The Wyrm sat on the floor, embraced by his root and his child.
Tears kept flowing as the gravity of the situation finally sank in. Everything he had done to stop the Infection-the Vessel, the bindings, the seal, the Dreamers-had been in vain.
His foresight had made that perfectly clear. No matter how many repairs or improvements he made, the plan would still fail.
But none of it had happened yet.
That was the only thing that could still be called good news.
At last, the Pale King moved. He turned to look at his proudest creation, the Vessel now proven imperfect, his child, the Hollow Knight.
Its exterior remained white, its heart still hollow, yet the black tears dripping from the corners of its eyes proved that it still had feelings.
A child's feelings for its father.
The Wyrm drew the Hollow Knight into his arms. His child, his root-when they were both beside him, the black and white tears finally dried.
The trembling finally stopped. The White Lady ultimately chose to forgive her husband, and to forgive herself as well. The Hollow Knight no longer wept in fear.
As for the Wyrm, he took a deep breath, reached out to cup one side of his child's face, and spoke with a solemnity he had never shown before.
"My child, my knight, you are too kind. What I put into you was never worth such consideration, and yet you... I truly am a fool."
The White Lady, the largest of the three beings, began moving her roots.
Her roots reached out and shifted beside them. Feeling their presence, she said softly, "Perhaps we should all forgive ourselves."
Another vine lifted the Pure Vessel's mask, bringing its gaze level with hers.
"Child, at least I no longer have to bear