Hollow Knight Novels & Stories

" Malakai smirked when he thought of the answer. "We're ghosts baby." Malakai responded and Eden wanted to laugh, but she was so confused at the same time. "Huh? The fuck do you mean?" Eden said and looked up to see a mischievous glint in her boyfriend's eyes. "I have someone, a hacker, his name is Rhys. He'd remove everyone's DNA, their information and everything there is about them off the systems of the world. When you joined the agency, he did the same. In short, we don't exist little one." Malakai said and Eden's eyes widened. She never knew the extent to which Malakai could go.

It barely cut through the thick air, but it was enough to reveal symbols—etched into every surface, moving like snakes beneath glass. Damien wiped the blood from his temple and looked around. “Where the hell are we?” “I think…” I swallowed. “We’re inside the Hollow.” Theo turned sharply. “Impossible. The Hollow is metaphysical. It’s not a place you fall into—” “Tell that to my ribs,” Damien grunted. “No,” I interrupted. “It’s not just a place. It’s a living thing. And Mira’s been feeding it.” That silenced them. I took a shaky step forward, drawn by the faint thrum in the sword. It pulsed in my hand like a heartbeat, syncing with the glow beneath our feet.

Now the fur was gone from my skin, but I was still traumatized. "You should answer when an Alpha asks you," reprimanded Rutherford, and I sighed. "So, she's Luna?" I said, pointing to the annoying girl who was staring at me with disgust. "Prospective Luna," Rutherford corrected, while Ikaros answered with a short 'yes.' "I understand now," I said coldly. So, this guy touched me just for his own pleasure, because he already had that snobbish woman as his partner. "Do you want some bread, perhaps? You look really pale and unhealthy," Rutherford said, ignoring the cold tone in my voice.

CRACK-THWACK. Chunks of white bone flew into the air. The heavy rounds punched through their chests, shattering their torsos. The front line of the Hollow Men fell. They didn't scream. They just collapsed into piles of dry, rattling debris. "It works!" Kai shouted. "Kinetic damage! Keep pouring it on!" But they didn't stop. The second row stepped over the shattered remains of the first. And the third. And the fourth. There were thousands of them, emerging from the woods like a white tide. And they were fast. Once the initial volley ended, they broke into a run. It wasn't a human run. It was a scuttling, spider-like sprint, limbs moving at unnatural angles. "Brace!" Damian roared. They hit ou

The air tasted wrong—metallic and stale, like a room that hadn't been opened in a hundred years. "They're here," I said. I looked toward the entrance at the far end of the rink. Three figures stepped out . They weren't wearing hockey gear. They were wearing ragged black suits. Their skin was the color of a bruise, and their eyes were glowing with a sickly, pulsing purple light. The Hollow Ones. They didn't even howl. The first one leaped onto the ice, its claws extending six inches from its fingertips. It swiped at a defensive player, sending the boy flying into the boards with a sickening thud.

“Then we make this moment matter.” In the distance, the Harbinger reassembled. Its form, once pristine and emotionless, now trembled with barely contained fury. The mirror-like surface of its face had cracked beyond recognition, revealing swirling black beneath—a void that devoured light. “You think you’ve won?” it snarled. “You’ve severed one thread. The tapestry remains. The Hollow is the tapestry.” Kaela narrowed her eyes. “Then we burn it all.” The relic blade pulsed in agreement, resonating with Kaela’s rage and Ethan’s resolve. Together, they stepped toward the collapsing core—the heart of the Hollow’s influence. A place born from silence, shaped by sorrow, and fed through generations

A mist-walker born of whispers and midnight mist, belonging nowhere, belonging to no one. The Hollow was the only world I had ever known. A sprawling fortress of black stone and mist-clung corridors deep within a forest older than the oldest gods. To its warriors and noble-born candidates, the Hollow was holy ground. To its servants — those of low birth, half-breeds, mist-born or cursed — it was a prison. To me, it was both.

The house did not drink it. Interesting. Gross. But interesting. The creature looked at me over Damien’s shoulder. “The old king waits beneath the hollow.” There it was. The phrase from the bar. Only now it had weight. Shape. A direction. Beneath the hollow. Beneath the mountain. Beneath Frost Ridge. My heart pounded. “Who is the Hollow King?” Every rogue outside went still. The one inside smiled. Damien’s face darkened. “Do not answer that.”

“It’s ours now.” The figure laughed. It was wet, wrong. “Then come and take it.” They raised a hand. The ground shuddered. From the shadows of the ravine, things moved. Not men. Not entirely. Their skin was pale, stretched tight over bone. Their eyes were empty, but they moved with purpose. Hollowborn. The Court’s foot soldiers. “Get ready,” Elena said. The first Hollowborn came fast. Elena met it with her blade, cutting through sinew and bone in one clean arc. It fell, but two more took its place.

The nursery was silent now, save for the ragged breathing of our family. The scorched mark on the floor pulsed with a dying violet light, a rhythmic reminder that the "Hollowed" was merely a scout. The veil hadn't just thinned; it had torn. Kaelen shifted back into his human form, his skin glistening with the sweat of a failed kill. He looked at his hands, frustration etched into the hard lines of his face. He had killed gods and kings, but you cannot bite smoke.