((Author's Note: Couple of things to know before anyone jumps into this:
This story is actually based on a comic I've already been working on called "Origins," which acts as a prequel to the game set in/around the time of the War Between Humans and Monsters. It's an AU of that just with, well, a darker turn on everything: Think Underfell, but really this story could spiral into Undertale's regular timeline just as easily. I'm working on this on the side just because the concept interests me and I need something to keep myself grounded while I try to work on the comic since it takes me a lot longer to make. The first volume to "Origins" is already up on my DA and Tumblr and as of right now I'm working on redoing the second. (It's on hiatus until I'm at a comfortable enough to make updates again.) Feel free to check out both, as the personalities and histories of the characters will differ greatly even while hitting just enough of the same points to keep them running parallel to each other.))
The first time Ferris RESET, she'd lost a hand.
For all her desperate fighting to escape, it was a clean cut, but that hadn't stopped the bleeding—and no one was interested in patching up a kid who already looked like they had one foot in the grave. No one wanted to touch the grimy thief who had only moments before shown the gall to try to swipe a purse off of the Sheriff's belt. So, clutching the useless limb to her chest, she'd ran to the isolated sanctuary of a narrow alley. By then, her throat hurt too much to scream any longer and she died crying the tears she'd promised herself to never let fall again. She thanked God Ciara wasn't around to see her like that. Nevermind the horror of leaving her sister alone, it wasn't good for her image.
Ferris stopped asking 'why' she was able to cheat death not long after that. She'd had a lot of second-chances since then, and they all went the same way: Death; darkness; a single, shining light; revival. It was a cycle Ferris was more used to than she cared to admit… Still, now she understood better which pockets were safe to pick and how much she could push her own luck. She died less often and both sisters shared a healthier glow with fuller bellies. They were survivors. In an ugly world, that was all that mattered.
The dim glow of the fading sun made it hard to see her reflection in the already dingy glass window of a nearby shop. She frowned at it all the same. Her dark, lopsided hair was starting to get long again, coiling past her right shoulder. The last time she let it grow out, her target had practically yanked it out of her scalp before beating her to a pulp with nothing to show for the day. A hand subconsciously fell to the knife strapped at her waist. She'd chop it later.
Mollendale's cobblestone streets were starting to clear as people turned in for the night. The subtle crinkle of bread beneath her shirt as she moved reminded her to hurry as well. Although the girl's gaze never left the path in front of her, she paid close attention to her surroundings. There was the alluring smell of a hot stew as she passed the entrance to the local tavern, as well as the not-so-appeasing scent of vomit from where one of its patrons was already well intoxicated. A fairly young skeleton caught her eye at one of the stalls closing up. Monsters weren't common in this part of the Two Kingdoms. No matter how tightly he bundled the cloak around himself, he stood out like a sore thumb. And then there was the slosh of water behind her. She'd skipped over that puddle, but clearly at least one of her three pursuers didn't think to.
It didn't matter to Ferris why they were after her. People were kidnapped for all sorts of reasons and—while they rarely lasted longer than it took for her to RESET again—she'd experienced her share of them already. Usually, it was to use her or put her up for sale on the black market. Sometimes, it was to mug her, but more often than not, she had nothing for anyone to take. She didn't think the trio behind her were that impressive. She could fight back enough to deter them. It'd been hours since she'd SAVED though, and Ferris really didn't want to go through that dull day all over again.
She'd have to lose them before she reached the outskirts of town. Without changing her pace, she turned the corner toward one of the more residential areas. Ferris knew each and every one of these streets well, had grown up on them. However, it felt like it had been a lifetime since she'd actually called them home.
She passed by the small church her family used to go to. It looked like the roof was finally repaired, but she could still envision the charred, blackened pillars that had remained from the old one—like dark spikes risen above the worn stone. She missed going there. She even thought about claiming sanctuary a few times, but that would raise more questions that she was willing to answer.
The sky had only grown darker. She should've been back by now. Ciara would worry. Ferris hoped her sister just had enough sense this time to stay put.
And those men were still after her. Abandoning her mock oblivious air, she ran—boots beating hard against the empty road with a trio of echoes soon matching her own footfalls. Her mouth was twisted into a determined line, her furrowed gaze hard. Where to run: Where was the nearest alley for her to duck into to slip away?
A surprised cry tore past her lips as something clawed at her chest from the inside, striking her so suddenly that for a moment she believed that she was suffering some kind of attack. No sooner had the thought come to mind, it was brutally knocked out her—along with the wins in her lungs—as her feet left the ground and she was thrown against a wall. The harsh impact racked her whole body and she slid down in a pained heap.
Ferris saw them at last catch up from behind her long bangs and glared. They hadn't even touched her… Mages, they were mages! The girl should've noticed it before, the vibrant, off-color eyes that often came with strong or regularly manifested magic: Yellow, orange, blue. A curse slipped past her lips as fear she hadn't felt in the longest time coursed up her spine.
Across Ebott's Two Kingdoms, monsters were the ones humans most hated and feared. Mages though, they were just plain freaks of nature. A human's strong soul, combined with the possession of an intense magic only monsters were usually born with, they practically outcasts. Of course, she was one to talk… Humans who could use magic were sometimes killed or enslaved, but all the while that power was so, so useful. The ones who knew how to play their cards right could work their way to positions under only a noble's command.
The glint of golden fastenings on one of their belts caught her eye. Ferris wondered what kind of mages these were: The high-ranking goons who bowed to a lord or the twisted, broken souls that sold out their own to fight in underground, gladiator-like areas and be the playthings of others. The weight against her chest keeping her pinned, gritting her teeth, she supposed it didn't matter.
The yellow-eyed mage's confident smirk faltered as her raised a confused brow. He leaned down at the waist, squinting to examine her more closely in the darkness. She drew a wad of phlegm from the back of her throat and spat at him, her bad manners rewarded with a callused hand twisting her hair in his grasp and pulling her up by the scalp. He chuckled, "Hey now, fellas… This one's a girl!"
"Wouldn't ya know it…" murmured a second with only slight interest. It was an easy mistake to make ever since she cut her hair the first time, her appearance all the more deceptive thanks to the dark pants and tunic she wore. That, and she'd been told her face was never all that pretty as a woman's should be anyway. She'd embraced it, meant to deceive, but once anyone got a close look it was never enough.
"Well, aren't you a rare one, girly?" the first mage pulled her head back to show off to the others and she withheld a sharp grunt, "With those blood-red eyes—crimson magic! Where has a gem like you been hiding?"
In the very least, they weren't a part of the local lord's menagerie. Most checked to make sure all mages in their domain were accounted for and kept under control, even delving into the black market to make certain of that. Mollendale's lord was no exception, and in fact encouraged using his mages for sport. That was why she'd kept silent when her magic had first awakened.
As mentioned, off-color eyes were common, but not the rule for mages. Her sister shared her vibrant, red irises, but was perfectly normal—at least as far as she knew. Besides, even though crimson mages were the only ones to have access to all types of magic, their powers specialized in prophecy and were the hardest to prove. Apparently, these idiots just didn't care.
"Do you understand me, girl? Can you talk?"
Ferris said nothing except with eyes, staring the trio down as she struggled against the heavy weight nestled at her core that bound her in place. Her thoughts turned to her knife. If she could just grab it without notice, one, wild swing might be enough to give her an opening—
There was no time to consider a plan. A bright, white blur tore through her vision and into the side of the yellow-eyed mage. It pierced through his waist like a small javelin, the speed of the blow not even offering him to chance to cry out as he dropped her and crumpled to the ground in shock. Wide-eyed, Ferris thought she saw one of his ribs now poking out of his body; however, it was the sharpened tip of the weapon, itself bonelike—and shimmering with magic.
Now was her chance to run, but she didn't. She couldn't help it. Her gaze followed the other two mages' own back down the road where a sole figure stood: The skeleton she'd only paid half a mind toward moments earlier.