I do not own Kingdom Hearts or its related Media.
The Destiny Islands were a truly beautiful place. Sun, salty sea-air, and tropical plants in plenty. Nearly everything that the battered or lonely heart could want for recovery. As it was, the Destiny Islands were beloved by their locals, and by the rare off-world traveller alike.
Of course, this also meant that stray travellers flung out into the void had a habit of washing up on its beaches.
Waves tugged at the robes of the latest itinerant to be thrown facedown onto the sand, dazed and half drowned. One brave seagull landed on the shore near the traveller, sizing them up. To the bird, they looked fairly human. Stained and dirty though their robes were, they had been beautiful once. Not that a bird would know.
The bird hopped around the body, venturing a cautious peck at the being. The whomever it was groaned, pushing off of the ground slightly. Sightless yellow eyes set in an inhuman face stared back at the bird. Startled, the gull took off, wheeling and cawing.
Ira rolled onto his back, wincing at the aches and pains that still filled his body. Even with the mask that his Master had bestowed on him, the sun overhead was bright, broken only be a few fluffy clouds.
"What... happened?" His voice came out in a rasp. Carefully, he pulled himself upright and felt around in his pockets for a Potion. With a sigh of relief, he gulped down the enchanted remedy, feeling immensely better as it spread throughout him. Blinking away the last of the fog in his mind, the Foreteller took a good look at his surroundings.
"But... this is...!" There was no mistaking where he was. He recognized every rope and timber of this island. Ira stood up, ignoring the remaining twinges of pain. "Why am I at the Destiny Islands?"
He had read the Book of Prophecy from cover to cover many times now. Always, his Master's book had shown the island that lay before him, had detailed the important events that would occur here. From that, had they constructed the Worlds for their Unions to explore. He had visited them then.
But with the Keyblade War, and what had happened there, he could say that he should not be here. Not now, so long after the Age of Fairytales. He should have died long ago, and there was no mention of him in the Book.
Ira frowned, taking off his mask. If he was in the future, if he had done anything, his Master would have seen it. Since it wasn't in the book, his Master had not seen it. Yet here he was, sitting in dirty clothes on a sandy beach.
Ira paused for a moment in his speculation. If his Master had not seen it, had not written it down, then Ira must not have done anything memorable (Or, more likely, had stayed away from anything remotely Keyblade-ish.)
He looked at the clouds again. If he was to avoid changing what his Master had written, then he would have to, among other things, find something so ordinary, so mundane, that his Master wouldn't bother writing it down.
A fluffy white cloud drifted across the sky. It was shaped like an ice-cream cone.
"That's it!" Ira thundered to no one in particular. "I am going to open an Ice-Cream Parlour!"