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Their King selected their Sibling, and they watched the door seal behind the two retreating forms. They stood in the dark so long they forgot light; they gave up hope of feeling its presence again. Some melted back into void, and some gave into despair. Those that remained waited and dreamed of the Light returning. When they heard their Sibling crying in pain, they startled. They beat against the walls of their enclosure and carved an exit from their tombs.
Some left together, clawing their way out of the darkness, huddling like leaves against the onset of wind. And with the same sudden desperation of when they were thrown together, they scattered apart, and never saw each other again.
A few barely made it out of the Abyss, consumed by the deceitful monster wearing a sibling’s face. They each fell to the beast alone, their bodies gathered again in death. None of the children were a filling meal, but the beast was too insatiable to care.
…
Another crept its way into the City. It watched the Relic Seeker from afar and grew to love the stranger and his shop. Choiceless it grew in his visage, its love manifesting in its mask and horns. He never met the Vessel, but he occasionally found odd items on his porch and took his favorites inside. It knew it was failing in its purpose, but it struggled to find the determination to fight its nature. It looked up at the drowning statue, contemplating its Sibling’s pain. Through its sacrifice, the plaque said. What made its voiceless brethren cry? What caused its suffering?
The Vessel stayed in the City for ages, and then the Seeker stopped leaving to seek. Soon, it left; it didn’t want to find him infected or dead.
Next, it stumbled across the Masters and Sage. They taught it to wield a Nail, and they named it, and loved it. It was never hollow, but the Masters and Sage condemned it to never be empty, either. The Mute Vessel loved them back, for how could it not? They traveled great distances together, and the Hive Queen bestowed the Vessel with Wings for its helpful nature. It accepted the gift; it had never seen the Masters and Sage so proud. For a being designed hollow, it had never felt so whole.
Not long after, one brother solved the mystery of the Vessel. He urged it to continue and sent it away to its death. Another brother cursed him for this betrayal, and the third was left behind. The brothers went their separate ways, and the Sage wept. When the Vessel heard, it felt regret for the first time. It retreated, wandering in a daze. The world felt too bright.
The Vessel did not know how much time passed before it found the Basin of Creation. Perhaps it heard the call of their Siblings, or the call of the night. It found itself on the wrong side of the door and read the damning words embedded with Soul. The refuse and regret of its creation. Oh. How could something so painful fit so well? Turning to leave, it used the Queen's Wings one last time. It didn’t make it far before it fell, and only regretted that it hadn’t fallen sooner. The last thing the Vessel did was set the Wings aside, secure, where it could taint them no longer. It collapsed, then, and tried to channel in the Infection. Practice, it had thought, for when it freed its Sibling. The Vessel shattered instead.
…
There is another Vessel with a different fate. Instead of meeting bugs, it climbed higher and met moss. Oh, how beautiful the greenery is, it thought, and wandered through the Gardens. The Queen it never met, but she felt its presence in the far corners of her mind, a small tapping of something long forgotten. She never remembered it and forgot it as soon as it left.
When it stumbled across the Void Gate, it heard the pain of its Siblings, and ran in fear. It ascended to other green places without such terrible things, and then onward to its Sibling’s cries. It felt its Sibling’s suffering, its desire for an end. This little Vessel felt pain so potent; it ran, and ran, and ran. It stumbled back into the safety of the greenery, until it couldn’t stumble along anymore. The pain of its Siblings gored it, and it did whatever it took to make the pain end. As its murky body melted into the grass, its only regret was that its death didn’t make its Siblings hurt any less.
…
They were the last of their Siblings to leave. They met the others’ shades one by one, sitting and waiting for them to find peace. Only two shades had never returned. One was expected, and the other was missing. They hoped that meant they were okay. That one always remained Lost.
This Vessel climbed along the same old path, alone. Those few friends’ shells—together, too high—they hurried past, escaping before the Beast returned to its lair. They found their way not through gardens but through fog and spores, following the sounds of the Chosen Sibling’s pain. They sat outside the heated Egg before continuing into the Land of Plants. They stared at the nail in their Sibling’s chest, distantly noting the grip of its hands. They tried not to remember how hopeful it had been when leaving the Abyss.
The pulsating beat of the Chosen Sibling’s cries echo louder, and they step backwards, away. The Vessel retreats—first slowly, then faster, rising in a crescendo of horrified shame. Self-sacrifice and self-preservation war within them; they know they are not hollow. Not yet.
They leave Hallownest, relinquishing their mind readily, for who would want to remember how thoroughly they and their kin were betrayed? Who would want to recall the chilling pleas of their Sibling, begging for death, replacement?
…
A quiet creature approaches a dusty village cautiously but without fear. They heard a cry, so piercing and pained they cannot ignore it, will not ignore it. These lands seem familiar; the earth seems to recognize their presence. They continue forward. The lands behind had already emptied them; what else did they have to lose? What else could possibly bring them pain?