Prologue
In the shimmering vastness of the multiverse, where stars were mere splashes of paint on an endless canvas, Ink watched over everything.
Sitting on a floating rock amidst a colorful void, the skeleton with paint-stained clothes played nonchalantly with his giant brush. Each stroke brought forth sparks of light, sketching fragments of stories yet to be told.
Today, the air felt denser, every color more vibrant, every shadow deeper. There was a strange rhythm in this suspended space, as if the very heart of the multiverse had slowed to listen.
A new canvas appeared before him. A blank canvas.
"Well, well..." Ink murmured, his round eyes sparkling with curiosity.
He rose, drifting gently toward this open window to an uncharted world. His brush grazed the pristine surface, and gradually, shapes emerged, drawn by a force far beyond his own will.
First came landscapes: mist-cloaked mountains, silver rivers winding through deep forests, and at their heart, a castle with ivory towers. A kingdom called Auroria, where laughter once mingled with birdsong... until a shadow marred the picture.
"A fallen queen, a lonely princess," Ink observed, his light strokes forming the face of Elara. Long dark hair framed eyes of deep blue, already bearing the burden of a kingdom in peril.
But that was not all.
With a bold black stroke, Ink outlined a bony silhouette—a skeleton clad in a worn cape. A sideways grin, hands in pockets, and a gaze as mischievous as it was enigmatic.
"Sans? Really?" Ink tilted his head in surprise.
The multiverse was filled with versions of Sans, but never had he seen him like this: a knight. A protector. Was this a challenge from fate? A new facet of this ancient soul?
Ink let the paint flow freely, revealing other figures: Papyrus, noble and clad in shining armor, whose innocence contrasted with the aura of danger surrounding the castle. Toriel, surrounded by a halo of gentle flames, whispering ancient incantations. Undyne, sword raised high, ready to charge into the fray. Alphys, her gaze shy but her hands deft, wielding both magic and machinery. And Flowey, a small flower with innocent petals, yet whose shadow stretched far longer than expected.
Yet this world was not just a simple painting. Ink could feel the pulse of the budding story, each character brimming with potential. Elara, young yet full of courage. Sans, with that inscrutable quality that swayed between lightness and melancholy.
For a moment, Ink hesitated. Could he intervene? Add a few touches here and there, ease their path, or, on the contrary, deepen their trials?
He brushed the canvas lightly, and the kingdom of Auroria seemed to shiver under his touch. A breeze rose in the palace gardens. A candle flickered in the dark castle corridors. In the forest, a wolf lifted its muzzle to the moon, as if sensing an invisible presence.
"No," Ink decided, his voice lost in the ether. "This world must find its own way."
So he sat once more, his feet dangling into the void, resting his chin in his hands. His colorful eyes swirled with excitement.
"Come on, Elara... Show me what you're made of."
And so, under the watchful and mischievous gaze of the guardian of universes, the story of The Crown and the Gaster Blaster began, with all the weight of destinies at play and the promise of discoveries never before written.
