Hollow City (A Hollow Knight OC AU)

True Fear

(Art not mine)
https://imgur.com/gallery/mEhHezz

Darkness. It was the only word I could use to describe this place. So many of my siblings' corpses lying around the cavernous depths. Their shade forms haunting the area.

"Hello, siblings."

The Pale King himself had sent me into this forsaken pit to search for...something. "You'll know when you see it," were his parting words, but so far I'd found nothing.

"Hm?"

I stilled, straining my senses. For a moment I could have sworn I heard faint footsteps echoing through the shadows.

Flap... flap...

Unsheathing my nail, I stayed on guard, senses peaked. The sound faded, and I shook my head.

"I must be hearing things. Nothing of this forsaken world can possibly live down here."

No sooner had the words left my tongue than something enormous slammed into me from the darkness. I went sprawling, stunned, barely managing to roll aside as it struck again with frightening speed. A deep gash opened in my side, ichor weeping from the wound.

What in the ever-loving Abyss was this thing?! I could barely make out its form, seeming to be shrouded in pure darkness itself. Stifling a cry of pain, I brandished my nail.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" I roared into the endless gloom.

Wyre!

But the creature seemed to be toying with me, biding its time as it weaved around my feeble strikes with ease. I was thoroughly outmatched, unable to land a single blow. Cold dread began seeping into my core as it advanced again, sensing my sapped strength.

Wyre!

This couldn't be how it ended...could it?

WYRE!

THUD!

I jolted awake, instinctively hurling my nail in the direction of the sudden noise. It clanged against the wall, narrowly missing the vessel as she jumped back in alarm.

My arm trembled violently, the other hand clutched to my side as if I could actually feel the phantom wound. Cold sweat beaded on my brow as fragments of the vivid dream still clung to my disoriented mind.

"Are you okay, Wyre?" she asked cautiously. "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

I could only stare at her mutely for a moment, struggling to regain my bearings. "...Yes," I finally forced out, my voice sounding unconvincing even to my own ears.

The concern didn't leave her expression. "Are you sure?"

Flashes of that dark, eldritch horror from my dream flickered through my thoughts. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering.

Pushing it all down, I collected what composure I could muster. "I can assure you, I am alright," I stated in a clipped tone, praying she wouldn't pry further.

It was just a dream... wasn't it?

A thought struck me then, an icy spike of dread. "Do you have a mirror anywhere?"

She seemed taken aback by the non-sequitur but replied all the same. "Yeah, it's in the bathroom."

With a terse nod, I rose from the cushioned bench and made my way to the adjacent chamber, leaving the vessel looking utterly bewildered in my wake. Shutting the door, I stood before the reflective surface, steeling myself.

Alright Wyre... if you see scars on your side, do NOT panic.

Drawing an apprehensive breath, I slowly pulled aside my tattered cloak to inspect my pale carapace beneath. There, etched into my exoskeleton, were four jagged horizontal scars I didn't recall sustaining in any battle.

The breath left me in a harsh exhale as my legs nearly buckled. This made no sense... and yet that dreamed wound was unmistakably, viscerally real.

What was that thing...?