a vast, meticulously carved pit in the center of this city begs one to descend.
a dark sky overhead draws their focus next, sun blotted out by some supernatural cause the knight has no name for. the fiery rim of the eclipse is briefly alluring. yet there is naught an implication that this setting bears any significance to the small one. neither familiarity nor abnormality piques a thought in the void-filled shell atop their thin shoulders.
merely a sense of purpose. a duty, a drive, one sole impulse sewn into their very being. yet the beings milling around this strange crater are not of their kind, nor that of bug-kind. none such creatures have been known to those of hallownest.
yet, still, nothing stirs within them. nothing but purpose.
stepping up to the edge of the hole, undeterred by the thick ambiance it emanates, it seems at though this small knight intends to take the plunge ...







