UT: Unbound Souls

Toriel stared at the boy before her, his youthful face lit by the warm, flickering glow of the fire. His words hung heavy in the still air of her modest home, an unintentional blow to the fragile balance she had tried so hard to maintain.

"Toriel... could I leave the Ruins? Could I go back home?"

Not again. Not this soon.

The thought screamed in her mind, though she kept her expression calm, her hands folding neatly in her lap to hide the trembling in her fingers. She met Vance's steady gaze with the warmth and kindness she had cultivated over years of heartbreak, though her heart ached deeply.

He is just like the others. They all wanted to leave eventually.

Toriel looked away, her gaze softening as it rested on the crackling flames. Their light danced in her eyes, reflecting memories she wished she could forget. Each question Vance posed, each flicker of determination she saw in his young face, dragged her back to the past—a past filled with sorrow and loss.

It had not always been this way. When she first sought refuge in the Ruins, her heart had been filled with resolve. Her sorrow over losing her children, Chara and Asriel, and her fury toward Asgore's declaration to hunt humans had driven her here. If the rest of the Underground would abide by such a law, she would not. She had vowed to protect any human who fell into this realm, sparing them from the senseless violence that had claimed her own children.

But even her resolve had limits.

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The first child had fallen shortly after her self-imposed exile. She had heard rumors through the whispers of monsters in the Ruins, a faint buzz of excitement and hunger. A human child—a girl—had fallen. Toriel had searched the Ruins frantically, desperate to find her before anyone else. But the Ruins then were not as they were now. At that time, her influence was weak, her voice silenced by the bitterness of other monsters. They saw her as a fallen queen who had abandoned her people, an idealistic fool who could not even protect her own children. They hunted the human child with fervor.

By the time Toriel found her, it was too late.

The girl's body was small, frail, and battered. Her cheeks were sunken, her limbs bruised and scratched. She had been malnourished, injured, and alone. And her soul? That too had already been taken by the time Toriel knelt by her side.

The child had died days before, her body left in a quiet corner of the Ruins where no one would find her. But Toriel had. She had sat beside that lifeless body, tears streaming down her face as her heart shattered into pieces she thought could never be mended.

Toriel's hands tightened on the hem of her dress as the memory overwhelmed her. She had failed. She had come to the Ruins to protect the innocent, to shield them from the cruelty of this world, yet the very first human had slipped through her fingers. It was as if Chara's death had played out all over again.

For a long time after, she had despaired. She questioned her resolve and whether she could even keep her promise to herself. But time passed, as it always does, and with it came change.

The second human fell nearly a hundred years later. Unlike the first, this child had survived at least to the point she managed to meet them.

By then, Toriel had spent decades pacifying the monsters of the Ruins. She had worked tirelessly to instill some semblance of peace among them, convincing them to abandon their desire to hunt humans. It had been no small feat. Many monsters had been resistant, bitter over their own suffering under Asgore's rule. They saw humans as the source of their pain and their key to salvation.

But Toriel persisted. Her gentle nature, coupled with her unyielding determination, eventually won over most of the Ruins' inhabitants. Those who refused to change were either driven away or chose to isolate themselves. By the time the second child fell, the Ruins had become a far safer place.

The second human to fall carried the Soul of Bravery, its orange hue a beacon of their unshakable courage. This child was a boy, older than the others—a teenager—his confident demeanor reflected in the tough gloves he wore and the red bandanna tied firmly around his head. When Toriel found him, he was examining his surroundings with curiosity, muttering about the challenge of exploring Mount Ebott.

"I heard the rumors," he had said, his voice steady and sure. "Kids disappearing, secrets in the mountains. I had to see for myself."

This boy was unlike the first. Where she had found the girl broken and lifeless, this child was alive with bold determination. Toriel quickly realized that keeping him in the Ruins would be no easy feat. But she was determined to try.

For a time, the boy stayed with her. He listened to her stories, ate the meals she prepared, and even humored her lessons on survival in the Underground. But his spirit was restless. The tales of the humans' souls trapped in the Underground spurred something in him—a desire to free them. Toriel saw the fire in his eyes and knew she could not extinguish it. Instead, she decided to nurture it, to guide it.

She trained him, teaching him how to defend himself and navigate the dangers of the Underground. He was a quick learner, his bravery matched only by his skill. For the first time in a long time, Toriel felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps this child could succeed where the others had failed. Perhaps he could escape the Underground, confront Asgore, and put an end to the cycle of violence.

When the day came for him to leave, Toriel hesitated. She wanted to keep him safe, to shield him from the dangers that lay beyond. But she also knew that his spirit was not one to be confined. She gave him her blessing, her voice heavy with emotion as she said, "Be careful, my child. And remember, you are always welcome here."

He had smiled, a confident and reassuring expression that Toriel would never forget. And then, he was gone.

For a time, there was hope. Toriel heard whispers from passing monsters of his journey—his victories, his kindness, and his determination. It seemed he might actually succeed. But that hope was short-lived. Word eventually reached her that he had confronted Asgore and fallen to his hands.

Toriel's despair returned, heavier than ever. Another child lost another failure to protect the innocent. She withdrew further into herself, her heart weighed down by the growing tally of lives she could not save.

The third child to fall bore the Soul of Perseverance. This child was young, bright, and curious—a stark contrast to the bold determination of the boy with the Soul of Bravery. Toriel met the child in a secluded corner of the Ruins, where she had been tending to a small garden. The child had found their way there through a hole in the mountain above, a hidden entrance that bypassed the barrier.

The child was timid at first, clinging to a small notebook in which they scribbled questions and observations. But their shyness melted away as Toriel spoke to them, her kind words drawing out their insatiable curiosity. They asked endless questions, their thirst for knowledge reminding Toriel of her own dreams of being a teacher.

For a time, the child stayed with her, and Toriel found herself rekindling her old aspirations. She taught them everything she could: history, puzzles, survival skills, and even simple magic. The child absorbed it all eagerly, their enthusiasm breathing life into Toriel's weary soul.

But as the days turned to weeks, the child's curiosity grew beyond the confines of the Ruins. They began asking questions about the world outside, about the other monsters, and about the barrier. Toriel tried to dissuade them, fearing for their safety. But the child's determination was unshakable. They wanted to learn, to explore, to see the world beyond.

Toriel's heart ached as she watched them prepare to leave. She tried harder than ever to convince them to stay, to protect them from the dangers that awaited. But she could not bring herself to crush their dreams. In the end, she let them go, her voice trembling as she said, "Follow your heart, my child. But promise me you will be careful."

Months later, Toriel received word of the child's fate. An old friend, Gerson, reached out to her through the whispers of the Underground. The child had crossed paths with him during their journey and had even served as his assistant for a time. Gerson spoke fondly of the child, apologizing for not being able to protect them. He admitted that his age and rusted skills as the "Hammer of Justice" had left him powerless against the monster who had taken the child's life in pursuit of a reward from Asgore.

Toriel's sorrow deepened, her heart heavy with the weight of yet another loss. The dreams she had shared with the child now lay shattered, another cruel reminder of the world's harshness. And yet, she could not stop herself from hoping. Perhaps the next child would succeed. Perhaps they would find a way to break the cycle of despair.

The fifth child to fall into the Ruins carried the Soul of Kindness, a gentle green glow that mirrored the child's inherently passive nature. This boy, young and unassuming, wielded not a weapon but a simple pan, which he used as a shield to deflect attacks rather than retaliate. He was unlike any of the others Toriel had met. Where bravery, determination, or curiosity drove the previous souls, kindness seemed to define his very essence.

Toriel met him during one of her daily routines. Ever since learning of the hidden entrance to the Underground near Mount Ebott's surface, she had made it her mission to visit the area each morning, ensuring no other humans would wander into danger unnoticed. On one such day, she found the boy—a seven-year-old who had just tumbled into the Ruins, wide-eyed and frightened. When she approached him, her gentle demeanor quickly earned his trust, and soon she brought him home to the safety of her little house.

This child stayed with Toriel longer than any other. Days turned into months, and months into years. At first, she thought it was because he was too young to venture out on his own, but as the years went by, she began to hope—no, believe—that he might stay forever. She thought, perhaps, she had finally saved a human from Asgore's plan.

The boy shared Toriel's love for cooking, and together, they filled their days with the comforting rituals of preparing meals and testing new recipes. He taught her dishes from his world, including butterscotch pie, which quickly became one of her favorites. In return, she introduced him to her own creations, including the many ways to prepare snails. They worked side by side, turning the modest kitchen into a haven of warmth and laughter.

More than that, the boy's kindness spread throughout the Ruins. He helped the monsters in small, meaningful ways, repairing broken doors, carrying heavy bundles for the elderly, and offering a listening ear to anyone in need. Even those monsters who had long harbored hatred for humans softened under his influence. The boy's actions inspired the younger monsters to approach humans with curiosity rather than hostility, a shift Toriel hadn't believed possible.

As the years passed, Toriel allowed herself to dream that the boy might truly stay. By the time he was fifteen, he had become like a son to her, and she could hardly imagine her life without him. But fate, as it always seemed to do, had other plans.

One day, news reached them of a young squirrel-type monster who had wandered into the Ruins and gotten lost. The child, moved by compassion, insisted on escorting the frightened monster back to Hotland. Toriel's heart sank at the thought of him leaving the safety of the Ruins. She begged him to reconsider, to let another monster handle the task, but the boy's kindness was resolute. He reassured her, promising to return once the young monster was safe.

It was the first time she had ever watched him leave the Ruins, and it was the last.

Days passed. Then weeks. Toriel waited by the door every morning, her eyes scanning the path she knew so well. But the boy never returned. She asked passing monsters if they had seen him, but no one knew where he had gone.

Eventually, Toriel had to accept the painful truth: the child of Kindness, the one she had loved and cared for so deeply, had likely fallen. Whether to the dangers of the Underground or to Asgore's decree, she would never know. All she knew was the ache in her heart, the cruel echo of his promise to come back.

Once again, she was left alone, mourning the loss of a child who had brought so much light into her life, only to be extinguished by the unforgiving darkness of the Underground.

Then the last fallen human before Vance a human with the Soul of Integrity had been unlike the others. When Toriel met her, she was small and frail, but her blue Soul radiated an unyielding determination to do what she believed was right. Toriel encountered the girl wandering near the outskirts of the Ruins, her expression resolute despite the obvious fear she carried in her heart. The child had been kind but reserved, her interactions with Toriel guarded at first, as though she feared trusting anyone in the Underground.

The girl had a peculiar habit of asking questions that were both profound and unsettling. "Why do monsters hate humans so much?" she had asked one evening as she poked at her dinner. "And why can't anyone just make peace?" Toriel had tried to explain, her voice heavy with the weight of centuries of pain and conflict. But the girl's insistence on fairness and justice was unwavering. She spoke of her dreams to find a way to unite monsters and humans, to end the cycle of violence.

Toriel had been inspired by the girl's ideals, even as she feared for her safety. The child spent weeks in the Ruins, studying old texts and learning from Toriel about the history of monsters and humans. She had taken an interest in the magic of the Underground, often scribbling notes and drawing diagrams in a small notebook she kept tucked in her bag. Toriel had hoped that her focus on learning would keep her content within the safety of the Ruins, but she soon realized that the girl's dreams extended far beyond these walls.

The day the girl decided to leave, Toriel had tried everything to dissuade her. "Please, my child," she had begged, her voice trembling. "The world beyond is cruel. It will not honor your sense of justice. It will punish it." But the girl had only smiled, her blue Soul shining brightly in defiance. "If I don't try, then who will?" she had said, her voice steady and sure. Toriel had no choice but to let her go, her heart heavy with the knowledge that the world would not be kind to such a pure spirit.

But the girl's journey turned dark. The stories that eventually reached Toriel told of a descent into rage and vengeance. Somewhere in the Steamworks deep within Hotland, the girl had taken a path of destruction, eliminating anyone who stood in her way. Her dreams of peace had been overshadowed by a thirst for power, her blue Soul now a haunting reminder of what she had once been. Her path ended when she met her match—whether through exhaustion, regret, or overwhelming force, she had fallen, leaving a scar on the Underground that would not easily heal.

Toriel could not shake the memories of her. She wondered endlessly what she could have done differently, how she might have saved the girl from that dark fate. And yet, the answer always eluded her. The weight of that failure lingered in her heart, a reminder of why she was so adamant about keeping Vance safe.

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The flickering firelight in the present pulled Toriel from her memories, the weight of her past failures pressing heavily on her chest. She turned her gaze back to Vance, his young face so full of life and questions. The boy had grown quiet, sensing the shift in her demeanor, but his eyes still held that spark of determination she had seen in so many others.

Toriel took a deep breath, steadying herself. She would not fail again. "Vance," she began, her voice soft but firm, "you must understand why I cannot allow you to leave the Ruins. It is not because I wish to trap you here or deny you your dreams. It is because I have seen what happens to those who try to leave."

She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze steady as she continued. "You are not the first human to fall into this world. Others came before you, each of them carrying a unique Soul, each of them full of hope and determination. They all had dreams, just like you. And they all believed they could change the world. But the Underground is unforgiving. It does not care for dreams. Every single one of them... every child I tried to protect... they all perished in their attempts to leave."

Vance's expression faltered, the weight of her words sinking in. Toriel reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You are not a burden, Vance, and you are not taking advantage of my kindness. Protecting a lost child is my choice, my will, and it is not a burden to me. You deserve love and care, and I want to give that to you."

Her voice softened further, a hint of pleading entering her tone. "And even if you were to succeed in escaping, where would you go? You told me about your old family, how they abandoned you. Do you truly believe they would welcome you back with open arms?

Vance's hands clenched at his sides as he lowered his gaze, flashes of his childhood from this life playing vividly in his mind. His father's harsh words, the stinging pain of rejection, and the bitter cold nights spent alone. Flowey's manipulation whispered at the edges of his thoughts, feeding his doubts. " Do you want to repay Toriel's kindness? The best way to do that is to leave the ruins, take what she's given you, and make something of yourself out there. Don't stay trapped here forever."
The boy's breathing quickened, his emotions warring within him. Toriel's eyes widened as she noticed the change in his demeanor. His Soul, which had once shone with a harmonious gold light, now flickered with silver streaks. The two colors seemed to clash violently, the silver corroding the gold as Vance's inner turmoil deepened. The apathetic nature rooted in his silver Soul began to take hold, threatening to consume the bright hope of his golden one.

Toriel's heart ached at the sight, but she resolved to act. She stood abruptly, her determination clear. "If you truly wish to leave here," she said, her voice firm yet tinged with sadness, "then don't just say it with words. Show it through your will."

She stepped forward, her figure towering yet gentle. The air in the room grew heavier as she summoned her magic, the familiar warmth of fire crackling in her hands. "Prove to me that your determination can overcome your doubts," she said, her eyes locked onto Vance's. "Prove to me that you are ready."

The room seemed to shift as the battle began, the weight of Toriel's challenge pressing down on Vance. He stared at her, his mind racing, his Soul caught in the storm of conflicting emotions.