching for the source of the sound.
W-what was that?
The voice… she recognised the voice. Despite… despite not having ever heard it before.
Wait… How? It’s… tight. Too tight. I feel cramped. I need… to break free?
The voice… It was Silk’s. She knew it. She could feel it— somehow— pressing down on her mind, only, it didn't come from within her.
It was her.
“What is… happening to me?” She muttered, the building terror threatening to overwhelm her like never before.
The monarch should be dead. Well and truly. Melted down into slag and reforged into something new. Yet somehow, her consciousness remained— at least in part, squirming within her shell like a twisted bud— only this time, manifesting as a part of her very soul.
There would be no undoing the process this time.
And now it was trying to wrest control from her. To take possession of her body. Was this the Monarch’s plan all along?
Whatever the case, Hornet would never allow it. The consequences of her failure would be far too terrible to behold. She resisted with all her might, pushing the opposing will back down. She would become a god, and strike down the monarch for good, for the sake of Pharloom and her people.
Hornet fell to the ground, feeling her mind liquefying as her soul rippled under the weight of two clashing wills.
And so the battle began anew, this time within the confines of her very own shell. The opposing forces would push, tear and sear the other ferociously, attempting to subsume their enemy’s agency.
Hornet's spirit, being far more in control as it was, was the more dominant force in the fight, allowing her to brute force her way into quelling the absorbed spirit. However, the pale being’s will remained defiant even in its reduced state, and did everything in its power to weaken her opponent's position.
Hornet clutched her head in pain, struggling to keep herself afloat.
Steady… now. She needed to focus. She needed to… subsume… break… free…
She would not yield a single inch. She was a goddess. And not just fuel to be fed into a machine.
There was pressure building up within.
There was a push from beneath her shell. She let out a tortured groan, shuddering violently. Pain bloomed on her face.
Cracked. Something cracked.
Hornet looked to the floor. There was… a shard— a shell-white shard was lying on the floor.
It was… a piece of her. Oh… a piece of her mask. Her very identity. A gaping hole was left in its wake, Black tar pouring out from the site of the injury, trickling down below her.
This was… hers… all hers…
She was losing herself.
She shuddered in pain once more, giving off a sickly, animalistic cough.
There was… shifting… within her shell. Cracking and churning, breaking down her insides and stretching them out, out, out.
Hornet wanted to scream. She shouldn’t be awake for this… yes. She should just… rest a while. This was… A terrible dream… NO.
Shut up. Shut up!
She was growing. Up and up and up. Into what, she didn’t know. Her soul… Her body couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle the power that was now streaking within her, and was changing her into something that could more easily accommodate it. Becoming something greater. More horrifying. More Beautiful.
Her limbs stretched outwards, gilded metal thickening around her arms like vambraces, giving them a regal shine. Meanwhile, silver coated the whole length of her claws, giving them a metallic, razor-sharp edge that rivalled the gleam of her needle.
No. No. No. No. No.
Her face shattered, its bits and pieces plummeting to the floor as the black tar streamed down her cloak continuously.
She was becoming her. Becoming the Grand Mother.
More and more her body grew, the gold now lining her legs as she reached over three times her original height. Her Cloak was stretched to its very limits, on the verge of being torn apart at the seams.
She had to keep fighting. She could still… win. Just a bit more, and the wyrm blood, which she so highly coveted, would finally be hers. She would finally awaken from that accursed spell, and would rule her kingdom born anew. No spell would silence her. No bug would resist her strings. Her pure, albeit flawed existence would be gone for good, replaced by a truly perfect form.
Her cloak constricted around her, threatening to tear under the pressure with each passing moment. Her silk subconsciously spun around the fabric, altering it to keep up with her ever-growing size. Meanwhile, her horns lengthened outward, breaking and reforming multiple times as shellshards splintered and regrew themselves.
She would… never do such things. She needed to remember. She was Hornet. Daughter of Hallownest. The red maiden, and defender of this kingdom and its people, as she had sworn to be upon taking up the mantle.
But... even then, she had ascended, hadn't she? How could she restrain herself to only being Hornet?
Newer eyeholes cracked open from the sides of her horns, which now sat on her head like a brilliant crown. It wasn't long before her vision was returned to her.
Blinking away the shards, the goddess looked within once more. She needed to calm herself. Calm the turbulent tides within her soul.
She needed… to reach a consensus, lest she risk damaging herself irreversibly.
Both wills suddenly ceased, confused by the shared thought. Consensus? Both were sure that they hadn’t come up with such a ridiculous conclusion. To have their enemy/host as a permanent passenger in their mind was a fate worse than death, no matter how one chose to put it..
Yet as the confusion dissipated, and they once more returned to clashing with one another, both minds felt their anger double in its intensity, their shared hatred bleeding into each other's psyches. The next clash was even worse, this time transmitting more than just emotions, but thoughts, memories, mannerisms.
It was then that the wills recoiled from one another violently, as if having been scalded with boiling water.
This was not good/The worst case scenario.
Their essences were beginning to blend together. Who knows what would happen If this kept up… would their consciousnesses inevitably end up… integrated into each other, their minds subsumed into a sort of composite entity? In such case, they would no longer be themselves anymore, but rather herself.
She shuddered violently.
Silk, no- Hornet, wanted nothing more than vomit at such a revolting idea.
She didn't want to disappear. But what could she do? Every second spent probing her enemy was a moment lost forming the composite. Even now, passively engaged as they were, foreign memories would occasionally enter her mind, and she would feel them imprinting upon her, subtly changing her sense of self each time. If she didn't do anything soon, her fighting spirit would soon perish along with her ability to identify herself.
Silk Hornet knew that, realistically, there was only one option left available to her. A last-ditch effort, mustering all her willpower into one final attack, giving everything she had. A stupid plan, a part of her thought, the chance would be slim— Far too slim by the looks of things— but what other choice did she have?
What would happen to her after this? If she failed?
Would she still be herself? What would she retain? What would she lose in the process? Would she look at all those bugs she had saved, her friends, the pilgrims, the innocents, with the same scope ever again? Or would she instead trample them under her feet with the detached coldness of the pale monarch?
Hornet relaxed herself, clearing out her mind— savoring what would most likely be her final moments as herself.
I... I'm fading...
I'm sorry...
Pooling everything she had, the red maiden hurled herself at her enemy with all her might. Red collided with silver, and from the point of impact erupted a blinding light that coursed all throughout her body, flooding her very being with its brilliance.
And then all was still. The ripples faded, the turbulence within her soul settling down into a nervous calm.
The victor rose in the aftermath, a thick fog of uncertainty clouding her mind. Did she… win? She… seemed to be the only one here. She searched her soul for any disturbances, any remnants of her enemy that may have escaped her notice. Though she only found herself alone and victorious. A sense of triumph filled her.
She had won. She did it. She wanted to laugh. To cry.
Hahaha… I thought I was finished there for a moment…
She… these memories… weren’t adding up. She felt… different. Why did she feel different?
“No. Nonononono. This is wrong. This can’t be!” She screamed, clutching her head with her gilded arms.
Calm… clear your thoughts. Breath in… breath out…
She… She was Hornet…
and yet… she was also Silk…
No. NONONO. She would not be Silk. She was a flawed, imperfect being that was tyrannical and vicious, knowing not the difference between mortal bug and prized possession.
She would be more compassionate, empathetic, diplomatic. yes, focus. Far more than her old self was. More akin to the pale king in lands far away.
Yet, she…
Crack. Tar pooling down. She seemed to have forgotten the state of her physical body.
She couldn't be Hornet either. The headstrong, meddling fool who abandoned ten bugs for every one that she saved. Helpless to change her fate despite her godling blood, Unable to save her own kingdom- No, nothing but lies! Or herself from her inevitable fate.
She was still… Able to save this kingdom. Its lands and people both.
But not as herself.
She would be neither of them. Both of them.
She rose to full height, almost as tall as the previous monarch had been. Silver threads spread out from her head, cascading down her shoulders. Her face swirled, moulding itself from the still-dripping tar. Silk spun out from her horns, weaving itself into a shining halo, radiating a cold, pale light.
Within her soul, the turbulence stilled. Now chipped away and polished out, it mended back, coalescing, warily accepting.
With the two pieces slotting together, the wrongness within finally dissipated. The voices were gone, and all was silent within her. She breathed a sigh of relief.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the newly born goddess felt whole.
It truly was a strange feeling, she considered— being a god twice over. To have two essences swirling together in harmony within her. One of silk, and the other of wyrm, forming a combined strength that was greater than either of them.
Spinning her silk, the monarch formed a thin sheet, which turned clear and reflective on her command. A hastily assembled mirror.
She looked herself over, properly acquainting herself with her new form.
Though she knew not which part of herself she was basing her expectations on, she could certainly say that she looked… good. Her face was very much in line with Silk’s, though elements inherited from Hornet were woven together in other areas, such as her wyrm-like horns and eyes plastered on the sides of her head. She was much taller/A head shorter than she had been previously, and her cloak had been altered to fit her size, being gilded on the edges, bearing the mark of the citadel on the center.
Overall, it was a form that truly befitted the grandeur of a pale being such as herself.
The goddess sighed. She should really stop referring to herself by her title.
Referring to herself as Hornet was… acceptable, but made a different part of her rather uncomfortable at the notion. But then again—
Continuing to call herself Silk of all things was so uninspired.
She felt her irritation swelling at that.
Well, it isn’t as if I can come up with a name any better…
The internal debate continued, fruitlessly going on and on in circles. Eventually, one side relented, albeit begrudgingly.
Until such time passed that she could find a better name, Hornet is what she would continue to call herself.
Any dissenting parts of her would just have to get used to it.
Now free from the second cocoon, she leapt down from the ledge, unfurling her cloak as she floated down to the cradle’s floor without a sound. Her enormous size meant that the ventrica networks were currently innacessible, and she would likely need to descend through the cogwork core. Though as she looked over to the exit, it seemed that even that had too low a ceiling to fit through. A most unaccommodating design indeed.
Maybe she should attempt to squeeze herself through?
She focused, attempting to shrink herself down. She had never attempted such a thing before, but she was a goddess after all, so maybe such a feat was within the realm of possibility for her.
She imagined herself as being just large enough to fit through the chamber. Somewhat surprisingly, her body followed, her height beginning to visibly shrink, soon being low enough to fit through the tunnel. However, it seemed that maintaining her shorter stature would prove to be more difficult than anticipated, as like a loaded spring, her body seemed to poorly enjoy being compressed so diminutively. In fact, it was taking quite a load of conscious effort on her part to maintain her height.
Hornet considered her options. The prospect of having to squeeze through a maze of tight halls was proving less and less appealing by the moment. It would be far more efficient for her to simply break her way out and into the citadel’s spires.
And for that--- she looked to the gleam of Palesteel.
She would need just the right tool.
Returning to full height, Hornet walked toward her needle, picking it up. The weapon looked pitifully small in her claws, more akin to a piece of silverware than a proper needle.
Gripping it tightly, her silk wrapped around the weapon, converting itself into pale soul as it sank into the metal. Her brass scissorblades levitated towards her, orbiting the glowing needle, glowing brightly as they approached. Then, with a bright flash, the scissor blades fused into the weapon, reforging them into a single, amalgamated form. The new blade lengthened itself, cooling down as it did so, becoming almost as long as she was tall. It settled back down into her grasp, its edges sharp and polished.
The blade looked like a cross between both weapons. It was long and slender, with a thin, piercing tip like her needle, yet widened further down into a shape that curved slightly, more resembling the slicing edge of her scissorblades. It featured a more defined handguard, with a much larger loop that encompassed the handle completely. The blade itself gleamed a pale silver, with hexagonal etchings running down its whole length.
A fine weapon.
Hornet swung the blade a few times to test its balance. Admittedly, she was not a monarch suited for combat back when she was still silk, and it would take quite some time for her to adjust to her new weapon, but she could certainly still attest to its quality.
The palesteel would thrum each time she swung it, energy trailing down its path in a way that was highly reminiscent of the Shaman’s crest, but with elements that felt completely distinct to itself. Perhaps she would call it the crest of the monarch? Or maybe a different name altogether- yet along those lines. It would certainly inflict a great deal of damage to any bug foolish enough to get in its path.
That being said… It would be unlikely that she would encounter too many bugs that would be meant for such a weapon. The way it handled made it rather unwieldy for her purposes
Hornet focused on her weapon, slightly altering its form to better suit her needs. Ah, the wanderer’s crest. The blade turned shorter, sleeker. More suitable for now.
Hornet suddenly felt a tingle in her mind. Perhaps a manifestation of her wyrmblood, a vision appeared before her, vague yet urgent, indicating that someone was rapidly approaching her chamber.
Turning her head to the room’s entrance, she spotted an animated bundle of silk hop into the room, pin in hand.
It… It was lace… Her… her daughter?
Her head was aching...
The fencer had an enraged look on her face— muttering inaudibly under her breath. But as her gaze travelled to one of the platforms and caught sight of the new monarch, her eyes flew wide open, her expression shifting to one of apparent terror.
“M-mother…?” She managed to breathe out, clearly aghast, and more than a little confused at what she was seeing, feeling her mind race at the sight. Had she… taken the spider’s power? Had this always been her plan? What would she… do with her now…?
“Hmm?” Hornet hummed, testing her new voice. “You look surprised to see me, child.” Was this how she sounded like? A voice deeper than Hornet’s, yet much higher than silk’s, though far more melodious than both.
“N-no. That’s… No. Who… What are you?”
“A strange question.” She replied. “I am your mother, am I not?”
A moment of shock colored her face, only to be replaced with confusion mixed with a deep, simmering anger. For some reason, seeing her expression was enough to give her a tinge of guilt.
“No. You lie. M-my real mother would never speak in such tones— nor would she call me “child” in such a manner. Isn’t that right, spider?” she spat, regaining a small amount of confidence despite her fear. “Not so little anymore, it seems.”
“So you’ve figured it out. Was it not obvious?” Hornet lightly jabbed, not realizing how the construct seemed to visibly relax at her words.
“So you’ve… usurped her.” She giggled, though there was no warmth to it. “Taken her power aaallll for yourself.”
“In a way. In truth, it was a much messier affair than I would’ve anticipated.”
“Messier? Hah… Don’t make me laugh… I can barely tell you two apart.” She stated, before finding her strength faltering. It was getting increasingly difficult for her to focus.
“In fact, I would go so far as to say that you're essentially her... her spitting image.” She muttered, trying not to tip over.
“Are you alright?” Hornet said as she approached her, showing an uncharacteristic amount of concern. She gathered silk in her hands, reaching for the injured fencer.
SWIPE
“Don’t touch me,” she growled. “I dont… need your pity…”
Hornet stared, unsure of how to respond. She had beaten her quite thoroughly, hadn’t she? Looking back, Lace seemed to have every reason to distrust her— hate her even. She had essentially abandoned her— treating her as more of a stand in— a construct, more than an actual daughter.
In truth, she was more than that. Far more. More than just an imitation, a machine. She was capable of frustration. Sorrow. Elation. Moving and speaking just as any other bug within Pharloom’s caverns.
A wave of guilt washed over her. How could she have been so blind? So… Horrible? Did she even deserve to call herself a “mother” under such circumstances? N-no. She was... She was only doing what she thought was right. She just... wanted a daughter of her own. That was all she had ever wanted from the start. She had every right to treat her they way she... no, did she?
But then again... Agh! Lace was hurt. She had to focus!
“Hush now. I’m just going to heal your wounds.” She said, cradling the silken construct in her arms. The girl resisted, but quickly turned passive as her wounds began to mend.
Silk flowed out from within her shell, healing the child’s injuries, mending tears and cuts, removing fatigue and internal pain. Looking within her body, she seemed to be missing her silkheart, a creation of hers that replicated her ability to infinitely produce silk, though not at any substantial rate. Her other self had taken it upon her victory, thus explaining her bout of weakness. Apologies for that…
But now she would make things right. The process of making Silkhearts was a laborious one, and the quality of which was wholly dependent on how much time she needed to spend crafting them. It was a task she had woefully neglected in favor of furthering her other goals- a matter of efficiency, is all.
The monarch tapped into her reserves, siphoning a suitably massive amount of silk. Much, much more than what she would normally allot to such a project in the past, spinning the threads into an improved version of the silken heart.
She had known that her power now far outstripped both of her previous selves, but it wasn’t until that moment that she realized just how vast her reserves truly were. With such power she could easily accomplish every single one of her old self’s goals… Ensuring the kingdom's eternal loyalty with but a flick of her wrist— pacifying areas that had resisted her influence for the longest time, before extending her reach to lands far beyond even her own domain…
It was… An admittedly enticing prospect, as a part of her could attest to, though it was ultimately something she would not want to define herself by.
She would focus more on the present, for now.
“And there it is, my finest silkheart yet…” Gently, the monarch infused the heart within Lace’s body, before pouring some extra silk to ensure her continued safety for the time being. She had really outdone herself this time. No longer would the girl need to return to her periodically to sustain herself.
Hornet lowered her to the ground, a look of embarrassment filling the child’s face.
“Why are you being so kind to me?” She muttered, avoiding her gaze. “I tried to kill you…”
“You needn’t worry about that, young one. As for your question, I was feeling a sense of shame, is all. For the way I treated you in ages past,” the monarch said, hoping to make amends.
Her words did not seem to have the desired effect however, as the girl stiffened, a sudden clarity striking her. Lace’s gaze locked onto the monarch, her mouth trembling. “So you're still her. In a way…” She breathed, gripping her pin so hard it would have drawn blood had she been any normal bug. “She was never gone, and I- hah… I let her… I let you hug me…”
Her gaze had turned dangerous. She should have chosen her words more carefully.
“I… I DEMAND that you free me!” She cried out. “Or I’ll strike you down where you stand!”
“Free you? If it's freedom you want-”
“Don’t you dare. I want freedom. Freedom from this curse you call living!” She sobbed.
“I- You should calm yourself, L-lace. We should talk this through.” She was stuttering. Did she… Did she really feel this way?
“Enough talk!” Lace raised her pin, taking on a stance. There would be no room for negotiation, it seemed.
The girl charged towards her direction, her form a blur of pin and silk. She was faster. Much faster. It was apparent that her newly fashioned silkheart had given her a plethora of new abilities to use.
The attack would have hit her square on, but Hornet sidestepped at the last moment, causing the blow to breeze right past her, her gilded cloak fluttering in its wake. Now that was a dodge worthy of a monarch.
Lace’s charge slowed, transferring her momentum into a full-on sprint as she pivoted, making a beeline right for her.
Hornet raised her blade just as the girl leaped in the air, unleashing a flurry of strikes at the monarch. Hornet weaved through most of them, deflecting any attacks that made their way a bit too close for comfort. In truth, the greater challenge lay not in avoiding her opponents' strikes, but rather in positioning herself, as many of her dodges seemed to drift seamlessly into the path of yet another attack.
It was truly surprising how her own abilities had improved. She had taken the red maiden’s speed and agility, combining them with the Pale monarch’s grace and weightlessness, weaving them into a style that made use of the best of each. The result was a way of movement so fluid that it was almost unreal, dancing around each strike like a phantom— seemingly untouchable amidst the hail of attacks.
“Are you done?” She asked, twirling around the last strike as she tilted her head. She could easily just grab the petulant girl, stopping her tantrum by force, but something told her that it would do little to quell her anger. Instead, it would be far more effective to let the girl tire herself out, cooling her temper in the process. (whilst also allowing the monarch to test out her new capabilities— not that she would say such out loud.)
Seeing Hornet effortlessly evade her barrage, Lace retreated once more, opting for a more strategic approach.
Her attacks were slower now, but much more unpredictable. Lace made excellent use of her silk, speeding up and slowing down erratically, augmenting her pin with silk, sometimes even utilizing her environment to her advantage, lobbing rocks and metal slag at her. The fencer was adapting her tactics, bringing out the full potential of her newly gained power. She would end up nearly skewering her on a few occasions, but would ultimately remain unable to land a solid blow. It wouldn't take long for the monarch to tire of the girl’s tenacity.
“Lace… please. You have to stop this.” Hornet pleaded. “I have no desire to hurt you.”
Lace laughed hard, her voice hysterical. “Hurt? You’ve hurt me plenty already!”
“I was nothing but a replacement in your eyes!” Dodge. Deflect. Parry, but never riposte.
“You abandoned me when I needed you most!” Too early. Tch. A string of Silk grazed her cloak, ripping apart a section of the fabric to shreds.
I-Im…
“You- you killed sister!” Hornet faltered, slowing just enough for the pin to pierce her torso. Threads tore open at the site, only to instantly mend back together again.
I’m sorry…
“And now you want me to go on living in a world with you in it?” The fencer let loose a great cross slash, barely missing once more, leaving a golden afterglow in its wake. Having been left momentarily dazzled by the light, Hornet failed to notice the fencer reposition, her pin now trained inches from her face.
Acting on pure reflex, or perhaps a momentary lack of judgement, the pin found itself trapped between the blades of Hornet’s silver claws, wrenching it free from Lace’s grip before swatting her away with the butt of her blade.
Lace hit the ground hard, clutching her chest in pain. Though it did not take long for her to pick herself up once more.
Hornet froze. She realized her mistake too late. “I-” Please… forgive me…
“Enough!” The monarch cried. Before lace could charge once more, strings manifested along the length of her blade, which glowed brightly, playing a solemn tune that stopped the girl dead in her tracks.
Having been sapped of her strength, Lace could do nothing else but fall to her knees, bursting out into unsettling laughter, each note almost half a sob.
The fight all but abandoned, Hornet rushed toward the girl, embracing her tightly.
“Lace, I-Im sorry… I’ve hurt you.” Lace was not listening, preoccupied with wailing on her shoulder. “Hurt you badly. And yet, I know not how to resolve my errors, or if any action I undertake in the future will ever be enough to atone…"
"I was… A terrible being— A terrible mother, in the past. I see that now.”
“You have… much to live for. Much more to see out there, in the vast caverns. You are so much more than… a silken construct, woven together by my hands… you can laugh… you, you can cry as well. You have defended this haunted realm valiantly throughout the years… And have been a better daughter than I ever could have asked for, or ever have deserved.” All laughter had ceased, devolving into a series of pained gasps.
“I know that… My previous self has sinned greatly, but please, don't throw away your life for my shortcomings.” She pleaded. Her voice flickering out into silence.
They stayed that way, for a great long while. The chamber was silent, with nothing but the sound of the occasional snivel filling its halls. It was a strange silence, Lace reckoned, very different from the stale atmosphere of the halls below. It was… comforting somehow, almost warm. She had never been embraced quite like this before. It would be lying for her to say that it wasn’t a pleasant experience, at the very least.
“I suppose I… should have stayed my judgment about you.” The child said, breaking the long quiet. “You… you're really nothing like her, are you?”
“Hmm?”
“You look like her, you sound like her, yet— you certainly don’t act the part of an egomaniacal goddess.”
“I am… not like her in some ways, yes. But I am still in others.” she trailed off.
“What I mean to say is, I just never believed a pale goddess to be capable of crying, is all.”
Hornet touched her face, noticing the slight moisture. It seemed she had shed a few tears. “I suppose that this event has been to the old monarch’s benefit, it seems, just as much as to her detriment."
"This new perspective on things has… taught me much about my own shortcomings. I will be an altogether— very different goddess moving forward. ” At that, she finally released Lace from her grasp, the child stepping down onto the cold stone floor.
“I can only hope that you find within you the mercy to forgive this fool of a monarch. If not, at the very least have the will to go out into the world on your own terms, but without the shadow of despair holding you down.”
Hornet stood back to full height, brushing off her cloak. “I can only hope for that much, as your former mother.”
Lace stared ar her, unsure of what to say. She turned her head to the exit.
“I need to think. About… All this.” Lace finally said, pensive.
“Take all the time you need.”
“Before I leave… I don’t believe I’ve caught your name?”
“You may call me Hornet, if you please. “
“Really?” She scoffed. Incredulous. “You’ve kept to using the spider’s name?”
“You knew my name? I scarcely recall ever telling you such a thing.”
“I— have my sources. As do you. I just— I would’ve thought you’d come up with something more… fitting for your station, is all... It seems you’ve inherited my old mother’s appalling lack of artistic creativity.” Lace said. It seemed that her usual snark was finally returning.
“Hmph. Worry not. More change will certainly come to me yet, and the kingdom by extension. I only hope that I won't have to spend such time alone. It would be terribly lonely.”
Lace smiled at that. She looked up at the tangled web of silk above, then back down to the newly crowned monarch. “I suppose this is goodbye, then?”
“I suppose it is.”
Waving her hand one last time, in the blink of an eye, Lace propelled herself to the exit, leaving the chamber without a trace.
Hornet sighed, though not with any negative connotations. Who knew that having to fix her component's problems would end up being so draining?
But it was not without a worthwhile outcome. She thought. She had a sneaking feeling that this would not be the last time she’d cross paths with the silken fencer.
Looking back to other concerns, Hornet looked up to the Cradle’s walls, refreshing her mind on the ordeals she would soon need to carry out. Picking a spot to strike, she took her blade, flinging it high into the cavern walls, the enormous weapon embedding itself deep into the stone.
With a flick of her wrist, the goddess propelled herself through the length of her clawline, breaking the walls apart as she collided with them.
Light greeted her as the dust dissipated, though it was a far cry from the warmth of natural cavern light. It was pale. Silken. Covering the entirety of the Citadel’s crown. Hornet gasped, taking the sight before her… What met her was a veritable sea of silk, blotting out the sky with its sheer volume.
A cocoon, she realized. A grand, overwhelming monument to her rebirth, threads stretching out from its colossal bulk in all directions.
Undeterred, her hair reached out to the cavern walls, connecting with the greater cocoon. She focused, tapping into the minds of all the bugs strung up by her threads. The pilgrims, the sinners, the holy and the damned. Placing a figurative hold on the strings that bound them.
It was time for the kingdom to wake up from its long, silken dreams.