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The Vessel must not think. That was the first thing it was told upon leaving the Abyss, its birthplace. That was why the Pale King, the Father, had chosen it. It was hollow, with empty eyes devoid of emotion and will. Its siblings, hundreds born and discarded in a never ending attempt to find the perfectly hollow one, had a spark of will in their eyes. Fear made them cower and instinct made them beg to survive as they were cast back down into the Abyss, their shells cracking on impact with a noise that the Vessel could still hear sometimes. The darkness inside of them, the Void, would leak out and create shadows, ghosts, shades that whispered things that made the Vessel tremble as it climbed.
Climbed like its siblings had. So many of them had slipped, tumbled, had displayed weakness, vulnerability in that final stretch that had deemed them as flawed and cast away without second thought to the bug that claimed to be Father.
It had climbed like its life was on the line, maybe it was, but it wasn't aware of that just yet. All it knew was that the light above was calling for them, and they felt no choice but to climb through the darkness, ignoring the bodies that fell from above. They just focused on putting their feet in front of the other, of getting to the top and escaping from the dark.
Something deep inside it wanted to fall, wanted the dark to take it back into the egg and keep it inside the safety of darkness and Void for just a few moments longer. Even if it was just a minute more. It was tired of climbing, tired of seeing its siblings cry before apruptly cutting off with a sickening crack, a symphony of darkness, light, screams and death ringing in the Vessel's head as each flawed child was cast aside, and the next one was cast off the edge of the cliff.
The Vessel had not been deemed as such. It had been looked over with eyes that looked as if they had not seen sleep in days. Then those eyes lit up.
"You." He said, and it knew him as its father, sire, creator, designer, ruler, "You are the Vessel."
The purpose imposed upon it granted it no joy, no delight, no comfort, and just made it feel empty, blank, and hollow. Perhaps that was the intention.
It decided to just bow its head, and the King seemed to have that be enough as he wordlessly motioned for the Vessel to follow him, a simple order to abandon the climb towards the light, to abandon its home, its birthplace, and the insistent calling of the dark.
And follow it did. It couldn't disobey an order. One step, two steps, three steps, until the sound of darkness calling it once more made it falter and look back, a singular moment of feeling as it turned away from the light and into the dark.
Hanging there, was one of its siblings. A Ghost of everything that they were about to leave behind. Ghost just stared at them, the darkness within their shell ringing out, asking to be saved, pleading to be brought up to the ledge, to feel its feet on the ground and to be granted just a moment of aid. The Vessel wanted to step towards Ghost, to pull them onto the ledge and grant them life for just a few moments longer, but it couldn't want. It couldn't have will to break, mind to think, thoughts to corrupt.
After all, it was the Hollow One, and to want was to have thoughts, and to have thoughts would mean that it wasn't truly Hollow and if it wasn't truly Hollow than the purpose granted to it would be worth nothing. It knew what it should do, but it contrasted with what it was expected to do.
It couldn't move, as it just stared and stared, feeling like eternity was dragging out between them.
Three words rang out between them, and those three words could've broken any other normal bug. But the Vessel couldn't be swayed by the temptation of loyalty and family.
Save me, sibling
It wants to reach out, it wants to pull its sibling onto the ledge, to pull them towards safety and into the light alongside it. It feels, no, no it cannot feel, it cannot respond to the cries of its little sibling almost begging to be saved, no matter how much it wants to.
But it cannot want either. It cannot break. That is what makes it chosen.
It falters, and that was its first mistake of many. Falters and almost steps back.
Please, do not forsake me, do not leave me here to fall and crack.
It needs to respond, to explain, to tell them that this is what it needs to do, what it was chosen to do but the conflict of its purpose and its loyalties lay heavy in its chest, pulling it both towards and away from the light that, for a single moment, gleams orange.
It turns its back on its siblings, on its birthplace and walks into the light. It feels like a traitor for just a moment before blissful apathy reminds it of its purpose, leaving its kin, its siblings and family to rot away in the Abyss, away from the light.
No cost too great, its father had said to it, guiding it further and further into the light, further and further away from the dark where its siblings were sealed away with the brand of a King's crown. No mind to think, its father had clarified, leading it past greenery and bugs that whispered fear and hope between them. No will to break, its father had spoken, leading it through the gates of a blinding white castle, a palace that signified a new start, a new beginning for the Vessel. The bugs within the palace walls wore white, a startling contrast to the darker colours that the Vessel found itself draped in.
No voice to cry suffering. Silence, but not forced, it had no voice, no ability to cry, no ability to cry out in pain or joy or distress. All the flaws and strengths that came with the emotions of bugs were erased from the Vessel, a completely blank slate, coated in Void and shell.
Born of God and Void. The product of a deal between a God-like bug, a Wrym, the giver of sentience. He, who could tame their savage souls and he who the challenge met, base instincts redeemed and the Void, the bringer of darkness, an old God that the bugs from beyond Hallownest's time worshipped along with the blinding light that threatened the Kingdom.
"You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams." The Pale King finished, sitting down on a bench that overlooked a large garden filled with bugs draped in white and laughing about something that the Vessel couldn't quite hear. Something in the Pale one's voice filled the Vessel with a feeling that it couldn't quite decline.
Was it pride? Or something similar? Perhaps it was affection?
Or desire.
Desire for its father to see it as something more than a Hollow Being, to see it as his child, his creation, something to be proud of and to love. Perhaps it was wrong, to feel such want, it definitely was wrong to desire something so badly.
It wasn't sure when the emotion started showing up. It remembered being empty, hollow, listening with perfect apathy to the Pale King's teachings, what it was expected to do and how its sacrifice was for the greater good for the bugs of Hallownest. Bugs that, apart from those living within the palace, the Vessel would never get to meet.
It wished it could sometimes. It saw maps, paintings, beautiful pictures of the lush greenery and tall, majestic buildings, of the wonderful scale of colours and creatures that the Pale King had delivered sentience in return of their utter devotion. It saw the pictures and wished that it could see the grass for itself, look upon the crystals itself.
It knew it couldn't though, so there was really no point in wishing. Yet, it did.
Regardless, it wasn't sure when its emotions started peaking through the cracks of its shell, of perfectly guarded darkness that held perfect disinterest and indifference. Maybe it when the Pale King smiled at it, praising it on learning so quickly, telling it how it would make the perfect vessel. Maybe it was when the Pale King showed it off to the palace guards, singing its praises.
Maybe it was when he almost called the Vessel 'son', a slight slip up, one that was easily caught but one that the Vessel heard anyways. One that the Pale King pretended was never said, never implied, but had rooted its way deep inside the Vessel's head, like a parasite that just wouldn't let go of this idea.
It tried to hide it, to pretend that it couldn't think. It couldn't speak already, no voice to cry suffering, so it figured it couldn't be that hard, yet it took everything in its power to not clap its hands with excitement when it was praised, or to follow the Pale King around like it was begging for just a little more attention. Just a little more time with father before it was cast away in the temple forever.
When the day came, for the Infection to be sealed away, the Vessel could almost hear its heart shattering. The Pale King, for all his talk of not caring for the vessels, and insisting that they be treated as neutrally as possible, was whispering reassurances into the Vessel's mind, as the chains wrapped around its chest.
It wanted to cry, to call out for its father, who was already leaving, watching the bugs do a final check of the chains before staring back at the Vessel with a look of uncertainty and hope. The Vessel tried to not show anything in return, it had to stay neutral.
No mind to think. No will to break.
But it wanted to try out for its father, to beg him to come back, to take it down and stay with it just a moment longer. It wanted its father, wanted the touch of his hand on its shoulder, the calm, pleased voice that praised it whenever it did something right, the loving glances he gave it that taught it what love was.
It wanted the childhood it briefly got to come back again. Installed was the idea of love and family inside its mind and it knew it wasn't the Pure Vessel its father wanted it to be. It felt disgusted at that, at failing, at not being able to do what it was created for.
But, after all, who could blame a child for loving its father?