A gift, he says. What gift is this, to be forced to carry on without purpose, a forever incomplete being? If its hurt cannot be healed, can it not be put to rest?
The Hollow Knight is no more.
Its memory is hazy, light-bleached. But in this moment, it recalls one sight clearly: the small figure of its usurper sibling, come to cut it down.
What was to become of that little thing? Could it succeed, or was it doomed to the same fate, another casualty in an unending chain of tragedy?
…No. In truth, it never was. Its mission… my mission, saw no possible outcome but failure.
All was for nothing. What is left?
Unfortunately, Grimm no longer remembers what he’d learned here previously. Of the Ancient Light’s defeat and the little vessel’s ascension, of his own success in being reborn, or what any of it might mean for the future of that world.
“All things come to an end. That is truth. To punish oneself for the nature of reality is nonsensical. Though... It is not to say all has ended. You yet remain. And you would not know, but all have the ability to become something new—that includes you, my friend. You will become something new.”
In his experience, bugs who have never known freedom don’t know what to do with it. In the worst cases, they may not even be able to decide upon something as simple as a favorite color. When everything is decided for them, thought becomes like an unworked muscle. Such things must slowly be exercised.
“There are many paths to take. But if you find it too difficult, then... follow me, and I will tell you what to do.”
The god offers a hand, as he has done for so many before.
