Chapter Seventeen

The world had vanished, snapped into oblivion, and took longer than it normally did to reappear. When he used these powers, Sans tended to have some idea of where he wanted to end up. This was of course a special case, and he felt himself rushing through a gale of nothingness as he tried to reach a decision.

He landed heavily upon loose snow, his bare feet sinking into frozen powder. He swayed, extending his arms to stabilize. Too long in the space of nowhere, feeling as though he traveled miles a minute while standing still, typically had these effects. Once he regained his balance, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky.

The moon was but a fraction of light hidden behind a thick gray veil, lighting up the clouds and turning them silver with what little influence it had. Stars gleamed from beyond, their shine like brilliant eyes looking back at him. He felt for the first time, the sense of wonder he'd had for them melt away. The moon and stars… The cosmos, the realm beyond their planet… He'd soon learned about their true nature. The moon was simply a space rock, and the stars massive drops of plasma, the light of which was ancient by the time it reached his gaze. The facts had never bothered him. They'd never extinguished that fire he'd carried in his soul. So why…?

Why did it feel as though his soul had frozen over?

These fragments of memory played out again and again. A fog drifted into his mind, but the system remained unhindered. He felt the others try to reach him, and shut himself off from their presence. He allowed his thoughts and memories to flood with no rhyme or reason. He stared out at a horizon he didn't see, allowing his brain to process all that it needed.

The blame fell on whatever had gone on before the Burnt Toast Incident, he was sure, and though the files tried their best to hide from him, their firewalls were weaker now. He couldn't get a full grip on the events that'd played out. Things still came to him in bits and pieces. Regardless, he knew that something had happened, and whatever it'd been, it had ignited that long lost ethereal flame. A flame that found itself turned colder than the ice around him.

It was too quiet as he looked down at the world, at the city, at the nearby monster settlement of Bellmare. Sockets dark, Sans questioned idly if he should just go home. Go back to normalcy, or at least the closest version of it he could muster. Or should he return to the group, apparently his group, and continue with their mission? His bones longed for some kind of choice and some kind of movement towards that choice. Yet he remained. The snow stung his feet.

He took a deep breath, and plopped himself down in the mountaintop snow. He let himself fall backward into a frozen cushion and gazed up at the sky until his eye sockets shut automatically, plunging him in a near instance, into nonsensical dreams.

Black clothing melded into starless shadows. A massive waterfall hiding crystals that glowed red and gave the liquid a sinister look. He dreamed of things that were dark and dreary, somber, creepy settings flashing in his mind. His thoughts were sniffing out long-unused pictures and video files previously left to rot for years. He and Papyrus bounding through dimly-lit streets. Mizera by his side in an old, haunted building. Sans viewed through a blurry lens, places and events fit for a cliché horror film.

And his soul ached with a feeling of homesickness.

For years, he and his brother had wondered wordlessly about their origins. They'd reached an understanding of their earliest clear moments, and scarcely mentioned anything prior. He felt a twinge in his soul at the thought of Papyrus, who'd only gotten caught in the crossfire, lost his identity for security's sake. Papyrus had lost his memories too, just to ensure he couldn't help Sans regain his. It wasn't his brother's fault, nor was it his own. But they had taken the blow regardless, all because of some cryptic evil. Frankly, it sucked. Even so…

Just how much did he want to know? These glimpses through time showed him things he'd never expected. Sure, he'd always had a taste for the darker side of life. A few scary movies or books, a bit of harmless fun with a lost human that ended with the lovely sound of farts… Nothing too crazy. Nothing extreme. This, however? The images flashing in and out of his sight were a little much. Just what was Bloodrune like? Was there more reason than the group had told him for the town's residents to stay hidden? All this talk of other realms, summoning things from a Void… He and his sibling…

What were they?

All of it both made sense and didn't, trapping him in a paradoxical loop that woke him from his nap. His soul pulsed harshly, the air cold and sharp in his lungs. Names drifted into his brain, floating up from the depths of jumbled code: Calibri, Arial, Gothic. Sans closed his eye sockets once more and clutched his skull, imitating the noises of a dying whale. He felt as though everything he'd ever known was crashing down on top of him, crushing him beneath the weight of his own existence. Crap. He hated when that happened. Totally ruins a person's mood.

A singular thought broke through the fog like a slap in the face: he'd just used his powers. How had he just used his powers? Standing so quick it made him dizzy, Sans made his way back to the peak's edge. The violet wall still stood, its light shifting about like some kind of lava lamp. It should have disabled his magic. It should have rendered him powerless, and for all intents and purposes, it had. That fight in the diner was proof. The human agent had said something about Siphas' powers. Just how he'd been able to sense it, Sans didn't know. If that was the case however… Did that mean his shortcuts were a byproduct of their last encounter?

Sans turned away, ambling away from the drop as he shook his head. No, no, that couldn't be it. A phantom electricity sparked in his mind, as though all the lag had finally sorted itself out. He paced around as he thought.

Daezl had magic. Oro, Mizera, and Juni had magic. The eldritch being's power may have stayed with them in fragments, but so too had it heightened their control of Earth's less tangible influences. Even if they had arrived outside of the new barriers, the explanation still stood. Mizera had commanded a color and elemental force with ease, and Sans had never sensed any evil presence in the midst of his teleports, never glimpsed a speck of the color like yellow. This time had been an accident, but with the right amount of practice…

The pacing seemed to calm his nerves, and with a clearer skull, he reached out to the threads weaving reality together. It took a bit of concentration, but he made his way back to their campsite with little issue.

It was deserted. He opened up to them, reaching out to let the others know he was back, and sensing only a faint call of distress from somewhere deeper in the woods. He ambled over to his slippers, sliding his feet into them next to what was now a pile of embers. A frozen wind pierced his jacket and reminded him of the inner flame's absence. He placed a hand over his chest, forming a hypotheses for what its issue may be. Shock was the word that came to mind. It was as though a dam had broken, sending a torrent of chaos his way. No wonder he'd needed a little time to breathe.

"'S okay," he told the force.

We're not gonna drown.