At eight, he was certain. "I'm going to have one of those someday," he said, solemn as a small child could be, pointing to Master Keeper. "Just like you."
At thirteen, he was excited. "I've been practicing," he beamed, basking in the praise from his Master and brandishing the wooden Keyblade that had become his constant companion. "I'm getting strong - just like you."
At fifteen, he was driven. "With Ventus the way he is," he mused, speaking with Aqua but thinking of their newest arrival - young, unknown, and comatose - as, unbeknownst to them, their Master caught the threads of their conversation from beyond the hallway, "we'll need to protect him." Aqua replied - The way the Master protected us, when we were his age - and he nodded. "Yes. Just like the Master."
At nineteen, he was furious. "You may be my Master," he snarled, Ven's semi-conscious form tucked under one arm and Earthshaker clutched in a white-knuckled grip, "but you will not hurt my friend!" He'd become stubborn, headstrong, fiercely protective-
And in that breath, Eraqus realized that Terra had indeed grown up to be just like him, save for one difference.
"Has the darkness taken you, Terra?" he demanded, watching the black clouds roil around his apprentice. The glow from Eraqus' light was no longer enough to cut through the darkness seething in Terra's heart. The one difference between them had grown into the chasm that divided them, too deep to be crossed and too powerful to be tempered.
His grip on his Keyblade tightened, an attempt to disguise hands that shook as one somber, final solution sunk in: the only way now to save his apprentice - his son - was to destroy him.
At sixty-two, Eraqus was finished.
And at nineteen, Terra was shattered.