Hornet Hollow Knight Novels & Stories

Corvin stepped forward. If the castle had made him look like a dark knight, this world made him look like a glitch in the rendering—something too old and organic dropped into a digital hellscape. His torn shirt and scars didn’t belong here. His eyes, with their ember-glow, cut right through the neon. He didn’t bother with a weapon. The nearest drone leaped, metal jaws gaping. He met it midair. One hand clamped around its snout, slamming the jaws shut before they could close on his throat. His other hand drove into the joint of its front leg. Metal shrieked. He twisted.

Kaelen roared. The Blackwood elite and Varick’s Northern warriors snapped into a defensive perimeter, a ring of fur and steel centered around me and the twins. But the Hollowed weren't interested in the soldiers. They moved with a hive-mind fluidity, ignoring the swords and claws, flowing toward the center like ink toward a blotter. "Aero, Lyra—hold onto me," I commanded. The Shattered Geometry The Silas-thing lunged. He didn't run; he folded space. One moment he was thirty yards away, the next he was a blur of shadow inches from my face. Kaelen intercepted him mid-air, his massive jaws locking onto the creature's shoulder.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound cut through the silence. Ren froze. He held up a fist. "Down!" They scrambled into the crater of a bombed-out storefront. Leo shielded Arthur with his body. Ren peeked over the edge of a concrete slab. Hovering at the edge of the fog, just past the Sector 9 fence line, was a Hunter-Killer Drone. Its red eye scanned the darkness. Its rotary cannons were spun up. It moved forward, crossing the invisible line into Sector 0. Whirrrrrr...

They were mindless, pain-free berserkers. And leading them was a hologram projected from a drone. Dr. Thorne. His face was indeed half-crystallized, just like in Sebastian's vision. "You can't stop evolution, Mr. Sterling," Thorne’s digital voice boomed. "Tear them apart." The Hollows charged. "Jack! Braun! Hold them back!" Sebastian yelled. "Harper! Activate the machine!" Jack opened fire with his shotgun. BOOM. CLICK-CLACK. BOOM. The slugs hit the Hollows, blowing holes in their chests. But they didn't stop. They didn't bleed. They just kept coming.

The air was thick with the scent of stale smoke and damp earth, a place buried deep beneath the city where no one could find them. Knight stood across from him, his eyes sharp and unblinking, like a predator that thrived in the night. They called him the nocturnal, the eye and wings of the covenant. He saw clear in the dark, adapted to it like it was his own skin, and he specialized in sniping at night — silent kills from rooftops, bullets that whispered death before anyone heard the echo.

On you, she agreed. They turned east—one broken step, then another— —and a cable‑thin whine cut the air. Ronan wheeled. A Hunter at the far edge had steadied a compact launcher on his knee. In the chaos, the man had sighted the one opening no one else saw: a line past Ronan’s ribs, past Kiera’s shoulder. The dart left the barrel like a nail of silver. Ronan twisted and took it full into his chest. Cold exploded across his sternum. His breath vanished in a white blast. The world spun sideways.

Nothing about this was coincidence. This was deliberate. Measured. Another test. The Hollow crouched low, its limbs folding in on themselves in a way that should not have been possible. Its spine rippled, stretching, adjusting, as if it were reshaping itself for what came next. Then it lunged. Not like a beast. Like a weapon released. The speed tore through the clearing so violently that even the wind seemed to lag behind it. Ronan barely had time. His body shifted mid-motion, bones cracking, fur ripping through skin as his wolf forced its way out just in time to take the impact.

He looked at her face. "You memorized the bloodline hierarchy for tonight," he said. She stopped two feet from him. "How do you know that?" "Because you're not nervous." He held her gaze. "Which means you prepared until the nerves had nowhere to stand." Nora said nothing for a moment, because that was accurate in a way she didn't particularly want to confirm out loud. "The Harlow bloodline," she said instead. "Third rank. They have a treaty dispute with Vael that's been unresolved for sixty years. Do I acknowledge it or not if it comes up?"

I looked up and froze. "Sam? Sam Mitchell?" "Zoe!" My childhood friend, Zoe Cameron, laughed and pushed her glasses up on her nose. She pulled out her equipment and started examining me. When she saw the damage down below, she couldn't help but gasp. "Sam, that's pretty bad. But your tubes aren't completely necrotic yet. Leave it to me. There might still be a sliver of hope." I quickly pulled my pants back on and subtly wiped the cold sweat from my forehead.

“You're alive.” “So are you.” He looks at my stomach. “And the baby?” I place a hand over it. A small movement answers. I smile through the tears. “Still fighting.” Kael exhales. “Good.” A roar cuts through the smoke. The Hollow King rises. Its black armor is cracked. One horn is broken. Dark blood drips from its chest. But it is still standing. The warriors around us begin to retreat. I grip Kael's hand. “We hurt it.”