Hornet Hollow Knight Novels & Stories

And Kellen — Kael’s son, my enemy-turned-ally — knew more than he should. “You talk like you know her,” I said. His gaze flickered. “Maybe I did.” Before I could press, a horn split the night. Long. Low. Echoing through the camp like a death knell. The Hollowfangs howled in response. Kellen’s mouth tightened. “They’re calling the hunters.”

She could not fail. The Hollowborn surged again, more ferocious, with their leader, a massive figure wreathed in black flames emerged like a grotesque mockery of a wolf, eyes glowing silver, teeth elongated and jagged. Raven felt the Hollow Blade within her stir violently, its whispers turning sharp, insistent, demanding. She could taste the power, feel it gnawing at her very soul, as it promised total dominance, and annihilation.

The blade gleamed with silver threads, and two more knights crumbled, eyes glazing as dream-silk tendrils wrapped around their armor. The remaining riders rallied, lances leveled. Steel rang as they charged, hooves churning earth. Vera backed toward the boulder, chanting again, channels of starlight snaking outward. One rider’s steed reared, sprayed snow, then collapsed in sudden collapse; the next knight yanked at his own helm, swaying. Three mounted knights remained. They wheeled, cutting her off from the gate. Vera licked her lips, breath ragged. She pressed the fang to her palm, closing her eyes and summoning the memory of Ember Hollow’s awakening:

What came through wasn't human. It had been, once. You could tell by the general shape and the way it moved on two legs. But everything else was weird. Its skin had turned gray and leathery, its fingers elongated into claws, and its face stretched into something with too many teeth. A Hollow. Class D anomaly that fed on fear. The crowd started cheering. The Hunter raised his sword. The Hollow circled him, making a clicking sound they made when they were hunting. I'd heard it before during deployments. It usually meant you were about to be attacked.

The air in the chamber didn't just chill; it died. The figure standing in the corner was a grotesque mockery of life. Ronan’s body, which Zayden had broken with his bare hands, stood upright, but his limbs moved with a disjointed, mechanical twitching. The void-black eyes leaked a dark, viscous smoke that pooled at his feet. This wasn't a werewolf. This was the Hollow—an ancient, forbidden rite of the Virex line used only when a challenger refused to stay dead.

Kael didn't look pleased, but he nodded. Moments later we were climbing the northern battlements. The storm hit us immediately, freezing wind and blinding snow, and the fortress stretched below with thousands of wolves preparing for battle. Archers lined the walls, warriors gathered in the courtyard, the entire pack stood ready. Then I saw them. My breath caught. The Hollow Kings. Five figures stood beyond the gates, only five, and somehow that was worse, far worse. They wore black armor that seemed forged from darkness itself, silver crowns resting upon their heads, their faces appearing almost human, almost. Their eyes glowed with pale moonlight, ancient, merciless, immortal.

The eastern horn blew twice, a low, hollow blast that echoed up the stone throat of the valley. I stood on the high battlements of Thorneheart, Kian’s dark fur mantle wrapped tight against the howling wind. Below, the narrow trail carving through the snowdrifts was empty, save for a single rider coming up the steep incline at a breakneck pace. No banners fluttered behind him. No vanguard rode at his flank. He rode a plain bay gelding, the horse’s flanks lathered with white foam, its hooves kicking up chunks of black ice as it pushed past the lower outer gate.

No, it couldn’t be… The large beast flapped its serpentine wings above her head as it came in for a landing. It’s scales took on the color of honey, shining like mirrors in the sun, and it landed with the grace of a blue heron, as it’s onyx talons clacked against the concrete patio. Madchen gasped as the beast shook it’s shiny scales, and sitting atop its head were two beautiful black horns. Ruby eyes blinked in the morning mist, eyes that looked vaguely familiar to her.

Or at least he’d be there to help her clean up her own blood. Slate must’ve finished his directions to the massive man who must’ve also been a dragon shifter at one time, before the Heart of Magic had been stolen from them. The rest of the crowd backed up, and Gator took a defensive stance. Since she hadn’t been listening to Slate when he was talking to the other dragon, she didn’t know for sure what was about to happen, until she utilized her mind’s eye and realized she was meant to attack this gigantic warrior.

suggested Maria, not shocked to hear a fast reply from Mai, followed by a shy response from Julian. Elsewhere in the cave, Akihito sat on top of a boulder, bored eyes watching Richard battle against a {Knight: Iron Horn Beetle}. Watching as his friend summoned forth a thousand beautiful red rose petals, the black-haired boy briefly closed his eyes and let out a yawn. Only to open them to the sight of a defeated Iron Horn Beetle, and Richard once again reverted to his gloom-like state.