The snow thickened as Frisk followed Papyrus through the forest. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches heavy with frost, arching overhead in an endless tunnel of white. It should have felt magical — it had, once.
Now, every step was a retracing of old bloodstains.
Papyrus marched ahead, scarf streaming behind him, his usual boundless energy cutting through the gloom. "WE'RE ALMOST THERE, HUMAN! THE FINAL AND MOST CHALLENGING PUZZLE OF ALL!"
His voice rang out, too bright against the hush of falling snow.
Frisk's stomach twisted.
He remembered this.
The snow-covered field ahead, the strange array of colored tiles.
Papyrus' enthusiastic instructions.
And — in another life — the moment his bones shattered, crumpling beneath Frisk's blade.
Frisk's hands curled into fists inside his sleeves.
"Why so tense?"
Chara's voice was close again, like someone breathing against the back of his neck.
"You know how this goes. You could end it. One strike, and no one would stop you. Not this time. Not ever."
Frisk didn't answer. He kept walking.
The puzzle loomed ahead, a ridiculous grid of colored panels half-buried under fresh snow. Papyrus bounced in place.
"BEHOLD, HUMAN! THE FINAL TEST OF INTELLIGENCE, WIT, AND ATHLETICISM!"
He pointed dramatically at the grid.
"SOLVE THIS, AND YOU SHALL BE ONE STEP CLOSER TO FRIENDSHIP WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"
Frisk forced a smile.
The snow felt heavier on his shoulders.
Papyrus launched into an explanation — red tiles this, blue tiles that, water tiles, spikes. His voice was animated, but somewhere behind it, something cracked.
A flicker in his socket.
A momentary stumble in his words.
Frisk's heart stuttered.
For a breathless instant, it felt like Papyrus remembered.
The blood. The pleading. The final, defiant words.
"I STILL… BELIEVE IN YOU…"
And then it was gone.
Papyrus threw his arms up.
"AND NOW… BEGIN!"
The puzzle whirred.
The grid reset itself.
And then, without warning, the tiles sparked and malfunctioned, short-circuiting into uselessness.
Just like before.
Papyrus laughed, rubbing the back of his skull.
"OH… WHOOPS! I GUESS IT'S NOT AS FUNCTIONAL AS I THOUGHT…"
Frisk swallowed hard.
"He's still smiling," Chara whispered. "Even though knows nothing. That's what makes it worse."
—
The snow fell. The world felt quieter.
Papyrus waved a hand.
"WELL, NO MATTER! WE SHALL CONTINUE TO SNOWDIN TOWN! ONWARD, HUMAN!"
He turned and jogged ahead, leaving Frisk standing alone by the broken puzzle grid.
For a moment, Frisk hesitated.
He looked down at the snow where, in another life, crimson had soaked into white.
He wasn't sure if it was his memory —
or if the faintest shadow of red still lingered.
"You can't change it," Chara sang softly. "No matter how you play pretend."
Frisk pressed on.
—
Atop Mt. Ebott, the girl stirred.
The fire cracked sharply, sending up a flurry of sparks.
The man's voice had gone quiet for a time.
The girl's hand lifted, a trembling gesture toward the flame — a single, uncertain motion as if asking: Is this where it happens?
The man nodded, his hood still low.
"Yeah," he murmured. "It's close now."
The rain kept falling.