#undertale!

STATUS: Subject contained. Vital signs: stable. Cognitive response: active. Vocal: minimal. Behavioral: subdued, alert.

Event timestamp aligns with seismic anomaly recorded three hours prior—magnitude 8.2, centered at Mt. Ebott’s outer perimeter. Initial field hypothesis: tectonic rupture. 

Updated hypothesis: impact event .

Atmospheric breach confirmed by satellite echo signatures. Light trail observed by multiple surface-level monitors. Readings were inconsistent with meteorological activity—too slow, too controlled. Descent arc narrowed within a 3.7 km margin of precision. Impossible without propulsion.

We believed a star fell.

We were half right.

Sans brought her in.

I was still reconfiguring the lab’s seismic shield when the boy materialized at the chamber doors, panting, jacket off, and cradling something in his arms. At first, I assumed an injured monster child—then I saw the glow.

The figure was small but adolescent. Her skin a muted dusk tone, glowing faintly at the edges like an ember in its final breath. She was dressed in little more than scorched fabric and Sans’ jacket, which hung off her like a blanket.

She pulsed. Not metaphorically. Literally .

Celestial light shimmered just beneath her skin—rippling like heat mirages, only more rhythmic. Structured. Her hair spilled in waves of incandescent silver. Her face was buried against his chest, but even that close, I could feel it.

Radiation. Power. Pressure. Gravity.Too much. All at once. But somehow, contained.

“What happened?” I asked.

Sans was sweating. A rare thing. His magic was jittery beneath his bones in panic, barely held together.

“She fell,” he said. “From the sky. It just… spit her out.” His voice cracked halfway through.

I asked how he knew she wasn’t dangerous. He didn’t answer.

Instead, he looked down at her again—arms tightening, like he was daring me to try and take her away.

I didn’t.

I ordered the scanner activated.

Diagnostics Log:

Human vitals: detected. Stable.

Blood pressure, temperature, oxygen saturation: within humanoid adolescent range.

EEG patterns: elevated neural activity consistent with REM sleep and—possibly—memory suppression.

Energy signatures: unprecedented. Readings exceed containment parameters. Cosmic magic? Theoretical until today.

There is a soft, rhythmic pulse of energy centered just beneath the sternum. It flickers like a heartbeat—brighter than anything we’ve recorded. Not a foreign object. It’s embedded in the tissue. Organic. Native. Sentient, perhaps.

She began to stir beneath the scanner. Her eyes opened slowly—luminous, wide, and strangely calm. No fear. Just quiet curiosity.

She flinched when the scanner beeped. Then, almost instinctively, turned her head and looked for him .

Even dazed and half-conscious, her hand found Sans’ sleeve. She held onto it like an anchor—like she knew if she let go, she’d drift into space.

Sans didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

“Did she tell you her name?” I asked.

“Nope,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his skull. “She… said she didn’t remember. So I gave her one for now. She said she liked it.”

“And what name is that?”

“Starlight.”

She looked at him when he said it. And—despite everything—she smiled.

A soft, small thing.

Her readings spiked. Pupil dilation. Heart rate. Neural activity.

She reacts to him.

Her body might be humanoid, but her core magic is celestial. The markings along her spine are constellation maps. When exposed to light, they animate—tiny stars trailing across her skin in living sigils. Some of them match archaic sky charts. Others? Completely undocumented. Possibly undiscovered.

I cannot determine her origin.

Is she human?

She has human cells. A human brain. A human heartbeat.

But also:

Neutrino trails inconsistent with terrestrial formation.

Dimensional phase echoes.

Energy wavelengths observed only in failed quantum fusion experiments.

Radiation patterns older than recorded history.

She is something between a girl and a singularity. And yet—

When Sans said her name, she smiled.

She should be terrified. She should be feral , confused, fighting to understand where she is. Instead, she remains calm—so long as he is within arm’s reach.

Her nervous system exhibits elevated cortisol levels, but the moment Sans speaks, the stress markers plummet. Her entire system synchronizes to his presence. This is not nurture. Not proximity. This is imprinting.

Note:Further tests will determine the nature of this bond.

But from what I’ve seen… It is mutual.

He hasn’t left her side. He doesn’t look like he plans to.