Reset: Once Upon a Time

The man's voice, as calm and steady as the falling mist, picked up where it left off. "In the years after Chara's fall… more children came."

The girl sat motionless, cradling the book in her arms. Her silence hadn't changed, but something in her eyes had. Reflection now mingled with sorrow, curiosity with a sense of unshakable weight. What would she have done, had she been the one to fall first? Or second? Or third? That question lingered in her chest like a quiet ache.

"They came one by one," the man continued. "No one knows exactly why. Some say fate drew them. Others say it was guilt—echoing from above. But for whatever reason, they came. Seven in total. Seven souls."

His voice grew heavier, the air around them seemingly thicker with the burden of memory.

"Some were brave. Some were kind. Others were fearful… or angry. The Underground met each of them differently. Some were welcomed. Some… were feared."

A pause. The drizzle seemed to hush.

"One of them," he said slowly, "had a laugh that could light up the Ruins. Another… screamed so loudly when they fell, the echoes still haunt the farthest caverns."

The girl tightened her grip on the book.

"They fought. Not all of them wanted to—but many did. The monsters, driven by desperation, tried to claim the souls. Not all monsters wanted it this way, of course… but fear… grief… it changes people."

His hood shifted slightly as he turned toward her. His face remained unseen.

"Some monsters hesitated. Some cried when they struck. Some ran. Some turned their backs entirely. And those children…never made it out."

The girl's gaze dropped to the damp ground.

"Only one ever did. The seventh. The last. But we'll get to them in time."

He leaned back slightly, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robe.

"You see, the Underground grew colder. Not just in temperature—but in spirit. Hope and despair traded places so often, no one knew what they were fighting for anymore. The king… he was never the same after Asriel. And the queen—"

His voice faltered for the first time.

"She left. Couldn't bear to see another child's blood on the ground."

A long silence.

"Each fallen child left a mark. Some tried to help. Others… made things worse. But with every soul, the barrier weakened. And the monsters grew more desperate."

The girl tilted her head slightly. The man understood.

"Yes," he said softly. "There were good monsters. There were peaceful paths. But peace is difficult when fear looms so large."

He stared into the mist for a long while. Then, almost to himself, he whispered, "They were just children."

Then, louder: "But fate does not distinguish between the innocent and the damned. Not down here."

The girl looked up at him then—her eyes asking, not just what happened next, but why it had to happen at all.

He saw the question and gave no answer.

"Let's take a breath," he said, voice gentle. "The story gets heavier from here."

The man's voice returned, soft and solemn. "Now… let me tell you about the last one. The seventh human."

The girl's gaze lifted slightly. Her fingers remained still on the book's cover, but her shoulders subtly leaned forward.

"The last one was… different," the man began, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe. "They fell like the others, yes. But from the beginning, something was strange. They could see someone the others could not."

His hood shifted subtly with the tilt of his head, but his face remained shrouded in shadow.

"They saw Chara."

The girl flinched, just slightly.

"Not just felt. Not just heard. They saw them. As if they were standing beside them. Guiding them."

He paused for a moment, letting the words settle.

"No one knows how. Perhaps it was their soul. Or the depth of their Determination. But for the first time, Chara wasn't just an echo. They were a presence."

The man's voice grew distant, tinged with something more wistful. "And Chara… responded. They weren't just watching anymore. They spoke. They led. They cared."

He hesitated. "Or at least, they acted like they did."

A flicker of unease passed through the girl's eyes.

"Chara helped them navigate the Ruins. Advised them through puzzles. Warned them of monsters. Even… comforted them. The seventh child thought they had found a friend. A guide. A protector."

He let the rain fill the silence for a beat before continuing.

"And that first encounter… it wasn't easy."

The girl's breath caught slightly.

"They were barely awake when Flowey appeared. That smile… empty. His words, false. He offered help, only to try and steal their soul. But Chara stepped in. Whispered guidance. Urged them to dodge. Survive."

The girl's fingers clenched slightly, imagining the tension of that moment.

"They escaped. And then, came Toriel. Gentle. Kind. A mother in a place that had forgotten warmth. She took the child in. Fed them. Protected them. Cared for them."

The man's voice softened. "And Chara watched. And Chara remembered. A mother once loved them, too."

He sat silent for a beat. "In the quiet moments, when fear had passed and night had fallen… Chara spoke. Not commands. Not orders. Just… questions. Memories. Small things. They began to bond."

The girl looked toward the mist and rain again, quietly absorbing it.

"They chose kindness," the man continued. "Frisk—the child's name—was different. They didn't want to hurt. Not if they didn't have to. And slowly… Chara agreed."

The man's voice dropped into a near-whisper. "So, they took the pacifist path."

He leaned back against the stone again. The hood of his robe cast long shadows, ensuring the mystery of his hidden face never broke.

"Through each puzzle, each trial, they refused to harm. They spared monsters. Listened. Befriended. It was… unusual. Hope returned to the Underground, if only in fragments."

His hand rested gently over his heart. "But not everyone trusted this. And not every trial would be easy."

The girl turned back toward him, curiosity flaring quietly in her eyes.

He nodded slowly. "That's where the tale turns again… and grows heavier still."

A beat of silence passed.