Weird Silent Hill Au thingy that I decided needed to be written.

Too many, Radiant Garden is just a ghost town that survives off of the deep bellowing fire that rages on beneath its streets, ash and smoke constantly clouding the sky in a dark fog that seems to reflect the town's history in itself. The ash contaminated the air making it difficult to breathe, the way of the town before destruction making it difficult to live. Secrets clouded by a cult religion hid all that was wrong with the people much as the fog of sin and ash that now plagued the streets hid the true nature of the dead town.

There are some people that claim they escaped the town as the fires raged from building to building before burning out, leaving only the smoke from below to remind the townsfolk of what they had done. What they had created. Of course they were mere people of the town who had no inner knowledge to what was truly going on behind closed doors, the origin of the fire a mystery to them and their only concern was that they had no place to go. Information they gave out was scarce, only willing to talk when food and shelter was being offered.

There was one person though who was a child as he escaped, the memories a blur to him but some of the facts and stories still in place. He spoke on witches and demons that were burned alive in preparation for the new god to be welcomed, but before that there had to be a child born who had no father. The woman was chosen carefully, one that was pure and as in love with god as he would be with her. She was chosen on a night of a full moon, her body being drained as sacrifice to the heavens as the carrier of the child ingested her blood as a welcoming.

The story then fades off, his mind not being what it used to due to aging, but he still had more to tell. The child was born; not as one, but as two. Twins were birthed upon the sacred floor of the church, the alter ready to hold the body of the new god but things grew complicated. Words of betrayal and witches flew through the air at one another, the mother of the children being dragged off to the asylum as the children were placed in the orphanage. They were useless and unwelcomed, but the destruction of beings so pure was a sin punishable by death.

Once again the man's story would fade off at the edges, his eyes closing as he would try and remember the rest of the legend only to shake his head and claim to need a break until he beaconed the person who was listening forward again so that he may continue.

The children were named Roxas and Ventus, their childhood full of unwelcomed hate and scorn from the townspeople, and they did not understand the reasoning behind it so they took it with open arms and relied on one another for support. No one would support them or give them the attention like the others, the word failure being etched into their minds since birth.

Angels he had described them as, their hair a bright blond and eyes the clearest blue anyone had ever seen. He didn't know them personally, but his parents remembered them as one would remember a terrible accident. Every time the twins were mentioned the words 'witch' and 'unholy' would leave their mouth like a beast that was never to be mentioned. He dreamed of the children once he said, their smiles bright as he followed them into the church on a Sunday afternoon only to be taken to the depths of hell where he was faced with monstrous creatures he would wish upon not even his greatest enemy. Angels that led him on a path to hell.

The story picks back up after that, the children being tormented at school and punished in bizarre ways. 'Witch' being carved into their hands to bleed out against dirty desks, bodies bent in obscure ways to sit like that for hours. Nothing came easy for them, not even when they were summoned into the church as an honoring service created by the town's people. It was a week of praise and showering of love, the twins not understanding the sudden change in demeanor but accepting it like any deprived child was. Too bad the ceremony was just a trick to rid the town of the last bit of evil it housed.

The fire raged in the center of the church as they entered, the twins instantly tied down to the ladders that would be hoisted into the flames so that their skin may melt as the people gathered around to watch the demons burn. It was said that their cries could be head across the city, the ladders being lifted so that the fire may begin to burn at the wood and travel to the children. They faced each other in the flames, the twins sharing their last moments together as the heat began to lick at their skin.

At this point in the story the man began to sweat, his voice becoming shaky and unstable, but he continued.

The flames grew out of control, spreading from person to panicked person as they all dashed to the door which had slammed closed right as they reached the outskirts of freedom. The church went up in flames, cries mixing with the twins as the people below burned along with them.

It was said that the church burned for days without spreading until men tried to enter the building with intentions of putting it out. At that moment it spread like wild fire, jumping from building to building and scaring the town. It dropped to the sewers somehow and began to burn underneath the city, making it an unstoppable wave of destruction that ended many people's lives.

The story ends there, the man unable to recall anymore then waking up on the side of the road with minor burn injuries and acute amnesia that soon faded as he was fed and clothed. He bore the scars of an unknown origin across his chest, the wound seemed to be carved into him as he was a child but he had no recollection of what it meant or how it got there. No one questions it really, more interested in the tall tale he told about the twins and the city.

I promise this is leading somewhere, I know at this moment in time I'm telling a story within a story but the man is real and so is Radiant Garden. The ghost town of all ghost towns that is said to hold the demon twins that was meant for greatness but fell into fabrication as one became two.

If only Roxas knew that his dreams were what he had lived, and the burnt boy that tormented him as he slept was his own flesh and blood. But I guess that's a story for another time. A tale to tell as the memory of the gods fall through time.