Rising Storm [ Ink!Sans x Reader ]

18. Ashes to Ashes

♓︎⧫︎ ♋︎●︎⬥︎♋︎⍓︎⬧︎ ♏︎■︎♎︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎♋︎❍︎♏︎

I've been telling this story for a long time now and yet no one has heard the tale. No one has listened to the song or heard the voice in the breeze when a rainstorm ceases and the sun has yet to rise, the earth on the very boundary between destruction and creation. No one listens to the messages or the whispers or the passing of time. We are stuck in the present, wrapped up in the problems of the now rather than the bigger, more monstrous ones that await us soon.

And I think that is the same with this story. I think that you are concerned with the happenings of the now, clinging onto and worrying about the brief fleeting moments of time that you call problems, what seem like mountainous obstacles are really nothing more than insignificant bumps when taking into consideration the grand scheme of things.

Have you not realised the end game?

I set the story up this way, offering small hints, small little details that I believe have gone unnoticed. We've tied up all the loose ends (Y/n), well, at least most of them that is. But I do fear that you have lost direction, lost the taste for what really is at hand, the main monster of this tale, the one that has always been since the very beginning and will be here at the very end, the monster that you must face alone, walking on the lonely path with solitary company, with no hand to hold but the ghosts of the dead.

I see the look of fear in your eye. You think that it is me, that I am the final destination on this road that you walk down, but you must forgive me for laughing at this. I know that you are not used to me speaking about myself, I did not even know I was capable of such a thing until now. And if it does ease your spirits, than no, I am not the monster that awaits you upon the conclusion of this tale.

Than who am I? Why am I speaking to you after all this time?

I grow impatient, if I must be honest. It has been a very long time since emotion has flowed its way through these ancient veins, my mind has grown ancient with the passing of each century and even now I can feel a chill settling its way into my bones that was not there before. I guess even the immortal fall victim to the dust in the end and I believe that soon my time will end, but I think that is in the next lifetime or so.

It is true that I am impatient, for it is often aggravating to see how blind you are to the whole of things, how you're missing that one detail that is practically screaming at you. In fact, it's inside your mind right now, waiting to be heard, waiting for your mental defences to slip so that it can claim your mind and set the world on fire with the hatred that has manifested inside it for quite some time.

Oh yes, I see the fear inside your eyes now, you must know what I am talking about. It is about time that you've begun to realise this, I was beginning to worry that you had forgotten. It is a pity you will not remember this when you awaken in a few seconds time, but that I have no control over.

One more question, that's what you desire from me?

A name, I see, you still inquire my name. I don't think I have a name anymore, I lost that a very long time ago that was scorched from my bones in fire and fury, stripped from me just like my mortality that day. But I like to think of myself as the narrator, the one who has been telling this tale since the day in the mines.

You don't remember working in mines? Ah forgive me, my mind grows old ever so as the multiverse does. I forget that you have since passed on from that life and the memories have been carved out from your mind. You know, the painter is very heartbroken by that, it does ever so pain him to watch you look upon him with a hollow sight in your gaze, unable to remember your past lives together while they are still alive inside the folds of his mind.