Hollow Knight Painting Novels & Stories

~Vaela My hands drag over the craggy cave walls as I struggle my way into the part of the cave Hale retreats to when he wants to paint. Sure enough, a brush is in his hand, as he crouches down, working on a particularly detailed aspect at the bottom of the painting. It's a night sky. It hurts to look at, knowing I haven't seen one in quite a few weeks. I seat my hands in my pockets. "I've made a decision."

I once thought that this was love, but I've finally understood that it's a bone deep familial bond! Hilda pulled him into the crowd where a group of veterans were showcasing their artistic talents. Since this was Zis' solo exhibition, many veterans who seldom made public appearances attended to exchange ideas with each other. At this time, a painter was wielding a brush as he did a color painting of a humongous yellow dog with its tongue hanging out. The painting was vivid and lifelike since it was done by an expert. Now, it was on the verge of completion with just the finishing touches left. The name of the painting was Lucky, and the dog in the painting was none other than Linux' Lucky!

Each swing of their swords passed through the air with eerie precision, and though they looked solid, their movements had weightlessness of ghosts. Damian roared as one struck him across the shoulder. He retaliated with a dagger, but it passed through the knight as though through mist. “What the—?” He snarled, staggering back. “Damian!” Laura shouted. He turned toward her, his face bloodied, his eyes wide with relief and confusion. “Laura?” Hope clung to her, the crystal glowing brightly at the sight of him. Then Laura froze, the faces of the knights were hollowed, ethereal and trapped between worlds. They weren’t living men at all.

The client asked for several paintings this time, each worth millions of dollars. Grandma was in an unusually good mood, smiling as she led Holly and the client into the dark, unlit room. I excused myself to wait outside, but in reality, I followed Holly's plan and circled around to the window of that room. Squatting beneath the window, I leaned against the wall and waited for Holly's signal. This was my first time being so close to this eerie ritual. I heard Grandma murmuring something under her breath, followed by a chilling voice that said, "Granted."

When he caught a glimpse of the first part of the painting, his eyes widened and he paused to look at Ruby knowingly. “Is this it?” He asked curiously and Ruby nodded knowingly, confusing Chloe. Blake increased his pace in ripping off the paper. “F*ck! He exclaimed as he pushed his hand forward to have a clear view of the painting. Chloe’s eyes widened as she saw the painting. It turned out that it was the full painting Blake had requested at the Knightley.& Monthly Auction. “I–it was me all along?” Chloe mumbled surprised. It turned out that the painting was of Blake and Chloe staring up at the sun in the middle of a football field.

The remembrance of everything put my mind into a frenzy. In the middle of the Canvas, I finished painting his details. The dark shadows blended with his fair skin as good as in real life. As I moved on to painting King Micheal, the first and foremost thing that crept into my mind was the picture of him in the white shirt and a detailed overview of his tattoo. My hand moved on its own and I found myself finishing his painting with the details of the tattoo inked into his skin. Soon the colors got laid on the paper for king Archer's painting, his thick eyebrows, his beautiful eyes framed by the long lashes, his sharp jaw, and his pointed nose. The light shadows blended with the background I pa

I stayed at the cemetery all night. … I got home the next day around noon. The swing in the yard had been cut down and replaced with an easel. The pond my daughter loved had been filled in. The red goldfish she raised were now stuffed specimens for Pete's paintings. When she saw me frozen in the yard, Jody's face flushed with guilt. She grabbed my hand.

The lines started to become more polished as the intelligence of the beasts increased until they became beautiful and majestic. The one that stuck out the most for David was the painting of a skeleton. It had 12 blood-red wings coming from its back, two pairs of horns grew on its head, and a red heart was glowing on its chest. It was pointing at the sky, and its flaming eyes looked upwards. Surrounding him were kneeling figures, some were tall, others were short, some were alive, some were ghosts. But all of them respectfully bowed to the existence that the skeleton was signaling. Skeletor looked with interest at the painting and tried to touch it with his bony fingers, but a hand stopped hi

I was somewhere else. A battlefield. Blood soaked the earth. Bodies lay scattered, warriors with torn banners clutched in lifeless hands. The sky above swirled with black clouds, lightning flashing in jagged streaks. At the center of it all stood a man. Tall. Dressed in dark armor, his face obscured by a crown of jagged bone. The Hollow King. His eyes burned like molten gold, the same way the Revenant’s had. He lifted a blade—the same dagger Rael had just taken.