Svend Claytone was the second son of a blacksmith in their small village called Winford, Osgar Claytone with his loving wife, Blythe, and their children, Dudley, Svend, and Jolene Claytone, their life in the village was simple but happy. Winford may be small, but the ones who lived there felt the warmth of each other, each person in their village was joyous and satisfied with their way of living, they were cheerful and peaceful.
One of many families who lived in the village of Winford was the family of Claytone, their family was normal, they were delightful for what they have, and for the blessings that came to their family everyday, their family lived in a humble house that they call home, everyday was like any other normal day.
Osgar was on his smithy, forging an armor, that they will later sell to another village, Blythe was cooking a lunch for their family with some to give to other neighbors, Dudley was training his swordsmanship for his dream was to become a knight, after his training he then plays his other instrument, a flute, while Jolene and her friends listen to the calm music of the flute. On the other hand Svend was busy assisting his father in forging, his dream was simple, to be a blacksmith like his father, with a normal and happy family in the future, their lives were nothing grand, they lived peacefully and just the way they wanted.
But peace doesn't last long.
As Svend comes home while waving at his family, he was from the mountain, he found woods for their fireplace and for his father's blacksmithing, but as he was slowly nearing at their home, the faces of his family shifted, it was a horror for Svend, as he takes another step his older brother's face melted, and his mother withered, their home and other houses in their village were also burning in fire, some were already destroyed.
As Svend looks at the people he knew, his skin turns cold. His throat tightened until he couldn't swallow. His body, frozen at the sight of them. The village chief's face slumped, as his jaw dissolved into a sagging, gelatinous mass, disorienting his voice, which didn't come out.
"Help us, Svend. Help us!" said the village baker, his skin bubbling like his own bread. "No, no, no, it's not real, it's just a dream" Svend said in terror, but as he bolted. He burst through the door of the house they once called their home, their home was burning, the flames devoured the roof, traveling from one beam of the house to another, destroying anything from its path. The warmth was gone, only the echoes of those that died on it, echoes that filled Svend head, "Help us!!", "No!!, make it stop! It hurts!". "It hurts!".
As he looks at a familiar voice, he sees a tall figure, armoured from head to toe, wearing a violent eyes of full terror and destruction wherever it landed, at the hands of the figure, was a choking Jolene, looking at him, while begging his brother to save them, "help us Svend, you need to help us, you need to survive and avenge us", "No!!" Svend screams from the top of his lungs, as the armoured man notices him, it quickly charges towards him and takes its cold hand and drives it directly on Svends head, ready to kill him.
But the moment his hand touches Svend's head, he wakes up, gasping for air, panting with his breath, his body full of sweat. He was trembling, from the horror of his horrible nightmare, his eyes full of terrors that remembers. He was right, it was a dream, a nightmare, but it was also real, he was the only one who survived the slaughter that day.
Svend was sitting in front of the fire he made minutes ago, his whole body shaking, "what was that again? What did I see? What did I dream about? I forgot, it's a blurry vision, I don't remember what I dream" Svend said to himself, knowing what he just forgot was something important, something he was mourning, yet, he forgets it, due to the curse that was left on him by The Hollow Knight. The one who takes the warmth he previously had. His heart was beating loudly for the nightmare he had seen was groundbreaking and shocking, a nightmare he did not even remember.
The dream makes Svend skin Shivers, his teeth shaking, grinding to each other, his nose sniffing from crying in his nightmare. His eyes scouting the surroundings, "is this real? Or am I still asleep?" Svend asks himself.
Even though there's a fire in front of him, he can feel his cold body. "It wasn't just a dream," he thinks, "it was a dream that I once lived.".A dream he slowly forgets, becoming nothing, not even a memory.
Although he doesn't remember some of it, he was scared to lose any of his memory, for he was the only one who remembers it, he was the only one who witnessed it. The memory of the precious people he knew, the memory of the people he once called a family.
Svend then clutched a plain, blackened iron ring on his ring necklace, it's a wedding ring that is worn by his father, Osgar Claytone, this thing was the only thing he scavenged and found in the rubble of their house. The ring may look ordinary to the eyes of others but it carries an extraordinary weight. For Svend this ring was an anchor that provided him with his memory.
Svend bites on the ring whenever he feels like he has forgotten something important, he bites it so hard that it leaves a scorch mark on the wedding ring, till his teeth bleed out. It made his jaw ache, but it helps him fight the curse temporarily, as he bites down the ring, the sharp, metallic taste of the iron and the biting cold of the metal against his teeth snap him out of the curse's daze.
The physical pain grounds him. As he grips the ring, he forces himself to recite the rhythm of his father's hammer, "Clang. Clang. Pause. Clang." That rhythm acts as a bridge, pulling the memory of his father's face back from the fog. For a short period of time, he remembers them again, the face of his father, the smell of the cooking of his mother, the jokes of his brother Dudley, and the laughter of his younger sister, Jolene.
The moment Svend sight a relief, as his mind clearing out the impurity of the curse, a sudden rattling sound of branches and leaves, someone's coming towards his direction, he waits to find out who it was, as it was nearing him, Svend clutched his sword, the first sword he made with the help of his father's teaching. Then someone finally came out of the forest, it was a bald blind old man, holding a pointy stick in his left hand, wearing a loose white wool fabric t-shirt and pants, its face suddenly turning towards where Svend was sitting.
Suddenly the old man hit him on his back with its pointy stick, "what are you staring at? Did you forget who I am?" The old man says to Svend. His voice sounded like grinding stones, heavy and uneven.
Svend was crouching in pain, thinking this is the first time he had ever seen this old man, does he know me?
The old man shakes his head with disappointment on his face, "it seems like that damn curse of yours has taken over your mind again while I'm gone" Svend looks in confusion and asks "do I know you? How do you know about the curse?"
The old man hit him again with his stick, but this time he was hit on his head, "use that damn head of yours, is your head just for decoration?" "I am your master, Master Kaelen, I'm a monk" "we've been traveling north for the past two weeks, to find out if there's a way to remove that curse, given to you with the power of dark arts." "And I've been helping you to regain your memories, and your humanity."
"Now you know who I am, now serve me my food, don't just stand and stare there, bring it to me, I'm hungry."
Svend quickly served the food to his master. As master, Kaelen answered more of Svend's questions throughout the night.