Chapter Text
The story goes that after the GREAT WAR between the humans who were led by Toriel, the GENTLE MOTHER and the creator of all life, and the GODS who were led by the terrible, oppressive and bloodthirsty king of GODS and god of the sky, ASGORE, the realm where the gods lived in, which was located in the forbidden Mountain of Ebbot, was spilt.
Whether the GENTLE MOTHER was banished from her home for going against her own kind or chose to leave on her own, the humans didn’t know. All they knew was that if it weren’t for her and the love she had for her creations, their entire race would have been obliterated by the cruel and unforgiving gods that the humans once worshipped.
And now every year since the day the gods raced back to their homes in the forbidden mountain admitting defeat, never to been seen or worshipped by the humans again, the humans thanked their GENTLE MOTHER for the sacrifices she made to save them.
And to show her how truly grateful they were, each year they held an annual celebration in her honor, The Festival of Life and Freedom. A festival that let her know that even though the war ended many years ago, the humans still remembered everything she did for them. That even though the Gods of Death may take their SOULS to the Underworld at any time, they could never take the humans’ hope away that the earth will forever belonged to them. The GENTLE MOTHER would make sure that their children would inherit the earth and their children’s children would inherit the earth and their children’s children’schildren would inherit the earth.
Generations of humans may die but the GODS could never truly kill them. Their race and the world they lived in would live on.
It was rumored that was the last thing the GENTLE MOTHER spat at ASGORE before she left Mount Ebott never to been seen again by the GODS and even though the humans themselves never saw her after the war, they knew she was watching over them. Blessing them.
And so every year as the final rays of the sun left the floor of the earth, thousands of lanterns were lit up all at the same time from different areas of the world, disgracing the darkness of the oncoming night, as humans from all walks of life found themselves at the center of their small villages, large towns and big cities.
And what a colorful parade of people it was. The females wore brightly colored tunics and togas of all kinds with golden flowers lovingly weaved in their hair and no matter what the age, every lady wore a purple scarf around their shoulders that softly swung behind them in the warm wind as they giddily and happily chatted with their friends or with their children or with their husbands or lovers as they made their way to their towns’ squares.
The men wore purple togas, much longer and more flowing than they were used to, some even tripping, stumbling and falling over the material but they still walked with pride and puffed up their chest for all to see the symbols that were stitched into their clothing: a circle with wings floating above three triangles. The universal symbol of the GENTLE MOTHER who was always watching over her children.
And while the men were nowhere near as bright or as flashy as the ladies of their towns, they easily matched their female counterparts’ excitement. Some men even going as far as grabbing their partners or children and swinging them in the air, eliciting screams of happiness even before the event began.
For humans, this night was as the single greatest night of the year. Almost all humans were excused from their daily chores on the day leading up to this sacred night and many of them took it upon themselves to set up the festivities for the night. They woke up at the crack of dawn before the sun came up and poured everything they had in their SOULS to decorate their towns’ squares.
And while they all knew the GENTLE MOTHER loved each one of them dearly and would bless them regardless of how humble or extravagant their celebrations to her were, most humans couldn’t help but hope their tributes would personally be noticed by the GENTLE MOTHER. And as a reward for their devotion and love, the GREAT MOTHER would send her beloved daughter, the demi-goddess, Frisk to visit them during their celebration.
Nobody knew for sure how Frisk was created or what the GENTLE MOTHER made her out of since she was neither fully human nor fully a GOD, but the humans DID know the demi-goddess was created after the war between the humans and the oppressive GODS. And as far as the humans were concerned, Frisk was part of their savior and so everybody desired to see her. They viewed Frisk as a sort of messenger from the GENTLE MOTHER.
But getting the demi-goddess to visit was a mystery. The humans didn’t know what attracted Frisk’s attention to certain areas. It seemed the demi-goddess chose places at complete random.
And so with that in mind, no expenses were spared as the more wealthy humans poured their money in the festivals ensuring that everybody would leave with huge smiles on their faces.
And as more and more humans poured into their towns’ squares until not even a SOUL was left in a single home, they waited. Children twitched, fidgeted, stomped their feet and whined good-naturedly, some holding onto their parents’ hands, waiting for their guardian's’ permission to play while the older and more knowledgeable children looked towards their area’s leader like a majority of the impatient adults were doing.
They waited with bated breath. And as the sun finally left their sights, their area's’ elected officials turned towards the impatient crowds and screamed what they all were waiting to hear:
“LET US THANK THE GREAT MOTHER FOR HER LOVE AND PROTECTION!”
And with those words, the world became a bright ball of animated life. The humans broke out into their long-awaited yearly celebration.
Musicians played hard and long throughout the night for hours on end, sweat pouring from their heads, but the joy of being alive and the love they had not only for their own people but for the GENTLE MOTHER who was no doubt watching their display of thanking her for her gift of life and protection overpowered any minor and insignificant discomfort them might be experiencing. They would play for eternity if they knew that would please the GENTLE MOTHER.
And as the music played and swelled, loud laughter from both children and adults soared through the air. Children ran all around the lighted area of their dark homes, playing silly games they always played during the day but there was a more chaotic and powerful feeling of playing those same games at night without having to be scared of the dark that made the children just a tad bit wilder.
The humans adults and teenagers danced, the ladies’ long and beautiful scarves flowing behind them like a pair of purple wings as their dance partners spun and twirled them to the beat of the music while the men tried their hardest to look gracefully as they danced but more than once found themselves tripping over their togas and stumbling to the ground. Sometimes they fell by themselves and sometimes they brought their partners or another dancer down with them but no matter what it evoked more good-natured laughter from all the other dancers surrounding them before those same people helped the fallen ones back on their feet.
And the smell of delicious food was everywhere. Cooked meats and desserts filled every nostrils and were offered freely to all who desired them, but the scent that overpowered all else was the faint aroma of cinnamon and butterscotch. Even those who didn’t like pie would have a slice simply because it was tradition.
And the shouting. More than once a human’s voice would manage to rise above the music and noise to shout a praise for the GENTLE MOTHER and it would be met with thunderous applause. And so the celebration went.
The adults danced, kissed their lovers and drank heartily while the children played and ate sweets. And even as they enjoyed their holiday, they waited and hoped to see if their devotion would bring the GENTLE MOTHER’s beloved daughter to their homes.
However on this particular year, in a tiny village that was celebrating with just as much joy and happiness as any large city was doing, Nectara, a young girl in her seventeenth year, was dancing merrily with her soon to be husband when she felt a shy tug at the bottom of her tunic.
Halting her dance and giving her lover a puzzled smile both of them turned to see who had wanted her attention.
Still holding a bit of the lady’s dark blue tunic in her hand was a beautiful little girl who looked like she was in the ninth year of her life. Much like the other children, this child wore bright colors but unlike them her toga was two different colors dyed into the material instead of one solid color. It was a design that Nectara had never seen before, almost like the child’s toga had…. strips of pink and blue. The toga itself was a little bit too big for her as evident by the way the child kept having to pull the strap up, but her purple scarf was neatly wrapped around her shoulders. She wore a crown made of golden flowers on top of her head that nearly covered her eyes, but based on the way she tilted her head up gave Nectara the impression the child could see perfectly fine through her golden blindfold.
Nectara had never seen this child in her village before but that didn’t mean anything. Families that lived in different villages often visited to celebrate together.
The child gave a little bow.
“Hello beautiful lady, may I have a dance with you?” the child asked, a small seductive smirk on her face.
Nectara’s lover laughed loudly and nudged her playfully while she giggled at the strange child’s odd but bold request. And just as she was about to bow to accept the child’s dance offer, her smile vanished when she noticed something by the child’s feet. And it would seem that at the same time everybody in her village noticed the same thing about this child that brought everything to a screeching halt. The music stopped playing, the people stopped dancing and the children stopped running about.
The child wore no shoes and while that was an odd thing to see, what was even more incredible was seeing beautiful flowers blooming out of the earth that weren’t there before in the shape of tiny child-like footprints leading up to the child that was still holding unto Nectara’s tunic.
The silence stretched. Fear, excitement, and disbelief filled Nectara’s mind as realization struck her and when she looked around the familiar faces of the people she grew up with, their expressions seemed to mimic her feelings. And when she look down at the child again, the arrogant and flirty smile on the little girl’s face had vanished. In it’s place was an uneasy smile as the little one looked around the crowd that was now staring at her in complete silence and after a few seconds she gave a nervous laugh and a fake cough before she directed herself at the stunned teenager.
“So…”the demi-goddess, Frisk tried again as she smiled up at Nectara, “is that a yes or a no?”
And screams praising the GENTLE MOTHER raised up in the air as the music began again and without further delay, Nectara grabbed the child, taking on the role of the male dancer and spun the laughing child around.
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It was more a self-banishment as opposed to an actual blandishment. After the Great War between the humans and Gods ended, Toriel was never officially banished from her home on Mount Ebott even though the Gods and Goddesses that fought against her, particularly the Goddess of War, Undyne, voiced that desire.
But for as much as they shouted curses to her face during the war and muttered unkind things behind her back after the war, the gods were surprised and taken aback when she never came back to make amends with her husband or with the other gods. It made sense that during the war she lived among the humans. So after the war all the Gods expected her to returned to her home and to some extent the Gods had been right.
But instead of living among them at the top of the mountain and resuming her title as Queen of the Gods, she chose to live on an area of land at the very bottom of the mountain close to the barrier that separated the Gods’ realm from the human’s world, which often was referred to as the Ruins by the other Gods.
The area was nicknamed that because of how ruined the soil was from the magical effects of the barrier killing anything that tried to grow there and many of the Gods and Goddesses had giggled and laughed when they saw it was the area Toriel chose to build her new home in.
Of course the laughter stopped and turned to shock and annoyance when, only after a few months, the once barren wasteland was now bright green with healthy grass, a sparkling small pond now simmered beautifully outside the tiny cottage and vibrant and colorful wildflowers of all kind grew everywhere that almost, but not quite put Asgore’s own private garden to shame. The shock was short lived as a majority of the Gods and Goddesses turned to one another and muttered in hushed voices seeing something like that should have been expected. After all, Toriel did have the power to bring life to anything.
But despite her rebellious acts of defiance the other gods and goddesses knew it was only a matter of time before she cracked and returned home to Asgore, who had made it clear almost instantly he still desired her even though she had outright betrayed her own people. And once she did crack and come home, she could use her influence over the humans to allow them to welcome back the Gods and Goddesses they once worshiped and over time, the Gods and Goddesses were sure they would be able to win back their positions of power over the humans.
Or at least that was the plan.
And so they waited. And waited. Days turned into months and months turned into years and years turned into decades and during the time they waited, the Gods and Goddesses threw parties constantly, at first to celebrate the fact that, for awhile at least, they wouldn’t have to deal with ungrateful humans. They played their music loud and nonstop, hoping Toriel would hear it.
And as the years continued, the parties and the games and the laughter began to feel a little strained. And suddenly the parties were no longer a fun event but rather a thing to help pass the time. And suddenly being stuck on a mountain seeing the same people over and over again was becoming torturous. And knowing their special talents, gifts and ideas they could offer the humans were being wasted was downright painful. So painful in fact that even the Goddess of War, Undyne suddenly wished they hadn’t been too hasty when they declared war on humanity all those years ago.
They all wanted to have the freedom they once had to come and go as they please. To share their gifts and see their ideas come to life in the human world. But...
Toriel was the only way for them to regain their places in the human world without another war starting. Humans may have lost a lot more lives in that war but the fact they somehow managed to achieve the unbelievable and kill a few gods even with the gods of death against them was...haunting. And so the gods and goddesses needed to come up with an idea.
And one day, on the very day when the humans were celebrating The Festival of Life and Freedom, the gods and goddesses came up with a plan that could very well help make amends with their lost sister.
Toriel woke up in a half snore as somebody knocked on her door and her very first groggy thought was her child was finally back from the celebrations. And as she woke up further, moaning, her joints aching as they always did when she fell asleep in her chair, she realized the person at her door could not have been her child.
Why would her child be knocking on her own door? And when that thought entered her head, Toriel immediately tensed up, pushing herself out of her rocking chair and walking to the door. It had been...years since she last had a visitor and the thought of that particular visitor caused Toriel to tightened her paws into fists as an unintentional snarl left her mouth.
Many years ago before she created Frisk, and a little after the war ended, her one and only visitor came knocking on her door and when she opened it she saw Asgore valiantly holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers up to her face. His eyes had softened and filled with a passionate love as he looked her over. He offered a truce along with his undying love declaring that no matter what any of the other Gods and Goddesses said he still loved her.
“My love...my darling wife...please come back to our home,” was his plea and he eagerly waited for her response.
And respond she did. Only instead of a lover’s embrace like he expected, she hurled a series of fireballs at him, setting his beard and flowers on fire as he tried his best to dodge them and when he realized she wasn’t gonna stop he rushed back up the mountain.
After that nobody else visited her. Until tonight that was and while seeing her murderous and disgusting ex-husband sent a slimy lump down her throat, the thought of setting him on fire again made her smile and so as she opened her door, she started to channel her magic into her hands. The tips of her claw began to glow a faint orange. The odor of smoke hit her.
Her visitor was not Asgore. Nor was it any god or goddess she knew. In fact if it weren’t for the man’s gray skin she would have honestly thought a human had finally managed to break through Asgore’s barrier.
And looking past the unusual gray skin, Toriel knew the humans would have found this man incredibly handsome. His hair was pure black and styled so that his bangs covered his left eye while his other eye was a bright and lively pink. He was tall and tone with very curvy legs and he must have known that because he wore a short and silky pink toga that fell just below his thighs showing every detail of his legs off.
When she opened the door, he immediately flashed her a very pretty and white smile. He opened his arms wide as though he were going to embrace her and if he were blessed with intelligence, his arms better not find themselves around Toriel’s body.
“Darling! How have you been?”
Toriel blinked. The voice sounded familiar, incredibly familiar but she didn’t recognized the face and his face was definitely something she would never forget. The gray man’s smile widened as Toriel stood unresponsive in the doorway.
“Come now Toriel, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me!”
And then it clicked with the Goddess of Life. The man standing at her doorway was the God of Art...Mettaton. The goat goddess blinked again.
Mettaton…
And the memories came flooding back to her. Before the war she and the other Gods and Goddesses would spent hours listening to his pretty words of poetry or watching his over-dramatic plays that couldn’t helped be loved by all, including Toriel herself. But…
Her body stiffened with dislike.
She also remembered him to be a vain and pompous man, constantly changing his appearance on a whim with the help of that spineless Goddess of Intelligence Alphys, and now it appeared he wanted look like the race of people her husband tried to destroy. But that wasn’t what made Toriel’s dislike for him start brewing in the pit of her stomach.
While some artists had a tendency to be reserve-snobs, this God treated some of the lesser Gods more poorly than he should of.
“Mettaton…” she said coolly as if this wasn’t the first time she had spoken to another god in over three hundred years, and looked past him to make sure Frisk was not entering through the barrier but she doubted her child would be back so early.
The night was still young as the humans would say and if everything went smoothly, Toriel would no doubt see her child stumbling in their home on exhausted feet in the early morning, face covered in sticky residue from the many sweets she devoured with stories to tell about how many people she danced with or the games the human children taught her.
It was the one year of the night where Toriel allowed her to cross the barrier and join the humans in their yearly celebration. It was Frisk’s favorite day of the year, Mother’s day she called it and even though her child often begged her to attend the celebrations as well, Toriel would quietly shake her head, leaving the child only minorly disappointed but not enough to crush her excitement.
While Toriel did love her creations and watched over them from a distance to make sure they lived peaceful and fulfilled lives, she preferred not to attend their celebrations. The only time she attended one was years ago when her child had first learned to walk and the goat goddess had watched with horrified fascination at how...completely devoted the humans were to her. They screamed out her name, they praised her to no end and they danced hard until the first rays of light broke up their parties.
It was...unsettling. Granted they worshiped her before the war but these displays of devotion were...a little too much. If they were celebrating life in general, Toriel would probably joined in on the festivities herself. No she would have hosted the events herself if they were merely celebrating life but they made Toriel the focus on their celebrations.
But despite her unwillingness to go, Frisk made it clear from the first time she saw the humans celebrate that she wanted to be part of all that fun. And knowing how lonely a life of isolation could be, Toriel agreed her daughter could go but with all the caution of a nerve-wrecked mother.
The child would wear a crown of flowers and the very moment those flowers detected even the smallest injury on the demi-goddess, Frisk would immediately be teleported back to Toriel’s home.
Luckily, throughout the years Frisk had attended the festival, not once did she return home against her will. And during that time Toriel would realize how lonely and quiet her home was without her beloved child.
“What brings you here?” She finally asked when she was sure not even a brown hair on Frisk’s head was coming towards them. While she knew that the other Gods and Goddesses most definitely had found out about Frisk at this point, Toriel didn’t know what they thought of her which was one of the reasons why Frisk never left Toriel’s sight.
In was kind of funny, on nights like tonight when Frisk entered the human world on her own, Toriel felt easy about her child’s safety, but when she was playing in their own front yard, Toriel was constantly on edge, looking up at the top of the mountain to make sure that no revengeful god or goddess swoop down and killed the half-human half-god being.
Ignoring her icy tone and humming what she imaged was the his most fashionable song at the moment, Mettaton reached into the pocket of his toga and pulled out a decorative scroll, holding it out dramatically for her to take.
Toriel made no move to take it.
“Darling, your presence is requested and desired for Asgore’s latest celebration-”
With a stoically cold face, Toriel slammed the door on Mettaton and started to walk back into her living room when she heard a tapping on her window. She glared in the direction of the noise to see Mettaton’s face pressed against the glass. If she weren’t so annoyed she might have been amused at how ridiculous he looked.
“Peek-a-boo! I see you,” he said and despite herself Toriel almost laughed. Instead she walked up to the window and began to close the curtain and as she lowered them, Mettaton lowered his head so his eyes could still be on hers.
“Oh come on darling, it’s just a party,” he begged only to have Toriel shut the curtain fully on him.
She grunted in satisfaction until she saw Mettaton’s face in a different window, tapping that one as well to get her attention.
Is he serious? The goddess thought as she walked over to the window to cover it up as well.
“Look darling, we all miss you dearly. It’s not just Asgore who wants you to return-” Mettaton began to say only for his sentence to be interrupted by the curtain.
Sighing ,Toriel looked over to her final exposed window and sure enough there he was and as she started to walk over to that window, Mettaton’s playful smile disappeared and was replaced with a more grim look.
“You weren’t the only god that wanted the humans to win the war, my beautiful lady.”
Toriel halted her actions and snorted out a bleat.
“Wasn’t I?” she said coldly. “I’m sorry but if I recall correctly I do believe I was the only goddess who was fighting alongside the humans. Where were these so-called other gods and goddesses who wanted humanity to live?”
Maybe it was the total disdain in her voice but Mettaton actually took a step away from the house and needed to take a moment to compose himself before he answered and when he did, he didn’t sound so...confident anymore.
“Do you recall any of the merchant gods or goddesses fighting against the humans, darling? Or the Fire God of Celebration and Festivals giving his loyalty to Asgore? Or did you see my cousin offering his magic to kill the humans off? Or did I ever harm a human during the war?” Mettaton gave out a little laugh. “Come to think of it I never harmed a single human in my life. I loved humans…” he looked pleadingly at Toriel. “I still do.”
When she didn’t respond, Mettaton continued.
“We wanted to oppose the war but what could we do? What could we say? We aren’t strong like you, Toriel. We are not strong enough to oppose Asgore and our talents could not help you. The best thing we could have done was remain neutral. You know that too, don’t you darling?”
Toriel felt her hard composure softened and hated it. Yes...she supposed Mettaton was correct. While the stronger Gods and Goddesses were seen on earth during the war, killing humans by the hundreds, many of the the weaker ones did not enter the battlefield. It was something Toriel had noticed but that still didn’t ease the pain of watching her creations being killed off in the most painful fashions while the weaker Gods and Goddesses watched on without even trying to help in anyway possible. But she supposed Mettaton was right about that one too. What can Grillby, the God of Celebration do? Get everybody so drunk nobody would want to fight?
She looked at Mettaton again and suddenly a fresh frenzy of memories began to invade her mind. Yes the God of Art was vain and arrogant, but he also was the God who brought all forms of art to the humans and filled their world with color and music. He was the God who spent tireless hours running through the human realm, encouraging and pushing people to create beautiful music, new types of clothing, and different types of literature. And yes he was a God who did not involve himself in the war.
Mettaton smiled at her sheepishly. “I’m not going to lie to you, that would insult your intelligence, darling. This invitation was devised by Asgore as an attempt to win you back,” he paused for Toriel to laugh before he continued. “But I didn’t say anything against his idea because I know this is the only chance we have to make peace with you again.”
At those words, Toriel’s ears perked up.
“I am no longer quarreling with you-”
Mettaton nodded. “Yes but you left no kind or gentle words or offerings of peace for the gods and goddesses who refuse to fight with Asgore. You left them with your hatred and I know I may be overstepping my lines with the Goddess of Life, but that’s not fair.”
Toriel blinked at the statement before a powerful feeling of shame hit her.
Mettaton pulled out the invitation again and lightly tapped it on the window that separated the two powerful beings.
“This invitation is a way to bridge that gap, darling. Give us the peace and forgiveness many of us had longed for for so many years but have been too terrified to ask you for. Come to the party. Enjoy the food and drinks and rebuild the friendships we all lost” and as he said that, Mettaton looked around the area that Toriel now called home.
“It must be so terribly lonely here.”
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While he tried to focus his attention on tending to his garden Asgore’s eyes kept wandering towards the door. He was waiting for Mettaton’s return. For Toriel’s response.
If she said no then things would remain as they were now for hundreds of years to come until the Gods and Goddesses were only a fairy tale or myth for the humans of the future...but if she said yes…
If she said yes, hope would bloom for better days to come for the Gods and Goddesses who truly did want to return to the human world. Asgore chuckled sadly he delicately ran his thumb and index finger through a bright purple flower petal.
Who knew that Gods and Goddesses would ever need hope to live in their paradise world? Asgore never thought they would and yet here he was, standing in his beautiful garden, hoping Mettaton would come back with the answer all of them wanted.
And when the odd gray and pink god came rushing into his garden with a huge smile on his face, Asgore didn’t need to be told what her answer was. Hope and happiness bloomed violently in his chest.
“My King, she said yes! Toriel said she will be attending the party tomorrow evening! Isn’t that smashing?” Mettaton reported.
Asgore broke into loud laughter as he placed his hands on Mettaton’s shoulders.
“This is most joyous news, Mettaton! How did you managed to-”
“ i do so hate to interrupt this happy moment, my king, but i just wanted to stop by to get my invitation to this latest shin-done-dig ,” a deep voice chuckled at his own joke as he interrupted the King’s sentence.
Mettaton’s smile disappeared and the king saw the gray God of Art visibly shake as did most Gods and Goddesses did whenever the rarely seen Second God of Death made his appearance known. Giving Mettaton a small and reassuring smile, Asgore turned towards Sans.
The skeleton was standing on a small barren part of Asgore’s garden, the closest flower to him was the lovely blue echo flowers. One of Asgore’s favorite types of flowers.
Dressed in a hooded black tunic, the skeleton God pulled the hood back almost as if to show Asgore he truly was Sans, the God of Death before he offered a bow to the King of all Gods with a wide mocking grin on his face.
“ it seems that when alphys was handing out invitations she gave my brother his, but neglected to give me mine. a mistake no doubt,” Sans said as his grin stretched.
That was no mistake Sans, Asgore thought but didn’t have the heart OR courage to say it aloud. We don’t need you coming to this one. If Toriel sees you, there will be no talk of peace among the humans and Gods.
“ so did i just overhear toriel is gracing us with her presence? i guess it’s kind of weird but lucky that out all the parties i decided to skip this is one i want to attend,” Sans chuckled again and held out his bony hand expectedly for his invitation.
Asgore took a deep breath, wondering how he should explain why Sans couldn’t come to this event without insulting the God of Death.
“Sans, please understand I don’t think you-”
All the words froze up in his throat as Sans moved so that his foot just barely touched an nearby echo flower. All the flowers in that area instantly lost their vibrant colors and shriveled up before exploding into small piles of dust. Mettaton’s eyes widened in horror while Asgore swallowed nervously.
Sans looked at his little display of destruction with a small smile before he widened his pitch black sockets with fake distress.
“ oh my, i’m so sorry, my king!” he said before a cold grin erupted on his face. “ now what were you saying?”
Asgore swallowed again. “I’ll...I’ll make sure you get your invitation.”
The skeleton chuckled, winking his socket at the visibly shaking king. “ thank you. i knew you would never insult me by intentionally not inviting me to a party where toriel would finally be attending. just the thought that i can finally make amends to the goddess of life for my actions against her creatures is making these ol’ bones of mine rattle..”
Asgore managed a smile. “Let...let me get your invitation.”
The skeleton chuckled again.