Chapter Text
It was snowing the day the mountain opened wide and took its first breath of the world above. The sky was a blinding white and the haze in the air felt so sharp it hurt to breathe.
Wraith could barely see his outstretched hand before his face, and he was sure if he removed his glove the pale white of his bones would be swallowed up by the world around it. It was a pity, the shock and awe he had anticipated for so long did not live up to his expectations. But then again, very little did. His king strode forward, a hulking mass along the cliffside, and Wraith wondered where his thoughts lay. In the prison they meant to leave behind? In the stark cold with his people huddled for warmth and cautious of this new word? Or maybe he was thinking of the past, being one of the few still alive to remember this place, and perhaps he too had expectations that were not met.
Or maybe he was thinking of the dangers of this land. It was no secret that the world above was home to monsters of a different breed. Ancient horrors spoke of in whispers lest they wake and be summoned to you. Some of the creatures were supposedly so old they existed before Souls settled into Monsters and Men. Before even love and compassion existed.
And speaking of, there was the matter of humans denizens; smaller creatures who possessed neither the size nor horror of the monsters but were cunning and ruthless in a way that made them just as dangerous.
Wraith turned away from the looming expanse and looked back to those who were the first of his kind to taste freedom. The group of 20 or so Monsters magically dwindled down to less than half. He wanted to laugh out loud but held back his mirth that his people who were only moments ago so desperate to leave actually shrank back inside to escape the harrowing wind and snow. But he did not fear the snow or the cold. He knew it well. Wraith hadn’t been in Snowdin for some time, the town that he once called home was always in a state of cold before it was swallowed up by the ever-rising tides of the black toxicant. But this felt familiar, and it was almost like greeting an old friend with a cold handshake.
Captain Undyne was beside him, grumbling about her guardsmen’s lack of fortitude under her breath. She had been buzzing the entire journey up the mountain's winding path. No one had expected the barrier to be broken so suddenly and all her questions about how it had come to fall had remained unanswered. She wouldn't let up about what happened in the castle’s basement; what happened to the Souls. Wraith refused to answer and that only spurred her on more. That was until Asgore, sensing Wraith's pain threatened to rip out her good eye if she didn't keep her questions to herself. Seemed his king was still capable of mercy.
“Winter,” Asgore grunted and it was almost lost to Wraith; the solemn word quickly carried off by the wind. “Whether beginning or waning I am not yet sure.” He turned and walked back up from the path he wandered and addressed his captains and the guards that hadn’t strayed from their position, shouting over the wind. “We are setting up here until the storm passes. Envoys will be sent to the rest of the Capital asking people to stay in their homes if they can but be prepared to leave. We can shelter back inside the mountain but–”
The sound of a distant scream pierced through the cry of the wind and Wraith lamented that it did not sound distant enough for his liking. It was like ice scraping on metal and a chill settled in him for the first time since leaving the mountain.
Undyne summoned a ring of spears that danced around her like an aura. She grabbed one and looked to the skies, ready to sink it into the heart of her foe with frightening precision. But nothing came. Nothing that they saw, at any rate.
With renewed purpose, Asgore rushed past his men and spoke with more urgency. “I want fires built at the mouth of the cave and manned all day. And not fires made of magic. It’s not the light we need but the heat!” The guards who chose to shelter inside set to work, rushing into the dark of the mountain to find materials to burn. “We can not let them burn out once they have been lit! Let your weapons burn if you have to. And rest while you can, Stars know you’ve earned it, but I want two individuals on watch at all times.”
“Sir,” came a voice that Wraith recognized as Blook the laureate. Just that one syllable came out shaky and broken into pieces, a testament to his fear. Blook was no fighter and was with them for ‘posterity’ as he called it. Lately, Wraith couldn’t find a single thing about their time spent under the mountain worth remembering. “What was that noise?”
Asgore did not search for him, knowing full well the folly of looking for a ghost in a snowstorm. Instead, he turned to Wraith and Undyne before he answered. “There are not many things that venture this far up the mountain, but rest assured those that do are better suited to it than we are. Captain Wraith, I will leave this in your hands. Captain Undyne, you will accompany me back to Hotland. We must prepare our people as best as we can for what lies ahead.”
She nodded in response before dispelling her spears barking orders to a few of her men. The bright red of her hair disappeared long before she made it to the mouth of the cave.
Asgore didn’t follow. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do not venture out until the storm subsides, and do not let the fires die.”
“They won’t sire, not on my watch.” Wraith could already venture a guess as to why the fires were important, having heard of creatures made of ice that shy away from the flame. But curiosity was a creature too, and a morbid one at that. So he asked. “And what happens if they were to die?”
Asgore looked out over the cliffside and his large eyes grew hazy with a memory. The world he saw looked like it didn’t exist; it looked as bright and indiscernible as seeing stars behind your eyes. “Those that fear fire grow to love the ashes. You’d be dead in minutes.” That was all he offered before following the tracks Undyne made in the snow.
Wraith didn’t sleep that night. Or the night after. Or at all really. He walked silently about the makeshift camp for the entirety of the storm listening for strange new sounds to commit to memory. There was going to be much he had to learn if he wanted to survive in this world.