The snow began to fall harder.
Flakes drifted slowly from the sky, swirling in ghostly silence as Frisk walked beneath the trees of Snowdin Forest. The wind bit at their cheeks, but they didn't feel the cold. Only the stillness. Only the weight.
Behind them, Chara walked slower now—dragging her feet through the snow as if reluctant to move forward. Her form flickered like a candle in the wind.
"Why are you still doing this?" she asked once, voice trembling. "You can stop. You can still stop."
Frisk didn't respond.
Ahead, a familiar sound broke the quiet—a pair of growls, soft and low. Dogamy and Dogaressa stepped onto the path, side by side, tails swishing with unspoken tension. They didn't speak right away. They just watched.
"…Something's wrong," Dogamy said slowly. "It smells wrong."
"It's them," Dogaressa whispered. "The human."
Frisk stepped forward.
"Wait—!" Dogamy snarled. "You don't have to—"
But Frisk struck first.
The two fought together, hearts beating as one. Their attacks were swift, coordinated, filled with the desperation of those who knew what had already happened to their home. But they were no match.
Frisk didn't flinch when Dogamy fell, a bark turning into silence.
Chara flinched.
"Don't—please—"
Dogaressa cried out in rage and sorrow as she lunged, but Frisk ended it before she could land the blow.
Only dust remained.
Chara turned away, covering her ears.
She sat down on a fallen log as Frisk stood over the spot where the couple once stood. Her expression was unreadable. Her eyes, however, were full of pain.
"They loved each other," she whispered. "They were happy. Why…?"
Frisk's hands trembled for just a moment.
Just a moment.
They clenched them into fists and moved on.
The rest of Snowdin offered no resistance. Lesser Dogs, Chilldrakes, and other monsters tried to run, to hide—but none escaped. The battles grew quieter, the world colder.
Chara said less with each step. She hovered farther behind, like a shadow not sure it wanted to belong.
At last, the forest thinned. The final bridge loomed ahead—the exit to Waterfall just beyond.
Frisk paused.
There was nothing left in Snowdin.
No monsters. No laughter. No puzzles or friends.
Only bones in the wind.
—
High atop Mt. Ebott, rain still poured in rhythmic sheets. The girl stared into the flames, her eyes wide and glassy. Her hands hovered over the open pages of the book she carried, but she made no move to write.
Her fingers twitched.
The man watched her in silence for a moment before asking gently, "Do you want to stop?"
She hesitated. Then slowly shook her head.
He nodded. "I thought not."
He stirred the fire with a stick, embers dancing in the darkness.
"Some things… are hard to hear. But harder still to forget. Especially when it's written down."
The girl's hands shook slightly. She made a slow, uncertain gesture—two fingers to her lips, then downward, like tears falling.
The man understood.
"She's crying," he said softly. "Even if she doesn't know how to anymore."
He looked toward the mountain's edge, where clouds curled like breath in the rain.
"And the worst part is… the deeper you go, the more you wonder if she's crying for them—or for herself."