The Void pulses once—then collapses.

Sans doesn’t move. He doesn’t scream. He’s just gone.

In an instant, he’s back in Snowdin.

The cold hits him like a slap. Snow crunches beneath his feet. The wind rustles the trees. The familiar scent of pine and frost fills the air.

He stumbles forward, blinking hard.

Sans: (muttering) "What the heck…?"

A flicker of light appears beside him. Clover. His ghostly form re-materializes, flickering like static.

Clover: (startled) "Where did you go?!"

Sans turns to him, eyes wide.

Sans: "I was somewhere else. Somewhere wrong."

Clover: (nervous) "The Void?"

Sans: (nods slowly) "I think so. I’ve never been there before. It felt like… like something grabbed me."

Clover floats closer, his glow dimmer than before.

Clover: (quietly) "I didn’t do it. I swear."

Sans: (tense) "If it wasn’t you… then who?"

He looks around. Snowdin is quiet. Too quiet.

Sans: (muttering) "Someone’s pulling strings. And I don’t like being the puppet."

Clover watches him, uncertain.

Far away, in a place no one sees, a crack opens in the Void. A single white eye watches. Silent. Waiting.