UT: Unbound Souls

When Vance woke the next day, an odd sensation washed over him. Though his sleep had been restful, his mind felt strangely weary, as though it had run a marathon in his dreams. He groaned softly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His body felt heavier than usual as if burdened by an unseen weight, yet deep within, his soul pulsed with an unfamiliar strength. The sensation was puzzling, though he couldn't quite put it into words.

Unbeknownst to him, two faint presences hovered silently behind him. They were almost imperceptible, their forms weak and fragile, tethered to him in a way neither could yet explain. One was Chara, the first fallen human, who bore an enigmatic smile. The other was Nina, a girl with a solemn demeanor and a tattered dress, the previous holder of the Patience Soul. Nina had perished long ago in the ruins, succumbing to hunger and attacks from enraged monsters. She had been the first human to fall after Chara's death, a time when monsterkind's grief over Asriel's loss had twisted into hatred for humanity. Neither spirit had the strength to speak or make themselves known yet, their fragile existence was a quiet echo in the room.

Stretching with a groggy yawn, Vance swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet brushing against the cool floor. His gaze drifted around the room, landing on a neatly placed pie and a folded note on the floor near the door. Curious, he shuffled over and picked up the note, recognizing Toriel's elegant handwriting:

Good morning, my child. I had to leave early today to gather ingredients from my home, as I wasn't expecting a guest to stay. Please help yourself to the pie. One more thing: I must insist that you do not venture into the basement. It is dangerous and not a place you should enter. Be safe and rest well until I return.

Vance's heart sank slightly as he read the last part. He already knew, thanks to his knowledge of Undertale, that the basement led to Snowdin—the path out of the ruins. Still, Toriel's warmth and care had struck a chord with him. Her presence reminded him of his mother from his previous life, stirring a deep longing in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was just fear of the unknown or a genuine desire to stay in the comfort of her home, but something held him back from the idea of leaving.

He picked up the pie and returned to the bed, savoring its sweetness as he pondered his next move. The taste brought a brief smile to his face, momentarily pushing away his worries. It was the kind of comfort food that felt like a hug, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply enjoy it.

As he finished eating, his eyes wandered to the desk where he'd placed the toy knife and faded ribbon he'd found in the ruins. Something about them seemed different. Setting the plate aside, he walked over and picked up the ribbon, examining it closely. The fabric seemed smoother, the colors more vibrant. The knife, too, had lost its dulled, worn appearance and now gleamed faintly, as though polished.

"I could've sworn this looked way older before," Vance murmured, turning the items over in his hands. "Was it just the dust that made them seem worn out?"

The changes unsettled him, though he couldn't pinpoint why. He placed the items back on the desk and returned to the bed, his thoughts swirling. His soul, which had been flickering faintly with a golden hue, began to shift. The vibrant gold dimmed, giving way to a muted silver. His thoughts grew heavier, filled with doubts and memories he'd tried to suppress. The warmth of Toriel's home clashed with the fear and uncertainty he'd felt since arriving in the Underground.

Unseen by Vance, the room was not as empty as it seemed. Just behind him, faint flickers of light shimmered in the dimness, the beginnings of fragile forms that had taken shape during the night. As Vance's gaze lingered on the changed knife and ribbon, an echo of memory stirred in one of these spectral figures—a girl's quiet realization of her connection to the objects. Her thoughts were fragmented, like shards of a broken mirror, but they were enough to stir a conversation in the quiet void where she and the other presence existed.

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The Previous Night

The night before, as the world around Vance grew silent and still, Nina's awareness had begun to coalesce. At first, it was little more than a vague sensation of warmth, a tether pulling her from the emptiness she had long existed in. Slowly, fragments of her being reassembled: her name, her final moments, and the overwhelming despair she had carried to the end.

"Where... am I?" she murmured, her voice hesitant and trembling.

"You're here now," a second voice replied, sharper and clearer. It came from a faint presence nearby, its tone carrying a strange mix of detachment and intrigue.

Nina turned—or at least she thought she did, her formless state making movement feel strange and unfamiliar. The other figure was more defined, its expression unreadable but vaguely curious. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"That's a question with too many answers," the figure replied cryptically. "But I think the real question is: who are you?"

"Nina," she murmured, clutching instinctively at her ethereal form. "That's... that's all I remember. My name is Nina."

The other presence regarded her silently for a moment, as though weighing her words. "And what else? How did you end up here?"

Nina hesitated the pain of her final moments pressing against the fragile boundaries of her being. "I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I remember falling. The Ruins... and then... I was attacked. The monsters—they hated me. They didn't even listen. I... I didn't understand why." Her form flickered weakly as she spoke, the memories overwhelming her. "I was so scared. And so... hungry."

The other figure tilted its head slightly, its faint outline glowing with an eerie light. "I see," it said, voice quieter now. "So you were just... unlucky."

Nina looked down, her ethereal form flickering as fragmented memories stirred within her. "I don't even know why I'm here now," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Everything went dark after... after I died. But before I woke up here, it wasn't like I was completely gone."

The other presence narrowed its gaze slightly, curious. "What do you mean?"

Nina hesitated, trying to piece together the disjointed sensations she had carried with her. "It's hard to explain. For a long time... I felt like I was asleep. My consciousness was somewhere else—somewhere far away, quiet and cold. It felt like I was trapped near something... a barrier of sorts. I didn't really understand it then. I didn't even have full awareness. It was like... like I was only a fragment of myself, barely holding on."

The figure tilted its head. "And yet, here you are now. So, what changed?"

"I... I don't know exactly," Nina admitted, her voice softening as the memories became clearer. "But at some point, I felt something... calling to me. It was faint at first, but it grew stronger, pulling me from that place. There was this... bond. A connection to something I couldn't remember but felt familiar. It called to me so deeply that I couldn't ignore it. It was as though it was tied to who I was—who I used to be."

The figure's gaze shifted briefly toward the sleeping Vance. "What was it?"

Nina's form flickered, and she instinctively glanced toward the desk where the toy knife and faded ribbon now rested. "It was those," she whispered, her voice tinged with wonder. "The knife and the ribbon. I don't know why, but I feel like they were important to me—like they were part of my past. They're... tied to something I've forgotten, something precious." Her form dimmed slightly as she struggled with the gaps in her memory. "When their presence mixed with that strange power coming from him... I think it summoned me. It pulled me away from that quiet place and gave me strength again."

The other presence regarded her for a long moment, its expression unreadable. "So, you were drawn here by fragments of your past and his power," it mused, its tone both thoughtful and detached. "Interesting. That makes you different."

Nina's gaze lowered, uncertainty clouding her expression. "But I don't understand why. Why me? Why now? What is this power, and what does it want from me?"

"That's something you'll have to figure out," the figure replied, its voice sharp but not unkind. "The only thing that's certain is that you're here because of him. Whether that's a blessing or a curse... well, time will tell."

Nina's expression twisted in confusion. "But... why? I don't even know him."

"That doesn't matter," the other replied, its tone edged with knowing detachment. "What matters is that you're here, and you're not fading anymore." It hovered closer, its form faint but undeniably present. "And if I were you, I'd figure out why... before it's too late."

Nina's form flickered again, her mind still tangled in the strange pull of the items and the overwhelming power that had awakened her. Though she felt stronger, a deep sense of unease lingered. She glanced at the sleeping boy, unaware of the silent presence of two souls that now hovered behind him. "I just... I hope I can remember," she murmured. "I hope I can figure out why I'm here."

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Chara and Nina's Pov

As the memories of the previous night faded into silence, the present day returned with an almost jarring clarity. Chara hovered near the bed, her presence just a faint shimmer of light, watching as Vance picked up the ribbon and knife from the desk, examining them closely. His puzzled expression was clear, though he muttered his thoughts only loud enough for himself.

"I could've sworn these looked way older before," Vance murmured, turning the items over in his hands. "Was it just the dust?"

Chara's attention, however, was elsewhere. She drifted lazily, her faint form flickering with each passing moment, her gaze fixed on the pie plate sitting beside Vance's bed. She leaned in slightly, her expression wistful.

"Pie, huh?" she muttered to herself, her voice a quiet echo in the air. "I can't even remember the last time I ate anything… if I ever did." Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head, trying to grasp at fleeting fragments of memory. "Chocolate," she said suddenly, a small grin creeping onto her face. "I think I liked chocolate. Or at least, I think I would have. But what is it, really? It's just... sweet, right? Or is it more than that?" She groaned softly, rubbing her temples in frustration. "Ugh, this is annoying."

Nina, who had been silently floating closer to the desk where her items lay, glanced toward Chara. The other soul's musings were far removed from her own concerns. The sight of her ribbon and knife, still clasped in Vance's hands, filled her with a strange sense of longing and familiarity. She drifted closer, her form glowing faintly as she focused on the objects.

"Those," Nina said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're important to me... but why? I don't understand it. They feel like pieces of something I've lost, but the memories won't come back. It's like trying to grab smoke."

Chara gave her a sidelong glance, her grin fading slightly. "Well, you're lucky you even feel a connection to something," she said, her tone dry. "I don't have anything like that. Just... vague flashes and this weird pull toward him." She gestured vaguely toward Vance. "Whatever's going on, he's at the center of it."

Nina nodded, her gaze lingering on Vance as he placed the ribbon and knife back on the desk with a thoughtful expression. "I think... whatever brought us here is tied to him, but also to what he carries." Her form flickered as she struggled with the thought. "Maybe... maybe it's his soul. It feels so... powerful. Like it's calling out."

Chara snorted softly, crossing her arms. "Or maybe he's just a magnet for trouble," she quipped. Her gaze drifted back to the pie plate, her smirk returning. "Either way, I still want pie. Or chocolate. Or chocolate pie." She sighed, her expression softening as she stared longingly at the remnants of the dessert. "Not that I can taste it anyway. But hey, a girl can dream, right?"

Vance, still unaware of the two ghosts floating behind him, stretched with a groan and reached for the pie plate. As he moved to place it on the desk, a faint shiver ran down his spine, though he couldn't pinpoint why. The weight of their unseen presence lingered, quietly shaping the world around him in ways he couldn't yet understand.

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Back to Vance's Pov

Vance let out a soft sigh as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze lingering on the pie plate and the ribbon and knife on the desk. He felt torn between staying put and being patient, waiting for Toriel to return, and the growing sense of restlessness that gnawed at him. The air in the room was calm, but the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on his mind. He glanced toward the door, still unsure whether to venture out into the unknown.

I should wait for Toriel to come back, he thought, sinking deeper into his internal debate. She's been so kind to me. Leaving without telling her would be rude. And... it's not like I know what's out there. What if it's not safe?

Deep down, Vance knew the ruins couldn't be his permanent home. The memories of his previous life, of a family he had once known and lost, hovered in his thoughts like shadows he couldn't shake. Toriel's kindness reminded him of the warmth he had lost, and the idea of leaving it behind, even for his safety, felt difficult to bear.

Time seemed to slow as Vance sat in the quiet room, the hours stretching into an unspoken lull. When boredom finally began to take hold, a new curiosity sparked within him. He couldn't just sit here all day, not with his mind so full of questions and doubts.

Vance stood up, stretching his arms and walking toward the door. Maybe a bit of exploration would distract him from the swirling emotions inside him. He slowly pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway. The house was large but cozy, with warm, earth-toned walls that made it feel like a home. There was a calmness to it, yet there were still so many corners he hadn't yet explored.

He made his way down the hall, passing by several rooms that were locked or otherwise out of reach. Finally, he stopped in front of a door at the end of the corridor—Toriel's room. He hesitated for a moment, then quietly pushed the door open, curiosity getting the best of him.

Toriel's room was just as comforting as the rest of the house, filled with soft lighting, shelves stacked with books, and knick-knacks scattered about. The room felt lived in, a place where someone cherished their space. His eyes scanned over the room until they landed on a small wooden desk, covered in papers, books, and a few other personal items.

There, in the middle of the desk, was a diary. Vance hesitated for a moment before walking over and gently picking it up. He ran his fingers over the cover, feeling the textured surface, and noticed the familiar feel of it—Toriel's handwriting was distinctive, her elegant script displayed clearly on the first page. As he flipped through the pages, a few things caught his attention.

The diary, filled with her personal thoughts, seemed to offer an odd combination of wisdom and humor. Most interestingly, though, were the pages filled with what appeared to be puns—jokes and notes that seemed to echo a certain character's playful nature. This... this seems like something Sans would write, Vance thought with a small smile. In the game, Toriel's diary was littered with jokes that could only have come from the master of humor himself. Was it possible that Sans had already been in contact with Toriel by this point? Vance couldn't be sure, but the idea of the lazy skeleton popping in for a visit seemed all too familiar.

One page, in particular, stood out. It was a page filled with jokes—silly puns and playful quips, each one more ridiculous than the last:

"Did you hear about the skeleton who won the lottery? He was bone to be rich!"

"What do you call a skeleton who tells bad jokes? A punderful guy!"

Vance realized. The playful connection between the two seemed natural, like two old friends sharing a quiet moment of humor. Could Sans already have been visiting her? Or was it simply her way of filling the silence with something familiar and comforting?

Vance smiled softly, his heart warming at the thought. He hadn't expected Toriel to be so... human in her own way. Despite her kindness and her more maternal nature, she still had the same quirky sense of humor that he'd come to know in the game.

Just as Vance was about to close the diary, something caught his eye. A faint glimmer of light flickered from the corner of the room. He turned his head quickly, half-expecting to see Toriel returning, but the room was still empty. The glimmer, however, persisted—coming from a crack in the wall, near a small shelf of old books.

Drawn by the unusual light, Vance moved toward the shelf and inspected the crack. It wasn't large, but it looked like it could be a secret opening, hidden from plain sight. His heart began to race, a sense of anticipation building within him. Could this be a passageway to something else? Something Toriel had hidden away and something not was told in the game?

He ran his fingers along the edge of the crack, pushing gently until he heard a soft click. The wall shifted slightly, revealing a narrow opening. Vance's eyes widened. What had Toriel kept hidden? Was it something important? Or was it just another mystery he'd have to uncover?

He couldn't resist. With a quick glance toward the door, he slipped through the small opening, stepping into whatever lay beyond.