I'm glad, Major Journa. I'm really glad. I'm glad to see that you're adjusting so well to everything that's happened.

It's strange. I don't think I've seen this one before. Or if I have, then it's been a long, long time since I've seen it.

Tell me, Major. Tell me… Does it hurt? Can you feel it, even now? If only I could read your mind, perhaps I'd know for sure. If only I could speak with you.

But that's fine. I'm fine like this. It shouldn't be long, anyway. Something will happen soon. Something will change. And when it does, I won't have to suffer anymore.

"God…" Grandt groaned. "That was a long hallway…"

"Are you tired, Grandt?" Toriel asked, looking concerned. "Do you need to rest for a moment?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I climbed Mt. Ebott, after all. I can handle a hallway."

"You are certain?"

"Yeah, of course." Grandt breathed in a bit deeper than normal. "I should be fine. Don't worry about me."

He stopped for a moment, and he chuckled. "Besides, I still have more puzzles to solve, right? Wouldn't be able to do that if I just keeled over right here."

Toriel smiled. "Ah, yes. More puzzles to 'solve.'"

"Exactly." Grandt smirked. Then he looked around the room. "So," he said, "where are we, now?"

"A sort of… rest stop, I suppose?" Toriel said. "Yes, that is the best word for it. There are no puzzles in this room. It is more a place to sit down and relax for a spell."

Grandt stepped throughout the room. The floor was littered with red and orange leaves. They'd been gathered into several piles, and he could see that a few of them were rustling. Was it from the wind, perhaps? Or maybe there were monsters inside the piles, waiting to jump out at any moment!

He smiled at the thought. It was a silly thought, like all those times Frisk had tried to cook for him on his birthday. Sure, she was a smart girl, but she wasn't a great cook, and she knew it. She always froze up whenever a dish called for butter, too, even though she ate through dairy products like there was no tomorrow. He guessed Frisk was just a weird kid, sometimes, but he didn't love her any less for it.

He'd have to make her something when he got out of here. Something nice. Probably something sweet, knowing her tastes. It was a grandfather's job to spoil his grandchildren from time to time.

Then Grandt turned his attention back to the room – to the brick walls, to the leaves, to the sudden chill that ran along his uncovered face.

"It's nice," he said. "Quiet. It's a bit cold, though."

Toriel chuckled. "I suppose so. Do you want to know why?"

Grandt nodded, and Toriel pointed up to the ceiling. He turned his gaze upward. Then his breath caught in his throat, and he could only stare in pure, undiluted awe.

"Is that what I think it is…?" he asked. His voice had become quiet.

Toriel nodded. "Yes," she said. "Moonlight."

It streamed brilliantly through a hole in the center of the ceiling. It was not a large hole, of course, but it was large enough that someone could clearly see what lay on the other side. The light streamed down through it, brightening the chamber in a way that no lamp ever could.

"We could not bring ourselves to cover it up." Toriel said. "It is not large enough for a person to fall through, but leaves and seeds often get blown down here."

Grandt didn't turn his eyes away. "What about snow?"

"It is too warm down here for snow. It melts quickly." Toriel paused for a moment. "The water that is left behind, on the other hand… Well, we tend to use that in our puzzles."

"Really?"

"Yes. It is very useful."

They both stopped talking, then. Grandt and Toriel simply stared up – up at the ceiling, at the sky, at the full moon that hung in the air.

"I guess it stopped raining," he said after about a minute.

"A few hours ago, yes."

Grandt nodded. "It's strange," he said. "I never thought the moon would look so beautiful."

"Sometimes when I have much on my mind, I come here." Toriel reached up with one hand, as if she wanted to touch the sky. "I lay back in those leaves. I stare up at the sky, and I think of what the surface must be like, now." A pause. "Is it beautiful? Is it diseased?"

"It's not diseased," Grandt replied. "We still have flowers."

And Toriel's expression shifted completely. The wistful look in her eyes faded. She smiled softly, as though Grandt had said something truly wonderful.

"What kinds of flowers?" she asked.

"Many kinds. Roses, lilacs… All kinds of flowers, really. We've got a huge bed of those golden flowers – you know which ones I'm talking about, right?"

"Yes."

"Yeah. We've got a huge bed of those sitting in the middle of our village."

Toriel was quiet again. "… it sounds lovely."

"It is. It really is." Grandt tore his eyes away from the moon and looked down at the ground. "Lately, though… Well, I haven't really been that much of a fan of 'em."

"Why not?"

"A few reasons," Grandt said. "A lot of reasons."

"I see."

"Yeah." Grandt sighed. "It's weird. I guess when you see something every day, you don't really think about it all that much. It's just… It's just there."

"Like those flowers?"

"Like the moon." Grandt looked back up at the hole in the ceiling, at the bright light shining back. "It's a beautiful night," he said. "I only wish I could see more of it."

Toriel nodded. "Yes. Me, too."

Silence.

Grandt looked over at Toriel. "Can you…?" He paused for a moment and considered his words. "Can you see the sunrise through here?"

"Not usually," Toriel replied, and she winced a bit when she saw his shoulders drop. "But," she added quickly, "the sunset is absolutely lovely! I come by here, sometimes, just to see it for myself."

Grandt nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm sure it is."

"Yes."

Silence fell again, but this time there was something a bit more awkward behind it. Something a bit more uncomfortable.

Then Grandt turned his gaze back toward the hole in the ceiling. "Yeah," he repeated. "I…" And then he froze, suddenly. His breath caught in his throat and his heart turned to ice in his chest.

"Toriel!" he said. "Do you… Do you see that?!"

Because against the moon, he swore he could see something – or someone, perhaps? It was a darkish figure, but parts of it seemed to shine with an almost unnatural light. He couldn't make out what parts they must have been, given that it looked like it was far away. He couldn't even tell if it was human or if it could see him.

Grandt looked over at Toriel. "Do you see that?!" he said again. It was a bit more frantic this time.

After all, if there were someone outside the mountain, he could cry out to them, right? He could ask them for…

… for what, exactly? For help? No, he couldn't ask for that. He couldn't make someone else climb down with him. And if it were Kira or Dyse, he'd definitely not want to ask that. Especially not if it were Kira or Dyse.

"Do I see what, Grandt?" Toriel's voice said. It sounded distant, and Grandt couldn't tear his eyes away from the silhouette.

But if it's one of them, he thought, then I can say something! I can say… I-I can tell them about everything that's happened! I can give my…

His what? His last words?

No, no! That's not… That's not right. I promised I'd leave this mountain, didn't I? I can't second-guess myself, not now! So… So I–

Grandt took a step forward. It didn't get him closer to the hole, but he didn't care. "Hey! Hey, who's out there?! Is anyone out there?!"

The silhouette didn't answer. But it turned a bit, and Grandt could see that its eyes – were they its eyes? No, they couldn't be – looked like they were a bright, unnatural sort of white. They stood out against the darkness, cutting through it like a pair of moons. It was like…

Like the skeletons' eyes, right? It's like them. Bright. Empty.

He choked and stepped back, suddenly pressing his hand against his throat defensively. He couldn't hear his throat crack, but he could feel the blood flowing between Sans's fingers. He could hear himself choking and drowning in his own blood again. He could feel his charred, burnt heart.

It won't go away, he thought again, unable to get his mind off the pain and fear and hopelessness. It will never go away. They'll forget it, you know. You'll never forget it.

But still, he bit down on the inside of his mouth, right next to his scar. The silhouette seemed closer, somehow, as though it were peering into the hole, and the eye-like lights were now even wider than before. "Wh-Who's there?! Come on! I can see you! Who's–?!"

He was suddenly cut off when Toriel placed a hand on his shoulder. Grandt blinked once, twice, and then he looked over at her.

She simply stared at him for a moment, and then she slowly shook her head.

Grandt looked down, dejected. "You didn't see it, did you?"

"No." A pause. "I am sorry. I–"

"No, it's not your fault." Grandt breathed in slowly, and then he let it all out as a long sigh. "I just… I must've… I guess I'm not really…" The words poured out of his mouth without any kind of rhyme or reason. He really didn't know what to say. In the end, there was nothing he could say.

He shouldn't have gotten so hopeful. It was probably just a branch. Or maybe it was some kind of animal. Mt. Ebott had a few animals that could have made a silhouette like that, maybe. Or perhaps he was just going insane from dying so much. That was always a possibility, too, he supposed.

What was he supposed to say? What could he say, really? After he'd just gone out of his way to comfort Toriel, he'd started screaming at shadows. That wasn't right. Or was it? It was getting harder and harder to tell what was real and what was false.

"I need to calm down," he said. "I need to just… I need to just calm down for a moment." He shook his head. "I keep thinking about this stuff too much. There's nothing good in it."

"Why do you say that?" Toriel asked. She stepped forward a bit. Grandt could hear the leaves crunch beneath her feet.

Grandt bit down near his scar again before he answered. "Because it's driving me insane," he said. "I can't stop thinking about it! About the surface, and about everyone there. I just…" He trailed off and shook his head. "I don't want to obsess over it like this. I shouldn't. I should just focus on solving puzzles and getting out of here."

Toriel smiled wryly. "'Solving' puzzles?"

"Yeah, that." Grandt chuckled a bit. "I mean… I don't know. I just want to get through here without having to think too much about all of this."

"I understand," Toriel said. "Believe me. I understand what you mean."

He knew she did. She'd probably seen all those children scream at the hole in the ceiling, begging for someone to pass in front of it. Hoping for someone to pass in front of it. He wondered how many of them had hallucinated someone up there like him, provided that the strange figure had been a hallucination at all. (It probably was, though, given that Toriel hadn't seen it.)

"Maybe we should leave," he said a moment later. Then he ran a hand over his beard. "I don't want to see the sky again until I'm outside the mountain."

Toriel stared at him for a moment, as though she were contemplating his words. And then she smiled again. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea." She paused. "Besides, we are nearly through this section of the Ruins. There is no sense in stopping now."

Grandt grinned. "You just want to see me solve more puzzles, don't you?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny your theory."

He snorted. "Right, right… Taking the coward's way out."

Toriel simply grinned.

"Well, then…" He turned to a nearby doorway and lifted a finger. "That's the way forward, right? Lead us onward."

"Very well." Toriel stepped over to the exit and looked back at him. "Let us see how well you can 'solve' what comes next."

So once again, the two of them left for the next chamber of the Ruins. But as they walked away, Grandt could have sworn that he saw that silhouette again out of the corner of his eye.

It was a beautiful evening. The full moon hung in the sky so graciously, and the disciple couldn't help but smile at the way it lit up the night. His smiles were all the same smile, just as the moon was always the same moon. His eyes shined in the darkness, allowing him to see his surroundings with ease.

Beautiful as always, he thought. Nights like this were made for dreams.

But he couldn't sleep. Not because he was frightened, of course, because nothing scared the disciple. No, he was too anxious to sleep, to allow himself the comfort of unconscious dreams. His hand kept slipping into his pocket, onto his phone, and checking it endlessly.

"Patience," he told his hand. "Patience."

Caldwell will call soon enough. He is not one to wait. Not where I am concerned.

And he was a very, very patient man – the sort of man whose patience allowed for him to become a disciple. The sort of man who could stand in the rain and watch another man take shelter. But of course, rain was nothing, in the end. It was just water, and while water could damage stories, it would not damage him. Rain was nothing compared to the test of time.

The disciple leaned up against a rock and checked his phone again. It was nearly three in the morning, and Caldwell had heard nothing. No, of course not. He would wait for Blight to give it a proper announcement. It was only fair, he supposed, because otherwise there was no way to know whether that stupid old man would truly be willing to return to this place.

But what a place it was. He could see Ebott from his perch: rotting buildings and wasted materials. It was a village built for almost a hundred people, but it only housed four. What a waste. At least, it was a waste now. But that would not last forever. In only a few days, that village would become more valuable to him than any in Idyllia, and he felt his smile grow a bit at the idea.

It grew with the moon. It lived and died with the moon. Because after all, what was he if not the moon in human form? The lune of heaven, born for one reason and one reason alone. And he would fulfill it, of course. He was so close now.

So very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very close.

Something stirred within him, and he chuckled as he touched his chest. "Don't fret," he said. "It won't be long."

And then – as if to pierce the night's tranquility – he suddenly heard a shout come from somewhere nearby. "Hey! Hey, who's out there?! Is anyone out there?!"

The disciple stiffened. He recognized the voice, somewhat, but he couldn't quite place it. Where had he heard it before? Was it from the village, or was it from somewhere else entirely?

He looked around for a moment. Then he noticed something nearby – a hole in the side of the mountain, heading somewhere he could not see. Of course, it must have been an animal's burrow or something equally innocuous, but something told him otherwise. He looked a bit closer.

"Well, now…" he said, staring deep into it. The moon was at his back. "What is this?"

He could see something inside. It was… brick, perhaps? But the bricks were purple.

How strange. But then… Who is that in the middle?

The cry came again. It was old and somewhat deep, but there was little power behind it this time. It seemed as though the shouter had lost his nerve. "Wh-Who's there?! Come on! I can see you! Who's–?!"

And yet, the disciple knew this man. He could not see his face clearly because he was too far away, but he'd seen him before. First over a decade ago, and then so recently in the village.

Yes, that's right.

His smile slid up his face until it became like a crescent moon – bright and wide and sharp. His teeth didn't shine like his eyes did, but that hardly mattered. His eyes had widened until they were like a pair of moons.

"Major Grandt Journa…" He could feel the words slide over his tongue, over his teeth, over his everything. His fingers crackled with magic.

And who is that with you, Major?

Not that gunner from the village of course, nor did it look like that drunkard. No, it was taller than them, and stranger as well. It was not a beast, but it resembled one from what he could see of it in the darkness. It seemed as though it could not see him, given that its eyes never once left the major's face. It bore an expression of… fear, was it? Or perhaps concern? Regardless, it was strange how such a bestial creature could feel – or at very least, express – emotions at all.

Then the disciple realized exactly what it was. His smile couldn't get any wider, so instead he simply opted to let out a quiet laugh.

Strange company you keep, Major! Very strange company. And yet, you certainly know how to make things interesting, don't you? Very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very interesting.

He stepped away from that spot. Of course, normally he would have cared that the major had seen him, but why bother? It was so dark that only the disciple's eyes could be seen. Even if that were not the case, the mountain was protected by such a powerful barrier that nothing could leave. And of course, the disciple knew that the major was a Journa, and an old one, at that. Like all Journas, his heart would soon shatter, and he would die. What difference did it make that the major had seen him? Had seen a part of him? There was no scenario in which it mattered at all.

And yet, the fact that the disciple had seen the major… That was a different matter entirely. Ebott's meager population of four had decreased by one. Now all that remained were Frisk Journa, Kira Volver, and Dyson Welles. A child, a gunner, and a drunkard. They would be easy pickings if he were so willing, and yet…

He sighed and leaned back. His smile dropped away, becoming replaced by a more neutral expression. But there would be no true purpose in that. Certainly, it could provide me with some entertainment, but then what?

He could possibly justify killing the drunkard and the gunner, but the girl was a valuable bargaining chip. She was too important for him to let her die right now, even if he was fully willing to kill her if the situation called for it. But then again, killing anyone in the village would cause him problems. It would leave the village completely empty and unguarded.

Blight's forces would be able to take Ebott without any trouble whatsoever, and that would only prove to be troublesome in the future. They needed something to stand against them, even if it was only a pair of stupid adults and one very stupid child. They would almost certainly become paranoid, otherwise. They would believe the lack of resistance to be some sort of trap. Of course, they could believe that those three had long since left the village – well, those four, counting the major –, but he was not willing to take risks.

Not to mention that if the disciple made too much of a spectacle – or any sort of spectacle at all, really –, then there was a possibility that the emperor would learn that he existed, and he couldn't possibly have that. He ran the risk of having to contend with Idyllia's generals before he was fully prepared to face them. Certainly, he could kill any one of them with ease, but if they all converged on his position… Well, that would be undesirable, to put it mildly.

The disciple then touched his chest, just above his SOUL. "And of course," he said, "if I die, then so does my dream."

But then there was the mountain, and that fascinated him to no end. In the village, he risked alerting the emperor to his position, but in the mountain, there would be no such risk. The emperor and his generals would not chase him therein. It would be simple to go inside and to sate his bloodlust. So very simple.

His fingers twitched a bit. Magic crackled on his fingertips, and he felt his eyes grow brighter and more moonlike. Yes. It would be so simple to–

The disciple then bit down harshly on his knuckle to bring himself back to reality. No, that will not do either, he thought.

Those who entered the mountain never left it. He would be trapped within, and he would certainly die down there. Not to mention that he had no way of knowing what sorts of beasts lay inside the mountain. He was powerful, yes, but he was not so arrogant to believe he was untouchable. If a human could kill him, then so could a monster.

So he let out a quiet sort of sigh, and then he allowed his smile return in a smaller state. No matter. That was fine. He could wait. He was a patient man, so of course he could wait. Disciples had to be patient.

His hand pulled his phone from his pocket. He checked it again, more out of habit this time than out of anxiety. Caldwell still had yet to respond. But that was fine. The disciple had other means of entertaining himself while he waited.

The disciple replaced his phone and reached into his bag, from which he pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. The silver flower on the cover reminded him so greatly of the moon above, and the black leather seemed to him to resemble the night sky.

He sat with his back pressed up against a dry rock and admired it further. The book had been difficult to acquire, but it had been so very, very worth it. Soon it would show him what he was always meant to see, and then…

And then, he thought, and his smile curved back into a crescent, I will fulfill our dreams at last.

AN: Hey, everyone. I'm back.

I can't pretend that I spent the last three months on this one chapter (because if I had, we'd already be out of the Ruins by now - or at least, we'd be damn close to it), but my workload simply hasn't allowed for it. I've either been too busy or too tired to sit down and write anything good, or at least passable by my standards. I'm hoping that this chapter will help me get back into the swing of things at least a little bit.

In any case, this is yet another character development chapter where absolutely nothing of relevance to the plot occurs. Also something about some weird mountain guy, but he's probably unimportant. That book's also unimportant. I wasted half the chapter on filler text.

Yep.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed, or even just read the story up to this point! Next time, Grandt and Toriel will continue their Ruins adventures, and I will absolutely get the update out by next Tuesday.