This is a story about things that are legend, and where the legends are wrong. Think of elves, but without the ears or the magic or the longetivity. All you're left with is the arrogance and the snobby noses; suddenly elves aren't as wonderful as you thought.
But this story is also of the nature of angels, of children, of hope and betrayal and conspiracy. This is the story of hypocrites, of the conception of demons, of confusion and of realizing things too late.
And even I, the storyteller, do not know where the truth died. Likely, it died centuries before I was born, shattered in a crucible of paranoia, complacency and xenophobia. I can see where the evils of others mirror the evils of man, reversed in the mirror of reality though they are. Once, however, I didn't. That led to this story being told.
There are two beginnings. One is with a young man in his twenties, by the name of Terra. He who, by fair means or simple coincidence, gave power unto three young children. Their names were Sora, Kairi and Riku; they met in odd circumstances, hazed over with childish innocence, good intentions and fading memory. They grew older, wiser, stronger, bulking and curving and testifying to the miracle that is age. Sora went exploring, Riku cultivated the dark powers that lay dormant within him, and Kairi grew more acute in the mind. Magic bloomed, friendships were tested, second sides were forced to live in the realm of Nothings. Roxas and Namine, Shadow-halves of Sora and Kairi, were created.
And then they came back. For six months after their return, their efforts were in schooling, the process by which humans become specialized and contribute to their fledgling communities. In those six months, Riku learned Calculus, Sora studied Social sciences and Kairi simply shook her head, helping them with homework. A blush, a stammer and a stutter once a week after hanging out together on the beach were all that testified to the changing dynamic between Sora and Kairi, while Riku made peace with his frenzied caregiver. Roxas and Namine were introduced into the silent islands, breathing in the sea-salt air as they did, and the locals soon integrated them into their lives. The guardians of the original trio were cautious, at first, after listening to the tales of their creation, but still they caved in after much sincere pleading. Life had changed, and stayed the same. The little world was still little, still peaceful, and still beautiful.
If the other beginning hadn't happened, that would have never been threatened.
The second beginning happened six years after the first, after Terra had been bound to his armour in the caverns of Hollow Bastion. Two figures, one bleeding and one dragging it to an abandoned shack further inland of the main Island, fell from a gaping hole in the sky. That night, the shrieking of trapped beasts and dying men haunted the island, leaving the morning eerily feeling like a cemetery. The stench of death lingered in the tiniest of traces, making the townsfolk shiver as they went about their tasks.
The police were phoned, and an expedition to the shack was made. They found the walls coated in blood, with a young man cradling the body of his almost-dead sister, tears falling onto cold, unfeeling skin. They called for Paramedics, and by the time the girl and man were placed on the stretchers, still bleeding from every limb even after a night of rest. They lay together on the hospital beds, not moving, barely breathing, showing no improvement as the weeks passed. They did not wake.
And then, one normal day, there was a flash from the ward, and they were sitting on their beds looking healthy and energetic, a bizarre contrast from the thin, gaunt figures that had been there before. The man looked a little different, but the woman was just as they had pictured her to look. They claimed it a miracle.
The man was skilled in magic, and after acquiring the capital to buy the deed to the shack and the land it was on, summoned marble and wood to build a small manse. His name, Naba. His sister was Feni, and they refused to talk about where they had come from. They were quiet and, while grateful to the populace, did not mingle, although Feni became Riku's ersatz big sister two years after she arrived when his parents passed away. They grew their own food, supplied their own needs, and unless a charm needed recharging or an obstruction needed to be magicked away, they kept to themselves. The townsfolk eventually forgot about them.
And then came the eve of Sora's sixteenth birthday. Riku asked Feni to chauffeur them to the place of celebration and back to the manse, where they would indulge in the teen's first foray into hard liquor. Naba, instead, vouched to go, claiming his sister was better at setting up the fixtures for the party.
This is where the story begins, in a little al fresco restaurant on the cliff overlooking the sea…
… and this is where the truth ends.