Frisk awoke from a deep slumber. The familiar, peaceful silence of the Underground greeted their ears. The warm half-light of the room was as cosy as the bedsheets they were nestled beneath. They cast their mind back to the last thing they could recall: they were lying in bed, listening to the sounds of Toriel sweeping in the other room. They had fallen asleep to those sounds – the gentle creak of the floorboards and the occasional sweep of bristles against the surface.

The child sat up in bed, the pillow propped up to cushion their back. Slowly and delicately, they stretched their limbs and gave a small yawn. They had slept a peaceful, dreamless sleep, leaving them feeling rejuvenated and full of energy. The sickly feelings of the previous days were, for the time being, nowhere to be found. This realisation along made them breathe a sigh of relief. After the restless nights they'd endured, it was practically blissful to not wake up to a headache or low mood.

One of the lights in their room had been left switched on, casting a dim light that kept the child's room faintly illuminated. Looking to their side, the child was surprised to see a pile of clothes resting on top of the dresser – their old clothes. They were clean, washed and folded neatly.

Frisk hopped out of bed and zipped over to the dresser. The child quickly changed out of the purple robe they'd been wearing up until now and slipped back into their old, familiar clothes. Once done, Frisk glanced at themselves in the mirror. Though little else about their appearance had changed, it felt strange to suddenly be back in these clothes.

They folded up the purple robe and placed it back in the drawer from where they'd originally discovered it. Though Frisk had grown accustom to the unusual garment, it was only right to return it – this robe belonged to her. If they were to leave this place, they wanted to ensure everything was as they'd found it.

After closing the drawer, the child dutifully attended to their bed, taking great care to straighten out the bedsheets and prop up the pillows. After they were satisfied with the presentation, they dug out the hair comb from one of the drawers and began brushing their hair. Once they'd finished, they placed the old comb back in the lockbox where they had first discovered it and headed for the door to their room. They took one last look back at the room – their room – and stepped outside.

The hallway was quiet and perfectly still. A handful of lights had been left switched on from the day before. In the early morning half-light, the house was awash with a sense of peaceful calmness. Looking through one of the windows, Frisk could see out into the courtyard. The old tree stood in the centre, a lone defender of the old Ruins.

The child made their way towards the front of the house, their footsteps registering the faintest of creaks as they passed over the old floorboards. Passing by the staircase that lead down into the basement, they peered into the living room. The room was in much the same state as they'd found it the day before. Though there was still plenty to clean up, Toriel had evidently made some effort to tidy the space before retiring for the night. Much of the loose debris had been swept away and the books that'd been scattered across the floor were now back in their rightful places on the bookshelf. Frisk also noticed that the picture frame she'd left on the table the night before was no longer there.

They returned to the hallway and glanced down the end of the corridor towards Toriel's room. Nothing moved, nor did they hear any sound coming from her room. Frisk decided she was likely still in bed. After spending so much of the previous day cleaning the house, she must surely be tired.

They quietly opened the front door and slipped outside, following the path down to the old tree. For a moment, standing at the edge of the sea of orange leaves that'd fallen from its sleepy branches, Frisk regarded the old tree in the same manner a child would regard a grandparent. They waded in through the leaves and sat down at its base, their back resting against its gnarled trunk.

In the stillness of the courtyard, the child glanced down the path leading out of the courtyard into the Ruins – a path that'd grown increasingly familiar over the course of their stay. Then, their mind turned to the future as they contemplated the road ahead of them. A happy smile crept onto their lips. They were brimming with optimism.

They thought about their conversation with Toriel from the previous night – how they had almost convinced her to leave the Ruins alongside them. They wondered what her decision would be. Would she decide to come with them? Would they be able to reunite her with her wayward husband? They could even find a way to bring an end to the old enmity between humans and monsters. Their mind was alive with possibilities – endless timelines and infinite outcomes. With the power they possessed, nothing seemed impossible!

They broke off from that thought. Perhaps they were getting ahead of themselves. There was no guarantee that she would agree to join them on their journey through the Underground. She could still decide to remain here.

Regardless of her decision, Frisk was dead set on their own decision to leave. Though the thought of parting from Toriel pained them every bit as much as it had the first time, she at least seemed content to let them journey on alone. Moreover, their time in the Ruins had reminded Frisk of the importance of their journey. As long as they continued to progress, there would be opportunities for the child to change this timeline for the better. This time, they would find something, or alter something, to influence the course of events. The future, they realised, was in their hands – so long as they kept moving.

It was at that moment that they remembered a small detail they'd overlooked. Technically, they were still grounded. Having snuck out of the house to come and sit underneath the tree, they had broken Toriel's rules. She would undoubtedly be disappointed if she were to find them out here.

Common sense declared that they should return inside. After all, they were still her guest – regardless of everything that'd transpired – and they were hesitant to do anything that might upset her. The child rose to their feet, brushing the stray leaves from their lap.

They were about to try and sneak back into the house when they heard a voice behind them.

"Watch out!"

Frisk turned to face the direction of the voice, only to be hit square-on by a powerful force. A burning pain ripped through their chest as they stumbled backwards a few paces from the weight of the impact. Wincing, they clutched at the skin beneath their purple and blue striped shirt, only to find no outward damage or wound. The pain they felt was deep inside them – it struck at the very core of their being. They'd been hit by some kind of attack – a blow aimed at their soul.

They heard a tirade of high-pitched, mean-spirited laughter. Dusting themselves off, the child looked up from the ground in the direction of the noise. Immediately, they felt the blood freeze in their veins.

There, sprouting from the ground a short distance away from them, was Flowey.

"Heya! Did you forget about me?" he asked with a huge grin. He looked around the empty courtyard, regarding his surroundings with a sense of carefree amusement. "Jeez, this place is completely dead, huh?" he said to the child with a tell-tale wink. "Y'know, I may have something to do with that."

A shiver ran down Frisk's spine at the sight of their old adversary. A rush of sickly fear gripped the child as they realised what his coming could signify.

Flowey, on the other hand, appeared amused by the mixture of fear and confusion in the child's expression. "Let's just say I'm willing to stand on the side-lines and remain uninvolved, but only to a certain point," he explained with a devious smile.

At his proclamation, the sense of confusion in the child's expression deepened. Flowey breathed a small sigh of exasperation before continuing.

"I got bored waiting for you. You were meant to have left the Ruins days ago! Yet every time I checked on ya, you were still here," he elaborated sorely. "I couldn't understand why you were taking so long – why you wouldn't just move on like you always do. An' I got to thinking: 'What could they've found that would make 'em want to stay in this dreary old dustheap?'" At that moment, Flowey's expression darkened, a sharp glint in his eye. "But now I think I understand the reason. It's her, isn't it?"

Frisk stifled a gasp as they realised he was referring to Toriel. Their mind was filled with a rush of confused thoughts. Was he here because of Toriel? What could he possibly want with her? Though the child knew his sudden appearance could only signify malicious intent, they couldn't understand why the murderous creature would take an interest in her. Though he had gleefully slaughtered her husband in the previous timeline in pursuit of the human souls, he had never once chosen to attack Toriel – she had never factored into his plans. Surely he didn't intend to hurt her now?

Somewhere behind them, the child heard the sound of a wooden door swinging open. Frisk turned to face the sound.

Toriel came rushing out of the house, charging towards the pair of them. She was running faster than the child had ever seen her move before. She nurtured a ball of fire in her left hand, the flame growing bigger and brighter with every step. Her gaze was fixed on Flowey.

However, he seemed to anticipate her arrival. Without warning, a dozen thorny vines shot out of the ground and converged on Toriel. They seized her, wrapping tight around her arms and legs. The fireball in her hand dimmed and faded out as she struggled against the grasping vines. But it was hopeless. No matter how hard she fought back against the vines that bound her, their grip was too strong – she was unable to free herself. The vines hoisted her off the ground, suspending her in mid-air above the two figures of Frisk and Flowey.

Frisk gasped in shock, looking up at Toriel desperately. Flowey eyed the child's response with interest, deciphering the expression on their face with some bemusement.

"So it's true!" he exclaimed, as if his suspicions had suddenly been confirmed. "You actually care for this pathetic creature? She's the reason you're doing this?"

The child stood there helplessly, their eyes darting back and forth between Flowey and Toriel. They were desperately looking for a way to free her but no immediate solution presented itself to them.

"This… this is priceless! Can you be any more naïve?" Flowey gawped. "Did you really think you could stay here? That you could be with her, forever?"

Frisk tore their gaze away from Toriel and stared at their adversary. Flowey saw the conflict in the child's eyes in an instant. He let his head roll back in a shrill, high-pitched laugh that sent shivers through the young child.

"You dope!" he cackled. "That'll never happen – not as long as I'm here!"

In an instant, Frisk's expression hardened. Their mind was made up – they couldn't afford to stand by and let Flowey ruin this timeline too. Toriel was in danger. They had to act.

The child dashed forward defiantly, brandishing the toy knife they'd pulled from their pocket. They did not seek to strike at Flowey – rather, their sights were set on freeing Toriel. Though she was too high up for them to reach, it could be possible to cut down the vines holding her, if they could just get close enough.

Before they could get within striking distance of the vines, the child was met with a barrage of Flowey's 'friendliness pellets'. The white bullets crashed into their soul, battering them mercilessly and sending Frisk flying back. They stumbled from the impact, falling to their knees as a staggering pain tore through them. Their body burned with a searing heat. Somewhere in the back of their mind, they heard Toriel cry out in panic.

1HP remaining.

Flowey looked on with an amused smirk. "Idiot. You should know that's not how this works," he crowed. "I wouldn't waste your time trying anything fancy if I were you. You've already wasted enough time as it is."

Frisk forced themselves to stand. They shuddered for a second, worried their legs might give way. Though the pain inside them raged fiercely, they told themselves to focus. Flowey had dealt a fearsome blow to their HP but they couldn't give up – not while Toriel was still in danger.

Flowey regarded the child from a distance, seemingly amused by their persistence. "Listen. I've been watching ya, and I can see you're feelin' mighty dissatisfied right now," he continued. "You tried something new and it didn't pan out the way you wanted it to. Boo hoo! What a sad business – breaks my heart! But I know what you really want. You're lookin' for something different – something you'd like to do so, so badly," the flower suggested with a wicked snigger. "Yes... you want to kill!"

Frisk's reaction was one of shock. Something inside them revolted. They had never sought to harm another being, much less extinguish a life. Flowey's twisted assertion filled them with disgust. And yet, there was a part of them that was almost swayed by the unconscionable suggestion. There was something perversely alluring in his words – something that called to a deeper, more curious part of them. This vile creature seemed to possess knowledge of an inner weakness of theirs – an aspect of their nature that they vehemently rejected, but could neither explain nor deny.

"Don't believe me?" Flowey pried as he watched the inner conflict manifest on the child's face. "Well, you'll understand soon enough."

Frisk fought desperately to bring themselves under control. Flowey was trying to manipulate them - they couldn't tolerate his scrutiny of their deepest thoughts. Seeking to hide their outward distress from him, the child directed their gaze to the floor, only to gasp as they came face-to-face with the knife they'd dropped on the ground in front of them. They swallowed. The toy weapon almost seemed to be staring back at them – begging to rest in the palm of their hand. Begging to be wielded.

"I know what you are. I know your true nature," Flowey pressed on. "You like to pretend you're some goodie two-shoes who can do no wrong, when all you really want is to experience the thrill of taking a life." A sickly smile crept back on to his face. "I'll offer you that opportunity."

At that moment, the vines holding Toriel retracted slightly, lowering her down to the ground. They held her in place a few inches from the floor, putting her within the child's reach, but without loosening their grip on her.

"This world is still Kill or Be Killed," Flowey uttered, repeating his twisted mantra. "You and I both know it's true. So, l figured I'd set you back on-track, seein' as you did a lousy job last time."

Frisk looked at Toriel, still unable to escape from her bonds. The child bit their lip. Now that she was level with them, Frisk felt a compulsion to rush forward to cut her free from the vines, but they knew that such an idea was suicide. They wouldn't make it – Flowey would catch them before they got to her. They returned their attention to Flowey. The vile creature's look was one of pure malice.

"I'll give you a choice: either you kill her with that cutesy knife you've got there..." he said, gesturing to the weapon resting by the child's feet. A jagged grin spread across his face. "Or I kill you!"

Frisk felt their heart almost stop. The whole courtyard was still as time appeared to grind to a halt.

Flowey's head rolled back as he filled the air with a menacing laugh. "What do you think, buddy?" he asked. "Isn't this exciting? Isn't this much more fun?"

Panic surged through the child. They didn't know what to do. Flowey's ultimatum was too cruel – too callous. He was determined to turn this into a game – a sick, twisted game to provide him some amusement. Frisk could never do what he demanded. And yet, the child knew they would both likely die if they didn't act. The terror welling up inside them made them shake uncontrollably as they were faced with the impossible decision.

Then, they heard a faint voice call out to them. It was Toriel's voice. They looked up to see her struggling against the grasp of the vines that held her.

"Please... run..." she implored desperately. "My child..."

For a second, Frisk grappled with the thought of abandoning her, but their thoughts were obfuscated by a desperate urgency. They were already losing time. Without thinking, they turned towards the path leading back into the Ruins' depths. Toriel had made the decision for them.

Frisk tries to run.

They were barely several feet from the exit when they felt the earth tremble beneath their feet. Suddenly, the ground in front of them cracked and gave way. Frisk stumbled backwards as an enormous, trunk-like vine sprouted out of the ground in front of them, shooting up high into the air before descending and coiling into a thick, barrier-like spiral. Before Frisk's eyes, the colossal vine reshaped itself into a dense barrier of plant matter, completely blocking the path out of the courtyard.

Flowey wore a self-satisfied smirk. He was enjoying this. "Don't hold back! I know you must be curious about what it feels like," he called to them, his voice suddenly dipping into a more husky tone. "You're not going any further until this is done."

Frisk heard a clattering sound just behind them, as if something had been lobbed at them. They turned to find the toy knife resting at their feet once more. A short distance in front of them, Toriel remained held in place, struggling against their grasp.

Flowey reappeared a short distance to their side. "So, what'll it be?" he chirped energetically. "Don't keep me waitin'!"

Frisk stared at the weapon at their feet. Once again, they felt something stir inside of them. The dainty weapon seemed to beckon them closer. Try as they might, the child found themselves unable to tear their eyes away from the toy weapon, thousands of thoughts rushing through their head.

"Pal, I don't have all day," Flowey rumbled impatiently. "If you wimp out of this, you know it's gonna end badly for both-"

Frisk interrupted him by taking a step forward. With a swift movement, they quickly reached down and snatched up the toy knife from the ground. The child held it out in front of them, coldly, deliberately scrutinizing the object in their hand. It was a poor weapon, to be sure. The blade felt light in their fingers, and it lacked the weight of the real article. But with the right level of intent, even the dullest of weapons would serve their purpose.

The child turned to face Toriel. Slowly and deliberately, they advanced on her like a hunter stalking its prey. They prowled towards her with the heavy, lumbering steps of a mighty colossus. It was a robotic, emotionless plod, completely at odds with the movement one would expect of a child, or any kind of human.

Flowey appeared intrigued by this display. He let loose a gleeful cackle. "Yes! I see now! This is what you planned all along, isn't it?" he laughed wickedly. "Pretend to be her friend, only to betray her at the last second, just so you can watch her reaction when you take her wretched life! You really are twisted!"

Upon hearing the flower's jeers, Frisk felt some small relief, though they didn't dare turn their gaze to him. If nothing else, they were thankful that their acting skills were still convincing. Flowey had fallen for their façade, and it had bought them some time. Unfortunately, they hadn't yet devised a plan to free Toriel, but they could attempt to improvise. Perhaps an opportunity would present itself once they were closer to her.

However, Frisk almost lost their nerve completely as they noticed Toriel staring back at them.

In her eyes, the child spotted traces of a quiet, subdued terror. Though she hid her fear well, Frisk could tell she was terrified. She was a monster that had lived for many years – she knew exactly what humans were capable of. As they approached her, it became all the more clear how frightened she was.

Frisk tried their best to avoid looking directly at her. Her terror was necessary, though it struck a sharp anxiety in the child's heart, and any sign of hesitation could risk revealing their act to Flowey.

The child held their nerve. They had their weapon. If they could simply get closer to her, perhaps they'd be able to cut her loose before Flowey could retaliate. It was risky – the vines holding her were thick and their soul wasn't likely to survive another hit - but they couldn't formulate a better plan.

Cautiously, without wanting to give anything away, they checked the corner of their vision to see what their nemesis was up to.

That was when they spotted their opportunity.

Flowey was slowly drifting forward towards them both. He was transfixed by the scene that was unfolding, wanting to drink in the impending violence up close. Seemingly unaware of himself, he crept inch-by-inch towards the pair of them, his long tongue lapping slavishly.

The child's soul writhed. They were reluctant to hurt anyone – even a being as monstrous as Flowey didn't deserve that. But they had no choice – they were already aware of what he was capable of. He had to be stopped, or everything would end in disaster.

There was no other option. Just this once, the child would have to kill.

Frisk slowed their pace, silently counting the seconds as they waited for their moment to strike. Tension crept up their limbs. They felt a lump in their throat and swallowed.

For a moment, Frisk saw nothing. They felt a burst of panic as they wondered if they'd waited too long. Then, the shape of Flowey entered their peripheral vision.

Frisk spun around and, with a loud cry, swung the knife down towards the flower.

For a brief moment, all was black. The child lost track of themselves, as if they'd been pulled into a deep, dark void. For a second, they wondered if they'd lost consciousness. Then, there was a flash of light. They regained control of their senses. Slowly, the world around them began to reappear.

Frisk was shocked – not just by the sudden lapse, but also by themselves. They hadn't expected much. The toy knife wasn't much of a weapon. But, for the first time, there had been real intent behind their swing.

However, it quickly became clear that the attack hadn't made contact with their foe. Flowey had lowered his guard on the approach but had pulled back from the blow at the last second. Though he'd narrowly avoided a direct hit, a few of his golden petals lay shredded on the floor. He popped out from the ground a few feet away from the child. His perfect mane of petals was ruined, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Frisk's heart dropped as a sickening feeling crept over them. They'd missed their mark. Their attack had shaved off a few HP, perhaps, but nothing more.

To the child's astonishment, Flowey looked genuinely startled. For once, there was no trace of his usual, cold, emotionally detached menace. Then, in the blink of an eye, his shocked expression transformed into one of fearsome, unbridled anger. His stem shook violently – he was practically trembling with rage at having been tricked. He glowered at Frisk, a murderous expression spreading across his face.

Before they had any opportunity to defend themselves, a long vine was already hurtling towards them. The vine smashed into Frisk's torso, knocking the breath from their little lungs and sending them flying backwards, landing roughly on the stone floor to the rear of the courtyard.

Frisk lay sprawled on the floor, dazed. Their world was spinning, their vision clouded with shimmering white spots – little motes of unfocused light. Breathless, they gasped for air and immediately winced. A terrible pain was spreading through their chest – their entire left side was swollen and raw. Every intake of breath brought a sharp, stinging sensation with it, as if their torso was being pierced by thousands of hot lances. Within their body, the child was also acutely conscious of their soul. It was pulsing rapidly in perfect, panicked alignment with their own desperate heartbeat.

They were certain of one thing: that attack should have ended them. But somehow, they were still alive.

Frisk shook their head rapidly to try and clear the haze that obscured their vision. They looked up. A silent, breathless gasp formed on the child's lips. The 'white spots' they had seen were Flowey's 'friendliness pellets' – dozens and dozens of them, perhaps even hundreds. They orbited in rings around the child like tiny asteroid belts in a planetarium. They were everywhere.

Flowey loomed nearby, still enraged. "I'm gonna make you regret that," he spat in quiet, thinly-veiled fury.

The child felt a crushing sense of defeat as a mortal fear began to set in. They had no hope of surviving such an attack. Their soul would be torn to shreds in an instant. They had lost. There was nothing they could do to save Toriel, or themselves. They couldn't even find the strength to stand. Utterly unable to defend themselves, they held their trembling arms above their head, waiting for the end to come.

There was a long pause. At first, it seemed like nothing had happened. For a brief moment, the change was barely perceptible to Frisk. And then they felt it: above their head, to their sides – all around them, in fact. It was a bizarre sensation that they could only liken to being trapped in a giant bubble.

Still cowering, Frisk looked up through the gap in their arms. High above them, they saw some of the 'friendliness pellets' flicker out of existence. One by one, they vanished with a hollow, ineffectual popping sound. Within a few seconds, there was nothing left of Flowey's attack.

With a great effort, the child hauled themselves off the ground, the pain in their chest ratcheting up as they moved. As they did so, the composition of the air around them underwent a sudden, startling alteration. As a strange, unearthly energy poured back into their limbs, they looked up from the ground.

Toriel, still restrained by the vines, was glowing. A curious aura comprised of orange, yellow and reddish hues emanated from her body. Her eyes were shut, a look of deep focus etched on her face. Frisk realised she must be channelling some kind of spell. They spotted Flowey to their side – he also seemed to have noticed the disturbance. He regarded Toriel with a mixture of bewilderment and, to the child's amazement, fear.

Suddenly, the strange aura enveloping Toriel intensified – the colours becoming more vibrant and wild as the magical force she nurtured expanded. They could sense the sheer weight of the magic in the air – it was dense and hot. They resisted the urge to scratch themselves as their skin tingled wildly from the unearthly force. Then, without warning, the Ruins were illuminated with a burst of light as bright as a solar flare. The child was forced to shield their eyes from the blinding light as they felt the air around them hit saturation point.

Somehow, Frisk realised what was about to happen.

Frisk yells at Toriel to stop.

The child's screams were swallowed as the courtyard exploded into flame. Rivers of fire rushed and swirled past them. There was fire everywhere.

Frisk, who had sought to shield themselves from the blast, quickly lowered their hands from their face. Their ears were ringing from the noise of the explosion. Looking around them, the whole courtyard was ablaze – their vision distorted by the sea of fire that raged around them. And yet, something appeared to be protecting them from the heat of the flames, as if their body were wrapped in a protective barrier. While the flames licked the air around the child, they were not harmed. Standing in the middle of the raging inferno, Frisk was completely unscathed.

Flowey, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. He shrieked as the flames engulfed him, writhing and contorting his form into all sorts of ghastly shapes. In the manner of a fearsome serpent, he retreated into the ground along with the coiling masses of vines he'd summoned, howling in rage like a monstrous beast as he descended into the depths of the earth. Before they knew it, he was gone.

It took a few moments more for the air to clear as the fire around them began to recede. As the last of the flames died down, the child took note of their surroundings.

The courtyard had been devastated by the blast. The pathway, brick walls and much of the house were scorched and blackened. The old tree had never looked more wretched and pitiable. It lay slanted to one side after being nearly uprooted by the force of the blast. Only a few of its singed branches remained – the rest had fallen to the ground or had burnt away. The bed of leaves that'd surrounded its trunk had turned to half-disintegrated, blackened ash, scattered thinly across the ground of the courtyard.

Frisk looked around the courtyard, desperately trying to locate Toriel. She was nowhere to be seen. Still dazed and on the brink of unconsciousness, it took them a few moments before they discovered what'd befallen her.

In the spot where she had once been, a mound of ashen dust lay on the floor. Above it, a heart-shaped entity of purest silver shone a faint light – the only light in that place.

The soul hovered in the air for a brief moment longer. Then, with an unsteady flutter, it cracked and split apart. The glimmering pieces faded and fell away, disappearing into nothingness.

Toriel was gone.

A deathly silence filled the courtyard. Frisk stood there, shaking. Then, they felt something inside come loose. Tears ran down the child's face as a gnawing pain bore into their chest. Their heart ached unbearably – it felt like it could burst at any moment. But worst of all was the sense of deepening hollowness that grasped their entire being.

Frisk's thoughts were filled with devastated disbelief. How could she be gone? They'd tried everything to stay by her side, yet all they'd done was bring about her death. It was their fault that Flowey had come for her – their selfish idea to have her all to themselves – and they were helpless to stop him. They couldn't even protect her when she'd needed it most.

The pain in their chest began to cut through their thoughts. The child tried to rise but found themselves too weak to do so, letting loose a single, pained cry mingled with anguish. They couldn't walk, or even stand. They couldn't go on, nor could they stay. They hurt too much. Were they dying? They didn't dare to look down at their striped shirt to inspect the damage, though they feared it could be their soul that was threatening to break.

For a long time, they lay there. Alone once more, Frisk thought that they too would fade away, though they knew it couldn't happen. They would not fade away. They had a responsibility, though the child had come to see it as more of a curse. Now, more than ever, they wished that everything would just end.

Everything seemed hopeless. Flowey had vanished for now but he would be back. Once he'd recovered, he would almost certainly return to his task of obtaining the human souls. Asgore would fall, once again. Everything would play out just as it had before, save for one difference: Toriel was dead. This timeline was ruined, and it was their fault.

At that moment, Asgore's words sprang back into their mind, as if the old King were taunting them:

"You can't give up! You are the future of humans and monsters!"

Frisk felt sick. 'The future of humans and monsters'? How could that possibly be what they were? How could such a thing be demanded of them? The child felt crushed by the weight of such falsely placed expectation. They had failed to save one monster – the one that'd mattered most to them. How could they possibly be a saviour to an entire race?

As they lay flat on the floor, Frisk felt their strength begin to desert them. Darkness encroached on the corners of their vision. The child almost welcomed it. To fade away here, to not come back like they invariably always did – the possibility seemed almost blissful. They were no good to anyone, and so they should be allowed to let go of their responsibility, peacefully.

Slowly, Frisk felt their eyes begin to close.

Then, they stopped.

The child remembered what Toriel said on the night when she had contemplated leaving the Ruins alongside them. She'd been compelled to turn down their request, but not without a great deal of hesitation.

'And yet, I wonder... might not there be another way?'

Toriel had said that. They recalled the look of focus she'd given as she'd spoken – the conflict in her eyes. Though she had her reasons to stay in the Ruins, she'd doubted her own decision almost immediately, as if there were a better option available to her – either that or she'd felt the question being posed to her was an unsatisfactory one. Faced with a seemingly straightforward choice, she'd wished for an alternate course of action – 'another way'.

The child rolled those words through their head over and over. Somehow, she had become convinced of the existence of this 'other way'. Furthermore, although she couldn't have known about their power, she had chosen to confide in them her belief that such a 'way' could be brought about. But to what end? Why would she have entrusted them with such a strange idea?

In an instant, Frisk realised what she'd meant: Toriel wanted them to find this 'other way'. Moreover, she'd believed they would find it. She had always believed in them.

The child raised themselves up off the ground as far as they could, ignoring the fresh pain they came from the movement. They stared ahead at Toriel's home – their home. Something powerful stirred within them. Casting their mind back to the times they'd shared together, the child was filled with determination. They wouldn't give up. They had to trust Toriel. They were going to find this 'other way'.

They would have to go now, or else they mightn't get another chance.

The child closed their eyes and, reaching deep inside themselves, they searched for their power. In their weakened state, it took them longer than expected to locate it. As they scrambled and searched for the source of their strength, they felt the last of their life force begin to slip away. But rather than panic, they told themselves to remain calm. There was no reason to doubt – there was nothing to fear.

A few moments later, they found what they were looking for.

The child had expected to be immediately whisked away to the flower patch. The last time they'd reset the timeline, it was as if they'd fallen asleep and promptly woken up, with no recollection of the in-between. But this time, something was different. Just before time began to twist and bend, they caught a glimpse of something – a brief yet striking vision.

Frisk stood in what appeared to be a beautiful garden. It was huge, like a vast meadow that seemed to stretch out into the distance. There were some people gathered on the horizon, just out of sight. The only movement came from the swaying of the grass in the wind and the gentle bobbing of the flower heads.

A few feet away from where they stood, a butterfly with golden wings emerged from a patch of flowers. The child watched it flitter through the air. It flew in carefree patterns, as if it were dancing, its dainty wings shimmering in the light of the sun. As it glided, it left a luminous trail of golden light that sparkled in the summer breeze. Frisk watched the butterfly for a moment longer before the vision began to recede.

Still glistening, it slipped away into the distance, into the dark, and was gone.

-END-