If you don't understand what's happening, you should probably go and read Part 3: The Darkheart Crystal. Enjoy.

-T h e F r a g m e n t e d T a l e

Part 4- Breaking Eight

Prelude - The End of the World

We're going back.

Lilka smiled, arms folded, eyes looking out into the vast nothingness from which they had arrived almost a year before. Much like the path to Memoria that she could hold only faintly in her memory, the way to Envect consisted of multiple platforms linked together by narrow bridges, as though the method of entry was intended to be the same for every realm.

It was in the spot where she stood now that, two years before, she had awakened, not knowing who she was, why she was there, or who the silver-haired man who had come with her was. Slowly, over agonizing months, she was able to recuperate from the forced passage between realms.

The first thing she remembered was the name of the man who had come with her. She had seen him before, somewhere, before the abyss of the between-realms had engulfed her memories. Afterward, everything had begun piecing itself back together.

She was Lilka, a Crest Sorceress of formidable power. She was on a quest to find her lost sister, but fate seemed to have other plans for her. She had accompanied the Keyblade Master, Sora, from the realm they had begun to call 'The Kingdom' to the realm of Memoria, the realm from which the Kingdom had originated. They had gone in search of the Light, the true Light that created all things, and had made it through all the trials of Memoria, had passed through the gates opened to them by the Moirae, the Fates, themselves and entered into the realm beyond, a realm without fate.

It had been an irony to Lilka, in the beginning, to think that in a fateless realm, fate still seemed to hold sway- if, in defining fate, one meant a sentient, omnipotent force guiding the course of events to a specific end.

She had found that force, too.

With Riku.

The girl continued to look back into the past, her mind scanning across the memories formed in the realm at the edge of which she now stood ready to return. Her companion (and love, now) had carried her through so much, had kept her safe, had promised her that no matter what, he would never leave her side.

After they had awakened on the shores of Envect like a pair of shipwrecked travelers, it had been Riku that pulled them through to the gates of Envect. It had been Riku's cunning that had gotten them into the favor of the Envectian people (such that they were not to be 'purified'), and it was Riku who had managed, somehow, to unlock the secrets of the Thirteenth Order, to learn what the Eight was, and what they must do to stop it.

Thus they both stood, clad in the clothing they had been given as gifts by the people of Envect. The attire (as was the fashion of the people of Envect) predominantly made up of black-colored silk. Her hair, auburn and reaching down to her mid-back, overlaid the few straps that held her top in place; from this top, a length of silk fell in folds, the end of which was connected to a bracelet on her arm. A black sash was wrapped around the young woman's waist, which held a thin-bladed sword to her waist. Silk draped down both sides from her waist down, though the silks had been shortened on one side to make for easier movement. She sported a pair of sleek leather boots, within one of which she had hidden a small knife.

Riku moved up beside her, aquamarine eyes almost glowing in their brightness. His steps were soft; the only sound had been that of the dragging of the cloth draping down from his shoulders, a loose cloak of sorts. The makeshift cloak had a hood, which was now pulled up over his head, veiling the silver mane that Riku was well-known for.

"Are you ready?" he asked her, peering out into the dark with her, trying to see what Lilka was looking at or toward.

"To go home? Absolutely," she responded, turning her gaze away from the abyss and looking toward him. He glanced at her, grinned lopsidedly, and looked back out.

"Good. He's getting a little impatient."

Riku was referring to Mazeura, the man of the Thirteenth Order who had been designated to go with them.

"Why? Doesn't he think of this trip as more of a chore?"

"No… he volunteered. He wanted to see the Kingdom for himself."

"Then… let's go," Lilka replied, turning around to look toward Mazeura.

The man stood at the bridge leading to the platform, the last platform, facing the other two. He wore the black hooded raincoat that had become so predominant in the lives of those fighting for the Light. The hood was drawn down to reveal a bald head and a face which always invoked the feeling of solidity in Lilka's mind. The man wasn't old, per se, but the girl had been able to tell the wear of years and the weight of the Order in his eyes.

Riku turned, and nodded to the robed man.

Mazeura approached, his movements strangely flowing and powerful. The young man with silver hair knew it was better for one's health not to stand in the man's way.

"Are the both of you prepared?" he spoke, voice soft but filled with strength.

Riku nodded, and Lilka replied with a yes.

Mazeura nodded to the both of them, and walked forward, stopping at the edge of the platform. Without so much as glancing back, he spread his arms outward, closed his eyes, and fell forward.

The boy and the girl watched the man's dark form disappear into darker nothingness. Lilka looked to Riku, and Riku looked to her. The boy smiled, and took her hand into his own gloved hand.

"Let's go."

The two let themselves fall and, hand in hand, faded into the abyss.