Author's Note: Later chapters should be longer. Enjoy!

It was with a heavy heart that you pulled away from Toriel. Though she had attempted to block your way, and attacked you, she had done it out of a need to protect you. You shake off the feel of near missed burns, and give her a small smile. She gives you one in return, wiping the tears out of her eyes, and heads off back down the corridor.

She doesn't look back.

Resisting the urge to run after her, and apologize, you turn back to the door, and walk through. It leads you to another cavern, with a grassy hill in the middle with sunlight illuminating the single flower there. A familiar face looks back at you.

"So. You didn't kill her, and you managed not to get killed. Congratulations." Flowey says sarcastically, the same fake cheer that had at first fooled you in his voice.

"How long do you think your luck will last? Not everyone is as friendly as I am." You roll your eyes, which he either doesn't notice or pretends not to notice, too caught up in his monologue. "Soon, you'll have to make a choice. Either kill, or get yourself killed. After a while, you'll have to give power back to me!"

You cock your head, confused. What power? What is he talking about? As he continues his monologue, asking questions that don't actually require answers, there's one thing you're sure of. You'll prove Flowey wrong. You won't kill, or be killed.

He finally notices the expression on your face. "You think you're so tough? Let's see how you handle being out there!" With a malicious look on his, uh, face, he disappears into the ground.

When he doesn't reappear or pop up somewhere else, you take a few cautious steps forward. He doesn't show up again, or at least not that you can see, so you go all the way to the door. The temperature drops noticeably around that area, and the door is cold to the touch. Opening it, the piercing wind is the first thing you notice, and the sudden lack of darkness. That, and the fact the door is closed behind you. You give it a few experimental tugs, but it doesn't open. Locked, from the inside.

Turning your face back into the wind, you squint your eyes, and resolve yourself to keep moving forward. Thankful for the little protection your sweater gives you from the cold, you head down the trail right in front of you, unaware of any that might be observing you.