Something pulsed suddenly and unexpectedly. Without warning, the darkness began to disperse. My eyes were open, my heart beating rapidly. I felt a power deep within me – a power that would not let me slip away. My body longed for unconsciousness, but my soul – it was refusing.

I leapt to my feet with a renewed energy, but a horrible sight greeted my eyes. Flowey was burning alive, a black, tarry substance dripping from his leaves. He was now completely engulfed in the fire. He'd uprooted himself from the ground in his struggle, rolling around on the floor and crying out in a blind panic.

I knew I needed to act fast and find a way to put out the fire. But there was nothing I could use – nothing the bandits had procured that could help to stifle the blaze. With no other available options, I started running as fast as I could towards one of the houses in the distance. Even though I'd witnessed them being looted by those thieves, it was my best bet.

The house to the furthest left was a peculiar specimen. The entire building was designed in the style of some sort of fish creature, the windows fashioned into a set of eyes and adorned with a long tail that rested alongside the body of the building. I had no time to remark on the oddness of its design – only that there might be something inside that could save Flowey. But my heart sank as I approached. The house was blackened and crumbling – it was practically falling to pieces. The building had suffered a fire of its own and had burnt down a long time ago. The 'eyes' drooped under the weight of the partially-collapsed roof, giving the place a strangely sombre appearance. The jaw-like door hung open, a trail of sooty footprints leading away from the entrance. Those bandits… they even looted this place too!

I ran forward undeterred, praying that I might find something of use. But at the same time, what could I hope to find in a burnt-out, ransacked old house?

I ground to a halt a few steps from the door. Tucked away next to the building's tail were a set of buckets, lined up in a row. Peering inside, I saw they were filled with either sand and water. Some of them were empty. I couldn't believe my eyes. These are fire buckets! I gasped, glancing at the burnt-out house before me. Perhaps the monster these buckets belonged to had been unable to use them when the fire broke out?

I snapped out of my musing – this was no time to formulate explanations. Bending down, I grabbed two of the buckets containing sand. I winced as I felt the strain on my injured arm – they were surprisingly heavy. Steeling myself, I ran back as fast as I could towards the fire.

Flowey was immersed in a sea of fire. He was still fighting against the blaze but he'd lost his strength, floundering ineffectively as the flames grew taller. His cries had died down, his voice too weak to hear over the crackle of the fire. Without any hesitation, I grabbed one of the buckets and hastily tipped the contents out on top of him, burying both him and the flames under a mound of sand. He kicked about wildly underneath the pile, desperate to free himself. Before long he burst out from sand that covered him – too quickly. I immediately grabbed the second bucket and poured it over him. There was no time to feel bad about it. It took him longer to shake himself free of the sand this time. He emerged, gasping for breath but unable to get up. He lay on the ground amongst the sand having expended the last of his strength, unmoving and scorched. But the flames were finally gone.

I ran back to the house and grabbed one of the buckets filled with water. When I returned, I stood over Flowey and, after a brief hesitation, poured the whole thing out on top of him. A cloud of steam rose off of him with a dreadful hiss. He struggled against the water but was too weak to cry out. Spluttering, he hacked up lumps of wet sand before suddenly going limp, laying perfectly still with eyes closed. He'd fallen unconscious.

I knelt down next to him. I was dismayed at what I saw – he looked absolutely awful. His yellow petals had all but burnt off completely, his little leaves blackened and half-disintegrated. His face was covered with dark scorch marks. It was a pitiful sight. But somehow, impossibly, he was still alive. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

He was still detached from the ground. I picked him up carefully, holding his charred frame in my hands. He was so light. A dull heat radiated off him. I knew I needed to find somewhere for him to rest. Looking around, I saw a path that veered off to the left of the burnt-out house. Still holding what was left of Flowey in my hands, I followed the path down and away from the carnage.

At the bottom of the slope, we stumbled across a small pool of water that separated us from a path on the other side. The water here was perfectly still and crystal clear. Gently, I lowered Flowey into the water – he was light enough to float on the surface. With no current, he lay there on his back – a blackened splotch in the middle of the shimmering pool. He reminded me of the bits of lifeless driftwood from the garbage dump. I sat down next to the water's edge, giving another deep sigh before looking up. It was a peaceful place – a refuge from the chaos of what we'd both just experienced. We were both safe, for now.

I flinched. I remembered the pain from the impact that'd nearly knocked me out – it had returned suddenly. I felt the power within me, the power that was keeping me awake, begin to trickle away. Before I knew what was happening, I'd blacked out.