#forgotten tale

[nebula-starlight]

Hmm it’s quiet... too quiet.

This is odd....

[zatxrn]

Forgotten (Undertale AU) {26.05.18}

Chapter Three

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So you found yourself a guardian? And a saviour? I must say, you are rather lucky. So very lucky. Two saviours in one day. I congratulate you on this luck. This lucky streak of yours. More lucky than any of the past fallen humans. They were all so weak. So very weak. And their spirit. . . It sure was funny to watch them become broken. Detached from their souls. Give up completely and watch the determination they worked so hard for turn on them and destroy them. To completely rip them apart from the inside. They became empty shells. Easy target for the predators who lurk in this “peaceful” world that you fell into. It was funny to watch their souls crack and crumble. Shake and break. Split in half. Form back together. And then become still. My child, you do know the flower is a murderer, yes? An evil conniving spirit. And you accepted his help. Were you really that desperate? Or did you just not know any better? I cannot blame you, for you are only a child. A sweet innocent child. Or are you really as innocent as you seem? What’s with that look? Those eyes. . For a second, I thought I saw a flash of murderous spirit. For a second I thought I saw the dust of millions of innocent monsters on your hands. For a second I saw you pass judgement on this world. I saw you erase it. All the hard work you did. . She did. . It really seemed to pay off in the end. My dear child, why do you look so frightened? Surely I couldn’t have scared you? I did tell you that I would pass judgement on you. That I would look so deeply into your soul. And then I would pay you the best I could. The best I can. The best I will. Mercy. Spare.

Mercy. Mercy. Mercy. Mercy. M̷̢̡̡̢̢̡̛͇̬̫̟͇̮̜̰̣̦͕͔̻͎̳̲̖̺͇̤̳̱̘͓̲̝̘̙̘͇͓̭͚̪̦̖̀̆͗̊̿̐͐̽̀̈̊̌̽̌̑̏̇́͗̎̂̂̚̕͜͝͝͝͠ę̷̢̨̨̠̟̯̯̟̞̦̲̰̺͕̱͎̯͖͚̹̱͍͈̺̳̟̟̪̗͙̬̠̺̣̠̠̼̝͂̈́͐̌̐͋̑̎̀̽̉̐͛͜͠ͅŗ̸̛̝̦̙̖̻̖͉̤̮̹̭̖̼̹̘̗̼̱̺̞̫̠͍̮̮̳̽̈́̓͌̊̏͗̎̃̽̆͆̾̈̊̈́̈́́̈́͐̄̐͒͗̂̍̋͆̆͛̌̃̓̋̚̕͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅc̸̡̨̧̳͔̹͙̼̥͚̰̥̫͖͖͚̼̲̲͙̪͈̯̯̻̬̮̪̰͓͎͎̲̻̘̩̍̒̅̄̈͆̃́͛̆̒̋͋̍͐̋̈̓̂̃̍̓̍͜͝͝͝͝y̴̧̧͙̪̳͕̫̪̪͓͍̬̤͇͇̙͕̪̝̳͖̯̜͕̞̫͈̲̙͎̩̓̌͆͊̉̄͗̄̽̊͗̒͛̇͒̓̿͋̄̅̎͋̉̅̎̓̐͗̐̇̈́͊̚͠͝ͅ.̶̡̜̱̫̳͕̹̫̝͇̫̘̳̬̥̄̐̾͐͊͆ Ỳ̴̠̱͇̓ò̵͕̬̥͂̂̃̍̇͑̆ư̷̗̐̎̑͒̿́ ̴̖͖͍͂̈́́̄͌͝Ṣ̷̘͔̫̼̝̰̓̓̚T̸̺̬̳̝̅̉͐̔͌̃Ú̵͇̦͉̥̱͌͘P̶̛̋͜Ï̶̡͔̯̳̑̍̄͑͌̑͝D̵̦̠͑́̒̑̈,̶̛̛̟͍̻̄̀͊̕͝ ̶͇͈̀͌̈́̀I̵̠̲͎͈͉̐D̷̨͔̬̘̪̓̃͛̋͝͠I̴̱͔̘̍̍͜͠O̴̡̢͓̱͔̻̜͊̒͒T̸̹̝̭̦͎̜̑́̿I̷̮͚̲͈̯̮̅͑͌͐̊̈́͆C̷͍̟͓̝͆͜ ̷̲͉͚͑́̀̾̉͐́̕c̶̻̺̿̒͑̕͝͝h̸̋̓͆̀ͅi̶͍̟̥͂̍̉͋ļ̶̛͓͚̟̺̘̱͆͗͋̀͌̉̀d̴̞̪̉͑̉͝.̶̛̻͌͐̿ ̸͔̲̞̙̘̑̽͝͝Ḑ̸͍͙̤̣͇̓͂̊̊̾ợ̶̞̈́̑ ̷̫̤̚ÿ̶͖̹̰͕̩̠̪͛͂̓̊̕͜͝o̵̥͙͇͎͈̞̝̿̒ų̴̮̠̯̱̟̪͉̍̔ ̴̯̃͒̾̈͂̏t̶̡̤͚͔̭̺̺͛̔̒h̴͎͕͚̟͙̤͕̤͋į̵̠̙̞͈̪͙̖͌͑̐̂̔̾͝͝n̴͓̻̈́̌k̸̢̛̟͎̫̙̭͈̉͂͠ ̵̢̪̺̹͌̾̍͂͗͌͋̑Ę̴̧̬̮͍͗ͅV̷͎̭̲̐͂̉̓̈́͜E̸̛̛̛̲͖͉̙͍̼̮͍͛͆̅͗R̵̫͎̘̟̣̫͙̞̃͛̈́͛͛́̾Y̸̖͕͂̾̑̊́͝T̵̡̛̝̙̪̻͎̦̔̄̔̅̚H̸̨͇̟͇͓̫͇͇̒̈̎̾͝Ḭ̸͇̻̉̓͆̈́͝N̸͍̝̣̙̘̺̎̉͛̈́̐̕Ģ̴̛͚͍̞̼̭̺̌̓̾͛̀̕̕ ̶͔̱͌̾̉̿͝c̸͚̞̈̓͝å̸̢̯̣̟̭͛̈́̏͛̈́̚͠ņ̸͈͈̈́̓̐̿ ̷̰̭̯̮̦̗̠̎̌̓̏̓̐̌́b̸̹͈̦̦̜̮̹͊͝ě̴̡͖̲̳̳́̈́͂̉͒͆͘ͅ ̴̯̲̞̥͉̩͍̄s̸̨̜͓͖͇̪͐́͆̕o̷̳͒̀ľ̶̛̩̱̟̠̪̻̹̈̀̈́̀̀v̷̠̌́e̸̠̭̱̲̅̅͑d̵̟̽̇̌̉͊͐͝ ̵̧͕͇̹̲̭̪̬͆w̷̛̱̰̱͖̻̻̤̆̈́̈͌̅̂̍i̵͙̋t̶̯̣͙̼̖͇̫͌̔̑̽̆̌̽͛h̷̤͚̄̒̀ ̴̧̹̭̞̙̼̰̓̎͑́̎͜͠M̶͔͇̄̾̎͜͜E̶̹̜̳͙̳̓̈́̄̃͒̉͠R̵͕̙̦̠̣͎̯̓͗̌͒͝Ć̸̨̬͖̮͙̗̩̾͛Ý̷̡̝̦?̶̡̟̎

I’m sorry, my child. My dear child. I must’ve lost my composure there for a second.

I didn’t mean to scare you. Oh it was just an accident. A poor, poor accident. Why do you look so frightened? That look in your eyes. . Why do I sense such distrust within you? Your heart. . Oh how it pounds. How it pounds that sweet blood around your body. How it powers your soul. How determination runs in your blood. Through your veins. That soul. . How I wish to take that heart and watch it beat in my open hand, then c̶̡̦̳̱̲̲͈̻̈̾̌̽̊r̴̭͔̖͌̃̀͛̊̕ụ̴̦̓ş̵̛̬̝̙̐͋̇̽̍͝h̴̤̦̙̺̟̖̍̓̓̃͑̈́͛͊ it and watch you crumple and fall. Your chest, how it rises and falls, those powerful lungs of yours. Hard at work. A life. Your skin, it’s so soft. Those cheeks flushed with colour. Draining with fear. That blood, so warm. So fresh. I can almost taste it on my tongue. W̶̜̰̎͆̿̆o̴͇͔̰͈̪͍͌ͅͅņ̶̮͔͈̩̳̗́͑̊̈͘̕’̶͖̺̫́̽͑̀̈̒̚͘ͅt̴̤̥͖͇̻̖̼͍͂ ̷͍̠̬̻̙͛͜y̴͖̝̬͉͎͆͂ŏ̴̧̹̦̥̻̹͓̙͂̈́̉͐ṵ̶͖̫͉͈̿̑̽̄̋́ͅ ̶̣͔͂l̵̲̪̜̬͛͜e̵̥̬̞̐̍͒̀̄̂̆͐t̵͚͑́͑ ̸̛̰̳̗̜͓͗̈́̒̈́̏̚̕͜m̸̛̗͠e̴̢̬̙̞͊͌́̊ͅ ̴̨̛͙̯͍͓̲̦̙̊͆͑ṱ̶̡̭̹͗̽̎́̚͝a̴͖̣̠̟̒̒͒̕k̷̙͊̉̊̃̐͘ĕ̸̟̱̮̱̱̥̊̂̚͜͠ ̶͎̱̦͓̱̽̇̕͝ͅa̴̼͕̺͈̐̆̆̇̎͌͝ ̴̛͎͓̺̗̻̠͂̐̌̇̑̅͘b̷͖̑i̷̲͒͒̍̑͝t̸̞̩͍̣̠͛͆̊̌̐̆͝ͅė̶̘͇̻̹͇̈́?̵̳̱̩͔̱̘̿̓̿́ͅ I’ll savour the taste of it on my tongue. Those lungs that breathe in air. Oh those lungs I wish to pull apart. To spread them like wings. I wish to string you up. My little bird. I wish to admire you. For you, will be the one to free me. Your soul. Your soul will act as a suitable payment. My dear, dear child. You have nothing to fear. Please smile. Do not look at me with such distrust. DO NOT LOOK AT ME LIKE I AM THE ENEMY. I will watch over you. I will guide you. And you will repay me. You aren’t alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. ALONE. But nobody came. Not a soul. Not a single soul. I am here. I will be your saviour. This world. This timeline. This life you seek. It’s all just temporary. The friends you make. The enemies you make. The food you consume. And the air you breathe. It will all be dust at the end of the day. Yet. . This timeline, it feels so different. What have you done? Mercy? There you go again with that mercy talk. You are just a child. You do not understand how the world works. You present your soul to them, as if it’s a shield. But you truly have no idea, that they will take it. Abuse it. And leave you for dead. I will have no escape. From this void. From this prison. This prison of silence and solitude. Your soul. How it truly glows. Not a single speck of black hate within that crimson glow. So you aren’t totally rotten? Are you? Are you? Are you? Are you? Are you rotten to the core, my dear child? Those sins. I still see them. Crawling. Crawling. Crawling. Growing each day. Judgement day grows closer. With each step you take, my dear child.

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The millions of light orbs flow around the two walking beings, making their way through the catacombs of the Ruins. The child glances around, watching as all the dark, frightening shadows become warm and much more friendly with the light of the orbs. They seemed to flutter like fireflies, guiding the way as they walked. The kind lady’s gentle grip on the child’s hand, a comforting feeling. One that made them feel warm and safe. Like they had nothing to fear. “My dear child, when you are with me, you will never have anything to truly fear. I will always be here to protect you. As if you were my own. I will never let anyone hurt you”. The child relax’s slightly and smile’s up at Toriel. That innocent look glimmering in their dark eyes. An innocent look filled with hope. Determination. So different from the look of fear that had previously shown in their eyes. When they’d been lost. Alone. And frightened. But now. That look. It was the same comfort the tiny child had felt when the Flower had spoken to her. There had been a sense of connection. A sense of feeling. A feeling of shared empathy? A memory. Why did that flower seem so familiar yet so unfamiliar? A flower with no soul. Using empathy? How odd. Is that really possible? Hatred and anger. Yet empathy. This timeline really does feel different. Yet the human doesn’t realise it. Obviously they don’t. They are just a young child. One who has forgotten how they even ended up here. Who they even were.

They come to an already lit up room, the orbs of light automatically vanishing, leaving the child to whimper at this sudden change. Something warm. And comforting. It’s gone. Not for long. You are never alone, my dear child. Or so you think. The kind goat lady stoops down to the child’s level, gently brushing away the tears that have formed. “My dear child, I must ask something of the utmost importance from you. When I leave you, I would like you to walk down to the end of this hall”. The small child clings to Toriel, shivering slightly. The thought of being alone again. It was positively terrifying for them. Please don’t leave me. First the flower. Please not you. Please stay. But with a reassuring smile, Toriel straightens up, letting go of the child’s hand and turning on her heel. Leaving the child behind. An act of heartlessness or a test? They watch as her figure recedes and she becomes only a mere shadow. Is it their imagination or does it seem to be getting darker? As if the torches that light the way, are slowly diminishing. They let out a cry of fear as something slithers against their ankle, travelling all the way up to their wrists and holding them in place. No! What is this? Tendrils? Vines? What is this? Before they know it, they are surrounded by pitch black darkness.

And only silence.

Do you hear that? Silence? I know I heard it too. Can you feel the air around you? It’s heavy with your sins and fears. Heavy like lead. So heavy that you can’t breathe. That your lungs slowly begin to collapse. Can you feel the blood in your veins? It’s thick. Too thick to pass through those very veins. Those very veins that burst, showering the ground with deep red blood. It gushes out in large puddles. Can you feel the air in your lungs? Heavy as lead. Poisonous as lead. It chokes you. Your eyes roll back into your skull.

But there’s more to come.

You know there’s more to come. Even the skeleton knows there’s more to come, he can just feel it in his bones.

The air. It crushes you, depriving you of much needed oxygen as you sink to your knees.

“Enough of this!” a voice howls, bursting through the darkness and illusion which surrounds the child. The midnight tendrils vanish and the child looks up, just as the darkness clears and. . .

And. . .

Vegetoid cackles softly as it rises from the dirt, midnight tendrils squirming behind it, accompanied by slimy noises and it’s face. It’s face. .

Oh God, it’s face.

Distorted into a twisted grin. Leathery skin ripped at the edges of that wide manic smile. The small child whimpers in fear as they back away slowly. Yet the Vegetoid advances dangerously on them. No. No. No.

The slimy tendrils of this twisted looking monster slither along the ground quickly, one wrapping around the poor youth’s ankle and yanking them down.

They let out a cry as everything goes dark again. They cry out for help. But nobody came.

*Battle Mode Engaged

The tendril releases them and they are allowed to scuttle up quickly, breathing heavily. “Farmed locally, very locally. Part of a complete breakfast”. Does a normal Vegetoid even have tendrils? Or a face like that? Was this all a bad dream? It was too late to find out. A tendril swung forward, aiming for the child’s chest. Aiming straight for home. Their heart. Their soul. Oh no. No. No. They’ve already lost too much health. “Eat your greens”. They duck and roll. Rolling off the path and into a pit of red crinkly leaves as the same voice gives another howl.

“I SAID ENOUGH!”

There’s a loud whooshing sound from overhead and then Vegetoid gasps as hundreds of white “friendliness” pellets strike it. It vanishes, leaving behind a pile of dust.

The child gives a frightened sob, burying their face into the crinkly red leaves. Why? Why? Why couldn’t have things just been simpler than this? Easier. “Hey! Now’s not the time to sit there and cry like a coward! Get up!” the voice of the forever angry flower yells, vines rising up from under the leaves and picking the small child up gently. Even if he was angry. Even if he had no soul. They were just a child. He had to be gentle. He was their guardian. He promised himself he’d watch over them.

He placed them down on the ground and glared at them. “The pathway is clear, now get going before I give you something to cry about!” The flower vanishes again and the child slowly gets up, brushing away their tears and feeling slightly foolish. They had done nothing to help. It was the flower that had to deal with that monster. .

Why were they even crying? From fright? Anger? Sadness? Or plain disappointment at how they couldn’t help?

For now it would be a mystery as they quickly walked down the pathway, coming to a white pillar that seemed just a tad bit out of place. Could someone be hiding behind it? Or are you really on your own? Alone. Abandoned. Just like your memories chose to abandon you, my dear child.

The oddity of that pillar makes them frown a little bit, but they brush it off, knowing it fills them with the determination to move towards the doorway. To move onto the next room. To grow stronger. To make the flower and make Toriel proud.

“My dear child!” a voice cries out. Toriel’s voice? The child whirls around, smiling as the kind lady envelopes them in a warm hug that smells like butterscotch with faint undertones of cinnamon. A hug that smells like home. An unfamiliar yet familiar home.. “My dear child. . I was beginning to get worried. .”

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☟☜☹☹⚐📪 💣✡ 👎☜✌☼ 👍☟✋☹👎📬

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{FRONT COVER}

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>First Chapter<

>Previous Chapter<

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>Next Chapter<

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INDEX

[katreal-fic]

First batch of the Artwork I did for @lemonlightproductions‘s track #25 - Forgotten Tale (click [here] for the video!)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

This was a ...long one. I’ve got another...2? more posts to include for this to get all the artwork. I just wanted to add a special thanks to @diehard--dreamer here...We were supposed to collab on this. And because of that it took me a long time to feel ready to tackle this. She sketched out the first image, with asriel and Chara. It wasn’t finished, but...it didn’t feel right to ignore the work she did. I only hope I finished our song in a way that she would have been proud.

[forgotten-tale-official]

howdy everyone i remade forgotten tale bratty and catty the first picture is their first version the ones below are the final version what do you think?

please reblog and comment below

[nebula-starlight]

(You’re annoyingly cryptic, you know that?)

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[nebula-starlight]

(Oookay that answers none of my questions. I’m guessing you’re the one making her hear white noise?) Oh don’t like that.

Don’t either....

[nebula-starlight]

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[zatxrn]

Forgotten (Undertale Au)

Chapter Two {25.05.18}

A light feathery touch. As gentle as the fluttering feeling of fingertips brushing against your face. Or the soft breeze and sunlight laying soft kisses on your cheeks. Soft and gentle. So filled with kindness. Light as a bird. As sweet as honey and as delicate as a flower. Innocence. Do you hear that? Silence. I know I heard it too. Can you feel the air around you? Can you feel the blood in your veins? Flowing through your body? Can you feel the fibers that make up your very being? The culmination of your very soul? Can you feel the air in your lungs? Is it heavy like lead or as light as the air that surrounds you. Light as a feather. As light as a bird. You know I smile down on you, right? I’ve been watching you, for so long. I can only watch, never interact. Like a silent shadow that follows you. A silent shadow that makes the hairs on your neck prickle. Yet you think it’s someone walking over your grave. How foolish. Don’t you know, child? I am your guardian angel. The man who speaks in hands. You have no reason to fear me. I know what you possess.

Determination.

You know I will pass judgement on you, yes? I will judge you for your every sin, every kind act. And every harsh word you dare to utter. Every harsh thought. I will judge you for the cruel things you say to others. And when I am done judging you, I will show you love and compassion. I will spare you. I will show you mercy. The mercy you desire. You are just a young soul. I do not wish to taint you. But let us not dwell on that right now. Can you still feel the air around you? Is it warm? Cold? Can you feel the blood in your veins? Or is it on your hands? The blood of another? Or your own blood? Did you pass judgement on another? Do you feel like the scum of the earth? Can you feel the air in your lungs? The air that surrounds you. Or is it air stolen from another? That weight. . . That weight on your chest. What is that? Is that your soul? So young and fresh. May I take a look at it? It’s so bright. What do you think would happen if I broke it? Oh, you don’t want me to break it? Well then, here you go, have it back my dear child. Do you feel that weight on your back, my child? Do you feel the weight of your sins? Do you feel them crawling on your back? Crawling in your skin? In your bones? Oh, you do? I know a guy. He’ll show you a b a d t i m e.

I’m sorry, did I scare you, my child? We could stay here all day talking, but I don’t want to keep you for long. You have somewhere to be. A life to live. A heartbeat to maintain. The air in your lungs will keep you alive. I will be watching. And so will he. A life.

Yet how can it be t̴̯̼̥̖̫͎̹̰̦̘̮͙̖͉͊̃̈́̍̀̃̒̏̀͜͠ơ̵̗̮̬̤̹̪̭̬̤̻̞̠̘̤̬͑͆͂͊̎̿͑̄͠r̷͈̈́̾̍n̶̛̜̱̠̮̰̲̲͙͐͋̾̊͒͂͗̓̽̀̑̔͝ away so fast?

Ḯ̷̖̲̼̤̝̤͍͔̲̥͍͓͖̱̓̆̓̐͛͒̏ ̵̡͙̲̮̻̪̋͑͑̑̽̉̽͗̕͜͠ͅt̸̰̗̫͍͚̰͚̖͓̝͑̏͗̓̏̈́̑̚̕͜͠͠h̴̡̘̘̞̞͝i̴̧̢̘͚̘͈̩̳̗̲̅̾́͐̽̃̈́̈́̕̚ṉ̶̛̜̠̇̅́̾́̈́̕k̶̨̢̛̺͙̮̖̩͖͕͕͖͎̥̬̒̂ ̸̨̨̛̛̫̘̣̞̩͉̭̫́̈́̀̑̑̎͂̀̿͑͘͠ĩ̴̳͎̳̀̒̽̐̈́́̾̈́̔̕ț̶̪̘̞͈̇͑̋͂’̵̩͓̭̮̳̙̞̘̱̮͉̈́̄̍̉͒̽͑̅͆̉͛͊̚͘d̸̨̛̳̦̮͖̈́̉͗͂͐̽̂͆̾́̕̕ ̶̛̛̞̺̘̮͈̬̘͌͆̀͛͛̔͒̑͌͊̄̉͠b̵̧̧̛̤̝͍͙̣͙̰͖́̂̍́͆͗̍͌́ẹ̶̡̣̭̩̜̼̱͙͐͋̿̃̈̅̈̑̉͝͝ ̸̯̓b̶̜͕͓͓͚̪̞̹̙͓̩̭̬̰̓̋̅̑̎̾͌̔͆̒̿̓͝ẻ̷̬͚͇̤̗̞͎̥̩̗̝̝̩͉̇̀̄͆s̶̯̺͈͔̰̤̣̦̙̺̣̤̆̐̕͝t̴̗̪̝͉͈̿͆̔͋́̀̇̾̈́̈̕͝ͅ ̴̡̨̡̢̬̣̻̭͙͓̪͇̞̤̦̏ǐ̸̡̧̠͆̂͜͜f̷̧̧͔͓̳̬͌́̀̓͋̋̀͐̽̄̎͒̑͌̈́ ̴̠͍̱̺̠̫̞͙̻̻̟͖̀͋̿̾͗̉̓̋̀̍́̽͝͝͝y̶̞͔̞͌̇́̿̆̿̅̈̉̅͜͝͝o̶̡͕̫̮̹̳͔͚̥̹̲̗̾̔́̚̕͜͝u̸̢̼͎̠͈͖̺̥͎͗͊̈́͐̿̂̚͠ ̸̧̧̯̘̳̗̜͈̳̲̟̣̠̞̐͂̾l̷̖̀̋͐͝ẻ̶̙͇̦̖̩͎̥̳̍̇͐̅̑̐̽̇̄̍͝f̵̢̡͖͇̺̝̱͕̙̺̼̯̮̀̊́͗́̍̏̍̈͋͘̚͠͠t̸̡̡̧̳͕̻͙̥̘̖͇̆́̒̀ ̷̲͎̘̤̝̻͊͋̐̃̇͐̊̈̿̽̊̿͜͝͠n̸̡̧̧̛̞̩̝͚̤͚͓̫̣͚͙̺̄͂͑̎̋̂̓͌̈́͝ǫ̴̩͍̞̈̉̈́̾̐̊͗͂̔͜͝w̶̧͓̤̞̤̤͓̗̰̿̀̓͜͝,̸̨̢͉̟̱̹͓̈̽̋͌̔͐͒̎̀͌̂̎͘͝͝ ̸̥̜̿̓m̵̛̱̩̯͇͖͕̺͖͍̳̲̞̱͓͂̃̾͠y̴̨͙̘̯͔̩̺̙̓́͐̚ͅ ̶͉͙̮͇̩͍̯̬̩͉̳́͌̒͗̈́̍̌͊̏̎͑̈́͘͘͝c̷̰̲̪̫̝̻͙̼̓͒̓̅̾̈́̏̅̽̚ḩ̷̛̞͙̣̞̪̪̝͙͕̫̮̘̆̓̔̅̓̓̒̔͘i̸̛͉̦̣̟̖̤̪͍͐̐̀́̅̀̚ͅĺ̴̢̨̺͎̣̝̖̰̏̏̀́̽̈d̶̡̥̖̳̝͚͈͍̤̯̝̓̂̆̎͊͂̍̿͆̎̈́͠.̷̧̛̛̛̼̘̺̣̅̓͛́͗̆̈́̊͝

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That light feathery touch is back again. A gentle breeze made its way through the cavern. One that seemed to brush against the sleeping child’s face, ruffling their soft brown hair which was spread out around them like a halo. Heaven sent. If only that were true.

Do you know the story of Satan? How he was cast down from the heavens by a very angry God after he disobeyed his instructions? Good, then we won’t dwell on it. We won’t dwell on such a story. It is a story for another day after all.

The child stirs, prickles of cold sweat appearing on their exposed forehead and a look of utmost discomfort. Was sleeping in a sea of golden buttercups really that uncomfortable? You should really watch where you choose to nap, my child. Napping on a bed of nails would be more convenient. The expression grows further and without warning, the child sits up quickly.

Gasping.

Heart pounding.

Blood rushing.

What a sound. It almost makes me hungry. What soft flesh you have. They glance around at their dark surroundings.

Unsure and alone.

Scared and anxious.

Terrified of the things that may jump out at them.

But nobody came. No one. Not a single soul. You are alone. Alone for now. But I will always be there. For you are the one who will free me. They shook with all these suppressed emotions, tears prickling at their dark eyes. Various emotions crossing their face as they hunched their back, bringing their knees to their chest and letting out a quiet sob. There is no need for these tears my child. For I am here. You are my lamb. I am your Shepard. I will guard you from the wolves of the night.

H̶͕̳͙̗͊́̃̃̐͗̀̕͠ͅȩ̸̛̜̮̙̣͖͔͈̤̏̀̄́͛͌͑̎ ̷͚͍̹̱̱̜͓̤̙̜̇̂͒̇̿͗͐͜͠ä̸̡̨̞̮̭̣̦͔̯̝͔́͐̃́̕͜p̷̧̛̗̠͌̆̏̐̐̽p̶̡̛̛̪͎̮̓͊̎̅͛̆̾̉̈́ṛ̸̗̞̪̻̱̿̏̿͋o̷̯̮͖̲͍̜͇̻͂́͊͌̀̿̀̕͜ā̴͖͉͇̝̭̻̟͋̆͝ͅc̶̼̏̌́̈̽̊͒́̆͝h̸̨̺̦̘̻̤͖̬̯̰̼̒̀̈͆͐ę̴̟͇̰͉͈͇̗͙͐͛́̌̅̃͂́̒̐̅̕͘͝š̷̡͕̤͈̲͕͇͙̰̬̲͈̾̄̏̀͊̃̍̄̿̈́̏̅͝.

They lift their head as the sound of a high pitched voice catches their attention. “Why are you crying. . ?” Who is that? Who’s talking? Who has arrived to comfort you? To comfort? Or to kill? They look around. Just a sea of golden buttercups. Golden flowers. Gold. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. You are alone my child. Yet I am here. I will never leave you. They let out another sob. But nobody came. No one. Not a single soul. No one at all. “Hey! Dumbass! I asked you a question!” The child looks around again as a small stone hits them in the head, causing them to whimper at the sudden feeling of slight pain. It takes them a while to locate the source of the voice, but when they finally do, they let out a shocked gasp.

In front of them, sits a rather angry looking flower. Who ticked them off today? “Are you going to answer my question?” Out of curiosity, the child prods the flower, feeling soft petals and then the sharp shot of pain as the flower bites down on their finger. Hard enough to draw blood. The child let’s out a yelp, drawing back like a wounded animal and holding their now slowly bleeding finger in their lap protectively.

“DON’T GO POKING RANDOM FLOWERS YOU JERK! IT’S RUDE!” the flower yells. It seems to grow angrier. Really now, who ticked them off?

The child nods, wrapping their finger in the blue and magenta striped sweater they’re wearing, hoping to stop the bleeding and clean the wound up. They explain to the flower about how they woke up in the middle of nowhere. How they have no idea who they are. How they have no recollection of how they ended up here in the cavern laying among a sea of golden flowers.

The flower sighs. Another fallen human, huh? He’d seen humans like these before. Always preferring to maintain a distance. Whenever they awoke, they always seemed angry. Angry at the world? Angry at their own stupidity for falling down a hole? Humans are pretty stupid. But not this one. Why does this one seem so familiar? Yet so unfamiliar. . . An air of innocent fear surrounds them. For they are only a child. A child who could do no harm.

He gives another sigh, watching as they try and stem the flow of blood from his bite. He can’t just let them suffer, right? Not this time anyway. “Stop that, you’re doing it wrong. Do you want your finger to get infected or something?” A few vines rise up from the ground and set to work, creating a green leave bandage for the little humans finger. Applying enough pressure to stop any blood from creeping to the surface. It was the best he could. For he was only a mere flower. A mere flower who’s intentions had been evil, but when he’d heard the child’s soft cries. . Something awoke.

A feeling. . A memory. A memory of being in that same position before. In a garden of golden flowers. Alone. Scared. Confused. And anxious. This time he would spare the poor soul. He would be their guardian. A shadow. Watching. Waiting. A kind flower.

Once he’s finishes making the makeshift bandage, the child wipes their eyes and smiles at the flower. A smile full of gratefulness. Maybe this timeline would be different. Different from the rest. Different from when there was the spilling of dust. Dust on the wind. Screams on the wind. Blood on the wind. Broken bones and shattered souls.

N o.

It would be different. Now only if this human remembered their name, things would be a lot easier. “Are you sure you don’t remember your name?” the golden flower asks, trying to summon genuine concern. Were they doing it right? They’d heard it before. In the garden of golden flowers.

“Maybe you could call yourself something new?” The child thinks for a second, leaning their head to the side in thought. A new name? What would they call themselves? Something simple. . Name the fallen human.

“How about. . Frisk?” Frisk? What an odd name. Yet the child likes it. They nod. The golden flower has made them smile. Why choose a name that will bring them only suffering? The flower grins and then it’s expression darkens, glancing around as they hear movement in the distance. An enemy approaches? Or perhaps a new friend?

The flower glances up at the humans face, unsure of what to say or do. But the footsteps grow closer. Oh they grow closer. They sensed a disturbance or grew weary. They check the ruins every day. In the hope that no human would have to suffer falling. Falling from the surface.

The flower having made up its mind, disappears. Leaving the child on its own once more. A move of heartlessness or fear? The flower knew what would happen next. It was up to the child what they did from here. Would they choose the genocidal route, one plagued with pain and suffering or would they to make friends and free the monsters?

Only time would tell.

The child let’s out a cry at the flowers sudden disappearance and fear sets in again. You are alone. Oh so alone. Yet I will be here to watch over you. Watching never interacting for I cannot. You will be the one to free me one day. But for now, I offer you peace and mercy. The child begins to cry again, left alone in the dark and unsure of what to do. Where to go from here really was a question.

*Frisk you really are a mess.

There was the sound of door creaking open and a beam of flaming light makes the dark surroundings grow warm and more comforting. What comes next? The appearance of someone new.

A goat lady with a kind face makes her way through the door, a million more orbs of the same light flowing out behind her and lighting on the fallen human. Frisk. They immediately catch the kind faces woman’s attention and she frowns, looking concerned for the poor child. Yet shocked at the same time. “Such a poor innocent youth. . .” she says as she makes her way towards the child and stoops down. “There there”. The small child jerks away, tears staining their small pink cheeks as they look up into the kind yet concerned face. Who was this? This new person? What a kind face and so. . . So warm. . “Ah. . . Do not be afraid, my child. I am Toriel, Caretaker of the Ruins. . .” Why does she seem so familiar? Has this child seen her before?

“What is your name, dear child. . . ? . . Frisk? What a lovely name”.

The child smiles as Toriel offers them a hand, helping them up before looking around. “I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down. You are the first human to come here in a long time.” She looks down at the child who still clutches at her hand, leaning against her and wiping away their tears. Warmth fills her heart and she smiles faintly. Look after the child. Protect them. There are so many evils in this world. Won’t you protect them? “Come! I will guide you through the catacombs”.

The child nods and the kind lady known as Toriel leads them through the large door, the orbs of light following. “This way”.

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{FRONT COVER}

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>Previous Chapter<

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>Next Chapter<

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INDEX