Author's Note:

Thanks to my beta readers new and old for all their help, with special thanks to ML for their Undertale expertise and to AJ for his usual editing review.

Now that I'm getting deeper into the Undertale side of things, I would also like any reviewers with spare time to critique the lines of dialogue used by those characters. Is Undyne in character, for example? I've taken plenty more time trying to ensure this work is at least moderately accurate, but anything helps. Thank you for your time, and I'll see what I can do about improving the quality of my work moving forward.

Cheers!


There's something about pain and adrenaline that tends to clear a person's mind, provided the injury wasn't to their head. It's one of those things the body does to prepare itself for a fight, or to help you survive one you're already in. The human body is a remarkable thing, capable of great feats of strength, speed and endurance that can make even some of the more supernatural threats think twice about playing nasty with the "puny little humans." Just about everybody's heard that old story of a mother lifting a car off of her child, or of some poor schmuck in the woods running like the wind from a bear and then climbing a tree. Probably while screaming. Less heard of are the consequences to the body when it gets pushed that hard, because there's plenty of pretty good reasons humans aren't able to bench press a small car whenever they feel like it.

Trying to lift triple the body's normal limit in one go can literally rip the muscles off your bones if you're unlucky. Which is kind of what my arm felt like after I'd messed up that force spell that necromancer (a small part of my mind took a moment to start calling her Dr. Death) had shrugged off. The adrenaline and other stuff a body puts out in a fight numbed the pain a little, but I could still feel the blood leaking out from under my fingernails, and see the way my forearm was turning bruised-black. It wouldn't stop me from casting, but it would make it hurt even more to try to throw spells with my right hand in the meanwhile, especially if I tried without my staff again.

Despite all that, I held up my shaking, bloody hand, pointing it more or less in Asgore and the Spear Knight's direction.

"Asgore," I greeted through clenched teeth. "You're late, I think."

The mind moves quickly when it's pushed, and I took a moment to get a better look at the both of them, extending my wizard's senses.

Asgore, King of the Underground, was wearing heavy golden plate mail under a thick purple cloak, and as he stepped forward and shifted his arms, the cloth pulled back to reveal the Monsters' symbol, the Delta Rune, etched into his armor. I also caught a haze around his gauntleted paws, and I suppressed a sudden twist in my gut over the possible fire outside my control. He lifted those paws into a placating gesture with a "we're peaceful, harmless creatures, we swear!" smile.

Before he spoke, I gave the Spear Knight a half-second once-over. His platemail was silver to the King's gold, layered more heavily in the chest, with jagged metal spikes coming up from the neck brace to give the red-plumed helmet the illusion of a shark's serrated teeth, but there were chinks covered only by leather in the armor under the armpit and between the legs, as though the long chest piece was designed more as a skirt than for platelegs; the armor continued at the knee, but there was only thick leather above that. I got the feeling something was missing, but wasn't sure what it was.

The Knight's man-length spear was held back behind him, tip pointed at the ground, like I'd seen in some japanese comics. It's a good move if you're worried about tripping and spearing yourself with the tip while running, but a terrible fighting stance at close range. It's also a move designed for a sword, not a spear.

"We mean you no harm, Dresden," the King said softly, eying my outstretched, shaking hand. "We'd believed your shield would protect you. I am sorry for your injury, friend."

I held my hand up for a moment more, seeing Thomas with his Kukri held off to the side, following my lead. He'd fight it out if I did, even if there was a chance it'd get us both killed. He trusted me, and I trusted him, all the other crap aside. But he wasn't the reason I put my hand down.

Mouse nudged my leg. He wasn't whining or growling, just letting me know he was there. Like I've said, my dog is practically psychic about these things. If he wasn't gearing up for a fight, then I probably shouldn't be, either.

I swallowed against my suddenly dry mouth, and took one last look at the King's covered hands. He might be ready to throw down a ton of fire, but he hadn't. Yet. I lowered my throbbing right arm, the pain just strong enough to remind me to be a little more careful next time, and I managed to fight off the instinctive urge to cradle it in my left hand.

"Like I said, you're late," I repeated. "Where were you an hour ago?"

"Unavoidably detained," he sighed, looking at my arm like my mechanic Mike sometimes looks at the Blue Beetle after any particularly strange damage, that critical squint just before he accepts the car and doesn't ask questions about how precisely the seats had gotten a year of mold grown into them in the span of a single week. "May I take a look at that?" he asked, pointing a finger at my injury.

"I'd rather you didn't, actually," I snapped.

"Argh!" the Spear Knight grunted, muffled by his helmet, and started swinging his spear around while he yelled. I took a step back. "What's with the third degree all of a sudden!? After we helped fight off that dark wizard, why are you treating us like the enemy here?!"

The King just sighed deeply and put one of those massive gauntlets on the Knight's shoulder. He stiffened, then roared and threw the spear at the ground. I held my left arm up, ready to block anything he'd throw, and Thomas sidled up next to me and behind where my shield would appear. Arms free, the Knight ripped his sharkhead helmet off and threw it at the ground, revealing his face; it was an actual fish-like face, with lips pulled back from real shark-like teeth in a snarl. His scaled face was blue, his ears were fins, and he had an eyepatch over his left eye, though the uncovered eye was yellow and slitted like a cat's. I noticed he'd pulled his red hair, that plume I'd thought was part of his helmet, into a ponytail.

"I'm sick and tired of everyone treating us like we're about to go off and start up another war, when it's us dying out there!" He yelled in a remarkably feminine voice. "We just want to help out and every time we think things are going to be ok, it just-"

The King squeezed the knight's shoulder, and his anger just died. He dropped his head, clenched his fists and then just… let it go. "Please forgive Undyne," Asgore said softly. "She's had a very hard day."

"I don't care what kind of day he's had, you don't ju-st…" I trailed off, that last sentence catching up with me a moment later, killing my train of thought. "Wait, that's not a guy?"

Everybody just stared at me, like I'd just asked if they were absolutely sure that punting kittens over my back fence wasn't considered an acceptable pastime. Thomas may have known because he's an emotion-succubus, but there were no signs pointing to Sir Spears-a-lot not being a Sir!

"Heh," the Fish Knight, Undyne the King had called her, huffed, getting a strange twitch at the corner of her mouth. "You thought I was a guy?"

"Uhm…" I uhmed, dropping my shield arm. "Are you sure you're not? I mean, you've got the whole 'thousands of spears, let's blot out the sun' thing going on, and you kind of look like those guys at the gym who don't skimp out on their wheaties, 'cus of all that armor, almost like you're compensating for something," I rambled, my brain tilting sideways and my mouth filling the silence so maybe I wouldn't have to answer for whatever it was spitting out, "and it just didn't occur to me that you might be covering because you don't have-"

Thomas elbowed me in the gut, and I finally managed to shut my mouth.

Undyne, who I was now categorizing as one of those girls who could fold my lanky six-foot-five form into the Blue Beetle's tiny front trunk, just looked over at the King, who had furrowed his brow and had his mouth open just enough to make it look like he had a question he didn't know how to phrase, and then she looked at Thomas, who just shrugged and shook his head like he didn't have an answer, and then finally down at Mouse. I looked down at Mouse as well, and he just chuffed like an engine that wouldn't turn over. I recognized it as him laughing at me.

Undyne's mouth twitched again as she looked back up at me. "Thousand spears like I'm compensating for something?" she asked, folding her arms. She broke into a wide grin, and I took in the mouthful of shark teeth glinting at me.

A moment later, she doubled over laughing, slowly at first, then leaned back and laughed harder at the sky. "FUHUHUHU! Y-you thought…!?"

Asgore smiled lightly, but it looked forced. I had the feeling this was less "you're really funny" and more "my day requires I laugh now." I've had a few of those. I cleared my throat, but Thomas didn't hear me.

"Thank you for helping us," Thomas said over Fish Knight's cackling. "It wouldn't have been pleasant to fight a necromancer on our own. So thank you."

"Right," I agreed, figuring it was a better choice than pissing off the people holding my next paycheck. "Thanks for the backup. Real nice timing, what with whatever stuff you were dealing with out of the way."

"FU HU Hu ha ha…" Undyne slowed down, then sobered up the rest of the way. It morphed into a grimace. "Yeah. Rough day for everybody. Stuff."

"We have lost friends today, Wizard," Asgore said. "I was shoring up my people's defenses against magical attack."

"Ah," I said with a wince of my own, and almost brought my hand up to scratch the back of my neck before it started throbbing again. I put it back down. "I'm sorry."

"I should like to hope it was not your fault, and that you have little to apologize for." He paused, looking at my hand again, then shook his head and stepped forward with a paw out. "Please, it pains me to see anyone else in pain. May I aid you, at least to stop the bleeding?"

"...Fine. Be careful with it, will you?" I held my hand forward.

Asgore brought his gauntlets together and a ball of fire burst into life between them.

I fell on my ass scrambling to get the hell away from him, tripping over Mouse, managing to crawl a few more steps away before my heart stopped pounding and my head stopped screaming at me to just get the hell out of there.

"Harry?" Thomas was at my side in an instant, and I fought to catch my breath, heart shoving itself up into my throat and my head, and my hand painfully jackhammering away with every beat. "Are you alright?"

"F-fine," I managed to say, but it was a little while longer before I really was. Nobody said anything, just stood there, watching, but Asgore had dropped the fire the moment I'd turned fight-or-flight.

"...I'm fine," I repeated, shaking my head. "Just still having a little trouble with uncontrolled fires. Fires I'm not controlling, I mean."

"Jeez," Undyne said, "what kinda mess do you have to go through to be that scared of a little healing fire?"

"Ha. Healing fire. Nice element for healing, fire, isn't it?" I asked sourly. I shook my head again and held up my gloved left hand. "I had a run in with a nest of Black Court vampires last year. Think Bram Stroker's Dracula, if you've heard of him. They had a flamethrower, and my shield wasn't set to stop heat. My hand still barely works. I just need a moment before I put my other hand in a fire, alright?"

"Wizard, I swear to you, I will not harm you with my fire," Asgore said forcefully, and I noted it was the first time I'd heard him raise his voice. "I swear it."

"...Swear it on your power," I said back, looking up past his nose to the bridge between his eyes, avoiding looking at them directly.

They widened for a moment, so I knew he realized what I was asking him to do.

When a wizard makes that kind of promise, they tie some of their magic into it. Magic is tied to belief, and when you break a promise on your magic, it means you don't value your magic enough, don't think it's worth whatever you promised. If you break a promise, you lose a little of your magical power, permanently. It's usually not a huge loss, but it's always noticeable. You don't get to break too many promises made on your magic over the course of your life before it cripples your ability, and you can even lose your spark completely if you keep at it.

I remembered a moment later that the Underground Monsters were made of magic. It was entirely possible I'd just asked him to swear it on his life, literally.

"I swear it, by my magic, that I will not harm you or your friends intentionally, and that I will do everything in my power to help heal your injury this night," he stated clearly, and Undyne blinked her one eye at him. He held his paws forward again, and gave me that tiny smile again. "Please, Mr. Dresden. I am not an expert in the healing arts, but I have practiced them for many years. I will endeavor to be gentle."

I looked at Thomas, who put his Kukri away. He just shrugged. Well. That was a first. Next up, though, was the follow through. Promises are give and take, whether you're giving or receiving.

I held my arm up and looked pointedly away, but the sound of an open flame bursting to life made all the little hairs on my body stand up. A moment later, I felt… warm. Relaxed, like somebody was performing a lay-on-hands over my hand, forearm, all the way up to my shoulder. Then… all the way to my core, stopping at the bruises I'd gotten on my back at Morty's like a heated compress with a hint of gooey aloe vera, like you get for sun burns. It was a little invigorating, and I felt calm, like I'd laid down in front of my fireplace at home and enjoyed a short nap.

Then it was over, and the chilly night returned.

"I am sorry, friend," Asgore said softly as I looked over his handiwork. I stretched my fingers, and they were stiff, like I'd exercised my muscles too hard, but they moved the way I told them to, and they didn't burn or sting like they did before. Healing magic is some of the toughest there is, and most Healers on the White Council had multiple college degrees from medical schools to deal with the complexity of it all, but I guess Mr. Fluffy Fire Paws had taken the time to learn. I clenched my fingers into a fist and nodded at the King.

"Thank you."

"I am afraid my skills were insufficient to the task, but my, er, that is to say," he floundered for a moment, "the Queen may be able to improve on my work. Unless you still wished to visit this bar you spoke of?"

"Whichever," I sighed. "I'd like to get you informed and then get home and get armed. I've been in two fights too many without all my equipment, and it's making me antsy, especially if Dr. Death and friends are prowling for me. The faster you ask your questions, the faster we can go home."

The King knitted his brow and Thomas poked me, then pointed at the front of the Blue Beetle. I didn't ask, just shrugged and waved him over to do whatever it was he needed. "This is your second fight in recent times? That does not bode well."

"I guess I get why you got all freaked out when we just showed up and started taking that, uh, Dr. Death to town, then," Undyne said, giving me another shark's smile. "No hard feelings, eh guy?"

"Bingo!" Thomas called out, then took a freakin' sawn-off double-barrel shotgun out of my car's front trunk. "Figured it'd be a good idea to leave this in here."

"Thomas!" I shouted, furious. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you'd left that in my car?! I could have used that earlier!"

"Uh," Asgore said, looking slowly between us. "Is that modified weapon not illegal to own or use in this state? Or, perhaps, in this country?"

"Between having it and getting my face chewed off by something that goes bump in the night, I'll risk a little jail time over dying horribly," I told him seriously.

Undyne just smiled wider.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the teeth that belong on something a thousand leagues under the sea, or maybe it's the way her one eye goes wide when she smiles like that, but I just wasn't feeling it. I didn't like it when the scary fish lady with the spears o' doom smiled. It just didn't give me the warm fuzzies.

I scowled and asked whether it was going to be a problem that we were planning on moving around armed. Thomas took some kind of yellow spray bottle out of the trunk and started spritzing the sidewalk, and truth be told, I had no idea what he was doing.

"I am merely attempting to be aware of the laws, so that my people can avoid any unnecessary conflicts with them. I do not wish to cause you undue stress."

"So, you fought more of those guys earlier, right? You take any of them out?" Undyne asked, pulling one of her silver-mailed thumbs across her neck with a cruel smile.

"No. Just managed to get shot at before I threw a van at her."

"Harry, did you want to move this along so we could get moving?" Thomas cut in while loading shells out of a box he'd left with the gun, having heard the story before. "Tell them what they need to know and get paid. We've got places to be."

"If you're worried about further conflict, then I must insist that you stay at my home tonight," Asgore said, taking a moment to scan the area, as though somebody else was already coming after us. Though truth be told, they probably were; it's only paranoia if there aren't really horrors out there waiting to kill you. "We have leased a large house on what you call the Golden Coast, and it is reasonably secured against general attack by now."

Thomas and I exchanged looks. "I saw a guy earlier, works with the restless spirits of the dead," I said hurriedly, "and he told me that there are dead things walking around that area. If you're already dealing with attacks-"

"Then we may have left our family vulnerable," he breathed just as quickly in response, then looked up at my eyes. I quickly moved my gaze to his forehead under his golden bangs, not eager to get pulled into a Soul Gaze. "Dresden, where were these dead things, precisely?"

I walked over to the Beetle, pulling the map out of my coat, and Thomas slammed the trunk shut so I could lay it open over the hood under the street light. I paused for a moment and looked up at it, noting the discrepancy, then smoothed out the creases in the paper. Several red marks dotted the city: there was a heavy splotch on both the Field Museum of Natural History and on the University of Chicago (where I had friends I made a mental note to warn), and there were smaller blots on a local bookstore, Bock Ordered Books, on the morgue, and on Mac's Bar, with a tiny red dot on the interstate 90, way out towards Rockford. There was also a circle, with lines spread haphazardly across it, centered around the Golden Coast.

Asgore exhaled sharply, then took two quick breaths. He pointed a gloved finger at a house the lines crossed three times. "Here, we live here! We must move quickly! Go, I'll call ahead to warn them!"

And then the King of Magical Monsters took a cell phone, a newer model that flipped out with a keyboard, out of a pouch he'd had hidden behind his cloak, and I just stood there for a second while he punched in a number on the pad. He looked up only long enough to notice me staring.

"What are you waiting for? Go! We won't fit in your car, we'll just meet you there! Please, hurry!"

I shook it off and crumbled the map together to shove it into my coat while Thomas ran around to the passenger side and got in; Mouse jumped back in through the broken window as I got in and tried the engine. Miracle of miracles, the old car actually started. I threw it into gear while buckling my seatbelt and we got moving.

I kept to backstreets and side roads, avoiding mains and expressways that would be clogged almost no matter the hour, and managed decent time by virtue of being the car most willing to be in an accident. With little to do but mentally prepare (and make damned sure I took my staff in with me this time), I glanced at Thomas, who kept his eyes on the road, looking around for threats along the way.

"You notice everything wrong with that scene?" I opened, keeping my own eyes out for stray traffic.

"Other than you leaving a ton of blood on the sidewalk while dark wizards are running around and not thinking twice about it?" Thomas asked nonchalantly.

I slammed on the brakes, and Thomas' hands shot up to the dashboard faster than I could blink to stop himself from exiting the car forcibly via the front windshield. "Tell me I didn't."

He shook his head as a car behind us blared its horn. "I sprayed it with ammonia. You'll have to tell me if that'll kill the magical connection between you and it."

I'd stalled my engine; I started it up again and got us moving. "I don't know chemistry. Does it break apart everything you'd need for a DNA test?"

"More or less."

"Stars and stones, I hope so. Thanks for the heart attack, by the way, nothing I love more than thinking somebody might have everything they need to try to magically burst my heart out of my chest. Put your seatbelt on."

He clicked it into place and Mouse chuffed. I spared the dog a glance and promised I'd stop short of killing us all on the road.

"Anyway, things were wrong. The street lamp that didn't go out? My car, between the two forces throwing around enough magical power to turn the engine into a bomb? The cell phone?!" I shook my head. "How the hell didn't every piece of technology in a thousand yards- how did we avoid a minor power outage? Nevermind," I muttered, realizing, "old power lines. But how'd they- he had a cell phone!"

"Newer model, too, I noticed that," Thomas agreed. "Harry, they're living embodiments of magic. Last I checked, I've got a demon living in my soul, and you didn't see me having trouble turning on a T.V. before I met you. Magic doesn't always have to mean anti-tech."

"But it wasn't just them!" I countered, "I threw around a ton of barely focused force out there, and that Dr. Death lady just ate it! She was wrapped in the stuff!"

"Couldn't that be it?" Thomas asked, leaning back in his chair and gripping it with both hands as I took a turn about twenty miles an hour faster than I should have. "The necromancer ate the magic before it destroyed everything? Or maybe she just has better control?"

I shook my head. "It's wrong. Magic and tech don't normally play nice, not at those volumes. That we're driving away from that wreck in a working car is a miracle."

"Then maybe we should enjoy it while we can, provided you don't wreck us on the way," Thomas said, then added in a gentler tone, "You're gripping the wheel with your left hand a little better than you used to. You seem to have a better handle on it when you're angry."

I looked down at it, then got my eyes back on the road. We didn't speak for the rest of the short trip.

The Golden Coast is the kind of place you expect royalty to live. My friends at the College, a group of teenage werewolves who call themselves the Alphas, have at least one member who had family on the "poorer" edge of the street, and their mansion could eat my small apartment building and have room for seconds. The house Asgore had pointed out was a little further down the way, and the huge gate had cameras around the perimeter.

I got a feeling low in my gut that wouldn't let go, thinking about the Alphas, about how I'd seen a mark near their campus territory, and how I hadn't thought to warn them the first time I'd seen the map, even in passing. I had even more friends about to get pulled into some problem above their weight class, and I swore to myself that I'd get them out of it before they were chewed up and spat out.

The feeling got worse as I turned into the Monsters' driveway, all pavement and cobblestone, with a four car garage competing with a huge room on opposite sides of the walkway up to the fifteen foot tall front door, creating a funnel you'd have to pass to get inside the huge building, just wide enough for a single car to get through if you were OK backing back out of it. I saw a figure standing in front of that great oak door, hands, or rather paws, held up as the Beetle inched forward.

Suddenly, a vertical circle of fire appeared in the air around her, and I slammed on the brakes again. The car lurched. My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel, and I fought down the urge to either gun the engine and back the hell out of there, or to ram her. So of course that was when my car's engine sputtered, coughed, and died. It broke me out of the moment long enough to hope that somehow, it was only because I'd dropped the clutch and stalled it again.

She wore a simple purple ankle-length dress with white trim, with that Delta Rune symbol shown proudly over her chest, and had those same droopy ears and knobby horns that Asgore had. Her white-furred paws were wreathed in fire, another reminder that I had a long way to go before I mastered the element, and a dozen little balls of sunshine danced around and above her, making it obvious she had complete control of wherever they went. She wore a deep scowl, and didn't blink while we approached.

This, clearly, was the Queen.

I slowly opened the car door and held up my hands, trying to emulate some schmuck pulled over for doing one-ten on the freeway and with just a little too much smoke in the car. Thomas held his own hands high while Mouse shuffled around in the back of the Beetle, probably having too much trouble getting back out the window again in the cramped space.

"State your business here," she said firmly, eyes blazing, and I looked over at Thomas. My best bet would be to take her off guard, make her think we weren't a threat. I don't have electricity in my house, it just doesn't agree with me, but that didn't stop places like Best Buy sending me appliance catalogues every other month. I'd gotten bored one day, and read over some of the things I'd never be able to own, and maybe that'd help me out here.

"We were in the neighborhood, just wondering if you were interested in buying a new vacuum cleaner," I offered, shuffling my left sleeve to free up my shield charm and stepping around to the front of the car. "Twice the suction, half the hassle, and it even plays loud music to cover up that nasty wind tunnel sound that just ruins the home atmosphere. Perfect for cleaning up ashes for those little oops moments when the little ones set the carpet on fire. Interested?"

She paused, lowering her hands a smidge, and the dancing flames held still a moment. "Is this the part where you offer to give a free demonstration of this carpet cleaning product, perhaps by offering to clean up the whole house?"

I blinked, then looked up at the house. Mansion. House that eats mansions. "I mean, I wasn't planning on doing anything else this week, so…"

She lowered her paws, and the flame around them went out. The dancing flames did little twirls, but they kept moving around behind her. I noticed Thomas' hands lower out of the corner of my eye, and I lowered mine to mimic him. "I was told to expect company to, how did he say it," she paused, lowering her voice, "'defend the honor of our home against a possible intrusion or invasion of a force of the dead, lest further harm befall our people.'" She squinted at us and her scowl deepened. "Does that make you the company, or the harm?"

"The first one," I said hurriedly. "Unless you think vacuum salesmen should be lit on fire which, let's be honest, I'd completely understand."

"Bork!" Mouse called, but the sound was muffled, like he had the morning paper in his mouth. I looked down at him, then did a double take at the "stick" he'd grabbed, then back at the shattered window of my car.

Mouse had somehow managed to get my six foot tall staff and himself through the car's back window despite the enclosed space and twisting movements he'd have had to do, and he'd done it quickly and quietly.

"Ruphf," He concluded.

The fires around the Monster Queen died out as she took in my massive dog's wagging tail, and she nodded. "You fit the description he gave about you. Quickly, come inside; I will hold the door here against further dangers, though whether any will try our might head on remains to be seen. The others are waiting inside, and I expect some will enjoy the opportunity to finally meet you."

Great. My reputation precedes me. Normally that's a bad thing.

I didn't bother warning her not to invite strangers inside in the future, seeing as I might still be considered one of those strangers and didn't want to see the broad side of those fire orbs any time soon. I reached down and Mouse relinquished my staff, and Thomas' hand retreated from the inside of his jacket. I hadn't seen him move, but then, the only other person I'd seen move that quickly with a knife was Mob Boss Marcone, card carrying vanilla human, so it figured that Thomas was at least as fast.

She didn't bother watching us after we'd passed her. I got the feeling she trusted quickly, but that wasn't always a good thing when you're dealing with Chicago's underbelly, magical or otherwise.

The entryway was grand, with a staircase leading up to a second floor balcony just to the right inside the entryway. There were three doorways to the left, only the middle doorway actually having a physical door, and one more doorway to the right up three tiled stairs under the grand staircase. Further in, the entryway dead-ended in a waiting room with a baby grand piano and a sitting area. I couldn't see much of the second floor from the entrance, other than a deformed lamp and an easy chair.

I felt the new security wards Asgore had told us about wash over me as I passed through the entrance, and gulped; if I hadn't been invited in, I could imagine the kinds of nasty things wards that strong could do. My own wards were designed to turn demons to ash using energy borrowed from power lines that ran close to my house, and these felt about as strong, maybe stronger. Thomas blinked. He was less sensitive, but even he could feel the power as we entered. I thought about extending my wizard's senses to get a better feel for the home without opening my Sight, maybe see what we were up against.

"MS. QUEEN TORIEL!" A voice, one I immediately associated with old memories of Skeletor from back when I was young and could still watch TV, cried out from one of the left doorways. "YOUR DIRECTIONS ON THE BUTTERSCOTCH CINNAMON PIE HAVE LED US TO PERFECT RESULTS! YOU WERE RIGHT! FOLLOWING A RECIPE CAN SOMETIMES MAKE COOKING A LITTLE EASIER TO MANAGE! SOMETIMES! IF YOU'RE INTO THAT KIND OF THING!"

From the farthest doorway came Skeletor's thinner cousin, a tall-faced skeleton wearing a pink apron with frills, oversized oven mitts, and some kind of red cape with shoulder pads the size of basketballs. His eyes had little floating dots of white that reminded me of Bob's orange flame eyes. He was holding a large pie, looked like pumpkin flavor, and the wonderful smell clashed in my mind with the normal decay and death I normally associate with the walking dead. I just held up my left arm, caught between bemused and ready to spring into action to fight the skeleton maid. Skeleton maid. I couldn't be sure whether it was a good thing or bad thing in my life that it didn't rank very high on my list of weird happenings even just this week.

"OH!" The skeleton yelled, not bothering to change to an indoor voice now that we were actually in the same room, "GUESTS! WONDERFUL! COME IN, WE HAVE PIE!"

The skeleton balanced the pie in his left hand and made to take my outstretched arm in his own like a prom date, presumably so that we'd gallivant merrily into the next room, but I focused my will into my shield. The skeleton's arm slid off and away, and he managed to squint with his eye sockets, the bone knitting inwards in a manner I'd find creepy anywhere else, his forced bony smile turning a little as he poked my shield with his open mitt.

"WOWIE! THAT'S A HECK OF A SHIELD YOU'VE GOT THERE!" He shouted, "DID YOU LEARN THAT FROM UNDYNE? SHE'S A REMARKABLE TEACHER, ISN'T SHE?!"

"Woah, there, pal," I shuffled around to his side as he started trying to sidestep my nearly-invisible blue shield, trying to get a better look at it. "Getting a little close for comfort, especially swinging around a hot pie. You wanna give me some space? And maybe use an indoor voice?"

"THIS IS MY INDOOR VOICE, ACTUALLY!" He placed his free hand over his aproned chest, puffing it out and leaning back like a socialite just dying to share that juicy tidbit of gossip. "DID YOU KNOW THAT METTATON, THE METTATON, TOLD ME I HAVE ONE OF THE MOST STRIKING VOICES HE'D EVER HEARD? THE KIND THAT VOICE ACTORS ASPIRE TO EVENTUALLY REACH!"

"Sure thing there, Skeletor," I offered, trying not to be backed against a corner while Thomas just watched the whole debacle happen. I gestured at the skeleton, but Thomas gave me that little wave that means, "Yeah, no, I'll pass, thanks."

Mouse, on the other hand, chuffed to the rescue.

Skeletor heard the sound and turned slowly to find my mega-dog's tongue lolling out.

"AH! A ROYAL GUARD APPROACHES!" He bowed grandly to the Foo Dog, holding up the pie tin level like a professional server. "HOW GOES THE WATCH, DEAR FRIEND, ON THIS MOST WONDERFUL NIGHT?"

"Chuff," Mouse chuffed, then twisted closed his mouth and twisted his head slightly to the side.

"BUT OF COURSE!" Skeletor put a hand to his mouth. "MY DEAREST APOLOGIES, I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE OVERBEARING! THOUGH IF HE WARRANTS A PERSONAL GUARD-!" Skeletor bowed a second time, this time in my direction. "A ROYAL GUEST WARRANTS A ROYAL DINNER, AND A ROYAL DINNER A ROYAL GUEST SHOULD HAVE! COME!" He pointed a finger skyward. "WE FLY! TO THE KITCHEN!"

Skeletor turned on his heel, cackled madly, and then strode back the way he'd come.

I looked at Thomas.

Thomas looked at me.

I tapped my staff on the ground twice, took a deep breath, centered myself, and followed the skeleton deeper into the house of horrors.

We didn't go very far. The kitchen wasn't twenty feet from the entryway, a huge room with two stovetops on a center island counter and a fridge larger than a pair of vending machines set into the wall just left of the entrance. On the other side of the fridge was a closed glass door, and through it what appeared to be a great dining room. To the right of the entrance was the open pantry door, though I hadn't really realized that a pantry was supposed to be the size of my bedroom and stocked like a supermarket before I'd seen it. The back half of the room, beyond a smaller dining table that looked like it got more use than the huge one the next room over, revealed a great series of glass windows to a huge backyard with plenty of hedges and some kind of jungle gym playset I figured would be more at home in a park than an oversized backyard. Some of the grass had been torn up in square sections I guessed were going to be converted to garden space.

Inside the dining half of the huge kitchen, a small child with medium-length brown hair wearing blue jeans and a green T-shirt with yellow stripes was seated at the table, spinning a pencil in their left hand, their face mostly covered by their right hand, which their face was propped up in. I couldn't tell whether it was a boy or girl, and after screwing up with Undyne, I wasn't about to guess. Skeletor had already taken out a butter knife from one of the room's numerous drawers and was cutting the pie into perfectly symmetrical slices.

"WOULD YOU LIKE A SLICE OF PIE BEFORE DINNER, HUMANS?" Skeletor asked, totally focused on cutting the pie juuuust right.

"...I just realized something," I said to noone in particular, dropping my staff into the crook of my right arm so I could rub my eyes. "Morty's spirit pals warned us that there were 'skeletons not raised by mortal hands' around the Golden Coast, not that there were necromancers. Skeletor here is probably what was confusing them. There's no necromancer here. Probably never was." I sighed deeply, tired all at once. Too many exciting events, one right after another, and I felt old. Old and frustrated.

"You alright, Harry?" Thomas asked, stepping up on my left side.

I shook my head. "Not really," I sighed. " I'm tired, exhausted even-"

"would you say you had a weariness in your bones?" a deep, quiet, cheerful voice asked from the pantry, and my eyes shot up, wide open, to find a shorter grinning skeleton staring back at me. His eye sockets were deep, pitch black around little dots of white, and with a lurch, I felt the beginnings of a Soul Gaze.

A Wizard's Sight shows them the truth of the world, but it's deeper than that. I've tried to describe what exactly we see, but it doesn't encompass the full nature of the beast, doesn't really explain how deeply we're able to see through and past the superficial coverings of the world to what really lies underneath. It doesn't just cover what's there now, either; it opens your senses to take in the world as it really is, was, or could be. When a Wizard Sees something, it's burned into their memory permanently, the vision never fading with time or any amount of alcohol, no matter how beautiful or terrifying the Sight.

A Soul Gaze is all of that, except all it takes is a few uninterrupted seconds of looking into another person's eyes. From the outside, it doesn't even look like much.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and even vanilla humans can feel the depth when they look into each other's eyes. Countless poets and writers over the millennia have tried to put into words what they've found, and they only scratch the surface.

Normally, I could look into a monster's eyes without fear of a Soul Gaze. True vampires, the Fey, all the nasties that go bump in the night? They don't have souls. Some could argue they don't have free will beyond what their instincts push them to do.

I'd forgotten for a moment that these new Monsters, the refugees from the Underground, had souls. And now I'd found myself staring into one.

I found myself standing in a golden hall that wouldn't be out of place in some old world monastery's path to the most sacred inner temple, with sunlight streaming in from some of the windows spaced evenly between huge golden pillars reaching up to the high ceiling. Except everything was muted, faded, more piss yellow than lustrous gold, and the air was hazy, choking me with some kind of dust I realized represented countless dead over an untold number of years.

The windows, I Saw, held faded scenes, memories of lifetimes past: a snowball fight between several monsters on the edge of a town, their merriment somehow out of place; a dimly lit bar with a spirit of living fire wearing a tuxedo serving a dog wearing armor while several more played cards nearby, focusing so intently on their game; an edge of a waterfall where a yellow, lizard-like creature leaned dangerously close to the edge, looking into the depths of an unspeakably deep fall; a lab, so deeply buried, blueprints lining the walls and desks, the lights long since burned out, with old machines broken down and forgotten…

I was moving forward, seeing all these things with my eyes watering from the dust, when I realized that all the characters in the scenes were suddenly looking at me, staring into my eyes like a creepy painting you'd find in an old, forgotten castle. They were watching, seeing, quietly cataloging everything in the haze. They were seeing more about me than I could ever know about them.

Down the center of the hall stood the skeleton himself, the comic Sans. He wasn't standing tall, wasn't proud or even all there. He was staring between his feet, one wearing an old slipper, the other a worn out sneaker, never having found their companions, shivering in his white undershirt and blue overcoat. He was bent over with his hands in his pockets, hunched, holding the weight of all the dust in the air and the muted, unkempt state of the whole underground on his shoulders, knowing it was somehow all his fault.

There was a red line across his white shirt, like he'd been cut deeply, and a red substance welled up as he breathed. He took a bottle out of his pocket, labeled Ketchup, and took a deep swig of the spiked substance. The line of red spread, only a touch, and he put the bottle away.

Behind him I saw the end of the hallway, and I tried to understand precisely what it meant.

I knew what it was. It's part of a Soul Gaze to understand the majority of what you see, even if you're missing the context behind it. It was a Void, an endless void of nothingness, pushing forwards, slowly enveloping the walls, the infinitely high ceiling, the very air as it moved forward, millimeter by agonizing millimeter. The darkness was so deep, light almost bent towards it before fading to nothing.

Just behind Sans was a wooden door, sitting in a standalone frame in the middle of the hallway, locked. Sans himself, I realized, was holding the key.

He looked up at me, those deep, unfeeling, empty eye sockets, and I knew he Saw me exactly as deeply as I Saw him. When you enter a Soul Gaze, it's a two way street, and neither of you will ever forget what you Saw.

And Sans knew it.

There was a flicker, and little white flames, just like those Papyrus, the skeleton I'd been calling Skeletor, blinked to life in his eyes. The muted gold brightened, just barely, as he stood a little taller to meet me. He took his left hand out of his pocket and held it out to me, the forced skeleton's smile on his face turning up ever so slightly as his fingers flared.

Dozens of floating skulls, shaped like wolf's skulls but split up the middle, tore themselves into existence, filling up like a wall of guardians alongside Sans, between me and the abyss, and their left eyes all flared to life. Their mouths opened, a bright light building inside them, and I could do nothing but stand there as they all fired beams of power so intense they tore me apart.

And then it was over, and I was standing back next to Thomas in the kitchen.

Sans' eye sockets went wide, and he raised his left hand, pointing it at me just as I'd Seen in the Soul Gaze.