Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wind shifted between the tall blades of grass that surrounded Spamton. A soft, gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of flowers and the pleasant sound of rustling leaves, and above it all was a blue sky. Clouds were few and far between, only occasionally obscuring the beautiful sun above. 

Every time it did, Spamton could feel a momentary chill and see those glowing beams of light break through the clouds.

“Look, Spammy! That cloud looks like you!”

He heard Tenna’s voice, always so warm and inviting. He would always be a showman at heart, but when it was just the two of them, his voice was different; softer, kinder, every word dripping with love.

He saw Tenna’s hand as he pointed to a cloud far off in the distant sky. He still  wore his gloves– Spamton had stopped asking him to take them off ages ago. It wasn’t worth the hassle and listening to his whimpers and whines was only fun for so long.

He saw his bare arm, the vibrant purple plastic covering up sensitive wires and delicate armature, keeping everything protected and contained. It was free of scuffs or scratches, the folded sleeve stopping at his elbow where a few spots of grease seeped out from his joints.

He saw the cloud Tenna pointed out; the hollow eyes and jagged teeth slowly opening up, the roundness of its face dissipating with a strong gust of wind. Its jaw opened wider and wider, the sun beginning to seep through until the jaw had completely separated from the rest of its head.

He saw the sun. It was so bright it burned. The immense heat made his wooden body warp and creak, his chest heaving as he fought the weight of his own arm to cover his closed eyes. 

Spamton saw his hand: A construction of  unnaturally white wood with articulate, skeletal fingers that clattered every time he closed them. The sun continued to bear down on him, the puppet forcing out hisses and groans of pain as the exceptionally warm beams of light beat down upon him. His hand began to snap and creak, the smell of smoke and rotting glass invading his senses until he felt something drip onto his face. 

Then another drop. And another. Spamton willed himself to look, opening his eyes just enough to see what was dripping onto him. 

He saw the molten light of the golden sun. 

And despite never moving his arm, he couldn’t see his hand.

…

The endless black sky felt empty. Plain white stars shimmered rhythmically, as if they were taunting him with the possibility of being real, asking him to reach out and touch them. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could pluck one from the sky and watch as its light faded in his grasp. Even if he wanted to pretend they were real stars, they were too dim, too big, and shaped in odd ways as if they were drawn like a child in kindergarten. 

It was dark, the sight of a dark fountain haunted the corner of his vision just above the sea of shifting blue sand that buffeted his body with each gust of wind. It was so cold that it burned him.

His limbs were already partially buried in the sand from the wind shifting the dunes, and left just his chest and head exposed. How long has it been? An hour? A year? Did it even matter anymore? None of this was supposed to happen. How could it have gone so terribly wrong? 

But that didn’t matter anymore. And now Spamton laid in the Dark World he created, where he could think of every single mistake he made that brought him to this very moment. 

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

He fell for Mike’s tricks again.

He let himself need his gifts.

He let himself be fooled into thinking he could make a difference, that his contributions would bring about anything good.

He scared Noelle so badly she fled in tears.

Mistake after mistake all culminated in this very moment, choice after choice rearing its ugly head just to remind him he was an idiot for thinking he had good ideas. It would be easier just to do as he was told. Just let someone else take the reins and tell him what to do. That way, if something wrong happened, it wouldn’t be his fault. Things could go back to the way they were supposed to be. He could just be a puppet, smiling while someone else pulled the strings. Life was easier like that, wasn’t it?

“... Spamton?” A voice echoed across his mind and pulled his attention away from the glittering stars in the false sky.

Mag… A fragment of the Human Soul, graciously gifted to him by Kris, at the Soul’s request. For him, it manifested as a single red wire that emerged from his chest and wisped off effortlessly to the Angel knew where. 

His new puppet master. They claimed not to be, or at the very least chose not to exert their power over him, but maybe if he actually listened to them and did as they asked, things would have turned out a lot better. All of this started when he disregarded their concern about this Dark World. The very start of the path diverging without their knowledge, and in hindsight he should have known better.

He should have listened when they said they were nervous. They said they didn’t want him getting hurt, and now look at him! Stuck, alone and afraid all because he wanted to investigate “some Gaster bullshit” as the Soul said, whatever that meant. And all because he wanted to be taken more seriously by the people in Castle Town. 

His jaw shut tighter, and heaved himself onto his side to pull his limbs from the sand. He felt ashamed of his own stupidity, and angry that the Soul could let all of this happen instead of just being firm and doing their damned job as his puppet master.

“... Leave me alone,” He thought with a sneer, a glimmer of light obscuring the static that overtook his eyes.

“Spamton, can we please talk? It’s… been ages, I need to know that you’re okay,” Their voice was laced with worry, but their wording made his jaw snap in frustration. 

The wind shifted, buffeting Spamton’s back as he heaved himself into a seated position.

“I’M FINE! I’M [Hunky Doody] ARE YOU [Satisfaction Guarenteed]!?” Spamton wailed over the violent tempest.

“No I’m not, please just talk to me. Don’t…” He felt a heavy sigh escape him as the Soul flexed his chest, “I don’t want to tell you what to do. That’s never been what I wanted. I want you to tell me how I can help. I’m sorry, this was never meant to happen…” 

The wind dissipated, Spamton’s legs covered in icy sand once more. Static threatened to invade his eyes and he wrapped himself in a tight embrace.

“... Never meant to happen....” Spamton repeated. A short laugh forced its way out of his mouth, “How could it have? [Right, Right]? I was never [Mint] to be here… I should have left it to the [Real Heroes].... Then I wouldn’t have gotten [Stuck]” 

 A comforting stillness washed over him when he felt the warmth of the Soul radiating in his chest. He wanted to believe it was compassion, but deep down he felt it was pity. Regardless, the wind died down and the sand didn’t quite feel so cold.

If this was supposed to be his own Dark World, why was it so barren and lifeless? The endless rolling hills and shifting dunes felt like nothing more than the Cold Place that swallowed up the edge of creation of Tenna’s world. It should have been a vast city with his face plastered on every billboard, there should have been rollercoasters and neon and Cungaderos driving on roads made of light! It should have been New Spam City! The heart and hub of the whole Dark World! 

Was a desert what he deserved…? 

Was his own existence so pointless that it was worth nothing more than sand shifting endlessly and following the flow without any thought of its own? He was made to be ignored, why would he think he deserved anything significant?

“... You did what you thought was right, who could have known you would have been able to go into the Light World? B-but isn’t this a good thing? It… might not have been the greatest circumstance, but this is still incredible progress, don’t you think?” Their voice washed over him again, that distinct hope lacing their tone in a way that encouraged Spamton to listen.

“The Light World rejected me,” Spamton thought sorrowfully, “Everything hurt, I could feel my bones warping… I-” he hesitated for a moment, “I didn’t feel like myself. It was like it knew I didn’t belong there, and it was doing everything it could to send me back or kill me, but I just couldn’t….” His eyes narrowed once more, his jaw creaking as he shut it tighter.

His throat swelled, his chest warming as he overlooked the vast desert. There were cliffs far off in the distance, but nothing beyond it. Card Castle was gone. Whatever inhabitants that were here when it was fueled by the Knight’s fountain were gone. Turned to statues no doubt. Now, the only presence to keep him company was the soul thrumming in his own chest. 

Even Jevil, whose devilsknife laid half buried in the sand, made no effort to show himself. Who knows, maybe he would petrify as soon as he decided to appear. All the better, Spamton thought, that clown would just pick fights and insult him. Mock him for not knowing any better, for allowing himself to be tricked. 

As if that clown was any better, he was screwed over too. He met the same people, his life was upended all the same! He was screwed out of his freedom just like him! 

Spamton’s hand closed into a tight fist, sand running through his fingers while he raised it from the dune he rested upon. Then finally, once his fingers unfurled, a ball of blue glass rolled off of his palm. So dense it partially sunk into the dune while stars reflected off its pristine surface like a galaxy all of its own.

“The light world rejected me…” Spamton thought. A deep snarl resonated from his chest, “Of course it would, right? Because I can never have anything nice, can I? Nothing can ever go my way!” 

Suddenly he rose to his feet and paced back and forth.

“You shouldn’t say that, this is just a minor setback, we can-”

“SHUT UP!” he finally snapped.

His voice was shrill and desperate, hands reaching up to grab fistfuls of his hair while he willed himself not to collapse again.

“SHUT UP!! TH IS IS YUOR [At Fault Accidents]!! YOU”RE THE [One And Only] WHO WAnTED ME [Harder. Better. Faster. Stronger] I [Would] BE FINE LIVING IN THE [Gutter]! I WOULD BE [Happy] IN THE [Trash] BUT YOU THOUghT YOU [New and Improved Formula] BETTER!”

“Spamton please, just take a-”

“SHUT UP!!” Spamton snapped as he slammed a closed fist to the side of his head. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” The only words he could ever remember to say when he got upset.

He desperately wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, shout at the Soul that they ruined his once chance at Heaven, that the Light World rejected him because of them, that he would have been happier if they just let him die in Queen’s basement.

But the words never came.

You did this to me!

You made me a freak!

Why does everything always have to go wrong?

I can never be happy, can I?

How could you let this happen?

How could you do this to me?

Tears streaked his face, desperate wheezes and cries of anguish played on repeat. Every time he tried to speak, nothing more than sound came out. Every passing second, he grew more frustrated. His face burned a deep red, fists grabbed and pulled at his hair, and pixels of light broke away from their place only to return a moment later.

The roaring wind brushed against his face, his staticky eyes obscured by the pink and gold of his glasses, and he finally managed to suck in a breath.

“I [HATE YOU]!” His voice cracked like thunder and rattled the ground beneath his knees.

But suddenly, there was a pause. His own words echoed in his mind and settled against his conscience, and he began to wonder why the Soul hadn’t spoken up through all of this. This was cruel, he thought, and Mag didn’t deserve it. Their words repeated from past conversations, little snippets here and there that stuck out to him.

How much they knew about the events of this world, how deeply they cared for him, but also how much his presence was changing fate. None of this was supposed to happen, after all, he never should have ventured into the Card Kingdom with Noelle or reunited with Tenna in TV World. He never should have left Queen’s basement. There was no way Mag would have known what would have happened when Spamton got pulled into the Light World, because it was never meant to happen.

Hell, he never should have been able to close or make a fountain to begin with.

He shouldn’t vent his frustrations on someone who knew just as little as he did. They weren’t the enemy, he knew who that was. 

A moment of silence hung in the deadly still air while he summoned the courage to speak. An apology was in order, of course, but the last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing and upset Mag further.

But they wouldn’t get upset, would they? No, they understood him. They were patient in a way that Mike never was.

“... I’m sorry, Mag. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Spamton pulled his knees to his chest while he continued to think, “Everything just went so wrong.”

“I’m sorry too.” A heavy sigh weighed down on Spamton’s chest. “I’m really sorry, Spamton… I really, really am. I wish I knew what to say, I wish I had answers for you, b-but--” they hesitated, a breath caught in Spamton’s throat while he looked down to his feet.

A cold gust of wind cut through his well worn turtleneck and whistled through his hollow torso. Static threatened to invade his eyes once more as his mind began to wander. Mag was supposed to know this stuff. They were supposed to know all the answers, that’s what they said when they first met, after all. And yet here they were. Lost in the unknown. Trapped, even. Who knew how long it would take for someone to find Spamton, if they found him at all. What would happen if the fountain was closed again? Would he have to make a new one just to sustain himself or could he drag his melting, rotting body across the hall to the supply closet before the pain became too great?

Spamton rubbed his eye and sat back down in the dune.

“... Do you want to talk about it…? The light world? And, what happened to you?” The Soul asked in a voice so warm it soothed his distress.

The very thought that this voice held such power over him was laughable. If this conversation was had with Mike, he would have told him that everything happened for a reason, that he shouldn’t be so dramatic about it, that he should be happy, and that he should smile. Maybe that’s what he wanted to hear.

Maybe if he was told this was all part of some plan, he’d be able to take solace in his misery again even if it was just some lie to keep him complacent. 

“No. I don’t,” Spamton thought with a snarl. 

If the Soul didn’t know how to fix it, there was no point in reliving the memory. 

“What do you want to do, then? You can’t just lay here.”

“Why not? Every choice I made so far just led to more people getting hurt. It would have been better if you just left me to die in Queen’s basement. Maybe I would have been happier as a pile of dust drifting through the wilds once that fountain closed.”

“Spamton, there’s no universe where I just leave you behind. I’d never do that to you, you don’t deserve that.”

“Then what do I deserve?” Spamton thought, his jaw snapped shut angrily. “Do I deserve this?! Do I deserve to be stuck in a desert?! Or, no, do I deserve to get stuck in the light world while it melts the flesh off my bones!? I had flesh, Mag! Or whatever the hell that was dripping off of me!”  He retorts, another cold gust of wind cut through his turtleneck. “Do I deserve to have seen the love of my life die right in front of my eyes!? And then I screw him over again because I said yes to his stupid fucking plan for how to contact Noelle?! What if that killed him again!? What if it fried his internals and he died again!”

The wind came with such force that it pushed him forward and forced the puppet to anchor himself with his hands against the dune.

“You can’t blame yourself for the choices other people make. Tenna chose to risk his own life, if something happened, that’s on him not you. But it’s okay, he survived. You spoke to him not that long ago, too!” The Soul responds.

A tightness pulled at Spamton’s chest. “A few hours ago. After I told him I would be back in five minutes tops,” he rolled his eyes as the guilt began to weigh down on him again.

Serves him right for giving a timeframe. He should have known better than to go and make promises like that, he should have known that nothing goes so smoothly in his life. Especially not when Mike so rudely inserted himself again. This whole disaster had his name written all over it. Why would that fountain be opened up again in the first place? A heavy pit formed in Spamton’s chest. He thought that it might have been a distraction to leave Castle Town vulnerable, but if an attack did happen Tenna would have mentioned something when they were able to communicate over Noelle’s phone. 

A short laugh forced its way through Spamton’s parted teeth. 

“ I just wish I knew he was [Hunky Doody],” Spamton muttered under his breath.

A long silence was held between the two of them. Spamton slowly traced his finger through the sand. It repeated the effortless motion of a square, the valley deeper with every pass until the mounds collapsed in on themselves. Then, he stopped with his finger buried deep in the top corner. He willed himself not to strike it through, his finger teetered in place while The Soul thrummed in his chest. It wanted to say something, he could feel it, but those words vanished before they reached him.

“S-Spamton,” Finally something, his own name echoing in his mind as it did hundreds of times before. It didn’t sound quite right. “Can we… try something?” 

His eyes narrowed slightly as he pulled his finger from the sand to focus all his attention on The Soul. This was a better distraction than the activity he had been doing mere moments ago. In response to their question, he hesitantly nodded his head. What was the harm, it’s not like there was anything better for him to do right now. 

“Alright, just- take a deep breath,” The Soul began. 

Spamton’s chest swelled as he imitated taking a deep breath. He tried to picture the air passing through his cooling system and whatever semblance of lungs he used to have as Addison to sell the illusion.

“And then?” Spamton asked quietly, his gaze shifted upward to the sky full of twinkling blue stars.

“Close your eyes, and think about what Tenna might be up to.”

What was this supposed to be? How could closing his eyes fix anything? What would it do?

“What's this—”

“Just— please, I know it sounds crazy but please just try. I want to see if this’ll work.” 

There was no point in arguing, and with this world as barren as it was, why not escape to the palace in his own mind again? One where he and Tenna could be together in each other's arms, where he could listen to the quiet symphony of static that played endlessly from his head. 

So Spamton let his eyes settle closed and laid down against the dune. He let his mind flood with visions of Tenna; he must be shuffling around Castle Town right about now, worried to death for his little mailman.

…

There was a shift in the atmosphere. A strange tense feeling that unnerved everyone since the sudden arrival and defeat of the Titan nearby. Even after the earth stopped rattling, darkners were still on high alert. Everything was strange, off, but they just didn't know how to respond. 

It all started when that new fountain was opened in the spare classroom. Why would it be opened if Kris and the gang were already in the Sanctuary? What value could it possibly hold after everything was collected and brought over to the supply closet? 

And then Spamton volunteered to assist in closing it. Not a local to the Card Kingdom, and darkners hesitated to believe he was particularly strong or capable. Some argued it was valiant that he stepped up, but he's been over there quite a long time. Maybe he died. Maybe he turned to stone. 

They could only hope that if he did end up suffering a less than pleasant fate, that it didn't upset Noelle too much. 

And yet, the only darkner who truly seemed worried was Tenna. He didn’t like being kept out of the loop after all. The last time he was able to speak to Spamton over Noelle’s phone, he said that everything went smoothly and that they would be back in more than ten minutes. The fountain that loomed over the horizon closed, and there was a moment of calm where everything seemed fine. 

Then it opened back up.

It’s been hours now. Tenna didn’t receive any calls, and trying to send one out resulted in garbage noise. 

When Ralsei got back to Castle Town, he looked drained. The prince’s eyes were bloodshot, the short fur that covered his face was drenched with tears that have long since dried, and a single bloody hand print was pressed into his cheek. The last thing he needed was a larger than life TV begging him to go to a dark world that shouldn’t even be there to begin with, but that was the reality.

The Darkner lumbered towards Ralsei with heavy steps and a screen covered in static. He sounded in pain when he spoke, one hand held tight against the side of his head while the other pushed against a building to keep himself upright. 

“-Please, Ralsei! Something happened, I just know it! If you don’t want to go, that’s fine! It’s fine, really! Just please, open the grand door, I’ll go look myself!” Tenna cried out with another short hiss of pain as he slammed the remaining static from his screen.

Now wasn’t the time to break down again.

“No, it’s too dangerous for Darkners to venture there,” Ralsei responds firmly, his eyes narrowed up to the TV’s screen as he tried to step around the host once more. “I’ll monitor the situation but the best we can do is wait for Kris to come back so they can seal the fountain.”

Tenna whined loudly. He couldn’t help but shrink down, then rushed to cut the prince off from returning to the castle.

“You aren’t listening to me! We can’t wait that long, what if Spamton’s hurt? What if- what if Noelle’s hurt?!” He cried out, earning a pause.

Suddenly Tenna had the prince’s full and undivided attention. What were they doing there? Why was there another Dark World to begin with, this wasn’t something he’d ever foreseen, and now that it involved another Lightner it was much more serious.

“Noelle…?’ The prince repeated, his fur stood on edge as he turned to look at the gilded doors blocking off the entrance to the Card Kingdom.

A few other darkners were crowded around it, almost as if they, too, were waiting to hear of Spamton and Noelle’s condition.

Queen paced and sipped from her glass of battery acid with a worried expression.

The Pink and Blue Addisons leaned against the wall, their legs bounced while they tried to stay calm.

Motormouth Mike almost looked paralyzed as he stood by the doors, his sight fixed upward to the Delta Rune. 

“Why were they in there?” Ralsei asked firmly, his eyes narrowed.

Tenna sputtered, his screen shifted to a vibrant rainbow while he tried to avert the Prince’s gaze. He wasn’t sure how much he could say, lest he reveal something that Spamton wouldn’t want him to know. 

“The…. eh-heh… the fountain!” Tenna straightened his posture.

For just a moment, his screen flickered with static which prompted the TV to slam a fist against the side of his head. 

“The fountain!” He repeated with his hands clasped together nervously. “It opened up while you three were at the Sanctuary! As the fourth member of the Fun Gang (that’s what you call yourselves, right?) Spamton took the INITIATIVE to explore and make sure nothing was out of the ordinary! And then, NOELLE! Yeah, that’s right, would close the fountain and bring him right back! But they haven’t come back yet! Why the HECK would they be taking so long?! That’s it, that’s the whole story!” 

Ralsei seemed to turn in on himself, every new detail of Tenna’s story sent another wave of fear barreling across his body. How was Tenna the host of some worldwide sensation TV show if he was such a terrible actor? His hands gestured wildly with each word and his gaze constantly shifted down to Ralsei, as if he was making sure the prince believed him.

“How did he contact Noelle…?” Ralsei asked fearfully

Tenna stared, much longer than he should have, almost as if he was waiting for Ralsei to think of the answer himself.

“Um... Email?”

“Mr. Tenna,” Ralsei said firmly.

“I swear it was an email! Please, just find them! If you don’t find them, I will! Angel willing I’ll bust through that door myself and turn the world upside down looking for him!” 

“... You’re not very good at lying, Mr. Tenna.”

“Oh well now, that’s just mean!” Tenna pouted, his digital cheeks puffed out as he turned to walk towards the door.

“Mr. Tenna do not try to open that door!” Ralsei cried as he pulled Tenna’s pant leg.

Tenna’s head whipped around to meet his gaze, fangs on full display while his claws threatened to tear through his gloves.

“I’m not losing him again! Especially not when he’s right there!” He snarled, turning back to face the door with a fist high above his head.

Just before he could make contact, there was a loud pop. His screen filled with static, and when it dissipated it wasn’t his face that came back. Instead, there was the face of a lightner reading off the news headlines.

…

Spamton slowly opened his eyes. Ten minutes of nothing; absolute silence from the Soul, with his own thoughts perfectly still. He tried to think of Tenna, of how he was talking to everyone and asking where he might be, but nothing happened. That comforting weight returned slowly. A subtle warmth that chased away the cold wind and left him feeling less empty.

“... What was all that for?” Spamton thought, his arms wrapped around himself in a comforting embrace.

He felt his heart and soul flutter while his constant companion fought to find the right words. They were excited about something, he could tell from the whispers in a language he didn’t understand that echoed in his head.

“I can’t believe that worked…” They finally mutter.

“What worked?”

“It’s something that I do with Kris. Sometimes Ralsei asks them to close their eyes and think about someone else so they can have private conversations. But, when that happens, I can see who they’re thinking of. I-it worked!”

Spamton perked right back up, eyes wide as dinnerplates as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“You saw [Cathode]?!” Spamton roared excitedly. 

Like before, there was no one around. Just the Devilsknife that laid half buried in the sand. 

“I did! He was in Castle Town, talking to Ralsei. He was worried about you and he wanted to find you and bring you back. He’s doing okay, he’s safe, and he’s not mad at you… I’m sure someone will be coming soon.”

Spamton nodded his head slowly and slowly sat back down to settle into the shifting sand. A good sign. A promise of rescue. 

“... So what should I do?” Spamton thought while his finger traced through the sand once more. 

No squares. No slashes or cleaves or broken boxes. Instead, Spamton willed himself to draw something else. Something good, hopefully something that would brighten up the space and give him some more positive feelings. Who knew how long he would have to wait, he didn’t want to sit around surrounded by images that upset him.

“Whatever you want. It’s just a waiting game right now.”

Spamton rolled his eyes with a short huff. Whatever he wanted… What if he didn’t know what he wanted to do? Might as well just keep sitting around and do nothing. As long as he did nothing, he wouldn’t risk doing something wrong. 

So Spamton just sat. His finger continued carving short valleys in the sand in long swirling patterns. Long curves, broken circles and abstract lines all working together to make nothing in particular. 

Drawing in the sand was the best way he could think to pass the time, even if it wasn’t particularly interesting. It’s not like he was going to ask that damn clown if he wanted to play cards or something. 

There was a shift in the atmosphere. Subtle at first, until a weight bore down on Spamton’s chest as if he knew these next few minutes were going to be unpleasant.

That clown didn’t even need to laugh, but he could still hear him form. His weight shifted the sand when his feet touched the ground, and the little bells adorning his outfit rattled when he shook his head.

Then he laughed. That awful, wicked laugh that hurt Spamton’s teeth like a knife against glass.

“Vee hee hee, you’re pathetic, pathetic!” The bells sewn to his jester’s cap clamored and chimed as he bounded forward, only to quiet when he leapt up into the air to float above Spamton’s head.

All these damn Card Darkners with their nonsense magics, all encapsulated in the clown who could do anything but shut the fuck up. Instead of entertaining him, Spamton looked in a different direction to avoid getting hit in the face by the bells hanging from his cap.

“Kick rocks, [Clown Around Town], I’m not in the mood.”

“Of course you aren’t, of course! But you should be~! You should be bounding with glee!”

“Yeah? And [Why, Oh Why!] is that?” Spamton asked with a sneer, his body shifted over so he wouldn’t be directly underneath Jevil anymore.

“Because you reached your goal, goal! You saw your Heaven, and wasn’t… it… beautiful…?” Jevil’s mouth pulled into a tight grin, jagged yellow teeth fully bared as he lowered himself back onto the ground.

Spamton snarled, a deep rumble emanating from his throat as he looked away. He didn’t want to go talking about that… especially not with the likes of Jevil. He wouldn’t understand. So he stayed quiet, but all this did was entice the jester further. In a moment, his smile softened to a pitying gaze, then he took a single, impossibly large step to reach Spamton and draped himself dramatically over his back.

“Oh, was the realm of Light too much freedom for the puppet, puppet?” He cried in a singsong voice, his weight bearing down on the former Addison.

“Shut up,” Spamton snarled as he jolted his back to shove him off.

Jevil laughed once more, then sat in the dune next to Spamton.

“What, I’m allowed to be curious, curious! Was it everything you could hope for and more?”

He grit his teeth and pulled his knees to his chest. The last thing he wanted to think of was the light world, but he knew that Jevil wasn’t going to let him go. That clown had a strange way of getting under his skin, he always did. He might not have that many memories of their first encounter, but this clown always knew how to push his buttons. Maybe it was their… mutual friend’s influence, maybe Spamton was just easy to read.

“... It hurt.” Spamton muttered, his voice as quiet as he could muster.

Jevil simply laughed, his face scrunched up as his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

“It wasn’t the light that hurt you, you just weren’t ready yet. You just need to get stronger, stronger!”

“Yeah, [Howsabout] I kick your [#$!$] again, get [Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger] like that?”

“Uee hee hee! You’ll find a more suited opponent soon, soon!”

Spamton rolled his eyes. Another prediction from the clown, though he hated how accurate they had been so far. In his strange roundabout way, he somehow knew everything he needed to. Of course he would convey that information in the most infuriating way.

“... You know we [Two Eggs, Beaten] you fair and square, and you haven’t even [Give Us Some[Delicis Kromer],” Spamton grumbled.

Jevil tutted and shook his head with a snicker.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I gave my previous visitors the last of my money!” He chirps, “You and your dear, deer friend only have your pride as the prize. And, my companionship of course.”

“[As If!] your [Lifelong Friendship] is a prize for me. The only reason I picked you up is because [Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor] wanted to have you back. The old you, the one that could [Pipe Down].”

Jevil’s smile grew wider, his jagged yellow teeth boring their way into Spamton’s sights as he floated just a little closer, “The me before you?” 

Even closer, so much so that Spamton hoisted himself back to try and avoid any sort of contact. He didn’t want to fight anymore, or touch him. He didn’t want to catch clown cooties. 

“... You say that like [Your] my [At Fault Accident].” 

“Oh but I am, I am!” Jevil roared cheerily as he heaved his hands up into the sky. “You opened my eyes, and now I’m free, free! And here you are, puppet…. You share in my freedom, and yet you’re trapped in the prison of your misery.”

Spamton rolled his eyes and retreated just a little farther back. Jevil hadn’t gotten any closer since he moved the first time, but the more distance he could get from him the better. Of course he was miserable, of course he was still in a prison. 

He was still a puppet, after all, Jevil hardly let him forget it. And despite how close he got to existing in the Light World, it wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t back in Queen’s basement, it wasn’t mere hours ago when he sealed that fountain, and it wasn’t now when he was still trying to wrap his head around everything he felt. 

A faint glimmer of light reflected off the lens of his glasses, prompting Spamton to push them up to avoid an irritating glare. No matter how brief it might have been, he kept his eyes shut to avoid the truth his glasses wanted to show him.

“... What do [You Want It] from me?” He grumbled, wrapping his arms around his knees with his gaze fixed on the jester.

“What I want? Vee hee hee! Look around, the possibilities truly astound! You are the God-King of this world! Mold it, mold it!”

Spamton snapped his jaw shut. In a moment, he grabbed a handful of frigid blue sand and threw it at the jester. Some of it struck his face, which prompted Jevil to wipe his eyes and mouth to rid him of the gritty substance. The smile only faltered for a second, but once it came back he finally let himself stand on solid ground again.

“[Wowie-Zowie], I molded it into a [Chance of Clouds] of sand to throw at you. Let me [Repeat The Beat!]” He grumbled as he hastily took another handful to throw at Jevil again.

Neither of them were laughing, though. The smile vanished from Jevil’s face, and Spamton’s jaw was shut so tight his teeth began to creak. More sand was thrown until it settled above Jevil’s feet and clung to his clothes. 

Then, just as Spamton grabbed another handful, the Jester spoke up.

“I’m serious, serious!” He said as he brushed the sand off his clothing.

Spamton lowered his hand, and the sand slowly slipped between his fingers until there was nothing left.

“You created this world. You trap yourself with grief and rage, the least you could do is decorate your cage,” Jevil said, his voice calm and even. 

It was very unlike the Jester, and even more unlike Spamton to want to listen to him. Even still, he found himself compelled to try. If this truly was his dark world, could he mold it as Tenna did his own? It wasn’t always TV World after all… it used to be the Dreemurr’s world until he remolded it in his image. 

With one final handful of sand thrown at Jevil for good measure, Spamton closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He could faintly recall visions of Tenna, his face beaming with pride from his new divinely appointed promotion to the leader of his Dark World. The air shifted with each breath he took, it billowed around him and picked up dust and sand that fell every time he pushed the air back out. Sands in the quiet place shifted with a simple wave of his hands. With the same effort it took for him to tie his shoes, he could craft entire buildings with little more than a thought and well placed gesture. 

It was a magnificent sight to behold. Even though Radio City still existed when he took over, Spamton was able to watch Tenna as he built TV City. An entire world reshaped like clay in his hands. 

And the new TV Studio, made in the outskirts of the newly reborn TV City, was built from nothing right in front of Spamton’s spellbound eyes. 

Spamton copied the motions to the best of his abilities, his eyes still shut tight while he tried to remember every beat perfectly. Every deep breath filled the empty cavity of his chest, cold air stung at his insides while he slowly rose to his feet. First, a single hand outstretched. Trembling fingers reached into the distance, deep breaths caused the sand beneath his feet to twist and shift away from him. 

Short spirals and swirls danced across the dunes, every grain clamoring to get on top of the other with each  twitch of his fingers. An index raised, the rest curled in, like a delicate spider weaving its web. Spamton recalled the smile on Tenna’s face when the mounds began to form. There was a grand flourish of his arms to pull the sand and snow higher until it changed colours and shifted into something a little more useful. From sand to wooden beams, then steel and fibreglass. Plaster and drywall, paint and pipes, until the studio had been born from nothing.

So he raised his hands high above his head, where he felt the rush of energy travel from the ground beneath his feet all the way to the tips of his fingers. It was electrifying, intoxicating, even. He felt every bit of it radiating through his Soul and thrum across his body while the sand continued to shift around him. His eyes remained shut tight, too afraid that if he opened them, he wouldn’t see anything. That it was all some cruel prank the jester was playing on him. 

Was this the power of a King? How much could he do? Could he teleport like Tenna? If Kings supposedly had total control over their realm, what else could he do?

Baby steps… besides, what use was practicing these abilities if Kris was just going to close the fountain as soon as they could?

His mind began to wander, his entire body trembled as if he was exhausting all of his strength. His legs, which often felt infuriatingly stiff, were beginning to falter. His arms had gone numb, occasional jolts of electricity shocking his joints to bring his focus back to the foreground. 

Suddenly he recalled the ending. For every new building, every Tenna-headed stanchion or fountain or artificial tree, it was all the same.

And so Spamton whipped his arms out one more time, the grand gesture accentuated by his head craning back as the last of this invasive energy left his body. A final, slow, heavy exhale forced all of the air from his body, and finally…

Spamton’s eyes opened just a crack, his vision unclouded by the pink and gold filter that used to plague him. Through crisp and true colours, he was able to see how the glass practically glowed with light it collected from the fountain. His eyes opened fully, perfectly fixed on the fruits of his labour. The object was so tall it practically scraped at the heavens above, made of a mosaic of glittering glass that twinkled every time the wind buffeted it with sand. Individual sparks of light captured his attention as he took uneven steps back to try and see the entire thing.

Finally when he stood far enough, Spamton was able to make out the details. Every panel and chunk of glass came together into a mosaic of the Delta Rune that shone so bright it reflected the Dark Fountain. Its wings were stretched far in either direction unburdened by gravity while the jagged edges of the angel's body swirled and shifted in a hypnotic motion. 

It worked… something so simple, a symbol he had seen and traced out and copied hundreds of times now laid before him. A mere test of his capabilities outshone what he possibly could have expected. 

Spamton swallowed the lump in his throat, his jaws snapped shut while he turned to look at his trembling, exhausted hand. Was this merely the power of a King? Or had the Soul granted him strength beyond normal capacity?

“Uee hee hee! Wonderful, wonderful! Such power, such poise! And such an interesting choice…” Jevil cheered, his gloved hands creating a dull clapping sound as he bounded from one piece of jagged glass to the next.

“Get down from there, [Heretic]! It’s [Blasphemy]!” Spamton snarled, his hands balled into tight fists as he watched Jevil hang off of the Angel’s wing.

“Your first creation as God-King! And you choose to make the Angel, the Angel! The Angel, who’s forsaken you so!” He floated up to rest on its wing once more.

Spamton’s eyes narrowed in response as he timidly clutched his arm. He would have preferred to pray in peace, but such a thing wouldn’t happen with Jevil climbing on the Icon as if it were a play structure.

“STOP THAT!” he snarled, stomping his foot into the loose dune.

Just as Jevil was about to respond though, something deep in the Icon pulled his attention away. His mouth curled into a devious smile, every other motion falling completely still.

“Tell me, puppet. Have you seen the Angel?” He asked curiously, the bells on his cap chiming as his head fell to the side.

“IT DOESN’T MATTER! NOW [Get Down]!”

Jevil snickered as he walked down as if he was on an invisible staircase.

“Very, very, interesting…” He mutters.

“What is?” Spamton asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, nothing. But the resemblance is uncanny, uncanny!” Jevil snickered.

Sometimes, Spamton really did hate how vague Jevil could be. He knew it was because the clown liked being antagonistic on purpose. He always has, and that’s what infuriated him the most. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to give the clown any more of the attention he so desperately craved. Instead, Spamton turned his attention back to the towering Delta Rune crafted from his own hands. A tightness formed in his chest as he looked up to it, then he slowly kneeled in the cold sand.

Was it true? Had the Angel truly forsaken him? All these years of devotion, all his prayers, all his worship, the Angel wasn’t a malevolent entity, was it? It wouldn’t just abandon him! 

Maybe… Maybe he just needed to pray again. It’s been too long, hasn’t it? He would have loved to, at The Sanctuary, if that opportunity hadn’t been robbed from him by a damned Ad Blocker around the Dark World. So Spamton’s eyes shut tight, his jaw hung slightly askew while he clasped his hands together against his forehead.

Oh Great Angel in the Heavens above, I come to you in my time of need and humbly ask for your guidance…

The words echoed across his mind, replaying every moment he’d ever called for the Angel. Every late night prayer, every Saturday in the chapel, every desperate call to the void, every day he spent in Queen’s basement, praying in front of that body so long his legs grew numb.

I’ve wanted to see the Light World for so long, I thought that it would be the answer to all of my prayers… A new start, a new life, a new chance to try again where people wouldn’t know me for… this….

A rush of air left his parted teeth, another breath pulled in to fill his hollow chest with cold air.

So why did it reject me…? I have the soul, shouldn’t that be enough? Am I still not strong enough? Why did everything hurt so badly…? What should I do so I can truly exist there, in the Light…? How can I get stronger…? What do I need to do…?

His breath hitched, his entire body lowered until his head touched the sand. His hands, still tightly clasped together, now laid in the sand.

I know I ask a lot of you… And I thank you, deeply and truly for the strength and guidance you’ve imparted in the past. Thank you for the strength you’ve given to persist while my body failed me in the Light World. Thank you for giving me the strength to open a Dark Fountain so I could return. Thank you for the power to mold this Dark World in my image as a God would their Kingdom.

Spamton paused, He felt the tension in his chest grow while hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

I’m not a God… I’m a humble servant, and I promise to use these gifts you offer to worship and devote myself to you further. Please, I ask that you protect Noelle. Please forgive me for hurting her, however I did. Please, I ask that you give me the opportunity to talk to her again so I can ask for her forgiveness too. 

He sniffed and pressed his eyes into his shoulder to dry his tears against his turtleneck.

Please protect Tenna… And please, show me how I can fix him. So he doesn’t have to suffer from my own bad choices.

He shifted again, his focus interrupted by a sharp pain in his pants pocket. The thought of that ring interrupted his prayers. A mere thorn in the Light World, its sharp point piercing the earth is what allowed him to make his Dark Fountain. Was this a sign? Was the Thorn Ring the key to Tenna’s safety? Was that what the Angel was telling him? No, no! That couldn’t be true, the ring was dangerous! Right…? 

Before he could give it more thought, Spamton clenched his jaw and resumed his prayer.

Please, help me get back to Castle Town so I can be with Tenna again… so I can help Kris and Susie and Ralsei. So I can-

 Suddenly Spamton’s attention was pulled away from his prayer by a voice calling out over the horizon. High pitch, twinged with stress and worry, even without the honorific in front of his name he could tell without any sort of confusion that it was Ralsei.

Thank the Angel above, his prayer had been answered.

“Mr. Spamton!” His voice approached over the shifting dunes, echoing across the desert until he was faintly visible in the distance.

“[Fluffy Prince]?!” Spamton called out in response, his neck outstretched to try and catch sight of Ralsei.

The Prince called out once more, this time with hints of relief upon finally getting a response. He approached rapidly, no doubt flying close to the ground until the distance had been closed completely. He felt the Prince slam into his body with nearly enough force to knock him over, their arms wrapped around each other in a relieved embrace.

“Mr. Spamton you’re safe, thank the Angel!” Ralsei cried, with his arms wrapped tight around the puppet.

He reciprocated with no resistance, and allowed himself to sink deep into the Prince’s soft fur and warm robes.

“Oh [Fluffy Prince] you have no [Clue: The Classic Mystery Game] how happy I am to [Sea] you…” He muttered quietly, rubbing Ralsei’s back before he pulled away.

Ralsei smiled in response, but his brow was tangled in a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite place and caked against his cheek-

“What happened to your face?!” Spamton asked in worry, his eyes wide with shock as he pulled a TV Time branded handkerchief from his inventory.

“O-oh, don’t worry, it’s fine, I’m fine! I-it’s not my blood,” Ralsei said with hesitation as he grabbed Spamton’s wrist.

The sudden contact didn’t keep the puppet from pressing the red handkerchief against his cheek. He muttered something about stains under his breath, then wet it with water from a cup of self branded tea he pulled from his inventory. Dried tears and blood smeared together and wiped away from Spamton’s caring yet aggressive hand, and once the red faded from pink to white, he was quick to wet another corner of the cloth and use it to smooth his fur back down in place. His eyes narrowed angrily, the handkerchief and tea vanished in a cloud of pixels once he grabbed hold of his hands.

“Well that doesn’t [Jelly-Filled Doughnuts for $6.99] me with [Gain Confidence With-]  either! [Oh Great Angel Above] as soon as we get [Home Sweet Home] I’m finding out who’s [Responsabible] and-”

“Mr. Spamton-”

“I [Bet30] that-”

“A bet, you say?” Jevil Snickered, his laughter interrupting Spamton’s thoughts.

“Shut the [!@#$] up! Was it one of those [Demons]?”

“Mr. Spamton,” Ralsei frowned and pulled Spamton’s hands down to rest at his sides.

A moment of silence hung between the two of them, so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Spamton didn’t dare speak, his eyes fixed on Ralsei. He could tell the prince was summoning the courage to say something important. He could see the hundreds of thoughts racing through his head, the way his eyes shifted around the Dark World. They settled for just a moment on the great big statue Spamton created, and for just a moment, his scowl grew. 

“.... What happened?” He finally managed to squeak out.

“Um…” Spamton’s eyes darted to the side, his arms pulled free from Ralsei’s grasp. “You’ll have to be more [Pespific]. But can we [Unlimited Talk and Text] when we get home?”

Another short moment of silence, and Ralsei’s shoulders hiked up to his ears. Suddenly his fur began to puff up in a desperate attempt to dissipate the nerves that plagued his body.

“No.” He said firmly.

Spamton paused, hesitating for a moment, then  he began to laugh. The clatter of his jaw betrayed him, showing just how nervous he felt as he took a step away to try and put some distance between himself and the other Darkner.

“Wh- no? C-c’mon, [Toothpaste Boy]! I don’t wanna go [Getting Stoned] here!”

“Except you won’t, will you?” Ralsei asked, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “You arent supposed to be here, you should already be stone. You know as well as I do that ou should have died in Queen’s basement and I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t bother me. Why are you here, Spamton! Why are you alive? How did you manage to make this icon, you aren’t a king, this shouldn’t be possible for you to make!” 

“Th- this thing? I-I didn’t-” He laughed once more, his focus set on the icon to try and detract from Ralsei’s other questions. “[Prince From The Dark] come on! You think I could [Master Build] THAT?! HAEHAHEHAHEHAHHE!” 

“Monuments like this don’t just spring up out of the ground. How are you here, Spamton? How are you so strong, you’re a faulty program-”

“I AM NOT A [Deffective]! I”M NOT A [Faulty Program] I’    MA [Personal Loans]!” Spamton snapped, his face deep red with an accusatory finger pointed to Ralsei. “i’VE GOT MY OWN [Thoughts And Prayers] AND RIGHT NOW I [Prayers] TO GET BACK TO [Cathode]!!!”

“Mr. Spamton you’re a darkner! You shouldn’t be able to-”

“I DON’T-” Spamton frowned, jaw shut with a frustrated scowl, “I D ON’’T [No]!! I DON’    T REMeMMEMBER! PL EaSE CAN WE GO [Low Monthly Payment Homes]! I JUST WNAT TO SEE T-T-[Trash Heap]!!”

Ralsei took another deep breath to calm himself and watched as Spamton began to pace. His face was deep red, his hands balled into tight fists that he would quickly raise to his head before letting them fall back down to his sides. 

No. He couldn’t hurt himself like that. It didn’t do any good, he didn’t want to worry the Prince. The Prince, who stood right across from him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to speak. He felt confident enough that Spamton wouldn’t hurt him, they got too close for that.

“I know you remember, Mr. Spamton! Please, tell me the truth!”

Spamton wheezed desperately as he pulled his hair, his jaw shut tight. If he had the energy he would have just grabbed Ralsei, gone NEO and crawled back to Castle Town himself. But even with the stress he felt, he just couldn’t gather the strength to summon the superior body. 

“I DON’ ‘T KNOW WhAT [You] WANT ME TO SAY, [Okay]? cAN WE PLEAsE-”

“I want you to tell me the truth!” Ralsei cried out, his hands pulled to his chest while he stepped back to avoid getting inadvertently hit.

Spamton stepped forward to close the distance, the top of his head shifted off of his jaw in a clean slice before correcting itself.

“I DON’T- I DON’T- I DON’T- I DON’T- I DON’T- I DON’T- I DON’T- I DON’T- [Hyperlink Blocked]” suddenly his head fell limp, his jaw hung open while static filled his eyes.

Ralsei’s breath caught in his throat, tears threatening to fall.

“P-please, Mr. Spamton… you’re scaring me…. M-Mr. Tenna said you came here with Noelle… Where is she…?”

Noelle… Her name cut through like a dagger. The flickering static faltered for a moment as her name danced on Spamton’s tongue, but he wouldn’t even try to utter it. And Tenna… of course he would say her name. Why wouldn’t he? No one told him not to. Deep breath, his heart and soul pounded in his chest. 

Count back from ten, picture his screen.

“... I don’t know,” he finally managed to say.

“Mr. Spamton I-”

“I don’t.” Spamton hissed, his arms wrapped around himself in a comforting embrace. “.... [Home Sweet Home], I think. She…. [Runned away] after the fountain closed.”

Ralsei paused, his eyes narrowed incredulously with his lips pulled into a tight frown. 

“What do you mean ‘after the fountain closed’? Kris is the only one who can close the fountains and they’ve been with me in the Sanctuary all day.”

Spamton willed himself to look away, his arms wrapped around himself in a comforting embrace. His Soul still roared in his chest, its warmth radiating across his whole body. It felt nice, as though they were telling him everything would be okay. 

His jaw opened for a moment as he struggled to find the words. He told himself that it was inevitable that Ralsei would find out, but, so soon? In such a complicated situation? Should he ask how best to broach the subject? Should he ask the Soul for guidance? His sight was pulled to the icon of the Delta Rune, as though it was beckoning him into its comforting embrace.

And then, all of Ralsei’s fur stood on end.

He could hear Ralsei pull in a sharp breath, sputtering out a string of filler words before forcing out a laugh.

“O-oh! Oh my goodness! Y-you must be… You must be so- w-worried! Uh-Te-Tenna! Mis-Mister Spamton why don’t you-”

Suddenly Spamton frowned, and turned to fully face the Prince.

“[Fluffy Prince] I’m not-”

“Please just- close your eyes! W-we should think-”

“[Toothpaste-”

“Just for a moment! J-just a-”

“PRINCE [Peachboy] LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE!” His voice wavered, and despite his low volume, the ground beneath their feet quaked.

Ralsei jumped in response, his shoulders pulled up to his ears while he tried desperately to dry the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Once that moment of frustration Spamton held disappeared, he pulled the TV Time handkerchief back out of his inventory.

“... Please listen to me. Me. Spa[Spamton G. Spamton],” He said, his voice soft and quiet to avoid startling Ralsei any more than he already had.

“Please, please just close your eyes…”

“[I Understand The Terms and Conditions] you’re afraid, and you’ve got every [Left] to be. All of this is scary, I [Know] that,” He began, folded cloth held out for Ralsei to take.

“Please…”

“I’m not going to [Closeyoureyes.mp3]... They [Be In The Know] that’s how you talk with Kris [In The Privacy Of Your Own Home], and they want to let you keep having that [Chance Of], but right now, I want them here. [Ok]?”

Slowly, hesitantly, Ralsei nodded his head as he reached for the handkerchief. The corner was pressed against his eye, the soft fibres soaking up the tears that clung to his fur while Spamton beckoned him to sit down. There were so many things he wanted to say, where to even begin? 

“[That Happened] when we fought in [Her Majesty]’s basement. Kris cleaved a piece of their [HeartShapedObject] to mine.”

“C-cleaved?” Ralsei asked, hesitating.

“Their words. They blessed me, they told me after all this time, everything I’ve been through, that I deserve to be….” He sucked in a breath, the very thought of it caused his heart to flutter. “Free… happy. But I couldn’t [Dewitt] alone. After all this time, [Waiting and Anticipating] for someone to pull my [Silly Strings], I wasn’t strong enough to live on my [Now Available to Own] And that’s the story you know, isn’t it?”

Ralsei nodded slowly, but he refused to look at the puppet. He could tell that Spamton wanted him to say what he knew.

“You… were supposed to lend us your strength, but- just as an item.”

“That’s [Correct!]”

“B-but, why? Why would they tempt fate like this…?”

“Because they’re kind, [Fluffy Prince]. Because they saw someone as [Broken] and [Beaten] and [Weak] as me, and they saw someone who deserved [Happiness 2.0]...” Spamton said softly, then finally looked at the prince. 

He was trying so hard to keep a brave face, trying his best to pull his lips into a weak and desperate smile. Forcing a smile like that wasn’t something Spamton would wish upon his worst enemy.

“Mr. Spamton… t-the Soul is dangerous, it’s too powerful for a darkner to wield.”

A weak laugh pushed its way out of Spamton’s throat as he slowly nodded his head. This was something he had become deeply aware of since the beginning of this whole experience, especially after that fountain was closed. This power he now wielded was dangerous, and terrifying, but all of this could be used to help. Not just himself, but the entire world. 

After all, he wasn’t just living for himself.

“I [No]. And I don’t want you [Worry Free] about that, okay? I can handle it. [Yes, Definitely, Absolutely!] helps that it wasn’t their [100% Whole Grain] [HeartShapedObject] like I was originally planning!” He laughed, much more lighthearted in hopes to ease the growing tension, “Just a piece. But it’s working. I’m getting [Stronger]. It’s… [Rated PG13 For Mild Horror], but it’s exciting too. Being able to help you [Ankle Biters] save the world, reunite with my [Cathode], to finally have someone who just… wants me happy, [No Strings Attached]....” The corners of Spamton’s mouth pulled into a smile, his eyes soft when he finally looked over to Ralsei.

He was still quiet, his eyes fixed on the ground while his words mulled over in his mind. All of this sounded nice, but could it all be true? What if the Soul was lying?

“But…” He hesitated, his muzzle scrunching up.

Spamton let the silence linger, both waiting for Ralsei to continue his thought while he also listened inward for any sign of the Soul. Certainly they would have something to say on the topic. And right on cue, as if his prayers for help were answered, their voice echoed across his heart and soul and guided his words.

“This isn’t something you need to [Carefully Tear Apart] over,” he began, a hand gently set on his back. “They aren’t some [Demon From The Depths] who wants to [Plunge The World Into Darkness]. Every time they spare a Dark      ner, every time they-” he let out a short chuckle as he rubbed his back. “Every time Kris [Hugs And] you,” suddenly his movements halted, and the smile vanished from his face.

The expression that replaced it was laced with sorrow, his chest heavy and his eyes wide while he looked down to the prince. He wasn’t smiling anymore, thank goodness. He didn’t need to.

“... When they told you [It’s Okay Not To Smile]... It’s because they care about us. They [High Quality Care] about you. They love this world, they love us, and they want to treat us with the kindness and compassion we deserve.” Spamton’s smile returned, soft and inviting and beckoning Ralsei to look at him. He kept his tone as kind as possible, and continued. “When you first met Kris, you told [Two For Once Specil] that their [Choices] mattered. That they could choose kindness. Your words have [Moar] value to them than you’ll ever know.”

It was as if a wave came crashing against the Prince. One moment he sat still, his gaze fixed on the glass Delta Rune that towered in front of them both. Then he finally managed to let go of the breath he was holding in. Ralsei’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, then he began to weep.

The tears fell steadily, they soaked into the fur covering his face and slowly washed away what remained of the blood clinging to his cheek. Short hiccuping sobs left his parted lips, his entire body trembling until Spamton pulled him into a tight embrace. Hot tears soaked into the shoulder of his white turtleneck, the shaking of Ralsei’s chest offset by the stability of Spamton’s. It took a while before Ralsei reciprocated, his arms wrapped tightly around the wooden torso while he continually apologized.

“I’m- getting tears all ov-er your shirt,” He whimpered.

“It’s fine,” Spamton responded softly.

“I don’t- m-mean to be a- a burden, I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t.”

“I’m so afraid.”

“That’s okay. This is scary. But you shouldn’t [Deal With It] alone.”

Ralsei sucked in a breath, his body still trembling while he buried his face deeper in the crook of Spamton’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to let go…”

“You [Don’t] need to. We can stay like this as long as you want.”

Tenna could wait. He was safe in Castle Town. Right now, Ralsei needed him much more.

Every ounce of air left Ralsei’s lungs, his deflated body still trembling against Spamton’s.The world was quiet around them, so still that even the wind stopped blowing. Even Jevil, who mere moments ago was staring at them and relishing in their shouting match had retreated back into the Devilsknife. 

Suddenly the air felt cold. Not unbearably so, but just enough for Ralsei’s fur to stand up while he hugged Spamton just a little bit tighter. With a final, deep, calming breath, he pulled himself away.

“... I’m sorry, Mr. Spamton….”

“Don’t [Apolohies], it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Spamton said softly, giving his shoulder a final squeeze before they both stood up.

They’ve dallyed long enough, it was time that they get back to Castle Town. Spamton took hold of the devilsknife that laid atop a sand dune, then gestured Ralsei forth with the nod of his head. It would be faster to fly home, but that eliminated the potential of a conversation.

So Ralsei took the lead, his hands carefully clutched behind his back while he retraced his steps westward.

“So…” He managed to squeak out, trying his best to fill out the empty space.

Spamton responded with a short hum and adjusted his grip on the devilsknife to rest it over his shoulder.

“Why… were you here, Mr. Spamton? Why was another fountain opened up in the card kingdom?”

Spamton let out a heavy sigh, his foot dragged through the sand so he could slide down a particularly tall dune.

“It [Open For Business] a little while after you left for the Sanctuary. We don’t know [Whodunnit] but I’ve got my theories.”

“We being you and the Soul?” Ralsei asked, earning a nod from Spamton.

“So I decided to [Check Out The Digs]. ‘Course, I can’t [Travel Plan] without you or a Light      ner, so we contacted [Snow Angel]. To carry me in her [Inventoriam], from [Home Sweet Home] through the [Light World], then back over here,” He explained, trying to be as clear as he could for the prince.

“That’s- mostly what Mr. Tenna told me, but… h-how did you contact her? That shouldn’t be possible! We aren’t-”

Spamton snapped his jaw shut to pull Ralsei’s attention away from his ruminating thoughts. He didn’t want to hear his rambles about how they “weren’t real” or shouldn’t be able to interact with the Light World. After all, he’s been chatting with Noelle over email for years. And not even three hours ago, he saw the Light World with his own eyes, felt it melt his flesh while something kept his body from falling apart completely.

“We used [Cathode] as an antenna, [Supercharge]d his circuits and used the [HeartShapedObject] to channel the signal and break through the barrier,” He shoved a hand into his pocket so he could feel the handkerchief again

“You- Mr. Spamton you can’t just-”

“I know, kid. It was a [Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad] whim decision and…” His jaw tightened, “[Cathode]’s body didn’t really appreciate it. I don’t think anyone [Understand The Terms And Conditions] what they were looking at, at least, but [Trash Heap]’s been having issues with [Light] World signals breaking through and…” He sighed, his words training off as he shook his head. 

“I… think I saw that happen. When him and I were near the door, he just froze up. The weather network played on his screen. It looked like it hurt but he told me he was fine.”

He didn’t want to think any more about how he might have hurt Tenna, especially not with someone who was as familiar with technology as that boob tube was with email. So Spamton rubbed his arm and looked over to Ralsei for a moment while he tried to find the right words.

“ I'll figure out what's wrong with him. I [Bet30] you—” the Devilsknife laughed, prompting Spamton to shake it. “Shut up-! I bet [Mr. Know-it-all] has some questions?” Spamton joked, earning another small laugh from the Prince.

“I…. Suppose I do. I'm sorry, Mr. Spamton…. It's just— odd. Earlier, you said that Noelle fled after the fountain closed. Does that mean you opened this new fountain?” Ralsei asked, prompting Spamton to nod once more. “But that shouldn’t be possible for a darkner. It shouldn’t be possible for you to go into the Light World! Oh Angel Above what’s going to happen to you if The Roaring happens…?”

Spamton’s steps slowed to a halt, his eyes narrowed for a moment. According to the Prince, Darkners shouldn’t want for anything either. They shouldn’t have dreams or aspirations beyond the will of the Lightners. Maybe this could be a learning experience for the Prince as well.

“... [Fluffy Prince] I’m not entirely sure I’m following [The Rules Of The Game], anymore. A Dark    ner shouldn’t have a human [Heartshapedobject] to begin with, we should stop worrying about what’s possible and focus on [What’s Hip And Happening!]” 

“I’m just- trying to wrap my head around the meaning of all of this. This shouldn’t be possible! Mr. Spamton… I’m very worried about what this could mean. E-even now you aren’t…” He hesitated, his eyes fixed on Spamton’s ball jointed hands. 

This wasn’t the body of an Addison, or any other sort of Darkner. The energy it let off was strange, almost sinister. Like it was designed to be a curse, molded from darkness itself.

“Mr. Spamton… Can you tell me where you got that body?”

Spamton let his words linger, then looked away. “Nothing [Light]    ner about it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“S-so this body’s made of pure darkness…?”

“[Parameters Undefined].”

 Ralsei’s chest sunk, his brow tangled in worry. The soul was dangerous if he was just a darkner, but if this wasn’t even made in Darkness, that was even more volatile. If it came from the third place, that was a level of danger that truly terrified the prince.

“... Mr. Spamton… the power of the soul is dangerous. It’s… volatile, it can hardly be contained and I’m very worried about how it could be interacting with your body in the long term. You…. aren’t normal. You aren’t meant to hold this power. The determination required just to keep it contained is far beyond the scope of a Darkner. N-not even I could…” 

Their steps slowed to a halt in front of the gilded gate that separated the Card Kingdom and Castle Town. Shut tight with no way to break through, only the prince could open it. Spamton didn’t respond, thousands of thoughts ran through his mind about everything he was saying. He always knew he was an outlier, he always knew the universe loved to torment him, but maybe he really was spending too much time going with the flow when he should be asking questions.

Was possessing the Soul really that dangerous?

What could this mean for the fate of the world? 

Could this power be used to change it? To defy the prophecy?

What the hell was a Spiders Georg and why was the Soul likening him to it?

Spamton adjusted his grip on the Devilsknife and let his feet sink slightly into the sand. All they needed to do was open that door and this whole nightmare would be over. He could go back to Tenna, get rid of this damned clown, and when the time came, go back to help the kids wherever the Knight dragged them to next. Maybe if he was lucky he would get the chance to punch them in the face. Or rip off their arms. Or slice them in two. Or-

“-I understand you said it was just a fragment, and maybe that’s what’s giving it a false sense of stability, but even so the theoretical power to hold a human soul, it’s-” Ralsei hesitated, looking to the puppet for a moment before he turned back to the door. “It’s… akin to a titan. And it’s only a matter of time before it takes its toll.”

Deep in the distance, Spamton swore he heard a dog howl. A horrid feeling bubbled up inside him, his chest tightening with fear.

“... Let’s not [Think About It] for now. I just want to get [Home].” Spamton responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

It could be tomorrow’s problem. It would have to be. Just wait until they were safe, everything would be okay once they got home.

“Right. It’s about time we put this adventure behind us isn’t it…?”

A soft glow enveloped Ralsei’s hand as he raised it high in the air. With a single pulse, the door opened with a loud creak. Just enough for the two small darkners to slip through and return to Castle Town. 

The crowd that used to surround the great door had vanished, and all that remained was a single TV headed darkner who waited with baited breath until he could see the tiny puppet emerge from the door. He barely even made a step before he felt Tenna’s arms wrapped around him.

“Spamton!” His voice was like music to his ears, a warmth spreading across Spamton’s body as he melted into his arms. “Thank the Angel you’re okay… please don’t ever scare me like that again, are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh, thank you, Ralsei.”

Spamton took another deep breath, running his fingers over the soft fabric of Tenna’s button down. Even if the two others were still talking, he wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t want to think about anything that just happened, and the sooner he could get Jevil back to Seam the better. 

The nightmare was over, he was back home, so why hadn't the dread subsided?