Casting Rain -- Ch 63

Important announcement guys! I actually have music for this chapter! We have two songs!

The first is "Gaster's Finale" by Amella on Youtube, and the start for this song will by signaled by (*)
Be aware that the youtube version of the song has some Gaster vocaloid sound effects? But in the video description, the composer has alternative links provided with versions of the song minus the vocaloid portions. They're not very intrusive anyway though, so you should be fine listening with or without. It won't change the experience any!

The second song is "Genesis - Orchestral Medly" by Manic Pixel, and the start of that song will be signaled with (^)

I chose these songs for loop/replay value first, and cinema second, so they should work well with however fast/slow your reading speed is! Or at least, better than some of the previous choices.

    Honestly? Grillby would’ve been much more impressed if the complex were made of stone. As it stood now, he was sure he could take it himself. The fortress was perfect for him. When he looked at it, all he saw was tinder and tar. Fuel. Fire. A spark waiting to happen. Another piece of the world waiting to be devoured. They might as well be asking him, him personally to come and tear it apart, to set his sparks across every beam and scrap of canvas. It was an open invitation. A challenge. Grillby was more than ready to accept it.

    Granted, that was easy for him to feel when he was here, just steps away from the largest wall of flame the world had ever seen, where his very essence and life force arced and danced just as boundlessly as it destroyed. He felt powerful here, and strangely infinite. More than that, even. He felt chaotic. He felt perfect.

    That would change as soon as he was far enough away from the wall. That would change when he was on the humans’ terms instead of his own.

    Gods it was infuriating. He wished so badly that the fortress itself was sitting in the middle of the forest. He was frustrated beyond thought that the woods had been cleared for such a distance around it so it could be made. If he only had something to burn, he could wash the whole thing away right now. Instead all there was around the place was open ground and tall grass, brittle and mostly dead from frost and snow. The fire might be able to burn its way across to the towering structure, but it wouldn’t be nearly as consuming as it would need to be to just wipe the place off the map. That was probably for the best. A wall of flame like that would be impossible to control. Grillby would probably kill every monster the humans were holding captive.

    Just passing through the wall Grillby had already made had been exhausting enough. Looking up at it for the first time had been awesome and terrifying, and doubly so when the ghost, Ker, had told him they had to go through it to find Gaster. The monsters following Grillby had almost turned and given up then. Grillby himself had balked at it. He thought for sure he’d step inside the impossibly high wall of flame as it clawed at the sky and be lost completely to it, like a small stone might be pulled and tossed and crushed by a rockslide. But instead he’d reached and stretched with his magic, whispering and then speaking and finally ordering, and the waves of flame parted for him to pass through. Parted for his monsters to pass through as well, though it was an effort to keep a safe haven for them as they walked.

    The walk itself had been nearly maddening. Grillby hadn’t expected the blaze to have a presence. He’d expected it to be dumb and listless, like some gigantic campfire. What he was met with instead was something wretched and screaming, a flame that wailed and resisted and tore relentlessly at everything it touched. And he wasn’t the only one that heard it. The monsters around him could hear it too, the screams in the fire. The anguish. Though Grillby supposed he should’ve expected this. He’d screamed until his throat was broken when he made it, and every breath of the agonized smoke he breathed in awakened an ache in his throat like the persistent bruising of a scarred-over wound. He welcomed it though, swallowed hard past the sting and let it add to the feeling of ice and steel in his chest.

    He was going to get Gaster back or die trying, and he scowled at the imposing structure that hoped to keep that from happening.

    “Still brooding, hero?”

    Grillby didn’t bother looking over as Thetis approached to stand beside him, “You should just let me go.”

    “Aye sure,” Thetis hummed, feigning pleasantry, “Except last time I checked, you had trouble taking on one mage by your lonesome.”

    Grillby flickered a scowl.

    “And if Ker is right, there could be five in there. I don’t fancy your odds,” Thetis offered him a vicious sort of smile, “Though I do hear some humans find that chivalrous suicide shtick romantic.”

    “Don’t,” the elemental groaned, hissing out a bitter breath of smoke, “I’m following your stupid plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

    “Ha! Stupid plan,” Thetis sneered, though there was humor in her eyes when she did, “I’m one of the best strategists this kingdom has ever seen. You’re lucky to have me along.”

    Grillby paused, letting that statement sink in more than Thetis had probably meant for it to, “You’re right. I am lucky to have you - and grateful.”

    He shot her a sideways glance, “You didn’t have to come.”

    This seemed to derail her a bit. All the humor dropped out of Thetis’ expression, replaced by a tentative sort of bemusement - and then scorn as she tried to shake off the feeling of somber that had settled over them.

    “Aye well… don't get all sentimental,” she huffed, ear frills twitching, “You'd just make an ugly pile of dust is all.”

    “Of course,” Grillby said with a mild laugh.

    “Awww you’re bonding!” Grillby gave a start at the explosion of shrill laughter right behind his shoulder. He turned to flash Ker a hearty glare, “Isn’t that just adorable?”

    “How long have you been back?” Grillby demanded with a scowl.

    “Relax sparks, I literally just got here,” Ker grinned, before pointedly turning to Thetis - ignoring the angrily sparking elemental, “Looks like they’re digging in to fight the fire off. They’ve started dousing all the walls with water.”

    Grillby couldn’t stop a contempt-filled bark of a laugh. Let them try to stop what was coming.

    “Did you manage to get a count on the mages?” Thetis asked, tilting her head in the direction of the fortress, as if she could discern all the squirming ant-like shapes for herself from where she stood so far away. They were mostly just crawling blurs to Grillby, especially from this distance.

    “I saw one, the girl that’s throwing water everywhere,” Ker reported dutifully, “But I know there’s at least one more. She wasn’t holding the barrier up.”

    Thetis flashed Grillby a dubious look, “Think you can handle a pair of mages?”

    Grillby’s first reflex was to scream yes and insist they get moving. They were right here. They were so close. Did it really matter if he could do this or not? He was committed. He was willing to risk his life for this. Though for the sake of the other monsters here… he supposed he should be honest.

    Grillby hissed out a long sigh, his bitter scowl lending its color to the flame of the wall behind him, “Depends on if they see me coming.”

    He paused and then added, “But you said you could deal with that.”

    “I did,” Thetis nodded, “Alright, let’s get this moving then. Ker, get in his armor.”

    “You are so going to die, sparks,” Ker laughed, but he did as he was told. Grillby felt a noticeable chill pass through him, uncomfortable and stinging against the heat of his flame. But it was a necessary evil he was going to have to bear. He couldn’t understand the human language, and he had no idea how to tell if a mage was holding up a barrier. Ker did. He’d need the ghost as a guide, if for nothing else.

    Then Thetis moved, the air shimmering with her magic as she hummed some song underneath her breath. She paced around Grillby in slow circles, weaving together some magic he couldn’t see. The feel of it as it settled over him was stifling, as if a weight was being pressed down on his shoulders, and it grew with each circle she walked around him. It pressed and prodded, set an uncomfortable color of green sparking through him. But eventually it was done, and like smoke the feeling of the closeness of the spell vanished.

    Grillby looked down at himself - he didn’t see anything different. But it wasn’t his sight that needed twisting.

    “Did it work?” Grillby asked, watching Thetis carefully as the monster stepped back to examine her work. She smirked.

    “Aye sure did, fair enough anyway,” she hummed smugly, obviously impressed with herself, “You make a fine looking human.”

    A feeling of gross and bitter contempt curled its way through his soul and it took an effort to swallow it down. Just the thought made him want to tear the illusion off like a second skin.

    “Alright,” Thetis snapped, her voice lilting into something sterner, “Stick with the plan. Take the barrier down and look for Gaster after. Once it’s gone, the rest of us will make sure you’ve got an escape route. And be fast for the gods’ sakes! Even if you catch ‘em off guard the humans will give you trouble.”

    Grillby nodded.

    “And for the illusion,” Thetis continued warningly, “It’s a mighty fragile thing once I’m not here beside you. Keep your heat low and don’t draw attention to yourself. Any killing intent and it’ll break apart like dandelion fluff. Know for sure you’ve got the right mage before you go setting things on fire.”

    “Alright,” Grillby snapped impatiently. He could feel his restlessness crawling against his core like an itch and it was getting unbearable. He needed to go. Let him go.

    Thetis sighed at him, ear frills pulling down as she frowned, soft and worried, “Don’t do anything rash lad. You’re our only way out of this. Your Ruke can’t freeze off this firestorm of yours.”

    Yes, he knew that, and honestly Grillby could care less about all this nonsense she was telling him now. They were wasting time just standing here talking. Time that Gaster could be found - time he could be safe. He tried not to outwardly fidget the longer she kept him there, and when she finally dismissed him, he had to make an effort not to break into a run. To go sprinting away straight up to the fortress doors. He wasn’t allowed to do that. He needed tact. He needed to stick to Thetis’s plan. It was his best chance of getting through the next few hours alive - even if it was a maddening process to follow.

    Which also meant bearing through Ker and his annoying taunts as they walked. The ghost directed him, snapping orders that Grillby was supposed to follow unquestioningly.

    “Alright hothead, you’re gonna follow the wall here until it gets close to the main road.”

    “Wait wait until those humans pass. You’ll let ‘em know something’s up if you just walk out of the fire, dumbass.”

    “For the love of god would you pretend you know what you’re doing?”

    And of course, every time Grillby tried to talk, Ker shushed him. Because it would look so strange to see someone babbling to himself with two completely different sounding voices. So fine. Grillby scowled and walked, toting around his little parasite and listening as he whispered criticisms whenever Grillby stepped the wrong way. The closer they got to the fortress walls, the quieter Ker got. The more restless Grillby felt, and the more worried, because it was… a lot more imposing now that he was standing in the massive structure’s shadow. It was all wood and rope and tar, thrown together from the massive stretch of trees that used to huddle in the valley. And the barrier… Grillby shuddered when he passed through it, watched the light warp and tug against his soul as if it knew he wasn’t what he was pretending to be.

    But no humans pointed and screamed when he walked in so… obviously Thetis’s illusion was still holding.

    Humans. They were humans everywhere. Which Grillby expected, but it was still nerve-wracking just standing amongst them, and strange to see them when they weren’t waving weapons in his direction. Most of them were scrambling around, trying to prepare for the coming fire. Water was being thrown across anything of value, and in the cold air much of it threatened to freeze into ice before it could soak properly into the wood. It would be a problem to light, but once lit it would still burn. That was... good. Oh… gods.

    For the first time since going on this harebrained adventure, Grillby was starting to doubt whether he could… actually… do this. There were humans everywhere. Gods, they probably outnumbered his own monsters two to one, maybe more than that, and among them were probably mages. The place was huge and sprawling, towering and confusing. There were tents everywhere. How long would it take to even find Gaster? Where would they even begin to look?

    Grillby already missed the comfort of that blazing wall that now seemed terribly far away.

    “Okay sparks, find a corner,” Ker whispered - a sound that seemed to echo from every nook and cranny of Grillby’s armor, tinny and resonant, “Preferably one with nobody standing in it.”

    Feeling very much like a candle flickering in the shadow of some giant, Grillby complied. He managed to find a space near the outside wall, hiding behind a pair of tents that in the rush of the day had been abandoned. His whole body shuddered when Ker disentangled himself from his armor.

    “I did not miss this place,” Ker scowled, looking at the world around him, his voice sounding the oddest mix of excited and bitter, “I was trapped here for months. Can you even believe it?”

    “Shouldn’t you fly a little lower?” Grillby asked, cringing further back into his corner, “Before someone sounds an alarm?”

    “Relax hothead,” Ker’s face split into a grin, “Humans aren’t like monsters. Most of them can’t even see me.”

    Without warning, the ghost suddenly went swooping away, laughing at the obvious panic on Grillby’s face as he wove in and out between a group of humans walking by. He even passed through one of them, eliciting a shiver, but no real recognition. Ker darted back over to Grillby, laughing.

    “Wow you’re an excitable one. What, didn’t believe me?” he teased, voice ecstatic, “Mostly only mages can see us, and a few other weird humans. I can count on a hand how many times I’ve actually been spotted. It’s great, being almost completely ignored by literally half the creatures on the planet.”

    Ker gave a tense sort of sigh, as if the whole thing was frustrating to him. All Grillby could manage was a scowl in return.

    “Okay, so here’s how this works, sparks,” Ker snapped, seeming to suddenly remember why they were here, “You stay here in your little corner and wait for me to get back. We’ll find your stupid mage and tear this barrier down, and then we’ll go find your boyfriend - heh, if he’s even alive.”

    “Wait,” Grillby frowned, “How do you know which human has the barrier?”

    “Oh no, I’m not telling you that!” Ker piped, his tone mocking and severe, “Because you’re not wandering off by yourself while I’m looking. I am not going to risk getting stuck in here again. Stay here, don’t move, and if anyone talks to you - uh - play dead or something.”

    Without another word, Ker flew off. He left Grillby standing in the corner. Alone. Feeling very much like somebody’s misplaced child. Stand and wait? Seriously? That was what this plan amounted to? This was so frustrating. For a few seconds Grillby thought he might start seeing red he was so angry, scowling out smoke and sparks, until the pressure of Thetis’ magic wrapped itself around his shoulders like a cloak and Grillby’s soul nearly froze in shock when he felt it. Right. Right. The illusion. If he broke it, this whole thing was done.

    It was a force of will to breathe deeply. To will himself to calm down. To pretend to be normal for a few seconds, and not like the twitchy, impatient, exasperated pile of idiot that he was. Gods but what did he do? Ker didn’t honestly expect him to stand here and wait for the possible hours it would take to find the right person, did he? And could Grillby actually hide here in a corner all day, when there were so many people running in circles preparing? How long until someone spotted him and started yelling orders, only to find out Grillby had no idea what they were saying - only to find out what he was.

    Right. Calm. Don’t panic. Don’t get angry. Just. Stay. Calm.

    Grillby contented himself with looking around and… doing his best to plan what would happen next. He could see a stockade off on the far side of the camp. That was probably where they’d be holding monsters. That was the first place Grillby should go after they killed the barrier mage. The tents scattered around here were plenty flammable. No amount of water would change that - and most of them were likely waterproofed, which meant they were treated with oil. Perfect for burning. He could create confusion with that he supposed. Wherever this second mage was, they’d be lost trying to find him in a mess of flaming tents. And then their captives would be loose. It would be chaos - more so than it already was.

    Hopefully chaotic enough that they wouldn’t know they were being attacked until it was almost over. And with Thetis and the rest of the monsters charging in… they should be able to pull this off with minimal casualties.

    Gaster. Grillby would finally have him back. Some piece of his life before everything went to hell would be back. His friend. His confidant. What was left of his world. The last piece of light and hope in this mess.

    Gaster. He had to find Gaster.

    Grillby didn’t know how long he stood there, watching, quiet, cast in the unnatural light of the barrier overhead. The soft rain of ashfall from the fire across the valley coated his armor in a fine layer of clinging, feathery powder. Every once in a while he saw a flash against the far wall over the sea of tents, a sputter of magic, that second mage dousing everything in a layer of water. After a while this stopped, and aside from the bustling to and fro of a few groups of human soldiers running errands, the camp was still. Tense and anticipating. Digging in and waiting for a storm.

    And then a mage went running past, striding with a purpose, a child at her heel. A child equipped with a staff much like her own. A nervous pang wormed its way through Grillby’s chest when he saw them. It was… strange watching them, knowing he couldn’t confront them yet. Strange seeing them do anything besides making spells and pointing their staffs at a mess of soldiers - though he did notice one of their staffs was lit and pulsing. Perhaps with some spell? But there wasn’t any magic being thrown around right now - not that he could see.

    Grillby watched as the older mage stopped and knelt down to the kid’s level, telling them something probably. Grillby might be curious if he thought he could understand a word of what they were saying. She directed them into a nearby tent, pausing long enough to fuss over them for a few more minutes before striding off with a purpose towards the front gates. That flashing started up again a few minutes later, this time close enough that Grillby could feel the ripple of magic each time. She must be the troublesome mage casting water on the walls. There was something familiar about her - Grillby couldn’t quite place it.

    From where he stood, Grillby could just barely see the child sheltered under the tent nearby, their face illuminated every once in a while when their staff pulsed. Or maybe… that was from the barrier? Honestly he couldn’t really tell. Both staff and barrier seemed to pulse at the same time without fail and it was a bit disorientating to watch. It was still kind of lost on him what spell the child must be making. Grillby had only seen mages’ staffs light up when they were using some sort of magic and -

    And Grillby was an idiot. Realization dawned on him brighter than the barrier could flash, and he gave a flustered spark. The child was holding up the barrier. They had to be. Nothing else made sense! Their staff was pulsing in time with it, the exact same color white as the persistent light cast overhead. The older mage was keeping them close by, probably protectively. This was the mage they were looking for. R… right?

    But he had to be sure. Grillby had to be sure. There was no coming back from this as soon as Thetis’ illusion was broken. People would see him. He’d have to move. Once the momentum from this started there was no going back. He couldn’t mess this up. He wouldn’t just kill himself if he screwed this up. That realization crashed in harsh and severe, like a kick in the chest. What if he was wrong? What if this kid was just convenient? That other mage would be coming for him in a heartbeat, and he still had no idea where Gaster was. He’d be stuck in the barrier. Any monsters he managed to free would be stuck with him, and his unit back by the forest would have no escape.

    Oh gods but Grillby was so sure. There couldn’t be anything else, could there? Ker had said there were only two mages in here - well, he’d guessed there were only two mages, but - this could be it! Or… or this wasn’t right and that was why Ker hadn’t come back yet. What if the ghost had passed these two mages and knew they weren’t the right ones?

    Grillby huffed out a frustrated, growling sigh. Gods he felt so stupid! He wished he knew more! He wished people would bother telling him things so he could actually act for himself without some escort or babysitter holding his hand and walking him through every single decision he made. And he felt nervous and lost, but most of all he felt... sure. Sure that this human was the one they were looking for. So sure he didn’t stop himself when on some impulse he started walking. He watched the second mage, the one dousing the front gates with water. Her back was turned and she was a decent sprint away. If Grillby was fast, he could pull this off before he was noticed.

(*)

    Then he was slipping into the tent where the child was hiding, and he didn’t have time to worry anymore. He was there, towering over them, bitter intent and determination wrapping itself around his soul just as surely as his hand slipped around the hilt of his sword. At the sound of the weapon drawing free from its sheath, the child turned to face him. Their face lit up for a moment, and Grillby could recognize the pleasant tone of a greeting even if he couldn’t understand what exactly was being said. A writhing, gross feeling came crawling to life in Grillby’s soul. It snaked out from his chest, wriggling around in his gut, threatening to freeze him where he stood.

    By the next flash of their staff though, the full gravity of what was going to happen wrenched the child’s expression into something cringing and fearful. As Thetis’ illusion broke, suddenly their light wasn’t the only one cast about the tent. They were awash in the warm hues of Grillby’s firelight. Grillby sighed out a tense breath, smoke-filled and suddenly nervous. With a last second of hesitant grimness he told himself there was no going back now. It was over in a flash of movement, quick and decisive, and suddenly all the light of the world changed. The flickering pulse of the staff cut off abruptly, and with it so did the blinding, pale light of the barrier. Grillby could hear the earsplitting crack as the sky itself seemed to rip apart.

    For a frail second Grillby blinked down at what was left of the child, at the blood on his sword and the shock forever frozen in their expression, and he almost couldn’t believe he’d done this. Then that steel was back in his chest again, a cold weight were his soul should be.

    Grillby ran. Every one of his steps let loose a wide scattering of sparks, delicate like fireflies until they landed on the many tents around him. Tinder, just waiting for a spark. The camp exploded into bright light again. Fire. Not the pallid, unnatural glow of the barrier. This was alive, and it was roaring. It fanned and caught and spread, and humans screamed as their world fell into chaos. Grillby kept his sword ready, but for the first leg of his run he went unhindered. The creatures around him were slow to crawl to life, first shocked by the barrier’s breaking, then panicked as they realized their camp was burning. It was several long minutes before people started to realize it was this single monster that had caused this, and even then some humans were loath to approach. Some humans just screamed at him, pointing and repeating some word over and over that Grillby didn’t understand.

    Whatever kept them off of him, he guessed, was good enough.

    “What the hell did I say?!” came a screaming voice, and Ker was flying beside him, angry and snarling, that smug grin finally ripped off his face, “I told you to stay put!”

    “I saw an opportunity and I took it,” Grillby argued back, swinging his sword around to catch a human who was too slow to get out of his way. He sent them sprawling, and a fresh flash of color danced across his blade, “I’m heading for the stockade. Find Gaster.”

    There was a second where the ghost seemed ready to argue, but whatever he was going to say he swallowed. With a bitter grumble he flew off in another direction, vanishing amongst the sparks and the smoke.

    It was at the stockade doors that Grillby got his first real resistance, a line of three humans meant to stand guard there. They were fierce looking, and one of them had a wicked sort of battle axe in their hands. But they weren’t mages. They fell quickly, one to Grillby’s sword and the two remaining to his flame. With a hard shove he managed to pry the stockade doors open, and the monsters inside blinked at him lost and bewildered, like they couldn’t believe he was even there. Grillby scanned the crowd of desperate looking creatures, trying not to look as disappointed as he felt when none of them were who he was looking for.

    His throat burned as he shouted over the noise of the flames coming to life around him, “Run for the main gate, anyone that can. Quickly!”

    They didn’t need told twice.

    Band of world-weary monsters in tow, Grillby began leading the way back to the main gates, sword and flame working in harmony to keep the now recovering humans back, though they faltered because their forces were split. Some humans scrambled with the fires, now raging far beyond their control, leaping from tent to tent and sometimes to other structures as well, burning persistently past the layers of ice that stiffened the world. A few faced Grillby and his small band of monsters. Others ran, coughing up smoke and ash, too delirious from the heat to bother trying to fight. Still more were engaged with a larger distraction at the entrance of the camp - Grillby’s unit, come charging forward in the wake of the shattered barrier. Even from this distance Grillby could see Thetis’ magic flashing, and the grand spirals of ice as Ruke worked beside her.

    Grillby smashed his way through a few humans that tried to cut him off from them, great sword cleaving through armor and crumpling a shield. A few weak bursts of magic from the monsters he’d rescued struggled to help him, but he didn’t really need it. These weren’t mages. They couldn’t touch him.

    Though a shudder that passed into his armor caught him off guard.

    “Alright sparks!” Ker shouted, “Make a hard right at the tent up here.”

    Grillby felt his soul leap into his throat, “You found him?”

    “No, I found his identical twin,” the ghost spat back sarcastically, “Sometime before we’re all dust, if you don’t mind.”

    Grillby sheathed his sword and sprinted, shoving his way past one last human and disappearing down a row of tents his flames hadn’t caught up to yet. He didn’t have the presence of mind to worry about the monsters he was leaving behind. He had one mission left now. The only real reason he was here. Gaster.

    “Down that row!”

    Grillby skidded into a turn so fast he nearly fell over, the ground slipping beneath his feet. He managed to catch himself with an outstretched arm and spring forward in the same motion, turning the fall into another shot of momentum. There weren’t many humans here - most of them had been left behind with the fire and the fight at the gate, and the ones still on this side of camp were cowering, too afraid of what was going on to approach the thing that had caused it. It was creepily calm here. Past Grillby’s own breath and footsteps, the world seemed eerily muted.

    “That tent there, sparks.”

    Grillby slid to a stop in the tent Ker directed him to, a teeming of emotions welling up in his chest. Anticipation, fear, relief, a mess of grief and joy that threatened to choke him and pressed against the back of his eyes like tears.

    The inside of the tent was dark. Grillby’s heavy boots scattered books he wasn’t paying enough attention to see strewn about the floor. He nearly tripped and fell on them.

    And there in front of him, curled on the ground behind a cage of light -

    “Gaster?”

    The skeleton flinched at the sound of his name, for an instant looking overwhelmed and frightened. There was a gaping scar on his face, a second to match the first that Grillby had grown used to seeing. Grillby wanted to be angry. His chest burned and his emotions roiled and all he wanted was to be absolutely furious that anyone could hurt Gaster like that. But every bit of that righteous anger melted away when the skeleton spoke.

    “Grillby?”

    It was quiet and scared, and yet somehow still hopeful and alive and everything Grillby had never thought he’d ever hear again. And Gaster was laughing and crying, struggling to his feet and throwing himself against the cage of light he was trapped behind.

    “Oh gods it’s really you!”

    For a few seconds all Grillby could do was stare, struggling to even remember something as simple and necessary as breathing.

    “Move dumbass!” Ker barked, “Before the other mage kills your unit!”

    “Right!” Grillby breathed, bounding towards Gaster, his magic rippling to life and ready to break apart whatever this spell was.

    Gaster was signing frantically in an instant, “No no no wait don’t! Don’t touch it! It’s a barrier!”

    “What?” Grillby asked, stopping outside the foreboding cage of light. Dismay caught in his chest like a gasp, “N-no! No! Whose is it?”

    “I’m not - I’m not completely sure,” came Gaster’s stammered answer, and then suddenly he was stammering and panicked, “W-wait! The barrier - the other - - ! Rowan! Are they alright? Did you see - ?”

    A shadow passed over the tent doorway. Grillby saw it as a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, in Gaster’s twisting expression as he flinched fearfully, a shout of warning on his teeth. Grillby dodged out of the way as ripping, stabbing spires of ice suddenly wrenched themselves out of the ground where he was standing. His boot caught on one of them, and it was a struggle to keep from stumbling and falling gracelessly into a nearby pile of books. Before he could recover enough to drag his sword back out from its sheath, another spell was being cast, and another, ice ripping apart every scattered thing, every piece of earth at Grillby’s feet. It was a wonder that he managed to dodge them all in the confined space.

    “Thistle!” Gaster screamed, pressing himself against his prison, “Stop! Please!”

    The shout was enough to cut off the stream of spells pouring from the mage’s mouth, and Grillby was able to use the precious pause to recover. He managed to drag his sword out into the open, scowling and flickering in rapid, furious colors, his breath a gasp of sparks and smoke. Grillby remembered where he recognized the mage from now, after Gaster had said her name. She was the one from the bridge, the strange ice mage who used monster magic. The woman looked absolutely ragged, covered in ash and grime, her skin only showing beneath tear tracks that ran down her face.

    “You can’t beat Grillby, you said so yourself,” Gaster continued pleadingly, though Grillby could tell already that Thistle wasn’t hearing a word of it. She was glaring at Grillby, magic and intent seething at the edge of every breath she took, “Just let me go, you don’t have to fight!”

    The mage barked a laugh in return - a twisted, emotional sound that growled through her throat brokenly. She answered Gaster’s pleas by launching forward more attacks, spells and monster-like magic mingling together in a fury of suffocating intent. The temperature in the air dropped so quickly it stung at Grillby’s throat when he breathed, clawed like frost against his core when he moved. But he refused to be overwhelmed by it. He met her, his fire and her ice colliding into sparks and steam. His lances splintered her spires into jagged glass and glittering powder, vaporized reaching frost into fizzling steam. His sword crashed through some attacks and parried others. For every ounce of her murderous, desperate magic, he met it with protective fury and resolve. He couldn’t lose. Gaster depended on it, and Grillby even more. He wasn’t going to lose Gaster again. He would not let some mage steal everything away from him a second time. He refused.

    Thistle didn’t stand a chance against him. That became clear with a dizzying quickness. She was exhausted, she should be. She had been wasting her magic all morning, while Grillby stayed fresh, cocooned in the embrace of his own element as he set everything alight around him. And something in her was broken. He could taste it in her magic when it grazed him, felt it in every whiff of intent that radiated off of her. She was lost and emotional, and under her desperation was the collapse of someone consumed by grief. Her soul was weakening, and Grillby could feel it.

    Step by step, Grillby approached her, negating her attacks, advancing on the ragged mage with a feeling like wicked steel in his soul. A heavy two-handed stroke from his blade cleaved her staff in two with a splinter of wood and a sparking of half-formed magic. There was just enough reach from the sword itself that the tip of the blade bit her when it passed, setting a new and vibrant red against the steel. Thistle gasped, stumbled back and tripped over some of the kicked-aside and scattered books on the ground. She blinked up at him, shock and resignation mingling in her expression, not even bothering to shield herself as Grillby reversed his grip on his sword and prepared to plunge it through her chest.

    “Grillby stop!”

(^)

    With a stutter of startled movement, Grillby managed to stop himself, the tip of the blade pressing softly against the mage’s clothes, keeping her pinned with the threat of its bite but nothing more. Everything stopped as startlingly, as quickly as it began. Suddenly Grillby was exhausted, hovering over his enemy, gasping smoke from the exertion of the fight, a very damning emptiness starting to open itself in his soul from how much magic he’d spent. His hands shook, his body felt jittery and tense and altogether like he should still be moving, the abruptness of his stop too foreign. Thistle blinked up at him, some neutral expression collapsing across her features, like she was beyond shock or disbelief. Like she didn’t know why he’d actually stopped before killing her.

    “Grillby please,” Gaster stammered, his voice some tense with conflicting emotion that Grillby couldn’t really decipher, “Sp… spare her.”

    “What?” Grillby spat, not daring to take his eyes off the mage at his feet, “Are you insane?!”

    “N-no I’m not! She’s… I don’t want...” Gaster stammered and then sighed. He managed with a bit more firmness in his voice, “She doesn’t deserve this. Please don’t kill her.”

    “Don’t listen to a word of that!” Ker screeched then, and Grillby flinched at the sound of it. He’d forgotten the ghost was still in his armor, “Sparing a mage is literally the dumbest decision of your incredibly short life, hothead. Kill her before she kills you!”

    “Grillby don’t!”

    “Sparks, I don’t care if this guy is the right hand to Asgore himself you don’t spare a mage!”

    Heaven’s above, Grillby had no idea what to do. Gods… he knew what he wanted. He wanted her dead. He agreed with Ker. The only good mage - the only safe one - was a dead one. He should kill her now. He should just - ! But Gaster was begging him not to, if not with his voice then with his constantly signing hands, still moving through the movements of please and don’t. He looked devastated and torn, like this was the hardest decision he’d ever made in his life, as if just pleading for her hurt him. Grillby had no idea why Gaster wanted him not to but… his friend had never led him astray before. Maybe this was for the best.

    For a second Grillby screwed his eyes shut, flame contorting in a grimace, sighing with bitter resignation. He felt the shift inside him before he even made the conscious decision, felt the strange, lightheaded sensation as he bared his soul to Thistle, his guard dropping as he sheathed his sword. He took a hesitant step back, giving her room to stand. Grillby spared her quietly, reluctantly. But he spared her nonetheless.

    “You’re such moron,” Ker snarled so quietly Grillby could hardly feel the whisper in his armor when he spoke.

    “Drop the barrier,” Grillby commanded, watching tensely as Thistle stumbled to her feet, clutching an arm across the wound he’d grazed across her stomach earlier. She watched him for a long moment, the broken splinters of her staff in her hands, suspicious and doubtful and confused. She looked past Grillby, glancing over to Gaster for a moment, and then back to the imposing elemental.

    She muttered a word.

    Something hit Grillby with enough force to stagger him back a step - something extremely cold, and filled with so much malice and harmful intent that it hurt him more than the impact itself. And both Gaster and Ker were screaming at once, and while Grillby couldn’t really focus on what Gaster was saying, he could hear with clear certainty that pestering ghost.

    “I knew it!” he screamed, wrenching free of Grillby’s armor, “I told you sparks I told you! You just killed your entire goddamn unit. Thetis! Thetis!”

    The ghost disappeared out through the tent ceiling, screaming for Thetis, his voice getting more and more distant as he went.

    “That was for Rowan,” Thistle hissed, her voice so low and tired Grillby almost didn’t hear it.

    Grillby’s gaze dropped to whatever thing was so cold, and when he saw it he choked. There was a spear, glittering and perfect, the ice of it so pure and clear it could be glass. It was awash in his mortified, painful colors - purples and reds and weak blues all breaking across its surface. He could even see his own warped expression, something incredibly blank and underwhelming. Grillby was sure the spear’s head would look just like the one on his necklace, but he couldn’t see it. It had disappeared through his armor, buried somewhere in the center of his chest.

    Grillby dropped to his knees. The jarring impact of it sent an almost paralyzing twinge of pain through him, but it was gone the instant he’d stopped moving. He tried to breathe but the natural motion wasn’t working anymore. He wanted to rip the thing out of his chest, but his arms weren’t responding to him. He felt like he was choking on nothing. No, he was choking on ice, it was just lodged somewhere far deeper than just his throat. His soul was suffocating, gasping and struggling and breaking apart.

    Grillby realized… he was dying.

    There was another flash from Thistle’s staff, something Grillby only faintly registered. He was too busy watching the spear, and feeling its cold spreading. It was blooming through his chest, spidering out across his back, crawling along his shoulders. It was a shame he was covered in armor. He wanted to see what it was doing to him. Some morbid, half-alive curiosity wanted to see what he looked like when he turned to dust.

    Then Gaster was there, his face inches away from Grillby’s, crying and babbling. Hold on wait it’s going to be okay I can fix this I promise I can fix this just st-stay with me please I’m sorry I’m so sorry I --! Honestly Grillby wasn’t paying much attention to it. He was too hazy. Shock was making everything cloudy and strange. Or maybe that was just a symptom of dying.

    Gaster’s hands slipped around the spear for an instant, like he might try to pull it out but hesitating, unsure of what to do. Not knowing if it was even worth the effort. Grillby knew it wasn’t. He could feel it in the cold in his chest that was already turning into numb. He could feel it in the crawling sensation as his core put itself out. It had spread to his hands now, the only thing he could actually see. The flame was already out, the core rapidly cooling from the molten oranges to reds, cooling further to whatever that rock-like substance was. Then further, that cooling from blackened core to grey, flaking dust. He was falling apart. He was collapsing.

    He was dying.

    Grillby reached forward, the entire movement sluggish and shaking, and wrapped whatever was left of himself around Gaster in a hug. It was going to be gross and messy. He was going to get dust everywhere and Gaster was going to end up living through the nightmare that Grillby had when he’d had to wash Amathea’s dust off his clothes. But he didn’t care. He’d wanted this for so long. This was all he wanted now. This was all he had left. This was the last thing Gaster would remember of him.

    Grillby saw a flicker of movement, something shifting behind Thistle as the mage watched them. Something like recognition broke through Grillby’s foggy, self-absorbed stupor.

    Somehow he managed to whisper, “Hold her still.”

    Gaster flinched and screwed his eyes shut, reluctant and bitter - but still he nodded, and in the same motion blue magic wrapped itself around Thistle’s soul. The human gasped at the sudden pull of it, and was unable to move out of the way when a hail of vengeful, screaming magic slammed into her, flickering teal, barbed and hungry. They weren’t spears, or Grillby might be able to convince himself that it was somehow Amathea come to save him, or maybe just to escort him to whatever afterlife monsters had in store.

    No, it was Thetis, casting forward wickedly barbed harpoons, tearing into the frozen mage as Gaster held her there. The skeleton didn’t keep her there long. He was too weak to. Too devastated. But for how long he held her there was all Thetis needed.

    Grillby was struck by how vibrantly red it all was. It put the color that had splashed its way across his sword to shame. It poured from every wound, stained Thetis’ armor, ruined the books on the floor. Humans were messy. Almost messier than monsters.

    Grillby’s vision faded. The last thing he saw was red.