Chapter Text
The golden light has appeared only three times before in Frisk’s life.
The first was a day like any other: a day spent in the city library, alone among the stacks, surrounded by silence. They were supposed to be doing homework, but instead they poked around corners, dashed into the employee-only back room, investigated half-opened crates and crawled into small secret spaces. They never saw the mouse, but they heard it squeak sometimes, when no one else was there.
And then, hovering between the shelves, they saw it. A yellow, shimmering point of light, there but also not there, as if it wasn’t as real as everything around it. (Later, it occurred to them that maybe the light was the one real thing, and everything else wasn’t real enough.)
Awed, they reached out to touch it.
Surrounded by the quiet stacks, Frisk was filled with determination. The feeling spread throughout their body, and they could the bright red pulse of your heart grounding them. There was another feeling, in the corner of their head, as if they could just insert a thought just right and…
FILE SAVED
The words flashed against the backs of their eyelids, and then they were gone. The light still hovered in the air. They stared at it silently, and then shrugged and walked away.
A few minutes later, their parents called and said they’d be there in an hour. They figured that meant at least an hour and a half, probably two, so they told them they’d just take the bus.
When they stepped out into the blinding sunlight, they didn’t even see the car.
In that fraction of a second after they felt their bones crunch and rip apart, they expected to see their life flash before their eyes like people say in movies, but instead they just saw endless darkness. In the center, a single red heart. They watched it shatter.
And then they were in the library.
To their right, a bookshelf. In front of them, a haphazard pile of crates. Below, threadbare floor carpeting. Above, the golden light.
This time, they waited a moment longer before they stepped into the street, and they felt the rush of the wind as the car barreled past, accompanied by honks and indignant cries from passerby.
“Are you okay?”
They whirled around. It was some kid the same age as Frisk; they seemed vaguely familiar, but they didn’t know from where. “You look kind of freaked out!” the kid continued.
I’m fine, they signed back without thinking. The kid just looked nervous and confused, and they remembered that the other kid probably wouldn’t know ASL, so Frisk nodded. They looked relieved and wandered away.
When they crossed to the side of the street with the bus stop, another point of light was waiting. They embraced it without question.
That was the second time they have ever seen that unworldly light. The third time was at the very top of Mt. Ebott, as they stood looking into the dark pit below. They had a terrible feeling in your gut—they knew, somehow, that something bad was about to happen—so when they saw the light, they did what came naturally. They ran forward to touch it.
Their shoe caught on a vine, and they tumbled forward. Desperately, they reached out one last time, brushing their fingers through the save point, drawing on all the determination they had.
And now?
Now Frisk is standing far below, in the heart of the mountain. Their heart beats in their ears and their breaths came hard and fast. Behind them, they hear a sound, and they stumble as they turn around.
It’s a golden flower. With a bright, welcoming smile.
“Howdy!” it says happily. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower!”
Toriel saves them, and they wish they could be happy, but they just want to go home. They reach for their save file, but it only takes them to the moment of their fall, the light disappearing far above.
Toriel tells them to stay where they are, to stay safe. Maybe they should have listened, but, well, they’ve never been very good at avoiding trouble.
Monsters attack. Frisk knows they should be more surprised about the whole monsters-are-real thing, but it’s hard to be surprised at anything after almost being murdered by a talking flower and then saved by a kind goat lady who they really want to call “mom” for some reason.
(There’s another reason. It’s that all of this resonates deep in their bones. It feels like they can’t stop this, that this will always happen, that they were meant to do this, that they’ve done this before. But that’s even more ridiculous than the talking flower, so they ignore it.)
They notice that when they get attacked, they have this surreal sense of both the present, physical reality, but also of something else. When Whimsun attacks them—or at least, hovers anxiously near them in a half-heartedly threatening manner—they blink hard, and they can actually see a red heart imprinted on the back of their eyelids. They can even see the yellowish glow that says that Whimsun doesn’t really want to fight. There’s a heartbeat where their hands twitch and the instinct to FIGHT almost takes over. But then they remember, and step back, raising their hands to show they’re unarmed. Whimsun hesitates, and then flutters away, relieved.
They assume that all the monsters are going to be like that, so when Froggit jumps at them, them instinctively cower and try to show an unwillingness to fight him. It doesn’t work.
When the vicious white flies zoom forward, cutting across their limbs and drawing blood, Frisk is so startled at not only the physical pain but the sudden sharp ache in their chest that they don’t even—
Move already! says a voice in their head, exasperated.
They freeze. Two more darts of pain shoot through them. They're too startled to care.
The voice sounds just like Frisk, like any other part of their thoughts, but with strange, hard inflections that don’t sound like them at all. It comes with a foreign presence in the back of their head, too, like there’s something else there that wants itself to be known.
By the time they process that, Froggit is holding himself back warily, waiting for Frisk’s next move.
Well, what are you waiting for? the voice asks, annoyed. Fight back already. I’ll even do it for you, if you like.
With that, the pressure in their mind increases. Somehow it seems almost questioning, like it’s waiting for permission.
But I don’t want to hurt him, they think.
There’s a drawn-out sigh. Look, I’ve been down this route before, okay? The niceness thing didn’t work out for the others, even the ones who could SAVE with kindness or integrity, and it won’t work for you. If you don’t fight back, you won’t get any EXP, and then you won’t get any LOVE, and then you’ll just keep dying easily, over and over again, and eventually you’ll give up just like the others. From poking around in your head I can already tell that you’re absolute crap at fighting, so just… give me the reins for a few minutes, alright?
Frisk doesn’t want to listen, but the voice is being honest, they can hear the truth ringing through their skull. They nod hesitantly.
The pressure in their mind disappears and their limbs move without their permission. They reach down swiftly and pick up a sturdy stick lying by the side of the path and swing down, towards Froggit.
They hear the thud and Frisk wants to shut their eyes—they don’t want to see anyone get hurt—so they grab that bit of autonomy back and slam down their eyelids.
What are you doing, we have to dodge! the voice hisses. Oh my God, Frisk, you have to move out of the way of the bullets before—
They flinch and step out of the way of the first volley, ducking and weaving to avoid getting hit.
Oh, huh, that was actually pretty good, says the voice.
Thanks, Frisk thinks sarcastically.
No, seriously. I think I should take offense and you can take defense. I’m awful at dodging, I always have this instinct to, like, punch the bullets or something, and then I just end up hurting myself and it’s embarrassing for everyone involved. We can be a team.
They hesitate. They’re not sure they want to be a team if it involves hurting people, but…
Then they lose their train of thought because they realize that Froggit is hanging back, and when they shut their eyes there’s that yellow glow, the one that means the monster doesn’t want to fight them anymore. Automatically, they take a step back and smile reassuringly at Froggit.
He hops away. Frisk lets out a breath, relieved.
You can’t just keep letting them go forever, the voice reminds them.
There’s this strange vegetable monster that won’t listen, no matter that Frisk refuses the voice’s offer to fight for them and tries to talk with the monster instead, and they’re getting weaker and weaker and it hurts and they’re just so frustrated, and then they give in.
The voice takes hold of Frisk’s body and slashes at the vegetable monster. It dissolves into dust, scattering on their shoes. They jump back, stomach churning.
It gets easier, says the voice. It was hard for the others on their first runs, too.
Toriel’s house is so warm and so safe that they want to stay there forever. When they sink down onto the bed, they don’t ever want to get up. There’s a sense of kindness and compassion that hangs around her, and they don’t want to leave.
They dream. There’s a bed of golden flowers, and they have a friend who is always trailing after them and asking if they’re alright every time they trip and scrape their knees. He scrapes his knees too, and in the dream they’re telling him to stop crying, just stop, it’s so annoying—
When they wake up, there’s a slice of pie waiting and someone has turned off the lights. They slip out into the hallway (it’s because they want to explore, they tell themself, not because they don’t want to be alone in the dark, definitely not that, they’re far too determined to be frightened of the dark) and check out their host’s room.
They realize they’re not hungry, not exactly, but they figure they can’t be sure when they’re going to get another meal, so they reach for the pie slice they’ve stuffed in their pocket. They’re about to take a bite, but for the first time in several hours the voice speaks up. No, don’t.
They pause. Why not?
Toriel’s cooking is filled with really intense magic. You’ll need it for when you’re up against the enemy you can’t beat.
That doesn’t sound good to Frisk at all. What enemy?
Sooner or later you’ll go up against a monster that keeps killing you, over and over again. You’ll load your SAVE and try to beat them, but you’ll just keep dying, and then you’ll give up. They always do. Even the one who could SAVE with perseverance gave up when they couldn’t beat Gerson. The one who had the powers of kindness let me do all the attacking and dodging, I had to use up all my energy just to take over and stop them from literally healing their enemies with their stupid frying pan, but halfway through Hotland they just sort of gave up on kindness existing in the world—or however weirdo kindness power works—and couldn’t load their SAVE anymore, and they stayed dead.
Coldness spreads through their body. They think of the golden light and the pain of the car crash, and how only their determination to continue living allowed them to return.
The voice is still talking. So I know that eventually you’ll go up against an obstacle you can’t beat and then you’ll lose your determination, and then I’ll wake up in the mind of the next fallen human. But if you keep a piece of Toriel’s cooking, then it’ll heal you during a battle and maybe you’ll last long enough to make it to the surface.
You keep mentioning other humans, they think. So… they could SAVE too? Did they see the golden light? No one else I know can see the light.
Most humans up above don’t even see the entrance to Mount Ebott. It’s concealed from them because their souls aren’t strong enough. Human souls are a muted, dull gray.
Frisk remembers the bright red heart. But my soul is red.
That’s because you’re different. There are seven different key powers of the soul, and if you’re a mage—if you have one of those powers—you can see Mount Ebott. Your soul power is determination.
They hug themselves, shivering a little. And the others who fell down the mountain, they all lost hope, and couldn’t load their SAVE anymore… They shake their head adamantly. That won’t happen to me. I’m too determined.
Frisk continues to wander through the house. They notice the 201X calendar on the wall and wonder why it’s so dusty—it’s still 201X, right?
No it’s not, says the voice sharply.
Frisk blinks. Yes it is.
It’s not, insists the voice. 201X was years and years ago.
They shrug and keep walking, sneaking quietly past Toriel in the living room (she’s reading peacefully and you don’t want to disturb her). They’re sure the voice is mistaken; maybe it has an incorrect perception of time since it’s been trapped underground for so long.
I’m not wrong, and I’m not an “it,” either. My name’s Chara, I use they/them pronouns like you do, and—is that chocolate?
Frisk pauses in the act of closing the refrigerator door. I’m not a fan of chocolate, they admit.
The voice sighs dramatically. I’ll forgive you… this time.
Chara goes quiet when Frisk approaches Toriel to ask when they can go home. When the conversation is done, Chara speaks up only to say that the way out of the ruins is down the stairs and through the hallway Toriel doesn’t want them to walk down.
When Toriel stands in the way of the door out of the Ruins with fire in her hands, Chara still says nothing. Instead of words, Frisk just feels aching sorrow seeping through their bones.
I don’t want to fight, they sign frantically.
Toriel’s expression hardens. She looks away.
They choose to FIGHT, brandishing their stick nervously and expecting Chara to jump in. There’s no response. Frisk stares at Toriel, eyes trembling with tears, and lowers their weapon.
Walls of fire sweep past them. They try to dodge, but their vision is blurry and they’re shaking with silent sobs. Fire burns their skin, the pain searing all the way to their soul.
They throw the stick to the side and spread their hands. I just want to go home, they sign. Why won’t you look me in the eye?
This time Toriel’s flames dodge and weave so that they don’t go near them. When it comes their turn to attack, they don’t lift a hand.
She won’t let them near the door, but she won’t hurt them either. They take a deep breath and stay where they are, staring her down, willing her to see that they won’t be chased away. I’m not like the other fallen humans, they decide fiercely. This isn’t my home, and I’m not backing down.
Toriel’s brows crease. Frisk stays where they are.
Her hands begin to shake. Frisk’s feet remain planted to the ground.
Her mouth trembles. Frisk stares at her, unmoving.
Finally, finally, she allows her flames to fizzle out.
“My child,” she whispers. “Please… go back upstairs.”
I won’t, they answer.
“Please. You’ll be safe here.”
I don’t want to be safe. I want to go home.
“This is your home. If you go out there, you will get hurt. They will try to take your soul. Asgore has already felled six children—he will stop at nothing for the seventh.”
The name echoes off the walls, sending chills straight to the marrow of their bones. But still they do not hesitate to sign, I have no choice. I have to keep going.
She looks at them for a long moment and then nods slowly, sadly. “I understand.” She steps away from the door. “This door will take you out of the ruins. But if you leave… please, I must ask that you do not return.”
They nod.
Toriel walks around them and pauses at the door to the hallway. “Be safe, my child,” she says softly. And then she’s gone.
Frisk cranes their neck, examining the tall iron door covered in runes. They trail a hand over a twisting, purple pictogram.
It’s the Delta Rune, says Chara suddenly.
They jump, startled. What?
Just a stupid picture for a stupid story that doesn’t mean anything, the voice says bitterly. Look, you have to go back. To your last SAVE, in front of Toriel’s house.
Frisk frowns. The last thing they want to do is face Toriel like that again.
You have to kill her, alright? She’s a boss monster. You need her soul to get past the barrier to the surface.
Their eyes go wide. What? No!
You don’t have a choice.
I can’t, they think desperately, tugging at their hair. No, I don’t—are there other boss monsters?
Yeah, but he’s too hard to kill. You don’t have the skills to do it now, and you’d give up long before you’d get good enough to strike him down. And I won’t be able to help. I can’t ever bring myself to attack him.
They raise an eyebrow. But you’ve got the stomach to fight Toriel? Really? You’d fight Goatmom?
Don’t call her that, Chara snaps. Then their voice softens. But, yeah. You’re right, I guess. I was kind of hoping you’d fight her for me. I really, really can’t.
This other boss monster, would he try to hurt me, or would he be like Toriel?
No, admits Chara. He’ll try to kill you.
Then we’ll make a deal, Frisk decides. When we get to this boss monster, if you still can’t fight him, I’ll do it for you.
Chara scoffs. Really? You won’t give up on loading your SAVE? Not ever? Even after he’s stabbed through your chest for the hundredth and sixty-third time? That’s how many times Asgore killed the kid whose soul was filled with justice before they decided not to fight back anymore.
Asgore? they ask in alarm. That’s the boss monster I have to kill?
If you let Mom go? Yes.
Frisk thinks of the awful queasiness they felt when the vegetable monster’s dust fell to the ground, the wrenching in their gut at the knowledge that they killed someone and that someone won’t ever come back. They think about Chara, telling them with complete certainty that killing would get easier, eventually, and the flippant way they asked Frisk why they weren’t fighting back. They think about what it would take for someone like Chara, who speaks so casually about killing, to be unable to harm a monster even though refusing to fight would mean their death. They think about a bodiless voice, condemned to watch helplessly as human after human lives and fights and dies, trying to get to the surface, over and over again. They think about trying to keep those humans alive, until they refuse to keep on surviving, and then becoming trapped once again.
I’ll kill him so you don’t have to. And I won’t give up, Frisk announces.
Chara doesn’t say anything, but they seem unconvinced. Frisk isn’t sure how they know that, since it’s not like Chara has body language or anything, but they just sort of exude an aura of dubiousness.
Frisk tries for a smile. I’m not like the others. I have determination, remember?
With that, they push open the door and step through.