Chapter Text
“Alright… just like Kris did…” Catti whispers, her breath quivering as icy fear suffocates her chest. She tells herself to sound braver than she feels, but the words come out thin and fragile. A thousand doubts batter her mind, chasing each other in frantic circles, all with her own voice. She remembers how she used to laugh alongside Kris, the lazy afternoons spent with dumb jokes and shared secrets, the kind of friendship that made everything feel lighter, until everything changed. Sometimes she replays those moments, voices echoing in her mind like a scratched-up tape she cannot fix. Watching Kris drift away, carrying secret pain while pushing everyone out, had left Catti feeling useless and invisible, a ghost with a pulse, stuck on the sidelines while her friend fell further and further out of reach.
She swallowed, ears flattened back, wishing just once it would be easy to say how much she misses them instead of clawing her words apart inside. But when she saw Kris create the Fountain at the school just yesterday, everything suddenly clicked into focus. In that moment, she recognized something raw in Kris, something that thudded in her own chest: not just loneliness, but the desperate need to matter to someone, to change something, anything, if it meant not fading away.
She saw the way Kris had done it, the ritual, the intent, the DETERMINATION swirling around them, and realized that maybe, if she paid enough attention, she could do it too. It left an impression on her, the process burning in her memory, each step clear because she had watched so closely, desperate for a sign she could follow.
Now, after a sleepless night replaying those moments over and over, she tells herself that making a Dark World might be the only way to finally help Kris, or at least prove to herself that she can make a difference. If she can do this, maybe she'll stop feeling like she never mattered at all. All those times she wanted to reach out but froze, all the things she should have said, crowd together in her memory now, heavy and sharp.
But this is her chance to do something, to matter. She aches for their friendship to mean something again, desperate to matter to Kris, to be seen and trusted the way they once trusted each other. More than anything, Catti hopes that if she can do something bold, something only Kris could do before, she might prove she is not just a spectator in Kris's life, but someone who can truly help, maybe even bring them back. If she can prove she is strong too, if she can shape her own Dark World, maybe Kris would look at her differently, maybe she could patch the crack that's formed between them. The urge to act, to finally stop feeling powerless, claws at her. It is not just about making some new world, it is about refusing to be a bystander anymore.
She wants to show she can take action, that she is not helpless, that for once, she could be the one to save someone else, even if her hands are shaking, even if she is terrified. Right now, she is desperate to believe that her choices can still matter. Her paws, slick with sweat, clutch the kitchen knife so tightly her claws dig into the worn handle. Each heartbeat thunders in her ears, the world shrinking until all that remains is her, the knife, and the impossible task before her. “But this time, it’ll be better…”
The alley seems to pulse with restless life. The air is thick with the scent of rain-soaked stone and rotting flowers as neon lights from the apartments above fracture into a thousand shards in the puddles, casting shimmering, broken illusions across graffiti-scarred walls. As she raises the knife, shadowy sparks leap and crawl above it, painting writhing patterns that twist and slither over the brick and concrete.
With a desperate, almost feral surge, she brings the blade down hard. The concrete shudders beneath the blow, splitting open with an unearthly roar that vibrates through her bones, a sound like Hometown itself crying out in pain. Darkness spills forth in a tidal wave, devouring every fragment of light and color. The shadows writhe and multiply, coiling through the alley, and for a breathless moment, Hometown dissolves around her, replaced by a vast, hungry void that seems to ache for something lost.
Ralsei’s voice was gentle, barely disturbing the heavy silence. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about anything?”
Susie didn’t move. She lay curled up on the bed, her back to him, shoulders hunched in tight knots. The room was thick with shadows, the only light a faint glow from the hallway. “No,” she whispered, her voice raw and unsteady. Her claws dug sharp crescents into the mattress, clinging to it as if it might anchor her against the tide of her own thoughts.
Ralsei hesitated at the edge of the bed, uncertainty flickering across his features. “Are you just going to keep… lying in their bed…?” His words trailed off, swallowed by the hush that hung between them.
Kris's bed in their shared room with Susie in Castle Town was steeped in their scent, a comforting blend of worn cotton, a hint of spice, and something undeniably Kris. As Susie buried her face in the pillow, the familiar smell dragged her back through a storm of memories. Every detail pressed in on her, making her ache with longing for those ordinary, precious moments she’d taken for granted.
She would never say it out loud, but the silence between them gnawed at her insides, leaving her raw and restless. Not talking to Kris felt unnatural, like missing a step on the stairs, jarring, nauseating, and impossible to ignore. She’d grown so used to their presence that now, with only the empty space and the echo of their absence, it felt as if a piece of her had been misplaced.
Ralsei’s voice trembled with gentle insistence, each word tiptoeing through the tension. “Maybe you should hear their side, Susie. Let them explain themselves. Maybe… maybe they did it for a reason we can’t see yet.”
Susie’s jaw clenched. She twisted over, eyes tracing cracks in the ceiling, her breath ragged with frustration. “What’s there to explain, Ralsei?” Her voice was sharp and raw. “They were opening the Fountains all along. They’re the reason the Roaring almost happened. They lied to us.”
Ralsei’s hands fidgeted in his lap, ears drooping. “But they’re also the reason for so many good things, Susie. All the adventures we’ve had, all the ways we changed… they were leading us through. Doesn’t that count for something?” His words faded, uncertain, swallowed by the ache that lingered between them.
A shaky breath slipped from Susie, heavy with defeat. “Even if it does, what I did…” Her voice faltered, thick with shame. “I lost it again. I couldn’t stop myself. I even… Noelle…”
Her face twisted, emotions warring for control, rage burning bright, regret hollowing her eyes, fear tightening her jaw, and sorrow darkening her features. Each feeling flickered across her face in painful succession. Tears welled, blurring her vision, until she buried her face in her hands, shoulders quaking with silent sobs. “Ugh!” The sound was raw, torn from somewhere deep and wounded.
Ralsei’s words pierced the fog of Susie’s self-loathing, his voice gentle but resolute. “Maybe you should just go talk to them. I believe they’d forgive you. Noelle, too.” There was no judgment in his tone, only a quiet certainty, as if forgiveness was as real and inevitable as sunrise.
Susie wiped at her eyes, her breath hitching as she tried to steady herself. “You’re probably right, Ralsei.” Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, raw with vulnerability. “But I just… I don’t know how. What if I mess it up again?” Her gaze dropped to her lap, claws nervously picking at the blanket, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
Ralsei edged closer, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. The warmth of his presence radiated through the silence, gentle and grounding. “Just start with an apology,” he said softly, his words a calm anchor in the storm of her doubt. “A simple ‘sorry’ can open doors you thought were locked forever.”
A tentative smile broke through Susie’s tears as she sat up, the heaviness in her chest easing for the first time that night. She wiped her cheeks, a shaky laugh escaping her. “How poetic of you, heh.”
Ralsei’s face lit up, his smile bright and earnest, a breath of fresh air after a long, stifling night. “Y-You think so? I’ve been practicing. I’d love to read you some of my poems sometime!”
“That sounds nice,” Susie said, nudging Ralsei’s arm as she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. “Just promise they’re not all about flowers and fluff. I don’t wanna fall asleep halfway through.”
As Ralsei’s laughter faded, a chill rippled down his spine, raising the fur on the back of his neck. The warmth in the room evaporated in an instant. He shot up from the bed, panic flooding his eyes, his hands clenching at his robe. “Susie, wait—”
She turned, startled by the sudden shift in his voice. “What? You okay?”
Ralsei’s gaze was distant, searching. “I can feel it… another Dark Fountain. Somewhere out there, someone’s creating one right now. The magic is… fresh. Unstable.” He hesitated, eyes unfocused as if listening for something beyond what anyone else could hear.
Susie bolted upright, fists clenching at her sides, anger flashing like a lightning strike across her face. “What?! They wouldn’t— even after everything—”
Ralsei shook his head, urgency trembling in his words. "Hold on, this one isn't like the others. It feels... nervous. Hesitant. If it was Kris again, I'd know. This is different. Someone's scared, but... determined. The way the energy is flickering, it’s almost like whoever is creating it doesn’t fully know how, or maybe their heart isn't steady. There’s so much fear and desperation mixed in, it’s making the whole thing shake beneath the surface."
"When a Fountain is unstable like this, it can tear at the boundaries between worlds or even collapse on itself, swallowing everything around it. Sometimes, if the creator's intent is too fractured, the darkness grows wild and lashes out, twisting the entire area into something dangerous and unpredictable. It's not just about creating a gateway, if something goes wrong, the Fountain might never close, or worse, it could consume anyone caught nearby. The legends say that’s why only a few can do it safely, and why even small changes in your intent shift the kind of world you create. It’s dangerous, and if you make a mistake, it affects everyone nearby."
He hesitates, then adds, "Most people don’t realize, but making a Fountain is not just about having DETERMINATION, it’s about shaping that willpower with purpose. The process itself is dangerous because if your intent isn’t clear or if your emotions are unstable, the Fountain can come out wild and unpredictable. That's why only a few have ever managed to create one, and always by watching or learning from others. Even when Kris opened the Fountains before, it was only possible because they understood how. It fits with what the legends say, that the Knight needs both DETERMINATION and focus.”
“There’s even a story, maybe it’s just an old Darkner legend, about a Fountain someone tried to create out of spite and heartbreak. They lost control halfway through, and the darkness they unleashed never properly took shape. Instead, it swallowed up part of the city it was in, twisting it into an endless maze no one could ever escape. People say the shadows there never sleep, and every path leads you back to your own fears. Some even believe it’s still out there, hidden, waiting for someone foolish enough to get lost inside.”
“If someone tries it without guidance or control, the darkness gets volatile, like it’s fighting itself. It’s easy for the magic to spiral out of control, especially if the heart behind it is confused or hurting."
Susie’s eyes widened, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Wait, you can actually feel when a Fountain opens? Why the hell didn’t you say anything before? How does that even work?” The surprise in her tone was edged with frustration, a mixture of awe, suspicion, and the urgency of someone who suddenly realized the rules had changed.
After a moment, he added softly, “It’s because I’m connected to the Fountains, somehow, maybe it’s being a Darkner, or maybe it’s something more. I always sense them when they awaken, like the world itself sends out a ripple I can feel in my chest.” He glanced at Susie, voice low and thoughtful. “Whenever a new Fountain opens, I get this... pull, like gravity. The air in the Dark World changes, it hums, almost aches. I think all Darkners feel it, but for me, it’s clearer, as if the magic calls out, whispering that something important has changed.”
He swallowed, voice dropping as he tried to describe the sensation. "When a Fountain is stable, the magic hums with focus and control. I can feel the intent holding everything together, like the current of a river flowing strong and clear. But this one... it's unsteady, pulsing in fits and starts. The magic stutters, like it's struggling to take shape, and the darkness around it twists in jagged waves. It's as if the Fountain itself is uncertain, almost afraid to fully form."
“There are actual steps to it. First, the would-be creator stands at a place meaningful to them, usually holding something with a sharp edge, like a knife or a blade. They focus all their thoughts on what they want to change, every hope and every fear, and try to shape that into a single unwavering goal in their heart. It’s said that you have to speak a wish or a command, sometimes out loud, sometimes just in your mind. Then, with all that force of will, you make a cut or a strike into the surface, concrete, earth, anything solid. The moment the blow lands, you have to pour in your intention, let the darkness answer, and believe with everything you have that the new world will appear. If anything distracts you or you doubt yourself, the Fountain might not form at all, or it could take on a twisted shape, reflecting the worst parts of whatever was in your mind.”
“But… me and Kris are the only ones who know how to make a Dark Fountain.” Susie’s voice was thin with disbelief, her thoughts racing. Then her eyes widened, realization crashing over her. “Unless… Catti! She watched Kris make the Fountain at the school. You think she’d try to make her own?”
Ralsei’s grip on Susie’s hands tightened, urgency sharpening the edges of his words. “I don’t know. But if someone else is creating Fountains— especially one this unstable— it’s a disaster waiting to happen.” His eyes searched hers, pleading for action. “We have to get over there. Now.”
Susie’s confidence faltered, her voice almost breaking. “But… without Kris, we can’t—”
Ralsei squeezed her hands, meeting her gaze with a steadiness that cut through the panic. “Then find them. You know the way. I believe in you, Susie.”
A beat of hesitation, then resolve hardened Susie’s features. She nodded once, sharp and steadfast, before bolting out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall, a promise to do whatever it took.
She charges up the driveway, heart hammering in her chest as rain streams down her face, and pounds on the door with frantic urgency. “Kris! Kris, hey! Open up!”
Her fists drum against the wood until, at last, the door swings open to reveal Toriel in her nightgown, eyes wide with alarm. “Susie! Are you alright? What’s going on? It’s late!”
Without waiting for permission, Susie darts past her, voice rising above the howling wind. “Sorry, Miss Toriel, but it’s really important!” She takes the stairs two at a time, feet slipping on the wet floor, and bursts into Kris's room, only to find the space empty, her breath catching in her throat as shock and worry collide.
“Kris? Where the hell are you…?” Susie’s voice cracks with a mix of worry and impatience as she scans the empty room, her breath still ragged from the sprint.
“Um, I think they’re in the bathroom,” Toriel offers gently, appearing in the doorway behind Susie. Her concern is evident in the way her hands flutter anxiously at her sides.
“Got it!” Susie blurts, already bolting for the stairs. She skids to a stop in front of the bathroom, fist pounding urgently on the door. “Kris! You in there? Come on, hurry up, we’ve got, uh, important group project stuff with Noelle!” Her voice is rough with nerves, the excuse tumbling out in a rush.