Your Perspective

               You find yourself lying on your back in a small patch of golden flowers. Everything, from your head to your toes, is numb. You stare blankly at the tiny blue circle of sky high above you, trying to register what had just happened. Had you... had you actually fallen?

               When your shock gradually begins to wear off, and your body starts to realize that you are not, in fact, quite as dead as your mind had originally thought, you get your answer. Yes. Yes, you fell. And you should never, ever, try something so stupid again. You grit your teeth as your entire body starts to ache, as though every inch of you is bruised. That's not surprising. If anything, you're surprised that you're still breathing. Looking up at the sky like this, you guess that it's at least a good hundred feet to the surface.

               In hindsight, you decide, I didn't really think that through.

               If that's not an understatement, you don't know what is. You hadn't just fallen—you'd jumped. It's starting to come back to you. You'd made it to the summit, only to find one of Frisk's water bottles discarded next to a massive gorge. Assuming that she had fallen in, you'd decided that the only thing left to do was follow her... even if that meant following her into the next life.

               You shake that thought from your head and painfully get to your feet, staggering a little under the weight of your backpack. You'd always been an over-packer, but you're somewhat grateful for the fact now. Seeing as this room doesn't have any stairs in it, you don't think you'll be going back to the surface anytime soon.

               Well, you think, once again staring up at the dot of sky high above, at least I'm closer to finding Frisk.

               You're trying your best to be optimistic, but the reality is that you have no way of knowing if Frisk is even down here... or what lies at the other end of the dark corridor that serves as the room's only exit. You stare at it for a moment, gathering your courage.

               Well, here goes nothing...

               You turn your back on the only home you have ever known and step into the darkness, the last light you may ever see slowly fading from view.

**** 

               This place is weird. Everything is purple. As far as I know, there's no such thing as naturally colored purple rock. Someone must have gone to a lot of effort to paint this place. And what's with the pillars? Am I in some kind of ruins? I-I guess that's pretty cool... you ramble. And those puzzles. I don't see the point in them, especially if all of them are deactivated...

                It's no use. Not even the babbling of your brain can distract you from... from... it. The moment you stepped out of that first corridor, a giant frog has been constantly hopping at your side. You glance at it from the corner of your eye, checking if... yep. It's still staring at you. You shiver as you train your gaze straight ahead, attempting to ignore the oversized amphibian.

                It's nothing to worry about—it's just a giant frog. It's probably some kind of evolutionary thing, you rationalize. You know... like those fish in subterranean caves that grow without eyes.

                You sneak a sideways glance at the frog, and momentarily meet its large, glassy eyes. There's almost a sort of... intelligence in them. You quickly look away as sweat starts to form on your forehead.

               "The humans sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell." 

               The legend's words spring unbidden into your mind, serving only to make you more anxious.

               It's not true. It's.... it's not. It can't be. Another frog peers at you curiously from the shadows, watching in silence as you pass.

              There's no such thing as monsters. 

              You freeze as a really large, butterfly-like creature flutters across your path, oblivious to you. The moment it catches sight of you, it shrieks and races away, visibly shaking in terror. At this point, so are you.

              I-it... it's just a really b-big bug. That... that's all.

              You're about to take a step forward, but then you notice that next to the bridge you have to cross, there are a pair of... of things quietly murmuring to each other. The only way your mind can process them is by calling them living piles of spaghetti. The frog continues forward, but you don't move an inch, some primal instinct rooting you to the spot. 

              No. Nonononono. There's no such thing as monsters. There's no such thing. They don't exist—they can't exist. This can't be happening—

              Something softly tugs at your pants, shocking you out of your stupor. You go rigid, and then slowly... very slowly... look down. The frog has one manus wrapped in your pant leg, and is staring up at you with a somewhat quizzical look on its face. As if it's asking you what's wrong. That's it. You can't deny it anymore. You sink to the ground and numbly put your head in your hands.

               I've fallen... into the world of monsters. You look over at the frog as it gently pats your shoulder, as if trying to console you. A monster... consoling you. Who would have thought.

              "Thanks," you say shakily. You're not sure whether or not it can understand you, but it smiles at you anyway.

              You take a deep breath and get to your feet. Monsters or not, you need to find your sister. She must be so scared, traveling through a place like this by herself.

              The frog hops ahead, and then turns around to beckon at you from the other side of the stream.

              And besides, you think, hurrying to catch up. This little guy seems to want to help me. Maybe... maybe monsters aren't that bad. 

             You follow your guide into the next room, only to find yourself wading through a sea of frogs. Needless to say, you are somewhat taken aback by this.

             "Um... e-excuse me," you mutter, trying your best not to step on any of them.

             A few turn when they hear your voice, and move to give you room. However, the large majority of the creatures seem to be too focused on something else to pay any attention to you. Maybe it's just your imagination, but they seem... panicked? The croaks that fill the room are clipped, almost urgent.

             You crane your neck, but there's too many of them—you can't see what it is they're looking at. Your frog stops to listen to the others, and then starts to force its way through the crowd. It calls out, visibly distressed.

            What's going on?

            You continue to follow your newfound friend, and as they grow more concerned, so do you. You don't like the looks of this.

            The two of you eventually reach the center of the ring of frogs, where an injured monster lies on a bed of fallen leaves. It's another frog, this one much smaller than most of the others. It's on its back and struggling to right itself, but it doesn't seem to be able to. As you cautiously draw nearer, you can see why—the poor thing has a jagged hole straight through one of its forelegs.

             Your frog rushes towards it with a cry, only to shrink back when it's nearly hit by a desperately flailing limb. It's a sad sight to watch. Your frog continues to cry out, but it only serves to make the smaller frog more agitated. It whimpers and thrashes its head about, but it seems to be too confused to tell where its parent's call is coming from. 

             I have to do something.

            You take off your backpack and hurry forward, before kneeling on the ground in front of the young frog. The moment you touch the leaves, however, you recoil. Their red color had camouflaged the pool of blood surrounding the young frog, and your knee comes away sticky. Resisting the urge to retch, you return to your kneeling position, pulling some bandages you'd packed out of your bag.
You move slowly, trying not to scare the poor thing. However, the instant you draw near, it lashes out at you with a weak cry, cutting into your skin with claws that you hadn't known it had. You wince and try again, softly talking to it to try and calm it down. It must be so terrified, and in so much pain... you blink away the tears that spring to your eyes.

             Eventually, the little frog allows you to pick it up. You tie the bandage around its arm as quickly as possible, trying your best not to cause the little thing any more pain than it's already in. Your job done, you hold your patient out towards your frog, who you can only assume is the little one's parent. Your frog gratefully takes its child from you, and holds it close. Even with the bandages, you don't think it has a very good chance of surviving.

             You stand up and turn away, trying to conceal the tears that are now rolling freely down your cheeks. You can't help it—you inexplicably feel the pain of others as your own. If you were to find Frisk in a state like this... if Frisk is injured down here...

            I... I'm not sure what I'd do.

            The crowd of frogs slowly disperses, leaving the grieving parent and their child be. You want to stay with them, but you know that you have to get moving. You wipe your tears away and kneel again, looking your frog in the eye.

            "Thank you," you say. "For guiding me."

            It nods in response, before croaking something back at you. You don't understand what it said to you, but it you guess that it's something along the lines of "thank you for helping my child."

            "I hope they get better soon," you murmur.

            You stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder. Before you can leave, however, the frog tugs at your pant leg again. You glance down, and see that's it's pointing to the room opposite to the one you were about to go into. You never did have a good sense of direction.

            "Thanks," you murmur.

            You cross into the next room. When you turn to look back at the pair of frogs, you find that they're already gone.

**(A few rooms later)** 

             "The western room is the eastern room's blueprint," you read thoughtfully.

            Again, what is up with these puzzles? you ask yourself. You shrug and turn to continue through the room... and jump backwards when something pricks the bottom of your shoe. Spikes. The path is covered in spikes.

            Of all the puzzles to be activated... you think bitterly.

            Remember the sign's instructions, you backtrack to the western room, trying to find some kind of clue to the spike puzzle. Nothing sticks out. The room is completely empty, save for some wall creepers. After searching for what seems like hours, you simply regress to staring at the room, hoping that its secrets will magically appear before you. When that doesn't work, your mind starts to wander.

            Who in the world designed this place? It's so haphazard—even the paths are confusing. Why does it have to zigzag? This room is completely straight.

            Then, it finally dawns on you. The path is the blueprint. Now that you'd figured it out, it seems so obvious. With a quiet insult at whoever designed the puzzle, you cross back to the eastern room.

            Okay, I guess I just have to...

            You carefully lower your foot onto one of the spike-covered panels. The spikes retract the moment your foot would have made contact with them.

Oh, thank Go—

            An excited shriek sounds from the opposite side of the room, breaking your concentration and almost making you lose your balance. You're about to hurl one of your rarely used insults at the owner of said voice, but then you realize... it's a voice you recognize. Your neck cracks with the speed that you raise your head, and your smile is so wide that it could almost split your face in two.

           Standing across the room is your squinty-eyed, blue and purple clad, boot-wearing little sister.

           "Frisk!" you holler. "Friiiisk!"

           Frisk becomes a blur of movement as she rushes towards you, zigzagging across the spike puzzle with precision that you can't help but envy. At the last moment, she launches herself at you, tackling you with a hug that literally knocks you over. She squeals into your shirt, and you laugh as you hold her tight against your chest.

           "Frisk, thank God you're okay. When I found your water bottle, I thought... I thought..."

          Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, and you bury your face in your little sister's sweater.

          If I lost you...

          Frisk taps your shoulder. When you don't move, she becomes more insistent. You sniffle and draw back a little, giving your sister room to talk.

         "I'm so glad you're here, big sister!" she signs, beaming at me. "I tried so hard to get back up but—things happened and—I needed a monster's soul—and I didn't want to hurt anybody, so—"

          "Woah, woah, slow down," you say. She's signing so quickly that her gestures are getting too sloppy to read. She takes a deep breath, and starts again.

         "It's a long story. I'll tell you once we get to Goat Mom's," she signs. You blink, wondering if you read that correctly.

          "'Goat Mom?'" you echo. "Is that a nickname?" Nicknames are much easier to use in sign language—it's tedious to spell out a person's name over and over again.

          "Mmmhmm," she says.

         "T-O-R-I-E-L," she signs. "She's a—"

          A large, furry white creature towers over the two of you, nothing but curved horns and glinting fangs visible in the shadow it creates.

         "My child, who is this?"