Chapter 19

Darkness swirled in the shadows of the temple gates, and two figures silently emerged into the pitch black night. Moving quickly and quietly, they infiltrated the temple and began working their way towards the acolytes' quarters. Progress was slow, but steady, and they were careful to stay out of sight. After how close Death had come to ending them last time, they were taking no chances.

"To be fair, though," thought Flowey as he followed in Chara's wake, "it's not like I have to be super cautious."

Which was true, sort of. His status as a god, or former god, depending on how you looked at it, meant that he couldn't be perceived by most humans unless he willed it so. His power wasn't strong enough to hide his presence from someone like the temple's high acolyte, who communed with the gods on an almost daily basis, but it was more than sufficient to hide himself from the lower acolytes and other temple workers. And since he had absolutely no intention of running into the high acolyte, or any other mortal with enough soul power to sense him, that shouldn't be a problem.

"Shouldn't" had become one of his least favorite words lately, however. It had been a shock when Flowey realized that human magic truly was capable of sensing his presence, albeit limited to those with strong souls. Only the older and more experienced acolytes, whose souls had benefitted from constant prayer and communion with the gods, had souls powerful enough to allow them to wield magic. Flowey had never realized that humans would be capable of wielding magic, but when he thought about it afterwards, it made sense. Or rather, it made sense that there wasn't any specific reason why they couldn't. Magic came from the soul after all. It had just never occurred to him that anything less than a god's soul would be able to manifest any type of magic. Still, the number of humans that could use magic were few, and those that could exert any kind of control over it were even fewer. The first human that had been able to see him hadn't been able to use any spells. The unfortunate individual in question had possessed enough soul power that it had granted him magical senses, the ability to see things ordinary mortals couldn't, but he hadn't known anything about using magic for practical purposes. It was a shame he'd never have the chance to learn. As soon as Flowey realized he'd been seen, he had reacted with brutal and overwhelming force.

Truth be told, he rather regretted that. The kill had been completely unexpected and unplanned. Furthermore, Death had been hot on their tail and had arrived mere moments after the deed was done. They had barely escaped and had to abandon their mission. Chara had been furious, and hadn't talked to him for over a month. And again, to be fair, she'd been somewhat justified in her anger. Unlike him, she couldn't mask her presence from humans the way a former god could. She always had to keep out of sight, and she had berated him ruthlessly for being careless.

Though now that he thought about it, Flowey wondered exactly why it was that she couldn't veil herself from other humans. She could hide from Death, couldn't she? Why wasn't she able to hide from humans if she could avoid the gaze of the gods? Did her powers grant her magical shielding at the expense of physical vulnerability? Or was it simply because she was still technically human, and therefore she would always be visible to them?

For that matter, where exactly did Chara's powers come from anyway? She had always been special, he knew that better than anyone. She was the first human ever created, and her soul had been the strongest Flowey had ever seen, not including the gods of course. If anyone asked him who could possibly have powers beyond the ordinary, he would have bet on her every time. But her new powers were something beyond any magic a human should be able to wield. They had practiced battle in preparation for the day where they took the fight to the gods directly, and they continued to train at least once a week even now. In all that time, though, Flowey had never won a single one of their training matches, despite being a former god. In skill, ruthlessness, and raw power Chara had outclassed him.

Easily.

Which again begged the question of how she had become so powerful. Flowey was certain it wasn't just by her own will. A human soul could become fairly powerful, but there were limits on how strong a mortal could grow. No, something or someone had given her that power. Something definitely not mortal. Flowey had no idea what though. If it was another god, one who also wanted to rebel against Asgore and the others, Flowey felt sure he would've been introduced by now. Everytime he tried to bring the subject up, however, Chara had shut him down. Shut him down hard and fast. So he was left with no option but to let his imagination fill the gaps.

"Eh, who cares," he thought. "Its not like it matters anyway."

He continued to follow in Chara's wake, admiring the way she went about their task. She radiated an aura of danger, one of concentrated muderous intent. Her face was like stone, with almost no emotion at all. Well, there was one word that came to mind when he thought about how to describe that expression. Flowey smiled. It might be taking longer than either of them ever thought it would, but they would have their revenge sooner or later. He only had to look at that face full of determination to remind himself of that.

Chara herself was unaware of Flowey's thoughts, not that she would have cared about them anyway. Flowey was her partner, but that didn't mean much. She had to admit he was useful, especially when it came to interrogating their victims, but if he ever proved to be more of a liability than an asset to her plan, she would end him without hesitation. She wondered if he realized that?

"He'd better," she thought. "In fact, he's lucky I didn't kill him after that last blunder of his."

Intellectually, she knew that hadn't really been his fault. She had been just as surprised as he had when that acolyte shouted at them, demanding to know who they were. And she had to admit, she approved of Flowey's response. The acolyte's death had been swift, and eliminated the possibility of any other potential witnesses arriving on the scene. Of course, his demise had also brought Death straight to them, and he'd nearly incinerated them both.

Her face tightened in anger, as it always did whenever she thought about the God of Death. If there was one god who needed exterminating, he was the one. Not that she had any intention of stopping there. They would all feel her wrath, but she was saving something special for Death himself. A quick end was far too insufficient for the agony he had inflicted upon her. By the time she was done with him, he would be begging her to end his existence.

She smiled at the thought. That smile faded quickly, however, as she realized they had almost reached their destination. The acolyte's quarters lay before her, paths branching out to individual rooms and offices. She crept among the various buildings until she found the one she was looking for. The temple library was traditionally part of the acolyte's quarters since its resources were intended primarily for the acolytes' use. More importantly, it also served as the residence of the acolyte serving as the temple's librarian, who often doubled as the historian.

She saw the flickering light of a candle shining through the window of the bedroom located on the upper floor of the building, and that smile returned to her face, only now it was much broader than before.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she thought.

The librarian in question was named Morgan, and she was finishing her preparations for bed. She sat down on the edge of her bed and let out a deep sigh. It hadn't exactly been a busy day, but it hadn't been completely relaxing either. At least she didn't have to sit through another speech about safety precautions and temple security again. The attacks on acolytes that had happened about a year ago had shocked the temple communities. Never before in human history had temple acolytes been murdered, assassinated really, on the sacred grounds of the temples themselves. Accidental deaths, sickness, and the occasional incident where someone went missing, yes. Murders, however, had been unheard of. Despite the fact that many people no longer held the gods in high regard, people still gave the established temples a significant amount of respect. Even those that disagreed with the temple's doctrine had admitted that the services provided by the acolytes were beneficial to the communities they lived in. Outright violence against those in the temple's service had always been avoided, especially with the practice of magic becoming more common among the ranks of the clergy. Morgan had seen what some of the senior acolytes were capable of, and she was certain that no potential assassin wanted to draw their ire down upon them.

"Not that I'm a slouch myself," she thought contentedly. Magic had always fascinated her, and she honed her skills daily. In fact, she was due to be elevated to an upper-acolyte soon, and she was planning on joining the Order of Gaster when it happened. The God of Magic's order had only recently been established, as it became clear that more and more humans were capable of using magic. She had communed with the mysterious god a handful of times herself, and she treasured the insights he had provided her with. Her skills had grown by leaps and bounds, and she was determined to reach the heights of her ability.

"Who knows?" she thought. "Maybe one day I'll become Grandmaster of the Order! Wouldn't that be nice?"

She chuckled to herself and leaned over to blow out the candle on her beside table. She inhaled, and then stopped halfway. She darted her gaze over to her bedroom's door. Something didn't feel right. Did she hear something?

A feeling of unease crept into her as she slowly stood up. She took two steps towards the door, and then it disappeared as a miniature explosion tore it to pieces. She let a cry of surprise, but she also threw her hands forward in the same instant, calling forth her magic on instinct. A shield of green energy formed a dome around her, just in time to intercept about a dozen thorny vines shooting at her from the hallway. The vines bounced away from their impact with the shield, but they contorted and came swinging back around to strike at her again and again. After what seemed like an eternity, they suddenly stopped and retreated back into the darkness beyond the ruined door.

She slowly lowered her arms and let the shield dissipate, but she kept her guard up and her magic ready. She was contemplating what kind of offensive spell she should use if her attacker tried again when she heard a voice drifting in from the shadows.

"Well, well, well," the voice said. Morgan's eyes narrowed in suspicion upon hearing it. That voice sounded absurdly young, almost like the voice of a child. The thoughts racing through her mind came to a halt as someone stepped out of the darkness. A small girl wearing a simple black robe stood in the doorway. There was a sly grin on her face, and malevolence lurked in her eyes. She was definitely a child, yet her expression seemed far older. Specifically, it seemed like an adult staring at young delinquent who didn't realize how much trouble they were about to be in.

"What do we have here?" she said.