To that one person who told me they liked the name of the story already, I'm talking about a name for a series, not a new name for this story! Name suggestions for the series are still welcome, though I'll only be accepting new ideas for one more chapter after this one! So far the roster of titles we've got includes:

The Magic of Souls (1)

Tales of Monsters, Humans, and Fairies

Fairies and Monsters Gone Fowl (1)

Stories About Fairies, Monsters, and Two Bizarre Humans

Fairytales (1)

Temporal Dynamics for the Magically Inclined (1)

Okay Flowey, Stop Traumatizing the Fairies

Underground Fairies

Also, feel free to vote on any one of the titles you like! As you can see, 4 people have already done this...


It had been a very, very long time since Frisk had been frightened of a kidnapper.

Kidnappings were yet another constant between timelines. In any run where the monsters were free to live under the stars and Frisk was acting as their ambassador, there were always at least one or two attempts to abduct them, usually to use them as blackmail to send the monsters back Underground. However, they had long since lost their fear of kidnappers in general – their paranoia made it easy enough to avoid them, and if a kidnapping actually succeeded, they were easily escaped, if not by actually escaping, then by suffering through another death. Dying may not have been pleasant, but it definitely gave them an out if they needed it.

But this time, Frisk was horribly, terribly certain that dying and ushering on another LOAD would only delay the inevitable.

How are you supposed to evade a man – a wizard – who can convince almost any human being on the planet to come after you?

They'd already run those odds through their head several times, and they honestly couldn't think of a way, and that only made the noose of panic tighten even more tightly around them. The nameless wizard had heavily implied that, before Chara had stepped in, that hypnotizing magic he used had never failed – and considering how easily his voice had pulled Frisk under its spell, they were inclined to believe him.

And there was the main reason for their newfound terror, right there: he'd controlled them so easily. If Chara hadn't taken over, they were one hundred percent certain that they would've spilled the secret of the Resets, of SAVEs and LOADs, to a man they didn't know and who likely at least disliked, maybe even hated the monsters.

*Please stop thinking about that. Seriously. I don't need the reminder.

Frisk winced. Chara sounded just as nervous as they felt, and they couldn't help but feel guilty about it. Sorry.

*Just stop dwelling on it. So long as I'm here, he won't be able to get any secrets out of you that way.

True. That was a very comforting thought, especially considering their current situation.

Frisk took a deep breath, trying to calm themselves down with limited success, and, in an effort to distract themselves, began trying to pull their bound wrists apart. The ropes were tied tightly, with a knot they didn't recognize – it had been a very long time since they'd been tied up like this, and they hadn't bothered reminding themselves of different sorts of knots recently – and pulling on them was making them chafe painfully against their skin. They'd probably end up with rope burns if they kept this up…

Then again, rope burns were nothing compared to Sans's Karmic Retribution magic. That felt like they were being covered in acid. So they kept at it.

They stayed silent for a long time, Frisk working stubbornly on the ropes (anything to distract them from thoughts about the wizard), and Chara probably invisibly pacing around the room. The only other noise that they could hear was the faint buzz of the light bulb hanging overhead, and the occasional whisper of conversation from who they presumed to be guards in the hallway outside.

Eventually, though, the silence was broken by footsteps, and the door unlocking. Frisk stiffened, fighting the urge to squirm backward into a corner where it was safer. Crap is he back already?! Please let it be someone else, please let it be someone else -

It was someone else. When the door swung open, it was a tall man in a plain grey hoodie with a black ski mask covering his entire face save for his eyes. Once Frisk ascertained that no, this was not the wizard, they relaxed a little and eyed the man. Their attention was quickly drawn by the crinkling of foil – clutched in one of the man's hands were what looked like energy bars.

Food. They hadn't even noticed it before now – their panic must have distracted them – but they were incredibly hungry. They hadn't eaten since before they'd been kidnapped!

"Hey, kid," the man said gruffly, though not unkindly. He unwrapped one of the bars and held it close to their (totally not drooling) mouth. "Here, eat. I bet you're hungry. I'll bring some water in later, too."

Frisk was sorely tempted to lunge for the bar, but paranoia won over baser instincts. Chara, do you think it's poisoned?

*Even if it is, that'll just get us out of here sooner, right?

True. Gingerly, Frisk leaned forward and took a bite out of the bar. It was one of those sweetened granola bars – bland in comparison to Toriel's butterscotch-cinnamon pie, but still far better than, say, Dog Residue. They eagerly ate the rest of the bar, careful not to bite the man's fingers by accident.

The man waited until they were finished with the first bar and had started on the second before he said, very quietly, "Kid, if you'd answered the questions, you'd be out of here by now. So why didn't you?"

Frisk blinked at him. "Why would I give away answers to the person that kidnapped me?"

He winced and didn't say another word. As soon as Frisk finished the second bar, he stood up and hastily left the room, locking it behind him. After another moment, Frisk could hear a slightly muffled conversation through the door.

"Hey man, you okay?"

"What do you think? We're holding a little kid hostage." That was the man who'd just been in the room.

"A little kid that knows a lot about the monsters," another voice, a woman's, pointed out. "And that O'Reilly said we'll be letting them go once they've answered his questions."

O'Reilly. Was that the wizard's name? Frisk swallowed, throat suddenly dry. Somehow I don't think he's going to just let me go anymore.

"Doesn't mean I have to like this. I really don't like this."

And with those words, the guards went quiet, leaving Frisk to stew in silence once more.


Hours later, the wizard whose name may or may not have been O'Reilly returned. His arrival was betrayed by the soft murmur of conversation that had started up again suddenly coming to a screeching halt, and by Chara's hissed warning – still, Frisk couldn't quite stop themselves from flinching and curling up a little on themselves when the door swung open.

The man had a bandage over his nose and seemed to have calmed down since he'd left – that cold, menacing look was no longer there, and instead had been replaced by an impassive calm. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, studying them with narrowed eyes, then crossed the room to crouch in front of them, like he had the first time – though, Frisk couldn't help but notice, he stayed a little farther away this time, well out of headbutting range (much to Chara's amusement, if the vicious snickering was any indication.)

He said nothing at first, letting Frisk stew in their nervousness for several seconds. Then, finally, he spoke.

"So, Ambassador," he said, and his voice was just as impassively calm as his face. "Are you ready to answer my question? Truthfully, this time?"

Instead of answering out loud, Frisk just gritted their teeth and stayed silent.

The wizard sighed and rocked back on his heels. "Look, ki – Dreemurr. I'm going to get the answers I need, one way or another. I don't want to have to force you."

More silence. The man's eyes narrowed, a flash of angry frustration flying across his face for a moment before his expression smoothed once more.

"Very well, if you're not willing to answer my original question, what about a new one?" He leaned forward – still being careful not to lean in too close. "What weaknesses do the monsters have that they've kept hidden from the public?"

Despite their best efforts to stay poker-faced, Frisk's eyes still widened before they could stop them. They quickly stifled their shock, but the damage had already been done – the man had noticed their reaction, and smiled grimly.

"Don't bother trying to deny it, Ambassador. There's not much information on the human-monster war, but it's common knowledge that the monsters lost, and that's more than a little fishy. An entire race of powerful, magical beings, driven underground by a human army with next to no magic, with no human casualties? Somehow I doubt they lost just because they were outnumbered."

No, they didn't. Frisk's teeth were clenched so hard now that they were hurting. But I'm not about to tell you what did make them lose. Not in a million years.

Their determination to not say another word must've shown, because another flicker of frustration swept across the man's face before he grimaced and continued talking, sounding slightly strained. "Dreemurr, it'll be easier for all of us if you just answer a question, already. What's one question for your freedom?"

Frisk stared at him. "It won't be easier for the monsters."

His expression twisted into something somewhere between irritation and hate, this time. "You're willing to risk your own well-being for a race of creatures that killed six children before you?"

They squared their shoulders, mustering all of their Determination and using it to steel themselves for what was probably going to be a downright explosive reaction. "Yes." They said firmly.

Silence dragged itself out between them for moments that felt more like small eternities. The man gritted his teeth, choking down furious words. There was so much venom struggling to escape from his mouth that Frisk could practically see it.

He really hates the monsters. Why?

They didn't dare ask that question out loud. They sincerely doubted the man would kill them at this point if he was willing to keep trying to get answers out of them, but they wouldn't put it past him to take out his fury on the monsters if they said something wrong.

"Fine," the man growled, finally. "Have it your way, Ambassador, but I will get the answers I'm looking for, and you're running out of time."

And with that chilling statement, he stood up and left the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a resounding click.


The morning after the Ambassador's abduction was far too bright and sunny. It just didn't feel right for such a dark mood to be accompanied by sunshine and birds singing, especially after said dark mood had lasted the entire night.

Some of that dark mood was, most likely, because Holly had been right when she'd suspected Artemis would protest the orders to mind-wipe Frisk. She'd invited herself into the human's penthouse apartment at the exact same time that he'd been arguing with a member of the Council, a crotchety old elf that, by the looks of his clothes, practically had gold coming out of his ears. The Mud Boy had spent at least another five minutes attempting to convince the fairy that the decision the Council had made was wrong, but to no avail – no matter how many logical points he made as to why the mind-wipe was a bad idea, the first and foremost being they had no idea how the monsters would react when they found out, the fairy refused to listen.

"We don't have to worry about that, because the monsters won't find out, Fowl," he'd said, completely ignoring the fact that Artemis had stated it was a matter of when, not if, before cutting off communications. He'd left behind an extremely frustrated and borderline infuriated Fowl, who then proceeded to stay up the rest of the night, waiting for the fairy search teams to find something while he hacked his way through several databases looking for information himself.

Holly had wisely kept her mouth shut that entire time, knowing that speaking up too soon would only result in an icy glare and possibly some scathing comments, and so the night had passed in relative silence, save for whenever one of the teams or Foaly contacted the two of them with updates.

Well, until the aforementioned way-too-bright-and-sunny-morning came around, at which point Holly decided enough was enough.

"Artemis, you should take a break." She sighed. When he ignored her and continued to type away at his laptop, she grumbled under her breath – Frond-damned geniuses getting absorbed in their work – and hopped down from the office chair she'd spent the night in. She walked around the Mud Boy's desk, and then punched him hard enough on the arm that it might have left a bruise.

That worked. Artemis winced in pain, then turned away from the screen to give her one of his patented Looks.

"Don't bother with the death glare." Holly rolled her eyes at him. "You've been up for almost fifteen hours straight. You should get some sleep, before you drop dead of exhaustion and give the Council a reason to declare a new holiday or something."

Artemis made an irritated noise, pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger. After a few moments, however, he sighed.

"I suppose some rest would be advantageous," he relented, grudgingly.

That was one advantage to having a logical genius as a friend – even if they didn't want to stop whatever they were doing to take care of themselves, once it was pointed out to them they could usually work out the logic of why doing so was a good idea, and you didn't need to prod them too much to actually get up and do it.

Well, didn't usually need to prod them too much. There were always exceptions.

"I'll keep an ear on things," she promised, tapping her earpiece pointedly. "Go give that genius brain some shut-eye. Go dream about robbing a bank or something."

Artemis looked very reluctantly amused at this but didn't comment, for once, instead shutting down his laptop and disappearing into his bedroom, leaving the LEP captain alone in his office.

"Well," Foaly said through her earpiece a moment later. "Somehow I expected him to protest more about being sent to bed." He pitched his voice in an imitation of what he apparently had expected. " 'You are not my mother, Holly!'"

She snorted. "He knows better."

"Yeah, right."

The elf shook her head, cracking a grin, and returned to her chair, plopping down heavily on the cushion. She was halfway tempted to close her eyes and take a quick nap – she hadn't had much in the way of sleep either – but if she did, there would be no one to keep an ear out.

Oh well. She'd just have to wait until Artemis woke up.

"So, anything new?"

Foaly huffed irritably. "I've started looking through camera records. The city's started putting up some experimental solar-powered cameras in some of the intersections. It's possible that one or more of them managed to catch the mesmerized kidnapper on camera while he was leaving the scene – not exactly likely, but still possible." He made another guttural sound of annoyance. "But because the cameras are so new, and all over the city, all the recordings get shunted into random databases! They're so disorganized! And if the kidnapper knew about the cameras, he might've tried to avoid them completely!"

"Well, the perp that actually did the abducting was mesmerized. Maybe he overlooked the cameras – it wouldn't be the first time a mesmerized human didn't pay attention to some of the finer details."

"Let's hope so, otherwise this is just gonna be another dead end, and we might have to search the entire city by wing!"

And with that oh-so-heartening grumble, Foaly fell silent, leaving Holly hoping fervently that they wouldn't actually have to search the entire city. They couldn't afford to waste that much time.


Frisk's guards, despite being terrorists, do have things they'd rather not get involved with, and in the case of at least one of them so far, one thing they'd rather not get involved with is kidnapping. (Even terrorists have standards!)

And Foaly, you better hurry up with those cameras! I have a feeling that the kidnapper's not gonna be patient for much longer…

And now for worldbuilding – this is the last group of questions I got from MemorySteel: "Are there bloodlines for mage families? Can there even be a Half-Mage, or is Magedom effectively an on-off genetic switch? It is genetic, right?"

Human magedom in this 'verse is an odd mixture of genetic and spiritual, in the sense of actually being one. People descended from mages are considerably more likely to be mages themselves. However, the magic each mage develops tends to be heavily affected by their soul - their soul will either effect how their magic functions (willpower vs knowledge vs instinct or unable to be controlled) or what their magic does (certain kinds of magic only appear in people with certain dominant soul traits - for instance, the kind of magic that the Yellow Shaman was capable of, the whole "absorb magic and then throw it back at the source" thing, is only something that someone with Justice as one of their dominant traits is capable of.)

So, basically, the potential to use magic is passed down through genetics, while the actual functionalities and development of magic are dictated by the soul (and anything that affects the soul, like large concentrations of magic.)