Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ceroba slammed her staff against the ground, the strike echoing like thunder across the balcony. A sharp ping rang out as a prism of white energy erupted from the staff’s base, snapping into a diamond-shaped sigil around Clover. He froze mid-step, legs locking in place, unable to move forward. The glow cast stark shadows over his weary face—sweat-slicked, breathing ragged. The chi-human. The human.

He looked so small like that.

She shouldn’t hesitate.

But Ceroba’s heart thudded in her chest as she stepped forward. She lunged at him with a shout, grabbing his neck and hoisting him into the air like a ragdoll. Her fingers clenched involuntarily around his throat. She could feel his pulse.

She couldn’t look at him.

She turned her head away, tightly shutting her own. “I’m sorry,” she whispered—not to him, but to herself.

“P-please… this won’t h-elp y—”

The words died in his mouth as her staff dematerialized with a flicker of light, and with a clawed hand, She plunged it into his chest with a sickening crunch of bone and squelch of flesh.

“ARGHHHHH!” Clover screamed. The sound echoed across the new home, desperate and raw. Ceroba winced, her breath hitching in her throat.

The warmth of his body clung to her wrist. Blood spilled over her fingers in thick pulses. She could feel the structure of his ribcage bend as she dug deeper, squelching and cracking noises filling the space between them. His struggling slowed, weakened.

Ceroba gritted her teeth harder. Her claws brushed something—soft, fluid, alive. It pulsed faintly with light and warmth, like a heartbeat made of color.

His SOUL.

“G-God—no—p-please—!” Clover choked, his voice mangled by pain, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. His arms pushed helplessly at her arm, then fell away.

She yanked it free.

Light exploded from his chest, a luminous burst of gold. Clover’s body arched, convulsed violently—and then collapsed, limp in her grasp.

She looked down at the flickering SOUL in her palm. his SOUL, still warm, still fragile. Still his.

Something in her chest pulled taut, strangled in guilt and memory.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, so quietly it barely left her mouth. “But there was no other way.”

And with a choked sound somewhere between a scream and a sob, she threw his limp body backwards. It crashed into the gray brick of the balcony wall with a sickening thud, then crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

She couldn’t bear to look at him.

She summoned the SOUL container and gently lowered his SOUL into it. The jar sealed itself with a ping . The light against the walls, pushing against it.

She turned away before her guilt could grow roots.

Ceroba ran .

Down through the echoing streets of New Home.
Down the golden elevator that played upbeat music despire the situation she found herself in..
Past the resort with its glistening floors.
Into Hotland, where the heat licked at her heels like fire.

Her vision blurred, then cleared again as she reached the lab entrance—tall, sterile, Her legs trembled beneath her. Her arm was aching from cradling the jar.

She couldn’t stop seeing his face before —trusting, sympathetic, gentle.

She couldn’t stop seeing his face after —terrified. Confused. Hurt.

She adjusted her grip on the container, holding it now the way she used to hold Ka-

No.

She clenched her jaw, slammed her staff into the ground, and blasted the reinforced lab door with an explosion of red and orange fire. Metal bent inward, melting like wax, and the doorway opened with a shriek of tearing steel. Sparks showered across the tiled floor. The lab lights flickered like dying stars.

“ALPHYS. WHERE. IS. MY DAUGHTER?!”

Ceroba’s voice hit like a meteor. The walls rattled.

Across the lab, Alphys shrieked, startled mid-bite of her pot noodles. Her glasses nearly fell off her face as she turned, eyes wide and sleep-deprived.

“Wh—Miss Ketsukane—! I—g-god, what did you do?! ” she stammered, choking on a mouthful of noodles, eyes fixated on the soul container.

Ceroba stood there, cloaked in smoke and power, holding the softly glowing soul container. Her arms trembled from exhaustion, from guilt. Her lip quivered, eyes wet and glassy.

Alphys took a step back.

“A-Are you here f-for your daughter?”

Ceroba staggered forward. “Of course I am! I’ve been sending letters for months — months! ” Her voice cracked.

She looked to the right—where a pile of unopened letters sat on the floor, some still sealed, all yellowing.

“You haven’t responded to any of them!”

“I—I’m sorry,” Alphys whispered, glancing between her and the soul container. “She said she wanted to stay., it’s good you're here, really! I’ll go get her—right now!” She stumbled out of the chair and half-ran toward the elevator.

“I’m going with you.”

Alphys froze. “Y-you can’t . The others down there—they’re dangerous. They’ll attack you. I can’t stop them if they do.”

Ceroba stared at her, claws tapping softly against the soul container like a ticking clock. The silence stretched thin.

“I’ll wait,” she said hoarsely. “But if you try anything — anything at all —you will regret it.”

“O-Oh… okay,” Alphys stammered, clearly startled she hadn’t tried to force her way down. She nodded and scurried into the elevator, pressing the panel with shaky fingers.

“I-I’ll go get her.”

And then she was gone.

Ceroba stood still in the lab, alone.

Well… not entirely alone.

The soft hum of the soul container filled the silence. She could feel its warmth radiating into her arms. Could almost hear… a faint sound. Crying? Was that—

Clover? 

no, of corse it wasent, it was probably just some human SOUL trick.

Ceroba sat down heavily at a table and began idly tapping her claws on the steel surface,to drown it out, 

Wait… what is that noise?

Chapter Text

“Wh...where am I…” Martlet mumbled, still slumped over the balcony overlooking New Home, her wings drooping over the balcony.

“Clover, we need to ge—!”she yelled

The words died in her throat.

She spun around, body whipping fast– the shout never finished. Her breath hitched as her eyes locked onto the sight before her.

Clover was slumped against the wall, gasping, his chest heaving in short, wet bursts. There was a hole in his chest—a gaping wound, impossibly deep. Blood poured from it in sickening waves, pooling beneath him, soaking into the floor.

Martlet didn’t hear the sound of retreating boots.. All of her focus narrowed to the child in front of her. The child dying in front of her.

“No—no, no, no—!”

She bolted to him, skidding on the stone. Kneeling, she pressed one wing desperately against the wound, but the feathers were instantly soaked in crimson. What was once a brilliant, bright blue was now stained a deep, hideous red.

“Hold on, Clover!” she cried, voice cracking. “Please, stay with me! I promised— I promised I’d get you home—!”

“M-Martlet…” Clover choked, barely audible through the gurgle in his throat. His hand trembled as it reached up, holding onto the feathers weakly. “P-please… don’t let her use my soul… I don’t want to e-end up like my sister…”

What did he mean by that? Was his sister the one who caused the Snowdin incident?

Now wasn't the time for it.

Tears welled in Martlet’s eyes. No amount of training in the Royal Guard could prepare her for this. A human without their soul couldn’t survive. Not for long. even without wounds this fatal. 

There was nothing she could do.

Except this.

“I-I…” Her voice trembled, her wings shaking around him. “I promise you, Clover… I won’t let that happen.”

And with that, he went still in her arms.

Martlet knew her time was short. The moment she was certain Clover was… gone, she gently laid him down on the gray rooftop, back into a puddle of his own blood.

For the first time in her life, Martlet felt something unfamiliar boil up inside her — anger . Clover had so much left to live for. He might’ve had a family waiting for him, people who would now never know what happened to him. Because Ceroba killed him.

Her vision blurred with red.

She mentally berated herself for not doing this sooner. Her hand shot to her back pocket, fingers curling tightly around the syringe where death slept, as tears freely spilled from her eyes.

She never imagined she’d have to use it, Especially not against a monster.

Before Ceroba could even begin to guess what that noise was, the far wall of the lab,the one opposite from where she entered. suddenly exploded inward with a deafening crash. A storm of black feathers and metal surged through the debris, the heavy door crumpling like paper under the sheer force of impact. A towering figure emerged from the dust: sleek, avian, and furious, clad in a darkened chestplate.

Ceroba was on her feet in an instant. Her staff materialized in her hand, and she clutched her mask tightly in the other. Her body ached, her energy reserves were dangerously low after the fight with Clover, but she pushed all that aside.

The figure stepped forward, yellow eyes cutting through the haze like a blade. Not just a bird—it was Martlet . And the moment her gaze fell on the soul jar resting on the lab table, something changed. Her glare wavered for the briefest instant, softening… before snapping back up to Ceroba with renewed venom.

"YOU!"

Ceroba’s SOUL hammered. She didn’t have time to question the shift in Martlet’s focus. With a fluid motion, she raised her mask and pressed it to her face. her tails appearing behind her. She stood tall—though her legs trembled faintly.

"I did what I had to do," she said firmly, her voice steadier than she felt. "I won’t stop now. And you won’t stop me."

But Martlet didn’t bother to reply.

With a guttural shriek, she launched forward like a missile, a blur of feathers and fury. Ceroba leapt aside, but not fast enough—Martlet’s talons raked across her side in a savage arc, and a spray of grey dust burst from the wound. Pain seared through her torso like fire.

She hit the ground hard, bouncing once, then twice, before rolling to a halt. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself upright, her hand clamped over the wound, dust leaking between her fingers. Her vision swam. Her staff shook in her grip, and every breath was a struggle. But she would not fall. Not yet.

Martlet gave her no time to recover.

Another shriek split the air, and the blur of black came at her again. Ceroba raised her staff to block, but this time—she was too slow.

The impact was devastating.

Martlet slammed into her like a living projectile, driving her into the cold, unforgiving lab floor. Ceroba’s mask cracked—no, shattered —beneath the force of the blow, shards of it scattering across the tiles as her head struck the ground, face first.

Then came the weight.

One clawed foot dug into her waist, pinning her down with terrifying strength. Ceroba gasped, trying to twist away, but the pressure only increased. The second talon came down with surgical precision—one hooked beneath her jaw, lifting her head slightly, while the others pierced into the soft flesh of her neck. Not enough to kill… but enough to promise it.

Ceroba froze, every instinct in her screaming to fight back—but her limbs wouldn’t obey. Her tails disappeared behind her.

Ceroba gasped, her staff falling from her grasp as her fingers scrabbled at the talon clamped around her head. Her tails disappeared underneath her. The fine layer of dust that bled from her wounds stained Martlets talons.

“Was it worth it Ceroba? After everything you two went though, you couldn't put it through your head that there could be any other way, any way to not kill an innocent child” Martlet rasped lowly, her voice slicing through steel, dangerously calm. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the soul jar—just for a heartbeat—then locked back on Ceroba. “Nothing can justify your sins”  she said as she curled her talons deeping into the fox.

Ceroba gasped, lips curled into a defiance snarl despite the pain. she thought of saying nothing and just accepting her fate, she probably deserved this but she was this close to seeing her daughter again, this close to securing monsterkids future “i just wanted to see K-kanako again.” she pulled out her only card she had left.

Martlet’s talons relaxed slightly, as a thin line of dust trickled down Ceroba’s neck. Her face softened slightly before her talons and gaze hardened back again.

“I don’t care,” Martlet hissed.

The lab was filled with nothing but the hum of distant equipment and the rasp of Ceroba’s breath under Martlet’s crushing grip.

There was a ding behind them as the elevator opened up.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL MY MOM! ”

The desperate cry rang out behind Martlet..

A small brown fox child stood in the shattered doorway, wide-eyed and trembling, her voice cracking under the weight of terror. Martlet's head snapped around, feathers bristling. That must be Kanako. The child of Chujin and Ceroba. The little girl who had fallen down six months ago.

How was she even- it didn't matter what did matter what the butcher below her

Ceroba stirred beneath her, trying to turn toward the voice, but Martlet’s talons pinned her too tightly. All she could do was let out a hoarse, shuddering breath.

Another voice broke the silence.

“ Feathers— ”

Starlo . His voice was soft, pleading, but firm. He stood in the middle of the ruined doorframe, with the large mark on his face from where Ceroba had bashed him..

“Don’t do this,” he said. “I know she’s done something absolutely horrible, Unforgivable, But… she doesn’t deserve to die.”

Martlet didn’t answer.

Her mind was a whirlwind.

Did this butcher really deserve mercy? After everything?

Clover had been so close to making it home. And Ceroba had cut him down without hesitation. Without regret. Without remorse.

Her talons dug deeper into Ceroba’s neck. The fox’s paw, still stained with Clover’s blood, feebly tried to pry her off. Dust poured from her wounds, mixing with the red. Useless. Weak. Disgusting.

Without thinking, Martlet snatched the soul container from the table. The fragile glass vessel pulsed with a dull yellow glow. She clutched it close to her chest, her wings trembling.

She glanced around the room—the sterile lab with its cold walls and colder machines. Her gaze drifted across bloodstains, scattered tools, and flickering monitors.

Ceroba rasped below her, barely audible now. Pathetic gasps for air.

Then Martlet’s eyes locked onto a screen. A monitor displaying a green soul. with the words 'extraction: 92%' on it in bold white text

She stared.

That soul… the green one. She remembered the day the human it belonged to died. She had only been a kid then. Her parents had told her stories about the green-souled human—how kind they were, how they had tried to help. It was where Martlet's sympathies for humans started.

And now? Even in death… they were still being used.

Her wings tightened on the container.

She didn’t know if human souls could think, or feel, but Clover’s radiated with something. She could feel it, just faintly.

Fear. Sadness. And… loneliness.

Her grip on Ceroba faltered.

Martlet looked down at herself—her talons, her wings, her armored body. None of this was hers. It was stolen . She was only like this because another human been used.

Martlet’s rage trembled at the edge of collapse, cracked open by confusion and grief.

The soul pulsed softly in her arms.

What if she w-

Her thoughts were interrupted as armoured footsteps entered the lab, from the same direction Martlet came from, from waterfall.

“Hey, punk”