The Castle

Horror

Dead magic hung uselessly in the air. It had been two years since Aliza had left the Underground, and not a single human had fallen since. The lack of humans had long since broken the last pieces of his friend, Toriel's, mind, and made the rest of the monsters in Snowdin snap. Their little town was cut off from the rest of the Underground in every way that mattered, and it was making the famine all the worse for those who were forced to remain. Sans knew the Queen hated him, but he hadn't expected her to let the rest of his town suffer for it--for her to let Papyrus suffer for it. 

The Queen.

Queen...

That damn Queen...

Sans lumbered through Snowdin forest, checking the traps he and his brother, Papyrus had set. 

Empty.

They were all empty...

At least he had found a slug. He had made a habit of turning over rocks to find whatever critters he could a very long time ago, though it seldom yielded much food anymore, but he had been lucky today. 

The wind howled, catching his broken skull at the right angle to make the air whistle as it exited through his sockets. Sans frowned, the noise irritated his ever-present headache. He carefully patted the dead slug in his pocket, checking that it was still there. When his paranoia was satisfied, Sans turned his hand up to scratch at the gaping hole in his left parietal bone. 

Rustling in the bushes caught his attention and tightened his grip on the axe over his shoulder. His one, swollen, red eyelight turned to fix on a group of disturbed leaves. Dull, yellow petals flashed from behind the plant, and Sans looked ahead once more with a grimace. 

Flowey... 

Traitor Flowey.

Sans made no move to attack him, that weed would suffer more alive, anyways. He would have to live knowing he doomed all of them, and himself, by helping that scrawny human. 

The human. She must be the reason no more humans were falling. That damned Aliza must be keeping their only food from wandering up Mt. Ebott. 

Static crept into the skeleton's mind, filling up every nook and cranny where thoughts could hide. Wisps of anxiety and paranoia floated around in the grainy static that filled his head up to the brim and spilled out of his sockets and damaged skull. It stopped the thoughts and made his skull feel so full, though he knew if he checked there would be nothing but air.

Something warm trickled down Sans' skull, it was uncomfortable and tickled the bone around his functioning socket. Pulling his hand away from his injury, he saw red on his fingers.  An intelligible grumble left his mouth as he wiped his hand on his already stained jacket, once more checking for the slug.

It wasn't long before Snowdin town came into view. The place looked deserted at first glance, though Sans knew if he looked through Grillbys' window, he would see the few that remained of its regulars. A spot of dust decorated the street by the Gyftmas tree. Whether it was someone who had been killed over a scrap of food, or the leftovers of a monster who had been mistaken for food by their broken neighbor, it was hard to tell. Sans' remaining magic gave a shameful, pleading pulse at the sight of the dust, begging to be fed. 

He turned his eyelight away from the pile, he wouldn't, he couldn't.  

Sans spotted a few more of Snowdin's inhabitants on his way home. Horribly disfigured monsters crouched in an alley or sitting outside of their house, staring at nothing and nobody. He payed them no mind, not anymore, there was nothing he could do. Food was hard enough to find just for his brother, he couldn't find enough for anybody else anymore. It had been five years since he had been able to find enough scraps to share.