𝙉𝙮𝙭𝙚𝙧𝙖 ✧

The Soul of Determination

The meeting room was dim, lit only by the faint red glow emanating from the heart-shaped soul that floated above Frisk's cupped hands.

Its steady pulse reflected like embers in the darkness, casting subtle shadows across the room.

Frisk stared down at it, their heart beating in rhythm with the soft glow.

This was the core of who they were-a symbol of survival, a manifestation of the force that kept them moving forward, even when the odds were against them.

Mavuika, standing with her arms folded, leaned closer. The flames in her eyes flickered with interest as she studied the glowing soul.

Beside her, the Captain remained silent, his sharp gaze fixed on the small, yet extraordinary, manifestation in Frisk's hands.

"So," Mavuika said softly, breaking the silence, "this is your strength. Your soul, forged not just from life, but from struggle."

Frisk nodded slowly.
"I noticed... everyone else's soul seems invisible or stays hidden inside them. But not mine. It's always there, visible, as if it's... different somehow." They turned the glowing red heart slightly, feeling its warmth through their fingertips.

"This," Frisk continued,
"is what kept me alive when I was younger. When I was supposed to die back then, my soul didn't shatter. It... kept me going. No matter how broken or scared I felt, the Determination inside it wouldn't let me stop."

They clenched their fist briefly, feeling the soul's pulse quicken in response.
"It healed me when I was hurt.
Not instantly... but enough to survive, enough to stand back up. I... I wasn't strong enough to fight back then. But somehow, it kept me standing."

The Captain crossed his arms, his sharp eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"A soul like that... it's rare. Maybe even dangerous. Most people don't survive on pure will alone."

His voice was calm, but there was a quiet respect hidden within it.
"But that's exactly why you'll need to learn how to fight, kid. A strong defense only gets you so far-eventually, you'll need to hit back."

Frisk looked down again at their soul, uncertainty creeping into their mind.
"I know... I just don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

Mavuika's expression softened slightly. Her fiery hair flickered gently, dimming to a warm glow that matched the light of Frisk's soul.

She knelt down to meet Frisk at eye level, placing a hand on their shoulder.

"You don't need to be ready now," she said, her voice quiet but full of reassurance.

"But your determination is already your greatest weapon. It kept you alive before, and it will help you stand in the face of what's coming."

She gave their shoulder a light squeeze. "Courage isn't the absence of fear-it's moving forward even when you're afraid. And you've already proven you can do that."

Frisk felt a warmth spread through their chest, the weight of her words lifting some of the doubt that lingered inside them.

"Rest for now." Mavuika continued.
"You've earned it. But know this-we believe in you, Frisk. And when the time comes, you'll be ready."

Frisk gave a small nod, the pulse of their red soul growing a little steadier, a little stronger.

As Frisk turned to leave the meeting room, the Captain gave them a curt nod of approval.

Mavuika lingered for a moment, her gaze lingering on Frisk's back, as if silently offering them strength.

At the threshold of the room, Frisk found Xilonen waiting for them, a bright grin plastered across her face.
"Hey, Frisk! Just in time-thought I'd miss you."

Frisk gave her a tired but grateful smile. "What's up, Xilonen?"

"Got something for ya!" Xilonen said proudly, holding out a wrapped bundle.
"Took me all night, but I think it'll suit you."

Frisk unwrapped the bundle carefully, revealing a weapon inside. It was a sleek short blade, made of obsidian-colored metal with intricate etchings along its surface.

The edge glimmered faintly, as if touched by moonlight.

"It's light, fast, and durable," Xilonen explained, patting the blade proudly.
"Perfect for someone with your style. I know you've always been more defensive, but maybe this will give you the courage to strike when the moment's right."

Frisk ran their fingers along the smooth surface, feeling the care and precision that had gone into crafting it. They gave Xilonen a grateful look. "Thank you... This means a lot."

Xilonen winked playfully. "Don't mention it. Now go get some sleep-Mavuika's orders, after all."

A Moment of Peace

Frisk made their way to the lower floor of the stadium, where Mavuika had prepared a room for them. It was simple but comfortable, with a bed draped in warm blankets and a window overlooking the distant canyon cliffs.

As Frisk entered, they set the obsidian blade carefully on a table beside the bed. The events of the day swirled in their mind-the meeting with Mavuika, the appearance of the red soul, the weight of the Captain's words, and the warm encouragement from Xilonen.

Frisk sat on the edge of the bed, the quiet hum of the leylines faint in the background, as if the very walls carried the heartbeat of Natlan. They exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in their body begin to melt away.

They leaned back against the soft pillows, their eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Just as they began to drift off, a passing thought brought a small, tired smile to their face.

"Ororon's probably getting scolded by Citlali right now... poor guy," they whispered to themselves.

The thought of the elder's sharp tongue and Ororon's endless apologies amused them, even in their half-asleep state.

Dreams of Fire and Determination

As Frisk closed their eyes, the world around them slowly faded into the comforting darkness of sleep. But even as they drifted deeper into slumber, the steady pulse of their red soul remained-a quiet reminder of the strength within them.

Their dreams were filled with flickers of fire, echoes of distant battles, and the warmth of the people who believed in them. They saw Mavuika's determined gaze, Ororon's quiet strength, and Xilonen's playful grin. And through it all, their soul pulsed steadily, a beacon of hope glowing bright within the darkness.

No matter what lay ahead, they knew one thing for certain:

They would keep moving forward.

They would stay determined.