The mountain did not want me. It did not want anyone.
Mount Ebott stands as a jagged, grey reminder of everything that has been forgotten by the world above. The local legends say that those who climb it never return—a warning meant to keep the curious at bay. They call it a cursed place, a graveyard of lost hopes, but as I stood at the edge of the great, gaping fissure in the earth, the wind didn't feel like a warning. It felt like a draft. An invitation.
The hole was wide, its edges framed by thick, tangled vines that seemed to pulse with a faint, rhythmic bioluminescence. Below, it was nothing but an abyss of ink and shadows. I didn't plan to fall. It was simply the gravity of the situation—the crumbling ledge, the loose gravel, and the sudden, breathless realization that the ground was no longer beneath my feet.
The fall was not quick. It was a descent into a soft, cushioned nightmare.
I didn't hit stone. I hit flowers.
Golden petals, soft as silk and smelling of old dust and sunlight, blanketed the floor of the cavern. My head spun, and my vision blurred into a kaleidoscopic mess of yellow and darkness. I lay there for a long time, listening to the drip-drip-drip of water echoing against the cavern walls. It was the sound of a world that didn't know the sun existed.
"Howdy!"
The voice was high, energetic, and completely out of place. It didn't come from the shadows; it came from right in front of me.
I pushed myself up, my hands trembling as they brushed away the golden dust. A flower sat in the center of a patch of earth—a small, yellow bloom with a face that shifted with unsettling fluidity. It had two round eyes, a mouth that curved into a welcoming smile, and a demeanor that felt entirely too friendly for a place that smelled like centuries of isolation.
"I'm Flowey," the flower chirped, its stem swaying as if in a breeze that wasn't there. "Flowey the Flower!"
I blinked, sure that the impact had fractured my mind. I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. The air here was thin, heavy with the weight of magic that felt like static electricity against my skin.
"You're new to the Underground, aren'tcha?" Flowey continued, his eyes crinkling. "Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here! I guess little old me will have to do."
The flower's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze felt sharp, calculating, as if he were measuring the distance between my heartbeat and the dark.
"Ready? Here we go!"
The world around us flickered. The cavern walls faded into a gray, static void, and suddenly, a floating white heart—my soul—appeared in front of my chest. It pulsed with a dull, steady red light.
"See that?" Flowey whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "That is your SOUL. The very culmination of your being!"
I reached out, but my hand passed through the light. It was warm. It was mine. And for the first time since falling, I felt a deep, gnawing sense of danger that had nothing to do with the height of the mountain.