You open your eyes and the air tastes like wet stone and memory. Your room—no, some room—doesn’t look like yours anymore: warm light falls through a ruined window, and the scent of butterscotch and cinnamon rides the draft.

You sit up and something weird happens: you feel twice as heavy and twice as small at once. Looking down you see two bodies where one should be.

One body is slight and human, a quiet, chipped smile on its lips. The other is small and goatlike, fur soft under your fingers, eyes already shining with a kind, stubborn light. One face looks like Chara, the fallen child; the other looks like Asriel Dreemurr, the Dreemurr prince. You recognize them from the stories, but the memories in your head are still yours—only now they’re shared across two bodies.

You stand (they stand) and the floor creaks with time. A voice echoes somewhere—soft and old. Somewhere beyond the ruins a small shape watches you both with a mix of curiosity and sorrow.

You remember fragments: the tales of the first human who fell into the Underground, and of Asriel, son of Toriel and Asgore, whose fate tied closely to that child. Their stories shaped the world you now stand in.

Two mouths form words at once.

“What… happened?” you say as Chara. “We’re... home?” Asriel whispers, gentle and puzzled.

A distant wind pulls at the broken curtains, and for a moment you feel the weight of the Underground’s history pressing close: kindness and cruelty, bargains made in grief, children who tried to change everything. Your consciousness flickers between two perspectives—Chara’s sharp, hungry edge and Asriel’s aching tenderness—yet the you inside remains steady.

A figure approaches from the corridor: a familiar silhouette, older and tender, with eyes that have seen too much. For a second your heart stops—Toriel. She looks at you both, and her expression holds fear and the desperate hope of a mother. She kneels, reaching first for Asriel, then for Chara, and her voice trembles:

** “My children? you okay?”**

You realize: the Underground is not merely a setting. It remembers. It expects. And now you must answer for two lives at once.

Do you lean into both halves—accepting the burden of Chara’s darker impulse and Asriel’s capacity for mercy—or do you try to keep them apart and find a path back home? Either way, the choice will echo through this place.