Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waves of magic break apart and reform all around her. The monochrome abyss stretches out in either direction, forming an endless loop that ensnares an entire ecosystem and its inhabitants. The white and black fade from one to another with such ease that it is difficult for the fragile mind to remember that these two colors— if they can be called as such— are different, set on each pole of the color wheel’s inverted axis. Only sparks of genuine color can be found, swallowed whole by the emptiness, but briefly presenting the memories of a bygone age better left in the cracks of history and legend than brought to the forefront of the mind.

Asgore stares out, eyes dark and somber. His velvet purple cloak pulls gently, snagging on the formless wind that seems to swirl in tandem with the loop. His arms are left at his sides, hands placed in weak fists, one motion away from a peaceful open palm or a tightened grip meant for violence. He turns slightly, not quite looking at her but getting close enough that she is able to look upon him without any obscurities. He wears his ancient age like armor, but the darkness lingering around him like a weighted sadness is not so easily dispersed.

Asgore opens his mouths, words held there instead of airing into the openness around them. Without having uttered a sound, he turns away from her. He moves into the emptiness as if there is some destination within this infinity of primordial magic. She follows after him, steps slow and eyes darting around for a difference in where they are going from where they have been. No differences present themselves in the way the white and black ebb all around them, but soon, color breaks through the shallowness of the emptiness. Asgore stops, but she keeps going, one step, then another, and then she finally stops, standing in front of the empty pillar. She reaches her hand up, placing it against the glass. It warms underneath her touch, and she sees her reflection staring back at her as she moves her hand to the side.

There are seven of these pillars, all lined up in a row. There is a gap, separating three of the containers from the other four. The side with four has a green SOUL, a yellow SOUL, an orange SOUL, and the empty container meant for her. The other side has a purple SOUL, a dark blue SOUL, and a cyan SOUL. They radiate light around them, and wisps of magic filter out of the black lids screwed tightly onto each container. She shuffles back a step, no longer able to see her reflection in the empty container, as she tries looking at each one simultaneously.

Asgore finally begins talking, but she is no longer listening. She instead reaches her hand out. She touches the container next to the empty one. As her hand warms the glass, the orange light of the SOUL falls upon her. She blinks, and her vision blurs. When it refocuses, she finds herself standing in a part of Snowdin she had never gone to. The snow is stained red with blood, and a body is facedown in the murky puddle of melted snow and blood. An orange SOUL glows right above the body, and someone takes it, leaving behind an odd apparition leaning over the body. The ghost looks over its shoulder at her, and she finds that it has a face of darkness, only broken apart by two orange pricks where the eyes should be.

She stumbles back, jerking away from the odd vision to return to the barrier. She immediately places her hand on the next container, and the yellow light whisks her away to a place she is completely unfamiliar with. The only recognizable part is the body on the ground being held by a monster that resembles a star. A fox monster holds the yellow SOUL in her paws, staring at it intently. Another apparition is standing near the body, made from the whirling blackness but with yellow dots in its face like stars breaking through the night sky.

Asgore continues to talk, but she is reaching for each container to witness what she assumes are the deaths of those who fell before she did. Each scene is accompanied by a ghost that looks at her as if she is intruding upon their memories. Most of them remain motionless, but the last vision, the cyan SOUL, has the apparition following her out of the vision. They stand in the barrier, staring down intently at her. They are shorter than she is, but there is a thick aura around them that supersedes any claims to power she might have. They look between her and Asgore, and a voice seems to pour out of their lips like a slow-moving fog covering the city at dawn. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

The light seeping out of the other containers start to condense, transforming into the dark-aligned ghosts with their given SOUL color replacing their eyes. They look like humans stripped of all substance, shadowy silhouettes without structure or detail. They reach out to her, all of them speaking at once. She grabs onto the sides of her head, falling to her knees. Asgore’s concerned tone fades as the rest of the voices merge into one continuous mass, begging and pleading and yelling and wishing for salvation, for their own angel to save them, for someone to give consequences and to be a vessel for their HATE.

All of their hands wrap around her red SOUL, and even the brilliant color is dulled by the cracks of black that spread across its illusory face. The hands squeeze and squeeze, nearly shattering her heart and killing her. When she fears they may actually destroy her, each hand jerks away from the heart as if they were burned by it. But they do not flee from her. They surrounded her, almost like they’re protecting her from Asgore, almost like they’re waiting for an outcome.

She tears at her face, trying to find herself in the thoughts that rip right through her. Flashes of the hundreds of deaths she’s experienced in the Underground present themselves in the forefront of her mind. Callous words and prejudiced looks act like gasoline to these nasty flames that make her feel as if she cannot breathe. Worst of all, more memories pour into her, deaths that aren’t her own and sacrifices she’s never made becoming meaningless and promises she never uttered never coming true. An undercurrent of agony, of HATE, sweeps her away in its trenches. The HATE cusps her SOUL in its hands, and tightens its hands until the beautiful red light, the stars in the cosmos, the blood in her veins, the very heart that beats in her chest, is no more.

She stumbles to her feet. Her hands fall to her sides. Her head remains lowered, staring at the unstable ground beneath her. She reaches her hand up, and a command flickers into visibility. RESET is lit up in bright orange, glowing unnaturally in the barrier. The SOULs of the damned stand around her, behind her, like an audience, like an orchestra, like the driving force behind her newly black sclera and glowing red irises. Asgore’s eyes widen, and he reaches a paw out to stop her. He is not able to do anything as she slams down her hand against the RESET button.

*You are filled with SPITE

Chapter Text

Warm sunlight descends from the crack in the cavernous roof. It floods the hollow rocky tower. Directly underneath the natural spotlight, a bed of Golden Flowers blossoms, so close together that the green grass can only be seen around the edges of the main cluster. Beyond the grass, the lightless ground is made from light gray stone, a thin layer of dust lying across the rock. Deep in the darkness, the entrance to a wider world can be faintly perceived, if only because it is blacker than its surroundings.

In the cluster of flowers, a teenager lies half-consciously, staring up at the morning sun that seems to peer into the core of a mountain it will never know. She lies there for a long moment, face plain with apathy and something shriller than simple boredom. She reaches her hand upwards, trying to grasp the fading warmth. Her fingers easily pull at the threads of light, unable to grasp what has no form. It reminds her of magic, but there is nothing special about the condescension of the sunlight.

“Frisk, what are we doing back here?” A voice calls out. A figure leans over Frisk’s body. Their body is translucent, allowing some of the sunlight to slide right through them. They cast no shadow on the ground, but a few appear across their face to give the impression of darkness across their face. They frown subtly, looking around Frisk’s body for the answer. “What happened at the Barrier? Didn’t you escape?”

Frisk does not answer Chara. In one smooth motion, she rises to her feet. She keeps her face turned toward the sun, letting the warmth flood across her cold cheeks. The longer she stands in the yellow bath, the more she realizes that she might be incapable of capturing that heat for herself. A burdensome chill races through her spine, clawing at her innards with the ferocity of a starving beast. The temperature continues to drop as Frisk feels an unusual weight slide across her collarbone. She moves her hand from capturing the sunlight to touching the weight, and she feels the shadows curling around her fingertips. A voice whispers right in her ear, “Are you ready?”

Frisk tilts her head toward the entrance to the cavern. She notices the cyan circular eyes of her newest companion shining through a mask of darkness. The only other part of the ghost with color is the cyan ribbon pulling back what resembles hair but is not made from the same substance. The HATE eidolon of the cyan SOUL removes their arms from Frisk’s shoulders, taking a step back to stand in front of her. The cyan eidolon continues to say, “We’ll only go when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Frisk whispers, her voice echoing with many others as if a chorus was singing from the depths of her throat.

“Ready for what?” Chara asks, floating hesitantly around Frisk. She reaches her hands forward, almost touching Frisk but remaining a few inches away for reasons Frisk doesn’t understand. Nor does she truly care about what those reasons could be.

Frisk steps past Chara. The cyan eidolon giggles as they watch Frisk kick the edge of a stick. The wooden appendage flies up into the air, and Frisk catches it. She twists the stick in her hands, and a red light ripples across the debarked surface. Chara reaches a hand out, trying to grab Frisk’s shoulders. Her hand slides right through, and Frisk doesn’t even look back as she presses onward on her journey.

“Happy birthday, dearest,” A woman whispers, kneeling down behind her daughter. She moves her arms around her daughter’s body. She holds a present up at the daughter’s chest. The daughter’s face splits with a bright smile as she grabs onto the present. She pulls at the ribbon, letting it fall to the ground. She unfolds the wrapping carefully like her mother taught her. When she pulls the box out of the wrapping, her mother catches the paper before it can fall to the ground. A beautiful wooden doll with ball joints rests in the cushioning of the box, face perpetually trapped in serenity.

“I love it!” She gasps happily. She drops the box as she lifts the doll out of the box. She pulls the doll against her chest, squeezing so tightly that she is worried the fragile toy will shatter beneath the intensity.

“Hey, don’t forget my present,” Her father chuckles as he comes to stand near his wife and daughter. He leans down onto one of his knees, pulling out a crudely wrapped present from his back pocket. She sets the doll back into the box as she grabs the present her father has given her. Without caring for the paper, she tears it apart. When she pulls the lid off the box, she finds a toy knife made from painted wood. Her eyes widen as she grabs onto the hilt of the fake weapon, holding it up. The smile on her face rivals the one she wore when she received the toy doll.

“Silvanus,” The woman warns. She picks up the wrapping paper and the boxes on the ground, lifting them as she stands up.

“What?” The man asks innocently, eyes sparkling with rebellion.

“I love it,” She cries. She rushes forward, crashing into her father’s chest. He wraps his arms around her, setting his chin on her shoulder. When she pulls back, she gives her father a wide smile. “Thank you, Papa. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Diana,” Her father says, putting his hand on her cheek. He leans forward, and they press their foreheads together.

“What are you doing?!” Chara screams, reaching forward for the dust blowing away in a strange unnatural wind. She grasps some of it, but all this serves to do is stain her hands gray. The monster that was slain is gone, scattering across the ruins.

Frisk doesn’t say anything. She keeps moving forward, stepping over some of the dust that has collected into a pile on the stone ground. Cyan dances, the shadows flaring out like the skirt of a dress. They snap back when she stops, leaning forward to speak to Frisk. “That was lovely. You chose the perfect moment to strike!”

Frisk ignores Cyan, too, as she glances around for her next target. Chara floats in front of Frisk, arms spread wide as if she could stop Frisk from moving. All Frisk has to do is keep moving, and she effortlessly passes through Chara’s body. The ghost hisses at the feeling, looking over their shoulder at Frisk’s retreating form with a mix of emotions on their face.

Cyan stands around the edge of the path, spreading their shadowy hand across the ruined surfaces. Frisk can hear the wicked smile in their voice as they begin speaking, “Do you know why humans are the top species? It is because of our PATIENCE. We are able to wait for our prey to come to us. We waste no energy while the helpless rabbits and deers of the world waste all of their energy fleeing. Humans are excellent hunters, and my dear Red, you are shaping up to be one of the best.”

Cyan moves to stand in front of Frisk, but they move backwards to guarantee that Frisk doesn’t pass through them. They tuck both of their arms behind their back. “I’ll teach you how to be the best monster hunter.”

“It’s cold,” She complains, putting her hands up to her face to breathe warm air against her pale fingers. She pulls her hands away, rubbing them together in an attempt to create enough friction to chase away the winter weather.

“Just a little longer, yeah?” Silvanus murmurs, looking out of the stand. He holds a spirit weapon in the shape of a hunting rifle in his hands, aiming the muzzle out of the window. He scans the white and brown forest all around them, searching for other spots of color in the waxing light.

“You said that an hour ago,” She remarks, slumping down from her position. Her eyes swing upwards, looking at the sky between the interlocking branches of the nearby trees. The sky is mostly dark, dusted with starlight and sprinkled with the velvety purple of early morning. She has been out here since even before dawn, and she is growing weary.

“Be patient, love,” Silvanus reminds her. He pulls one hand away from his gun to touch her head. He smooths out her hair, and she glances over at him. Silvanus wears a half-smile on his face as he puts his hand back on the trigger. “This is the key to hunting. You must remain vigilant. You must wait for the prey to come to you. But most of all, you must be ready to strike when it does appear, swift and uncompromising. You’ve spent so long waiting, after all. You can’t let it run away from you.”

All of a sudden, the gun goes off. She startles, eyes swiveling around to the forest floor. The corpse of a rabbit with fur as white as the snow around it lies near the base of a tree. Blood slides out of the creature around it, staining the niveous purity. Silvanus pulls away, removing his finger from the trigger. His spirit weapon disappears in a flurry of PATIENCE mana particles. He shifts his body, giving his full attention to his daughter. “Remember: vigilance, patience, action. The three tenants of hunting.”

“We have to go after it,” Cyan hisses, watching Froggit hop away, parts of its disintegrating body already reforming as it flees.

“Leave it be,” Chara warns, desperation evident in her tone.

Frisk shifts her body, moving her arm backwards. The stick in her hand begins to glow a red color like hot iron. Frisk throws the stick forward like a javelin. It strikes through Froggit’s body. The monster makes a sad croaking noise as it collapses into a pile of dust. Frisk marches over to retrieve the stick from the ground. As Frisk leans down to pick it up, she hears Cyan’s voice. “I didn’t know you could do that. It seems we chose the perfect vessel for our HATE.”

“Why won’t you just give up? It isn’t too late,” Chara asks, grabbing onto Frisk’s wrist as she stands up with her stick. Frisk yanks her wrist through Chara’s ghostly hand. She turns, preparing herself for the next fight.

“Look at you,” Her mother whispers, standing at the door frame. The woman steps into the room, her dress swishing around her like the flowing fabric is part of her. The woman reaches her hands out, cupping her daughter’s face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mama,” She says respectfully, giving her mother a pleasant smile.

“You are only missing one thing,” Venus notes. She pulls away from her daughter, reaching into the vanity beside the two of them. She leans down to pull open the bottom drawer. She pulls something out of the drawer, pushes it back into the vanity. When she stands back up, she holds an embroidered ribbon in her hands. Venus reaches her hands out, pulling her daughter’s hair back. Venus uses the ribbon to tie Diana’s hair back, removing the one curtain that could hide her daughter’s beauty.

“It looks lovely,” Diana notes, reaching a hand up to set it on top of the hands her mother placed on her shoulder. Diana looks over her shoulder to smile up at her mother.

“Like a doll,” Venus notes, leaning forward to kiss her daughter’s forehead.

“Stay still. I’ll help you,” Cyan says, putting their hands on Frisk’s shoulders. Frisk’s red SOUL suddenly turns the same cyan color as the eidolon’s eyes. Napstablook’s tears suddenly pass through Frisk’s cyan heart without dealing any damage to Frisk. “Wait for your chance, and…”

Napstablook runs out of tears. Frisk’s heart returns to its normal red color, and she shoots forward. She strikes her stick forward, but it passes through Napstablook’s body. The ghost-monster stares at Frisk with hollow sadness, and suddenly, they disappear without turning to dust. Frisk twists the stick in their fingertips, a sudden flash of anger burning inside of them. It is only washed away by Cyan putting a hand on Frisk’s shoulder. “Easy, Frisk.”

“Do you see how pointless all of this is, now?” Chara demands, remaining several feet away from Frisk. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and she floats a few inches off the ground. She turns her head away, letting darkness fall over her expression. Only the grim line her lips are set in is visible to Frisk as she looks at her former companion that continues to fight for Frisk to regain some sensibility.

“It is not pointless. It will only take some time, but we have more than enough of that, do we not, Frisk?” Cyan argues even though Chara is incapable of seeing Cyan. Frisk is the only one who can hear, but she doesn’t have the brainpower to agree or disagree. She only stands back up, pushing Cyan off her unintentionally. Cyan makes a humming noise as she watches Frisk pressing onward, deeper into the ruins and the Underground.

“Don’t tell me you brought that toy with you.” Venus complains, dropping her forehead into her palm.

“Papa said to always be prepared,” Diana argues, holding the wooden knife to her chest. The paint is beginning to peel and the ‘blade’ is covered in knicks, but she continues to carry around the toy. Not only is there a practical application of the toy, but it carries memories of her time with her father. She feels happier with it on her no matter where she goes, hunting with her father or festive balls with her mother.

“Why would you need that toy here?” Venus asks, using her hand to gesture around them. The darkness of the courtyard clashes with the golden light pouring out of the mansion’s many windows, creating a sort of twilight where many guests are engaging in private conversations, including a mother and her daughter.

“You never know. Vigilance, patience, action. I have vigilance and PATIENCE. I need this for action,” Diana explains. She lowers the toy down, staring at the way the half-light slides across the shiny surface.

“Yes, I am well-aware of your father’s motto,” Venus breathes out harshly from her nose, nostrils flaring. She shakes her head. She reaches a hand toward her daughter. “Very well. You may keep the toy so long as no one sees it.”

Diana grins. She returns the knife to the pocket in her skirt. She takes her mother’s hand, and they walk back into the ballroom.

Frisk leans down, examining the object with fascination. She reaches out, picking up the hilt. The object is worn, faded, but it remains sturdy as she closes her fingers around the hilt. She hears Cyan intake a sharp breath. Cyan steps forward, leaning down to touch the object in Frisk’s hand. “My old toy knife. Papa gave it to me.”

Cyan draws their hand away as if the blade were real and had cut them. Cyan looks away from the knife, staring out at the ruins in the distance. Cyan is quiet for a long moment before whispering, “You can have it. I have no use for it now.”

Frisk replaces her stick for the toy knife. She holds it firmly in her hands. When she turns around, Chara is standing there with a pensive face. “Why are you doing this? What’s the point?”

Frisk says nothing, unaware of what the answer is to either question. She cannot even find the source of anger and hatred, only that it exists somewhere deep inside of her.

Diana holds her breath as the deer leaps into view. It noses the ground, searching for something to eat. She aims the gun at the creature. She releases her breath at the same time she pulls the trigger. The sound spooks the deer. It jolts forward, and the bullet tears through the back of the creature. Its movement became more sporadic as it felt the pain, barrelling forward and leaving a trail of blood. Diana releases a quick sigh as she jumps to her feet. Her boots crunch the ice as she follows the red trail through the forest.

Diana is so focused on the deer that she misses a rock jutting out of the stone, the gray color merging with the monotony of the snow. She stumbles, and suddenly, she’s careening downwards. The gun slides out of her grip as she continues rolling. She grapples for the snow to slow her down, but she isn’t able to stop herself from landing next to a hole in the ground. She stares in the darkness as she puts her hands down on the thin layer of snow melting underneath her body heat. The melting snow is slick, and she hits the ground again. This time, she hits it with enough force that the rocks at the edges of the gap crumbles. Diana releases a terrified scream as she drops into the awaiting arms of the darkness below.

She lands in a cluster of Golden Flower, the winter sunlight falling across her scraped body. She releases a heavy breath, sitting up immediately. She looks up, wondering if she could scale the rock face to return to the surface. As Diana reaches a hand up, she hears a voice call out behind her. “Oh, dear, are you okay? That was quite the nasty fall you took there. Can I help you?”

A figure steps out of the darkness, and Diana’s eyes widen as she discovers that the fairytales her father told her were true.

“Are you seeing my memories?” Cyan asks, sitting on the bed as Frisk wakes up. Cyan has her knees pressed up to her chest. She stares across the room, avoiding the way Chara is glaring at Frisk on the other side of the room. “I heard some thaumaturges can do that. It’s one of the Basic Magics, isn’t it? SOUL reading… I learned about it in class a long time ago.”

Frisk sits up, pushing the blanket off of her. She stands up beside the bed, startling Chara. Cyan doesn’t move, though their cyan eyes follow Frisk. “You’re right. We don’t have time for a past I can never have again or idle chit-chat about thaumaturgy neither of us will use.”

“Frisk,” Chara calls out, pushing off the wall. She comes to stand in front of Frisk, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you need to stop it. RESET.”

“Doesn’t she know? It’s too late to go back,” Cyan murmurs, standing up. She places a hand on the toy knife left on the dresser beside the bed. “We should get back to the hunt.”

Diana hides in the depths of the ruins. Her stomach rumbles angrily, demanding food that she won’t give it. Her throat burns from dehydration, and her vision is swimming with black spots and general blurriness. Nausea ransacks her entire form, leaving her a shivering mess, but she has nothing to spare.

She leans down, lying on the ground. She feels like she’s floating, hovering between one state and another. She weakly reaches her hand out, waiting for her mother to catch it. She can almost smell the floral scent of her mother’s perfume. She can feel her mother’s meticulous fingers brushing through her hair. She can hear her mother’s soft singing, the words in a language Diana does not know. It warms her shivering body in a way that not even the brightest fires could.

She feels her father hugging her from behind, tucking his head on top of her head. She can hear him humming a working song to himself as he carves at the kitchen table. She can see him smiling at her in the corner of her eye as she completes her first hunt. The weight of his pride paradoxically makes her feel like she’s flying.

Tears slide down her eyes as a final breath escapes her chest. Her SOUL threads together in front of her body, floating and spinning in slow circles. As her body returns to the earth, someone finds her. They take her SOUL and gracefully bury her body. They don’t even notice the toy knife lying on the ground or the ribbon that flies out of her hair.

“Why?” Chara whispers tearfully, hunched over the disintegrating form of Toriel. The former queen does not know that her adopted daughter is there to witness this, her sad eyes aimed only at Frisk’s merciless expression. Toriel fully disappears. The ruins are deathly silent, the only sound being Chara’s muted sobbing.

Frisk walks passed Chara and the dust pile. Before she can continue, however, Chara grabs onto her hand with more solidity than a ghost should possess. Chara glares up at Frisk. The impact of her anger is lessened by the teary eyes, but even if Chara was entirely made from anger, Frisk is far too gone to actually care about that. She only stares down as Chara pulls Frisk’s arm to give herself enough leverage to stand up. “What the hell is wrong with you?! She didn’t do anything to you! She treated you like her child, and you- you- you fucker!”

Chara grabs onto Frisk’s shoulders, getting in Frisk’s face. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, damnit!”

Frisk tilts her head to the side in annoyance, but she opens her eyes completely. Chara startles back, releasing Frisk’s shoulders as she stumbles back. “What the hell…?”

The sclera of Frisk’s eyes are completely black. Her irises are glowing the same color as red spider lilies. Frisk’s grip tightens around the toy knife, her fingertips stained with the shadows covering Cyan’s body. Frisk bears no expression as Chara’s face tightens with anger. She takes one more step back, and then she’s gone.

“Congratulations, red, you’ve hunted all of your prey in the ruins. I wish you luck as you continue,” Cyan says. They step backwards, pushing the door to Snowdin open. As they step into the snow, they disappear. Frisk doesn’t pay attention to her newfound loneliness as she steps into the snow.

*You are filled with TOLERANCE

Chapter Text

Heat floods her entire body as she steps into Snowdin. The snow banks underneath her boots begin to melt, creating murky puddles that soak through the leather. Thankfully, the heat evaporates the water fairly quickly, making the only discomfort in her body the unbearably high temperature coursing through her while the rest of Snowdin is flooded with freezing temperatures. She looks down at her hands, noticing the warm flush that has spread to the tips of her fingers. She tightens her grip around the toy knife, looking upward.

Orange stands in front of her. Their silhouette is different from Cyan, but it is only a mass of shadows broken apart by two orange dots like twin lighthouses on distant shores. Orange moves from foot to foot, unable to keep still as it floats across the upper layer of the snow. The shadows seem to flicker like flames as Orange reaches Frisk’s side, accompanying her in the place of Chara and Cyan. “Let’s do this, Red! There won’t be a monster here that will take us down.”

Frisk takes a step forward, her footprints leaving puddles in the snow. Orange darts all around her like an energized child, staying within her field of vision but far from her side. Frisk pays no mind to Orange’s actions. She continues forward without a glance away from her chosen path until she’s standing on a wooden bridge. She feels the prickle of attention on her back. When she turns around, a figure stands behind her. Frisk stares at the monster as he offers his hand, calling himself her friend. Orange comes to sit on the wooden beam above the bridge, staring down at the monster and Frisk.

Sans waits for Frisk to shake his hand, but she only stares apathetically at him. Orange snickers from where he sits. Sans lowers his hand slowly, the eyeholes in his skeletal face narrowing in an almost human-like way. “heh. what’s up, kid? too cool to greet an old friend?”

Frisk turns away from Sans. She continues down the path, and expectedly, Sans is now in front of her. He is leaning against a tree, staring at her with an expression similar to interest but with none of the light-heartedness. “what’s wrong with your eyes, kid? your good pal knows a thing or two about eyes, and that isn’t what they should look like.”

Frisk continues forward, silent as the falling snow melts underneath her feet. Sans continues to take his shortcuts, his words a mix between comedy and concern. Orange makes a few cruel jokes, leaning around Sans’ form with the assurance that the monster cannot see nor hear him. Frisk has this luxury, but she finds nothing funny about the way either of them speak. She only knows that she has to kill the monsters in Snowdin. Her mission is the one thought lingering in her mind, consuming everything else.

“The brave knight defeated the mighty dragon,” His sister reads, turning the page in their storybook. The new image on the page reveals the knight carrying the princess out of the dragon’s lair. His sister continues reading the words off the top of the page, “The brave knight found the beautiful princess. He picked her up and whisked her away to her palace. As a reward for saving the beautiful princess, the wise king told the brave knight that he could marry the princess and rule over the kingdom one day.”

His sister turns the page one more time, revealing the knight riding on a noble steed with the sunset framing his silhouette. He leans closer, putting his arms in her lap to get a better view of the illustration. “The brave knight told the wise king that he did not desire the princess. He only desired more adventures to go on. The wise king heard this, and he granted the brave knight’s wish. He gave the brave knight his most precious horse from the royal stables. The brave knight accepted the horse, riding off into the sunset in search of more people to save and monsters to slay.”

His sister closes the storybook. She presses it against her lap. She raises a hand up around his shoulders to push some of the dark hair out of his face. He looks up at her and she smiles at him. “Is the brave knight ready to go to sleep?”

“One more time, please,” He asks, trying his best to give his sister a pleading expression.

She chuckles. She slides out of the bed, helping him lie across the pillows. She leans down to kiss his forehead. When she rises back up, she sets the book down on the nightstand beside his bed. She twists the wind-up on the gas lamp, letting darkness fall into the room. She pulls the blanket up to his chin as she murmurs, “I will read it to you again tomorrow.”

“You promise?” He whispers, grabbing onto his stuffed dragon. He holds it close to his chest, tucking it underneath his chin.

“I promise,” She tells him. She steps away from the bed, heading towards the open door on the other side of the door. Quietly, she steps into the dimly lit hallway. She closes the door behind her, and her shadow disappears from underneath the door. Moonlight floods into the room without the competition of manmade light. He closes his eyes, squeezing his plushie tighter.

Frisk steps away from the floating, golden star that lingers on the ground in random places. Usually, Chara would inform Frisk that her ‘file’ has been ‘saved.’ This time, there is no voice to do that for Frisk. All she has is the feeling in her chest that should she die, she would end up here.

Frisk walks across the cleared path, the snow shoveled to the sides. There is a wooden box with a red lid hiding underneath the evergreen trees. She squats down in front of the box. There is a sign next to the box, but Frisk doesn’t read it as she unhooks the golden latch. She opens the dimensional box, looking down at the various items left inside the wood. There is only one item in this box. Frisk pulls out a pair of dull brownish-yellow leather gloves. Frisk holds them against her chest.

“Oh… Those are mine,” Orange says, peering over Frisk’s shoulder. For a moment, they are completely still. They stand up straighter, shaking their head. “Put them on. They’re tough enough to handle whatever attack you dish out.”

Orange walks away. Frisk hums to herself as she shoves the toy knife into her inventory. She pulls the gloves onto her hands. She flexes her fingers, testing the material. When the gloves conform to her hands, Frisk stands up. She keeps her hands in the form of fists as she marches through Snowdin.

“Look, I brought you something,” His father says, the scent of alcohol swirling around him as he enters the room. His sister wrinkles her nose in disgust, but their father doesn’t notice her reaction. His father instead drops a plastic bag onto the coffee table next to him. The man takes a step back, slumping into his chair as he watches his son expectantly, putting the brown rim of his glass bottle against his lips for another sip.

He pulls his hands away from where his sister is bandaging his bloody knuckles. He unties the plastic bag, peeking inside before he pulls anything out. Unexpectedly, there is a gift inside the gray-white plastic. He pulls out a pair of leather gloves in the color of a sunrise, somewhere between pink and orange. His father makes a noise to attract his attention. His father is pointing his bottle at leather gloves. “Those should help you not get injured as much.”

“You shouldn’t encourage this behavior,” His sister remarks, looking over her shoulder at their father. She reaches her hands out to take the gloves, but he’s already putting them on over the bandages. He flexes his fingers, feeling a surge of excitement bubble in his stomach.

“I’m not encouraging this, but we both know he isn’t going to listen to a word we say. We might as well make sure he isn’t going to injure himself every damn time,” His father says, leaning against the back of his chair. He sets his glass bottle down beside his chair. He closes his eyes, probably going to sleep for the afternoon until his match in the ring later tonight. Before he does sleep, however, he calls out, “And I’m not the one you should be reprimanding. You read him that stupid knight book every night when he has a kid. If anyone put the spirit of heroics into him, it was you.”

She tries scowling, but it turns into a drawn-out sigh. He puts his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “Don’t worry! I’m only fighting the bad guys!”

She doesn’t look reassured, but she places her hand on top of his with a nice smile.

“I can’t stand this!” Orange impatiently yells as Frisk is forced to stay still yet another time from Doggo’s attacks. They pass through Frisk’s SOUL without causing any damage. “Hit him, dammit! He’s nothing more than a bully trying to push you around, and there’s only one way to deal with bullies.”

Doggo’s attacks momentarily stop coming. Frisk feels the heat inside of her centralize to one point. Her red SOUL glimmers orange as she launches herself forward. Sparks pop off her skin as she launches her fist into Dogg’s torso. With as much strength and mana as she put into the hit, her fist goes through Doggo’s chest. The dog monster’s suspicious expression disappears, eyes widening as it realizes it has been slain. Frisk doesn’t move as Doggo disintegrates, so the monster doesn’t even know who has attacked it as it turns into dust.

Frisk stands up straight. Orange throws an arm around her shoulders. He taps one hand against her chest with a cheerful tone in his voice. “You did it, Red! Come on, there are still more bullies to finish off.”

He plays with a couple of rocks in the grass, stacking them on top of each other and knocking them right back down. His sister stands a few feet behind him, leaning against the back of the building. She blows smoke out of her lips, holding the cigarette between two of her fingers.

All of a sudden, the back door slams open. She pushes off the wall, standing up straighter as she turns toward the open door. He turns around to see his father, but the man isn’t the one standing at the exit. He frowns as a couple of different men step out of the building, talking with each other. His sister notices their father isn’t among them, either, so she leans back against the wall.

“Well, well, look at this, guys,” One of the men says, gesturing towards his sister. The men in the group laugh among each other, and he hears a few of them call his sister rude names. He knocks over the current rock tower as he draws closer to protect his sister. Before he can get to her, one of the guys grabs onto him. He squirms in the man’s grip, but his attacks do little to stop the man from holding onto him.

His kicking and screaming is brought to a stop when he hears a loud, piercing noise. He stops moving, looking upward. The two guys near the front, closest to each other, are staring at one another. One of them, the original speaker, lifts a hand up to hit the other guy in the back of the head. “Hey, I told you to be careful with that thing!”

“Sorry, boss,” The other guy said, but he’s laughing. He shifts, showing off the gun in his hands.

“Whatever. This bitch was going to be a problem, anyway,” The boss says, shaking his head. He flicks his fingers, and the entourage moves out with him. The guy holding him drops him onto the ground, and he scrambles immediately for his sister.

She is sitting on the ground. There is a streak of red on the wall behind her that implies she slid downward to her current position. Her cigarette is abandoned on the ground beside her as she presses both of her hands against the wound in her abodemen. Tears rise in his eyes as he rushes over to his sister, “Audrey!”

Audrey looks up at him with a tight smile on her face. She reaches a hand upwards, placing a bloody handprint on his cheek. “Alex… Come here, okay?”

She taps the ground beside her. Alex numbly sits beside his sister. She wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close as she keeps one hand over the wound. With a bloody hand, she plays with his hair. Her voice is faint and pained as she whispers, “Once upon a time… there was a brave knight… who learned… learned a beautiful princess… was being… was captured by… a mighty dragon…”

Her voice grows so faint that Alex is unable to understand anything she’s saying. All he knows is that she presses a kiss against his forehead, whispering, “My brave knight.”

Her body slumps against him. His ear is against her chest, and he cannot hear her heart beating. He doesn’t feel her breath curling against his skin. The hand that was playing with his hair falls limply across his shoulder. The blood grows cold underneath him, soaking into his clothes. It almost feels like he’s the one letting his entire body bleed out.

The backdoor opens once again, and a laughing man steps outside. He looks around, eyes eventually landing on the siblings. His smile drops away immediately. He falls to his knees beside his son. His arms are barely open, but Alex throws himself against his father’s chest. He is crying like a little kid. Audrey’s body falls to the ground, more blood sliding across the bricks. The man holds his son, eyes staring at his daughter with detachment. All of a sudden, his grip tightens and his eyes begin glowing a muted yellow.

Frisk takes the pieces of the snowman, barely able to hold onto them without melting them in her clutch. Orange squats down beside the snowman, looking up at it. “You know, my sister and I used to make snowmen when the weather got cold. She hated doing it because I could never stay focused. She especially hated it when my SOUL trait manifested. Out of all the Specialized Magic I could develop, it just had to be pyrokinesis. But she still did it with me.”

Frisk hums in response, finishing picking apart the snowman. She starts walking away, ignoring the way Orange lingers at the snowman’s corpse. Frisk can hardly remember anything before her current mission, but she doesn’t think she’s ever made a snowman before… or maybe she did… once, a long time ago, with someone she doesn’t even remember the name of anymore.

Frisk shakes her head. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Sans and Papyrus are standing at the end of the path. They seem to be talking to each other, but Frisk neither hears their words nor does she care what they’re doing. They, like the puzzle on the ground she has to navigate, are only obstacles.

He stands at the foot of Mt. Ebott, staring up at the trees covered in snow. He looks down at his hands. He squeezes them, feeling the roughness of the leather scrap against his fragile skin. Without another word, he starts climbing up the mountain. The moonless night swathes everything in darkness, and the wind howls as dangerously as the wild animals searching for their next meal. Fear, however, is a distant memory for Alex as he trudges through the rapidly melting snow. The more he climbs, the worse his heated aura gets. He’s practically walking through a quiet stream rather than snow banks, and he can even hear the bubbling of boiling water as his marching grows more frantic.

This was his father’s last command to Alex before he was sent to prison. There was only one more person who was responsible for the death of Audrey, the only person his father missed. It was up to Alex to finish what his father started. Unfortunately, the final culprit had traveled to the neighboring nation. The fastest route to that nation was over Mt. Ebott, but no one took this path for multiple reasons. Some are reasonable, like the low temperatures or the predators, but others were far-fetched, like the idea that monsters lived inside the hollow mountain. Alex didn’t know what was true, but he had to find this last man, for his sister and his father. He had to be the brave knight that would slay the mighty dragon.

With all the water rushing around his legs and the speed he’s going, it is little surprise that Alex slips. He falls to the ground, his arms windmilling in an attempt to straighten himself. Unfortunately, he does something worse than simply fall to the ground. He falls into a hole, one covered by both snow and a few resilient plants. Alex tumbles through the air, landing in a bed of Golden Flowers. He sits up immediately, cursing his impatience.

Alex’s cursing falls silent when he notices something moving in the darkness. A figure steps out of the shadows. Alex’s eyes widen as he faces a creature he never thought he would be able to meet, a creature that has stepped right off the pages of his favorite storybook.

Frisk grabs Greater Dog’s spear, shoving it to the side as the monster tries to stab her. She lifts a leg up to kick Greater Dog’s armor. The metal makes a screeching noise, but Greater Dog doesn’t seem to be affected by what happened. Frisk grits her teeth. She steps away from Greater Dog, putting her fists up as the monster aims his spear at her once more. Frisk blows out a breath, moving her bangs out of her face.

“Come on, Red! You got this!” Orange calls out. Frisk’s glare turns to them. They shrug their shoulders. Frisk rolls her eyes, returning her attention to Greater Dog. She launches herself at Greater Dog again. The armor keeps her attacks from doing much damage, but she finally gives up on the punching tactic. She vaults over Greater Dog’s shoulder. She swings her leg around, pressing both her feet against his back. She wraps her arms around his throat. She pulls with all her might, trying to choke the monster with the tough gloves. Greater Dog swings around frantically, moving from side to side to knock her off. Frisk’s red pupils burn bright as she remains. Finally, Greater Dog falls to his knees. His spear drops to the ground beside him, disintegrating alongside his main form.

Frisk jumps onto the ground. She reaches a hand up to push her hair out of her way. She hisses when she touches the skin around her eyes. She rubs her fingers there, letting the pain reverberate through her head. Orange stands in front of her, gesturing down the melted water puddle at her feet. She looks down into it, noticing her appearance. Her black sclera is starting to spread out, creating cracks around her eyes. Frisk narrows her eyes at the new development.

“It’s a consequence of accepting the weight of our HATE,” Orange murmurs almost sympathetically. They meet Frisk’s eyes in the reflection. “You’re becoming just like us.”

Alex feels bad about leaving Toriel. She seems so lonely in the Ruins, after all. If Alex wasn’t carrying the weight of the last promise he made to his father, Alex would have stayed with her for a long time. As it stands, however, there is somewhere he needs to go, someone he needs to meet. But, he promises himself, when he’s done, he’ll come back to stay with Toriel. There isn’t anywhere he has to be, after all. His father is in prison, his sister is dead, and his mother left the moment he was born. He has no one except for Toriel, and he gets the sinking feeling that he might be the only one she has, too.

Alex pushes open the doors from the Ruins to the next location. Surprise colors his face as he steps into the snow banks. He didn’t know it could snow underground. Alex smiles faintly as the snow begins to melt underneath his shoes. He should really learn how to control his thaumaturgy. He might end up accidentally hurting someone at this rate, especially if he meets a monster who resembles snow or ice in appearance. He was with Toriel because she possessed fire magic, but Alex doubts he will be so lucky with his next few encounters.

Alex continues walking through the snow, looking around the evergreen trees growing all around him. He marvels at how all of this can happen underneath the mountain. There isn’t even an artificial sun down here to make all this happen. It must have come from some powerful magic, but who would have the power to do this? Could it be King Asgore, the monster Toriel warned Alex about?

Alex stops when he sees a town in the distance. A smile reaches across his face. Maybe one of them knows how to get out of the Underground without having to go through King Asgore.

“This place is empty,” Orange astutely observes, looking around at the empty houses and abandoned shops of Snowdin Town. They press their hands against the window of one shop in particular, peering inside at the interior. Frisk doesn’t pay attention to any of the buildings. Her attention zeroes in on a dimensional box. She walks over to it, switching out items and searching for goods left behind by other people.

“They must be terrified of you if they’ve even left behind their wares,” Orange notes, crossing their arms over their chest. They lean against one of the buildings, gesturing towards the door. “I remember they wanted me to pay a high fee just for entering their shop. Pissed me off, especially when they threw me out for being unable to pay. I hope their business goes bankrupt.”

Frisk stands up. She looks into the distance where the final stretch of her journey through Snowdin is. Orange creeps up beside her. “Here we are, Red. I know you’re ready, so push forward undefeated. Be the brave knight that defeats the mighty dragon.”

Frisk vaguely knows what Orange is talking about, but she frankly doesn’t care. She isn’t a brave knight. She’s only a vessel for HATE, a tool for revenge.

“Wait!” Alex yells. He tries to explain that he came here peacefully, but he is stopped by pain blossoming in his stomach. He looks down to find a spear hanging out of his body. He reaches a hand up to pull the spear out. The blood shines across the metal surface, dripping onto the snow underneath his feet.

The dog monster dressed up like a royal guard says very little as it takes the spear back from Alex. The human falls to the ground without the spear to help him remain balanced. He collapses onto the ground. He lands on his knees, choking on the blood pouring out of his gullet. He looks up at the monster for sympathy, but the dog grabs onto Alex’s SOUL without even watching the boy die. Alex hisses a curse, eyes narrowing at the dog. His SOUL is pulled completely from his body, and all of his BRAVERY is torn away from him. He feels genuine fear, cold and shrill, tear through his body as rapidly as the pain did. Alex’s tears fall into the snow. He completely collapses, eyes growing dull from death and a lack of mana.

The dog monster takes the SOUL with it to the royal palace. It is the shopkeeper that finds Alex’s corpse. They wear a mournful expression as they put Alex’s gloves in a dimensional box. They take the manly bandanna with them to sell and pass the body over to the royal palace to be put in a coffin, respectfully taken care of.

Frisk watches as Papyrus turns to dust. She stares down the dust lingering on the leather gloves. She feels the brush of guilt coat her SOUL, but the memories of Papyrus are fading away. It’s only for a moment that she remembers friendship, and laughter, and belonging. 

But those memories are gone the moment she realizes her hands are completely covered in shadows, and she estimates that she now looks like a raccoon with how painful the skin around her eyes are. The HATE is slowly consuming her, erasing every happy memory she once carried in her heart. All of them have been replaced with the memories of Papyrus killing her in the previous timeline.

Frisk stops on the dust pile as she walks by, heading for the next location. Orange salutes Frisk as she passes, then they are gone. Waterfall opens up in front of Frisk.

*You are filled with RASHNESS

Chapter Text

The air is consumed by thick humidity, and a gray mist permeates from the dark blue-purple stone that forms the ground. A similarly colored light falls across the swaying reeds, creating a half-illuminated space swathed in murky shadows. This light is only broken up by whitish blue stones embedded in the walls that resemble stars when the light falls across them. Even as the sound of water trickling echoes in the enclosed space, it would be easy for Frisk to fall into the illusion that she is standing at the depths of the unknowable ocean.

Blue waits for Frisk, standing in the shallows of the river that cuts through this entire section of the Underground. The water runs seamlessly through their ankles, and it is easy for their form to merge with the darkness all around them. Their silhouette is given substance by the tutu they wear, flaring out around where their waist should be. Their eyes, too, are as dark as the night, simmering with a navy color. They stare out impassively at Frisk, silent as a scarecrow in the fields. They step out of the river, tall and lithe like a youthful tree.

“You have chosen this path, yes?” Blue murmurs, their voice melding with the river as if they were part of it. They reach a hand out, cupping Frisk’s cheek. Their thumb swipes over the growing darkness that is beginning to overtake Frisk’s face. It stings so badly that Frisk hisses, but she is unable to pull away from Blue’s touch. It is only when Blue decides to step away that Frisk is given a moment of relief. “I see. It is too late to back down now. Stay true, Red, and finish what you have begun.”

Blue turns sharply on their heels. They start walking through the reeds, the rippling of their form making it difficult to stare at them for too long. Frisk nods solemnly, answering the question Blue posed to her. She follows behind the eidolon, navigating the dark and damp Waterfalls.

The street is flooded with people rushing from one direction to another in a hurry. No one pays much attention to her unless she’s in their way, and even then, they only give her a shove and continue on their way, muttering curses that conflate with every other sound echoing in the square. The snow falls on everyone indiscriminately, landing in their bags and on their shoulders, melting away into the dirty street beneath their feet.

One particularly shove sends her hurtling into the wall of one of the storefronts. She hisses in pain, grabbing onto her shoulder. Tears rise up in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. She sniffs once and wipes her eyes, and suddenly, the pain and the sadness are secondary to the experiences all around her. She focuses on the cold leaking through her plain, tearing jacket, and the creeping darkness that not even the street lamps and storefronts can completely fight against. The corners of shadows accept her, grabbing onto the heart beating pitifully inside her chest, but she refuses to return to them as if she was nothing more than a speck of dust in a city that beats down anyone without proper advantages.

She pushes off the wall with one hand. She looks upward, finding a golden light shining through one of the storefront windows. It falls across the strewn snow, and water seems to slide across the glass from condensation. She wipes some of the water droplets away, peering inside the store. A couple of pyramid-shaped platforms are displayed proudly, each one showcasing some of the many toys available for purchase this time of year. She watches all of them function with wide eyes, and her attention is eventually brought to an open box. A beautiful ballerina spins endlessly in front of a hand-painted illustration of a faraway palace.

She places both of her hands on the glass, her nose a mere inch away. She stares at the ballerina. The motion never changes, but something has completely grabbed her attention. Everything she has ever wanted spins inside a small box, probably no larger than her palm. The ballerina, too, is so tiny that she can be easily broken, but she continues to spin— to dance. Eternally, happily.

“Natalia! There you are!” A woman’s voice cuts through her reverie. She feels a rough hand grab onto her wrist. She is pulled away from the window and into the loving arms of her mother. The woman puts her chin on Natalia’s head, rubbing her back to calm herself down after losing her child in the crowds. When the woman pulls back, she wears an expression of concerned anger, torn between reprimanding her child and being grateful that she’s returned. In the end, she kisses her daughter’s cheek, whispering, “Thank goodness you’re safe. Stay with mom next time, okay?”

Frisk stands in a field of echo flowers. They glow a pale cyan, completely illuminating the space around them. As Frisk walks through them, they start to murmur secrets from the far past. Frisk doesn’t listen to any of them, but Blue is squatting in the middle of them. They gently lift the flowers up to their ears, listening to each secret as if it were a form of currency in this depressing world.

Frisk ignores the flowers and Blue as she comes to a telescope left near the middle of the cave. She leans down, pressing her eyes against the hole. She moves the telescope, finding the clue in the corner of the roof. Frisk stands up, following the directions. Blue watches her go, eyes somehow more prominent when the rest of them are silent and still.

Frisk walks through a dark door, stepping onto a jetty. Frisk ignores the panels embedded in the distant walls as she reaches a square panel at the end of the jetty. Frisk can see Blue hovering above the waters in the distance as Frisk takes one step onto the panel. Frisk is taken to the next section, and she thinks she hears laughter in the air. Even though Blue doesn’t have a face, Frisk can almost see the smirk Blue wears as a cyan spear launches right in front of Frisk, halting all of her moments.

Frisk takes a deep breath, turning around to follow the jetty. She ignores the warrior hiding between the pillars, only taking heed of the cyan spears that float in the air. They strike the ground, sending dark blue wood chips flying into the air. Frisk is stung by some of these, but she avoids each of the spears. Frisk could credit her own abilities, but she knows the truth. She feels the way her SOUL is consumed by magic momentarily, and Blue’s eyes seem to shine even brighter as Frisk stumbles forward or to the side without sending that command through her body. Blue is doing this, Frisk assesses, the same way Cyan and Orange were able to affect Frisk with their thaumaturgy.

Frisk stops when she ducks down into some reeds, hiding from both Undyne, the monster creating the spears, and Blue.

Natalia lifts her hands into the air, forming a near perfect circle. She raises up onto her toes, her pointe shoes bending at the pressure. She attempts to take a step forward, but she instinctively goes back onto her heels. She sighs inwardly, dropping her arms to her side. She takes a deep breath, putting her hands on her stomach to regulate her breathing. When she feels better, she makes the attempt again.

“Oh, you look so graceful!” Her mother gushes from the other side of the living room. She is sitting at the ironing board, using it as a desk for her tailoring. She is holding a jacket that costs more than their dirty apartment, using thread that cost half of their living expenses to mend a tear in the lapel. She sets the jacket and thread down in her lap, giving her daughter all of her attention.

“Thank you, Mom,” Natalia says, feeling her chest tighten as she practices in front of her mother. They spent quite a lot of money to get Natalia into dance classes. Even thrifting the outfits didn’t make the expenses lower in any practical way. If Natalia fails, it will be more than embarrassing; it would disappoint her mother and make their money usage a waste. Natalia looks down at her hands, tightening them into fists. She’s going to succeed as a ballerina. She’s going to be a famous one, someone who does shows every night and has so many adoring fans. She and her mother will move out of this glorified pigsty. Her mother will live lavishly, as she ought to for how much she’s done for Natalia the girl’s entire life.

Frisk pushes the reeds out of the way, hesitating when she sees a pair of worn shoes lying on the ground. Frisk squats down. She picks the ballet shoes up, holding one in each hand. They smell of the wet earth they had been lying in, and they don’t seem to have much more life expectancy in them. Regardless, they are imbued with certain magical properties that make them worth putting on.

“Let me help,” Blue says. They lean down beside Frisk, half-hidden by the reeds. With shadowy hands, they start tying the ribbons on the shoes. Frisk watches apathetically. When Blue is finished, the same magic that helped Frisk get through the jetty forces Frisk onto her feet. Blue taps a finger against Frisk’s chest. “Stick to the path you’ve chosen. There’s no sense turning back now.”

Blue steps out of the reeds, leading Frisk onward down the path that, as Blue puts it, Frisk has chosen. Distantly, Frisk wonders if she really did choose this path, but those thoughts are as fleeting and fragile as spooked butterflies. Choice doesn’t matter, not anymore. 

Blue stops when they see a statue of a hunched over monster. Frisk walks past the statue, searching for an umbrella in the next room. She covers the statue with the umbrella, and a song begins to play in the cavern. Blue starts performing a melancholic dance alongside the music. Frisk stares at them for a moment, but the words ring in her ears, reminding her that she needs to continue.

Mt. Ebott is known by many rumors, but there is only one that concerns her as she treks through the snow. There should be a flower on this mountain that can heal any sickness. Natalia doesn’t know if that rumor is true, but she doesn’t have many other options. The hospital fees are getting too expensive for her to handle, and it isn’t like the doctors are healing her mother. They are only prolonging her life, and while Natalia is grateful, her mother’s state doesn’t seem to be one anyone would wish for themselves. The woman needs a genuine cure, but no one has anything. Natalia doesn’t have anything except for blind faith in a handful of rumors that might lead to nowhere.

Natalia shivers as the wind grows sharper. She remembers more of the mountain’s rumors as a wolf howls in the distance. They say monsters live within this mountain. While most people say it like it’s a terrible story, Natalia finds herself wishing it were true. Monsters have their own kind of magic. If even KINDNESS can’t heal her mother, perhaps there is a monster with the necessary skills to do it. Natalia doesn’t know what she could offer a monster in exchange, but then again, she doesn’t even know what flower she’s looking for out here.

Because of the darkness of the night and the pure white of the snow, Natalia easily sees golden flowers growing in the distance. Her eyes widen as she takes in their purity. She runs over to them, ignoring the way the cold continues to bite into her skin like a thousand leeches. She drops down onto her knees in the flowers. She tears at them, trying to fill her arms with them. Her overzealous actions blind Natalia from the way the golden flowers start growing at odd angles, as if blooming on an incline. She reaches for them, and her knee slides in the snow-mud mixture. She holds the flowers against her chest as she tumbles into a gaping hole of darkness.

Fortunately, Natalia falls into a plot of the golden flowers. The ones in her arms slide away from her. She blinks in surprise, the fear inside her stomach slowly dwindling down into mild anxiety. She looks around the cavern she has fallen into. Her attention is drawn to someone standing at what appears to be a doorway.

Natalia doesn’t know if the golden flowers are the rumored all-healing flower, but she sees now that the rumor about monsters living in the mountain is not false.

Monster Kid talks incessantly at Frisk’s side. He is waxing poetry about his hero, Undyne, leaving no opportunity for Frisk to cut in. Not like she would, having no opinion about Undyne or Monster Kid other than the fact that they need to die like everyone else. Still, Frisk allows Monster Kid to ramble instead of killing him outright. She doesn’t understand why, having completely forgotten the friendship she once developed with Monster Kid in a previous timeline, but she decides that if anyone should be given a little longer to live, it should be Monster Kid.

This displeases Blue, but they make no comment about it as they follow behind Frisk and Monster Kid. They seem more withdrawn, and Frisk wonders if it has anything to do with the castle in the distance. Frisk’s own SOUL burns as she stares at the gray-stone spires and the blue tops. If Frisk stares at it too long, memories start to play on repeat inside her head, but she knows they aren’t her memories. She doesn’t have any of those anymore. The only memories in her mind are the memories of the other Fallen, the one who placed the weight of their HATE into her body.

Monster Kid’s spiel about Undyne comes to a rather abrupt end as they stand near a steep ledge. Frisk looks down at it. Blue’s magic seems to close around Frisk’s heart, but they don’t need to do anything. Monster Kid jumps with excitement, declaring that he’s doing to help Frisk, perhaps as a tribute to his hero. Frisk does as Monster Kid desires, and when they get to the bottom, Monster Kid tells Frisk that he will meet up with her later. Frisk doesn’t respond— she never has— but Monster Kid’s smile never wanes as he walks away unharmed.

“I hope you aren’t having any second thoughts,” Blue murmurs. They come to stand in front of Frisk, ironically blocking her from continuing. Frisk looks up at Blue with tired eyes. Blue shakes their head. “Get your act together! Do you think you can stop? Look at all the damage you’ve already done! Think of how many more monsters sat by and watched us die! We have to get revenge, Red. We have to finish what we started. Do you understand?”

Frisk nods, and Blue steps out of Frisk’s way.

Natalia explores the edges of the Ruins, searching for another way out. Toriel said there wasn’t one, but Natalia doesn’t have the time to believe that. She likes Toriel, she does, but her real mother is waiting for her on the Surface. If Natalia doesn’t get the flower to her… Natalia doesn’t want to think about it.

Natalia stops when she hears voices. She follows them closely, keeping her steps light and silent as she crosses through the darker section of the Ruins. She eventually stops when the voices seem to be right beside her. She sidles up to a half-broken building, the wall cut in half as if struck by a powerful blade. She peers around the side, keeping herself in the shadows. The source of the voices presents itself as two monsters sitting in the broken building. One of them resembles a fox, but Natalia doesn’t recognize what the other one is. They have purple skin and sharp teeth, two white horns sticking out of their dark hair. The fox is posing with her hands on her hips, and the other monster seems to be drawing her on scraps of paper. Natalia watches them for a long moment, wondering what they are doing as she listens to them laugh together.

Eventually, the fox monster turns her head. Her eyes meet Natalia’s, and they do not speak for a moment. It is long enough that the other monster notices that his friend is no longer paying attention to him. He turns, and Natalia quickly glances over at him to meet his eyes. He wears a curious expression on his face. He lifts a hand up, and that is enough to break the fox monster out of her stupor. She launches forward on nimble feet, tail swishing out from behind her. She leans down with one hand on her knees and the other reaching out towards Natalia. “Hello! My name is Kanako! This is my friend, Dalv. What’s your name?”

“Uh… Natalia,” The human whispers, setting her hand down in Kanako’s brown furred paw. Kanako pulls at Natalia’s hand, lifting her onto her feet in the dim light of the Ruins. Kanako wears a bright smile on her face. Dalv is smiling, too, as he walks over to join his friends. Kanako twists, tugging on Natalia’s hand once more to start leading her through the Ruins with Dalv at their side.

Frisk wades through piles of trash, pushing them out of her way as she travels along the sewer she found temporary refuge in. Despite her increasingly inhuman appearance, she still found herself requiring sleep. Blue told Frisk they would keep watch while Frisk slept. Frisk woke up on her own without any signs of danger presenting themselves, so she assumes that Blue did the job, but honestly, Frisk doesn’t know what Blue would have done if a monster had shown up.

Frisk presses a hand to her nose to block out the rough smell in the air, but she feels a rough stinging pain in her face. Frisk steps to a clear water source, moving her hand through the water to disrupt the mud. She stares down into her reflection. The HATE has spread over the bridge of her nose, and it is starting to travel into the roots of her hair. The darkness has fully spread up to her elbows on her hands. Frisk has the feeling that this isn’t natural, that this is wrong, but she doesn’t care all that much.

“Enemy approaching,” Blue calls out. Frisk looks over her shoulder. A dummy is approaching her. Frisk narrows her eyes, wondering why a monster would dare approach her knowing how much dust is covering her clothes. Frisk shakes her head. She doesn’t have time to worry about the mental state of a monster. She leaps into the air, landing a kick against the dummy’s head.

“I’m sorry, Natalia. I didn’t mean to say that… I just…” Dalv murmurs, his voice growing fainter as he realizes what kind of look has passed over Natalia’s face. She looks down at her hands. No, she refuses to believe him. There has to be a way to solve all of this. There must be a way to leave the Underground alive. There must be a way to save her mother. There must be a way to save everyone in the Underground without dying. Dalv is wrong. Toriel is wrong. Everyone in this whole place is plainly wrong.

“He’s right, Nat. My Papa—”

“No, he isn’t!” Natalia screams, whirling around. The blue of her eyes bursts with light. Dalv’s monster SOUL appears, instantly flashing from white to blue. He is flung away from Natalia, landing against the far wall. He cries out in pain, sliding down onto the ground. His SOUL returns to the usual white as Kanako rushes over to his side. Her anxious paws press against the dusting wounds on Dalv’s back.

Natalia’s eyes widen. She takes a half-step back, terror consuming all of her thoughts. That was thaumaturgy. That was human magic, an extension of her INTEGRITY SOUL. And she had just hurt her friend with it. Someone who was just trying to help her. 

“Nat, I’m—” Dalv calls out with a pained smile on his face. Natalia doesn’t hear the rest of his words as she runs away, scared that she’s going to hurt her new friends again.

“Yo! Yo. Undyne told me to stay away from you. She said you… You hurt a lot of people… But, yo, that’s not true, right!?” Monster Kid stutters through, words mixed with his anxiety.

Frisk doesn’t say a word. Surprisingly, Blue doesn’t make a comment, either. The two of them remain side-by-side underneath the intensity of Monster Kid’s gaze.

“Yo… why won’t you answer me? A… a… and what’s with that weird expression…? Oh… Oh man…” Monster Kid. He looks like he’s about to puke. He looks down at the ground, eyes searching for answers in the rock. Frisk wonders what kind of expression she’s wearing. How can anyone see her expression when her face is being consumed by HATE? Does a creature incapable of emotions like her even have expressions?

“Y-you’d b-better st-stop r-right where you are… Cause if you w-wanna hurt anyone else… you’re.. You’re gonna have to get through me, first. A… and… and…” Monster Kid claims, his form flickering with weak monster magic. Frisk tilts her head, waiting for Monster Kid to attack her first. There is no particular reason she waits. She already knows that she’s going to defeat him. He is a dead monster standing, yet he continues to put on a brave face.

“For everything deplorable about monsters, you have to give them credit where it’s due. They truly stick to their chosen paths,” Blue murmurs, a faint trace of pride in the edges of their voice. They stand behind Frisk, setting their hands on her shoulders. They lean forward, whispering in Frisk’s ear. “But so do you, Red. You have chosen to become a reflection of these monsters. They wish to annihilate humans, so you must annihilate them.”

They push Frisk forward, and the vessel for HATE knows what to do. She bends her knees, and with the speed of someone less affected by gravity, she closes the distance between her Monster Kid before he can even blink. She twists her body, lifting her leg up to kick Monster Kid in the head. Monster Kid’s eyes widen, but he has enough sense to dodge out of the way. Unfortunately, Frisk is the stronger combatant of the two, and it feels more like a beat-down than a proper fight.

That is, until Frisk’s fatal strike is tanked by Undyne, the knight who had been following Frisk through Waterfall. Monster Kid stumbles back as Frisk backflips away from Undyne.

“Undyne… You’re… You’re hurt…” Monster Kid whispers, staring at the back of his hero.

“Hurt? It’s nothing. Next time, listen when I tell you to leave, okay?” Undyne responds, pressing a hand against the wound. Frisk stares dispassionately, feeling Blue’s presence all around her as if the eidolon had become one with the darkness of Waterfall.

“Undyne… I…”

“I’ll take care of this! Get out of here!” Undyne yells. Monster Kid finally takes the cue, and he flees the scene immediately. Frisk snarls, half-disappointed that her prey has run away from her. Frisk lets go of that disappointment, however, when Undyne summons a spear. Frisk feels a cruel smile rise onto her lips. She has new prey now, she realizes as she attacks Undyne.

Natalia slaps a hand over her mouth to keep herself from howling in pain.  Her entire body is covered in bruises and cuts, but all of that is negligible compared to her broken leg. She holds it against her chest, using her other hand to regulate how much blood is falling onto the floor of Steamworks. She wants to cry out for help, but she knows that… that thing will find her if she does. No, Natalia has to stay quiet even when she thinks she can feel a bone poking through her skin.

Natalia puts one hand on the wall behind her. She slips on the blood, but she doesn’t give up. She tries again, managing to put weight on one of her legs. She looks around, searching for a place where she can hide. Any place worth going is too far away. She doesn’t know any place with bandages, and she doesn’t think anyone is going to offer any healing magic. Even if they did, she’d beg them to use it on her mother even though she can’t stand properly on her feet.

A mechanical noise sends a shot of fear down on her spine. She looks over her shoulder to find that robot rolling over to her. She attempts to run away, but the minute she puts her weight on her broken leg, she is on the ground with a scream pouring from her gasping mouth. She sobs, trying to lock her scream away in her chest, but that thing has already found her.

“Please,” she whispers, looking at the robot. It says nothing as it lifts a hand up, summoning her dark blue INTEGRITY SOUL. She lifts a hand up to grab onto her SOUL, but the robot grabs it before she can take it back. The robot hides the SOUL in its chest. It looks down at Natalia. It says nothing as it deals the final blow, putting her out of her misery.

Perhaps as a final act of mercy, the robot drags her body along with it as it delivers the SOUL to its creator. Her body is put in a coffin, and her SOUL is put in a glass cage to preserve it for a prosperous future she will never get to see.

Blue stands in the corridor on one side. Frisk walks past them, glancing over her shoulder once to see Blue waving at her. Like a flashlight being shone on a shadow, Blue suddenly disappears. Frisk looks away, feeling the HATE cover her entire face and reach up halfway her upper arm. She no longer notices it nor feels any pain from it as she crosses into Hotland.

*You are filled with INTRANSIGENCE 

Chapter Text

Directly contrasting Waterfall, Hotland is blistering hot without a drip of water in the air. The heat races down Frisk’s spine, digging its dull claws into her flesh. The fumes make her vision blur and vomit rises into her mouth. As she staggers across the red-orange rock, collapsing onto her knees, she feels the rough ground dig into her palms. The lava light burns her eyes, forcing her to slam her eyes closed for her own safety. The hostile environment is terrible, but for the first time since the beginning of her journey, Frisk is starting to feel a little more like herself. The pain extended throughout her entire body, even the parts hidden beneath the rolling darkness that was consuming more of her silhouette with each passing second.

“Oh, dear,” Green murmurs, reaching a hand out. They grab onto Frisk’s shoulders, lifting her from the ground. They wipe their hands across Frisk’s appearance, and the soothing chill of healing magic rolls through her body to chase away both the heat and her humanity. When Green takes a step back, Frisk is so far from her other self that she can feel the cool touch of HATE touch the edges of her SOUL. “Do you feel better, Red? Are you ready to complete our mission?”

Red pushes past Green, heading towards the LAB building in the distance. Frisk flexes her fingers, forming fists for when a creature leaps out from the lava to attack her. Frisk is ready to tear it apart, and she almost directs those violent impulses on Green as they grab onto her shoulder. She looks over her shoulder, glaring at her newest companion. Green, either unaware or uncaring of Red’s temperament, “Are you sure you don’t want to rest a moment? I know the others have been pushing you to do this as quickly as possible, but even they must know that we can’t push you too far. Even if your body can handle it, I know that you are experiencing our memories. I fear that might be causing more mental damage than the HATE ever could.”

Frisk isn’t bothered by the memories. They come and go with little context, and even though she can feel the underlying emotions, she has lost her ability to process those emotions. They are more like inconveniences than proper hindrances, but Green is acting as if Frisk is losing her mind over it. Frisk should feel annoyed. She should command Green to step aside and remind them that she is doing all of this because she wants to. But perhaps as a testament to her point, Red feels nothing at all.

She pulls her arm out from Green’s hold. She marches toward the entrance to the LAB. Green hums in disappointment, but they follow closely behind Red like a faithful servant.

“It’s ready!” He yells from the door frame between the hallway and the kitchen. Once the bait has been thrown into the ring, the animals come thundering out of their various hiding places. He hides a smile as he listens to the children giggle and argue about their places around the dining room table. He lifts a couple of plates onto his arms, balancing them carefully even as the children come to dart around his legs, almost tripping him up. He glares down at them, avoiding stepping on a toy as he finally sets the various plates down on the table. “Eat up.”

The children need no further command. They instantly grab onto whatever piece of food they find most appetizing. Most will even argue and fight over what they want, but he intervenes before any acts of violence can be performed. The children show little resistance to his words as they settle themselves into a peaceful arrangement around the dining room table. 

He smiles widely at them even when no one is paying attention to him. He thrives in this environment. He loves helping out the other children at the orphanage, giving them a helping hand because he knows how desperately some of them must have been wishing for it. He remembers his own experiences at the orphanage, after all, so he knows a thing or two about that heart-wrenching desperation. He wanted someone to stop his tears from falling, so now he’s taking that position for those who come after him.

“Doctor!” One child calls out from the thick of the mass. The other children swiftly parrot their companion when they realize the man is standing at the threshold. The older man leans heavily against the side of the door. He runs a hand down the side of his face, letting his fingers tangle into the strands of his long hair. The children stop their scrambled rush to scarf down the food in front of them as they watch the doctor eye them apathetically.

“Doctor, I’ve prepared your medicine. Once you take it, I will bring a bowl of thin soup up to your study,” He immediately sets forth into action. He darts back into the kitchen to pick up the tray he puts the medicine, a glass of water, and a single-pressed flower to mask the scent. He was going to bring this tray up to the study along with the finished soup as the doctor very rarely comes out of his study. Although he opened his home up to those orphaned by the war, he doesn’t personally deal with any of the children because of the sickness this medicine is used for.

He brings the tray to the doctor. The man stares down at the medicine with a barely visible scowl pulling at his lips. The doctor shakes his head. He turns away from the group. His footsteps are heavy as he carelessly throws his weight around with little concern for his body. As he turns into the stairwell, he glances over his shoulder. “Bring it all up.”

The doctor goes back upstairs. He nods to himself as he hurries back into the kitchen to finish the soup for the doctor.

Red is immediately thrown headfirst into battle from a combination of her own bloodlust and the negative opinion monsters hold of her. Green shows some resistance to watching the monsters turn into dust, but they do absolutely nothing as Red continues to violently carve a path for herself through Hotland. Her skin has almost entirely been taken by HATE’s blackness, and her thought patterns are incredibly narrow-minded. She is going to destroy whatever crosses her path regardless of what it is.

Green has grown used to this. They still refuse to look at the piling corpses, but they, like Blue before them, use their SOUL magic to assist Red. Green’s power flows through Frisk’s hands, creating shields that protect Frisk from oncoming damage. When the shields fail or Frisk becomes too reckless, Green is willing to extend some healing magic that renews Red’s vigor and capability. Frisk is certain that she doesn’t need to sleep anymore, and eating has become a forgotten memory with how hollow her entire body has become.

There is some part of Frisk that feels the echoes of this place in her body. Some places seem to be contaminated with memories that Frisk knows she should remember. She has been here before. She has faced these people before. She wasn’t covered in dust that time, though. She wasn’t holding any weapons. She had a companion with her who wasn’t bathed in green light. She was…

Red hisses in agony as she slams her fist onto the head of the Royal Guard. The monster makes an animalistic whining noise as it fades into dust. Red picks herself up from the floor. She stares down at the ground with narrowed eyes. She can’t stand this anymore. She wants all of these monsters gone. She’s tired of fighting, and she’s tired of memories. Even the ones that aren’t her own.

“Doctor?” He asks, peeking his head into the study. He startles when he sees additional people in the room, nearly dropping the candle he was using as a light source. He shakes his head, his entire body following suit immediately. The individuals in the room regard him reproachfully, not a flicker of emotion crossing all of their darkened eyes.

“Ellis, come here,” The doctor says from his desk. He gestures his hand forward, permitting Ellis to step into the room. Ellis swallows thickly, slipping into the study. He keeps his eyes on the floor as he walks between the small crowd of strangers. He stops at the doctor’s desk. He finally looks up when he sees the edge of the doctor’s desk. He meets the doctor’s dark eyes. The doctor is exhausted. He refused his medicine today, so there is paleness in his cheeks and a tremble in his hands that the doctor cannot notice with how hazy his vision seems to be. “Ellis, I want to introduce you to some people. Everyone, this is Ellis Katharos. He’s one of my wards.”

Ellis nearly drops the candle again. As a child abandoned, Ellis doesn’t have a traditional last name. The name ‘Katharos’ belongs to the doctor. He only gives that name to particularly noteworthy orphans that grow out of his house’s care and support. Ellis only knows of a handful of people who ever received the doctor’s name as their own, and they had all already left the orphanage by the time they got the name. The doctor is giving the name to Ellis now. Ellis has a bad feeling this has something to do with the people around him as he turns around to look at them.

“Greetings, Ellis Katharos. I am General Jade, an old colleague of the doctor’s. I came to visit with a few of my people to look for a particular type of individual. Would you allow me to ascertain if you are of this variety?” A woman says, stepping forward to take charge of the situation. Ellis stares up at her with a sudden spike of fear shooting through him. The woman has sharp eyes like those of a hawk, and her dark green hair with gray streaks of age is cut short at her shoulders. Her broad shoulders fill out a black military uniform, and she tucks her cap underneath her muscled arm. Her skin is tinted warm from the sun, but it is covered thickly in white and pink scars of varying lengths. The worst is a gash on her cheek that is as red as blood yet none of the precious liquid is leaking from it.

“Y-yes,” Ellis whispers, avoiding eye contact with her. Ellis isn’t scared of her appearance necessarily. He has seen many vicious scars in his life, and he’s met a couple of soldiers in town before who were just as mean-looking and strong as General Jade. It’s her eyes that terrify him. His emotional heart cannot find a trace of sensation in those eyes, nothing to latch onto. His SOUL senses unfathomable power. She is someone who commands great power without feeling a thing.

“Yes, sir,” The doctor corrects lazily. 

Jade waves him off. “It matters not. If he is someone I am looking for, he will learn. If he is not, this interaction will fade from his memory with time. Vert, prepare the procedure.”

Ellis isn’t able to get a word in as a soldier steps out from the shadows toward him. Vert, as Jade called him, presses a hand to Ellis’s chest. Ellis makes an odd noise as he feels something inside of him respond to the touch. As Vert pulls his hand away, a translucent green material connects his fingers with Ellis’s chest. Once Vert is far enough back that the strange material is pulled taut, it begins to solidify into a heart-shaped illusion of light. Vert cusps the SOUL between his hands, closing his eyes. Ellis reaches a finger toward his SOUL, unable to bring himself to touch it.

“General?” The doctor asks. He is standing beside Ellis now. The doctor’s eyes are half-lidded. He really should have taken his medicine, especially with this meeting happening, but it’s too late now. All Ellis can do is wrap an arm around the doctor’s waist to keep the man upright.

“Passable. If there is no one better, I will take him,” Jade responds. She hasn’t looked at the SOUL once since it was pulled from Ellis’s chest. She doesn’t look at it as it is shoved back in. Ellis releases a tight breath as his magic once again flows throughout his body. Jade turns on her heel. She leaves the room promptly, putting her cap back on her head when she steps into the hallway. Her entourage follows behind her dutifully with blank expressions.

“Shit,” The doctor whispers. Ellis does drop the candle this time as the fact that the doctor cussed registers in his mind.

Red hates Mettaton. She hates every monster, yes, but Mettaton is especially difficult. The robot will not sit still long enough for Red to kill them. All they do is set up stupid game shows and taunt Red. It is getting on Red’s nerves, awakening emotions she thought were buried beneath the poison coursing through her veins. She is disgusted with Mettaton, and those feelings continue to propel her forward, one step at a time.

The only reason Red doesn’t tear the entire place apart is because Green is there with them. Although Green can do very little to quell Red’s bloodlust— and doesn’t show many signs of wanting to anymore— their cool hands seem to wash away Red’s impatience. Red leans into the comforting hands even if it borders on annoying her as much as Mettaton does. Green says nothing as they effortlessly lessen the heavy load on her shoulders.

The closer Red and Green become, the better Red’s mastery over Green’s magic is becoming. The battles are no longer as draining which does bring some enjoyment back into Red’s crippling mental state. Red blames Green for these odd emotions that burst inside of her like bubbles in miasma. Red slaps her cheeks with her hands, feeling the touch throughout her pain receptors. She hisses, pulling away from Green to finish the fight with Mettaton EX. She is going to put an end to these annoying feelings, and she’s going to kill that annoying bot.

The doctor pulls Ellis along behind him. Despite feeling uncomfortable with this situation, Ellis follows behind the doctor. They keep going until they’re at the edge of the property line, as far away from the nearby village as they possibly could be. Ellis has never been this far. The children rarely stray this far away from the main house. Even if they did, they all know to come running when Ellis calls for them because cooked food is scarce to come by with so many greedy mouths. Ellis would never choose to be here, either, but the doctor is insisting with his tight grip.

“Doctor, I think we should head back now. You still need to take your medicine for the night, and—”

“No!” The doctor hisses. He stops immediately, turning around to look into Ellis’s bright green irises with his own faded pair of eyes. Ellis’s expression tenses, eyebrows narrowing together and lips pressing into a tight line. The doctor takes a deep breath through his nose, but he looks out of it. “No medicine. No… No poison. That shit is messing with my head. I should have realized… Nevermind. We need to get you out of here.”

“What are you talking about, doctor? What’s happening? Why are we… why…” Ellis trails off when the doctor shoves the drawstring bag he’s been dragging along with him in Ellis’s hands. Ellis cautiously opens the bag to find a few pairs of clothes and some packages of food. This could mean anything, but the doctor packed Ellis’s stained apron and his frying pan. “Are you—”

“Yes, I am kicking you out. If you stay, General Jade will force you to join her squad. I can’t let that happen to anyone else. You have to run, Ellis. Use my name and get yourself out of here. Don’t fight a war you don’t understand,” The doctor says, leaning in close enough that Ellis can smell the decay on his breath. Everyone in the orphanage knew that the doctor was once a thaumaturge for the military. They knew his sickness came from his experiences, even if no one was quite sure what the sickness entailed. Ellis knew a little more about it because he prepared the doctor’s medicine, but he never thought the doctor would have such a terrible experience with the military that he would try to force Ellis to run away.

“Stop thinking, boy, and run,” The doctor said, slamming a hand against Ellis’s shoulder. After a few days without medicine, the doctor’s strength is nonexistent, but Ellis stumbles forward in surprise. He turns around to look at the doctor, crossing into the forest at the property’s edge. The doctor narrows his eyes at Ellis, a flash of anger that quickly dissipates. The doctor sighs, looking around. When his eyes come back to Ellis, they are surprisingly clear. “You are a kind boy, Ellis. You have one of the purest KINDNESS SOULs I’ve seen in years. But the military will not let you keep that. They will warp your sense of compassion until you are their puppet. They will convince you that committing unspeakable sins is the kindest thing you can do. It isn’t. I fell for their trap years ago, and I opened my home to orphans to make up for a fraction of what I’ve done. But you still have a chance, Ellis. You can leave this place for good with your SOUL intact.”

Ellis sucks in a tight breath. This is the most the doctor has ever spoken to him. Really, to anyone in the orphanage. And he’s using so many of his preciously held words to convince Ellis to protect himself. Ellis has a responsibility to the orphanage, but it seems like he doesn’t have a choice. He can run away now, or Jade will take him away. No matter what Ellis does, this place is no longer one he can protect. He promises to return, one day, but for today, Ellis follows the will of the man who reached a hand out to him when he had no one.

Ellis disappears into the forest, fading into the darkness of the night.

Red snags the metallic material as the vent stops producing steam for a second. Vaguely, Red feels heat from the metal as she places it in her lap, but she doesn’t have any concept of pain or any skin left to burn. Red stares at the burnt frying pan, running her fingers along each ridge. Green squats down beside her, leaning their head against her shoulder in an affectionate gesture that has become more usual as their combined journey continues. “This was mine. I made many meals with this.”

Red trembles as the memories of those meals suddenly descend upon her. She shrieks uncomfortably as the emotions of a foreign person and time swirl inside her dead heart. Green holds her through it, whispering soothing words and petting the gossamer strands of HATE that were once Frisk’s hair. Frisk feels silent tears build in her eyes as she hugs the frying pan closer to her. Frisk keeps the tears from falling from sheer force of will, and she pulls away from Green. She stands up as soon as the memories stop bombarding her.

“Red… It’s okay if you need to take a break. I know we’re going to succeed, so you don’t have to rush this,” Green calls out, everything in their voice radiating with something soft. They are filled with as much HATE as Red is, yet they continue to act as if they are above their own savagery. Red feels nothing as she looks away from Green and their hypocrisy, continuing towards their next destination.

The doctor found Ellis in an alleyway in the village. He was immediately moved into the doctor’s house. Sometimes, Ellis would go to the village to shop at the market or escort the younger kids to school. That was the extent of Ellis’s travels. Any further was completely unnecessary when everything he needed and wanted was so readily available around him. He thought he would continue living at the orphanage as a caretaker until the day he died. He thought that maybe one day the doctor would allow Ellis to inherit the place so he could turn it into a proper orphanage that could take care of so many kids. Ellis had so many big dreams, and they could all come true within those four walls.

But the doctor sent Ellis away for his safety. Ellis chose a random path, and he kept following it until he needed to make another choice. This continued for a while with Ellis stopping at nightfall for rest and continuing his journey at dawn. Ellis’s feet hurt as much as his heart does, but he cannot stop walking for fear that it will all be for nothing.

But still, Ellis never thought he would be able to see something like this. He accidentally fell into a hole that led him to an entire world inside of a mountain. There were strange creatures he had never seen before that were capable of communicating with him. They were a little wary of him, at first, but Ellis’s KINDNESS built a bridge between him and these monsters.

Ellis wonders if he could find himself another home in this place. If there are monsters, there must be orphans who need someone to look after them. Or an orphanage looking for a cook?

Red pulls the mechanical core out of the robot’s body. Red squeezes it, feeling oil drip across her fingertips like blood from a crushed heart. The simple destruction is entirely intoxicating. It makes her want to physically destroy even more monsters like this.

“Are you feeling better?” Green asks, taking the hand covered in both oil and dust. Red cannot feel the touch. Mostly because Green is a ghost and Red is on her way to becoming one, but also because Red cannot feel much with her hands. When she’s using her hands for destruction, she feels every sensation. The air around her? Simple touches? The weight of the frying pan? Nonexistent unless she’s tearing them apart. At least Red will be able to tell ill-intentioned touches from the pure ones. If she can feel them, they mean to do her harm, so she should do them harm. Only Green will have touches that Red cannot feel, and she doesn’t need his comfort anymore.

Her enemy is dead. The feelings churning inside of her are gone. The HATE surrounds her chest like a viper waiting to strike. Most importantly, the memories have faded. She knows who Green used to be as if that matters for what she’s trying to do.

“I’m glad,” Green says, sounding genuine. They clasp their hands together over their chest. Even though Red cannot see their face, she knows they are wearing a proud expression. A happy one, even. Red looks away from Green. She walks toward her next destination, leaving Mettaton’s corpse behind. Green follows behind her, humming a song that she vaguely recognizes from their memories.

Ellis knows he’s crying. He can feel the warmth against his cheeks, and his eyes sting with the pain (or maybe the thick smoke, he isn’t sure). He doesn’t hear his cries over the ringing in his ears. Even more pain boils inside of his body. He reaches a hand up to touch his chest, feeling the warm blood pooling across the surface. It falls against his hands, running down his forearm and elbow to create a pool underneath him.

He vaguely sees the faces in front of him. One of them is crying. Ellis tries smiling at them to show that his tears are not born from sadness. He does not regret his decision, even if he wishes it didn’t have to hurt so much.

“How is he not dead yet?” Someone whispers distantly, voice completely filled with shock. Another voice hisses at them, words Ellis cannot hear but a tone that he recognizes. If he had the strength, he would chuckle. Even as he lies dying, he cannot escape children arguing with each other.

“We have to take his SOUL,” The first voice whispers. Ellis can hear the way they are keeping themselves from crying.

The other voice responds immediately, “We can’t leave him!”

“There’s nothing we can do for him. All we can do is fulfill his last wishes. He wanted to save us… the Underground. If we don’t help him do that, his death would have been for nothing,” The first voice explains. A hand lands on Ellis’s face, forcibly closing his eyes. They think he’s already dead. Maybe he is. Everything feels so distant. The pain is dragging him towards his grave, and his SOUL has been extracted from his chest to guarantee that he doesn’t experience any emotional sensations. Death is swiftly approaching, and Ellis welcomes it with open arms.

“Thank you, human,” The second voice says, but it’s the person with the first voice who kisses Ellis’s forehead as a way of saying goodbye. The two voices fade alongside their footsteps. Ellis’s SOUL is brought so far away from his body that he dies instantly.

A Royal Guard finds the corpse later. They are surprised by the lack of a SOUL, but they take the body to their king as per royal decree. The king accepts the body, realizing it is the one that belongs to the SOUL the two monster children brought him earlier. He places the body into a coffin, adding it to the growing number in the depths of his palace.

“This is the end of the line for us. Thank you for letting me come with you. I hope you continue to succeed, Red. We’re all counting on you,” Green says. They wrap their arms around Red, pulling her in for a hug. She doesn’t move her arms, but she doesn’t pull away from the hug. Logically, it is good that Green is leaving her since he brings up so much instability, but part of her, that stupid little emotional part that Green drew out, wishes they would stay a little longer.

Green pulls away. They take a step back, disappearing. The last of Red’s emotions disappear completely. With a straightforward focus, Red reaches the end of their journey: New Home.

*You are filled with ABJECTION

Chapter Text

Concisely put, New Home is gray. The setting is etched in this ashen color, and even the light that falls through the wide corridors is hoary instead of pearly white or sunshine yellow. The shadows are as thick as inscrutable darkness, casting sharp lines to accentuate each object brought within the borders of the city. In this way, Red fades into the natural atmosphere the capital maintains as someone who belongs in front of the soot-colored bricks stacked high into formidable buildings. Only the red dots in the darkness that might suggest the illusion of eyes contrast the aesthetic of the lifeless sanctuary for monsterkind. Likewise, Purple also fits into this place, with the bonus that their own dot-like eyes are muted enough to be mistaken for potent darkness gathering in one place amidst the fuzzy way Purple’s body projects itself around some supernatural core.

Another source of color in this forsaken place would be the golden star that shimmers at the end of a lightly shaded path. Red cups the star between her monstrous hands, covered in both darkness and dust. The star pushes away enough of the darkness to reveal a pair of gloves that were worn once to cause damage, but the light that burns across Red’s face does very little to make any remnants of the person underneath appear. Instead, Red closes her hands around the star, squishing the chromatic glare between her palms. What was once warm to the touch is rendered abstractly cold by the curse inflicting her corporeal form. When her hands slide away from the star, content in the knowledge that her progress has been saved by the timeline itself, she pulls her hands away. The star continues to flicker in her vision, half-there and in the next second not, but the light is no less potent as she moves away from the star.

Purple follows her diligently, a curious glance thrown at the star as they pass by it. Red says nothing on the matter. Even if Purple were to start asking questions, her voice box and lungs are so thoroughly filled that she feels as if she were drowning with every step forward. It drags her further into the depths, erasing all phantasms of humanity that might have existed in her psyche prior to entering the achromatic lands at the heart of the mountain. Purple might be able to speak, revealing their ability to produce sentient thought and verbalize it, but Red has no such power. There is only one reason why she keeps moving. She will fulfill the wishes thrust upon her by the souls of the damned. The violence they sought in deathless slumbers is hers to realize, and she will not fail. She is too SPITEFUL for that.

Red and Purple are silent companions as they cross the threshold into the house of a king that resembles the home of a woman they both once knew, her kindness irrevocably changing them. Purple might remember her, and they might recognize this household as something familiar, but they do not alert Red to their recognition or bring up the question if Red can as they follow the half-alive, half-rotting mortal into a shell of a domicile’s capital.

The interior of the mansion is cold and quiet. The soft red of the curtains and crisp blue of the walls are both muted in the silver light of the moon streaming through the hallway windows. The night winds blow against the glass, scratching like dogs at a door for the chance to wrap their sickening claws around mortal lungs. Clouds stroll across the Stygian darkness, providing ample evidence for the assumption that a storm is brewing. The rain will fall in the later hours of the night, but for now, it remains in the sky as a foreboding omen to those still awake enough to recognize the danger they might present for those caught unawares.

A teenage boy is part of those awake to watch the clouds gather together in preparation for the storm. Although most teenagers shift their sleeping schedules to late nights and even later mornings, it is an unusually deep part of the night for anyone to be awake. Dawn is only a handful of hours away. It is a part of the night that most people should not be privy to see, yet the teenager remains steadfast in his pursuit down the hallway. He is glancing out the windows as he passes from one path of silver light to the next, but the majority of his attention is on the door at the end of the hall.

It is made from dark wood. There are carvings along the edges that tell tales of heroes and monsters fighting in a war brought to a close hundreds of years ago. He knows this door from many days and nights sitting in front of it in his youth, so he does not pay much attention to the engravings that he could probably replicate from memory, if not for his lack of skill with a carving knife and block of wood. He still runs his fingers along one of the heroes, one of the few superstitions that have survived in his mind after his puberty chased away childish beliefs. For the intent of being honest, he doesn’t truly believe touching the carving will provide him with any additional luck or forethought, but it eases his nerves in a way very little else does, and only fools will cast aside what comforts the mind even if it looks illogical to others.

He pushes the door open once his ritual is complete. He steps into the office, letting the door click shut behind him. He takes a breath through his nose, letting the smell of old books and scented candles whip through his body. He keeps his eyes open as he delves deeper into the room, stepping onto a velvet red carpet that cuts through the middle of the room like an incision administered by a surgeon. A heavy wooden desk with metal appendages rests on top of the carpet, anchoring the fabric to the floor even when shuffling feet pass over. He does not require such an anchor since his steps are firm, a testament to a gait practically forced onto him from lessons in his youth. Still, the desk is a marvelous piece of furniture, one that he desires will be given to him when the patriarch of the family passes.

He quickly dismisses such macabre thoughts. The night is too dark to wish for a legacy, no matter how little he cares for the patriarch. He lets go of the emotions quickly building in his chest from the thought of that man, and he returns to the purpose of his visit. He turns away from the desk, going to the edge of the room. As all rooms are, there is a wall in the farthest parts of the room. This particular wall is covered in portraits. Some plaques explain the names of the subjects, and more than a few of them carry additional information like titles acquired in life. He does not possess a portrait since he is too young and inexperienced with very little to his name that was not given to him by his bloodline, but he doesn’t mind it as much as the other members of his particular generation, like siblings and cousins, do. 

In fact, if someone were to peek into his mind— for he would never say so audibly himself— they would find that he did not want to be on the wall. He did not personally dislike anyone on the wall, and surely there was some level of respect due since they were responsible for his birth in the first place, he didn’t see any of their achievements worthy of their place in history. They were all less than morally righteous individuals. Oftentimes, their downfalls were apathy rather than outright cruelty, but it was enough to sicken the little boy inside of him that neither he nor his teachers could properly kill. He did not want to be apathetic or cruel enough to sit among these portraits.

Well, there was one exception on this wall, and it was the whole reason he had snuck into the office at this late hour when he could confirm that no one would be there. A woman with hair as purple as the twilight sky and eyes as dark as jam over toast was staring out with a mischievous smirk pulling at her roseate lips. She was the only person in any of these portraits to have an expression, and she chose to revel in her happiness. Another difference between her and the others would be the fact that her plaque was filled with accomplishments, far more than anyone else, but no name. She was a figurehead for the family’s aspirations, but her name had been purposefully wiped from history. While it was not technically her smile that got her erased from the known world, the descendant of hers staring up at the picture in the present assumes that what her smile represented— her passionate heart and preference for amusement— was the reason the family refused to acknowledge she was one of them. They only kept the portrait because she was a great Thaumaturge in the war carved onto the door. She was the hero that he always found comfort in touching before he entered this room.

“Rainer,” A voice nearly spooked the teenager. He was able to hide his surprise with a quick breath. He made certain to smooth any imperfections of his visage when he tilted his body to the side. He glances over his shoulder rather than turning his body, and he is greeted with the sight of the patriarch— his great-grandfather— approaching. The older man sports a head of snow-white hair, wrinkles all over his face, and a cane in hand that clacks against the ground as he walks over to Rainer. Despite his old appearance, his hard violet eyes and broad shoulders paint the image of a man in the prime of his youth. There are very few who would look upon this man without feeling, even a little, remiss to dare defy him. But defy him they will, and this will lead to their failure. Age does not erase the years the patriarch spent participating in the war— one between humans rather than humans and monsters. A general is still a general, even when the grim reaper hovers around his aura for the perfect moment to strike.

“Sir,” Rainer answers even if only his name was spoken, not a question. He would be a negligent great-grandchild if he did not know how to greet the patriarch. It was probably one of the first lessons imparted to him by his instructors, further reinforced by his parents on the few occasions he was allowed to meet with them. Rainer might be dispassionate about his family, but he is not an idiot. His bloodline protects him. It provides for him. Without them, he would have nothing, and while he might acquire the means to gain something on his own, he would much rather remain in the corners of this house until someone dies and gives him what he needs to leave this forsaken household.

“I should have known it would be you,” The patriarch says with a sigh creeping around the edges of his voice. The patriarch is as neutral to Rainer as the teenager is to him, but there is some sort of understanding between them. They do not hide their detachment from each other, and perhaps this unwillingness to lie is what allows them to have a purer connection than the patriarch and Rainer have with anyone else in the family. “Though, I must ask what your purpose is.”

“Unfortunately, it is a rather unbecoming reason. I experienced a night terror, and the portrait of my ancestor was always a comforting presence when I was younger. I thought it would have the same effect,” Rainer explains, looking back at the portrait. The part of him molded by his teachers screams at him for telling the truth. The patriarch disdains the woman in the portrait Rainer looks up to, and Rainer wasn’t lying when he said his reason was unbecoming. Fear is not a welcome emotion in this household, though very emotions are welcome. Still, Rainer finds honesty to suit him better than lies, and while the patriarch might disapprove of Rainer’s reasons, he will respect the teenager for saying them simply.

“It is only paint on a canvas, Rainer,” The patriarch notes standing beside the teenager. He cranes his neck to stare at the portrait of the woman. Rainer glances at the patriarch long enough to determine that the man isn’t too affected by the picture.

“Would you rather me take comfort from mere herbs from the garden?” Rainer asks, resisting the urge to snort as he asks. Other people in the family have begun to experiment with drugs. Everyone is aware of their actions, but no one cares very much what the others do. The patriarch himself is disappointed, but he leaves his family to their own devices until their destructive habits affect the reputation of the household. When the patriarch steps in, it’s too late for anyone caught in his gaze. Rainer has seen it happen once with his older sister, and the horrible visions of that night are what primarily force Rainer into acting like a church mouse.

“It would be a more normal habit, I suppose, but to answer your question, no, I would rather you not. There is a fine head on your shoulders. I would rather the others become more like you than you to become more like them,” The patriarch points out gruffly. He turns away from the portraits. Rainer listens to the clacking of a metal cane and polished shoes on the floor. The patriarch releases a tight sigh as he sinks into his chair. Rainer glances over his shoulder to watch this happen. He wonders idly what is keeping his grandfather alive. Is it a love for a life or an insistence on waiting for the perfect successor? Both seem unlikely, though Rainer notes that it is difficult for him to ever think about a day when his great-grandfather will die. Not only has he been alive for all of Rainer’s life, but he’s been alive for the entirety of the lives of everyone Rainer knows. It would be a much different world after the patriarch passes away.

“If sir is going to begin working, I will depart for my chambers. You have my gratitude for not scolding me for my childish behavior,” Rainer tells his great-grandfather. He has been thinking of death too much. While coincidences might not exist, Rainer fears that he might be forcing fate’s hand by dwelling too much on what life will be like after the inevitable occurs. Rainer does not care too much about his great-grandfather, but he can still acknowledge the presence the patriarch has in Rainer’s life and the attitudes of his family. Rainer is not ready for the succession fight that will boil over. He only hopes that his great-grandfather sets aside a little money for the one great-grandchild who was always honest with him. Rainer could leave this house happily if that happened.

“Hmm… yes, that would be acceptable. Do try to sleep some more, Rainer. You are leaving for the academy in the morning. You do not want to start the next semester on the wrong foot,” The patriarch says, opening a large book filled with an ancient language that the patriarch seems to be learning from some personal desire rather than an overarching goal. Rainer has seen the book a few times, but he has never bothered pretending he knew anything about it. He could not even tell the origin of the language nor its name.

“I will take heed to your wisdom. Goodnight, sir,” Rainer nods as he bows respectfully. He leaves the room without an additional dismissal. Rainer does not lie as he heads back to the rooms he is allowed to use when he comes home for holidays from the academy. It was a military school that he was enrolled in as soon as he turned of age, just as all of his family before him had done. It is only customary, Rainer supposes, but he doesn’t hate the school at the very least. It would be no stretch to say he was inspired by his ancestor to become a great Thaumaturge just like her. Not necessarily to get a portrait on the wall as his kin would assume, but simply because it made him feel closer to her. Additionally, and this reason is far too simple for someone bearing the name Bergfalk, he likes thaumaturgy. He enjoys it, and maybe that’s the real reason why his ancestor’s name was taken away from her. 

Will his name be taken from him if he continues down this path?

Flowey talks far too much in Red’s opinion. It drones on and on about its nature as an undead brought back to life in an incomplete form by DETERMINATION. It adds additional nonsense about its psychopathic and unempathetic nature. Red does not care, but she doesn’t have the voice to silence the creature. All attempts at handling the matter violently are subdued by Flowey’s ability to disappear back into the earth, popping up in other places to continue with its unceasing story of life and emotions lost between the transition of one realm to another.

Purple does not comment. They do not help Red eliminate the pest, nor do they indulge Flowey’s stories. They continue marching forward without looking over their shoulder to see if Red is following them. Red is half-tempted to fight Purple, too, but that is only the insatiable bloodlust in her talking. She cannot bring herself to even entertain what Purple would look like defeated simply because she can hear Purple’s voice in her head asking for her assistance in getting revenge against monsterkind for killing them. As Red listens to their voice, she can hear the whispers of the other SOULs. They want the same thing Purple does, the same thing Red does. She can withhold from attacking Purple or Flowey, keeping herself content with the monsters she finds on her way to the Last Corridor.

Purple stops suddenly, turning to face something. Red slows down enough to glance at the item attracting Purple’s attention. She completely stops when she comes to his side. Purple shifts out of the way to show Red something on the countertop. Red feels the heat of DETERMINATION brushing against her fingertips as she grabs onto the hilt of the Real Knife. It pulsates with the energy, resonating with the SOUL inside of her chest. Red runs the blade against one of her fingers, feeling the sharpness easily slice through her skin. She suspects blood will fall, but the blade seems to absorb the blood, taking the DETERMINATION that flows within her body even with the HATE nearly taking her over in its entirety. Red flicks the knife, preparing herself for battle.

She stalls when she sees a glint of gold in front of her. Red feels the weight of a locket through the darkness falling across her body. It reflects light when the rest of her absorbs it, and it retains a colorful hue even in the achromatic house. Red reaches her hand up to wrap her fingers around the metal. She feels nothing of its temperature or texture, but she senses memories lodged deep in the surface. It makes a pang of loneliness ring throughout her body. The emotion is so foreign to her now that she falls to her knees as if afflicted by a sickness. She lets go of the locket, putting both of her hands on the ground.

Purple grabs Red’s shoulders. They bring her back to her feet, nudging her forward. She glances over her shoulder at them. Purple shakes their head minutely, and they immediately step forward to lead Red through the last stretch of her journey through the city. Red’s hands fold into fists, one of them still carrying the knife, letting her bloodlust burst throughout her consciousness. She is no longer a human being, she reminds herself. She does not need to feel anything— certainly not weakness or loneliness.

He knows that he should be afraid right now. The frigid water that has been sapping strength from his body is starting to infiltrate his tightly shut mouth, leaking into his lungs. The darkness is dizzying as he tries to maintain balance. He has no way of determining which way is up, so he does not even attempt to swim. He lets the current take him away. It is an unacceptable way of treating the situation, but he is more tired than he thought he was. He has been weakened by the kindness of the monsters. He allowed himself to fall for their tricks, so perhaps a fool like him deserves to sink beneath the water they shoved him into when they realized he was in possession of something they would very much like to have.

Rainer almost smiles at this turn of events. On his way to the academy, some branch of his family paid the carriageman to throw Rainer off a ledge. Fortunately for the student, he landed in a patch of flowers that seemed to absorb the impact. He was immediately found by a motherly monster that took him into her home. She was reluctant to let him go, but he eventually passed through several ecosystems all maintained by the natural magic of Mt. Ebott. Rainer was curious about everything, and the monsters were extraordinarily even-tempered. They were kind to him, Rainer corrects himself. They were so kind that he felt safe, and he was paying for it now.

Rainer has always been in complete control over his emotions, but as the water fills his body, seeking to push away all pockets of air, Rainer finds himself laughing and crying. Both expressions are lost to the water, of course, but Rainer knows. His last thoughts are spent mulling over his reaction rather than fearing the death that creeps up on him as swiftly as unconsciousness does.

His body drags against the bank of the underground river. Someone finds him, either drawn by the decomposing scent or because they knew a human had been left to drown, and they take the purple SOUL that hovers above his body. The corpse is given to the king of the land to store underneath his palace in a casket. The notebook and glasses he brought along with him were retrieved by saleswomen to be sold, no care paid to who they once belonged to or why they were missing from their owner’s hands.

Her sins crawl across her spine as she stands in the Last Corridor. She steps between the pillars, letting the yellow light fall across her. Rather than warming her, the light seems to decrease her bodily temperature. She shivers to herself, but her grip tightens on the hilt of her knife as she stares at the monster on the other side of the corridor. The Judge, Sans, an old friend and new enemy, is waiting for her, skeletal hands in the pockets of his dirty blue jacket. He continues to smile, but there is nothing happy about this situation. Not even his jokes would remove the dust that stains her body, including the dust belonging to Sans’ brother and probably the only reason Sans continues to put up a facade in the face of his nihility.

Granted, Red is not alone. She is accompanied by Yellow, who took the place of Purple when they came into the hallway. Red is not sure why they changed. Maybe the child who used to be JUSTICE is the only one allowed in these hallowed halls. Maybe the child who is now VENGEANCE has a vendetta against Sans specifically. Maybe there is no reason. Red certainly doesn’t care if there is or what it could be. She just listens to Sans’ monologue about the wretched SOUL beating in Red’s chest. His comments about his surprise concerning her appearance are lost to the echoes, and he doesn’t dwell on it for long as he prepares his magic to attack her.

“He calls himself a judge,” Yellow notes wryly, their voice firm. The words do not echo, however, allowing Red to recognize Yellow as a ghost. Yellow lifts their hand up, holding a gun that Red vaguely recognizes. The memories of the gun are only granted to her because it’s a weapon, one that she could probably use instead of the Real Knife in her hands. Red looks away from the gun, deciding that it might be better in Yellow’s hands rather than her own. She only squats down, preparing to shoot forward on agile feet. The gun makes a clicking noise, and Yellow’s eyes narrow. “So, let’s show him what real judgment is.”

Red launches forward. Yellow pulls the trigger. Sans shoots a bone at Red. The fight has begun.

*You are filled with INCESSANCY

*You are filled with VENGEANCE

Chapter Text

Red stands in the golden light of a fading twilight shooting through large glass windows, the panes designed into beautiful geometric patterns. Red stares straight ahead. The red dots they see the world through flicker in and out as if the creature underneath is blinking. Although they are barely aware of it, they can hear the wheezing of a skeleton born from dust returning to its original state. Sans’ skull-face shows uneasy acceptance, the fruit of his nihilistic exhaustion. He breathes out sullenly, more of a sigh since he has no real reason to breathe, and his skeletal fingers grace upon the mark of liquid DETERMINATION that exits his wound like blood from a human. It drops onto the ground with a thinner viscosity and a purer shade of red than blood, but the effect is not mistakable. Sans’ form takes a few moments, but he eventually turns into dust that blows across the Last Corridor.

Yellow kneels beside the dust pile. They set their gun down beside them, the warm lemony light of their bullets fading from inside the chamber. Yellow tips their hat, an accessory made from HATE as much as the rest of Yellow’s body is. Yellow rises to their feet. They shift to look at Red with their star-like dots. Their body language is rigid as they grip their gun and hat with both of their fists. Yellow looks away from Red, over their shoulder at the final door that will lead Red to the end of their journey. “The monsters incurred a debt by slaying the innocent, and we shall repay that injustice tenfold. Judgment will soon be delivered by your capable hands. The Fallen will remain at your side, but this fight is yours, partner. We shall leave you to it. May you find the strength to finish your journey.”

Yellow swings their leg around to step into the darkness, out of the light of the window. As their body weight shifts from their back leg to the front one, they disappear into black wisps that dissipate a second later. For the first time in their journey, Red is well and truly alone. The Underground is nearly completely silent. The screams of the other Fallen have ceased. There is not a phantom of the past to goad Red forward. There is only the promise seared onto their SOUL.

Red steps over the dust pile, going into the darkness that Yellow abandoned them for. Red does not dissipate, but their body is completely taken over by HATE. There are no traces left of who they once were. They have no motivations or goals, only an unquenchable thirst to annihilate all monsters. They do not even know why they are doing this anymore. They couldn't care less what was driving them forward previously. It is only this moment— this final fight with the Boss, King Asgore of the monsters.

Asgore stands in a patch of marigold yellow flowers surrounded by an overgrown field of green and light purple plants. The light falls in patches, a splattering of white-gold pools laid across the vegetation. A golden throne with royal purple velvet cushions rests on a space of cleared floor in the distance. His back is to Red, and he is humming a song to himself. Red remains as still as the plants crushed beneath their ballet slippers, staring at the royal purple robes flowing from Asgore’s person. The king eventually tilts his head up, looking over his shoulder. “Curious. I've never seen a plant... Cry before… Huh?”

Asgore turns around completely, facing Red with an intense expression on his face. “You must be the one that flower just warned me about. Howdy!” Asgore’s face falters, and his paws twitch as if reaching to grasp the magic around him. “Erm… What kind of monster are you? Sorry, I cannot tell. Well, we can always…”

Red raises their knife, pointing the shimmering blade at Asgore’s figure. The monster’s face flickers with recognition, but he doesn’t allow the remorse in his eyes to cause him to hesitate. He summons his trident, red magic pulled together to create the illusion of DETERMINATION. Asgore’s face warms with a patient smile. “Now, now. There’s no need to fight. Why don’t we settle this over a nice cup of tea?”

Thoughts are the possessions of the conscious, and dreams are the possessions of the unconscious. Red falls in neither category. They have become an unliving, unsleeping creature. Therefore, they are not cognizant of the fact that their body shoots forward. They slice through Asgore’s chest, cutting the metal breastplate as if it were nothing more than paper. Asgore’s face dissolves. His magic disperses, and he crumbles to his feet to hold his wound. Red stands over him, staring down at his prone form. They keep the knife at their side, ready to lash out if Asgore shows strength comparable to those with DETERMINATION in their veins. “Why… you…”

Asgore transforms into dust. The weight slides off of Red’s shoulders as their mission is rendered complete. They stare down at the golden flowers, sinking into them. With their goal objectively done, they raise their hands to point the knife at their chest. They are about to defeat yet another monster in the Underground when Flowey pops up from the ground, decidedly different in appearance and mannerisms from the other flowers around him. Red lowers their knife, flicking the weight in their hands until it points at Flowey. While not technically a monster in species, Red sees no problem with dragging Flowey down with them since both Red and Flowey fit the more abstract definition of a ‘monster.’

Red’s chance is taken by a slash on the other side of Flowey’s body. The flower’s face crumples as it falls to the ground, rotted even before the browning petals hit the ground. Red is incapable of being surprised, so they do not flinch at the unexpected event. They do glance up to meet the eyes of the companion they lost at the beginning of their journey. Red rises to their feet as the world around them is consumed by the Void, the infinite emptiness wrapping around Red and Chara like a blanket.

The second the Void connects in the back, Red releases a human shriek. They collapse back down on the ground. The HATE covering their body melts off of them, tearing at their skin as it seeps into the darkness eerily similar to its composition. Red’s forehead presses against a solid surface as their arms wrap around their body. Parts of their body begin to drip with blood, but it’s visible. The blood falls into the Void, disappearing from view. After a while, Red is gone.

Frisk is left in its place. She stares at her hands as they curl into the Void, grasping at mist as if it were something substantial. She breathes out deeply, blinking away the sleepy feeling lingering in her body. She leans back onto her heels. She lifts her hands to slide across her skin, smearing her blood and burning with the power of touch. Frisk coughs raggedly. She starts to pull herself onto her feet, the memories of her time as Red and the memories given to her by the other Fallen trickling into her mind. An inconceivable guilt weighs heavily upon her shoulders, and she shudders at the sins clawing against the interior of her body.

Frisk’s head jerks upward to meet Chara’s eyes. Instead of carmine irises, Frisk is staring into the depths of the HATE that once consumed her body. Frisk stumbles forward. She sets her hands on Chara’s shoulders, leaving blood and dust to soak into Chara’s green sweater. Frisk’s face crumples with the weight of her sorrow, tears burning her eyes and a whimper escaping from her lips. She leans forward, pressing her forehead to Chara’s chest. Her words are as broken as her sobs as she pleads for forgiveness from the First Human.

“Hello,” Chara finally says. Frisk lifts her head, staring into the space where Chara’s eyes should have been. Her lips are in the form of a smile, but it doesn’t feel like one. It feels too unnatural. It feels dangerous, even, as creepy as the holes in Chara’s face are. “I am Chara.”

Frisk already knew that, but it seems Chara doesn’t remember her. Frisk bites the inside of her cheek, trying to figure out if that’s for the best or not. It would save Frisk from the irreversible wrong she’s committed against Chara, but it doesn’t really make the guilt go away. Frisk still burns with the knowledge that she completely annihilated the species Chara loved, the people that took Chara in when humans had made her disillusioned with life.

“Thank you. Your power awakened me from death. My ‘human SOUL.’ My ‘DETERMINATION.’ They were not mine, but yours,” Chara continues, heedless to the trouble brewing in Frisk’s mind. “At first, I was so confused. Our plan had failed, hadn't it? Why was I brought back to life?... You. With your guidance. I realized the purpose of my reincarnation. Power.”

Frisk’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. She stumbles back from Chara, though the ghost does not seem to notice. She continues, her smile growing even wider. “Together, we eradicated the enemy and became strong. HP. ATK. DEF. GOLD. EXP. LV. Every time a number increases, that feeling...That's me, Frisk. Now. Now, we have reached the absolute. There is nothing left for us here. Let us erase this pointless world, and move on to the next.”

Chara lifts a hand to Frisk, willing the human to take it. Frisk stares at the palm offered to her. A choice is laid out in front of her. ERASE or DO NOT. Frisk stares in disbelief. She must have… she must have corrupted Chara. When she grew too weak to stand up against the HATE of the other Fallen, she must have inadvertently chained Chara to that hate. In this Void— in Absolution, as Chara called it— Frisk was able to unshackle herself, but Chara is too far gone. Or maybe, Chara accepted that HATE into herself to save Frisk. Whatever the case, Chara is as corrupted as Red was, as Flowey was, as the other Fallen were.

“Don’t do this, Chara,” Frisk whispers, pleading for the phantom Frisk once knew to return to her side. Chara was Frisk’s first friend. She was the person that made Frisk see the beauty of the Underground. She was the one to comfort Frisk after each respawn, brushing away the lingering claws of death to bring Frisk happiness once more. Frisk needs that girl to come back to her. She no longer cares if Chara will forgive her for what she’s done as long as Chara is there to blame her.

The demon in front of Frisk says nothing. They show no signs of even hearing Frisk’s words. Frisk looks away. She stares into the darkness, searching for a way to escape this damnation. There is nothing around for her to use. There are no words that will remove the HATE from Chara’s SOUL. There is nothing Frisk can do in this formless land, but she cannot stay here forever. While she doesn’t particularly mind accepting this place as her punishment, she can’t leave Chara here, no matter how corrupted the former human has become. Frisk needs a solution.

*You are filled with DETERMINATION

The speech box appears right beside Frisk. She stares at it warily, and the longer she stares, the more she notices something off about this box. Although it looks black-and-white like the other speech boxes, it has an iridescent sheen, all the colors of the human SOULs. The iridescence is more aptly seen as a star appears in front of Frisk’s chest. The light stretches outward, wrapping around Frisk’s fingers as she brings her hands up to cradle it. Normally, these stars are used to SAVE. Frisk does not want to SAVE in Absolution, but it does give her the strength to bring the RESET button up. The word ‘TRUE’ appears above RESET. Frisk doesn’t know what that means, but she presses her fingers against the warm orange button.

“What are you—” The demon asks, reaching a hand forward as their face begins to melt. Frisk narrows her eyes, irises glowing with pure DETERMINATION. She feels the weight of time pull at her body, unfraying each of her conscious thoughts and physical matter. She gives the demon a soft smile as she promises to make everything better. She is going to SAVE everyone this time.

Chapter Text

Frisk gasps as she stumbles into consciousness. Her eyes widen. Pain shoots through her mind as light and color thunder through her mind like a tunnel quickly filling with floodwaters. She forces her eyes shut. Frisk throws one of her shoulders up and over. Her fingers claw into the soil, and the flower buds tickle the back of her hand as she forces down her nausea. A second time, she opens her eyes slowly. She squints while staring at the budding petals of the golden flowers. She chokes on her breaths. She is a couple seconds away from puking, but she keeps herself from doing that when she hears another unsteady breathing pattern near her.

Frisk looks up suddenly with enough force to aggravate her already stabbing headache. Chara is hovering above the ground a few feet away from Frisk. The ghost’s lips are parted with horror, and she grasps her chest as if the harshness of her breaths could kill her a second time. She is staring at her other hand, flexing her fingers slowly like she cannot believe what it is capable of.

Frisk stumbles onto her feet. She continues fumbling as she crashes directly into Chara’s body. Frisk wraps her arms around the phantom’s shoulders. She buries her face into Chara’s shoulder as they land in the flower patch. Frisk’s tears overflow from her eyes, and they sting so badly that she forces her eyes shut once more. Chara’s body is as cold and incorporeal as the wind, but Frisk latches onto her with all the strength in her SOUL. As the emotions slide across Frisk’s cheeks, she is able to grasp onto Chara. The ghost seems hesitant, but the moment Chara returns the hug by wrapping her arms around Frisk’s waist, the living one cannot stop the apologies from pouring out of her mouth.

“Frisk,” Chara interrupts. The single utterance of her name makes Frisk’s lips slam shut. She bites the inside of her cheek as she moves away from Chara’s shoulder. Frisk keeps her hands on Chara’s shoulders, staring intently to the phantom’s translucent red eyes. Frisk searches for answers in those eyes. She searches for hatred or indifference. All she finds is sorrow and forgiveness. Chara’s motions are uncertain, but she places her hand on Frisk’s cheek to wipe the tears away with her thumb. The strange exoneration makes Frisk sob even louder. She hides her face in Chara’s chest. Chara pats Frisk’s head comfortingly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I kept killing Monsters… You told me to stop and I didn’t. I genocided an entire race, and I made you into a—” Frisk cuts herself off, unable to finish her thought. Her actions led Chara to becoming a demon. Chara would have shattered the entire world, leaving this timeline to ultimate destruction. If Frisk had not broken free from her shackles in Absolution, she would have agreed with Chara’s offer without a second thought. The thought of it alone brings more tears to Frisk’s eyes as she does her best to hide herself away from everything. She would much prefer for Chara to hate her than forgive her, but Chara doesn’t push Frisk away in disgust. She only comforts Frisk with all the hesitation of someone unused to genuine care.

“HATE corrupted you, like it corrupted the other Fallen. Warning you to stop wasn’t enough. I should have taken action, but I didn’t. I fell into corruption as damningly as the rest of you,” Chara explains. She tugs on Frisk’s collar. The living one follows the motion until she’s sitting upright. Chara follows her. Chara wears a heavy frown full of guilt and grief. Frisk wants to wipe the frown away, but she doesn’t have the right to absolve Chara of her sins when Frisk feels all of hers crawling across her back.

“What do we do now?” Frisk asks, pulling her thighs to her chest. She wraps her arms around her knees. She taps a pattern against her skin. She doesn’t know where the other Fallen are right now, and she doesn’t know how corrupted they are. She believes she met their true selves in Absolution. It was them that assisted Frisk in summoning the TRUE RESET button by giving her their DETERMINATION. Frisk doesn’t know what that means. Will they be more corrupt than before since they’ve lost a part of their DETERMINATION? Or did helping Frisk ease away enough HATE that they have regained control over themselves? Are they still ghosts haunting the Underground, or have they passed on to a proper afterlife?

“I heard your promise in Absolution. You wanted to SAVE everyone, right? We have to do that this time,” Chara says. She shifts to sit on her haunches. Her hands rest in her lap, one over the other. Chara stares at them with as much surprise as she did when she first appeared in this new timeline. Frisk reaches out to grab Chara’s hand. Chara lets this happen with a grim smile. She meets Frisk’s eyes like a soldier learning their victory will come at the cost of their life. “Only, I don’t know how we’re going to do that. We went through the Underground once before, and we weren’t able to SAVE everyone. Even if the Fallen had not interfered, I doubt we would have gotten out of that fight with Dad with the power to break the Barrier.”

“We’re going to need all seven SOULs to do that. We need to get back to the Barrier to retrieve them. Is there a way to get to the Barrier without interacting with King Asgore?” Frisk asks. She ignores the memories that ripple through her mind. When she was infected by their HATE, Frisk shared a connection with each of the Fallen that allowed memories to transmit between them. Frisk knows a few cornerstone moments in each of their lives, including the moment when their body was left in the coffins in the basement while their SOULs were put in glass cases in the Barrier by Asgore. Frisk shudders at the memory. Unfortunately, she can see how that would be a breeding ground for potent HATE.

“I doubt we could do that. Dad must be very protective of the SOULs, especially when he hears that the seventh will be coming to the palace,” Chara shakes her head. Her expression turns pensive as she stares intently at the flowers beside her and Frisk. She uses the one hand Frisk has not trapped to feel the petals. Chara sighs heavily, her shoulder folding together with the exhale. “We might as well go through the Underground as we did that first time. Dad brought you to the Barrier when he did that, right?”

“What if the Fallen are there to corrupt me again?” Frisk points out.

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Since we know what they’re going to do, we’ll be able to figure out a means to stop them,” Chara answers. Her gaze becomes heavy with DETERMINATION. Her jaw sets, and she looks like she already has a plan to stop them. Frisk wants to ask about it, but Chara turns to her with a half-smile appearing on her face. “For now, let’s try to give everyone as much happiness as we can to make up for last time.”

“Understood. Operation Happiness is a-go.”

“Don’t call it that.”

—

Frisk stalls when she sees a strange gray door in the hallway of Waterfall. She frowns at the rusting metal symbols depicting this as Room 269. Frisk reaches a hand up to wipe the rust off the usually silver sign. The rust rubs onto her skin like watery blood. Frisk rubs the humid rust between her fingers and thumb. She watches as the rust slowly fizzles away, dripping off her hand like tears in the rain. It drops onto the ground, merging with the dark colors of the hall’s floor. Frisk glances away from the puddles on the ground to grab onto the door handle. She twists it, pushing the door open. Frisk takes one step into the room. Darkness suddenly engulfs her, and she loses her grip on the door. It slips through her fingers like the strange rust. Frisk puts her hands up defensively in front of her.

“Log—” A garbled noise follows the strangely audible word. More comprehensive words follow the static. “It appears an unfamiliar human with the SOUL Trait DETERMINATION has stepped into the room. Their profile displays the status of a proxy.”

“Who are you?” Frisk demands the second the strange voice stops talking. She looks around the darkness. Her hands scramble for something solid to grasp onto. When her sense of touch fails her and sense of hearing deludes her, her vision steps up to gaze upon something that breaks apart the shadows with light. A figure half-merged into the void wears a sterling white mask. Despite the obvious cracks, the rest of the mask is so clean that Frisk squints to avoid being blinded by the light.

“The human is capable of speech. They have posed a question to me to ascertain my identity. I shall finish this log later with the summary of our conversation,” The figure finishes, their mouth moving in the same way Sans and Papyrus’ jaws do when they speak. This figure is a skeleton like they are, but he’s part of the darkness like his form has been corrupted. The figure moves closer to Frisk to give them a clearer view of their mask. “Human, my name is Doctor W. D. Gaster. I am the former royal scientist of the Monsters. For this answer, I ask you who you are.”

“I’m Frisk,” She answers.

“Hmm… you claim not to have a position or a title, yet you have the status of a proxy. Do you know what that means, Frisk?” Gaster asks, saying her name more like an answer to an equation rather than a means of getting someone’s attention.

“HATE possessed me in a different timeline?” Frisk shrugs. She doesn’t know if she should be telling this figure that much, but he seems like someone aware of the other timelines in the way Flowey and Sans are. Surely, a mysterious creature like this in a realm eerily similar to Absolution would know more about time and space than the average Monster.

“That is a good guess to make given the limited information you possess, but you are incorrect. Proxy in this case does not refer to HATE unless you possess that Trait. You have a red SOUL of DETERMINATION. Because of this, you are a proxy of Carmine. All of this is negligible at the moment. It matters not if you understand, only if you are aware of why you are here,” Gaster gestures around with a skeletal hand. There is a hole cleanly carved into his palm that goes through his entire hand. Gaster’s movements do not stall with pain.

“I… I saw a door. I just went through it,” Frisk mentions vaguely, turning to look over her shoulder. The door is further away from her than it should be. She didn’t take too many steps into the room, but the door’s distance implies that she’s crossed a significant portion of space. Frisk glances back at Gaster. Space must work differently in this domain. She wouldn’t be surprised if time did, too. Frisk needs to get out of here as soon as possible if that’s the case. Chara is waiting for her. The rest of the Underground is, too.

“While I am curious why you made that decision since I am under the assumption that you knew nothing of that door’s purpose or what could lie beyond it, I was not referring to why you were here in the void. Do you know why you are in the Underground? Do you know what forces compelled you to come to a place no human dares to tread?” Gaster asks. He moves closer as he speaks. His form hovers around her. Frisk tenses, preparing herself for a fight. She quickly changes her positioning for a defensive one. She doesn’t know if Gaster counts toward her True Pacifist run, but she doesn’t want to take any chances.

“I know why I came to this mountain,” Frisk murmurs. She bites her tongue when the urge to explain herself further bubbles in her throat. She doesn’t want to tell Gaster about that.

“Carmine’s proxy is uninformed but not unintelligent. I am certain the human will learn of their origins and purpose when the opportunity presents itself. It would do them unnecessary to preemptively explain,” Gaster talks to his recorder. He is right in front of Frisk now. He moves the hand with the recorder away from his skeletal jaw. He leans down to brush his knuckles against her cheek. Frisk glares at Gaster. He grabs something beside her hair. When he pulls back, Frisk believes it is a feather made from Red magic. Gaster closes his fingers around it, making it dissipate. “Allow me to lead you to the door.”

Gaster’s spectral form swings around Frisk’s body. She turns with him. The door is right behind her now. One of Gaster’s skeletal hands rests on the gray doorknob. Another hand appears to touch Frisk’s forehead. As Gaster opens the door for her, revealing the hallway behind a fuzzy barrier, the skeletal finger draws a circle on her skin. Gaster moves to rest his body on top of the door, leaning over the side to stare at Frisk as she moves closer to the hallway. “I am curious what progress you will have, Carmine’s proxy.”

Frisk frowns. Any questions she wanted to ask her silenced when a hand pushes her through the door. Frisk stumbles across the threshold. When she whirls around in the hallway, she finds that the door is gone. Frisk presses her palms against the wall. She searches for the trick, but the door is simply gone. Frisk narrows her eyes at the blank wall.

“What are you doing?” Chara asks, appearing behind Frisk.

Frisk pushes her lips into a smile as she turns around. Frisk sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. “Nothing. Sorry. Let’s keep going, yeah?”

Chara raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t question Frisk’s odd behavior as she disappears back into her ghostly form. Frisk gives the bare wall one last look before trekking forward. She doesn’t know what that was about, but there isn’t any point dwelling on it. She probably won’t see Gaster ever again. While his words were interesting, they ultimately held no weight to her (at least, they don’t currently). Her mission to SAVE the Underground is more important.

—

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Frisk murmurs as she stares into the face of a divine being. The god of hyperdeath stares down at Frisk with sadistic amusement. The smile curling on his maw is particularly vicious as he raises his swords into the air. The thrum of magic around him nearly makes Frisk vomit. She probably would have if Chara didn’t have her hands on Frisk’s shoulders, caught between supporting her friend and staring at the disfigured form of her brother.

“Why can’t saving the Underground be easy?” Frisk murmurs, dropping her head into her hands. Chara pulls on Frisk’s shoulders suddenly. The teenager instinctively knows to leap backward. The ground where her feet once were is burned to a crisp in an instant. True to his title, the god of hyperdeath wants to finish this quickly. Frisk prepares herself for a fight against the face of a divine being. She’s already faced Boss Monsters. She might as well add a god to her repertoire of battles fought.

“You can do this, Frisk,” Chara promises. She moves to stand beside Frisk. Chara hovers off the ground, but she’s close enough that Frisk feels like she’s fighting side-by-side with the ghost. This is an ultimately empty thought since Chara cannot do anything to help other than lessen the strain of magical energy. Regardless, Frisk derives a lot of comfort from this pleasant illusion. Frisk knows that she can do anything as long as Chara is at her side, especially when she knows how hard it is for Chara to be here right now— both because of the magical energy trying to reject her and the god of hyperdeath wearing Asriel’s face. If Chara can stand here when both physical and emotional forces are pushing her away, Frisk can stand here, too.

“Let’s save the Underground… Our family… our friends… the SOULs. Everyone,” Frisk declares, lifting her fist towards the god of hyperdeath. She actually hears him laugh at her as he pauses his onslaught of attacks. Frisk snarls, but she keeps her temper steady. There is no use in getting angry now. That will lead to irrationality, and Frisk is trying to save everyone— not damn them all because she’s upset the god of hyperdeath doesn’t see value in her pursuit for life.

“The promise you made fills you with DETERMINATION.”

—

Frisk lies flat on her back. She stares upward, eyes searching casually for a ceiling that doesn’t exist. The Barrier doesn’t have a beginning or an end. It is a continuous loop that stretches toward infinity and eternity. Yet, somehow, she is watching that infinity and eternity break apart. Gray-white shards crash into the ground all around her. Frisk barely misses getting pummeled by them, but she’s already covered in so much blood that she wonders what difference it would make. Frisk releases a shuddering breath, blood spilling out the side of her lips. Her heart moves sluggishly in her chest. Her ribs are a distant ache, and her muscles are held together by searing heat. She feels so close to death, yet she clings stubbornly to life. Black spots dance in her vision, but she focuses on the color starting to burst into the room.

Since her body is in such disrepair, it should come as no surprise that her mind is not at its best, either. Her thoughts barely come and go— only sensations she recognizes to some extent. But eventually, she does realize that she is hearing sounds. More than the shards crashing into the ground as the magic crumples because of an equal but opposite force, there are whispers that Frisk cannot decipher no matter how hard she tries. At least, at first, she doesn’t understand them. With focus comes both pain and clarity, like they cannot exist without each other.

The SOULs are with her. They float around her in a loose circle. Their hearts are most prominent with their designated colors outlining vague forms filled with translucent darkness. They resemble humans, but Frisk knows they are still creatures of HATE. They are yelling at each other and berating here. As Frisk focuses on each individual, she understands that they are also fighting their true selves. The remnants of the person they once were are clashing with what the HATE is trying to mold them into. It is going to be a tough battle for each of them, and Frisk, for one, doesn’t know if victory is even possible.

Frisk pushes herself onto her elbows. The distant, hollow pain suddenly rises to the surface. Frisk cries out, a loud and thunderous noise. Frisk, however, does not take this cry as her body warning her to stop. She continues moving, dragging herself onto her feet. She nearly slips on her own blood. Frisk steadies her feet, bracing her hands in front of her to maintain balance. She looks around at the eidolons of the SOULs and HATE. Some of them are looking at her, whispering to themselves. Others are too caught up with their internal arguments to pay attention to her.

Frisk looks at each one of them. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do. Should she give them a motivational speech that will give them the courage to move on? Frisk doesn’t think that will work. She isn’t a good talker. Even if she was, she isn’t sure this is a problem that can be solved by words alone. Frisk has proof that her will isn’t strong enough to stop HATE, so how could the other Traits fare better? Frisk knows they won’t be able to. The thought alone makes her heart heavy. She doesn’t know what to do. This isn’t as simple as fighting the Boss Monsters, or breaking her friends free from the god of hyperdeath’s control, or even breaking the Barrier. Hell, none of those tasks were ‘simple,’ only straightforward. This isn’t simple or straightforward. Frisk is not only out of her depth, but she doesn’t know anyone whose depth this would be. 

“Frisk,” One voice in particular draws Frisk out of her thoughts. She looks over her shoulder. Chara is standing a few feet away from her. Unlike the others, her heart is not visible. She doesn’t have a colored outline. Her form is made from colors even if she shares the same translucent quality as the others. Chara looks tired, but there is a smile on her face. Chara crosses the distance between her and Frisk. She puts her hand on Frisk’s cheek. For the first time, her hands feel warm, as if she were alive. Frisk leans into the touch, ignoring how she’s letting Chara feel her blood and spit.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. You did what I’ve always wanted to do. You SAVED everyone in the Underground. You’ve given them their freedom. You even SAVED Asriel,” Chara whispers. Her dark eyes remain on Frisk, all of her attention devoted to the living human right in front of her. Chara sighs so heavily that Frisk thinks that this is the closest she will ever get to seeing Chara cry. Frisk’s heart pangs with the idea. She reaches her hand to touch Chara’s cheek. The ghost takes another step forward, brushing her forehead against Frisk’s forehead. “You’ve done your duty as a savior. I’ll take it from here. Let me make up for everything I’ve done. You don’t have to grieve for me… But I hope you won’t forget me.”

“Grieve?” Frisk mumbles. Chara doesn’t say anything else as she takes a step away from Frisk. Chara stands in the center of the SOULs. The eidolons grow restlessly silent as they watch Chara. The ghost turns around to give Frisk one last smile. Chara stretches her hands out. As her hands grow closer to her chest, the darkness shoots out of the eidolons to form into a shape in front of Chara’s spectral form. The eidolons make various noises of dissent or pain as Chara absorbs the HATE. Frisk reaches forward with a command to stop on her tongue, but she drops onto her knees from pain. Frisk focuses on her DETERMINATION to fuel her body, but there’s only so much magic can do to combat physical weakness.

“See you next time, partner,” Chara whispers as her ghostly form is swallowed by the blackness. The eidolons are dissipating, leaving behind purified SOUL hearts. Frisk’s eyes fill with tears as she scrambles forward. She’s too late, though. The eidolons are gone. Chara is gone. The resounding explosion knocks Frisk back, and she’s unconscious before her body even settles on the ground.

—

Frisk wasn’t in pain anymore. Her body was healed. It could have been a miracle. It could have been an excess of magic in the air. It didn’t really matter, not to her, anyway. She felt fine in one way, but her heart was heavy and her grief was palpable. She walks through the Underground alone, separating herself from the others. The Monsters are celebrating their freedom, and their savior who granted that freedom wonders why she feels so miserable despite her good deeds (she knows why she feels miserable. She sees Chara’s smile every time she closes her eyes. The wound is fresh and deep, and Frisk keeps shoving her fingers into it as if pulling her skin apart will somehow heal it).

She couldn’t say if it was on purpose or by accident, but she ends up where everything started. Someone is standing there. They aren’t waiting for her, exactly, but they don’t seem all that surprised when Frisk stands at the edges of their peripheral vision.

"Don't worry about me. Someone has to take care of the flowers..." Asriel said with a sigh, eyes closing for a moment. He looked like he wanted to cry, and Frisk felt the same way. A dull ache had settled in her bones, taking refuge in her SOUL. She wanted to sleep, but Frisk knew that she couldn't. This is an opportunity to speak with Asriel. Frisk never had the chance to before. She was here now. Her death would be soon. She wanted to hear Asriel's words. 

Frisk reached for his arm, but he turned away, growing more fragile. "Frisk, please leave me alone. I can't come back." 

Frisk recalls everything Flowey had done. That SOUL-less creature was the one to hold the power to RESET before Frisk. Sans hated Flowey, and most of the Underground would if they ever learned the truth. Frisk and Asriel were in the same boat in that way. The mistakes of their past would haunt them. Frisk tries reaching for Asriel again (she doesn’t even know why. She supposes she just wants to feel him. She wants to prove that he isn’t a ghost… Or maybe that he is. Would it make her feel better to know that he wasn’t? Or is she hoping that he is?)

"I just can't, OK? I don't want to break their hearts all over again. It's better if they never see me," Asriel whispers. Frisk thinks about that. What if she stayed down here with Asriel? It wouldn't be a grand or adventurous life, but Frisk believes she could be content. Frisk and Asriel were both individuals ashamed of their past sins, even though they weren't directly responsible for them. Frisk couldn't stay with Toriel. She wouldn't be able to look anyone in the eyes. Between the sins she’s committed and the ghost who guided her yet is no longer here, Frisk doesn’t want to be with the others anymore. She can’t, not without the pain of it all consuming her.  It was better to stay in the Underground. Some monsters deserved to stay down there. 

"... why are you still here? Are you trying to keep me company? Frisk..." Asriel sounded unsure of himself. His words were heavy. Frisk wanted to comfort him, but she knew that only Chara could do that. The thought makes Frisk tear up again. And here she thought she was all out of tears to shed. "Hey. Let me ask you a question. Frisk... why did you come here?"

Frisk remains silent. 

"Everyone knows the legend, right...? 'Travelers who climb Mt. Ebott is said to disappear...." Asriel continues the statement when Frisk didn't reply. Frisk was afraid to look at Asriel. "Why would you ever climb a mountain like that?"

Frisk sucks in a tight breath. No one had asked her that. Chara might have suspected it— maybe even Sans— but no one else seemed bothered that a teenager had fallen into a mountain. It didn't help that no one was coming to Frisk's rescue. 

"Was it foolishness?" 

Toriel and Mettaton probably thought that was it. They saw Frisk as a silly, blubbering mess that could have easily hiked a mountain only to slip into the realm hidden beneath the Surface. 

"Was it fate?"

Asgore and Undyne saw it as fate. Why else would Humans fall? It was because of karma. The universe was repaying the Monsters for their diligence by making a means to escape. Asgore could have absorbed the one SOUL to ask for assistance, but most knew that never would have worked. Manually breaking the Barrier was needed.

"Or was it..."

Papyrus and Alphys probably thought Frisk fell down to meet the Monsters. That suspicion was genuine curiosity about creatures long since made into fables that drove Frisk to explore an area that would be deemed unsafe. 

"Because you..." Asriel cuts himself off. Frisk is grateful. She doesn’t want to hear what else he has to say about the matter.

"Well... only you know the answer, don't you...? I know why Chara climbed the mountain. It wasn't for a very happy reason," Asriel laughed bitterly. "Frisk. I'll be honest with you. Chara hated humanity. Why they did, they never talked about. But they felt very strongly about that."

Frisk could agree. Chara would go on long rants about things she hated, but she grew silent with a deadly aura when Humanity was mentioned. Frisk and Chara never spoke about their lives before the Fall. It was a taboo subject. Remnants of that time existed, and eyebrows were often raised, but they didn't dare ask one another about the truth. 

"Frisk... you really ARE different from Chara. In fact, though you have similar, uh, fashion choices..." Asriel gestures to her blue-and-purple sweater. "I don't know why I ever acted as if you were the same person. Maybe... the truth is... Chara wasn't really the greatest person."

Frisk wanted to argue. Chara was there for Frisk despite everything the human had done. More than that, Chara was everything to the human. In the end, Chara was a hero. Frisk SAVED the Underground. Chara SAVED the Fallen Humans. Without Chara, Frisk wouldn’t have been able to do anything. She would have stayed with Toriel or found freedom without ever caring about the monsters. It was Chara’s love for them that gave Frisk the strength to SAVE them.

"While, Frisk... you're the type of friend I wish I always had." 

Wasn't that a lie? Frisk wasn't a good person, let alone a good friend. Chara cared more about Asriel than Frisk could ever force herself to. Asriel had no idea what he was talking about. He just knew that Frisk didn't like fighting. What more was there, anyways? Frisk wasn't interesting. Not by herself. With Chara, she was a fine person, but otherwise— alone— she was a blubbering mess of an individual. One destined to die. 

"So maybe I was projecting a little bit. Let's be honest. I did some weird stuff as a flower," Asriel laughs bitterly again. "There's one last thing I wanted to tell you. Frisk, when Chara and I combined our SOULs together... The control over our body was actually split between us. They were the one that picked up their own empty body, and then, when we got to the village... they were the one that wanted... to use our full power. I was the one that resisted. And then, because of me, we..." 

Frisk wants to hug Asriel, but he wouldn't allow it. And Frisk doubts it would be anything more than cold comfort coming from her. "Well, that's why I ended up a flower. Frisk... this whole time, I've blamed myself for that decision. That's why I adopted that horrible view of the world. 'Kill or be Killed.' But now, after meeting you... Frisk, I don't regret that decision anymore. I did the right thing. If I killed those humans... we would have to wage war against all of Humanity."

Frisk nods along. 

"And, in the end, everyone went free, right? I still feel kind of sad knowing how long it took... so maybe it wasn't a perfect decision. But you can't regret hard choices your whole life, right? Well, not that I have much of a life left," Asriel sighs. "But that's beside the point. Frisk, thank you for listening to me. You should really go be with your friends now, OK? Oh, and please... in the future, if you uh, see me... don't think of it as me, OK?  I just want you to remember me like this. Someone that was your friend for a little while."

Frisk didn't want to say goodbye. Would Asriel turn back into Flowey? Frisk wouldn't allow that. Asriel hated Flowey— hated what he stood for. Frisk promised to SAVE everyone. Flowey was safer if he wasn't around. 

"Oh, and Frisk... be careful in the outside world, OK? Despite what everyone thinks, it's not as nice as it is here. There are a lot of Floweys out there. And not everything can be resolved by just being nice," Asriel warns Frisk. "Don't kill and don't be killed, alright? That's the best you can strive for. Well, see you, Frisk."

The teenager stays put. Asriel keeps going on about how Frisk should leave, but she falls onto her back in the golden flowers, just like when she fell. Frisk allows her breathing to slow down. Her mind's mugginess starts clearing out as she inhales the floral smells. Frisk feels her eyes flutter. The dull ache in her bones has become a gravity that pulls her down. Should a heartbeat be that slow? "I'm tired..."

"No! Frisk!" Asriel yells, but it was as if he spoke underwater. The ringing Frisk heard from earlier was getting louder and overpowering her. Her consciousness was slipping out of her hands like sand. She vaguely feels Asriel fretting around her, but she doesn’t care enough to see what he’s doing. Frisk doesn’t feel alone or miserable, but she’s dying even still. Frisk knows this will be permanent. The RESET button is broken. If she dies, she dies completely and without fail. 

Asriel’s fingers brush against Frisk's cheek. She peeks her eyes open to see his worried expression. Why did he care? The Monsters were free, wasn't that enough? Couldn't Frisk die in peace? She, at least, deserved that, didn't she?

But maybe it wasn’t a matter of ‘deserving’ rest or peace or even death. Chara and the other Fallen Humans would want her to live. It would be selfish of Frisk to forsake their wishes. She knows, at least, she wouldn’t be able to face Chara in the afterlife if she died right now. Chara was going to want to hear so many stories about Frisk’s life, after all. Frisk was going to have a million to tell— Chara can wait and see.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'm awake. Asriel... I'm not leaving without you. Say what you will, make any excuse. I'm not leaving you," Frisk says, batting away the worries that float around the two of them. "Let's go, Asriel. There isn't time to argue."

Reluctantly, Asriel follows Frisk as they travel through the Ruins. He is silent, hesitant, and mostly withdrawn, but at least he is moving. Frisk needs to reunite Asriel with his parents. It was one more person that she could SAVE. The others are enjoying the Surface so far, but it is up to Frisk to give Asriel the same gift (Chara will appreciate hearing that Frisk has done this for the brother she wasn’t able to say goodbye to or apologize for hurting). 

"Red!" Someone yells. Frisk stops in her tracks when she recognizes the voice. At the end of the Ruins, Diana Odessa stands there, completely solid and without an ethereal glow. Her blonde hair is tied back with ribbons, and she wears a knee-length, simply-designed blue dress. She holds her toy knife. She grabs Frisk's hand with a jubilant smile. "Look! Look! I'm here, Red! Isn't this exciting?"

Frisk wraps her arms around Diana. She is unusually cold as Frisk brushes her nose against the sleeve of Diana’s dress. The two share a long hug while Asriel does a double take. When Frisk pulls away, Diana is giving her a bright smile twinged with disbelief. Diana pulls away to spin around in the ruins, kicking up dust and ashes. Frisk realizes now that Diana isn’t human— not exactly. There are artificial joints around her limbs as if she were a doll. Diana doesn’t seem to notice them, but they’re all Frisk can look at.

"I can't believe it..." Frisk mutters. Frisk grabs hold of Diana’s hand. The younger girl lets Frisk hold tightly onto her as they travel to Snowdin. The walk doesn’t take long since there isn’t anyone to stop them. Frisk and Asriel keep sharing looks with each other. Diana is more concerned with relearning what it feels like to exist in a solid form again to think about why she’s in such a form. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but Frisk’s mouth falls open when she sees Alexander Everett leaning against a tree. The snow around him is melting rapidly. Frisk doesn’t get a second to question why. Sparks weave in and out of the hair growing from his scalp. Parts of his skin are replaced with bubbling magma, halfway to cooling into black ashes or obsidian. His eyes, especially, are a glowing orange like they are ready to explode from a volcano’s opening. He grins expectantly at Frisk and Diana, "I guess I'm here, too. This is kind of exciting. I bet the others are alive!" 

Alex slides next to Asriel. He reaches his hand to introduce himself. Asriel still seems very confused as he takes the hand. This was something strange and new in a Timeline. Flowey probably couldn’t have predicted this outcome. Frisk knows she couldn't. What brought them all back to life? When Frisk SAVED everyone, did she have enough DETERMINATION to utilize the lost SOULs of the Fallen Humans, bringing them back to life? Or did Chara’s sacrifice do something to help them?

Everyone was there. 

Natalia Drosselmayer was waiting in Waterfall. When they saw her, she was running her fingers through a gray-black fox tail growing from her behind. A pair of fox ears coming from her scalp pin down when she notices the others approaching her. She wrings her hands nervously while smiling kindly at them. Her fingertips are stained black, and there are some fur patches growing from her forearms. Her tail wags behind her as she joins the group.

Ellis Katharos has flowers growing from his hair. Moss clings to his skin and a few vines hang from his limbs, wrapping around him protectively. He bounds over to them immediately when he sees them. He hugs each of them— even Asriel. When he’s finished, he’s growing flowers from his fingertips to set on their heads. He joins them on their journey to the Surface.

Rainer Bergfalk has feathers growing around his ears. The front two strands of his hair have been dyed dirty white. His irises have expanded to fill his entire sclera, leaving his black pupil swimming in a sea of purple. The most interesting part of his transformation involves the owl wings stretching from his back. They drag on the ground until he forcibly sets them on his shoulders to keep the feathers from collecting grime from the capital city’s dirty streets. 

Clover Lucian tilts the brim of his cowboy hat upward when they enter the Judgment Hall. His sclera has darkened into a deep blue-black, making the neon yellow of his irises stand out. Stars form glittering freckles on his cheeks. His hands are stained with a nebulous night sky that moves to reveal different stars, galaxies, and planets as he moves over to them. His thick clothing hides any other changes that his body underwent because of his revival. 

As Frisk listens to them quietly conversing with each other, she learns that they remember their childhoods on the Surface. They remember what it was to be filled with HATE, guiding Frisk through a section of the Underground and pushing her to commit atrocities. They even remember their deaths and experiences in the Underground during their lives. They don’t, however, know why they are alive or why they have physical traits that mark them as something other than human yet not quite monster. 

They all climb towards the cliffside where the Underground meets the Surface in New Home. Frisk pulls Diana onto the ledge, letting the girl brace her arms on Frisk. She smiles at the doll-like girl. Bethany's face brightens when she sees the sunset. She turns Frisk around so she can see it, too. The golden sun has sunken halfway beneath the horizon, casting reds and golds to meet the purples and blues of the night sky. Frisk tries to remember the last time she saw such a beautiful sunset (she doesn’t come up with anything. It’s been too long).

"Asriel!" Frisk stops. She knows that voice. Tears fill her eyes as she searches in the distance for who could be playing such a cruel prank on her. 

Down below, the Monsters had collected for a headcount. Toriel was in tears because she was clutching onto Chara. She was... alive. Frisk can hardly breathe as she registers that Chara is alive. Sure, there are horns growing from her brown hair and white fur on her forearms reminiscing the monsters around her, but she was alive. Her body was solid. Chara runs up the mountain, nearly tackling Asriel back into the Underground. Asriel is shocked as he holds his sister, tears racing down his face. Frisk reaches a hand out, hesitant to touch. When Chara pulls her face away from Asriel’s shoulder, she immediately turns to wrap her arms around Frisk’s waist. Chara pulls Frisk close, and for the first time since they’ve encountered each other, they can properly hug. Frisk sobs openly, soaking in Chara’s warmth— something she never thought she would get to feel.

When Chara pulls away, she reaches out to grab Asriel and Frisk’s hands. The latter are both in tears. Chara laughs quietly at them. She makes a noise that causes Asriel to react. Frisk doesn’t get it, but she assumes it might have something to do with Chara’s sudden goat-like features. Maybe for Frisk’s sake, Chara says with more fondness than belittlement, “You two are such crybabies.”

Asriel glares weakly at his sister. Frisk laughs. She doesn’t mind being called a mean name as long as Chara is alive to call her that.

"Asriel?" Toriel repeats. She hurries over to them. She grabs her children in a sweeping hug. She doesn’t even complain when Asgore joins the hug. They were all caught up in so many emotions they didn't notice the Fallen Humans. 

"A-ah! H-Humans!" Alphys points out, raising a reptilian finger towards the Fallen Humans. Each human gives their own version of a wave, something to acknowledge the fact they have been spotted. Most attention was directed to them, and Frisk squirms underneath the pressure. 

"I may have SAVED more people than I intended to... oops?" Frisk says sheepishly.

Chapter Text

The monsters immediately start helping each other evacuate the hollow interior of the mountain onto the mountain’s side. King Asgore, obviously, leads the charge by directing his subordinates and other powerful members of the society. Toriel is right there with him. Despite the awkwardness hanging around them, they manage to set aside their differences for long enough to organize the support network. Undyne carries out each other without a complaint. Papyrus is right there with her even though he is given arguably easier tasks that he still manages to mess up on occasion. His determination and enthusiasm sees him through, however, so no one can fault him when they bring a smile to their faces. Sans, in contrast, hovers around the edges, telling jokes to anyone that comes a little too close and teleporting people or objects on occasion when Asgore pointedly looks at him. The king has already started Alphys on some project or another that Mettaton is most likely helping out with even though it looks like they’re distracting Alphys.

There are other monsters providing additional support, though. They are monsters Frisk has never seen before. A star-shaped monster who resembles a sheriff is directing a merry band of ‘deputies,’ and he’s taking all of his orders from a fox-shaped monster. A bird-shaped monster is quick to assist them with a bright smile on her beak, and she encourages a purple-skinned vampire to participate. Frisk recognizes MK, but the people he’s hanging around including a reindeer-shaped monster and purple dinosaur are unfamiliar to her. Of course, a lot of the monster population is unknown to Frisk. She went though many zones and encountered many monsters, but it seems the kingdom was far larger than she gave it credit for being.

Frisk says this as someone passively observing from the side. She knows that she should be part of the crowd, helping everyone out at best she can. She knows this, yet she can’t get her feet to move. She remains on the fringes. She stares at everyone, letting her deep red eyes observe everyone without fearing someone else making eye contact with her. Those monsters all show gratitude when she catches their eye, but it often morphs into something else. Often, it might be some reservation since they don’t know how to treat her and she isn’t helping them right now. Frisk, frankly, doesn’t care too much about how they view her since nothing can be worse than the anger and fear they displayed when the HATE was corrupting her.

Additionally, Frisk has an excuse if anyone bothered to ask her. They probably don’t since it becomes a little obvious when they look at Frisk’s surroundings. She isn’t alone on the edges of the crowd. The other ‘undeads,’ so to speak, are sitting on the ground in a loose circle. They are all quiet and contemplative. Some fidget (like Alex), but there isn’t any conversation. Chara and Asriel sit together at the feet of a dog guard assigned to them by Asgore and Toriel the moment they realize the mass exodus out of the mountain would require all of their attention— not leaving anything for the siblings. Diana kneels near the tree-line, flipping her toy knife in her hand. Alex lies on his back in the grass a few feet away from her, tapping his foot and fingers incessantly. Natalia holds her thighs against her chest as she leans against a rock Rainer is sitting on. Clover leans against a tree, and Ellis sits across from him, eyes glancing over at everyone as if he wants to talk to them. Frisk stands vigil between them and the monsters as if something was going to happen.

Something could happen, honestly. Frisk doesn’t know what public sentiment on either side is. Do the humans reset the monsters for killing them? Do the monsters still hold enough prejudice to want to kill the humans again? Frisk doesn’t know which species she is meant to side with. She might have to act as a buffer between the two. Frisk really doesn’t want that. She is generally a friendly person, but she isn’t a particularly good peacekeeper.

“Red,” A voice calls out. Frisk glances over her shoulder. Rainer is standing on the rock. He turns away from her to stare down the mountain. He wears an apathetic frown on his face. His owl wings flutter behind him, giving away his emotions. Frisk walks over to him and Natalia. She hops onto the rock beside him. Natalia stretches her legs out to look up at Frisk and Rainer as the balance on the rock. Frisk bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from cursing when she sees what Rainer got her attention for.

Frisk leaps down from the rock. Rainer jumps down beside her. He is off-balance for a moment because of his wings, but they eventually stretch out to recalibrate. Rainer gives the new appendages a disdainful glance. Frisk nudges his side. Rainer straightens immediately. Frisk and Rainer stand between the monsters and the armored vehicle driving up the mountain. The monsters are starting to notice the car. The humans (or hybrids, maybe) notice, too, and they shift closer together. Unfortunately, they also get closer to Frisk and Rainer.

The passenger side door of the vehicle opens. One person steps outside with a tablet beneath her arm. The woman has black hair pulled tightly into a high ponytail. Her eyes are covered with a pair of regulation sunglasses. She removes them quickly, letting everyone see a pair of blistering blue irises. She folds the sunglasses, putting them on the collar of her military-issued uniform. The patches on her jacket and sleeves prove that she is of high-ranking. She proves this when she walks toward them without any hesitation. Her confidence is measured as if earned and tested. Her attention lands on Frisk and Rainer. Her body language and expression do not change other than a slight narrowing of her eyes to show her confusion and recognition.

Side by side, Frisk and Rainer get into position. Both hands tuck behind their backs (a slight struggle for Rainer considering his wings). They stand upright and tall while avoiding making eye contact with the woman. At the same time, the two say, “Commander.”

Commander Delphine Adamos of Ebott City moves a gloved hand toward the two. Frisk feels her SOUL jolt in her body. Adamos materializes Frisk and Rainer’s stat screens. She reads over them quickly. A tiny frown appears on her face. Frisk tries to read her own stat screen even though it is backwards for her. Frisk squints with effort. She sees her name on one line. She sees her Trait (DETERMINATION). She sees her species (Human). She sees her status including her current HP, MP, and ATK. Underneath that, however, Frisk can also see her skills. Frisk hasn’t seen them in a while, so it seems spending time in the Underground has given her a few more. She already mastered basic magic, so that wasn’t anything to look at, but she now has specialized magic. There is even an origin magic, but Adamos dismisses the stat screen before Frisk can figure out the words— much to her disappointment. Frisk has been pressured into awakening her origin for so long that she’s naturally grown curious what it would turn out to be.

“Cadet. Give me your report,” Adamos says, turning to face Frisk directly. She moves her tablet out from underneath her arm into the crook of her elbow. She taps across the screen, waiting for Frisk to start speaking now that she has been given permission to.

“Yes, commander. As you know, the cadets are given some time away from the academy every few weeks. I went with some of my classmates to Mt. Ebott. I got separated from the group. I fell into a hole in the mountain. When I was traversing the Underground, I encountered a species known collectively as monsters. I played an active role in breaking the barrier keeping them in the Underground,” Frisk answers.

Adamos eyes Frisk for a moment longer. Frisk feels magic surge through her body. Adamos has an INTEGRITY SOUL. As a commander in the military, it is obvious she has access to many of the specialized magic that Blues have including the most famous one: lie detection. Frisk tells herself to get used to the feeling. Adamos is going to check everything Frisk has to say from this moment forward. At least Frisk didn’t lie right from the start. Now, how does she work around the truth for the following questions Adamos is going to ask?

“You. Rainer Bergfalk. You were reported dead several years ago. Your status window says that you are a hybrid, not a human as your file suggests,” Adamos speaks, turning her attention away from Frisk to Rainer.

“Yes, commander. A few years ago, I was traveling from my family home to the academy for my spring semester for my fifth year. The transport I was using was attacked. I fell into the same hole Red— er, Frisk fell through. I also went through the Underground… I have a smaller part to play with the barrier breaking. My current status as a hybrid is unknown to me, but I believe it might be due to my body absorbing the magic of the monsters,” Rainer answers. Frisk notices Rainer pointedly didn’t mention that he was dead. Frisk supposes that’s for the best. There is going to be enough problems between the humans and monsters without the humans learning that the monsters killed human children to gain their freedom.

“I see. I presume this happened to the other hybrids behind you. I do not recognize any of them. They must not be students of the academy.” Adamos’ eyes move to the others behind Frisk and Rainer. She marks down the information that there were more children than academy students who went to the Underground. She also stares a second longer at Asriel than anyone else. There isn’t any emotion in her eyes, though. She is completely observant with no underlying opinions clouding her judgment.

Adamos looks back at Frisk and Rainer. “I came after receiving a report about a surge in magical energy in this area. I presume it was the barrier breaking. It will be difficult to determine the environmental damages sustained until we start running tests. That, however, must come after we deal with the monsters. Considering the large number of them gathering, it must be their intention to stay above ground rather than returning to the Underground. This puts us in a tricky situation. Since they came from the mountain, they are under the jurisdiction of the city. As the first one to respond, the military will handle these matters as we see it until we are given orders from the council.”

Adamos looks over her shoulder at the armored vehicle. She calls out, “Lieutenant Creed.”

The driver’s side door opens. A man steps outside and closes the door behind him. He rounds the vehicle to look at his superior. “Commander.”

“We will be treating the monsters as refugees. The young, old, and sickly will be transported to the facilities. Every able-bodied monster will be given tents to temporarily live on the mountainside. We will work on establishing temporary homes tomorrow at dawn. I will personally assemble the crew in charge of that. You will convey my orders to headquarters. Then, you will write a full report to the council. I want it sent no later than 1200 hours. Am I understood, Creed?”

“Yes, commander,” Creed answers. He moves to the very back of the armored vehicle. He opens the latch to start typing away on some machines built into the trunk.

While he is busy with that, Adamos turns back to Frisk and Rainer. “Take me to the monster in charge of the rest. I will speak with them about the actions that must be taken moving forward.”

“Yes, commander,” The two say at the same time. When Frisk turns around, she notices that the others have gotten even closer. Asriel is holding onto Chara’s arm to keep the girl from acting. Chara’s eyes seem even darker as she stares at Adamos. The others aren’t any more trustful. The monsters, who have mostly stopped doing whatever they were doing before to look at the approaching humans, are especially resistant to a human being in their midst. Their savior’s familiarity with the woman does little to ease their suffering (unless Frisk’s status as a savior is already losing power. It’s for the best, she thinks).

Frisk and Rainer don’t need to go far. Asgore and Toriel come to meet Adamos in the strip of land between the monsters and hybrids. Rainer stands behind the commander, so Frisk follows his lead. Adamos lifts her hand to the space between the king and his estranged partner. “My name is Delphine Adamos, a commander of Ebott Military Academy and general in the Ebott military. For the moment, I will be the liaison between monsters and the Ebott City Council.”

Asgore and Toriel share a look. In the end, Asgore takes her hand. He shakes it. Adamos shows no reaction to touching a monster, even if there is a pair of gloves separating her skin and his fur. “I am King Asgore Dreemurr of the monsters. This is… Toriel Dreemurr. I am looking forward to working together with you to establish harmony between monsters and humans.”

“Yes. Peace is the ultimate goal of the military. The city council will surely come to the right decision. Since the military were the ones to respond first to this, we are automatically in charge until other orders supersede mine. I have chosen to treat monsters as refugees. We have facilities prepared near the main city that are used to house refugees. Unfortunately, the size is inadequate. I suggest that the young, old, and sickly are gathered so that we might escort them there. The military will supply resources for everyone else to remain on the mountainside for the time being. Temporary homes will be made starting tomorrow. Beyond that point, the city council will have already been put in charge. They will handle whatever happens from there. If there is anything more you would like to discuss, we may do it here, at my office in the academy, or at the bureau in the city.”

Asgore and Toriel share a look. No words are spoken, but it feels like an entire conversation happened within the spans of a few tense seconds. Toriel speaks on Asgore’s behalf, “We will speak here. There are many details we must iron out.”

“Of course. Before we do, there is one matter we must attend to at present. Cadets,” Adamos agrees. She shifts to the side to look at the cadets without turning her back on Asgore and Toriel. “You and the other hybrids are to report immediately to the Institute of Supernatural Sciences. If Cadet Bergfalk’s conjecture that his hybrid status is a product of absorbing monster magic is true, you will need to be thoroughly checked for any lasting health effects. If it is not true, it would be beneficial to know exactly why you have these traits. The institute will have information in their archives.”

There are several reactions to these words that happen at the same time. Frisk shoots the commander a questioning look because she isn’t a hybrid— she’s still human. Chara audibly rejects going, and Asriel asks her to stay calm. Although less than Chara, the other hybrids are varying levels of uncomfortable and unhappy. Asgore and Toriel even have an opinion on it, but that might only be because Chara is a hybrid that is getting sent away. Adamos is silent as everyone has their reactions. When they fall silent, she takes her moment to speak. “I believe I understand a majority of the problems. Unfortunately, my stance remains unchanged. Monster and human magic have never been known to mix well. It might not be stable in these immature bodies. I cannot take that chance since it will most likely kill the children and cause collateral damage. If absolutely necessary, a monster escort may be sent with Lieutenant Creed.”

“I’m going, too,” Asriel inputs, reaching for Frisk’s shoulder since he already has an arm around Chara’s shoulder. Frisk allows herself to be pulled back. She doesn’t know if he’s trying to hide himself from his parents or the commander, but it hardly works in the former case. Adamos nods at him. Asgore and Toriel definitely do not. Frisk listens to the argument there.

Eventually, however, everyone goes along with Adamos’ plan since it is the objectively safest option. The hybrids (plus Frisk and Asriel) wait for a small bus to come pick them up. It will be coming with the other supplies, apparently. The commander pulls Frisk aside for a moment right as the vehicles are driving on the mountain roads. Adamos’ face is apathetic as it always is, but there is something raw in her eyes that Frisk doesn’t want to pick apart. “I am… glad you are alive.”

“Thanks, commander,” Frisk answers.

Adamos looks away from Frisk, gazing at the monsters as they sort themselves into the groups going to the facilities and those staying on the mountain. “I meant that as your mother, not your commander.”

Frisk looks away, too, even though she knows Adamos won’t make eye contact with her. She notices the other hybrids loading onto the bus. Chara is looking at Frisk and Adamos with a strange expression on her face. Frisk shuffles a few steps closer to her friend. Before she’s completely out of earshot, she whispers, “Thanks, Mom.”

Frisk completely walks away after that. Chara’s expression shifts away from Frisk to glare at Adamos as the commander goes to speak with Asgore and Toriel as she promised she would. Frisk grabs Chara’s hand, tugging the girl on the bus behind her. Frisk slides into the seat across the aisle from the one Asriel chose. Despite the circumstances, he seems very excited. Chara is less excited as she takes the spot next to him. Frisk glances out the window. She can already tell this is going to be a rough next couple of days. 

Chapter Text

Frisk stands in a cold room with far white walls and several squares in the ceiling providing light. She crosses her arms over her chest as she traces the faint patterns carved into the ceiling tiles unobscured by the light. Beside her, Chara is tugging at the collar of her new outfit. Chara’s elbow accidentally bumps into Frisk’s shoulder. She whispers an apology, but Frisk doubts Chara is truly paying attention to her surroundings right now. Frisk snorts under her breath. She turns her head to the side to look at Chara’s half-pissed expression. The other Fallen Humans are standing in a line on the other side of Chara. Rainer looks bored. Natalia holds her hands over her chest while breathing with her eyes closed. Clover stares at his reflection in the one-way glass with a hardened gaze. Ellis is trying to keep Clover and Alex— who is stretching his limbs in preparation for a fight— from freaking out. Diana, at the other end, tries to remain her composure with everything happening around her. They are all wearing gowns that look like they belong in a hospital, and they wear rings around their wrists and ankles to monitor their conditions.

Part of the wall beside the one-way glass suddenly pops out. It slides to the side, revealing a doorway. A figure hurries into the room. She drops dozens of papers, files, and books on the ground underneath the one-way mirror. She ignores how some of the resources disperse as she taps on the wall beside the doorway, showing a screen that isn’t visible when a hand isn’t pressed against it. The door slides shut, reforming back into the wall as if it was never there in the first place.

The woman claps her hands together as she whirls around. The ends of her lab coat stretch out, revealing a wrinkled shirt and a pair of sweatpants underneath. Most of the woman’s messy hair is pulled back into a bun with dozens of strands falling around her face to frame her warm skin and steely gray eyes. She smiles at them all with blazing excitement in her irises. “Hello! Hello! I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted to make sure I gathered everything I’m going to need for this. I wouldn’t want to suddenly leave you all in the middle of our testing!”

She hurries to stand right in front of them all. She spreads her arms wide and makes certain to make eye contact with each of them as she continues speaking. “First and foremost, allow me to introduce myself. I am Seraphina Ardant. I’m a doctor, a scientist, and a professor. I don’t really care what you call me. That isn’t important. What is important is that I am a graduate of Arcana University, and I spent a few years in the military. After doing all of this, I became a leading researcher and scientist in the soulology field. I have worked at the Institute of Supernatural Sciences for… years now. I’m responsible for a lot of breakthroughs. That’s why they called for me. If anyone can make sure that the magic inside of your bodies is stabilized, it will be me! And I know that all of this might be scary or confusing, but I want you to all know that my intentions are to help you. We’ll figure everything out together, yeah?”

She doesn’t get any enthusiastic responses, but Ardant doesn’t seem to need it. Her happiness overflows out of her with such power that even Frisk’s lips twitch with a smile. Ardant hurries back to her pile. She kneels onto the ground. She digs a clipboard out from the bottom. She grabs a pen from the inside of her lab coat. She clicks a few times as she speaks. “I was told to take roll before we start. Frisk… Oh, Frisk Adamos. I did not know that was possible. Anyway, are you here?”

“Here.”

“Chara—”

“Dreemurr.”

“Understood. I’ll get that fixed immediately. Diana Odessa?” 

“Present.”

“Alexander Everett?”

“Alex.”

“Good to know. Natalia Drosselmayer?”

“I’m here.”

“Rainer Bergfalk? Huh, didn’t you… Nevermind.”

“Present.”

“Ellis Katharos?”

“I’m right here.”

“Clover Lucian?”

“Here.”

“That is everyone! Thank you for correcting me if your name was incorrect. Like I said, I’ll get this list fixed as soon as I can. Now that everyone’s identities are established, let’s look at what kind of SOULs you have,” Ardant tells them. She rises to her feet with a tablet in the crook of her elbow. She taps away on it as she slides across the room. She stands directly in front of Frisk with a large smile on her face. She taps on the tablet. Suddenly, Frisk’s status screen appears in front of her body. Ardant looks over it, murmuring to herself as she reads the information out. “Frisk Adamos. Healthy LV, HP, and MP.  Trait: DETERMINATION. Huh, it says you were briefly SPITE. I’ll have to look into that. Species: Human. I was told you would be the only one. Basic Magic: Inventory, Spirit Weapon, SOUL reading, Passive Aura. All expected for a cadet. Specialized Magic: energy slash… death resistance, hmm… And self-regeneration. Ah, but the reports say you had all of these when you disappeared. You have an Origin Magic, now, though. It’s called Annihilation. We’ll have to test that out. Oh, and there’s something else here. A.. Miracle? I wonder what RESET is.”

Ardant moves from Frisk to Chara without further questioning RESET or Annihilation. Frisk should be concerned that someone knows about RESET, but she is stuck on her Origin Magic (often shortened to origin). Those were the abilities unique to an individual, independent of their Trait like Specialized Magic (or skills) is. Frisk has never had an origin before. The name ‘Annihilation’ doesn’t bode well, though.

“Chara Dreemurr. Your LV, HP, and MP are glitched for me. Ah, that explains it. Your Trait is HATE, formerly DETERMINATION. That is a story I’m going to need to hear. Species: Hybrid (Goat). I can see that. You have all the Basic Magic. Specialized Magic: taunt, HATE blasts, damage over time poison, and umbrakinesis. Origin Magic: Dragonfire. You really are a unique case, aren’t you, Miss Dreemurr? I’m going to enjoy figuring out how and why your body decided to change your Trait from DETERMINATION to HATE. This is unprecedented, I tell you. No one has ever had HATE as a Trait before.”

Ardant seems to be the type of person to take everything in stride because everyone else in the room is actively shocked by her assessment. Even Chara puts a hand over her chest as if she wants to know for certain that her SOUL bears the Trait of HATE rather than DETERMINATION like it always was.

“Rainer Bargfolk. Back to normal LV, HP, and MP. Trait: PERSEVERANCE, briefly INCESSANCY. I think I’m starting to understand how Chara got the Trait of HATE. Species: Hybrid (Owl). You also have all the Basic Magics. Specialized Magic: platform creation, damage over time status effect, self-regeneration, and geokinesis. You also have Origin Magic. It’s called Rationalization.

“Natalia Drosselmayer. No changes there. Trait: INTEGRITY, briefly INTRANSIGENCE. My hypothesis might actually be right. Species: Hybrid (Vixen). Basic Magic checks out. Specialized Magic: lie detection, reinforcement, gravity manipulation, and aerokinesis. Origin Magic: Afterimage.

“Clover Lucian. Same as everyone else. Trait: JUSTICE, briefly VENGEANCE. Species: Hybrid (Starling). Basic magic, yes… Specialized Magic: energy breams, intention gauging, karma trigger, electrokinesis. Origin Magic: Illumination.

“Ellis Katharos. The pattern is the same. Trait: KINDNESS, briefly ABJECTION. Species: Hybrid (Dryad). Basic magic… Specialized Magic: summoning, defensive boost, healing, agrokinesis. Origin Magic: Paragon.

“Alexander ‘Alex’ Everett. You have a slightly higher LV, but that’s natural given your Trait is BRAVERY. It was briefly RASHNESS, which isn’t a surprise at this point. Status: Hybrid (Lava). Basic magic is there… Specialized Magic: Damage mitigation, berserk, explosion, pyrokinesis… and pain resistance. Origin Magic: Obsidian.

“Diana Odessa. Same as everyone but Chara and Alex. Trait: PATIENCE, briefly TOLERANCE. Status: Hybrid (Automaton). Basic magic… Specialized Magic: traps, presence concealment, tranquility, cryokinesis. Origin Magic: Conveyance.”

Ardant moves away from the group. She returns to her pile. She flops onto her butt on the ground as she brings a journal in her lap. She flips it open until she finds a page that isn’t entirely covered in her scrawling handwriting. Her bad handwriting could be explained by how she writes and talks at the same time. “Based on what I saw from each of you, I’m going to make a hypothesis. Let me know what parts I get wrong. You eight fell into the Underground at different times. While down there, six of you were infected with HATE. More specifically, you were infected with Vexation. This part I know because your Traits suffered from excess rather than deficiency, which would imply you were struck with Agony. Either way, Frisk and Chara were unaffected for some reason. This is until Chara absorbed the HATE. This caused her Trait to transform from DETERMINATION to HATE. It was her SOUL’s one last act of self-preservation. The only problem is that my theory doesn’t really explain why some of you are hybrids. My best guess is that your bodies absorbed the fractured pieces of the Barrier, but why did it do that? Could it have been that it was using the Barrier’s pieces to reconstruct your bodies, hence why there are monster traits? But why didn’t you have completed bodies?”

The hybrids and one human share looks with one another. Frisk shrugs since she doesn’t really care if they tell the truth or not. Chara, on the other hand, cares a lot. She glares at everyone else. Frisk can see where she’s coming from. It wouldn’t help the monsters and humans settle together if it was known that Asgore and his people killed some of the Fallen. But still, how are they supposed to lie about this?

Ardant, surprisingly, gives them a moment to discuss silently with each other. She moves through her books. When she finally pulls one out of the pile, she holds it up with a victorious sound. Everyone looks at her. She rises to her feet. “Look, I can sense that there’s a lot that you don’t want to tell me. That’s fine. I know I haven’t proven that I’m trustworthy. Let’s just put a pin into why you are all hybrids. The only thing I have to do is make sure that your magic is stable. In order to do that, I want you guys to use your magic to make sure there are no unintended consequences. We will start with Basic Magic. Can everyone summon your spirit weapons?”

Frisk and Rainer do this immediately since summoning spirit weapons was one of the first skills they had to learn while at the academy. Frisk carries a long and thin sword, but it is always hidden in a black scabbard. There is a red string tying the scabbard around the cross-guard. Frisk rarely unsheathes her sword. She only does so when doing an energy slash. She doesn’t want to kill anyone, only hurt them. Rainer, in contrast, summons a floating black book with a silver metal framing and creamy white pages rimmed with purple. Frisk wonders what he does with it.

Basic Magic is always instinctive, so the others figure out pretty quickly how to summon their weapons. Chara carries a silver with a black hilt and a dark gray-silver blade. Diana has two knives with cyan ribbons extending from the hilt to the ground. Alex wears bronze gauntlets over his hands and forearms. Natalia wields a spear with an iridescent sheen across its thin body. A shield resembling thousands of branches growing around a green gemstone appears on Ellis’ forearm, barely large enough to cover his chest. Clover twists a revolver around in his hands until the barrel points at the ground.

“Look at you all! Okay, you can put your weapons away if you want. The devices tell me that your passive auras are functioning. We could do some SOUL reading, but I don’t think that’s necessary. We should actually move onto your skills. I’ll just go in order. Frisk, what do you want to do for us? I’m assuming the energy slash, right? At least, I hope so. I don’t really want to harm you. Just strike the wall over there. It is made to absorb energy and magic.”

Frisk nods. She turns around to face the wall Ardant gestured to. Frisk sets her sword right beside her thigh. She holds her scabbard with one hand and her hilt with the other hand. She takes a deep breath, moving one leg back slightly. As she draws her sword, the red blade begins to pulsate with energy. Frisk narrows her glowing eyes as the sword fully extends from the scabbard. As Frisk moves the sword defensively in front of her, she sees a screen appear in the corner of her eyes. 

[FRISK uses the skill ENERGY SLASH]

Frisk slashes her sword through the air in front of her. The red energy slides away from the blade in one crescent moon-shaped arc. Frisk already has the sword back in the scabbard by the time the energy hits the wall. The strings keeping the sword inside the scabbard snap back into place. Frisk straightens her body. She holds the scabbard in both hands as she turns back to everyone. There are many expressions on the hybrids’ faces, but Frisk’s attention is drawn to Chara’s face. The girl seems equally impressed and awed. Frisk smiles back at Chara.

“Chara, you can use HATE blasts or umbrakinesis. Whatever works best for you,” Ardant interrupts the moment. Frisk takes a step back, gesturing towards the wall with her hand. Chara throws her dagger into the air. The hilt lands squarely in the palm of her hand. She aims the tip of the blade at the wall. The blade suddenly darkens, and a ball of bubbling black energy shoots from the blade to the opposite wall. Frisk, unfortunately, doesn’t have the Basic Magic of Sight, so she doesn’t get to see the status window of other people. But, Frisk believes with some level of certainty that Chara just used HATE blast.

“Rainer.” The cadet moves his hand in a wide circle from his side to the area in front of him. The book hovers beneath his forearms. The pages flip open. They start glowing faintly with energy. Rainer twists his hand like he’s screwing in a light bulb. A few pages fly out of his book. One of them instantly folds into a paper airplane made from a glowing purple energy. The others elongate into purple translucent platforms. Rainer steps on the nearest platform, forcing the book to follow after him. The paper airplane flies across the room. Rainer stretches out the hand not controlling the book, and the paper airplane lands against his palm. Rainer moves his fingers to physically snap the book shut. The paper airplane and platforms disappear. Rainer lands on the ground. He turns around to look at everyone. He holds the book behind his back as he bows slightly. The others stare at him. Frisk, however, claps, because she knows that Rainer was treating this like one of showcases they have to do at the academy.

“Natalia. If you want, we can test your lie detection. I understand if the others made you want to show off a little, though.” Natalia smiles at Ardant. She twists her spear in her hands as she steps away from the others. She moves around on graceful feet. She continues moving the spear around her. Suddenly, the air begins picking up in the room. When it does, Natalia leaps from one foot to the other to help her gain momentum. She launches her spear forward, and the wind sends it hurtling around the room before slamming it into the wall. The wall, unfortunately, stands firmly, and her spear bounces off harmlessly. Natalia chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck. She stretches her fingers out to her spear, and it suddenly flies back into her hand from a combination of wind and gravity magic.

“Clover.” He spins his revolver in his hands. Yellow-gold lightning moves across his body as he aims his gun at the far wall. His eyes narrow slightly, and he fires a bullet made from yellow energy. As the bullet flies across the room, the lightning from Clover’s body arcs to the bullet. It only stops when the bullet hits the wall without any reactions. The room is a little darker without the lightning blitzing across Clover’s body. He reaches a hand toward his head, but his fingers clasp around nothing when he realizes that he isn’t wearing his hat. He ducks his head to hide his embarrassment.

“Ellis… Huh, you’re going to have the hardest time, I think. You could probably summon an air elemental in this room, but I think your aptitude is better suited for earth elementals. The defensive boost won’t help us since no one is sparring. Hmm… maybe we could try this. Here, come over here,” Ardant tells him. She rises to her feet. She searches her pockets until she finds a scalpel. Without hesitation, she uses the thin blade to cut a line across her palm. Her blood sharply contrasts with the pure white floor as she holds her hand out to Ellis. He rushes over to her. Without thinking, he wraps his hands around her palm. Green light shines through his fingertips. When he stumbles back, Ardant’s hand is healed. She smiles at him. “Thank you. Alex, you’re up next.”

Alex stares at Ardant for a moment longer. He shrugs his shoulders. A stretches his hand out to hold a ball made from fire. He throws it across the room. When it touches the far wall, it instantly explodes. Alex’s face lights up within the momentary firelight, and the lava around his face bubbles with a more golden quality with his happiness.

“Diana. What are you going to do?” Diana shifts her foot. From her heel, ice spreads across the ground. It climbs the far wall with an iridescent sheen. Diana steps closer to the ice. When she puts her hand against it, something suddenly happens to her. Frisk blinks rapidly. Diana’s form grows wavy around the edges. Frisk has trouble concentrating on it, but she forces herself to so she doesn’t forget Diana’s name. When this process ends, Ardant hums. “Your presence concealment is exceptionally strong. Most people wouldn’t be able to use it when people were already focused on them. I’d love to test it when people aren’t aware you were already there. I would love to test all of your abilities, actually. Speaking as a scientist for a moment, you are all fascinating subjects. DETERMINATION is a rare Trait. No one even entertained the thought that HATE could possibly be a Trait. All of you are survivors of Vexation, and that’s also something that never happens. All I get are shattered SOULs to study. Your hybrid statuses are also worth looking into. What does this mean for your bodies? What does it mean for your dietary needs? Sleeping schedules? Thought processes? The way you interact with the world? I went into this field because I love magic so much, and you eight… I should probably stop here. Sometimes I forget that the magic I want to study usually comes with people with thoughts and feelings and whatnot.

“Anyway, that’s all the testing I need to do. All of you were stable while using your skills. In fact, you’ve been stable this entire time. I guess now we have to move onto the less fun stuff. We kind of have to figure out what to do with you. Frisk and Rainer will probably go back to the academy. I don’t know what’s happening to the rest of you, though. We can’t exactly force your enrollment since I don’t think all of you are from Ebott City. I’m just waiting for an email from the commander. Her lieutenant might give us an update, too. You might have to stay at the institute tonight, though. Don’t worry. The accommodations aren’t bad. Scientists have to stay overnight all the time. Especially me. One of those rooms has been designated as mine considering how this place is my second home. But you know, just between us, what do you guys want to happen to you?”

“I need to make amends,” Clover replies after a few seconds of silence.

“I have to make some amends of my own. After that, though…. I know I don’t have anywhere else to go. I would enroll in the academy if they will have me,” Natalia adds.

“Me, too! I was going to end up joining the military, anyway,” Alex rolls his shoulders. His gauntlets disappear as he massages his shoulder blade.

“I want to see what happened to the orphanage I was raised at. But if I don’t have a place there, I will join the academy with everyone else. After everything you all have done for me, I want to repay the favor somehow,” Ellis folds his arms behind his back.

“I am in the same boat as the rest of you. I do not have anywhere to go. We should wait to see what the commander is going to do with us before we get our hopes up, but I’m sure the academy will always have room for a huntress,” Diana places a hand against the ball joint forming her elbow.

“I need to get stronger. There are people I want to protect. I don’t care how it happens, but… a military academy wouldn’t be the worst place to gain new experiences. I’m sure I can deal with all the humans there if I have you… guys,” Chara looks toward Frisk. She hurriedly tacks on the last word, swinging her gaze to look at the others.

“You know, I have an idea. Rainer, I’m sure your unit has already graduated without you. I never had a unit because of my Trait. We should convince the commander to make the eight of us into a unit,” Frisk says, leaning around Chara to talk to her upperclassman.

“You know they form units based on Trait and age group,” Rainer reminds her, raising an eyebrow. The feathers around his ears twitch with his motions.

“I mean, yes, but Chara and I have unique traits. And we’re all…” Frisk glances at Ardant. She has been silently listening to their conversation. She smiles at Frisk as the girl cups a hand around her lips and whispers, “Displaced from time. At least, you seven are. I’ve only been missing for a few weeks. But that doesn’t matter. We’re all connected. They might make an exception for us since we’re already exceptions in a lot of ways ourselves.”

“They might,” Rainer acquiesces.

Frisk smiles at him. Ardant rises to her feet. She puts her hands on her lips as she looks at them. “Alright, everyone, let’s get you to your rooms for the night. I’ll even send that little monster boy with you. He’s been waiting on the other side of the one-way glass. I was told I couldn’t test his magic. A little unfair, in my opinion, but it seems you’ve all had long days. Tomorrow, the commander or someone associated with her will arrive to explain to you what’s going to happen next. I’ll tell them about your intentions to join Ebott Academy. I can even put in a good word about forming your own unit, even if you won’t reveal the other reason you eight would make a good unit.”

“Thank you!” Ellis says for them as Ardant opens the door. They step into the other room. The walls are colored and the lights aren’t as harsh. Lieutenant Creed and Asrial are waiting in the room. The latter rushes across the room to throw his arms around Chara’s shoulders. She awkwardly returns his hug. Frisk watches them with a soft chuckle until Asriel drags her into a hug next.

“Come on, everyone,” Ardant calls over her shoulder as she holds the door open for them. Everyone shares a look before they all move towards the door. Frisk already knows tomorrow is going to be a long day, so she hopes she can sleep peacefully tonight.

Chapter Text

Frisk turns her attention away from the mirror to look at the others in the room. Ardant lies sideways with her legs thrown over the side of the cot. The blanket has fallen to the ground, tangling between her ankles. One arm is stuck on the windowsill beside her bed while the other one falls over her face like the dawning light pouring in from the glass is disturbing her dreams. Chara lies flat on her back between Ardant’s cot and the neighboring one on the floor. She declined the usage of a blanket, but she was given a pillow that her head currently rests on. The blanket beside her arm was Frisk’s before she roused from her slumber. On the cot beside the pillow Frisk used, Natalia wraps her arms comfortably around Diana. Although near strangers, everything leading up to their present moment must have been difficult for them, so Frisk doesn’t comment on anything as she moves to the cot Diana abandoned. Frisk starts folding the blanket, leaving it on the edge when she’s finished.

Frisk wasn’t always an early riser. In fact, she hated waking up in the mornings when she was younger. She got used to it, however, when she started attending the academy. Cadets were required to wake up at a daybreak. It took an entire year, but Frisk eventually reworked her circadian rhythm to work for her instead of against her. These days, Frisk couldn’t sleep in even if she tried. She would only lie in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours. While Frisk wouldn’t mind doing that, she decided to get dressed and wait for the others to wake up. Just as Natalia and Diana needed each other, Frisk imagines someone might need her when they awaken.

Frisk shifts back into the bathroom attached to the room filled with cots. There was originally one cot inside the room for Ardant. Some workers brought in the other two cots. They would have brought in a few more, but Chara and Frisk politely declined such necessities. Frisk knows she refused it because she has slept outside before so the floor isn’t that awful. She thinks Chara refused out of sheer stubbornness. Chara might be warming up to the hybrids, but she still despises humans. She, at least, considers them dangerous since she made sure she was between Ardant— the human— and the other three. Frisk, technically, is also a human, but she thinks she gets a pass in Chara’s eyes for being the Underground’s savior. Or maybe it was the time spent with their essences tied to one SOUL. Frisk isn’t about to ask for clarification since she knows Chara wouldn’t breathe a word about her internal feelings.

Frisk, also, doesn’t care too much. Frisk considers herself to be a kind person, and she certainly doesn’t like witnessing atrocities, but she isn’t going out of her way to introspect for other people when she does enough of that for herself. If Chara wants to talk about it, Frisk has a listening ear, but otherwise, she will leave whatever turmoil the princess is facing on her own. If it really becomes a problem, Frisk suspects the Dreemurrs would be much better at solving it than Frisk will ever be.

“What are you doing?” A voice asks at the doorway. Frisk pulls her eyes away from the mirror. A smile splits across her face as she looks at Chara’s face. An old adage echoes in her mind about the devil appearing when he’s called. Frisk’s nose twitches. Chara isn’t a devil any more than Frisk is an angel.

“Looking in the mirror,” Frisk answers, decidedly not mentioning that she was thinking about the person who interrupted her thoughts. Frisk leans forward. She puts her elbow on the countertop, and her cheek falls into the palm of her hand. She holds her head up as her chest presses into the edge of the sink. One leg crosses behind the other to help Frisk maintain balance.

Chara raises an eyebrow at Frisk. She approaches the human. Standing beside Frisk, Chara looks in the mirror. Chara’s expression tenses as she notices her eyes. As a ghost— and most likely when she was alive, too— Chara’s eyes were as red as her SOUL. Right now, they are a darker color like someone poured black dye into her irises. It reminds Frisk of corrupted blood, and she suspects that Chara might see them in a similar way.

If it isn’t her eyes, Chara might be looking at the horns growing from her brown hair. They remind Frisk of Asgore’s horns more than Toriel or Asriel’s, but then again, it isn’t quite like Asgore’s, either. Regardless of which Dreemurr it most resembles, those are the horns of a goat. That is something undeniable, and they mark Chara as something that isn’t human. Frisk thought Chara would be happy about this, but her expression remains strangely twisted with negative emotion. It isn’t anything concrete enough for Frisk to decipher, but she isn’t an idiot. She can tell that her friend is hurting.

Frisk is not certain why, but the words pass naturally through her lips. “Despite everything, it’s still you.”

Chara’s eyes widen immediately. She tears her gaze away from the mirror to stare at Frisk. Chara’s lips part with silent words, but she tenses her jaw when she realizes that nothing is going to come out. Chara exhales heavily through her nose. She puts her hands on the edge of the sink. She stares down at the metal drain. The silver reflects the light hanging over the mirror, but blobs of color appear on the rim that should represent the two of them. “What do you think is going to happen to us?”

Frisk hums. She moves her attention away from Chara. She looks at the swinging door Chara came from. When she doesn’t hear anything coming from the other side, Frisk continues moving. She puts the heels of her hand on the countertop. When she pushes down, her body goes up. She sits on the edge, swinging her legs over the side. She stares at the bathroom stalls painted a deep blue color. It comforts her slightly as she strings her thoughts together for Chara’s sake. “Rainer and I will return to the academy. The Dreemurrs will fight for adoption rights over you, so you will be stuck in legal waiting rooms for quite some time. Unless the military really allows you to go back since I imagine your guardians are… well, deceased. The others, too, might have some trouble. A few could still have their guardians, so they would inevitably go to them. Anyone who doesn’t have a guardian will go to an orphanage unless they are accepted into the academy or any other institution that allows for living on-campus.”

Chara’s fingers curl into fists. She heaves a heavy breath. She shakes her head as her glare sharpens on everything inside her field of vision. “How can you be so calm about this?”

Frisk doesn’t answer immediately, sensing that option will most definitely upset Chara further. When the princess’ shoulders seem to fold together, Frisk’s voice fills the silence between them. “I recognize that getting emotional will not help me solve this. I’m not usually an emotional person, you know. The Underground was… different for me. I mean, I was mostly calm throughout the experience, not including the times I was being influenced by HATE.”

“You were crying when we saw each other again after our… you know, bad run,” Chara points out. Her lips twitch with a smile like she wants to make a joke about the experience. The smile disappears near instantly. Frisk arches a brow at the expression. She waits for Chara to commit to one way of viewing the experience. Unfortunately, she suspects she will have to wait a long time. Chara’s face keeps twisting in every direction as if she can’t quite figure out how she should feel about any given thing.

“I blame that on the extreme guilt. I’ve never done anything that awful before. I’ve never been so… out of touch with my body. It was terrifying. Forgive me for shedding a few tears,” Frisk answers, waving her hand to the side. After experiencing that, Frisk has come to a few decisions. The first is the most obvious: she doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. She wants to be her own person in control of her own body and SOUL. She will not take too kindly to someone trying to force her will into submission from this point forward. The other decision she made was that she doesn’t want to be that emotional ever again. All that crying and begging made her feel just as out of control as the HATE whispering to her did.

Frisk and Delphine Adamos do not agree on many things. They have different goals and methods for accomplishing those objectives. That being said, Frisk thinks she could learn a thing or two about putting her emotions aside to maintain rationality and work towards what she can do instead of lamenting what she cannot accept. Frisk thought she was already like that, but her experiences in the Underground have shaken her resolve. It is a non-issue, though. Even if it was shaken, her will was not broken. As long as it does not break, Frisk can strengthen it and become the kind of person she wants to be.

“You are forgiven,” Chara shrugs as she talks. There is an undercurrent to her voice that implies her words are meant to be cheeky, but Chara seems too tired to put in the effort to make it sound as such. Frisk supposes she will never understand Chara the way she wants to.

Or maybe, Chara is trying to forgive Frisk for what happened in the Underground but is too tired to make her voice as solemn as it needs to be. There is a lot Frisk needs to be forgiven for, though, so Frisk doesn’t mind in the slightest. She will wait for each stroke of forgiveness to fall across her SOUL as they come. And if they never do? Well, Frisk can handle that. Like she said before, there is no point in despairing over what will never be.

“I should get ready,” Chara murmurs to herself. She pinches her standard-issued nightshirt with her fingers. She pulls at the tight cloth. When she lets go, the fabric snaps back to her chest. Chara looks around the bathroom. Frisk points to the opposite wall from the door. There are a few outfits hanging on hooks. They are also standard-issued clothing, but they should fit a lot better than the nightclothes do. Frisk has already changed her nightclothes for the daytime ones.

Chara takes a hanger off the hook. She brings it into one of the bathroom stalls. As that door closes, another one opens. Frisk’s attention is pulled towards the door to the main room as Natalia pushes it open. She yawns against her knuckles. She squints at the light hanging over Frisk’s head. She holds her fingers to the light to cover her face. The fox ears on top of her head twitch, and her tail swishes against the metal door handle. Natalia keeps the door open with her foot. Diana slips right through. She is stretching her limbs. At least, she’s trying to, but she keeps running into peculiarities with the way her joints are now designed. She taps against them, physically moving them.

“Good morning,” Frisk tells them. Natalia lowers her hand to smile at Frisk. Her ears press down against her scalp. Frisk thinks she will have to learn how fox’s show their emotions. Still, she thinks Natalia is trying to present an image of harmlessness as she bounds over to Frisk’s side. Diana waves at Frisk as she slips into the nearest stall. Frisk pushes off the counterpart. When she lands on the floor, her boots make a squeaky noise. Frisk winces, hoping Ardant is either a deep sleeper or doesn’t mind being woken up this early in the morning. Unbothered by the outcome, Frisk moves over to the day clothes hanging on their hooks. She hands one to Natalia and throws the other one on the door to the stall Diana chose. After a few seconds, the clothes are pulled to the other side. Natalia disappears into the stall between Diana and Chara.

As the first one to go in, Chara is the first one to come out. She tugs on her clothes to adjust them properly, especially in the area where her tail protrudes from her body (Frisk imagines Natalia will have the same problem. Perhaps doubly since her tail is larger than Chara’s is). She runs her fingers through her hair once she is finished with her clothes. Chara steps closer to the mirror to style her hair with the horns in her way. As she is working on that, Frisk opens the cabinet beneath the sinks. She tosses a plastic bag at Chara. The hybrid catches it without looking. Confusion spills out across her face as she examines the plastic bag, even holding it up to the light to identify the contents.

There is a cheap toothbrush meant for a handful of uses. A small tube of toothpaste and an even smaller stick of neutral-smelling deodorant. Some of the bags have a small wad of floss, but Chara’s bag did not have one of them. Chara doesn’t make a fuss about it as she opens the bag to pull out the necessities she was given. Frisk’s eyebrows do come together when Chara pulls out a tiny pouch-like object that is revealed to have face wipes in it. Frisk marvels at how much has changed as Chara tosses the plastic bag back at Frisk, having removed everything except for a period pad. Frisk shrugs, leaving the plastic bag on the countertop as she grabs two more for Natalia and Diana.

When they leave their stalls, Natalia immediately rushes to the sink to grab the plastic bag. Diana extracts the nightclothes from Natalia’s forearm. Diana brings both of their nightclothes— and Chara’s clothes since she snags them as she passes the brunette— to the hooks where they originally got their new clothes from. Diana hangs the clothes up. Frisk drifts over to assist her since she has already completed her morning routine. Diana flashes Frisk a grateful smile that is stained somewhat by the half-dazed look in Diana’s marble eyes like she still cannot believe anything that is happening. Frisk doesn’t blame her one bit. She imagines it would be a struggle for anyone to get infected with HATE, get cured of it, come back to life after being dead for many years, and become something that isn’t human anymore with resurrection. This is without mentioning everything that has happened since then. Frisk could objectively see why the Institute of Supernatural Sciences might be a difficult place to settle one’s mind in.

Diana leaves the last set to Frisk as she goes to brush her teeth. When Frisk is finished hanging all the clothes, she brushes her fingers against the one outfit that looks dissimilar from all the others. Not only is it made for someone taller than the four of them, but it is also stylized differently. This outfit is for the scientist of their group, not the lab rats. No matter how kind Ardant is, these clothes prove that the four children are somehow different from the woman looking over them. Of course, Frisk notes, they are different, but it feels weird having the clothing point this out so shamelessly.

“What are we going to do today?” Natalia asks as she wipes her face off with the wet wipes. She leans down toward the sink to splash some hot (if the steam is anything to go by) water on her face. The hair on her tail stands on end. At the same time, her face contorts into a wince. She moves her face and hands away from the water. She wipes it off with some paper towels from the dispenser, and she forces herself to look calmer even when her tail conveys her real feelings.

“Dr. Ardant will have to tell us the schedule, but we can make some inferences. She would have sent our results to the commander. Either the commander will deal with us today, or she will deem us a non-threat for now. We might have to stay at the institute for a few more days as the city council decides what exactly should be done with the monsters,” Frisk answers when no one else takes the charge. An icky feeling settles at the bottom of Frisk’s stomach. She does not like being a leader. She is content to follow other people’s lead. Frisk was only a ‘leader’ during her days at the academy because she didn’t have a unit (a con towards being a red SOUL).

“We should be out there helping,” Chara attests quietly. A heavy look passes through her dark eyes. She grips the edges of the sink again like it’s the only thing holding her up. Natalia and Diana share a look. Both of their gazes inevitably shift over to Frisk. The red-eyed girl holds back a sigh. While the Dreemurrs would be the best people to handle this, Frisk understands that out of the three of them, she’s the best one to care for Chara.

“Chara, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you need to. Your good intentions are not going to help the monsters. Everyone sees you as a child, and you technically are no matter what you’ve gone through. In fact, it might be because of what you have gone through that they will not ask for your help. Right now, we have to… accept that the adults are going to handle everything. I know you don’t like trusting humans but try trusting your parents. There is a reason they are still king and queen even after all these years,” Frisk reaches out to touch Chara’s shoulder. Surprisingly, Chara allows Frisk to do this even when she looks at her reflection with some level of self-hatred.

Frisk’s words barely get a chance to settle in Chara’s mind as the door is thrown wide open. Natalia flinches, making an animalistic noise. Chara growls lowly, and Frisk thinks a tiny bit of steam came from her nose. Diana remains calm, but Frisk can feel a pulse of magic echo through the space as Diana summons her spirit weapon. Frisk, too, was surprised, but she’s grateful that she didn’t fall off the side of the counter to the ground below.

Ardant does not notice any of their reactions as she slides across the tile floor in her socks. She slams against the far wall with enough force that the others seem to forgive her for scaring them. Ardant grabs her clothes, rushing into the nearest stall to change. Frisk can hear fabric rustling as Ardant’s voice echoes throughout the space. “You could have woken me up, you know? I would have gotten ready and everything. Ugh, doesn’t matter! We’re all up right now! I’ll escort you four to the dining hall. I’m not sure what we’re having for breakfast this morning, but they always have a selection so I’m sure there will be something you like. Unless you have allergies… Maybe I should have tested that yesterday… You know what? We’ll work through that if and when we have to. We have several antidotes on standby because of our experiments. I’m certain no one is going to die. From the food, at least. I’m pretty sure the commander is coming today. I’ll have to ask that lieutenant for confirmation, but it seems likely based on the email she sent me. She might be bringing over some people, too. People connected to your four… and the boys, too. Oh my goddess, I have to make sure they’re awake! Okay, pitstop before we get breakfast!”

Ardant stumbles out of the stall. She braces herself against the sink. She takes the only toothbrush inside a cup beside the faucet. It is made from more sturdy materials than disposable toothbrushes. She steals Frisk’s tube of toothpaste, however, as she hurriedly brushes her teeth. She uses enough force that Frisk worries she’s going to cause her gums to bleed. Ardant doesn’t slow down, though. She keeps pressing on, staring at the others in the reflection of the mirror. Diana ducks into Ardant’s stall to collect her clothes and hang them up on the hook. When she gets finished with that, Ardant spits into the sink. She grabs the cup her toothbrush came from, using it to wash out her mouth. She cleans everything off quickly.

“Come on, girls, we have business to attend to this morning!” Ardant informs them. She moves her finger to point at all their heads. Frisk watches Ardant mouth numbers up to four. When she’s satisfied that she hasn’t lost any of her charges, Ardant holds the door open for everyone. Natalia gracefully exits the room. Diana follows behind. Chara nudges Frisk’s shoulder, so she follows the others with Chara behind her. Ardant takes up the rear until they reach the door leading into the hallway. Although they were told it was for their protection, Frisk imagines there are other reasons the door is locked from the inside as well as the outside. Only Ardant’s security badge is able to open it. She quickly does that just, holding this door open for the girls again. They leave in the same order, but they manage to form a straight line that makes everything easier on the scientist playing babysitter for the night. Frisk is happy that even their youngest— Diana— is self-sufficient because anyone can see Ardant is not cut out for this.

Ardant moves to the room right next door. She holds one hand towards the girl to make sure they don’t go anywhere while the other one scrambles to fit her keycard through the slot. When the slot flashes green, Ardant carefully opens the door. While her efforts might have been appreciated elsewhere, all of the boys are awake and dressed. Ardant wears a sympathetic smile as she looks at Creed. The lieutenant does not say a word as he ushers towards the boy. Single-file, they exit the room. Once in the hallway, however, they break rank. It isn’t too drastic. Clover and Ellis remain side-by-side. Rainer remains at Creed’s side like the dutiful cadet he is. Alex looks around the hallway with wide, searching eyes, as if he is waiting for an opportunity to run straight into the arms of an adventure. Asriel, as expected, slides into the space right beside Chara. Everyone else remains quiet as they begin conversing about what happened to them since they last saw each other. Ardant and Creed are discussing what happened, too. At least, Creed is providing a mission report and poking into Ardant’s lackluster responses. Frisk stifles a laugh.

When Creed is satisfied with the answers he has received (as few as there were), he helps Ardant organize the children into another line. Ardant leads the way to the dining hall. Creed takes up the rear. While they are not forced into a specific line based on gender, Creed does keep Alex right in front of him. When Frisk meets those fiery orange eyes, Alex shrugs helplessly at her and wears a mischievous smirk that speaks of a lot of property damage later. Frisk looks away, deciding not to interfere in business that isn’t her own.

The dining hall is not empty when they enter it after many turns in the hallway and a few flights of stairs, but there aren’t a lot of people milling around. It is a few early risers quietly eating their breakfast at separate tables. The children are given a once-over glance, but no one’s attention stays on them for long as Ardant sets them up at the largest table in the dining hall. A few are pulled over for their sake, but everyone gets a place at the table. Ardant positions herself at one head of the table. Creed stands vigil at the other end without taking a seat. Ardant glances at Creed. He raises an eyebrow at her. Ardant sighs. She gestures towards a buffet style area in the distance. There are two people in line and one asking the worker to put certain foods on their plate. “Let’s get our breakfast. Remember to come back to this table. Switch seats if you want to, but please don’t have any arguments. It’s too early for those.”

From the pleading look on Ardant’s face, Frisk thinks she specifically means it is too early for her. Frisk nods all the same, rising from her spot between Rainer and Chara. She moves to get in line with the other children. The worker eyes Ardant specifically after taking a headcount of the children plus the lieutenant trailing behind them that still needs to eat despite his professionalism. Ardant shrugs helplessly. She moves to the side of the buffet line-up to explain. “It’s Commander Adamos’ orders. I had to do some research on them— humane research, stop looking at me like that. I just needed to make they were… well, healthy isn’t exactly the right word but it’s the only one I’m legally allowed to say. Anyway, you only have to feed them for today. I think. Actually, it might be a few days, but I’ll make sure to charge the military for this! I’ll even see what I can do about getting you a tip!”

“If you say so,” The worker responds as he finishes filling up the last adult’s plate. Alex is first in line, and he starts pointing out different foods to put on his plate. Like this, the worker gets through them all. He finishes with Ardant. She is extremely grateful for him, especially when he sets a mug of what Frisk is pretty sure is coffee despite having no evidence other than Ardant’s expression as she takes a long sip of it. Ardant almost leaves without her plate, but the worker calls out her name to make her remember that she needs to eat alongside drinking.

The group is quiet as they eat. While Frisk is both awake enough to start a conversation and brave enough to break the silence permeating in the room, she enjoys the tranquility. Frisk has done enough talking for the day. Her evasion of leadership positions extends to conversations. She does not want to start or lead them. If she can, she would spend all of her time in silence unless absolutely necessary.

Still, Frisk finds it odd how some of the others are following her lead. Not all of them, of course, since Clover and Rainer both seem like naturally quiet people like she is. Ellis and Natalia might not be quiet by nature, but they are kind enough to remain that way when they sense something in the air. That leaves the others, but Frisk thinks they have their reasons as she looks toward each of them individually. Diana might be waiting for someone else to start a conversation. Chara is lost in thought, and Asriel is entirely focused on her instead of interacting with all the hybrids (and humans, technically) around him. Alex is shoveling food in his mouth, so that might be why he isn’t talking. Creed is reading through reports on his phone, barely paying attention to what food enters his mouth. Ardant is huddled around her cup of coffee, eyes closed as she tries to regain some sense of control over her life.

They do not all stop eating at the same time, but it’s fairly close. As the children are delivering their dishes to the window where the dishwasher person is waiting, Frisk sees Creed walk over to Ardant’s side of the table. She tears her eyes away from her mug to look at whatever he’s showing her on his phone. She nods at him. She rises to her feet. She pushes her chair in. Creed looks over the table. He takes anything trash that was left behind to the trash can as the children return to Ardant. Since she is standing up, none of them make a move to sit down. Ardant waits for Creed to return before she speaks to them. “Commander Adamos is waiting for us in a conference room. It is her intention to sort out what will happen to you… Well, technically, eight. We know what is going to happen to you… um…  Prince Asriel, right?”

The title startles Asriel. He only manages to nod his head when Chara grabs onto his paw, squeezing it gently. Asriel pulls his eyes away from Ardant to his sister. Ardant nods back at him, muttering ‘cool’ under her breath several times. Creed coughs unsubtly into his fist.  Ardant snaps her fingers. She lifts her gaze to him. She turns around immediately, gesturing for the children to follow her. While they are no longer in a line, Creed keeps Alex near him once more.

The conference room is on the same floor as the dining hall, but it is on the other side of the facility. It takes them some time to get there. Ardant nearly gets lost, but she reminds herself where she is going. She admits to them over her shoulder that she rarely attends meetings. Perhaps because she’s regarded as a genius, the higher-ups do not like taking her out of the laboratory if they can help it. Most of the time, her assistant goes to fetch any news and relays it to her unless it is extremely important.

Finally, however, they make it to the conference room. Ardant has to use her keycard to give them access again, but she decidedly holds the door open from inside the hallway instead of stepping into the room. Creed ushers the children through the threshold.

The conference room is a long, rectangular room with navy blue walls. One wall has the door leading into the hallway. The two long length-wise walls have two naturalistic pictures on them each. The fourth wall across from the door has a screen where a projector hanging from the ceiling can display images. There is a wooden lectern in one corner, but Adamos does not stand at it. She keeps the overhead lights on and the projector off. Her papers are spread out across the edge of the wooden table that matches the shape of the room. There are several plastic chairs surrounding the table. ‘Several’ turns into an exact number for everyone as the children find their places. On one side, it goes Clover, Ellis, Natalia, and Rainer. On the other side, it goes Frisk, Chara, Asriel, and Alex. Diana sits at the end of the table. Creed and Ardant stand vigilantly on either side of the closed door like royal knights. Creed stands up straight with his arms folded behind his back, and Ardant wraps her arms around herself without making eye contact with anyone. Adamos remains at the head of the table.

“Hello. Forgive me for leaving you to sleep in an unfamiliar place. It has been a hectic twenty-four hours. Rest assured, I have neither forgotten nor neglected any of you. I have made certain to put one of my best informants in charge of determining your identity and where your guardians are. I have reviewed this information and compiled it into these folders for you,” Adamos informs them. She spreads the folders out to everyone except for Asriel. Frisk doesn’t think that fact is nearly as odd as the fact that she has a folder. Frisk flips it open immediately. She isn’t stunned that there is so much information about her; she is surprised the informant gathered it all and Adamos put a folder around it.

“It has come to my attention that most of you were born in years that do not match your current age. The monsters have confirmed that time does not work differently in the Underground. While it would be beneficial to have answers regarding how this is possible, this institute will be the first to tell you that magic is a fickle matter. Until any of you are ready to come forward about the nature of your agelessness, I will simply relay to the council that it is a matter of magic. I am certain that even if this is not the whole truth, it is certainly part of it,” Adamos begins. Frisk gets that point since the first page of her folder— and presumably everyone else’s— is basic information about her including her birthday. Her birth year, more specifically.

“However, this still presents a series of problems. Most of your guardians are deceased. Therefore, it is not easy for us to determine where you should go. Adamos, Bergfalk, you will be reinstated in the academy. Additionally, Bergfalk, your family is still alive. Your great-grandfather wishes to meet with you soon. I will arrange a meeting at your discretion. Katharos, the director of your orphanage left the building and the surrounding land to you in his will. I will find a suitable lawyer to get the details of the matter settled. This lawyer will also help you, Lucian, as your parents left the farm they owned to you. Drosselmayer, Everett, Odessa… you were left with a few miscellaneous objects. Dreemurr, there are no matters for us to settle in your case,” Adamos explains to everyone what should be outlined in their papers. Frisk reads through hers. Other than attending the academy, it seems her previous caretaker is willing to take her in again. Frisk is thankful, especially since she misses him so much. She has so many stories to tell him when they get to reunite.

“There are other matters to attend to for a few of you. I have been told that there are some monsters who will accept the responsibility of looking after you. Lucian, there is a monster who gave us the name Starlo. He told us that the two of you were close in the Underground, although he added that your opinion matters most. Drosselmayer, Ceroba Ketsukane believed she was best fit to care for you because of your hybrid type. Dreemurr, the royal couple are requesting to officially adopt you. In each of these cases, you can decide to stay with the monsters if you so desire. Being adopted is another matter, but you and your respective guardians can work through that as you see fit once monsters are integrated into the legal system. As for everyone else, there are a few options available to you. You can apply for different schools. Ebott Military Academy is an option, but I am certain Doctor Ardant will assist you if you desire to apply for her alma mater. If a private school such as that is not appealing, you can stay at the Institute for Supernatural Sciences as an assistant. Your magical capabilities and apparent pasts will enable you a headstart in the field of soulology or even the study of HATE. If neither of these are suitable, we can enroll you into a public school while putting you in the local orphanage.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Frisk looks at everyone’s faces as they mull over their futures. Frisk is lucky enough to have a decision laid out right before her. She doesn’t need to do anything. She will return to the academy. During vacations, she can continue staying in her dorm or she can return to the side of the person who takes care of her when her parents can’t.

“I wish to speak with my great-grandfather before I return to the academy,” Rainer declares forwardly. He meets Adamos’ eyes without a hint of hesitation in those owlish purple eyes.

“I will schedule it with the old general,” Adamos nods.

Rainer’s words pave the way for everyone else to start speaking their minds. Alex leans forward, putting his fiery forearms on the table. He stares down at the sparks perpetually floating between his hands. “I’m going to enroll in the academy. I either join the military or spend my life running from it.”

“I also wish to apply for the academy. My parents might not be alive anymore, but I wish to carry on my father’s legacy,” Diana admits, raising her hand slowly as if Adamos does not know who is speaking.

“I would like to speak to Miss Ketsukane before I make a decision about staying with her,” Natalia says softly, tucking her hands underneath her thighs. She stares at the table in front of her. “If I choose to stay with her, what are my options for schooling?”

“You can still apply for private institutions like the military academy or one based in magic. As long as the monsters are not relocated to a far off place, you will be close enough to attend a majority of the schools in and around Ebott City. That being said, you can still attend a public school if that is what you want,” Adamos tells Natalia, but her gaze does sweep around to look at everyone.

“And how much will these schools cost us?” Ellis throws another question out there.

Adamos shakes her head. “The military will be paying for any fees. It is our responsibility to care for our citizens. Even if some of you come from other areas, you are not part of our system. We failed you once by allowing you to fall into the Underground. This is the city council’s way of extending an apology. I will admit, however, that another reason we are doing this is because of who you were and what you currently are. The council wants to keep track of former victims of HATE, and they are still uncertain about what your status as hybrids entails.”

“I see. I want to settle my claim on the doctor’s belongings, but I would like to join the others in applying for the academy. I will most likely stay in the dorms with them,” Ellis nods at Alex and Diana.

“I’ll also apply for the academy. I’m not certain if I’ll be in the dorms, though,” Natalia says as she brushes her shoulder against Ellis’. He turns his gaze towards her with a smile. She smiles back at him. Some mutual understanding passes between them.

“If Starlo wants to… I’ll stay with him. But I also need to join the military,” Clover cuts in. His eyes glance at Alex for a second, but Frisk gets the feeling that his reason for joining is completely different than Alex’s reason for joining. One is running from what they have done while the other is running from what they are likely to do.

“I’m staying with the Dreemurrs,” Chara decisively says as if that was never in question. And to Frisk, it never was. Although Asriel doubted it once, Frisk has never doubted that her family is the most important thing to Chara. “I don’t know about the military, though. I’ll think about it after the monsters get everything they deserve after their years of suffering.”

“A reasonable position to take. I cannot say much on it, but I believe the city council is going to give the mountain to the monsters. They are able to continue using the interior while also having access to the exterior to build a new settlement. Unfortunately, I am uncertain about the intricacies regarding if the city will allow another kingdom to exist so closely. We will have to wait and see for an official statement,” Adamos informs them. She crosses her arms over her chest. She nods at Creed. “That is all that I came here to say. Unfortunately, I have to handle other matters at the moment. The nine of you will have to stay here for a while longer, but I can promise that you will be well taken care of. It will not be long until you are released to whatever guardians you have chosen for yourselves. Please, inform Creed if you have something you wish to tell me, including if you change your decision.”

With that, Adamos collects her papers and leaves the room. Argant turns her gaze to stare at Creed. He steps forward to handle the unspoken orders his commander left for him. Frisk breathes out quietly. It is going to be a long next couple of days, isn’t it? 

Chapter Text

The entire world has changed. The people, the landscape, the civilizations, the political climate. Everything is different, yet the weather remains the same. The wind blows through his clothes. The sunlight is warm against his skin. There’s a thick humidity in the air, and there are several clouds crowding the horizon. It has been many years since he’s last been alive, yet he remembers everything from his past as if his life was extinguished yesterday instead of decades prior. It is an old habit ingrained in his body to sense when the weather is going to change, and as he lifts a hand that belongs to him yet looks nothing like it should, he knows it is going to rain soon. It will be a thunderstorm, too, and he doesn’t know how he feels about something as fundamental as nature being the exact same as it once was.

“I’m here! I’m here! Sorry, I got so caught up making these that I didn’t realize what time it was!” Clover’s head snaps down from the sky to the figure racing towards him from the entrance of the institute. Ellis slides to a stop in front of Clover and Natalia. Ellis smiles at them, a mixture of embarrassment and compassion. Tiny flowers bloom on his head, popping up from the brown locks as if it were dirt instead of hair. Ellis lifts his hands to show cookies in colored plastic bags tied with winding ribbon. Ellis’ smile grows so wide that his eyes close. “I made these for you two. I… Well, I thought today would be hard enough without a sweet treat to look forward to. They’re just sugar cookies. I didn’t know if you had allergies. I can keep it if you don’t want it, though.”

“Thank you,” Natalia says in a quiet voice. She reaches forward to pick a purple plastic bag. She cradles the gift in the palm of her hands. Her index finger curls around the ribbon. When she pulls her finger away, the ribbon unfurls like a spring. Natalia’s lips twitch with a smile, but she can’t stop the heaviness in her deep blue eyes from shining through.

Clover closes the hand that was feeling the air for the temperature and humidity into a fist. He watches the nebula inked on the skin around his fingers move with his wayward emotions. Clover turns to look at the plastic bags. He reaches his hand toward them, but he hesitates to grab onto them. He knows that the night-like quality on his hands will not spread. He knows this because he’s been touching items all throughout these past few days. He knows, yet he hesitates.

Ellis’ expression droops with empathy, but he never loses his smile. He takes one of the bags from his hand. He slides it right against Clover’s half-open, half-closed palm. Clover’s eyes snap to Ellis. The green-eyed hybrid meets Clover’s eyes. He purposefully nudges the bag close enough that his own fingers brush against Clover’s skin. The vines around Ellis’ wrist start growing leaves, but there isn’t a difference in his physiology caused by Clover. A sigh leaves Clover that is meant to sound relieved but honestly just sounds resigned. He accepts the bag of cookies, stuffing it into his pocket. He nods at Ellis, unsure of his voice. Ellis doesn’t appear to mind. He doesn’t show any other reaction as he gestures behind Natalia and Clover.

Lieutenant Creed rolls down the passenger side’s window of the military vehicle. He leans against the center console. He hooks a thumb toward the backseat while making eye contact with the three of them. He shifts back into his seat. He rolls the tinted window back up, obscuring everything except for a poorly defined silhouette. Natalia freezes with a sudden sharp inhale. Clover reaches toward his belt loop for a gun that he knows isn’t there anymore. Ellis carefully steps between them. He opens the door to the backseat for the group. He bows slightly with an amused look on his face. 

When neither Natalia or Clover moves, Ellis peers into the backseat as if the problem lies with the vehicle. Ellis looks back. He stares at the concrete with a contemplative expression. In the end, a chipper attitude warms his face. “I’ll sit in the middle. Everything will work itself out.”

Clover snorts. He tilts his head down to hide his face under the shadowy brim of his hat. Clover’s fingers brush against the outline of the cookies in his pocket as he gropes for his gun. Clover jerks his hand back an inch, letting his fingers snap into a fist. He marches forward first. He climbs into the vehicle. He hunches down as he walks in the space between the seats and the back of the seats in the front. He plops down at the very end of the bench. He situates himself, getting as comfortable as he can against the black leather.

True to his word, Ellis slides into the spot beside Clover in the middle. Ellis pulls at his seatbelt. He taps against the edge of it while making eye contact with Clover. As Ellis turns to snap his seatbelt into place, Clover rolls his eyes. He, however, does grab onto his seatbelt. He slides it into place, listening for the satisfying click. Natalia sits on the other side, and she slams the door shut behind her. Ellis tugs on his seatbelt while looking at her. As Natalia hurriedly apologizes for forgetting, Creed starts driving the vehicle away from the institute. Natalia looks out the window with a conflicted expression. Ellis puts a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

Clover sweeps his gaze around the vehicle. Creed is in the driver’s seat. He’s rigid with tension, and his driving is incredibly by-the-book. There is some equipment in the passenger seat beside him, explaining why the three of them were relegated to the backseat when they’re all old enough for the front. Clover doesn’t know what the equipment is meant for, but Creed doesn’t seem too concerned about it hitting against the door as he makes some sharp turns. There is nothing in the expansive space behind the backseat. Clover would even wager that there’s meant to be a third row, but the seats have been removed. This vehicle might be used for other purposes, then. The windows are tinted from the outside, but there’s some visibility in the interior that allows Clover to see the forest that separates the institute from Ebott City.

The forest isn’t particularly large, though. It isn’t long until they are driving into the city. Clover holds his breath. He grabs his hat, putting it in his lap. He moves his fingers through his hair. He stares at the city with a sense of awe and forbearance twisting in his mind. He has never been to Ebott City before. His family were farmers and ranchers on the other side of the mountain. He has seen pictures of Ebott City in his old textbooks, and this is nothing like those pictures. The city has changed drastically since Clover was dead. Everything has changed, he knows. Only the weather remains the same, he supposes, and that thought doesn’t bring him any comfort.

Clover grits his teeth. He tears his eyes away from the city to avoid looking at the large skyscrapers and moving vehicles that don’t make any sense to him. He’s never thought his upbringing made him stupid. He’s never thought that technology was too grand for him to understand. But all of this? He doesn’t have an inkling on how it works. He doesn’t know how any of this could have happened in what feels like no time at all yet too much to ever comprehend. They say necessity is the mother of invention, so what necessitated all of this?

A strange warmth moves across the back of his hand. Clover’s eyes move toward his palm. Ellis’ fingers are brushing against Clover’s skin. They do not change even when they touch the inky black dotted with stars that twinkle and dust that swirls. Clover can feel Ellis’ eyes on him, but he doesn’t make eye contact. He keeps his hand still as he stares at it. Ellis takes this as a sign to continue onward. He starts tugging at Clover’s fingers, unfurling the fist. Ellis slots his hand right into that space. He intertwines their fingers. Finally, Clover looks at Ellis.

He is smiling at Clover. He does that a lot, Clover’s noticed. Smile. He does it so often that Clover knows it has to be a lie sometimes, but he can never tell when. They’re all so genuine and earnest. They are all so unsurprisingly kind. If his smiles do not show how much he cares, his eyes certainly do. They are as green as the plants that weave in and out of his skin, growing and rotting with his emotions. Right now, there are flowers growing along his cheeks that release a calming scent, and Clover understands immediately how Ellis is feeling right now. He wants to comfort Clover. It won’t be as easy as a hand held, a smile shown, and flowers grown, but Clover thinks he can calm down a little for Ellis’ sake. For his own sake, too, because all of this anger is certainly not good for him.

The ride becomes bumpier. Ellis’ eyes flick toward the window, and Clover follows his gaze by turning around. Ellis squeezes their hands as they watch the last of the city get left behind. They are driving up the mountain. Clover forces his eyes to remain on the woods and rocks covering the mountainside around the designated road. He didn’t trek up the mountain on this side, but there’s not much difference in appearance. If Clover can forget the leather beneath his legs or the rumbling of the car’s engine, he could convince himself he was climbing the mountain on that fateful day to find the missing children.

He found them. He found them all, and a few more, to boot.

The drive is completely silent. Creed never once speaks or turns on the radio. Natalia silently leans her head against the window. Ellis looks around between all three of them with the instinct to comfort without the knowledge on what to do. Clover keeps his gaze on the mountain’s shifting terrain. His hand, however, remains locked with Ellis’, and that tether is enough to keep him from drifting.

Creed pulls the vehicle into the grass beside the path. He puts the vehicle in park before turning the keys. The machine falls completely silent. Creed turns where he sits. He looks over at the three passengers. His eyes narrow slightly. He nods his head slowly. He coughs into his fist and speaks in a low voice. “I will remain here. Speak with your potential caretaker. Return any time before noon. Do not use your magic. Do not start any fights. Try not to get hurt.”

“Understood,” Clover informs the lieutenant. Creed nods at him. He turns back to face forward in the seat. He reaches over for the equipment in the passenger side. He brings it to his lap. He starts fiddling with some of the pieces. Clover untangles his hand from Ellis. Clover unclicks his seatbelt, opening the door. He slides out of the vehicle. His hat falls into his waiting hand. The wind smacks the side of his body. Clover puts his hat on his head. He steps away from the vehicle. Ellis moves out of the vehicle right behind him. He jumps down, and the grass grows longer beneath his feet. Ellis’ brow furrows and he frowns at the plants. Clover hides his snort by looking at Natalia walking around the back of the vehicle to stand with them.

Natalia and Clover turn to walk toward the encampment where some of the monsters have been staying. Ellis slides right in front of them. Natalia and Clover share a look as they stop. Ellis takes a deep breath. He rushes forward. He moves an arm around both of their shoulders, pulling them down slightly to give them a hug. Clover’s eyes widen. He is instantly hit with the scent of herbs and flowers. He carefully moves a hand to pat Ellis’ back, unsure if he’s comforting the teen or informing him he can stop now. Ellis doesn’t stop. Instead, he whispers, “You two are going to be fine. You’re strong enough to take care of yourself. Don’t let this defeat your spirits.”

Ellis steps away from them. He returns to the vehicle since they’ll be going to the director’s former orphanage later. Ellis waves at them before disappearing into the vehicle’s backseat. Natalia watches the vehicle for a moment longer, but Clover turns his head. He straightens his hat on his head as he starts walking. Natalia’s at his side after a moment, a slight breathlessness in the graceful way she carries herself.

This isn’t all of the monsters. It is the healthiest and sturdiest among them. The elderly and children are in the facilities that are normally used for refugees or when a natural disaster destroys homes. But there are enough monsters here that they are walking around between the tents. There are a number of military units with them, passing out supplies and coordinating with the monsters of some rank. Natalia looks around at them with wide eyes. Clover can’t bring himself to look at them longer than a few seconds. The same thought echoes in the back of his mind: did I push Frisk to kill that one?

Natalia grabs his sleeve. Clover stops. He turns to look at her from under the brim of his hat. Natalia isn’t looking at him. She waves over a monster wearing a badge on their chest. The monster looks uncomfortable talking to Natalia. Their eyes keep darting to the fox ears peeking out from her black hair. The monster, at least, sounds professional about it when they speak. “Hello. What can I help you with?”

“Hello. I’m Natalia Drosselmayer. This is Clover Lucian. We were the humans that Commander Adamos sent for. I was wondering where Ceroba Ketsukane and Starlo were at since we’re supposed to be meeting them,” Natalia asks, saving the duo from walking all over the campsite without any idea of where they’re meant to be. Clover has to give Natalia credit for her foresight. He also gives her credit for asking anything at all. While he’s never been around foxes much, he has been around animals with tails, and the way Natalia’s tail is flickering like a flame implies she’s on edge right now.

“Right. The human did tell us to watch out for you. That way. It’s the white tents at the very end in front of the tree stumps. The two of them are in different tents. Ceroba is on the right; Starlo is on the left. They thought it would be better for one-on-one conversations,” The monster answers with a ruffled smile on their face. They gesture into the distance for the hybrids. Once the words are out, they immediately dart away. Clover thinks they make an excuse about needing to help out somewhere else, but the campsite is so loud that Clover can hardly parse out an individual noise. He’s lucky they were able to catch someone’s attention and have a short conversation with them.

“Here we go,” Natalia mutters, close enough for Clover to catch it. Natalia releases his sleeve. She starts walking forward. She leaves him behind this time, but he isn’t far. He trails after her without any desire to walk beside her. He’s content staring at her back. Her ponytail sways as she walks, and her ears flick in every direction. Clover wonders how much she can hear with those. He wonders how much her mind can comprehend out of what she hears.

It gets quieter as they walk. There are less monsters moving from one to another around them. There are two white tents at the end of a row of tents. There are a few tree stumps just beyond the edge of the tents. The monster wasn’t lying about that part. It would take entering the tents to determine if the monster was lying about Ceroba and Starlo being there. Natalia stops. Clover keeps going a few steps, but he feels compelled to stop when he doesn’t feel her presence following him. Clover moves his chin near his shoulder. His eyes dart to the edge of his sockets. Natalia’s fingers are intertwined over her stomach. She looks nervously at the right tent.

“I’m worried,” Natalia admits. Her voice is quiet, but it packs a punch with how much emotion she fills in the space of each syllable. Her shoulders sink, almost compressing together to protect her heart. Her gaze trails down to the sand and grass in front of her. Her tail falls flat against the back of her thigh, and her fox ears flatten against her scalp. “I don’t know what Ceroba wants with me. I don’t know why she called for me. Is it because she’s angry I hurt Dalv all those years ago? Is it because her husband’s machine is what killed me? Is it because I’m now… part-fox? Or does it have to do with Kanako? I felt it, you know. She used part of my SOUL on Kanako. But some… thing came back instead. Does she think I can help Kanako? Or does she blame me for the process not working? Is she guilty and apologetic? Or is she angry and vengeful?”

Natalia sighs. Her entire body deflates. Her arms fall to her sides. She looks a few seconds away from collapsing onto the ground. “I’m not scared she’s going to hurt me. I’m scared I’m going to hurt her.”

Clover turns on his heel. He looks in the direction between the tents and Natalia without facing either direction head-on. He closes his eyes. He reaches for his gun again, and he feels Ellis’ cookies in his pocket. He tilts his head down and to the side. He sounds angry when he speaks because he doesn’t know how to be vulnerable in any other way. “Everything is different now. I’m different. I’m a hybrid. I’m someone who’s seen death. I… had a SOUL of VENGEANCE. I helped genocide the monsters. I don’t know what I’m doing. Not here, and not alive, either.”

Clover huffs. He lifts his hat to run his fingers through his hair. Once he’s tugged on the strands for long enough, he drops his hat back onto his head. He turns to face Natalia. A slow smile creeps onto his face. He’s doing his best to emulate Ellis, so it feels out of place on his face. Natalia’s expression softens at the sight of it, though, so Clover must be doing something right. “We’re here now. I can’t go back to who I was. You won’t know what Ceroba wants. We have to take all of this one day at a time, and today, we’re facing this. They deserve this, at least. Honesty and closure.”

“Thank you, Clover. For what it’s worth, our appearances might have changed and we might have gotten some new experiences, but I think we aren’t so different from who we once were. Our SOULs wouldn’t have come back to us if we weren’t,” Natalia reminds him. She puts a hand on his shoulder as she passes him. She hesitates at the flap, but once she’s taken a deep breath, Natalia disappears into the right tent.

Clover looks at the left tent. He grabs onto the flap. He removes his hat, pressing it against his chest. He throws the flap open with more confidence and energy than he necessarily feels. Clover steps into the tent before the flap can close. The fabric hits his ankles when it settles on the ground. Clover looks around the tent. It’s a relatively large space. It is lit by the pale light of the sunlight seeping through the white fabric. There’s a table in the center of the tent with several wooden chairs around it. There are multiple cots along the sides. There is one pillow and a folded blanket on each cot.

Someone sits in one of the chairs. A humanoid monster with yellow skin and teal-patterned star appendages stretching from his head. A pair of light blue-tinted glass sits on the bridge of his nose. He wears overalls over a white shirt with sleeves folded to his elbows. He looks up suddenly at Clover. His eyes widen behind his glasses. His lips part slowly. He grasps for words until he dumbly says, “Clover.”

It is one word. It’s his own name, for crying out loud! But it’s also that voice. A voice so familiar that Clover could recognize it even if the monster’s appearance completely changed. As if to mirror an old friend, Clover breathes out equally as dumbly, “Starlo.”

Starlo pushes his hands off the table. He sits sideways in his chair. He puts his hands palm-up in his lap with his fingers spreading out. His gaze trails along Clover’s body, searching for every specific detail. Clover swallows thickly. He remains firm and unwavering in the face of Starlo’s assessment. “You look…”

“Different?” Clover offers. He looks down at his hands. His fingers are swallowed by the night sky. He stared in the mirror for long enough the other day to know that his neck has also been swallowed. In the shower, he made a note of every part of his body that was no longer covered in skin. Or, well, maybe it still is skin. It just doesn’t look like it. Instead, it looks like a moving tapestry of stars, comets, darkness, dust, and other celestial components that create a sky that would be beautiful if it was above Clover, not part of him.

“The same,” Starlo settles on with a nostalgic smile spreading across his face. He moves his hands forward to partially frame Clover’s body as he cannot believe how similar Clover looks from the human who ripped his own SOUL from his body to give the Monsters a fighting chance. Clover thinks the idea is laughable now. Sure, he did save the monsters, but not before damning them. 

“You look different,” Clover murmurs. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. I mean, I’m older. I also retired from being the sheriff. I was doing it to keep people happy, but… Well, I went back to farming with my folks. I’ve been doing that steadily for a while now. We’re on the surface now, though. I guess I can finally find some real cowboys,” Starlo laughs gently. His tone is airy and light. Clover sets his hat on the edge of the table. He stares down at the wooden surface. Clover wants to match Starlo’s energy. He wants to be as happy to see an old friend as Starlo seems to be about seeing him. Clover wants, but he doesn’t get. Instead, he feels absolutely miserable.

Clover has to learn to stop wanting.

“The commander was talking to the king and queen a few days ago. She mentioned that she was giving the fallen children a chance to choose what they wanted for themselves. Ceroba volunteered to care for the blue child. She gave me the courage to ask about you. I didn’t even know it was an option for a human to stay with us,” Starlo continues. The skin around his eyes crinkle with worry. He inclines his body toward Clover. He is watching the yellow’s expression intently.

“I’m not human,” Clover reminds Starlo. The words leave Clover’s mouth like a bullet from a chamber. It hurts him, and Starlo’s crestfallen face makes it clear Clover’s hurt him, too. Clover pulls his gaze away, unable to stand the expression. By some grace, Frisk never killed Starlo in the Underground. Starlo must have gone with the other monsters to a safe location during the human’s massacre. Clover doesn’t know if he could stand being in Starlo’s vicinity if he saw the monster turn to dust.

“She said that, too. Most of the Fallen were now… hybrids between humans and monsters,” Starlo nods slowly. He leaves his arms between his thighs as he stares at the floor. His lips tick upward with a smile. “It doesn’t matter to me. Human, monster, hybrid. Whatever you are, you’re still Clover. And if you need some place to go, I’ll find that place for you. Whether it’s with me or not.”

“Why?” Clover breathes. He looks as far away from Starlo as he can without moving his body. His hands are flat on the wooden table, and Clover thinks he would fall to the ground if he wasn’t leaning his body weight against the creaking surface. “The choice to sacrifice my SOUL was mine. You don’t need to feel guilt about that. If you still do, I forgive you. You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m not doing this because I feel guilty. I’m doing this because you’re my deputy,” Starlo claims. He rises to his feet. He walks around the chairs and the table. He grabs onto Clover’s shoulders, pulling the hybrid into facing Starlo. There are remnants of age traced along the edges of Starlo’s expression. There are so many years of absence that have defined and tested more of Starlo’s personality and convictions. No time has passed for Clover, and years have passed for Starlo. But Starlo’s smile is the exact same. A little goofy, a little awkward, but always sincere, always bright. “You’re a kid, Clover. You deserve a place to feel safe. I want to be that place for you.”

Clover looks down without stepping out of Starlo’s embrace. An answer sits at the tip of his tongue, but first— first, there is a question. “Do you still believe in justice?”

Starlo startles. He does not answer immediately. Clover crosses his arms over his chest because he doesn’t want to hold himself right now. He doesn’t want Starlo to know that Clover needs to be held before he completely shatters.

Starlo might not physically hold Clover, but his words get close. “I do. Even if I didn’t, I have to believe in it now. You sacrificed your life to save monsters. Monsters are saved now, and you got to come back. If that isn’t justice, what is?”

Clover thinks it’s a punishment for letting HATE corrupt him, but perhaps that, too, is a form of justice. Whether his revival was a fluke or some retaliation from the universe, Clover is alive right now. He’s alive, and Starlo is here. Clover’s other friends are most likely around somewhere, too. Clover has been given a second chance, and punishment or reward, Clover has to live it. He’s going to do exactly that.

“I’ll stay with you, Starlo,” Clover says, looking back at Starlo’s face. A half smile appears on Clover’s face. “I’m also going to attend the military academy.”

“Understood, kiddo,” Starlo informs him with a thumbs up. Clover laughs, and something lightens in his chest at the sound. Starlo’s entire face brightens. Clover takes a deep breath. He hopes Natalia’s conversation with Ceroba was half as productive as his conversation with Starlo was. 

Chapter Text

Seraphina Ardant drops onto the ground beside the cot closest to the doors that lead into the bathroom and the hallway. She lifts a large piece of paper from her chest to the space directly in front of her. She has to fight against the material to unfold it without ripping it. When Ardant manages it, she drops it on the ground in front of her. She uses the palms of her hands to spread the edges out. Her fingers trace over the noticeable creases. When she finishes outlining the unofficial grid made from the creases, she pulls her hands away. She leans back slightly, folding her legs together.

Diana Odessa lowers herself onto her knees on the other side of the paper. She puts her palms on the edges of the paper. She leans directly over the paper with widening eyes as she observes every detail. Frisk Adamos pulls herself to the edge of the cot. She leans over the side. She puts one hand on the floor beside Ardant to balance herself. Frisk settles her chin against her folded arm. She passively watches Diana pouring over the paper. She even keeps Ardant in her peripheral vision in case the scientist’s countenance changes suddenly.

Frisk is unable to look at Chara Dreemurr. The latter is lying with her back to the group on the farthest cot from them. She has been there for much of the morning since the girls and boys were separated because they were sent back to their rooms. Chara might have fought against this order, but there wouldn’t be a reason to. Asriel went with Alex and Rainer to the locations they need to visit before everything gets finalized. Chara wanted to go with the group then to see the monsters, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the institute until she was cleared. Unlike the others, Chara possesses a SOUL of HATE, and no one will let her forget that— especially not herself. Hence, the separation, and why Frisk is giving Chara some space right now.

“Are we certain this map is accurate?” Diana asks, snapping Frisk’s attention back to the present moment. Diana’s cyan eyes are bright with disbelief and the most terrifying kind of awe. She moves her fingers against the numerous names written across the map of the continent. Frisk glances at the map. It looks accurate to her. Detailed, too. Most maps usually pick one subject to base themselves around: cities, landmarks, waterways, etc. This map, however, is packed tightly with information. Most of that information, however, was written in pen by numerous handwritings. Only the names of each nation are typed out in thick, bold ink.

“It is the best one we have,” Ardant confirms. She puts her chin between her index finger and thumb. Ardant stares at Diana with observational curiosity. She tilts her head to the side as Diana returns her attention to the map. Diana breathes out shallowly, heavy and earnest in the way she conducts herself. “I am assuming you were born… a long time ago?”

“Yes. There were maps back then, but I have never seen one that shows the whole continent. Most of these nations were stories. The only reason I knew they existed was because my tutor tested me on them. I met a few travelers, too, but I didn’t get to extensively talk to them. My mother warned against strangers, and my father was not a social person,” Diana explains with a tight laugh joining her words. She puts a hand over her chest. A bittersweet smile overtakes her face at the memories of a recent yet distant past.

“I can also confirm the map is right. There’s an entire class dedicated to maps at the academy,” Frisk adds. She leans over the side of the cot to brush her fingers against Ebott City and the surrounding mountains. It is one of the few settlements in Carmine. The nation itself is rather small, especially compared to the others. The reason it hasn’t fallen, however, is that Carmine is one of the most technically advanced nations. Frisk wrote a paper about it once. She thought it was because they were close to a source of ancient magic— Mt. Ebott. She got a high score on that paper, but she doesn’t think she convinced anyone, let alone her professor, of her opinion.

Frisk should rewrite that paper now that she knows there was enough magic within Mt. Ebott to sustain multiple biomes and create hybrids.

“Were you from Ebott City?” Ardant asks.

Diana frowns. She shakes her head. She moves her fingers higher. She brushes against the northernmost nation. Apatite is a snowy region composed almost entirely of mountain ranges. Because it is so far north, the days and nights stretch on longer than they would in other nations. Between the snow, the mountains, and the unusual day-night cycle, it isn’t the most populated nation. In fact, it is generally regarded as the most isolated. “I was born and raised here. My family would travel to Ebott City every summer for my father’s hunting trips and my mother’s social season. I went to Mt. Ebott by myself one time to hunt. I accidentally fell into the hole leading to the Underground. After that…”

Diana trails off without speaking. She moves her finger along an invisible path from Apadite to Mt. Ebott. “I didn’t realize we were traveling between nations. I suppose the paths weren’t as well-tread in those days. No one was traveling much after the Human-Monster War. It seems that has changed since I’ve been away.”

“It has. There were some innovations in transportation that allowed it to become easier. You see these lines right here? My colleague drew them in. It’s all of the main railroad tracks. They stretch between every nation from each capital city. If a nation’s economic center is somewhere else, the railroads even go to that city. I’ve heard talk about adding even more railroads. This has faced backlash for several reasons. I don’t suppose you would want to hear about that?” Ardant agrees. She moves her finger to tap against an initial written in the corner of the map in the ocean along with a lot of other initials.

The initials are right beside the darkness spreading from the southernmost nation— a barren wasteland filled with terrors and beasts— to the oceans directly surrounding it. Frisk knows this map is recent because the wastelands are encroaching on the borders of Xanthous even more than they were a few months ago when Frisk was still among the people of the surface. The war effort hasn’t ended yet, she supposes, but then again, the council wouldn’t be taking so long to make a decision about the monsters if the war had concluded.

“I would love to hear about anything you are willing to tell me. It has been so long that any piece of information would be beneficial to me. I would not want to look ignorant during my classes,” Diana softly agrees. She scoots a little closer. She gives Ardant her full attention, much to the scientist’s embarrassment. Ardant shakes her head with a slight laugh. She also scoots closer, leaning forward as she starts pointing out various parts of the map and how they could have changed since Diana’s time.

As Frisk said earlier, there is already a class at the academy for this. She does not want to hear the lecture twice. The people who should listen to this lecture are Diana, obviously, and also Chara. Frisk pushes against the edge of the cot. She lands on her back. She continues moving until she sees Chara’s back. She smiles faintly at the goat tail, but she decidedly does nothing about this as she keeps going. She swings her legs over the side of the cot. She squats onto the ground instead of standing. She keeps low to the ground as she moves around the cots until she’s between the one Chara’s on and the far wall. Luckily, she has not aroused Ardant or Diana’s attention. At least, they are not giving her any looks, even if they’re aware that she’s no longer near them.

Chara lies with her knees brought up to her stomach. One arm is bent beneath the pillow she lies the top half of her head on. The bottom half dips onto her elbow. Her other arm lies in front of her. She cups her hands around a dark red-black flames that flickers silently between her fingertips. Chara stares directly into the flames. The firelight is absorbed by her black irises, leaving an orange gleam around her sclera. The rest of Chara’s face is devoid of any emotions.

Frisk crosses her arms over the side of the cot. She sits on her knees. She puts her chin against her forearm. She stares at Chara from the other side of her hand. Frisk smiles at Chara. Hushed, she whispers, “Hello.”

Chara folds her fingers into a fist. She extinguishes the smokeless flame immediately. The corner of the room is left colder and darker for it. Chara’s face, too, is covered in thick shadows that nearly hide her countenance. Frisk’s eyes adjust quickly, and she sees what Chara is trying to hide. Chara turns to glare at Frisk with any real heat behind her eyes. Chara hisses, unintentionally quiet, “What do you want?”

“I want to see how you’re doing. The others are talking about some important stuff right now,” Frisk mentions, gesturing vaguely to the other side of Chara.

“Why should I care about a map? Humans are humans, regardless of what nation they come from,” Chara rolls her eyes.

“Hard to argue with logic,” Frisk admits. She moves her head to the side. From this position, it looks like she and Chara are staring at each other in an upright position. “It might be on the test, though.”

“I don’t care about some fucking test,” Chara buries her face further into the pillow. One of her goat horns digs into the material. If she goes any further, she’s going to rip the fabric. Frisk morbidly imagines it like a body being cut open. The stuffing will fall like blood, and Frisk is certain Chara thinks the same thought as her eyes flick towards the pillow with a strange sort of apathy.

“What’s wrong?” Frisk prompts.

Chara scowls at her. In a moment, anger consumes Chara’s expression. Frisk cannot say it was surprising; she can only say that she doesn’t immediately get it. She supposes she will as Chara leans forward just slightly with the intent to scare Frisk. And she does, certainly, but not in any of the ways she wants to. Frisk isn’t scared of what Chara will do to her; she’s scared of what Chara will do to herself. But for the moment at least, Frisk can be the subject of Chara’s emotions, allowing them to flow like a healthy stream.

“I have a SOUL of HATE, Frisk. What part of that is right?” Chara shoves a fist against her chest with enough force that Frisk wonders if the intent is to commit self-harm.

“It is unheard of, sure, but who are we to decide if it’s right or wrong? It’s the reason you’re alive, Chara. It’s the reason the others and I aren’t consumed by HATE,” Frisk argues. She reaches a hand out toward Chara. The hybrid moves back. It isn’t quite a flinch, but it’s close enough that Frisk stalls in her motions. She leaves her hand open for Chara, however, leaving the choice to Chara.

“How can you be so fucking cavalier about this? You said it yourself— this HATE is the reason you and the others went crazy. You murdered everyone you came upon because of the same thing that is for some reason keeping me alive. And how much longer do we think that’s going to happen? At any moment, I could turn into a beast. I could very well take away the life this SOUL gave you the opportunity to have,” Chara shifts onto one of her elbows. This positions her above Frisk, and Chara takes full advantage of that to loom over Frisk. The human moves away from the cot. She drops her hands into her lap. She tilts her head back to stare at Chara’s harsh expression.

There is, however, a level of fear threading through her words. Chara is scared that her threats are going to come to pass. She’s already become a demon once. She doesn’t want that to happen again. Frisk, for her part, also doesn’t want that to happen. Chara is her friend— her partner. Chara is the sole reason Frisk made it through the Underground both the first and the third time. More than anyone, Frisk wanted to save her, and Frisk is so happy that she has that she isn’t really thinking about what allowed her to get what she wants.

Maybe she shouldn’t be so carefree about the circumstances. But, on the other hand, she doesn’t think Chara needs to be so worried. “What do you hate, Chara?”

“Humans,” Chara answers immediately. Frisk snorts. It sounds like an automatic response from Chara, so Frisk will perhaps arrogantly disclude herself from Chara’s answer. 

“What else do you hate?”

Chara sighs. She shakes her head. She looks around the room. Her eyes eventually train on the wall right in front of her, above Frisk’s head. “I hate… being here. Being away from my family. I hate what happened in the Underground. I hate what happened to all of you. I hate what happened to you. I hate the thing I was. I hate that I am one wrong move from becoming it again. I hate—”

“You hate injustice,” Frisk cuts Chara off. She pushes off her knees to rise to her feet. Frisk’s knees press against the cot. She leans some of her weight against the edge. She moves her hands to Chara’s cheeks, forcing the brunette to look at her. Those dark eyes are fierce, but they tremble slightly as Frisk continues. “You hate when the people you care about are hurt. You hate not being in control of yourself. You hate when there are problems you can’t solve. And there’s so many more things you hate. Just like DETERMINATION fuels me, HATE now fuels you. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. If you hate seeing your family hurt, learn how to protect them with your new powers. If you hate not being in control of yourself, practice self-control and -restraint. If you hate problems you can’t solve, become smart enough or strong enough or fast enough… become enough to solve them. Let this HATE inside of you guide you forward instead of holding you back.”

Chara stares at Frisk. The human stares right back into those HATE-colored eyes. Chara eventually sighs, giving in by leaning into Frisk’s hands. Frisk knows that Chara is more stubborn than she is, so there must be some part of Chara that wants to believe Frisk’s words. Chara peeks her eyes open, moving them toward the top of her vision. “I still think you’re too blithe about this.”

“I have been told that on more than one occasion,” Frisk notes with a small laugh. She shrugs her shoulders. “I just think there’s no reason to make any problem bigger than it needs to be. If HATE is what brought you back to life and gave others an opportunity to come to life, too, then I have to be a little grateful for it, no?”

“Stop talking,” Chara replies. She sounds genuinely angry with that statement, but she doesn’t move away from Frisk, so perhaps she’s willing to forgive. Another piece of evidence for Frisk not being part of the humans Chara hates more than anything in the world.

Frisk will take the small victories where she can get them.

—

At the end of a long dirt road surrounded by fields of tall grass, there is a large house at least three stories tall with a wraparound porch. The house was once painted a soft shade of blue with white accents, but the colors have faded with every passing storm. Parts are even peeling away. The wood is rotting in some places, most notably the four-step staircase leading from the overgrown bushes to the porch’s edge. The door positioned across the porch from the staircase is painted a dark green color, and the glass is covered in a layer of dust so thick that the glass looks brown at a glance. All the windows, however, share this fate. It is a building that has been abandoned for some time, and the uptake shows this fact most clearly.

Despite this, Ellis grabs onto Clover and Natalia’s hands with a bright smile on his face and nostalgic tears in his eyes. He drags them over to the staircase. He releases their hands to climb up the stairs first, testing his weight against each wooden plank. When he finds an acceptable path, he turns around at the top. He offers his hand toward them. Natalia does not take it as she follows his footsteps exactly. Clover brings up the rear, casting a glance over his shoulder at Creed leaning against the side of the military vehicle. The afternoon sun is positioned behind him, and Creed is looking in that direction. Clover pulls his attention away without ever knowing what Creed is looking at exactly.

“This is the porch swing. Some of the older kids installed it when I was younger. It was a gift since they were leaving us behind. We weren’t as sad about them leaving since we could swing on this. It was only after the newness faded that the heartache settled in our chests for most of us,” Ellis calls out, walking around the side of the porch where, true to his words, a white-painted porch swing hangs from two rusting chains attached to the porch’s sunshade. Ellis sits on the edge of the swing near the middle. He teeters from his toes to his heels as he moves the swing. He wears a bittersweet smile as he looks at the horizon between the railing and the sunshade’s edge. “The kids younger than me really loved this, though. They didn’t know who gave this house the swing. All they had were fond memories of it. Seeing their happiness eased some of my reluctance to use the swing again. I would bring out anyone who was having a nightmare. I’d wrap them up in a blanket, and I’d sit out here with them until they were fast asleep. Most of them thought it was only a dream when they woke up the next morning. I didn’t correct them. It helped keep them from faking nightmares just to come out here.”

Clover puts a hand on the railing. He squeezes the wood. He closes his eyes, facing the sun so the warm light spreads across his face. The wind blows through his clothes. The porch swing creaks as Ellis moves back and forth. Clover can almost delude himself into believing he’s at the farmhouse once more. The details about the houses are different, of course, but for this one moment, the sounds and touches he experiences transport him back to a moment for what feels like weeks for Clover but he knows is much longer than that.

“Come on,” Ellis calls out. Clover’s eyes snap open. He turns around. Natalia is sitting beside Ellis. Well, she was, because Ellis had risen to his feet. He moves between Clover and Natalia to the corner of the porch. He gestures toward the direction where the front door should be. He throws a smile over the side of his shoulder. Flowers bloom from the vines framing his face. “Let’s go inside.”

Clover nods. Natalia puts a hand on the armrest to push herself onto her feet. The porch swing continues swaying as the wooden planks squeak unnervingly beneath their feet. Ellis leads the way to the front door. He pulls a key from his pocket. He holds it in the center of his palm for a long moment. The plants attached to his body droop with his emotions. Natalia waits patiently behind him. Clover leans against the doorframe, staring at Ellis. The green-eyed teen wears a conflicted expression as he brushes his fingers against the tarnishing metal. Ellis takes a deep breath. He prepares himself, and he unlocks the door to his childhood home— the orphanage that gave him a place to belong.

As the outside would imply, the interior is covered in a thick layer of dust. It swims in the air, causing Clover’s eyes to burn. Perhaps out of a need to feel closer to his home, Ellis takes a deep breath. This is a bad decision when he starts coughing terribly. The plants around his body curl into themselves, seconds away from withering. Natalia rushes forward to pat the palm of her hand against his back. Ellis calms down eventually. He gives them a sheepish smile. His cheeks flare with embarrassment, and red leaves grow over his cheeks to mask the skin with the same exact shade. He refuses to make eye contact with either of them as he gestures around. “Welcome. I apologize for the mess. We weren’t expecting guests.”

The first room is a mudroom. There is a hall tree right beside the door. The drawers have been removed. The mirror is covered in dust, and the edges are cracking. Despite being designed for shoes, there is not a single pair. There aren’t any coats on the hooks. There isn’t anything sitting on the top. It is as empty as the rest of the house.

Empty, of course, being a loose hyperbole. All the furniture is still in the house. It is covered in dust and frequently has missing pieces, but it is mostly intact. Every bit of personhood, however, has been stripped from this place. There is nothing that designates it as a home that was once filled with children. There are ghosts of this in the form of holes in the wall from fists too tiny to be from an adult or the faded penmanship writing out a list of children and their corresponding heights at any given age. These remnants are fading with time and solitude, leaving a complete shell of a former orphanage.

For the first few rooms, Ellis is a talkative host. He shows them the kitchen where he would make everyone’s meals. He showed them the living room where the children would read books or play puzzles. He shows them the downstairs bathroom that would have a long line whenever it was bath time since this bathroom didn’t have a tub.

But as the rooms progressed, Ellis grew silent with memories and contemplation. The kenopsia lays heavily on his shoulders. His eyes fill with tears when they reach the second floor. He pokes his head through the doors. He leaves them just as quickly. Natalia and Clover stay in the hallway, but they can see the empty beds left in each of the rooms.

Ellis gestures them into a room at the end of the hallway. Natalia and Clover share a glance as they step into the room. It looks like another bedroom. Ellis squats beside the bottom bunk on the left-most bunk bed. Ellis carefully puts his hands on the comforter that was left behind. He smiles faintly, rubbing the material between his fingertips. “This was my room. My bed. I was one of the few people who never had to switch rooms or beds. I was given this one when I arrived, and I kept it for as long as I was here.”

Ellis leans down toward the ground. He pulls out a wooden box from beneath the bed. He drags it into his lap. He pats his hand over the top of it. He lifts the lid to reveal a series of small trinkets. He traces his fingers along the edge of the wooden box. Clover looks over Ellis’ shoulder. There is a thin, black leather notebook. There is a silver bell attached to a green string. There is a glass bottle of purple-black sand with a cork keeping it from spilling. There is a compass that lies with a shattered glass covering. There is a broken wrist-watch. There are more items, but Ellis closes the box before Clover can identify them. “All of my most precious belongings… They are worth no more than the memories I have attached to them.”

He slides the box right back under the bed instead of taking it with him. Clover opens his mouth, ready to offer carrying it for Ellis. Natalia puts a hand on his shoulder. Clover looks at her. She shakes her head. Clover nods, snapping his mouth shut. Ellis rises to his feet. He looks misty-eyed but determined when he turns to face Clover and Natalia. “We have one more stop. The third floor was the doctor’s. His study should be there. If I want to know what the final days of the orphanage were like, the accounts will be there.”

Clover didn’t need the explanation. He would have followed Ellis to whatever corner of this house the ghosts of his past led him to. He appreciates the explanation, however, as he follows Ellis to the dustiest floor of them all. Ellis' feet follow a familiar pattern as he traces his former self’s path to the room at the very end of the hallway. Ellis uses a different key— a golden one— to unlock the study.

The study is notably different from the rest of the house. No less dirty, of course, but it is cluttered with belongings that form snippets of the identity of this ‘doctor’ Ellis mentioned. There are doctorates hung on the wall. There are shelves with heavy tomes arranged haphazardly. The desk is covered in papers, books, folders, and other miscellaneous objects. Clover steps toward a glass container sitting on top of a pedestal. He brushes his fingers along the side. He doesn’t know what the container is for, but he would wager it was once a terrarium.

“The doctor was a thaumaturge for the military. When he was honorably discharged for sustaining several mental disorders, he came back to his childhood home. He opened this house to orphans who came from the war. He wasn’t… all there most of the time, but he gave the rest of us a place to find each other. We had to be grateful for that,” Ellis explains, moving closer to the desk. He shoves a few stacks off the desk, letting them thud when they hit the ground. Ellis uses the key that opened the study to open a few compartments attached to the desk. “I was close with the doctor. I was the one who gave him his medicine. I would tell him about the kids. He was… proud, I would say. It was hard to tell. His emotions were very sporadic and diluted. But on rare occasions,  he was lucid. He would tell me various things about the war and the world. I wrote everything he told me in that journal in my box. Most of what he said was nonsense. All of it was valuable to me.”

Ellis lifts a folder from one of the hidden compartments. He places it on the newly cleared desk. He brings the chair from the edge to himself. He nestles onto it. He swallows thickly, holding the folder up. Clover drifts closer. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but once he’s close enough, Ellis looks up at him with a grateful smile. Clover nods back silently. Ellis turns back to the folder that Clover now realizes is marked with his name.

“One of the doctor’s former colleagues, General Jade, came one day. She wanted to recruit me to her squad. The doctor didn’t want that to happen. He thought I would be drafted into a war I didn’t understand. He was right in a sense. None of us in the orphanage knew much about the war the doctor came from. We knew it killed our parents. Most of us thought it was the perpetually ‘war’ against the beasts in the south, but it must have been something else,” Ellis notes, flipping the folder open. Clover tries not to look, letting his gaze slide to the window behind the desk. He can see Natalia in the reflection. She turns to shelves, her tail swishing behind her and her ears pinned down.

Ellis quietly reads the papers that were left for him by the doctor. Clover feels his heart drop when he hears sniffles. He puts a hand on Ellis’ shoulder. He doesn’t get a response, but Ellis doesn’t shrug him off. Clover keeps his hand there as the green-eyed boy stops crying. With a wet voice, Ellis hums to himself, “That’s strange.”

“What is?” Natalia asks. She tucks her arms behind her back as she moves closer to the desk. Clover shifts to look at Ellis and Natalia once again.

“This symbol at the bottom. Remember how I said the doctor wasn’t all there? He would have delusions a lot. Because of this, the doctor came up with some symbols for his papers to help him. The little kids saw he was doing this without understanding why or what any of the symbols meant. To stop them from messing with his papers, the doctor sometimes wrote messages for them with the symbols. This one means there’s some… riddle on the paper. A question meant to be answered,” Ellis explains, showing them the paper in question. He points toward the symbol at the bottom, some mix between a zig-zag and a circle. Ellis turns the paper back around. “I think I get what the riddle is. Throughout these papers, the doctor kept mentioning books. I thought it was odd, but it might be…”

When Ellis trails off, Natalia moves to the bookshelf. “What books?”

Ellis frowns. He stares intently at the papers. Clover squeezes his shoulder. Ellis glances at him. Clover nods reassuringly at him. Ellis’ lips twitch with a short-lived but earnest smile. Ellis looks back at the paper. He lists the title written across the papers. There are five books in total, but Natalia is only able to find four of them. She sets them on the desk in front of Ellis. He takes the top book. Ellis flips open the book. He scans each page quickly. Eventually, he places the open book on the desk. He taps against a line in the book. “The doctor used the same phrase in the letter he gave me. And right after it is a line about two bell chimes.”

“Is he trying to give you a number code?” Natalia asks. She holds one of the books without doing anything with it. Finding the numbers would require the letters, and as helpful as they want to be, Natalia and Clover know they have no right to look at the letters.

“It’s possible,” Ellis considers. He moves the rest of the books. It takes a little while, but he eventually murmurs the code. “Two, zero, one, five. What do you think it’s for?”

“It might have something to do with the fifth book,” Natalia answers.

“The fifth book…” Ellis murmurs, trailing off. He moves away from the desk to the glass container. He squats in front of it. He moves the key used to open the study’s door and the desk to the pedestal. He unlocks the door, revealing a few books hidden beneath the terrarium. Ellis taps against the book spines. He finds the one he was looking for. Although he tries pulling it out, only the top slides back while the bottom half remains stuck in place.

On the opposite side of the room, one of the shelves moves forward. The trio whirl around to stare at the shelf sliding in front of its neighbors. There is a door with a combination lock embedded into the metal surface. Ellis, Natalia, and Clover share glances with each other as they drift toward the door. Ellis takes the lead, moving his fingers over the spinning dials to lock in the right number combination. When he finishes, the door swings backward, revealing a stone hallway with a descending staircase.

“What was the doctor hiding?” Natalia asks.

“He wanted me to know,” Ellis tells himself as he steps into the hallway. Natalia and Clover share a look, standing at the threshold. Ellis looks over his shoulder. “Would you two like to come with me? I… don’t want to do this alone.”

“We’re in this together,” Clover decides, joining Ellis immediately. Natalia’s tail flicks to the side nervously. She sighs, stepping into the darkness with them. Despite this, she sounds confident when she repeats, “We’re in this together.”

“Thank you,” Ellis says with genuine gratitude in his voice. Ellis leads them into the darkness. When it gets too much for them to see anything, Clover lifts his hand. He has never done this before, but he instinctively finds the right path.

[CLOVER uses the skill ELECTROKINESIS - COVER]

Golden lightning shoots across Clover’s arm from the faintly glowing nebula around his fingertips to his elbow. It moves around, but it never arcs away from his skin. Ellis and Natalia look at it with wide eyes, the brilliant light illuminating their faces completely. Clover takes a deep breath. He almost wonders why it doesn’t hurt, but he reminds himself that this is magic. His skill isn’t going to hurt him unless he overuses it, and right now, he thinks he has enough mana to pull this off.

The group continues until they are at the bottom floor. There is one more door, but there’s no lock for this one. It opens easily when Ellis shoves his shoulder against it. He would have fallen to the ground immediately upon entering if Clover wasn’t quick enough to wrap his arm— the non-electrified one— around his waist. Clover steadies himself, and Ellis gets back onto his feet after a few seconds. Clover moves his arm away, looking around the new space they have found themselves in.

It is a rectangular room, longer than it is wide. There are tables and benches built into the wall surrounding the two sides. They are covered in papers and various apparatus for science or magic. There are blackboards scribbled with calculations on the wall above the tables. The far wall, however, has nothing on it except a fading picture of the goddess and dragon. It is a standard picture, one Clover has seen at church the few times his parents wrangled the entire family into going instead of leaving behind the children they couldn’t be bothered to deal with (including Clover). In front of the picture is another pedestal with another dead terrarium, except this one isn’t completely empty. There is something inside the terrarium that attracts the attention of all three hybrids. Clover would like to say it’s the light coming from the pedestal that draws them closer, but he knows as soon as he turns his electrokinesis off that it is the object inside the glass cage.

It resembles a tiny human wearing a flower as a dress. Tiny twigs covered in spiderwebs sprout from its back in the shape of wings. It has green hair, and the unbloomed buds surrounding its head grow from its scalp similar to the flowers on Ellis’ head. The tiny creature is curled up in a tight ball. It looks fast asleep until those tiny eyes flutter open. There is no pupil or iris. It is only the color of green in varying shades that diffuse across the sclera. The tiny creature makes a quiet noise, reaching a weak hand toward them.

“Oh, no. How long have you been down here for? We need to— Ah, let me see if I have any cookies on me,” Ellis says, reaching through his pockets. Instantly, Clover retrieves the bag from his pocket. Ellis looks at him with surprise. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to—”

Clover presses the bag into Ellis’ palm. “I’m certain.”

“Thank you,” Ellis nods. He opens the bag. He pulls out a cookie. He splits off a crumb of it. He looks around the terrarium until he finds the latch. He lifts it open. He reaches his hand into the terrarium. He offers the cookie piece to the little creature. The little creature takes it immediately. It eats like a starved man— And really, it is.

Ellis removes his hand from the terrarium. Ellis and Natalia lean in front of the terrarium, putting their hands on the edge of the wooden surface. Clover remains standing. He eyes the creature warily. “Is it a monster?”

“No, it’s—” Natalia starts, glancing at Clover.

“How dare you?!” A feminine voice echoes from inside the glass cage. For such a tiny creature, it is loud. The creature flies to the top of the terrarium, standing on the glass. It glares at Clover with its hands on its hips. “I am not a monster. I am a spirit.”

“A spirit? You don’t look like a ghost to me,” Clover responds. Natalia rushes to put her hands over Clover’s mouth. He glares at her, grabbing onto her wrist to pull her hand away. Ellis puts a hand on both of them to bring Natalia out of her panic and Clover out of his rage. The ‘spirit,’ however, does not receive his kind graces, so it is yelling at Clover in a language he doesn’t understand while Ellis explains.

“This is a fairy. I know about them from the storybooks I used to read.”

“I know fairies from a ballet I was performing in,” Natalia adds, bringing her hands away from Clover’s mouth. She shoots him an apologetic smile.

“I am not a fairy. I am the fairy,” The tiny creature calls out to them. They all turn around to look at the tiny creature. It moves some of its hair behind its shoulder. It looks at the three of them like they are hopeless. “Your storybooks and ballets are surely wrong about what I am. I am a high-ranking earth elemental from Elysium. I was a summon contracted with the old guy this workshop belonged to. He stopped coming a long time ago. I’ve been stuck here, unable to return to Elysium.”

There is a moment of silence. Natalia breaks it by whispering, “Can we all agree that we’re confused?”

“Agreed,” Ellis whispers back as Clover nods.

The tiny creature— the fairy— is offended by them. “What are you confused about? I can understand one stupid human, but how can there be three of you all in the same place?”

“We’re not human,” Clover retorts. He gestures with his star-stained hand to the vines hanging from Ellis’ hair and the fox ears moving forward and back on Natalia’s head.

“Hmm… I suppose you are not. It does not excuse your stupidity! What could you possibly be confused about? Elysium is the sacred forest at the center of this continent. The one that humans and monsters… and whatever you are cannot enter. The one filled with elementals such as myself. We are only permitted to leave the forest if we sign a contract with someone with the summoning skill. Does none of that ring any bells in your empty minds?” The fairy drones on.

Clover actually vaguely knows about the forest at the center of the continent. It is unbound by any nation. It was the birthplace of the goddess and dragon. He doesn’t know anything more than that. ‘Spirits’ and ‘elementals’ never came up on the ranch or in the Underground. Neither did this summoning skill.

“I have that skill,” Ellis declares, putting a hand over his heart.

“I would hope so. It is a skill belonging to Greens such as yourself. I am assuming you have a human SOUL,” The fairy tells him. It walks to the edge of the pedestal. It points at Ellis. “You are a Katharos, right?”

“I am. The doctor gave me his last name when he sent me away,” Ellis replies.

The fairy rolls its eyes. “I do not care for how you got your name. I care that you have it. This doctor you speak of was my contractor. It seems he has been disposed of. He told me that if this were to ever happen, I would contract with those who share his family name. It was a sign of their potential. And you, despite being neither human nor monster, have a lot of potential. You could become Viridescent’s proxy.”

“Viridescent?” Ellis repeats. He sounds confused, but it isn’t about the word. It is instead about the context. “Why would I be the proxy of a country I’ve never been to?”

“Why must those with great potential always be hopeless?” The fairy quietly whispers into its hands. It heaves its head upward to stare at Ellis. “Listen well, Green, I am Nepenthes, the fairy of bliss. You will sign a contract with me. In exchange for granting me mana and giving me freedom from Elysian’s divine shackles, I will assist you in fighting battles and strengthening your magic. I will even become your teacher because it appears you are in desperate need of one.”

“Ellis, you don’t have to—” Clover starts.

Before he can finish, Ellis squats in front of Nepenthes. They maintain eye contact as Ellis replies. “I am Ellis Katharos. I will sign a contract with you. I will provide mana and freedom, and you will help me.”

[ELLIS uses the skill SUMMON - CONTRACT]

Clover startles at the screen popping up in his vision. He almost misses the green thread that snaps between Ellis and Nepenthes. It dissipates as Clover glances at them. Natalia looks as surprised as he does. She mouths a question to him. He nods. They both saw the pop-up screen. Just a few days ago, neither of them possessed the basic magic that would let them do this. They have it now. Clover wants to question that, but he can’t stop the worry forming in his stomach as the fairy sits in the palm of Ellis’ hand, quietly chatting to him as if what just happened wasn’t weird and possibly manipulative.

Clover sighs. What a weird day.

Chapter Text

Frisk takes a deep breath. Her hand lingers on the edge of the vehicle’s door. The cold air from the interior clashes with the heated wind moving across the cityscape. Her head tilts back to allow her eyes to lock onto a very specific floor in the brick building. The curtains are closed, but the color is familiar enough that she doesn’t need to look through the glass. A bittersweet smile twists onto her face. The emotion spiral throughout the rest of her body. It gives her enough courage to step away from the side of the vehicle. She turns on her heel as she shuts the door. She watches the awaiting faces of her new friends— the hybrid saved from the Underground— disappear behind the tinted window. She trails her fingertips across the glass. She stops when she reaches the front door. The window rolls down. Creed glances at her. She smiles kindly at him. “Thanks for the ride. Be careful with my friends, alright?” 

Creed nods, accepting her order easily. Frisk doesn’t know if this is because he was going to do that anyway, or if he’s seeing parts of her mother in her. Creed has been, after all, Delphine’s subordinate for many years now. It might be muscle memory at this point to accept orders from an Adamos. Frisk wouldn’t know, though. She doesn’t look much like her mother. She’s always been told that she looks more like her father— from those who knew who he was, anyway.

“I’ll see you at the academy,” Frisk continues, but she turns to look at the faces sitting in the rows behind Creed. Natalia is sitting in the front seat beside Creed. Clover and Chara are in the backseat. These are the three people who are going to be living with the Monsters. Alex is apparently staying with Creed for a little while, and Ellis and Diana are getting dorms at the academy. Rainer already has a dorm he’s returning to when he gets back from visiting his family’s estate. Frisk, technically, has a dorm at the academy already, but she asked if she could be dropped off somewhere else until the day for their return to the academy comes in a week. Although Frisk wasn’t intending for someone to answer her plea since she was going to do it regardless, it was nice of the commander to give her permission.

“Stay safe,” Natalia calls out with a smile appearing on her face. Her ears flatten against the top of her head.

“We will see you soon,” Clover adds, nodding respectfully at Frisk. The nebulous patches around his neck stretch out even further. 

“Behave,” Chara shrugs one of her shoulders. Her goat horns glint in the dim lighting. 

Frisk chuckles. She shakes her head. “I make no promises. Goodbye!”

Frisk waves at them as she pushes away from the open window. Frisk continues taking steps backward. Creed rolls the window up. He pulls away from the sidewalk. He joins the traffic moving through this street. Frisk keeps waving until the vehicle disappears from her line of sight. She lets her hand drop to her side. She stares at the traffic passing by. She sees people walking on the sidewalk in front of her, but none of these people know her. They don’t care about her. They only do if she’s in their way, and given how she’s tucked between the staircase leading up to the brick building’s front door and the streetside wall, no one is scrambling to push her out of the way. They keep walking without even a glance given to the teenager hiding in the shadows of the awning.

Frisk puts her hand on the staircase’s railing. She pushes down and jumps into the air. She swings her legs over the side. She lands on the steps with a flourish. A smile creeps onto her face. She rushes up the remaining steps, her footfalls creating a rhythmic noise. This beat is kept going even when she stops by her fingers pressing against the keypad hanging beside the door. When the correct code is inputted, it makes a beeping noise and the door’s lock clicks open. Frisk pulls the door open, slipping through the crack. The door automatically shuts behind her as Frisk crosses the lobby.

The elevator ride is quick and empty. The radio must have been busted again because it was only playing static. Frisk nods her head along to the static, pretending she’s listening to some better song. The elevator’s doors open. When Frisk steps into the hallway, she finds the music she was looking for. It is muted somewhat by the walls, but it is loud enough that anyone on the floor could hear it. Unfortunately, Frisk can’t figure out what song it is. She doesn’t even know if she likes it. She just knows it is probably going to get really annoying as the afternoon stretches into night.

Frisk stops at the end of the hallway. She looks over the potted plant through the window. The street isn’t any different even from this new angle. The traffic is the same. The people aren’t distinct enough to be anything more than blurring colors passing through. The sunlight is bright as it reflects across the many buildings outlining the neighborhood. Frisk brushes her hand against the glass. She pulls away with a fine layer of dust lingering on her fingertips.

Frisk turns away from the window to a door. The once bright red paint is now a peeling maroon mess. Frisk flicks one of the flaps. She reaches her hand to the door. It is open. Frisk narrows her eyes at it. She shrugs it off. Best case scenario, she accidentally left it unlocked the last time she was here. Worst case scenario, someone has broken in and they’re still there. Either way, Frisk can take care of it. She hasn’t been training at the academy for nothing, after all, and it isn’t like there’s anything worth stealing in the apartment. The burglar is going to discover that almost immediately.

Frisk kicks the door shut with her heel. She tugs off her shoes. She leans out of the threshold of the mudroom to the common area. She scans every detail. Her eyes snap to the dining room light. It is on. It casts a buttery yellow light across the table. There are dozens of papers spread out across the wooden table. There is a figure sitting at the table. They are clicking a pen, looking over the papers. Frisk shuffles forward a half-step. She sees the figure better than she had hiding behind the mudroom’s wall. This, however, also alerts the figure to her presence, and they suddenly look up to make eye contact with her. Red eyes meet red eyes, and Frisk’s face brightens with excitement.

Frisk throws her shoe onto the ground without bothering to glance at where it lands. She slides across the carpet in her socks to the dining room. She catches herself on the doorframe. Her smile lifts her entire face. Her eyes glimmer with happiness. She squeezes the doorframe with her fingers. She leans further into the room. “Kris! You’re here! Did you hear I went missing? Are you here because of me?”

Kris shakes his head. He gestures to the papers on the table. Frisk’s smile drops and she rolls her eyes. She moves her hands away from the doorframe. She purposefully stumbles into the room. She sets her palms against the edge of the table. She glances over the papers. Kris makes no effort to hide them. Frisk has to be the one to avert her eyes when she realizes nearly every single sheet is stamped with a confidentiality stamp. “I should have known it would be councilor business. Did they bring you back because of the Monsters?”

Kris shakes his hand, implying that’s one of the few reasons the council brought him back. Frisk rolls her eyes again. This is what Kris deserves for not even showing a hint of concern about her wellbeing. Frisk pushes off the table. She rolls her shoulders. She supposes that she was asking for too much. Kris isn’t an emotional person, and he’s never been worried when Frisk has wandered off. This is because Kris has some strange sixth sense to find her wherever she goes. It’s also because Kris is a wanderer himself. He doesn’t stay in one place for very long. He tried his best when she was a kid, but once she left for the academy, he went back to his nomadic ways. Any time Frisk disappears, Kris views it as her following in his footsteps. Frisk can’t be mad at him since he has reassurance and plausibility on his side.

Frisk moves into the kitchen. She opens the fridge. It is nearly empty. While Frisk and Kris lived here when she was a child, it hasn’t been either of their homes in a long time. Frisk comes here when she wants to get away from the academy, but she doesn’t stay here long so she doesn’t stock it. Kris, likewise, doesn’t come often enough to need food. He only stays when the council has too many requests for him to handle remotely.

Frisk pulls a water bottle from the top shelf. As she pulls away, she glances over her shoulder at Kris’ back. He needs to brush his hair, Frisk idly thinks, as she speaks about an entirely different matter. “Well, I’ll have you know that I was in the Underground. I’m the reason the Monsters are free. I’m also going to advocate for them to have their own place in the world, so you better be prepared to cast the vote I want you to do when the council holds another meeting. Now, you might be wondering what you’ll get in exchange. I’ll tell you what you’re going to get.”

Frisk takes a long sip of her water for dramatic effect. She closes the refrigerator door with her hip. She slides back from the kitchen to the dining room. She places her arm on the top of his chair. Frisk leans against it. Kris moves back in his chair. He looks over his shoulder at her, giving Frisk all of his attention. Frisk smiles at him. “I have an Origin now. It’s called Annihilation. I haven’t looked into what it is exactly, but that’s not what’s important. Since I have an Origin now, I can replace you on the council. Once I graduate, anyway.”

The council presiding over Carmine is composed of a thaumaturge from each Trait. DETERMINATION is the hardest one to find a thaumaturge for. Kris and Frisk are some of the only individuals in the world to have a Red SOUL. This is why the council puts up with Kris’ behavior. He doesn’t actively engage in many of his responsibilities, but he does the bare minimum. He prefers field work and diplomatic missions as he wanders the entire nation. Frisk asked him once what he was looking for. He didn’t give her any hint of an answer, not a word or his body language. Frisk was left with that question remaining unanswered even to this day.

While Frisk’s identity has been mostly kept secret from the combined efforts of Kris and the commander, anyone who does know about her understands she is most likely Kris’ successor. Unlike the other councilors, Kris doesn’t get a choice about it since Frisk is the only other red Trait around. Kris hasn’t given her any type of training. Frisk blames this on his flighty nature while others think it’s because she’s never had an Origin before. Now that she does, she can be properly trained for her future career.

Kris narrows his eyes at her. He turns his head away, letting his dark hair cover his face in shadows. He doesn’t agree or disagree with her. Frisk frowns, but she drops the matter. She looks over the papers he’s been working on. He makes no attempts to hide anything from her. Frisk would like to say it’s because they’re close or because she’s his successor, but she knows it’s because he doesn’t care enough. He isn’t going to toss these papers from the window or anything, but he isn’t going to stop Frisk from peeking over his shoulder. He’s always been this way. When she was learning how to read, these confidential documents were some of her first full-length sentences. Combined with his selective mutism, Kris is the reason Frisk didn’t talk a lot when she was younger.

“This is good,” Frisk murmurs, gesturing to the papers involving the monsters. There are thorough documents detailing all of the monsters. There are lists of resources that need to be acquired for them. There are maps detailing what land is going to be given to them. Frisk’s lips twitch with a smile. It isn’t as good as it could be since the monsters are just being given the mountain at this juncture, but it’s a lot better than Frisk thought they were going to get.

Her mood sours when she picks up the edge of another paper. “This is less good.”

Kris turns his attention to the paper she’s holding. It has been a week since the monsters were free, and there are already organizations forming that are against monsters. There’s concerns about resources, jobs, housing, and other matters that ultimately end with the only solution being to put the monsters back into the mountain. The council should, theoretically, be strong enough to recreate the barrier since they are meant to be the most powerful thaumaturges of their trait in Carmine. The council has not responded to the organizations, but the silence isn’t discouraging anyone.

“So much for peace, huh?” Frisk asks with a chuckle. She moves the paper aside. She will have to tell the others about it. She needs to be careful about how she tells them, though. If she doesn’t do it right, they’re going to act out. Frisk doesn’t want her friends to get in legal trouble so soon after regaining their lives. This is especially regarding Chara since her HATE SOUL is going to put an even bigger target on her back. Frisk will break her friends out of prison, but she would much rather not have to do that.

“I’m guessing our relationship with Apatite is still strained because of the Adherents?” Frisk asks. Kris nods. Frisk sighs. She pulls the chair out from beside Kris. She falls into the seat. She taps her fingers against the table. “When are they going to realize it isn’t our fault? We’re doing the best we can. Between the Adherents, the bandits, and the beasts in the south, we’re fighting on three different fronts. With the xenophobes in the capital, it’s about to be four fronts. We can’t be dealing with their nonsense about honor. Aren’t they the ones who don’t enforce laws outside of their settlements? Can’t they just consider this outside of their domain and let us handle it the way we do?”

Kris raises an eyebrow at her. Frisk’s nose wrinkles at the implication that look brings. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m not saying we should kill all the Adherents. I’m just saying that if we have to kill one, we shouldn’t be blamed for it. It is the military’s duty to protect the people of Carmine, not the runaways from Apatite. I know they’re more concerned about the drakes than the humans, but they should have done better at keeping the bonded pairs within their borders.”

Frisk sighs. She shakes her shoulders. She sinks even further into her seat. “But I guess you’re right. It is a religious thing for them. I’ve never understood it, but I can’t blame them for what they believe in. All hail the Great Dragon!” Kris gives Frisk another look. She frowns at him. “I have been paying attention in my class, thank you. I know about their religion.”

Kris rolls his eyes back to his paperwork. Frisk lifts her feet to brace against the edge of his seat. Her water bottle falls into her lap. The condensation sends water droplets across her fingers. She tugs at the plastic wrapping. She doesn’t look at Kris as she asks, “Do you know what Carmine’s proxy is?” 

Frisk didn’t know what reaction she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Kris dropping his pen and hurriedly looking at her. His lips part slowly. He narrows his eyes. He scans Frisk’s body. All of a sudden, he brings her status screen to his face. Frisk frowns. She moves her hand through the screen to get Kris’ attention. He grabs her wrist, moving her hand away. He reads the screen. Frisk tugs her wrist from his grip. She leans back in the chair. She rubs her wrist with her other hand as she speaks, “I heard it in the Underground. Some weird monster called me that. I thought it just meant that I’m from Carmine, but you’re acting strange, Kris. What does it actually mean?”

Kris looks away from Frisk and the screen. He stares into the distance at nothing in particular. When Kris’ attention snaps back to Frisk, he taps his finger against the word Miracle listed at the bottom of the screen. Frisk scoots closer. It is added to the bottom as if it is even greater than an Origin. Frisk’s hand hovers above the word since the screen’s are made from magic, not solid material. Underneath the word, RESET is written in orange-tinted letters. Frisk tries tapping the button, but it isn’t a button to be pressed.

“So, a proxy is someone with a Miracle? Does the Carmine part talk about where I’m from, or is it tied to RESET being my Miracle?” Frisk asks. Kris holds up two fingers. Frisk rubs her chin. She stares at her screen for a moment longer. “Are there other proxies?” Kris shrugs. “How helpful. No, I mean, that is helpful. You’ve been helpful. Thanks for telling me. I’m going to take a nap. I’m heading to my dorm at the academy tomorrow. If you order takeout for tonight, I’ll bring donuts in the morning. Sound like a deal?”

Kris gives Frisk a thumbs up. Frisk grins. She gives Kris a side-hug. He hugs her back. Frisk pulls away. She throws the half-full water bottle at Kris as she leaves the room. He catches it, dropping it onto the table in one of the few spaces where there isn’t any paper. Frisk giggles to herself. She turns on her heel, heading toward the hallway where the bedrooms and bathroom are branching off from. She listens to Kris click his pen and their neighbor blare music as she crashes into her bed. Quickly, she finds herself slipping into sleep.

Chapter Text

Early morning sunlight cascades through the glass windows, illuminating the kitchen in a warm golden glow. It is bright enough that Clover doesn't need to turn the overhead light on to read the cookbook he's propped up against a metal stand painted white. He follows the instructions printed out in the cookbook's faded pages except for when his grandmother's handwriting in the margins notes that an ingredient should be swapped out or the amount to be measured out needs altering. The breakfasts she cooked for him and his grandfather were always delicious, so he trusts the advice she wrote many, many years ago.

Clover believes that trusting her was the right choice. Although he isn't quite finished cooking (the cinnamon toast is still in the oven), Clover's taste-tests have proven that the rest of the dishes turned out great. He doesn't think it's quite to the standards of his grandmother, but he doesn't doubt his grandfather would have eaten it and only given Clover a little bit of trouble for his efforts. That's the highest praise his grandfather could have ever given, after all.

A loud, persistent dinging noise draws Clover out of his thoughts. The hybrid hurries over to the dial-up timer he left on the counter. It's easy to notice, not just because it's shaking but also because it's painted bright white and red against the warm brown-black countertop. Clover holds it in the palm of his head, shutting it off with a few twists of the dial. He puts it right back on the counter, transferring his attention to the oven. He has the foresight to put on the oven mitts before he opens the oven. As hot air creates nebulous clouds on his cheeks, Clover pulls out the pan. He sets it down on top of the gas stove. He turns the oven off with one hand while the other one fans the pieces of toast. When he finishes with the first task, he focuses on the second one.

Clover remains in place for a little while. He stares at the pan. His stomach rumbles, coaxing him into more productive thoughts. He goes over the lessons he's been receiving, mentally preparing him for the pop quiz Frisk and Rainer knew was going to happen today. Clover has no reason to doubt them, especially when the academy is their area of expertise. If they say they group will be tested today, Clover is going to make sure he's ready for it, if only because he's too prideful to be the only one who fails the test.

Clover continues repeating these facts in his head as he's joined in the kitchen. Three out of the four members of the Feisty Four—if they're still calling themselves that—bound into the kitchen. Despite the liveliness of their competition to get the best pieces of food, Clover can tell just by partially listening to their conversation and seeing their movements that they're still in the throes of sleep. Ace is already slipping into the dining room (a strange sight, Clover will admit, if only because he and his grandparents never ate there except for Sunday dinners and holidays) by the time Starlo comes down to join them.

Starlo's first order of business is to nudge Mooch out of Clover's way when the hybrid is moving the pan from the stove to the countertop. He doesn't see her steal it, but there's an empty spot where a piece of toast should have been. Clover doesn't need to look at her plate to know Mooch was the one to take it. He is slightly impressed by her thieving skills.

"It smells great, Clover," Starlo says, looking over at the myriad of dishes Clover made this morning. It isn't any more or less than the dishes he makes every other morning, and just like those mornings, Starlo's face contorts with concern and guilt. "Are you sure you don't want help cooking breakfast? I know how to make a few dishes."

Clover politely shakes his head. There's a reason he does this every morning. It makes him feel closer to his grandmother, especially because he's following her annotated cookbook. It's also the chore he's given himself since there aren't any animals to be wrangled on the ranch anymore. Most of all, though, Clover does this because it's a service he can provide Starlo and the Feisty Four (three, technically, since Moray is with his parents for the time being). It won't ever be equal to convincing Frisk to ruthlessly cut monsters down in a timeline that no longer exists, but it does make it easier for Clover to breathe knowing that he's doing something.

"If you say so," Starlo shrugs. Side-by-side, he and Clover make their plates. They go into the dining room to eat with the others. Ed and Mooch are debating about this or that, helped along by Ace adding fuel to the fire. Starlo occasionally gives his input. Clover sometimes laughs, but he's mainly concerned with finishing his plate and recalling anything that could possibly show up on the quiz.

When breakfast concludes, the others rush upstairs to finish getting ready. Starlo brings the dishes to the kitchen. Clover would wash them himself, but he heads outside to start the truck's engine. This was his grandfather's truck. It's extremely old. Parts of it are still rusting, but Clover managed to fix everything he needed for the truck to start. At least, it starts more often than not, and Clover heads out early every morning to make sure it isn't one of those 'not-days.'

The truck only needs a good kick to the side to start working today. Clover smiles, pulling himself into the driver's side. He's old enough to drive. He legally shouldn't, though, since he doesn't have a proper license, though. Clover never cared about that before, though. When he was a younger, he would drive his grandfather's truck all the time. He would drive other machines, too, like the tractor. He's skilled enough that Commander Adamos arranged for him to have a temporary pass, though she highly encouraged him to get a real license as soon as possible.

Clover messes around with the radio. Static, static, static, mostly music with a touch of static. He settles for that right as the door to the ranch-house swings open. Ed, Ace, and Mooch file out first. Since there's no backseat, the three of them climb into the truck bed. Clover looks at them from the mirror. He wonders how his grandfather would have reacted to know there were three genuine monsters in the back of his truck. He chuckles to himself at the imagery that conjures.

(He stops laughing when his attention snaps to himself. He can almost forget he's not human anymore, but that's only when he's not looking into his own eyes, or at his hands, or the other parts of his body stained with the night sky and the cosmos beyond it.)

Starlo leaves the house next. He lingers to lock the door using the key Clover was told to give him since Starlo is his guardian right now. Starlo tucks the keys away somewhere, heading toward the truck. Instead of hopping into the back, the passenger door opens. Starlo pulls himself into the spot. Clover arches a brow at the monster. Starlo smiles back at him. "I'm going to see those three all day long."

Clover shrugs, unable to argue with that logic. He starts driving, following the dirt path leading away from the ranch-house. As they're riding alongside the acres now technically belonging to Clover, Starlo asks, "How's school going?"

"Fine," Clover answers. And it is. He's been enrolled for a few weeks now. It wasn't at all what he thought it was going to be, but he didn't have many expectations in the first place. He was home-schooled at a child. He didn't learn anything more than what he needed to know to inherit the ranch and become a warrior of justice. Luckily, he isn't the only one with a lacking education. Ellis was also home-schooled. Diana was from a time so far in the past that she needs to catch up on history. Alex and Natalia didn't originally go to good schools. Chara didn't go to school at all, though she did have a few lessons with Toriel (from what Clover understands, anyway). Frisk and Rainer were the only ones with proper schooling, so they've been helping the others, including Clover, catch up and excel.

Starlo stares at the side of Clover's face for a long moment. When Clover doesn't say anything else, the star-shaped monster exhales. "You've been going to school every day. Do you really have nothing else to say about it?"

Clover turns onto a street made from asphalt. It won't be long until they're in Ebott City. He knows Starlo would be silent until then if Clover didn't want to talk, and that's the very reason he scrounges up something to tell his passenger. "There's a school festival coming up."

Starlo's eyes widen. "That's exciting!" Clover can tell Starlo doesn't really know what a school festival is, but it isn't like Clover knew what it was before, either. "Are you doing anything to help out?"

"I'm not sure." At the academy, students are divided into classes based on their traits. These classes will be doing volunteer work and participating in the games. Clover is not with the JUSTICE kids, though. He's in his own little class with the other hybrids and Frisk. None of the faculty have told them if they're doing anything. They probably won't since they're remedial kids, at best.

"Well, if you did end up doing something, do you think I could come?" Starlo asks. Clover nods since anyone from the public can come. Starlo looks toward the road. "Would you want me to come?"

Clover hesitates, but he ultimately nods his head with a smile. Of course, he wants Starlo to come.

"In that case, I'll come," Starlo replies with his own smile, far larger than Clover's own.

The conversation fades. It isn't silent, though, because of the radio, the wind around them, and the three monsters chattering in the bed. Clover sinks into this white noise. He starts focusing on the road ahead of him more when they get to Ebott City. Through the winding city streets, Clover eventually arrives at the career center. Moray is already waiting outside. His face lights up when he sees his friends. The monsters in the back hurry to greet him. Starlo opens the door to follow them, but he lingers. He turns around, setting a hand on Clover's shoulder. "Have a good day. Make good choices."

Clover nods. "You, too, partner."

Starlo beams, not unlike the star he resembles. He leaves the truck, hurrying over to his friends. Together, the five of them head into the career center where the workers are graciously teaching the monsters any skill they want to learn to become productive members of Hometown. Clover knows Starlo's debating between police officer (a proper sheriff) and a farmer. Clover isn't going to give advice if it isn't wanted, but he hopes Starlo knows he'll support whatever decision the monster makes.

Clover doesn't remain there. He has a long drive ahead of him. He needs to head to Hometown itself to pick up Natalia (and more than likely Chara because she doesn't like the 'royal escort' her parents want her to have for political and safety reasons) and take them to the academy. It isn't so long of a drive that Clover refused to do it. He likes helping out his friends, and he likes driving. Nothing to complain about other than the radio.

Hometown is a settlement at the base of Mt. Ebott, close enough to the city that it could almost be considered a part of it. The monsters, however, are insisting on remaining separate to maintain some autonomy. While the humans weren't exactly eager to give the land away, Rainer says that the mountain never belonged to the humans, anyway. It was always in the monsters' name which is why they can make the new capital to their kingdom on the mountain. As soon as he learned the monsters were safe in their own settlement, he stopped listening to the politics of it all.

He likes Hometown, though. It's still small since they've only been building the essentials and places for housing, but constructions is happening every day. The streets are steadily expanding outward with structures rising on either side. In one of these freshly made neighborhoods, Clover puts the truck in park. He hears a noise coming from the back, but he keeps his eyes on the front door of one particular household instead of reprimanding Chara for her current actions. The front door opens. Natalia slips out with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder. The fox ears poking out of her hair twitch, and her tail flicks outward as she runs down the dirt path from the porch to the truck. She, like Clover, doesn't pay any mind to the stowaways in the back as she climbs into the passenger side.

With everyone secure, Clover begins the drive to the academy.

Natalia plops the duffel bag in her lap. She wraps her arms around it, clinging tightly to the material. She buries her face into it with a heavy sigh despite the seatbelt tugging against her chest. Clover arches a brow at her. After a moment, she turns her head, keeping her cheek on the bag but looking at him. "How are things with your guardian?"

"Good," Clover answers immediately. Things with Starlo are good. The monster is more than a little awkward, but he's trying so hard that Clover has no reason to complain. "Is Ceroba abusing—"

"What? No!" Natalia cuts him off. Clover relaxes, unaware that he'd tensed up. He supposes he just doesn't like the thought of that. Natalia is his friend; he doesn't want to see her hurt. He especially doesn't want to see that abuse coming from the monster who volunteered unpromptedly to care for Natalia until the hybrid is of age. Situations like that always make him angry, causing the yellow in his chest to flash like an electrical storm.

Natalia sighs, leaning back in her seat. She looks out the window, but Clover can still hear her voice. "It's nothing like that. Ceroba has been kind to me. Kinder than she has to be, even. It's only… It's tense. Uncomfortably so. I was hoping it would be less intense by now. It's not."

Clover nods slowly. No one has outright said how they were killed, but the memories were jumbled together when they were all united by HATE. Clover knows the broad strokes of what Natalia went through, both at her deathbed and just before it. Her experiences with the Ketsukane family aren't particularly good. There's definitely injustice there, but it's too late for Clover to do anything for the one who fell before him.

"It will get better. It just takes time. As long as you two communicate, understanding will follow," Clover offers. He wishes Ellis was here. He'd know what to say.

Then again, maybe Clover isn't completely out of his league because Natalia smiles at him. "Thanks, Clover. If you're so confident, it must be true."

He hopes it's true, anyway. Natalia likely shares in his hopes.

They drop the heavy subject. Natalia starts talking about their classes and her hopes to join a ballet extracurricular. Clover listens, occasionally replying with words rather than hums, grunts, and nods. He keeps his eyes on the road, sometimes checking the back to see Chara lying low and staring at the clouds as they pass. Although part of him wishes their other friends were here, too, Clover is content with this, glad to be alive and happy to be righting his wrongs.

He does, however, get to join his other friends when they finally arrive at the academy. After parking, the three of them (no one mentions how Chara got here) head to the classroom their unit has been using for their studies. It is one of the smallest rooms with several tables. There are no decorations, and there isn't any new technology. Then again, even the 'old tech' is stuff Clover has never seen before.

The other five are already in the room. Rainer sits across from Ellis, Diana, and Alex, helping the three of them study and specifically helping the latter focus. Frisk sits on the edge of the table, looking out the window. The first thing Clover hears is Rainer asking Frisk a question. Maybe he wanted to catch her off-guard, but she answers immediately and correctly, proving that she was listening.

Ellis notices them first. A smile grows on his face, flowers blooming in his hair. The scent causes Chara's nose to wrinkle and Natalia's tail to dart out like an ash-colored flame. He thinks the scent is also the reason why Rainer whips his head around to look at them. This sudden movement causes Diana, Alex, and Frisk to focus. They're happy to see the kids who live off-campus, too, marked by smiles of various sizes on their faces.

Clover, Natalia, and Chara join the impromptu lesson. Frisk turns around, paying more attention now that everyone is gathered around the table. Clover already knew this, but Rainer is a good teacher. He's methodical and intelligent. Most importantly, he's patient, almost as much as Diana and that's her SOUL trait. This patience is necessary given how uneducated they are and how difficult it is for Alex to pay attention for long periods of time.

Rainer's lecture ends when the door slams open. Everyone turns to look, already knowing that it's Professor Roman. The man is old and wrinkled, yet surprisingly spry, reminding Clover of his grandfather. Professor Roman shares many aspects of his grandfather's attitude, too, with a grumpy demeanor and gruff way of speaking. "Scatter. You're taking a quiz. No cheating."

As they were ordered, the students disperse to the tables they were assigned the first day of class. Rainer, Natalia, Clover, and Ellis at one table; Chara, Frisk, Alex, and Diana at the other. When Clover glances over at the other table, Frisk mouths to him and the others, 'Told you!'

Clover's lips twitch with a smile. He looks away from her and toward the paper Dr. Roman sets in front of him. As he predicted this morning, this quiz has almost everything they've been studying thus far. Clover thinks it's meant to tell Professor Roman what they're still struggling with. Or maybe it's to show Professor Roman's superiors how he's been faring as a teacher. Either way, Clover wants to do his best.

The test takes a long time because of how thick it is. Even Rainer, who finishes the tests first, takes his time with it. By the time there all finished, it's time for lunch. Afterwards, they'll have their afternoon classes which consists of physical training and combat lessons, the only time they are split into their traits (some of them, anyway. Frisk and Chara, with their unique traits, have their own private lessons).

Before they do leave, though, Professor Roman stops them. "The council wants to see you eight. A military vehicle will take you tomorrow. Be ready for that."

Clover frowns. A few of the others try asking the professor various questions, but he doesn't tell them anything more. Instead, he kicks them out, claiming he needs to grade their tests. They're forced to go to lunch with all these questions in their head about what the council could want with them.