Harbinger [Undertale Multiverse]

Ch1 - Harbinger

Harbinger's POV

You didn't know how much control the higher being had over everything. It was an invisible force, pulling the strings from the shadows. It was stronger than even the gods of the multiverse, and you could see its influence in the behaviours of others.

You knew it had a hand in Error's insanity. You knew it had a hand in Nightmare's hate for Dream. You knew it had a hand in Ink's constant forgetfulness. You knew it had a hand in Dream's desperation to please others. It played both sides against each other, and it laughed and what it was doing to the multiverse.

In the beginning, you had passed through existence like a ghost. Unseen. Unknown. Unloved. The only ones that had a chance to see you were the souls you reaped, and the wonderful au you called home. Your brother had always been better at talking to people. He was a Papyrus, of course he'd be good at talking to people. You had always been a lot shyer. A lot quieter.

Your first friend was an aftertale variant named Geno. He was a little grumpy, but he was funny. He was sweet. He was the first person you ever opened up to.

That was how you found out that the higher being didn't like you making friends. Geno was ripped away from the Save Screen and you were left all alone. You didn't get to reap his soul. You didn't get to say goodbye. One moment, he was there, and the next, you were grieving his disappearance, plagued with the knowledge it was your fault.

The higher being wasn't kind. It wasn't merciful. It wasn't long after that Error appeared, wreaking destruction, and you wondered if that was your fault too. You learned not to fight the higher entity early on.

When the conflict between Dream and Nightmare turned into a fully fledged war, you had to reap souls constantly. You could usually only sense when souls were about to die if you were right in front of them, but that was no longer the case.

It was like the multiverse itself called out to you, and what had once been a whisper, was now the agonising wails of thousands. It was constant, tormenting your every hour, and no matter how much you reaped, the chorus of the dead would never quiet. You knew the higher being had a part in that.

You went from practically invisible to the multiverse, to rather well-known. You were seen in every battle, every major fight, never taking part, but always amongst the dead. But it wasn't a good thing, not really. It was like the higher being knew your loneliness, and instead of truly trying to help, it was using it to taunt you.

Your name was always Harbinger. It was what you were born as, a name you had pride in, but the higher being wouldn't even let you have that. You couldn't remember at what point everybody started calling you Reaper, but you hated it more than anything. Nobody saw the true you, just what the higher being wanted them to see.

You were the kind being that helped the fallen souls find peace.You were the gentle god who provided comfort in the final moments of a dying soul. You were the kind of person mourned for every soul you reaped, no matter how well you knew them.

Maybe you weren't what it wanted. Maybe that was why it so cruelly twisted your role and what it meant. According to the higher being, you were Reaper, a personification of death, the bringer of suffering, and the sign of a gruesome end. Any attempts to correct that fell on deaf ears.

Not even your home au seemed to remember, to know, what you were truly called or represented. The multiverse called you Reaper as if you were nothing more than the role you had to uphold, and you could do nothing to change that. All you were was death. Not... not Harbinger. Just death.

Sometimes you wondered if you truly existed beyond what it made you exist as. You didn't get to sleep or eat, not even when your soul felt starved. You didn't get to rest, not even when you were so injured you could barely stand. You didn't get to socialise, not even when the isolation was killing your Hope... The higher being wouldn't let you.

You didn't get to do anything beyond reaping souls of the fallen, and your job was never complete. It was just the way things were. Still, part of you longed for everything to just end. You were so, very tired...

You could not abandon your duty though. You refused to be responsible for countless souls falling to the void or rotting away, for those were fates far worse than death, so you would bear that weight for as long as you lived.

Sometimes the higher being would use that to torment you, purposefully preventing you from doing what you were made for. It seemed to enjoy your suffering, much to your dismay. You wondered if it tormented anybody else - you didn't know what would be worse, though. To be alone in your suffering? Or for somebody to endure the awful things you did?

The battle between 'good' and 'bad' had been ongoing for centuries, but only in the past few decades had it truly gotten so terrible. The multiverse had never seen conflict this severe, had never endured such drastic shifts in its balance, but now, such a thing was an everyday occurrence, a constant that plagued every passing moment.

Death and destruction were everywhere. Each battle was a gruesome fight for control. Pacifism and mercy no longer existed. Friends turned to foes. Allies turned to enemies. Universes that were once peaceful, that once sided in neutrality, were forced to choose a side or perish. Any chance for a truce - for peace - had been ripped away long ago.

You were one of few who knew exactly how the war had started, how it had gotten so severe in such a short amount of time. The death of the mortal Star Sans, Blue, was the trigger point for everything to fall apart. You knew the higher being wouldn't have it any other way.

It wasn't Error who had killed him. It wasn't Nightmare or his gang. It wasn't Ink or Dream. Blue had been murdered by his own brother. He was lured away from his home universe, beaten so severely he could not move, then left to dust.

Nobody had known Stretch was abusive. Blue always spoke so positively of his younger sibling, and anybody who met Stretch fell for that kind facade he shared to the world. Maybe they should have dug a little harder when Blue was so desperate to join the stars. Maybe they should have dug a little harder when his wounds never seemed to heal. Maybe if they had, Blue would still be alive.

You were the one who stayed with him as he slowly died all alone in that au. The higher being would not let you contact his friends. You tried to, of course, but nothing you did worked, and you had to abandon your efforts and focus on Blue.

It would not let you heal the swap. It would not let you do a thing to prevent his death. All you could do was stay with Blue and comfort him as much as you could. You wouldn't let him die all alone in this unfamiliar au, not even if the higher being was annoyed at your persistence.

Even in Blue's final moments, even as you reaped his soul, the swap did not blame his brother. You remember feeling such anguish at that. How could somebody so kind, so pure, be thrown away like they were nothing? How could they be thrown away by the person they looked up to the most?

You grieved for every soul that passed, but Blue's death had hit you the worst. It wasn't the first time the higher being had intervened, but it was the first time you genuinely hated it for what it had done.