Chapter 37

Dawn

If dreams could come true, then the sight of those two children, one monster, the other human, was the seed for the future, a symbol of hope between both races. For centuries after the war ended, when its legacy lived on whilst the memories faded, the question as to whether the two sides could ever coexist like before was the burning question for the ages.

Could humans be trusted to act fair around a species whom were inherently inferior?

Could monsters be trusted around a species whose life-force could exalt them to godhood?

It was unthinkable to believe that such peace was obtainable. That hundreds and thousands of living, intelligent beings could act upon the same principles and not have a single one step out from that thin line. They speculated that their return would amount to nothing but more violence, to another life of running and hiding just like in the Dark Ages.

However, maybe now, as they watched Frisk and Asriel – fingers interlocked – the future wasn't as dark as they had thought. Flesh and blood next to fur and magic. It was not one human child and one monster child, but two children. Their differences were cast aside, and they became not two people of different species, but two people of the same planet.

Emperor Maxus gingerly stepped over, eyeing the boy who bore a remarkable resemblance to King Asgore and Queen Toriel. One eyebrow was raised so high it strained the muscles in his forehead. "…Advisor? Is that you?" he asked.

The soppy terrain muted Brute's hefty stomps as he closed the distance. His head cocked to one side, index finger scratching it. "Where Advisor gone?" he wondered. Asriel felt a flush, his cheeks swelled into a shade of pink as the hulking creature loomed over him; he wasn't the one atop his head no more. Those beady eyes begged the answer to many questions. "What this hairy thing?"

Asriel's parents marched over. "Excuse me," the mother, taking hold of her son, scolded the monster twice her size. "But this hairy thing is our son."

Her commanding attitude – aided by her lifelong vocation – made Brute flinch like one of the many unruly schoolkids in her class. While hard on the outside, her insides melted as those same hands which held her son when he was but a day old felt him once more. Just by having Mom and Dad around, Asriel, the little prince, never felt safer.

Juhi was beside Maxus, as amazed as he was. "The resemblance is remarkable," he commented.

A quiet giggle tickled Asriel's throat. "It's okay… Mom," he said. Jeez, to think he could call Toriel Mom again, not to mention King Asgore became Dad. "It's a long story, Brute, but... the advisor hasn't gone anywhere. I'm the advisor." Hesitation made his lips go numb. "I was that flower all along."

Everyone gazed, beset with baffled silence; most notably his parents. Frisk excluded.

"Then why didn't you tell us?" Asgore asked, lowering himself on one knee. Deep down, his wife and himself still believed their son the innocent, misunderstood youth who always kept to himself, hardly socialised with others much, and couldn't hurt a fly even if the world depended on it.

Asriel pondered. What was he to say? I did… once. The first time. But then you forgot after I went back and did everything all over again, and… did things…

His jaw hung open. No words came out.

"I guess…" King Asgore, noticing Asriel's hesitation, spoke softly. He rubbed his thumb against his son's cheek, and said, "I guess it's not important now. You're here and that's all that matters."

Asriel fought through his insecurities to look up at his father, nearly jumping out his skin upon noticing Papyrus's empty peepers peering over his broad shoulder. He resembled a child – the very one whom the boy had the most fun with during those dark days. Those ame eyes which heralded the Flowey Fan Club.

"Mini Asgore…" the skeleton whispered the same way a birdwatcher would upon sighting the rarest breed. He narrowed the breadth between his mouth and Asgore's ear. "You must've been a beautiful baby, Your Majesty."

As Undyne found her eyepatch and slung it over her bad eye, her other eyed the kid. Asriel Dreemurr was a tale shared to her on a handful of occasions, only after the most gruelling of training sessions and during the warmest heart-to-hearts at home, around the table, with cups of golden flower tea and a stray marshmallow caught in the King's facial fuzz. It was Asriel's demise which ignited the Underground's wrath and the founding of the Royal Guard, in turn fuelling her desire for vengeance upon humanity – a desire born from her king and instilled into her.

"This is your kid…? He looks just like you," she said, having only seem him in the fading gloss of old photographs. Had this kid never died, Undyne struggled to think where she'd be, or what kind of person she'd have developed into without her king's resolve. With such a soft semblance to his parents, she concluded right there that she already liked this boy. "A little scrawny, a few feet off, but I can already see you becoming your dad."

Throughout all his smattered life, the golden flower was the entity which haunted Sans the most. Vague images, made dull through time, stuck to the walls inside his skull, pestering him now as he prodded and poked, trying to get a clear memory out. He succeeded in rooting out more pictures; a thousand images which each told a single sentence of a thousand stories; too contrived to piece together. But in so many, he found the grinning, chortling flower. He was either catching a glimpse of petals darting into the soil, staring him down, or confronting him directly. Could it be true? Could this child be him, who made his life a misery for so long?

Asriel turned to and fro, encapsulated in the kind-hearted gazes and friendly remarks by his family and their friends. Then, from out the corner of his eye, he spotted San's dot pupils and toothy grin and turned away the next instant.

That was all the evidence Sans needed.

His bony hands, tucked inside pockets, clenched. A flicker warmed the back of his left socket. For all the thought of having faced the flower many times in the past, he had not a single memory to go by. Not a single victory or loss, draw or stalemate, surrender or – for the sake of wishful thinking – truce. He would've liked very much to have at least one memory, and he could have it right now. This kid didn't look tough. Sans was confident he could wipe that smirk of this flower's face in five seconds flat.

He looked at the flower from his memories and, instead, saw a boy who took after his king, and who the old lady leant down and kissed on the forehead.

His fingers loosened. Flame subsided.

Get a grip, man, Sans told himself, wanting to add a slap for good measure. What ya thinkin'? He couldn't do that to Tori and King Asgore, not after everything they'd been through. There was no way Sans would be held accountable for costing his best friend and best ruler another child. Not after how deeply distraught she was after almost losing Frisk. Not after… Snowdin… and that other kid. Guess it was too late to take it back now.

"Hey. I gotta say…" Sans said quietly. Before he could falter, he switched on his usual attitude, flicking two thumbs up. "It's good to have ya back, bud."

Alphys opened her mouth to say something, regarding how she might've a clue as to how this came to be, but slammed it shut. The idea that she might have had something to do with this was too farfetched, she couldn't convince herself to believe it if she tried. Yes, she had experimented on one flower in her life. And yes, that exact same flower disappeared later. But how for certain did she know this was that flower? How did it get all the way from the King's garden in the Underground to here, the cusp of the Earth's atmosphere?

She might state her speculations at a later date. But for now, she perked up a smile and let Gorey and Tori have their son back. Let them have this.

Brute hummed a sleepy murmur. So monotone it tempted yawns from those around him. "Flower, pretty but cold," he articulated the best he could muster, sounding a little less like Frankenstein's monster. "Goat, fuzzy and warm. And cute." The tip of his index tapped Asriel's belly, forcing the giggle out in its entirety. "Squishy like marshmallow. Brute like new advisor. I… like the new you."

The little prince of monsters twisted to the right, laughing and clutching his side as his assistant playfully poked him. His laughter, his smile, Asriel thought he would never do any of those things ever again, nor did the others dream of seeing him again. Asriel returned to a state long forgotten. He wasn't a soulless flower or the god of hyperdeath or a shady dispenser of half-truths. He was a youngster once more.

Brute stopped and gave Frisk a tired glance which imparted a smidgen of the same energy; Frisk wanted to fall asleep just by making eye contact with him.

Without pulling away, he asked Asriel, "Still advisor?"

The boy gained control over his delightful belly to form coherent words. "I guess?"

"Then… still crush hum—?"

"NO!" Asriel shot forward and screamed – so abrupt that it startled everyone - whilst waving his hands in front of Brute's face. His petrified stare was wide and narrow, with beads of sweat trickled down around and between them. The many looks in his direction made the air grow thick, his head spin, his breathing short and rapid.

Toriel asked, "Asriel, what did he mean by—?"

Asriel snapped around to face her. "Nothing, Mom!" he blurted. His innocent show of teeth was betrayed by the rivulets running down his face. "It's nothing. N-nothing really. He meant to say crush… er, crush hum… crush… huuuuuumm… errr…" His stammering, peppered with ticks of nervous laughter, was shaky enough to register on the Richter scale. Fingers fidgeted, fiddling to undo the knots on his own sticky situation. "Crush… huuuum… errr…ssss?"

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and there was Frisk beside him, grinning profusely at Mom and Dad. Crush hum… mus! Frisk answered in Asriel's stead. This big guy was a waiter – a personal waiter. Yeah. His specialty was crushed hummus. Isn't that right, Asriel?

His mind blank; the Underground's prince went along anyway, nodding and confirming what they just said.

"Crushed hummus?" Toriel reiterated. After both children nodded so fast their heads were in danger of falling off, her arms went akimbo. "You are aware hummus is already crushed, right?"

Asriel's head went up and down while Frisk's went left and right. The two shared a glance, trying to reach the same step, and ended up swapping gestures. Asriel's ear slapped Frisk on the side of the head multiple times, ruffling their brown hair.

Toriel's face slackened. "My son, please do not tell me you attempted to hurt Frisk…"

Right there, little Dreemurr and little Frisk needed a hero, and it came in the form of large, stony paws upon their heads. Touching, the connection he and Flowey formed over many weeks reignited, and the two became one – the brain and the body.

"Crush…" Brute began, trying to read his advisor's motives. With a hand on the human, he could have sworn he felt them too. "Crush hum… mus." Honestly, he had no idea what hummus was, but he played along nonetheless. "Crush hummus."

Toriel's features remained scrunched in thought until, at last, she relaxed, slowly nodded and puckered her lips into an expression of acceptance. Asriel and Frisk sighed with smiles on their faces.

"Yes. Crush hummus." Brute shook his head. "No more crush human."

Asriel and Frisk were still smiling, but rigid, giggling like madmen and sweating up a tsunami.

Their hearts raced at the sight of Toriel's arms folding. "Asriel…" she said in a slow, stern manner. Honestly, Frisk had no idea why they were concerned.

The hero wasn't helping anymore. Time for the heroine!

"I wouldn't sweat about it too much," Undyne said, taking a spot beside them. She swirled a finger lazily around. "Pretty much everyone here's tried to kill Frisk at some point. Tried and failed." It fell in the direction of Emperor Maxus. "Except that guy, he sorta succeeded. Sorta. Tried, succeeded and failed, if that makes any sense."

"How can you say that?" Toriel made her question sharp, openly expressing her disdain. "That is not an excuse—"

Undyne interrupted with, "And it's still the best thing to ever happen to us."

She gestured to what their adventure had brought them – all of them. The Outerworld, a mirror of the Underground. Before the seventh human's fall, it had its own history, its stories, lives, loose ends, and Frisk landed in the middle of that world just how they rose to the quandaries which plagued this one. Two sides, separated, brought together. Whether or not the introduction of a certain human child had anything to do with breaking the formula it was up to debate. But it was like this now, and they were altogether once more.

"She has a point," Asgore said, softly nudging his wife in the back. The foster father, who once planned Frisk's end, taking Undyne's side in this argument.

Toriel looked at the faces around her and realised she was alone from her point of view. She went to argue, then remembered her own instance with Frisk back in the old New Home. Had she won, driven them away, and destroyed the door, would they be where they were now? Obviously not. Then Frisk wouldn't have reached the castle, and the barrier would never have been destroyed, and none of them would've started their new lives under blue sky, sun, stars and clouds, or had this adventure.

Her arms went slack and she faced upwards in a show of forfeiture. Just as quickly, she regained her motherly doggedness. "This is the last time, though. After today, we are done," she announced as she looked to her associates, sharing her hard stare indiscriminately. "No more fighting, and no more of anyone trying to kill anyone anymore. Can we please agree on that?"

She received a unanimous agreement from the rest – with Frisk being the first to get behind it. Just as Sans nodded, Toriel grabbed his sleeve and yanked his hand out of his pocket, revealing two fingers crossed. He received an extra dose of her branding not-mad-just-disappointed stare until he uncrossed his fingers and proclaimed scout's honour.

Maxus, however – while everyone else had their fill of laughs – remained caught up on the first topic.

"You mean to tell me," Maxus began, "all this time we had a kid collecting our info, sharing our secrets and discussing our plans?" His confounded look switched from Ariel to Frisk. "And you knew all along…"

Frisk guessed there was no point in weaselling their way out. They answered with a sigh, a nod, and a shrug in that order.

"Frisk?" whispered Asgore. His entire perspective on everything turned upside-down. This reunion sprouted questions, and unearthing those unearthed more questions. Already the digging had made a rabbit hole. "You knew about…?"

Asriel spoke in their defence: "It's a longer story than I'd like."

The late Emperor Juhi stepped forth and inserted his own thesis into the conversation.

"It's difficult to describe. But it would appear that something inside our advisor that wasn't there before has returned."

Maxus asked, "What do you mean?"

"I always thought Advisor Flowey was a strange one, even before I died. It got stranger after I found nothing inside him. He was completely empty, without a soul. Now, I sense one pulsing inside him."

Juhi felt his son's intense gaze move off him for a brief reprieve to bore into the advisor. They were back on him in no time at all.

"Anyone with one eye intact can see that," Maxus replied, "but… that can't be it, can it?"

Juhi thought about it a little. His influence flowed through the nooks and cracks which comprised what was left of the Land between Heaven and Earth and identified nothing else altered. He gave the human a quick look and received averted eyes as an answer.

"I think it is," he concluded with a shrug. "I apologise if you expected more."

Maxus shook his golden crown. "I'm not upset. Just surprised." It sank in to the Emperor; he, a monster, gave up his wish to another, a human, so they could give it up to another monster. Whether it was ironic, befitting, or downright insulting, Maxus could not gauge. He trusted that Frisk would make the best wish, that they alone held its best usage, and this was the result.

"Are you seeing this?" he posed to Kanika's spirit. "How does this make you feel? You spent all that time trapped inside that rock, holding the greatest power known to the Universe, and it all came to this."

Her glossy lips curved upwards at the sound of it. "And yet," Kanika said, "I'm not mad at all. In fact, I'm rather content with that."

"How?" Maxus sounded incredulous.

"I don't know Kanika's intentions exactly…" the spectre placed a starry hand upon her starry chest. "But through her feelings, I think I now understand what I am. Before the first war ended, her last moments were spent beside the Obelisk." Eyes closed. "Her body is failing. Soul ready to shatter. Her dreams of peace between the two are tarnished. All hope faded… except for one tiny shred. One palm cold, pressed against flat stone; the other, running something against its surface…"

Opening them up, she drew them to the markings.

World forsaken

Hope remains

True power awaken

Upon greatest strength's dawn

"There's nothing else after that," she said. "That's where she died, and how the first Outerworld ended." The same hand, now clenched into a fist, fell to her side. "If this is true, then I am that shred of hope."

This would mean the spirit was not all of Kanika, but a small piece of her; a representation of a small aspect bestowed upon the Obelisk. Everything else – her memories, personality, drives, beliefs – perished with the real her. This was all that remained, a single entity which learned as she watched the world turn on its axis, clinging to the residual feelings left by her predecessor. She was Kanika's final trace, and yet she wasn't Kanika at all.

"One shred of hope, waiting for the greatest strength…?" Maxus asked. Pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

Kanika's one shred of hope scratched her lip. "I have this feeling… this whole thing was one huge test."

"A test?"

"To see if both humans and monsters were capable of… being better, I guess?" She pointed to the markings on the pillar's face. "World forsaken. She wasn't referring to this world, she was referring to Earth. Kanika felt much injustice during the war. Saw much hate, and no mercy. Thoughts all aimed inwards, focused on themselves instead of others. And she realised it would repeat itself on Earth just as it happened here…

"Hope remains. Hope that, maybe, both sides were better than that. Hope that someday they could throw aside their differences and unite together as equals. And then there's the last line: true power awaken upon greatest strength's dawn."

Maxus responded, "I'm sure we're fully versed on that part."

To which Kanika's face lit aglow – more so than it already was. "A-ha! But you see, while forgiveness was the greatest strength,—" her marvel caught everyone off-guard "—the wish was never the true power."

Silence ensued. The obvious follow-ups would include "it isn't?" or "what then?" The not-so-obvious follow-up brewed within the complex intellect that was Papyrus: "If a train leaves a station carrying ninety-two passengers and travels north by north-west for three hours and twenty four minutes at one hundred and eighty one miles per hour…

Before any of those could come to fruition, Kanika answered everything except the train dilemma.

"The true power… it lies inside all of you." She gestured to everyone, young and old alike. "Don't you see? You didn't need the wish to make the world a better place, you all contain the power to make it better yourselves." She pointed randomly to the crowd. "You! You! You! Each and every one of you! You all can make the world wonderful. Beautiful. If you believe that you can, believe in yourselves, then you can achieve more than a better world – you can achieve anything! This is exactly what Kanika's been waiting for – I can feel it! She's proud. I think she's finally at peace."

Among those monsters were those who fought under the banner of the Empire, who donned argent armour and waved their flags, and those who sought to undermine them, those of the Rebellion. Together, they saw each other no longer as foes, but reflections of themselves; lives trying to live; people with loved ones, problems, and eases.

A series of events from the past week flicked through Maxus's memories. Something snagged. "You don't suppose everything leading up to this point was meant to happen, do you?" he asked.

"I don't know. All I do know for certain is that you three—" she pointed to Maxus, then Frisk, and then Asriel "—were the only people to hear my voice."

The only three. The monster who found the Outerworld, then found it in himself to forgive those who wronged him, ending a cycle of revenge which led nowhere. She called out to him, feeling the great loss which ruptured his soul, turned his entire life inside out.

The human who survived the Underground, then survived the Outerworld, and changed the Universe. Kanika, before Frisk was abducted, heard the echo in their soul. A grievance for the one they couldn't save.

The flower whom the wish was used on; the boy who strived to give every story its happy ending, at the cost of his own. She felt nothing at all, but a vast emptiness. A yearning for more. She spoke and filled that void with her echo.

That couldn't have been a coincidence.

"So now it's over," Maxus said. "Are we expected to get home by ourselves now? How are we going to manage that?"

Kanika responded confident with, "Like this."

The once invisible barrier surrounding the seven islands, reducing the sun into its pink shield, began to shimmer into crystal. The shine expanded out, flowing around the lands, the ruins, and the people itself. Family, friends and strangers expected the worse as the castle ruins faded and their homes evaporated, yet not a bump or an earthshattering rumble frightened them. Before they knew it, the ground had crumbled into a soft, grainy substance. The warm texture curved around soles and between toes.

Sand? Had they been whisked to the Oasis? To the paradise of its powder beach and clean water? No. This sand was different. Harsher. Grittier. Warmer.

The barrier faded. The sands stretched far to the north and south as the eastern horizon lay level and in a concoction of blue and gold. The surroundings had vanished along with the borders which comprised the seven islands. There was no Highkeep Enclave, or Bob, or Oasis, or Rocklyn. The one remaining thing which resembled home was the Obelisk, slanted slightly in the sand.

Juhi was stunned. "Wait… this beach. Do you recognise it?" he asked his son, tugging at his elbow. "I swear we've been here once before."

Maxus gazed at the ocean, then swung to the land, to the cluster of trees not too far away. "Yes, I do." He saw past to the shape of the horizon. The pattern within the terrain. The shade of green in the grass. "I sat at the very edge of that forest over there when I was…"

Six years old.

"This is where it all began," Kanika explained. "Home. I feel… I feel Kanika wished to see this place one last time before she died. Maybe I've been carrying that same dream ever since. If so, she can rest easy now."

The barrier surrounding the thousands of monsters began to falter and dwindle, fading in an out of reality, revealing brief glimpses of the skies true nature. Hundreds and thousands of living creatures packed onto the large beach, disorientated and staring at the flickering around them, wondering what was going to happen the second it ended.

Kanika went on. "It's nearly time." Her voice went to every ear. "In a few moments, the last traces of magic will run dry and the Outerworld will be no more. Which means its power will no longer sustain any of you. You'll all start aging normally again." She paused. "And the Grey Ones… Well…"

Silent glances fell from Kanika to those ashen. Juhi, Danyell, Eden, Rex, Dunmore, Rita's parents, and a ton more lives locked between life and death.

Danyell gazed up in awe. His arms slack in an expression many would call inappropriately calm for a time like this. "Could it be…?" he said no louder than a breath. He had dreamed of this moment for far too long. "Could it really be?"

Overseer Eden straightened his protruding straws, rubbing off excess ash in the process. This was what death's door looked like, and he wanted to be as dignified as he could be in his undead condition.

"This moment," he said, clairvoyant, "has been long overdue."

"It's about time…" Dunmore remarked after having said enough, seen enough, and done enough. As a young cauldron, he was terrified at having his life cut short, having all his hopes dashed by the whims of others. It took him a long time to realise the terrors which laid in the opposite, of not dying. He had lived far beyond his boundaries, continued to walk and talk and think long after his body rusted and his mind weakened little by little. Now, he wanted nothing more than to sleep forever.

Somewhere in his madness, Rex stumbled upon the last rational thought he had. His perpetual aggressiveness drifted away, and he stood as calm as a stream.

"Rex… finally die…"

Rita turned to her parents. She had lost them so long ago for them to return in the worst possible fashion. She felt great pain; her parents felt it throbbing like a festering wound. The discomfort for the state they were in mingled with pain for losing them once, coupled with the sudden prospect of losing them a second time, was too much to bear.

"You're-you're goin' away now?" she dared to ask, afraid of the answer she knew was coming.

Her mother glanced down at her wrist, envisioning the silver watch she wore since her daughter was ten.

"It's awfully late… pet…" she said as tired as someone who had too much party wine, and eager to get home to bed.

"Yes, dear…" Rita's pa answered. "We should… be going now…"

Rita's head shook in denial. On one hand, she did not want them to leave her again; but, on the other, just seeing them like that was in itself torture. Her parents, caught in this cycle of undying, their minds weathered on whetstones. Rita wasn't even sure if they recognised her as the woman standing before them there or the child they cared for.

She pulled them together close; her parents were there, but not there at the same time. Alive but dead. Sane but insane. Aware of reality and stuck in a fantasy land all at the same time. The brief traces of which she could call Ma and Pa, she latched onto those, cherishing them as the minutes dwindled away.

Sam was at Rita's side, his hardened wrappings held her softly. He struggled to look, and struggled harder on what to say. "Rita… Honey…"

"I don't know what I want. I don't want you to leave me again…" Rita choked. "But… I can't stand to see you like this." She stammered. "I don't know."

Whether her parents held her now as she was, or as the toddler with the soiled pinafore and scraped knees, Rita would never know nor would she care. In some inane hope, she believed that she held the people who brought her into this world. The same way they held their daughter, Rita, one last time.

As his own doom closed in, it was not himself who Juhi was concerned about. "What about you?" he asked Kanika's missing link.

She answered on a sombre note. "I am one with its magic." She looked at her starry hands. "Once it goes… I go, too."

"Are you afraid of what will happen next?"

"Are you?" she threw right back.

Juhi gazed at the sun; the first time he had seen it like that in a while, destined to be his last. "I learned the hard way that some things are worse than death. I've lived far too long to be afraid. In some strange way, I think I've earned this. I think we all have. I can leave this world behind now, knowing it's in good hands."

"You and me both. Despite all I've seen, I do wonder what the next world holds."

"Then let's find out. Together."

One corner of Kanika's lips rose. She switched from the sun, to Juhi, then back, carrying some of that natural sunlight with her look at the previous emperor. She had spent far too long watching other people's adventures play out from start to finish. Now it was time for an adventure of her own, and it lay out there across the water.

The barrier crystallised its strongest – metaphorically breathing its dying breath – before the entire wall began to crack and shatter, starting from above and working its way down. The field keeping them in and the world out diminished, and crumbled into shards which fizzled into twinkling stars. Behind it, the diluted sky saturated, contrasting vibrant colours of orange to red, red to violet, violet to indigo, indigo to navy. When it was all gone, the full force of the real world slammed into those thousands of souls.

The Outerworld citizens gazed out across the ocean, from its blue roots to its golden petals on the horizon, made valuable by the setting sun, large and orange. The lapping of the ocean. The hint of salt in the humidity. For the first time, they saw the outside world without the looking glass, witnessing true colour, sight and smell.

It was like General Juhi was a young man again, back at the start. He stood there exactly how he stood in a time long forgotten, believing his life to be over. The rays on his body. Sand beneath his feet. Wind in his hair. Never before had he felt so alive.

They forgot about everything; every trace of evil in the world, for one moment, and basked in this dusk.

"It's beautiful…" Danyell said, giving the overseer a nudge on the arm. "Glad we got to see it again."

"Indeed…" Eden replied. "One last time."

Danyell, the proud scout – wounded during the war and lived long above the clouds – sighed with relief as a gentle breeze carried him away. His body flaked away molecule by molecule until he was but ashes in the wind. Overseer Eden remained distinguished, back straight, hands meeting behind back, as his dusty matter joined Danyell's, leaving a few straws where he last stood.

The strength of natural sunlight made Rex fell very sleepy. He hunched down onto all fours, crawled around in circles a few times, stretched his back straight from his neck to the tip of his tail, and then curled up on the warm sand.

Half asleep, the sun was the last thing he saw. He mumbled his farewell to the world: "Nighty… night…"

At last, he found sleep.

Dunmore sat down and rolled on the natural curve in his back. He had no last words, or regrets either. He gazed up at the multi-coloured sky, looking back on his life, remembering the good times before the wind carried him away.

Rita's dusty parents in the direct sunlight was the future they could have had. Sam held his wife just as how her parents held each other.

"Time… for us to go, dearie," Rita's father announced. "Take care of yourself…"

"And Sam, darling…" the mother said, gesturing her featureless head his way. "You take care of Ritie… you hear…?"

Sam nodded. "I will. I promise."

Rita wiped at her glowing eyes. "I'm gonna miss you…"

Even though she couldn't see it, Rita knew they were smiling.

"Knock 'em dead, Ritie," her mother said. "Love you. Always."

Together, in each other's arms, Rita's parents remained unified as their bodies crumbled, carted off into the air. She watched unblinking as those figures became unrecognisable above, becoming one with the mist.

Each and every member of the ash gave their final goodbyes to their loved ones as the last remnants of magic piecing them together ran out. Monsters crumbled after bidding their farewells, between embraces, and after sharing final words of wisdom:

'Follow your soul.' 'Wash behind your ears – all four of them.' 'Be in bed by eight.' 'Love means never having to say you're sorry, except when it isn't.' The usual riffraff.

Before their dust danced in the air, the looks on all those grey faces were not that of sadness, but of joy, happiness. It was written: this was not a moment of despairing, but of rejoicing. The tears which cried for their loss also cried for their freedom, and for the memories they shared.

Kanika felt it in her atoms. She was not constructed of dust, yet those gone beckoned her name; a space amongst them reserved just for her. An invitation to join them on their final journey. How could she refuse such an offer?

"The journey may be long, but I'm almost there, Kanika," the final shred of hope stated to herself, reaching out to the body she had been subjugated from. "I'll find you." One by one, her stars floated upwards, joining the twinkling ash in the wind. "I just know I'll find you."

As the magic ceased, so did she. Her stars dispersed and joined the swirling ash above.

The numbers dwindled one after the other until a single soulless figure of dust was left. Juhi. He watched as his comrades swerved around and around above, waving and flowing to no obvious pattern or any rhyme. An unpredictable flow of knots and diamonds, weaving in and out.

"They're waiting for me," he said. "I better not keep them any longer."

As he glanced back down, he discovered that not only was Maxus there to say goodbye, but also Barb, Haze, Rickard, and Leigh.

The bounty hunter was first up, hands clenched together as if in prayer. "Hey, Juhi," she said, sounding small for someone of her reputation. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to say goodbye the first time."

"That's quite alright," Juhi replied. "Be glad you're here to say it now. You've got a bright future ahead of you. Get out in the sunlight more. Meet new people. Wear something a little less… constrictive. You'll do fine out there." His outlined eyes scanned the features of those he called his allies, comrades, and aged friends – Haze a little older from the last time he saw him. "You'll all do."

Uncharacteristically, Professor Haze graced his old friend with a good-natured chuckle. "Knowing my future," he said, "I'll be seeing you again sooner than you think."

"I most likely won't be that far behind," Leigh, the tiger general, added before massaging his neck.

"Then I expect to hear some extraordinary stories from both of you later," Juhi said. He saw them not in the pink shade thanks to the protective field, but under pure light. He had never seen them in such colour – such vibrancy. He scarcely recalled seeing such in the Dark Ages, back when he had real eyes. "Thank you both for everything. For your innovations, and your dedication to the military. I couldn't have asked for better allies."

Haze hobbled forward on his walking stick and shook hands with the man he knew from the start. "Until we meet again, your highness."

Juhi chuckled as he detected a hint of deadpan in that pronunciation of your highness.

"It's been a pleasure while it lasted," Leigh said, and shook the same hand which Haze shook.

Finally, it came time to Rickard to say his peace. However, on his cue, he refrained from speaking. He appeared empty without his trademark pad and pen, which should be taking notes on this momentous occasion: the day the Outerworld went free.

"You know, Rickard," Juhi said, "I think your talents were wasted on note duty."

Rickard, after hearing that, snapped his chin up. Whether he should he be humbled or insulted by that remark, he could not tell.

He continued. "You're better than you think. You're one of the bravest souls I've ever met in my life. But you don't believe it yourself." He pointed to him, almost tapping the tip of Rickard's nose. "I want you to start believing, Rickard. Get out there into the real world and make something of yourself. I know you can."

Rickard's mouth opened. The albino rat had something to say. "My Lord. Thank you. For everything."

It did not sound like much. However, to Juhi, it meant everything.

The dying lion said, "Make yourself proud."

Particles began to flake off Juhi's body, rising like embers in flame, the steam off of hot springs. His life fading away contained such an unusual, fascinating beauty.

"Dad, I…" Maxus was slouched, switching back and forth between the ground and him before settling on the ground. "I wish I could have saved you."

Juhi smiled. "You already have," he said before taking a few steps back. "Goodbye, everyone. Goodbye, my son."

As Juhi diminished, joining the rest of his kind, he couldn't take his eyes off his son.

"That's my boy…" He stretched his hand toward Maxus and said it proudly. His voice so cracked it belonged to a weeping man. "That's my boy, right there!"

In that moment, it struck the Emperor. He couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He rushed forward, reaching out. "Dad!"

Hand outstretched, he reached where his mighty father stood and grabbed empty air. The tall, imposing frame of the late Emperor Juhi faded away in the wind and became one with the storm which eclipsed the dying day.

Those particles sparkled in the sun's rays, coming alive in sparks of blue, red, green and yellow. They danced, having been freed from the shackles of their eternal torment. They span slow then fast; faster and faster until they flew out across the ocean. This was not the end, but rather, a new beginning. Their journey upon this world came to its conclusion, and so began their new tale.

Paradise. The living held them in their prayers. Guide them to the light, to the world beyond worlds, where the traveller never grew wary, the found were never lost, and the few were never alone.

The departed left their own prayers to those they were leaving behind. All they asked was that they remembered them, and respected their passing with one little wish…

Live.

Maxus, surrounded by those he alienated, those he didn't deserve, watched as the deceased took to the world beyond the sunset. His father's words span in his head, destined to remain forever as the twinkling ashes became one with the horizon. His old man was proud to call him his son.

"Maxus… are you okay?" Rickard's voice was heard.

Maxus, the emperor of a world now gone, found his former scribe beside him. The urgency written upon his pale features was unwarranted given the shoddy send-off he received – a shame Maxus will carry until his ashes joined his father's.

"I'm… unharmed. Why do you ask?" Maxus asked.

Rickard pointed directly into his former ruler's face. "Your eye. It appears to be…" he twirled his hand as he searched for the right word. "Leaking?"

"Leaking?"

Maxus swiped his cheek, and in doing so, caught a single drop of gold as it sank into the fur of his index finger.

His first tear.