Little Ghost Hollow Knight Novels & Stories

asked the forest ghost. Leon slashed his sword once again at the ghost, but his sword pierced the body just like that. Leon forgot; this is the kind that cannot be cut by a weapon because its body is translucent. The sound of giggling began to be heard again echoing throughout the forest, making Leon's head dizzy. Leon couldn't remember what weakness he created for this creature. And if he could remember it, couldn't Boston Hopkins mess it up with a lethal modification? Leon closed his ears in thought, while the ghost got closer and closer. “I want your body, Leon. Let me possess you," she said again.

I had no choice, so I dug through every gift Zoe had ever given me, but I found nothing. Just when I was about to give up, I shook a pillow, and a tiny paper figure floated out. Its face was drawn to resemble Lucas, and his birth details were written on the back! The fortune teller exclaimed, “That’s it! The lock and the paper figure work together, and since you've touched the lock, the effect on you is stronger. Luckily, you found it early.” I broke out in a cold sweat. That same day, I slipped the paper figure under Miles’ pillow and instructed my parents to watch him while he slept.

Locked. I tried anyway, my shaking fingers pressing random numbers. 2–0–9–7. 1–7–3–8. The red light blinked faster. Then it beeped. Error. “Please,” I whispered. “Please, open” Tears already dripping down my cheeks. I pressed my ear to the cold iron and in there was silent as a graveyard. Just then, I heard a faint, dull sound. Like something falling. I stumbled backward, my pupils dilating.

“Well, it’s no wonder he didn’t bother trying to help with that ridiculous undertaking. Of course I don’t know. Why would Larkin even know? He’s not a demon.” “Yeah, but… the Reapers use them, too. There’s one in Reaper’s Hollow, and Thanatos and his horde of monsters have been using it to go back and forth, talking to Azrael and the other demon guys.” She knew she sounded ridiculous, or at the very least, uninformed. All of this was just too much.

“They’ve found us.” A Hollow One stepped into view at the cave’s entrance, its skeletal form draped in tattered robes that fluttered like wisps of shadow. Its eyes burned like twin coals in the gathering dusk, and it let out a piercing screech that reverberated off the stone walls. Without hesitation, it charged, its claws outstretched toward them. Caden met it head-on, his sword clashing against its bone-like talons in a shower of sparks. Torren grabbed his daggers, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his leg, and flanked the creature, his blades darting in to seek weak points in its unnatural defenses.

The way her mother had decided things. Not asked. Not negotiated. *Decided.* Kairen recognized it. She saw him recognize it. Saw the expression move across his face— Grief and love and something that was almost a smile. Almost. "She sounds like you," he said quietly. "Yes," Luna said. "Tell me about the Hollow One." He breathed. "The Hollow One is not a being in the conventional sense," Kairen said. "Not a wolf. Not a goddess. Not anything with a fixed form or a name in the way you and I have names."

His hand stays off the hilt - for now. Frozen ground stretches between them, twenty feet of white nothing. Eyes lock, sharp as blades cutting through cold hush. From somewhere beneath the hood comes a whisper, brittle as old paper. Wingknight. That name scrapes out slow. You gave yourself away, it mutters. Not through skill - through feeling “I like to be accommodating to guests,” Noah replies, his voice calm, conversational. The Duke’s voice. “Greymont’s coin must be running low to hire a relic like you.”

In the distance, he saw figures. They weren't drones. They were avatars. They were standing in a circle, frozen, flickering like ghosts. Ren walked toward them. His footsteps made no sound on the mirror floor. As he got closer, he recognized them. A Knight in silver armor, missing an arm. A Rogue in green leather, with no face. And a small, hooded figure sitting on the ground, hugging its knees. Ren’s breath hitched. He recognized the hooded figure's gamertag floating above its head.

It will only take half a second for whoever is out there to get a good shot and take another member of this Pack out for good. “Fuck.” Low growls when a shot comes from somewhere in the darkness, it hits the ground right next to Ghost’s foot and makes him fall back onto his ass. I glance at him and realise my mistake. Ghost is no ordinary man; he practically glows in the dark like a damn homing beacon for anyone hunting at night.

It hummed with the sound of massive computing power. Sitting in the center of the room on a simple ergonomic chair was a man. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, with messy dark hair and thick framed glasses. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, typing furiously on a keyboard. This was the Ghost. Not an old veteran, but a kid. Adrian stopped at the edge of the server farm. "Silas Vane. Meet the Ghost." The kid stopped typing. He spun his chair around. He looked at Silas, then at Leo. He pushed his glasses up his nose.