[Sans goes quiet, staring infinitely far away, trying to work through how to explain it. It was there, and not there, and there infinitely many times and not there infinitely many times. Like him, the last few days, but not like him at all. Wrong.]

I saw it. [He's sure of that. He keeps talking, laying down words like a train track he's trying to build even as he careens along it.] It pulled that piece of my soul down through the rocks, and it--it hurt, it did something to it just touching it, I felt it, it--poisoned my soul, or something, but it was still, like--that piece of my soul was trying to get back to me, right? And then I saw it. And it bit down.