Ventus was sinking. For a moment he thought he was drowning, but oddly he felt at peace. Free floating through this vaguely watery darkness was the most peaceful he had ever been. He didn't know how long he was going to fall, but he could see through his cracked eyelids that the light of the surface was getting further and further away. How deep was he?

Apparently the bottom of the depths, he found as he gently set foot on the darkness below. He looked around. Just darkness. He raised his head to the light, and found it quickly fading. Something brushed past him with a flutter, and then suddenly it was dove after dove rushing past him. Ventus cowered, his hands up in front of his face with feathers leaving glancing touches.

A minute or so later, he felt it was safe enough to find the source of the glow beneath him. Pale green light fell in through stained glass. It was him, depicted on the edge fast asleep as if he had decided to rock himself to sleep in the curve. The whole image was a circle. Beyond it was the engulfing dark void. There was an eerie noise in the air... not quite wailing not quite singing. Voices... Lamenting something... Ventus tried to make out what they were saying. His name? No...

So much to do, so little time... Take your time. Don't be afraid. The door is still shut. Now, step forward. Can you do it?

Ventus jumped at the voice. This one was much more clear than the others, and he swore he had heard it before. He looked for a source. Any source. He walked into the center of the glass beneath him, his feet subconsciously twirling him around to see every angle he could.

You hold potential...

Ventus looked at his feet, ultimately deciding the voice was just in his head. He nodded in agreement with it. Everyone had potential, he supposed.

This is very different. You're special. Very special.

Ventus looked up. His mouth opened for a moment before coming a thin, pouty line again. He didn't think himself terribly special. This was an exciting revelation. He spun around some more, seeing if he could find out whose voice this was. Old, gnarled, he'd heard it before...

You're excited, aren't you?

Ventus nodded.

The day you will open the door is both far off and very near.

Ven's face fell. Open a door? there was no door... No, there was one, right behind him. It looked like one of those rosier woods, a greyish, lighter form of the deep cherry red kind. Gold filigree played upon the frame and grooves, sometimes a gem winking at him from the metallic grasp. It was a door he wanted to open. He ignored the voice and tried to push it. What was beyond it? He wanted to know. He could feel something humming into his bones just from touching the wood.

Behind you!

Ventus turned around, and pressed himself against the door when he saw a small monster. It was black, ant like with antennae twitching around. Wide yellow eyes drank Ven in with hunger. Then, oddly, it shark back into the shadows from whence it came. Ventus sighed.

There will be times you have to fight. Keep your light burning strong.

Ventus held a hand to his heart, shakily nodding. Thank goodness that time wasn't here yet. But how could he defend himself? He had nothing. He turned to see the door had left. It would be long time before he could open it, just like the voice said.

Three pillars appeared. Lights shone down upon them, illuminating a sword, a shield, and a wand. All of them resonated with something Ventus didn't quite know. Something powerful. He was curious what it was exactly.

Power sleeps within you...

Ventus finally realized where he had heard this voice before: it was that kindly old man. Xehanort, was it? Master Xehanort. He visited today, asking about... About training with him. Becoming an apprentice. As if the voice agreed with Ven, it became even clearer that the gravely tone was the the master's.

Use this power to protect yourself and others...If you give it form... It will give you strength. Choose well.

Ventus nodded, and finally approached the three objects with trepidation. Were these what his power would become? The form they would take? What was his power anyways? He barely understood that.

He picked up the wand first. Something about the blue of the tip he liked. He almost felt a jolt of electricity when he picked it up, and the hairs on his neck stood upright.

The power of the mystic. Inner strength. A staff of wonder and ruin.

Ventus dropped it. He didn't like the sound of ruin at all, regardless of what wonders that came with it. He was honestly... scared by that thought. He went to the shield, passing the sword. He stopped to look at the blade, was mesmerized by his reflection a moment, then stubbornly carried on. The shield was warm in his hands.

The power of the guardian. Kindness to aid friends. A shield to repel all.

Ventus pondered over it a moment. He liked the warmth in his hands, the solidity. But it felt... timid. Reluctant. Ventus liked it, but it didn't quite match who he was. He turned it over in his hands once or twice, seeing if he could resonate with the vibes it had. It was a futile effort. They were on slightly different wavelengths, enough to cause a mild discomfort. With a sigh, he set it down.

That left the sword. Ventus held it, and instantly he knew this was what he needed to choose. He looked up into the light, listening to the voice.

The power of the warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction.

Ventus felt his heart sink ever so slightly. But he knew this sword was his. It was always his. It was something he couldn't explain, he just knew.

Is this the power you seek?

The voice didn't even need to ask. Ventus nodded. His eyes widened when the sword gently floated out of his hands. He reached for it. He froze when the tip was aimed right at him. It plunged towards him, and the dream turned into a nightmare in only a heartbeat.

One deep, sudden, plunging drum that deafened him right when the sword stabbed through his heart.

Ventus couldn't see. One eye was struck with darkness. The other was filled with light. He was blind. And then his heart. It hurt. It hurt so much. Something new was being seared into his very being while he was as blind and deaf as a child not yet born.

Your path is set.

Ventus was panicking. What path? Was this good, or bad? He still couldn't see through the dark nor the light. His heart was being torn to pieces. This was terrifying. He was confused, and it was this that finally allowed to occur to him that he could speak.

"I'm scared..."

Don't be afraid. And don't forget...

You hold the mightiest weapon of all.

And Ventus woke up. Tangled in his sheets, hands and legs lost in the folds to varying degrees like some kind of burrowing creature. He blinked. Once. Twice. A tear or two fell. Like all dreams, this excursion into his slumber was being forgotten, slipping away through his fingers before he could remember the warmth of the sword, the words he had been told.

He looked outside his window. Stars fell from the sky sporadically. He smiled and sat up, rubbing at his eyes and watching the dark as ink heavens. The dream was dropped further in his mind. Just another odd occurrence with no meaning, after all. He pressed his hand to the cold window, imagining the light that streaked through it was really falling into his grasp.

"I wonder if Master Xehanort will come back tomorrow..." He murmured, still somewhat groggy, "That apprenticeship... It sounded really nice..."

Yawning, Ventus rolled over, tucked his blanket back around him, and nuzzled his head into his pillow. His dreams resumed their usual routines, but somewhere, somewhere far and faint, Ventus could hear voices he had heard before.

Wailing, crooning, for him to wake up, to hold out his hand and remember.

I'm sorry I've been SOOOO writer's blocked on like everything but maybe this'll start up my writing mood ha ha.