𝙉𝙮𝙭𝙚𝙧𝙖 ✧

The Lord of the Night's Offer

The domain seemed to shiver as the last remnants of the leyline mechanism flickered out.

Just as they thought the danger had passed, the chamber was filled with a soft hum, like a distant melody carried by a breeze under the night sky.

This was the Lord of the Night, the one who had woven the very leylines of Natlan centuries ago.

Everyone fell silent as her voice echoed gently through the chamber, ancient yet tender.

"You have traveled far," she said, her gaze sweeping over them.

"And you carry the strength of those who came before you.
But among you, there is one whose soul resonates beyond mortal limits."

Her gaze settled on Frisk, her expression kind but serious.

"The soul you possess..." the Lord of the Night began, her voice like a breeze through distant canyons.

"It holds within it a force unlike any other. It is Determination, an essence so potent that it transcends death and time itself.
Few have ever held such a soul, and it has given birth to a new ancient name, Nyxera, one that does not belong to the past but to the future. You, Frisk, represent the beginning of a new era."

Frisk stiffened, overwhelmed by the weight of her words.

They knew their soul was different, but to hear that it had created an entirely new ancient name-one without precedent-was staggering.

"Your strength can shape the future," the Lord continued,
"just as the leylines have shaped Natlan's history. And with the return of the abyss, such strength is needed once more."

Her gaze shifted to Mavuika, the Pyro Archon, who stood tall but solemn.
"Mavuika, I offer you this chance. I will grant you the power to erase the abyss, cleansing Natlan of this threat forever."

Mavuika's expression remained unreadable, but tension rolled off her in waves. The Lord of the Night's words were both a blessing and a curse, and everyone in the room felt it.

"But doing so will come at a cost," the Lord continued.
"The leylines will reshape, and with them, the memories and history of Natlan will be lost. The culture, the knowledge-everything that defines your people-will vanish."

The Captain stepped forward, his expression dark and full of frustration.
"That's a small price to pay if it means ensuring Natlan's survival," he argued, his voice low but firm.

Mavuika glanced at him but said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

"Do you know what it's like to watch your friends and family fall to the abyss?" the Captain continued, his fists clenched.
"To see them die-one by one-while you survive only by some cursed twist of fate? I lived through the invasion 500 years ago. I watched people burn, bleed, and break. And now it's happening again."

His voice cracked, anger and grief bubbling to the surface. "I can't let that happen. I won't. If erasing history is what it takes to stop the abyss forever, then that's a sacrifice worth making."

Mavuika closed her eyes for a moment, taking in his words. When she spoke, her voice was calm but heavy with emotion.
"I understand, Captain. I understand more than you think."

Her gaze softened, but her tone remained resolute.
"But what you're proposing-wiping away everything we are-it's not a solution. It's defeat. If we erase our memories, what will we fight for? If the abyss returns again in the future, what will we have left to protect?"

The Captain gritted his teeth, struggling to suppress his frustration.
"And what happens when the abyss comes again? How many more will die because we chose to keep memories that won't protect us?"

Mavuika stepped closer, her fiery eyes unwavering. "That's why we have to find another way. We'll fight the abyss-without losing who we are."

Ororon, still kneeling beside Xilonen, looked up at the Captain. His voice, though tired, was steady.
"She's right. Losing our memories would be like losing the meaning of Natlan's existence. We'd be alive, sure, but... we wouldn't be us anymore."

Frisk nodded, their heart thudding in their chest.
"We can't give up what makes us who we are. Even if we survive, if we forget everything we fought for, everything we loved... what's the point?"

The Captain exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped as the weight of their words sank in.

For a brief moment, silence hung in the chamber, heavy and uncertain.

Then, finally, the Captain let out a long sigh, the fight draining from him.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice resigned but not bitter.
"We do it your way. But if we're going to fight the abyss without erasing it, we'll need every soldier, every weapon, and every bit of strength we can muster."

Mavuika gave him a small, approving nod. "We'll fight side by side, Captain.
And we'll win."

He straightened, his expression hard but resolved.
"Then I'll leave the army under your command, Mavuika. My soldiers are yours to lead."

The Captain's words carried weight-an acknowledgment of trust, something hard-earned and rarely given.

Mavuika accepted it with a solemn bow of her head.

The Lord of the Night's form flickered, her presence growing fainter as if her time among them was running out.

"You have chosen wisely," she whispered, her voice filled with both pride and sorrow.
"The future of Natlan is now in your hands.
May your determination light the way forward, no matter how dark the path becomes."

With those final words, the Lord of the Night's form dissolved into stardust, scattering into the leylines and leaving the chamber quiet once more.

Mavuika turned to the others, her gaze steady. "We don't have much time. The abyss will come, and we need to be ready."

Ororon stood, his obsidian feather still glowing faintly on his chest. He gave Frisk a small, determined smile.
"Guess this is where the real fight starts, huh?"

Frisk nodded, their heart pounding with both fear and resolve.
"Yeah. But we'll be ready."

Xilonen clapped her hands together, a fierce grin on her face.
"Well then, what are we waiting for? We've got a war to win."

The Captain gave a low sighed, shaking his head. "You kids are something else."

Mavuika turned, leading the way out of the chamber.

As they followed, Frisk felt the weight of everything that lay ahead-but also the flicker of hope burning in their chest.

They had chosen to fight for their future without losing their past.

And with the Pyro Archon and the Captain fighting side by side, along with Ororon, Xilonen, and all of Natlan's warriors, they knew they had a chance.

This was only the beginning.