it was gonna happen, Judgement softly echoes. A single bubble of black liquid slows, hovers in front of Frisk's face, and then pops with a sharp, deep sound. The air pressure in the room shifts, subtly but noticeably, and the light seems to dim. Here comes the heartbeat of the cell, heady and nervous.

but you came back, Judgement continues. i didn't know. i don't understand. you told me, but i still don't understand it.

Thick tendrils tear out of Frisk's mind like a tree being forcibly uprooted. With each one another bubble pops; something comes loose; she is trying to tear away, pulling on them like a trapped animal. you aren't free. what happened? i don't know what to do. what happened?