Judgment and Malediction

New Home is deathly quiet.

Flowey finds her.

"Howdy, Chara," he says, and a shudder runs through her soul, like a mini earthquake. "You finally made it home. Remember when we used to play here?"

No. Do I - What? she thinks, and she feels a stirring at the back of her mind that sends blind panic coursing through her, adrenaline overwhelming her.

"Hey!" Flowey barks, and there's a shiver, a ripple, in space or time.

"Hee hee hee," he continues. "Boy. Today's gonna be just as fun!"

He disappears, then pops up again, his face now serious. "I remember when I first woke up here, in the garden. I was so scared." He frowns. "I couldn't feel my arms or my legs… My entire body had turned into a flower! 'Mom! Dad! Somebody help me!' I called out."

His mouth twists into a semblance of a grin. "But nobody came."

Flowey pops up at intervals, following her.

In the bedroom, she finds the locket and the knife. She takes them in hands which barely shake anymore. She keeps her head down, avoiding the voice which claims the objects here as her own.

"Eventually, the king found me, crying in the garden," Flowey continued. "I explained what had happened to him. Then he held me, Chara. He held me with tears in his eyes, saying… 'There, there, everything is going to be alright.' He was so … Emotional. But… For some reason… I didn't feel anything at all."

Frisk catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and gasps. Layers of dust cover her, turning her skin pale grey, so she looks one of Gaster's ghosts, a monster. But monster souls are made of kindness and mercy, she thinks blankly, and almost chuckles. It's not that she doesn't feel the pain or murder anymore, it's just that all the death - hers and theirs - has numbed and removed her from it, like third-degree burns which destroy the nerve endings so the damage can only be felt around the wound.

It's me, Chara, says the voice in her head, and she shivers.

Her legs carry her down the stairs. She feels like she is descending into hell, the darkness swallowing her up, the golden fire of the Judgment Hall seeming to glint in the distance.

Flowey waits until she is in the basement corridor. "I soon realized I didn't feel ANYTHING about ANYONE. My compassion had disappeared. And believe me, it wasn't like I wasn't trying."

His eyebrows turn down, his expression becoming angry. How can he have eyebrows? Frisk distantly wonders. "I wasted weeks with that stupid king, vainly hoping I would feel something. But it became too much for me. I ran away from home. Eventually, I reached the ruins."

He smiles. "Inside I found HER, Chara." Frisks feels an intense itching just under her skin, where she can't scratch it. "I thought of all people, SHE could make me feel whole again."

Flowey pauses. "She failed. Ha ha…"

He pops up again. "I realized those two were useless. I became despondent. I just wanted to love someone. I just wanted to care about someone."

Frisk's heart beats against the iron walls containing it.

"Chara, you might not believe this… But I decided… It wasn't worth living anymore."

Frisk's heart breaks free, rending itself with the broken shards of iron. She knows. She knows what that's like.

"Not in a world without love," Flowey is saying, breaking through her grief for him. "Not in a world without you. So… I decided to follow in your footsteps."

Frisk's chest shudders with a sob, but her eyes are empty. No tears come to soothe her.

"I would erase myself from existence. And you know what? I succeeded."

Frisk frowns at this. If he had truly succeeded, shouldn't he be gone, like Gaster? Flowey doesn't notice her confusion.

"But as I left this mortal coil…" Flowey clarifies, "I started to feel apprehensive. If you don't have a soul, what happens when you…? Something primal started to burn inside me. 'No!' I thought. 'I don't want to die!' … Then I woke up. Like it was all just a bad dream."

Frisk remembers that phrase from her fight with Omega Flowey, as she had discovered the creature's name was.

"I was back at the garden. Back at my 'save point.' Interested, I decided to experiment. Again and again, I brought myself to the edge of death. At any point, I could have let this world continue on without me. But as long as I was determined to live… I could go back."

He smiles. "Amazing, isn't it, Chara? I was amazed, too. At first, I used my powers for good. I became 'friends' with everyone. I solved all their problems flawlessly. Their companionship was amusing...For a while."

He frowns. "As time repeated, people proved themselves predictable. What would this person say if I gave them this? What would they do if I said this to them? Once you know the answer, that's it. That's all they are."

"It all started because I was curious," he explains. "Curious what would happen if I killed them. 'I don't like this,' I told myself. 'I'm just doing this because I HAVE to know what happens.' Ha ha ha… What an excuse!"

He grins demonically. "You of all people must know how liberating it is to act this way."

Frisk stares blankly at Flowey, then panic rises within her like acid as the corner of her mouth twitches up without her meaning it to. There is a sensation as if the world jumps around her, time skipping like a broken CD. Frisk finds herself along the main boulevard, out of the basement.

"Nowadays, even that has grown understand, Chara. I've done everything this world has to offer. I've read every book, burned every book. I've won every game, I've lost every game. I've appeased everyone. I've killed everyone. Sets of numbers... lines of dialogue… I've seen them all. But you. YOU'RE different. I never could predict YOU, Chara. When I saw you in the RUINS, I didn't recognize you."

Because I'm not - Frisk stops short of saying the name as her blood runs cold. She senses to do so would be to invite doom on herself and everyone.

Flowey continues, "I thought I could frighten you, then steal your soul. I failed. And when I tried to load my save file… It didn't work. Chara! Your determination! Somehow, it's even greater than mine! I just have one question for you, Chara. How did you get back to the RUINS from here?"

He pauses. "Wait, I know. She must have taken you when she left. And decided to give you a proper burial, rather than…Hanging out in the basement forever."

Frisk draws in a breath of realization, letting it out slowly. Flowey thinks that - they - were also given determination and brought back to life.

The presence in the back of Frisk's mind is growing annoyed.

"...but… why then…? What made you wake up? Did you hear me calling you…?"

Frisk's realization turns to confusion.

"It doesn't matter now. I'm so tired of this, Chara. I'm tired of all these people. I'm tired of all these places. I'm tired of being a flower. Chara. There's just one thing left I want to do."

The presence's impatience grows, but it seems intrigued by this.

"Let's finish what we started. Let's free everyone. Then… let's let them see what humanity is REALLY like. That despite it all, this world is still 'Kill or be killed.' Then…? Well. I had been entertaining a few ways to use that power. Hee hee hee… But seeing you here changed my mind. Chara… I think if you're around… Just living in the surface world doesn't seem so bad. We don't even need to leave to get them this time. The king has six of them locked away. I've tried hundreds of ways to get him to show me them...But he just won't."

Flowey pouts, then says, "Chara… I know he'll do it for you. Why am I telling you all of this? Chara, I said it before. Even after all this time… You're still the only one that understands me. You won't give me any worthless pity! Creatures like us… Wouldn't hesitate to KILL each other if we got in each other's way."

Frisk feels her lips twitch again, again not under her control. Her hands jerk slightly as she tries to raise them to her mouth, but don't cooperate.

"So that's…" Flowey says. "So… that's… Why…"

He starts shaking as Frisk's grin stretches wider than it should be able to, pulling at the muscles of her face.

"...ha… Ha… what's this… feeling? Why am I… Shaking?" He starts to sweat. "Hey ...Chara… no hard feelings about back then, right?"

Frisk begins to raise the knife.

Terror crosses Flowey's face. "H-hey, what are you doing?! B...back off!"

He sinks under the stone, then reappears farther down the road.

"I… I've changed my mind about all this. This isn't a good idea anymore. Y- you should go back, Chara. This place is fine the way it is. S-s-stop making that creepy face! This isn't funny! You've got a SICK sense of humor!"

Frisk throws herself against the foreign control, and in the second's hesitation that creates, Flowey gets away. The presence rages for an instance, then is gone.

She steps into the judgment hall. It looks empty. She saves, then looks around as she steps forward, unease prickling down her neck.

Frisk jumps as she passes beneath the stretching shadow of a pillar and a figure appears before her in the light.

"Sans," she gasps, her heart beating at what feels like twice its normal rate. Pins and needles prickle over every inch of her skin as a kind of electric energy crackles through the air.

"Heya," Sans says. "You've been busy, haven't you? … I have a question for you. Do you think even the worst person can change…? That everyone can be a good person, if they just try?"

Frisk steps forward, gripping the knife so hard that it leaves indents in her palm.

"Heh heh heh heh. Well, here's a better question. Do you want to have a bad time? 'Cause if you take another step forward… You are REALLY not gonna like what happens next."

Frisk takes another step forward, raising the knife slowly above her head.

"Welp. Sorry old lady. This is why I never make promises."

She readies herself to attack.

Light, shining, burning, blinding. Crossing her, around her. Bones. Soul, splitting, pain

That feeling of a returning feeling to a limb where the slightest movement sends shuddering discomfort through every inch of that appendage, but all over her body, without moving, oh god make it STOP

Back in the empty hall, involuntary tears stream from Frisk's eyes, feeling thick as blood. She staggers to her feet, weaving drunkenly as she makes her way down the hall.

"Heya," Sans greets her. "You look frustrated about something. Guess I'm pretty good at my job, huh?"

The attack hits, and Frisk dodges desperately, but still the bones overwhelm her, sending her broken body crashing to the floor as her soul cracks and the shards drive into her head, driving all thought, all emotion, all feeling but pain

Every time she returns, Sans makes a humorous comment on how many times she's died. Her expression hardens. Does he have any idea how it hurts to die? How many different, incredible unendurable forms of pain, until the word doesn't seem like the word and the feeling is both numb and excruciating?

He will.

"Let's just get to the point," Sans finally says, as she returns, shaking as though she has Parkinson's from the adrenaline and the memory of-

Ironically enough, Frisk thinks madly as she dodges sadly (or is it the other way around? Her thoughts are scattering like so much dust on the wind.) if she keeps her soul, it will be at the cost of her soul. How did she not see that before?

"Wh-why?" her voice breaks as she screams, her voice ripping out of some primal part of her soul as she is pushed past the limits of human endurance. "Why did you let me - kill - everyone?"

Sans stumbles. She can see his t-shirt move as he takes a sharp breath, and a tear of blue fire rolls down his cheek. He bellows in anger and sends her crashing into an onslaught of bones coming from all sides. Frisk feels her soul break, yet again. "Lilly, stay determined," the voice says. Oh, but she just wants to give up, fade into darkness. But - she - has - to - SAVE!

The battle fell into a morbid rhythm, her determination bringing her back every time.

Leap. Dodge to the side. Dive through up down side other side attack. "you can't understand how this feels." I can't? "and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore, either." It will, when I bring them back, and never reset again. Attack dodge jump platform oh god blaster "but that's ridiculous, right? yeah, you're the type of person who won't EVER be happy." Not after killing everybody I love. "Survive THIS and I'll show you my special attack."

Death. Over, and over, and over again.

After what must be hundreds of deaths, Frisk falls to her knees as the last blaster dissipates, then slams into the walls and floor and ceiling as Sans throws her around by her soul.

He pants, dripping.

"Huff... puff... all right. That's it. It's time for my special attack. Are you ready? Here goes nothing."

Frisk quivers with anticipation, but nothing happens.

"Yep. That's right. It's literally nothing."

Frisk sighs with relief, though she worries what's going to happen now.

And it's not going to be anything, either. Heh heh heh... ya get it? I know I can't beat you. One of your turns... you're just gonna kill me. So, uh. I've decided... it's not gonna BE your turn. Ever. I'm just gonna keep having MY turn until you give up. Even if it means we have to stand here until the end of time. Capiche?"

"You'll get bored here. If you haven't gotten bored already, I mean. And then, you'll finally quit.

"I know your type. You're, uh, very determined, aren't you? You'll never give up, even if there's, uh... absolutely NO benefit to persevering whatsoever. If i can make that clear. No matter what, you'll just keep going. Not out of any desire for good or evil... but just because you think you can. And because you "can"... ... you "have to".

No, Frisk thinks. I do 'have to'.

But now, you've reached the end. there is nothing left for you now. So, uh, in my personal opinion... the most "determined" thing you can do here? Is to, uh, completely give up. And…" he yawns, "do literally anything else."

Sans yawns again, his eyelids fluttering, As he stands there, he begins to fall asleep.

Frisk waits until he starts to snore, then inches towards her knife. She slashes at him, and he dodges, to her chagrin.

"heh, didja really think you would be able-"

Frisk's arm moves again, of its own accord, slicing Sans across the chest.

"... ... ... so... guess that's it, huh? ... just... don't say i didn't warn you. welp. i'm going to grillby's. papyrus, do you want anything?"

Frisk falls back to her knees, soul quivering, body aching. She still has to fight Asgore. Oh, god.

Get up.

There is danger in the voice in her head, and she obeys. She continues into the throne room.

"Howdy?" Asgore says, turning to greet her. "Erm, what kind of monster are you?"

She steps forward, raising the knife again.

Asgore is pleading, she thinks, but she isn't listening. She steps forward, not moving under her own power, just as she had when she killed Sans. Then one of Flowey's seeds appears, cracking the fragile, shaking soul, stealing her kill…

Anger and worry rush up within her in equal measure, though she isn't sure the anger is her own. Then Flowey appears in front of her, crying, begging for mercy, and she nearly breaks, after everything. Flowey, soulless, heartless Flowey, who can't feel a thing, is cowering in fear of her-

But her arm is moving again, again, slashing him into petals, into pieces, into dust that falls in the lifeless stillness.

Someone that looks very much like her, or how she used to look, in a green sweater with a yellow stripe, appears in front of her.

"Greetings," the girl says, and Frisk recognizes the voice that had spoken in her head with dread, hot, slimy dread that creeps down her spine.

"I am Chara," she continues. "Thank you." Frisk breathes out through reluctant lungs until there is no air left, then gasps. "Your power awakened me from death. My 'human soul'. My 'determination'. They were not mine, but YOURS.

"At first I was so confused. Our plan had failed, hadn't it?" Frisk remembers, suddenly, how she knows the name Chara, as if she had never forgotten them. The first of her kind, the one she had been trying to save as well by bringing back Gaster, her friend. Asriel's sister. One of the ones who had died.

"Why was I brought back to life?" Frisk is confused - she wasn't, really. She is a spectre, feeding off of Frisk's soul, tied to Frisk's fate. Chara seems to sense her confusion, and smiles, though it isn't a reassuring expression on her face. Rather, though for all intents and purposes she looks human, it seems to reflect all of Frisk's sins, a dark mirror in the void.

"... You," Chara says, still grinning. "With your guidance." Tingling anxiety sweeps through Frisk's extremities, and a hard knot forms in her core. "I realized the purpose of my reincarnation. "Power."

Frisk gives a little gasp of horror, and the red spots on Chara's cheekbones pale as her demented smile grows wider.

"Together, we eradicated the enemy and became strong."

"No!" Frisk wants to cry out, but finds to her horror that she is immobilized. She is forced to listen, both appalled and terrified. "HP. ATK. DEF. GOLD. XP. LV. Every time a number increases, that feeling…" she trails off, idly twirling a knife that has appeared in her left hand.

"That's me," she says, looking down at the knife then back up at Frisk. "'Chara'. Now. Now we have reached the absolute. There is nothing left for us here." Frisk tries to struggle, but it is as if she has been paralyzed, as if she has no body and is only a thought, an idea, floating through the emptiness that surrounded them.

"Let us erase this pointless world, and move on to the next."

Suddenly feeling surges back to Frisk. She sees the two paths laid out in front of her clearly.

"Wait," she cries. "That's not what I -"

Chara cuts her off. "No...?" she says, then laughs. "Hmm… How curious. You must have misunderstood. She flies towards Frisk without moving, her eyes and mouth opening into gaping chasms from which black sludge spilled.

"Since when were you the one in control?" her voice thunders earsplittingly, then a hot line of pain opened along Frisk's torso. Her soul bursts, unimaginable

Unendurable

P a i n

Frisk gasps. She is back, not sure if it is of her own will - she was lost to the pain, somehow worse than any death she has ever before suffered. It is as if every death up until that point had merely been a mosquito bite, and this was the full force of mountains thundering down on her soul, her being being unmade.

Already her mind is trying to erase the memory of the death, but it lingers in her body, in the soreness of every aching muscle and joint, in the adrenaline shaking her like a bug in a jar, in the vice-grip of terror remaining around her throat. The feelings rush over her skin in hot and cold waves as she waits.

Finally, Chara's voice returns, though she is nowhere to be seen. "Interesting," she says. "You want to go back. You want to go back to the world you destroyed. It was you who pushed everything to its edge. It was you who..."

Chara suddenly appears in front of Frisk.

"But you know this," she taunts. "You want something. I want something too, but I can wait."

Frisk tries to speak, but finds she cannot.

"Oh, no," Chara smirks. "No need to tell me what it is." Hope would be sparking in Frisk's heart at that, if not for the look on Chara's face.

"You know what?" Chara says. "You amuse me. I'd like to see what you do. You can have your world and your wish, on one condition."

She holds the knife out in front of her suddenly, parallel to Frisk's throat.

"Fight me," Chara says, "And win."

The formless void seems to spin and solidify around them, providing a battleground. Frisk jumps out of the way of Chara's first slash, then responds in kind. Chara grins manically, as her soul starts to glow red.

An unholy halo of red knives forms behind Chara, then swipes forward at Frisk. She barely manages to dive out of the way, when Chara attacks again. Clearly, the normal mechanics of fighting monsters don't apply here.

One of Chara's attacks hits her, and she drops to her knees at its power. It doesn't hurt so much as it rips at her insides, dredging up memories of those she had - she had -

With an inhuman roar she launches herself at Chara, but this time the attack does just a little less damage. She is losing HOPE.

Chara sweeps lines of red knives at her, whole regiments of daggers forming at a wave of her arm. Frisk has only the one, but she pushes Chara vehemently, determined to succeed. Her heart beats fast and loud, his name sounding with each pulse. She remembers why she is doing this.

The knives tear through her, weakening her further. This time, though, it makes her attack stronger. She knows she is dying. She knows if this fight is prolonged she will lose, and she cannot lose. So she pushes her frenzied attack, slashing and stabbing at Chara, whose grin loses its edge. Chara snarls.

Frisk feels her soul starting to fragment, pieces breaking off, seeming to turn to dust in the wind. The memory of the pain of death pushes her as much as anything, and she refuses. She will not die.

Rolling over on the ground, barely avoiding the red dust beam that shouts out from a malformed Gaster Blaster, she eats the last hero left over from her fight with Sans. It doesn't do much good - her maximum HOPE has to be lower even than Sans' - but she persists. Finally she draws a red line across Chara's face, and Chara shoves her back, panting.

"ENOUGH," she barks, and Frisk puts her hands on her knees, sweat dripping down into her face. Chara walks over, grudgingly conjuring up a red flower.

"Take it," she insists, and Frisk takes it. White-hot pain shoots through her wounds, but when it stops and she is able to see again, the wounds have closed.

A few moments later, as her strength returns, Frisk starts to gather her power.

"Ah-ah-ah," Chara says, wagging a finger at her. "You still have something I want, Frisky."

"But I - I beat you. I did what you said. Please," Frisk gasps.

"Oh, that," Chara says, waving her hand dismissively. "Yeah, you can do that thing you want to do now. This is for my cooperation in resetting afterwards."

"No," Frisk whispers, blinking.

"No?" Chara says, grinning a shark-tooth grin. "I'll let you think about that." She disappears.

"Wait!" Frisk calls, but her words echo strangely, as if the echoes coming back aren't really sound.

Frisk decides to use the time before Chara comes back, in case the girl changes her mind.

Frisk gathers all her Love, siphoning the power from the tips of her fingers and toes into her soul. It doesn't come easy. She pulls with every ounce of her strength, sucking it into her core with a feeling like pulling sludge through a straw.

She feels first her heels, then her toes lift off the ground, the pull of gravity shifting to the middle of her chest. Her soul glows red, brighter, until it seems aflame.

And it does burn. Frisk bites her lip at first, trying not to cry out, but it sears, like all the pain of all her own deaths condensed into the few long moments that she hung suspended there. The heat seems almost like ice as it rushes through her, so hot that it numbs everywhere it touches. There is another sensation as well, like a pulling, as even in the darkness the whole void around her seems to rush in towards her.

A form begins to take shape, and as it does, the pain starts to lessen

"Gast-er?" Frisk asks through clenched teeth, her vision blurring.

The form solidifies, and Frisk falls in a heap to the floor, gasping for breath.

A young-sounding voice speaks.

"Young miss, what ails you?"

The haze in her eyes remains, but Frisk can see a skeleton with deeply carved cracks above one eye and below the other, holding glasses on his face with one hand as he bends over her.

"You're Gaster?" Frisk manages, pushing herself up with shaking arms that respond as well as limp noodles. She sits, chest heaving.

"Yes," he says, then, "I see." He tilts his head. "I know what you have done. A valiant, if perhaps not misplaced, effort. I myself am not dead, and I have no more powers of necromancy than any other monster."

"What?" Frisk says, confused, but a weight seems to settle over her chest despite her incomprehension.

"I cannot bring your other friends back," he says, awkwardly and gracelessly kneeling and putting a hand on Frisk's shoulder. "The late prince and princess - Frisk, they are beyond even my considerable talents."

Frisk's shoulders heave again, this time with a sob, torn from her mouth.

"No," she said. "No, no no, you can, you have to -"

"Frisk," Gaster says, trying to sound stern, though his high voice makes it difficult. "You've seen what happened when Alphys tried to bring Prince Asriel back. That is not life."

"But when he had all the souls - there must be some way -"

"There is no way to create souls. Even the godlike power attained by Prince Asriel in his Hyperdeath form could no more manufacture a soul than you or I. So would you kill another, no, many others, to provide a soul for him? Even were a soul readily available, would you exhume Chara's body and inject the corpse with determination, hoping that the process would not create a - excuse my insensitive use of the term - more monstrous being than we could imagine?"

Frisk draws in a breath that does not want to come. "So then-"

"-there is nothing we can do. I'm sorry," Gaster finishes for her.

Even sitting, Gaster towers over her, even taller than Papyrus, and sounding even younger. Somehow, perhaps as shock settles into her system, this fact jumps out at Frisk.

"You seem so - young," Frisk says hesitantly.

"You expected different?" Gaster says, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. "Yes, I am the youngest of -"

"I'm back," Chara interrupts in a sing-song voice, drawing out the second word. "So, what do you say?" Her eyes glint greedily.

"Chara?" Gaster says, turning and using his long legs to push himself to his feet. "What is it that you want?"

"Ah-ah-ah," Chara says, putting on a fake-pouting expression. "That would spoil the fun. No asking, or I'll leave you here again."

"Alright," Frisk says. "You can have - whatever it is that you want."

One corner of Chara's mouth raises high, too high, stretching her face into more of a snarl than a grin.

"Then you'll give me your soul," Chara says.

"No," Gaster breathes, but Frisk knows better than to say anything while she weighed her options.

"Mute now?" Chara frowns, red danger starting to glow in her eyes. "Does the skeleton speak for you?"

"N- The skeleton doesn't speak for me," Frisk says, changing her phrasing mid-word. "This is what it will take for you to allow me to reset?"

"Yes," Chara growls, her lip curling. "The only way."

"Frisk, wait," Gaster jumps forward, reaching for her, but too late.

"Yes," Frisk says, and the void folds in on itself.

Frisk awakens on the bed of flowers. Gaster lies off to the side.

"Gaster," Frisk says urgently. He stirs, then shoots upright.

"The others," he moans. "I could have brought them with us. My friends, Frisk -" he breaks off.

"Could you do it with the power of souls?" Frisk asks, then, as he doesn't respond, barks, "Gaster!"

"Perhaps," Gaster says, scribbling with one finger on his right hand. "It would take - no - eight human souls. Not - not enough - the king has six, and you well know enough that monsterkind only equals one.

"Mine," Frisk says simply, standing. Her hair falls over her eyes.

"And buy the freedom of souls at the expense of another?" Gaster says, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Monsters don't cope easily with being spared at the cost of a life."

"What if I reset afterward?"

"I am bound to the timeline now," Gaster says. "The action would simply be unwritten."

"What about Chara?"

"That is no more than an echo of a soul imposed upon your own," Gaster says, putting his head in his hands.

"We'll figure something out," Frisk says with surety. A dark, sinuous idea twisted through her heart like ink through water. She knew what they could do.