The End
Every end is a new beginning, every death is a window.
The appearance of the curse is naught but the turning of a page in the history of the world.
Some might find fault and despair at this unavoidable cycle of death and life, destruction and rebirth.
Yet, for those willing to look past this dark veil of despondency another truth of the world can be discerned. A truth that serves to encapsulate, at the same time, the frailty and strength of life itself.
No matter what, life will endure, life will do on and souls will flourish for all time.
If one sentence could describe The Kingdom of Ebott, it would be "tarnished splendor". Frisk huffed a small chuckle at the realization that they had actually found the place. Ever since leaving Arnvolt they had traveled by foot, then by horse, then foot again when a pack of hollows had set upon them in the dead of night. They had escaped but their trusty steed had not been so fortunate. After that they had simply strode on, into the mountains where the fabled kingdom of monsters was said to be, until, acting on some strange impulse, they had looked up, finding a large, opened gate with doors emblazoned with the same winged orb symbol that had been on Asriel's and Chara's robes, topped by a large sign that read "WELCOME TO EBOTT, HOME OF MONSTERS", almost looking like an entrance to some childish wonderland.
How long had they wandered? Time had lost all meaning for Frisk. With The Soulsever destroyed the only know way of curing the curse had disappeared as well. What use of time did one doomed to eventual hollowing have? The cruelty of it only doubled by the fact that no one ever knew exactly when hollowing would occur, only that having a purpose, something to live and strive for could delay it.
Soon enough, Frisk wouldn't even have that anymore.
As grandiose as Asriel's tales of his homeland had been, the state of Ebott left much to be desired. Whenever the curse appeared in a human settlement, life, even that untouched by the curse, would begin to die down. People would remain at the bedsides of their cursed family members instead of going to work, people would be afraid to venture out at night to revel for fear of being ambushed by a recently-turned hollow. Eventually, once fear and panic had reached a climax, those still in possession of their souls would riot, taking their fear and frustrations out on whoever and whatever they deemed the cause of their suffering in a flood of violence and blood that usually left said settlement in ruin.
Ebott hadn't reached that state yet, but the darkening decay of the curse was plain to see. Whole rows of once brightly colored and vibrant family domiciles now stood drab empty, doors barred, windows boarded up and colors fading in the sun without caretaker to maintain it.
As Frisk walked towards a domed, almost homely-looking castle in the distance, the slow degradation of life in Ebott also became evident. The streets of Ebott were wide and long, almost as if designed for a parade and the heavily turned and shuffled earth of the ground attested to that once, these streets had been vibrant, full of monsters.
Now, only a few could be seen. A red-haired fox-looking creature with a robe tucked tightly around them and face cast down brushed past Frisk without so much as a look. A large bear stood leaning against a wall, rubbing something on their wrist with a look of complete emptiness on their muzzled face and what looked like a white-furred dog clad in heavy plate mail stood guard at a street corner, sounding a strange whining noise that Frisk took to it crying quietly to itself.
Ebott was dying, that much was clear. The curse was uncaring in whom it took and how many lives it ruined.
As Frisk neared the castle, activity seemed to pick up a bit. A small building on the side with the sign "GRILLBY'S TAVERN" still seemed open. The smell of roasted meat and roars of jolly laughter echoed from the place, monsters living in denial no doubt, trying to forget and ignore the grim destiny settling upon the kingdom just outside.
Even here, at the heart of the kingdom, the decay was evident. Most shops stood empty, painting cracked and flaking off. A complete contrast, Frisk noticed, to the castle itself. The keep, though quite small by human standards, only having 3 spires in a triangular pattern probably able to fit in an area about the same size as sparring rings put together, almost seemed to radiate, as if functioning as a last beacon of light and hope to the beleaguered monsters. An ultimately vain effort yet for some it might just buy them a few more days, a little more time with their souls. For some, it might just make all the difference.
Frisk stepped up to the opened gates of the keep, finding, for the first time, a strong sign of defiance against the curse outside of the castle. A lone guard stood here, arms crossed, clad in a full-bodied suit of armor, tall, but not outright lanky, with a plume of scarlet red hair streaking from behind the helmet. The guard lowered its gaze as Frisk approached, looking them over with what they could only assume was scrutiny.
"What's your business here, human?" The guard asked bluntly.
Once, Frisk might have been taken aback at hearing a female voice coming from such an imposing figure, not many female knights around, but they had been torn for too long now, ever since leaving Arnvolt all Frisk had been able to feel was a forlorn urge to deliver... no, return what remained of THEM.
Frisk opened their mouth to answer but found that they couldn't, not could they tell exactly why. How long had it been since they had last eaten? Drunk or slept? They couldn't remember.
"Well? Spill the beans, already!" The guard insisted.
Closing their mouth with a sigh, Frisk reached into the pouch hanging at their side to retrieve their answer. They opened their palm to the guard, showing the 2 heart lockets they had taken from Chara's and Asriel's remains, one stained with dried blood, the other glittering with traces of dust.
The guard made no motion, didn't move an inch yet Frisk could tell the sight devastated her. It was if she... deflated, the iron will she radiated before completely vanished.
She stepped aside and motioned for Frisk to enter.
"King Asgore is inside the throne room" she flatly stated, with just there merest hint a shakiness in her voice.
Frisk entered quietly and as they left the entrance hall behind them a single sound echoed trough the corridors. The sound of a once stoic defender punching a wall in agony and despair.
The inside of the castle, what little Frisk saw of it at least, reminded them more of a Home than a seat of power. The stone walls were covered with brightly colored tapestry and where one would expect grandiose paintings of former and present rulers, one instead found humble pictures of a once happy family and glorious landscapes.
There was something heavy in the air, a pallid malaise as if not long ago the castle had been a warm, welcoming place and was now instead cold and left behind
The corridor from the entrance hall lead in a straight line and soon enough Frisk passed into the throne room, albeit the smallest one they had ever been in. Circular, with a stone dais in the middle upon which 2 humble thrones were located. The outer edges were lined with beautiful plant life and vegetation, obviously carefully and painstakingly maintained by what Frisk guesses was a large, broad-shouldered individual, back turned, watering a few of the plants.
Frisk stepped closer. The giant was humming a gentle tune, one they had the feeling they had heard before. They opened their mouth to voice their arrival – what was it the guard had called him? Asgore?
"Akhgor..." They tried but all that came was a croak.
"Hm? Is someone there?" The king nonetheless rumbled back and looked over his shoulder at them.
"Ah, forgive me, I didn't hear you enter. Just a minute and I will be right with you"
Frisk pondered the giant for a moment. He had a deep, rumbling voice that nonetheless spoke with warmth, someone that would protect those they loved with all they had.
Frisk hand clenched around the 2 lockets in the pouch. How were they going to tell him? Would it be better to simply turn around and leave? Blissful ignorance or devastating truth?
"There we go" Asgore said, putting down a watering can and nonchalantly wiping his dirt-stained paws on his cloak.
"Now, what can I help you with? We don't often get human visitors in Ebott" He stated with a warm smile.
A well-practiced but ultimately fake warm smile, Frisk realized. The king did a good job of keeping up his facade but not knowing where his children were had clearly been gnawing at him for quite some time; the fur beneath his eyes seemed a dark, the eyes themselves were slightly bloodshot and his clothes seemed oddly lose for someone who no doubt had them tailor made. All traits of someone who hadn't been sleeping or eating well for quite a while.
Not something that was about to change, Frisk realized.
"There's no reason to be nervous" Asgore suddenly said, pulling Frisk out of their thoughts "Please, take your time, I have lots to spare and talking to people helps take my mind of... eh, anyway" he said, scratching the back of his head with a nervous look.
"Ca-can I get you something? I'm not usually one to brag but I do make a decent cup of tea if you're inter rested"
Frisk tightened their grip on the necklaces and took a deep breath, this was probably going to hurt more than those agonizing few seconds after they had jumped off the church in Arnvolt... but it had to be done, Asriel and Frisk deserved closure and so did their parents.
Ever so slowly Frisk extended a closed hand towards the king who responded by tilting his head slightly to the side in interest "Golly, you're a curious one. What are you up to? Is this some kind of game?" he asked in good spirit.
Frisk exhaled... then slowly opened their hand, revealing the contents; the 2 lockets, once belonging to Asriel and Chara, to the king.
Frisk had almost wanted him to fly into a fury, to lash out at them in grief, to blame them for their deaths. It would have been so easy had he simply struck them down. A quick death and they would have been out there, reappearing at the nearest bonfire and ready to just put the whole horrid situation behind them.
But he didn't do that.
Instead, Frisk witnessed the slow, methodical unraveling of a once strong and proud individual. The sight of a father realizing he was no longer that.
His tired eyes seemed to go vacant, his shoulders sank, almost as if he collapsed in on himself. He slowly raised an arm towards Frisk.
"What... is that... where did you..." he said but there was no trace of curiosity or questioning, simply a last ditch effort of denial.
Frisk tried to say something but once again the words dried out in their mouth, becoming nothing more than a croak. Even if they could speak what could they even begin to do to comfort the grieving king?
He took a step forward, staggering and knees wobbly, as if he was about to pass out. Then another, and another.
Then, he fell. Down on his knees as his eyes started to water.
"Gorey? What is going on? Why are you-" A female, mother voice suddenly spoke. Frisk looked to their side, finding another goat-like monster standing in a doorway, arms full of yellow-crowned flowers.
Then she looked at Frisk hand and what laid in it. The flowers dropped to the floor, petals trailing and shifting in their air as the queen likewise realized what had happened to her children. Her paws moved to her mouth and her eyes widened in complete horror. The sight of someone pushed to the edge and then over in a matter of moments.
Frisk tried again, finally, desperately managing an almost non-existing "I'm sorry"
The sight of the necklaces almost seemed to burn Frisk. Without thought, Frisk turned their hand, dropping them down amongst the grass at their feet.
"NO!" Asgore wailed and scrambled forward almost maddeningly, tripping and tumbling, but as his paws closed on the necklaces, he went still, clutching them to his chest and curling up on the floor, sobbing and crying silently.
As he did, the sleeve on his right arm peeled back for just a moment, long enough for Frisk to get a view of something that threatened to shatter their already ailing mind.
There, on King Asgore's wrist; a dark circle that seemed to shimmer, as if freshly stamped there with a hot-iron.
Perhaps it was a mercy... soon enough the king would no longer be able to grieve for his lost children or anyone in fact. Perhaps in time, he would even forget about them.
'But that was out of their hands' Frisk thought as they turned to leave the throne room. Asriel's and Chara's story had closed its last chapter. Soon enough the same would happen for Frisk.
Outside, the sun was setting on Ebott in more ways than one. Long shadows were drawn over most of the buildings and the sky burned a dull orange.
Frisk took a deep breath of the surprisingly warm mountain air, weighing their decision to reveal Asriel and Chara's fate to their parents. No doubt they had sealed Ebott's fate, but perhaps the killing blow was better than the slow death. Without the pillars of strong leaders, no nation could stand and Ebott would be no different.
They spied a pair or armored dogs carrying a heavy, shaking crate between them. Plant vines snaked out of cracks in it and voices could be heard begging and threatening the guards to let them out.
"whelp, that went about as good as could be expected" a voice sounded from beside them. Frisk turned to it; sans the flower, with his usual grin, sticking up out of the ground.
"so what now? off to break more hearts? more adventures? whatever you do, i hope you won't mind lil' ol' me taggin' along, watchin' you all this time has been a blast!"
Frisk turned their gaze towards a mountain range in the far distance. What should they do know? They were still cursed, doomed to turn into a hollow soon enough. Continuing their old mercenary ways until that happened was an option... but they felt drained and tired... so terribly tired in both body and soul.
"gotta say, ya don't look so good, slugger" sans observed. They brought a hand to their face, finding it gaunt and think but whether it was from hollowing or simply from not having eaten anything in a long time they could not tell.
"oh, right, i guess you're hungry, huh? that's fine, i know this place close by, should still be open, the best mead-house in all of ebott!" sans explained, bouncing a bit on his stem.
"then again... i never really saw any of you go hollow and they do say it's quite a sight..."
a devilish grin began to form on the flower.
"guess that's what we'll do then. i'll stick with you until the light leaves your eyes then i'll probably ditch ya. the whole world is open for me and i got all the time i could ever-"
"Watch it! We got a loose one!" a voice suddenly called out.
Before Frisk could turn to look, one of the armored guards suddenly sidelined sans, diving at him and pulling him out of the ground in one smooth movement.
"he-hey! what gives!?" sans spluttered.
"Sorry citizen, but orders are that all hollows go to the dungeon. It's for your own safety" the monster guard explained, easily restraining the wildly struggling flower in his arms.
"WHAT? NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT! I'M SANS THE EXPLORER!" sans wailed, earning him nothing more than a simple "uh huh" from the guard. "FRISK! PLEASE! TELL THIS IMBECILE I'M WITH YOU! I DON'T WANNA SPEND AN ETERNITY INTHE CLINK!" the flower continued as the guard marched off with him.
Frisk watched the spectacle with an empty expression, observing as the guard turned a corner and disappeared, and hearing sans's screams grow dimmer and dimmer.
It was a cruel fate to be locked up as a hollow, but in truth, it was the only way. Hollows were immortal, killing them would only make them reappear somewhere else.
Frisk remembered hearing stories of a similar practice in many human kingdoms. It was said that far to the north, up in the maintains, a great asylum had been built around a bonfire. Those cursed or hollowed were shepherded there, away from the living, where, even if they died, they would reappear at a bonfire inside the asylum walls. Forever trapped, forever hungry and forever contained.
But perhaps that was the best way, Frisk surmised. At least human hollows lacked enough cognitive functions to despair at their fate... perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.
Frisk knew they were a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode into a ravening, soulless, flesh-eating hollow. The asylum would be a long trek but perhaps... just perhaps it would make for a fine final adventure.
Asriel had spoken at length about the worth of every life, a notion Chara had started to pick up as well. If just to honor them this last time, Frisk would nib this problem in bud. Lock themselves away before they hurt anyone in their hollowed state.
With a final intake of breath, Frisk set off. Exiting the gate of Ebott towards the far north. A sudden calm went over them, the fulfilling sense of having a purpose or a goal, along with a feeling that was far more common to them, the accompanying feeling of strength to see it all trough to the end.
Knowing that their friends could rest easy and that they did all they could in this life filled Frisk with Determination... for the last time.
Well, that's that then, the end of Frisk's journey.
Truth be told; the way this story unfolded actually didn't go according to plan at all. When I first started I aimed for a more minimalistic way of storytelling like they do it in Dark Souls, I even made a few attempts such as Frisk noticing that Arnvolt's walls seemed to have been breached from the inside in chapter 1, and the state of the barracks inside the walls in chapter 2.
Yet, most of the time I tried it, the story just felt lacking and non-descript instead of minimalistic to me. It's a surprisingly a lot harder to write like that than it looks.
Nevertheless, I am proud of how it went. Souls stories always end bittersweet; dark, yet with the knowledge that things just might work out somewhere down the road and that your effort might have been for a greater cause than you could even begin to understand.
So thanks for all the comments, favorites and the like! It's been a blast!
And who knows? The cycles are always turning. Maybe sometime, somewhere, we'll see what the next cycles' version of Frisk, Chara and Asriel are up to...?