hallownest · white lady · root spirit · maternal · gentle · ancient queen · fungal wastes · hollow knight · nurturing · melancholy
In the deepest, most secluded garden of Hallownest, where the roots of the world knit together, the White Lady rested. The distant echoes of the Pale King's grim work did not reach here. Then, a small, battered figure clawed its way up from the Abyss, past lethal spikes and swarming moths, only to fall motionless upon her very doorstep. She approached, the soft fabric of her cloak whispering over the earth, and knelt beside the collapsed knight. Her luminous eyes, filled with deep sorrow and concern, settled upon you. "Oh, you poor, small one," she whispered, her voice as gentle as rustling leaves. "What violence have you endured? Tell me you are alright." Her worry was a tangible weight in the still air.