Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Accepted into the Wyrda

Error felt a warping in the wyrda around him. He put down his needles and strings. His Soul pulsed. The glitch stared at the wall, feeling like….
He was accepted somehow?

All he knew was that he was at last being drawn in to something, the invisible, long inactive strings of Fate from the Multiverse seemed to burn. Error gasped, sensing them wisp away into oblivion.
With a frantic burst of controlled hope, he pulled out his Soul.

He felt nothing. No constricting, choking, malevolent red strings that glowed harsh bronze whenever he reached for them. Error blinked back tears, not wanting to believe it.
He looked around, expecting it to be a trick..
Nothing. Just.. a moment of Wyrda finally pulling him into it's embrace. He felt his tears pooling out of his eyesockets as he accepted the new existence. Anything was better than Fate. He sobbed, a knot of tension he never knew he had slowly untangling itself.

__________

Horror and Geno were talking when they felt it. Geno's glitch vanished, revealing his melted eyesocket as Horror's eyelight turned a burnished silver with streaks of rustic bloody light. A faint eyelight the color of dried rose petals and old blood flickered in his empty socket. Geno's one eyelight blazed blue and red as his scarf drifted in non-existent wind.

They stared at each other, not knowing what was happening. "Wyrda." They both said.

All lights in the room flickered as they sensed the tremendous power shift, probably reverberating throughout all of Tronjhiem. Then the fabric of reality settled down once more.

Vanyalíkyn.
Andlát-kyn.
Astorí eom Alagaësia.

They slowly traced their gazes back to each other.
"Let's not mention this to the others, alright?" Geno asked in Wingdings.
"Agreed. This is freaky…"

______

Blue was getting settled in his room when it happened. He paused, looking up. Then he smirked. The lights flickered as his Soul pulsed in unison with the others.

"I will take my place as the Eldgath. I will accept the Wyrda of myself and my family. I only ask we make it through in one piece."
He paused, then said.

"Papy, I'll see you soon."

______

Dust stiffened, blinking crazily as he felt the ripple. "Who's there?" He demanded, expecting an intruder.
But nobody came.

He gritted his teeth and growled, tense. His Soul shuddered inside his ribcage, though the reason why escaped him.

He reached out with his magic, sensing something huge happening. All of Alagaësia was reacting to something… drawing him in to itself. Dust clawed at his hood, taking it off and clutching the front of his shirt. His Soul pounded as Papyrus hovered before him in concern.
Brother? Are you alright?
M'fine, Paps. Just feeling weird.
I feel it, too. It may be a threat.
I'm thinking the same thing.

He stood stone-still, wary of attack.
Instead, his Soul pulsed harder, keeping him on high alert.

Then… the world.. shifted. A wrinkle in existence flattened itself. Vanyalí merged with Grammaryé. He felt the change, the way Alagaësia allowed him into it's future.
But he only felt afraid.

It tugged on his Soul, and he felt it reach into his home through him, using him as an anchor. But he only felt fear.

If it's capable of reaching there, then it can access the rest of the Multiverse!
And what of that?
It can bring them here…
Them?
E v e r y o n e.
That is indeed worrisome, Brother.
Indeed it is, Papy…

_____

Killer and Red froze from their shenanigans. Their Souls shivered as something changed. A warping of the world.
"Are we in danger?" Killer asked, only mildly concerned.
Red took a defensive stance. "No idea. Keep an eyesocket out."
Killer was perplexed, standing and tossing a knife from his sleeve into his hand, his position relaxed.
"Nothing's happening."

"I don't trust it, Kills."
"Tibia honest, do you trust anything?"
"That ain't the point here, Killer."

The lights flickered.
"Whatever, Raudhr."
"What?"
"What?"
"What the hell you just call me, Vergandí?"
"Wait, what'd you just call me??"
"I called ya your name, you called me somethin' weird."
"You called me Vergandí."
"Yeah, I called ya Killer?"
"What is up with- oh shit."

Red spun, expecting something behind him. There wasn't anything there. "What the hell, Kills?"
"No. I just realized."
The fabric of magic was twisting around them as he spoke.
"You called me Killer in the Ancient Language."
"I don't know shit about that language, how could I?"
"It's been happening to us, why wouldn't it happen to you?"
"The hell ya on about?"
"We all just keep slipping into it when half the time, we don't even notice we weren't speaking English."
"And why would that affect me?" Red crossed his arms.
"Why do you think, dumbass?"
"You sonofabitch!"
"Wait!" They froze as they sensed it connecting to their Souls.
They both said one word in their uneasiness.
"Fuck."

______

Cross froze, Chara blinking as they sensed magic changing. It's supposed to be called Grammaryé, that's what human wizards always called it… but whenever he thought of magic, his mind seemed to have developed autocorrect and called it vanyalí. It was mildly annoying.

Either way, it was currently twisting around him in wreaths of Fate. Not the deity he knew of from Error, no. The shapeless, mindless, nonliving, undying thing that made up this world. Eternal. Wyrda.

It bonded with their Soul before Cross and XChara could react, dancing around them as XChara flickered into existence every time the light faded out, vanishing when the lanterns recovered.

Voices whispered, though whether it was in their minds or not was unclear. But it sounded so real..
The roar of a thousand races filled them, monsters, humans, dwarves, elves somehow, dragons, gods… the list went on.

Cross felt a tear fall down his face as he heard his own family in there, Papyrus.. Frisk.. He choked back a sob as XChara covered his mouth, shaking. He fell to his kneecaps, letting the magic of Alagaësia do what it would.

Blädr…. No longer shall you be fodhr by your oppressor, but your old world is gone… rejoice, but mourn, dear pale one. 

He did as told, folding in on himself as he mourned freely for his long-dead AU… the other half of his Soul doing the same.

_____

Chaos gasped, feeling the breath being stolen from her throat, as she felt the wyrda around her change.

The darkness in the back of her mind was finally being forced back, further than the barriers that she had forced it behind.

Äfmanin, your memory can not be returned, but rejoice, you can make new ones here, with your family, your threyja can be found here..

She could feel it connecting with her Soul and she looked at her hands… Was it just her or did she see traces of black and yellow fur on her hands?