Sorry for the several week long hiatus thing, school and such makes it harder to write. Finals, baby, finals.

I was feeling uninspired, so I decided to give myself a little challenge. Take any iconic location in the Kingdom Hearts universe – Disney Castle, Destiny Islands, whatever… - and throw it into chaos. A cacophony of utter destruction. An event that would/could potentially effect the lives of Sora, Kairi, Riku, Mickey, or any (or all) of our lovely protagonists.

But here's the challenge. Don't tell Sora's story. Don't tell Kairi's or Riku's or Mickey's story. Tell the story of a passerby, an onlooker, an obscure figure on the other end of the "characters we care about" spectrum. It could be a child, a villager, the king of some country on the other side of the universe; someone that we don't see in the games. In this case, the place is a newly reconstructed Radiant Garden, and the person is a guard. You never even learn his name. He's just there. But he has a story. So who says I can't tell it? This was inspired mainly because I was also tired of seeing throwaway characters that were only included to fill in gaps.

Try it with any fandom.

Superfluous use of the second-person…again. I'm still experimenting with it…Also a mix of past and present-tense; I'd really like some feedback on that.

Set post-KH2.

Words: 1,950

Kingdom Hearts and all affiliated characters belong to Square Enix. This is a work of fiction and is not for profit; it is for personal enjoyment only.

The curtains flutter in the soft breeze winding through the hall, deceivingly innocent and serene. They ghost on their hangings, lightly kissing the wrecked floors and fluttering over carnage too vast to remain unseen. Shards of glass, like broken promises themselves, clink on the floor, as scattered as the rubble and wreckage. Sunlight perforates the broken windows and mottles the crimson-stained floor; a floor painted by bloodshed, the same that streaks on the walls and tapestries and forever marks the place as one of utter massacre.

But you don't notice any of this because, hell, you're semi-conscious and the only thing on your mind is clouding, horrid almost-pain that isn't quite unbearable but you're sure that it soon will be…

The castle is silent, and somewhere amidst the debris that no person dares venture, someone – this someone is you - coughs and a figure – also you - stirs.

The cough is short and hacking as full consciousness returns and eyes flutter open, extremities twitching and life-giving oxygen flowing inward again. You shudder as you awaken, blinking drearily in the sunlight as the world sways. And then the pain comes, like a trickle and then a wave, and you know that somewhere you're injured but it's too much to tell where, too much at once, only sheer agony…

And after a minute – or is it an hour, a day, the briefest second? - some of the pain subsides and you realize, even through the dizziness and fatigue, that something is terribly wrong.

The silence is pressing and billowing and so different from the whirlwind of noise that was the last thing you heard…the last thing…the last-

You gasp and jerk back, away from mangled remains that aren't there (after all, the Heartless leave no bodies behind) because only death could create such a silence as this.

On your knees and now your feet, the pain temporarily clouded by adrenaline and fear itself, you wheel and cower because you realize that you are alone and your comrades are dead. It is only you, you and the crimson-painted walls. Your eyes dart wildly, taking in every detail of the ruins and the silence becomes only louder. The castle is deserted, every life taken except – miraculously – your own, and for a moment the trivial thought enters your mind of where you will work when this blows over, how the Garden will ever recover from a scar such as this…

A feeling of horrid, hollow emptiness washes over you, and you discover that it is not just the companionship of life that no longer surrounds you; the wards of protection, set by the Garden's most powerful magicians and spell-casters, have dropped. A spine-chilling cold sets over you, and you feel more alone and desperate than ever.

And on the wake of pain comes the memories, memories that you will surely suppress years into the future, but now thrown into relief so that you cannot help but look.

You remember the castle's monstrous main doors that dwarfed you and the fellow also on duty (though his name now escapes you in a consuming tempest) in their size, and you remember wondering why guards were even stationed on a perfectly tranquil afternoon like this one, with the sky purpled in twilight and soft reds still dusted in sunset. But then, it had been rumored that the strongest hearts were present in the kingdom, making it a veritable hotspot for the darkness to attack…

But surely not on this night, you remember thinking. Surely not, with the coronation looming and things finally falling into place, angered whispers in the halls quieted and suspicious glances quelled. Politics, you had long decided, are not an affair that you want to meddle in. Rather to observe from the outside.

Not that night…as irony would have it, you grouse. The pain still throbs like a flickering fire, and you lean heavily against the wall and try to ignore the splotches of dried blood, browning and flaked.

You remember quiet buzzing of talk that blanketed the Gardens as guests filed up the main stairs of the castle, garbed in all manner of lofty attire; high-collared shirts and poofy dresses, silk gloves and glittering jewelry and high heels, spotless to a point that could rival your own pressed uniform; straight-backed men and women (and the occasional anthropomorphic animal) that presented the very picture of elegance and power.

And it was after almost all the guests passed through the entrance that someone stumbled up the stairs, a tall figure flanked by two others; they were laughing and he was grumbling something, silver hair falling in a mess in front of his face.

"I'm not sure this is what you meant by fashionably late, Kairi. Your boyfriend takes longer to get ready than you do." His tone was condescending, but his mouth was upturned in a smile.

"I do not," a brown-haired youth retaliated, while a dress-clad redhead playfully smacked her taller companion on the arm she had secured in her grip. Their feet scrabbled for purchase on the steps before they finally reached the doors. The brunette was apparently oblivious to any surrounding company by his continued babbling of "it's not my fault the water pressure was terrible" and "maybe I'd be ready earlier if you, the amazing Riku, hadn't crashed the gummi ship."

Aside from their shenanigans, you would have passed them off as regular (though rather disorganized) party guests if had you not caught their names; yes, you remember thinking, this was the famed Savior of the Worlds and his companions, perhaps the most feared and revered people in the multi-verse besides the King himself…

You remember marveling at how young they were, all three barely on the cusp of adulthood. The tallest one – Riku – carried himself with nothing but confidence (even if his shoes were too small) as he gently shook off the redhead, who hesitated for just a fraction of a second before releasing his arm. She – Kairi,– walked with the same poise that possessed Riku, though her eyes darted upwards at the immense castle and reflected something that could have been nervousness, or maybe fear…before Sora's arm snaked around her waist and he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh.

And yes, then there was Sora, all energy and optimism that was apparent even from your brief observation. The hero, the one who had helped to restore the Gardens in the first place, the master of the legendary Keyblade, as fearsome a warrior as his two companions…

He couldn't have been older than nineteen.

What had they done, you had wondered, in their years spent traversing the worlds? What had they seen on the edge between light and darkness, where morals were forgotten and even the tried and true were pushed to their limits? You knew only scant details, rumors, overhead from behind hands at parties or banquets where the rich and haughty let words spill without care…

Your breathing is shallow and haggard, and nausea threatens to overtake your senses as you remember that those people (practically children, younger than you, and you wince at the thought) are probably dead, them and hundreds more…but how could someone who had supposedly slain more than a thousand Heartless, who had traversed the multi-verse itself and saved world after world from perishing, who was (if those rumors were true) the key to the most immense and powerful source of darkness itself, have-

You cough and shudder, the coppery taste of blood coating the inside of your mouth as your lungs spasm. The pain is still present, your vision blurred and your legs shaking and a terrible pounding in your skull…

You remember when the trio left and the doors closed. A peaceful silence had fallen over the grounds, interrupted by the comforting hum of the wards discernable only because of your ties to the castle's protection. You felt their presence like an underlying instinct; all guards to the Court and the castle could innately sense the state of the wards and those that branched from it, a failsafe for the kingdom to any unperceived enemy strikes.

The night wore on languidly. The first stars had begun to emerge, peppering the darkening sky.

But it was shattered by a scream, and then everything happened too fast.

Already the sound of cries and shouts and hurried footsteps rose as the massive doors were thrown open and people streamed out in a frantic mob. You could not fight your way through the mass, but soon found that there was no need; a black wave of something was exiting just as the guests were, smothering and slithering and you realize with a clench in your gut that this is real.

You remember sprinting forward, weapon drawn, only to be overtaken; your vision was filled by claws and flailing limbs and menacing pinpricks of yellow, the creatures snarling soundlessly with mouths that weren't there as they ripped through flesh and ward and weapon, snuffing each pinprick of light like a dieing candle as life fled in the stead of death and…

It was utter confusion, as you scrambled and dodged and gasped, that filled your mind and only intensified with the looming prospect of -…because there it was, that terribly cold emptiness, and your mind screamed…

No…no, no no no no, how could this have HAPPENED?

Thought and feeling were pushed aside, if only partially, as whispers of training and instinct started to reemerge. Flashes of steel blade and uniform and elemental spells plunged into the barrage of shadows…but then fear clouded over, gut-wrenching terror, because fatigue was setting in; each firaga a little dimmer, each slash of your weapon a little weaker as shadow and the crimson of the already-dead stained underfoot…from mangled remains emerged glassy, opalescent hearts that vanished into the night sky like vanquished stars themselves…screams echoed through the gardens, out of windows and from fallen comrades…and it was too much, and surely you would perish under the crushing weight of the darkness…

And then the world exploded, or at least it seemed it did, because one moment there's nothing but the suffocating blackness, and then there's nothing but a brilliant light as something ripped though the creatures, a blur of blue and black and vitreous, blinding metal…

It was instinct that made you duck and summon a shield, the translucent honeycomb expanding around you, because you knew that whatever this thing was it was damn dangerous…

But then you saw the crown pendant necklace, the same shape cut into the negative space of the key-like weapon he held, saw a flash of red and silver through the crushing blackness, and you felt a flicker of relief amidst your panic…then someone – it could have been a magician, or another guard, or one of the Wielders themselves – screamed something, and the writhing mass of shadows was permeated by flashes of lightning…and in all this, you saw an opening, light still spilling onto the gardens, and sprinted into the castle and into the chaos that beheld it, where unknowingly you would meet your end –

You are coughing and shaking, vision blurring as you lean heavily against the wall. The blood-splattered ground looks closer now, and closer still as your knees tremble and weaken and you slide onto the floor. The silence is still pressing, still suffocating, and you find yourself studying the bits of debris and cracks that riddle the marble, the dust that dances in the sunlight, the softly fluttering curtains, because they are all that you can see now.

And soon, even they fade, as your eyelids droop and your breathing grows shallow.

The world is there, as scant as the tiniest thread, and then it is gone.

I don't really like how it turned out, but I felt like I needed to get it posted so that I could focus on some other projects.

Tell me what you think.