Author's Comments: Here it is, my first Axel and Roxas story. No, it's not Yaoi, but a tale of a devoted friend. This story contains quite a few deaths, to make it clear, so no flaming, or Axel will set you on fire. Read and review, and please, if you wish to criticise, I only accept constructive criticism. I don't want any "OMG your story sux." Those comments will be effectively ignored. That's for my rambling. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the OXIII members or Kingdom Hearts. (Although I wish I did.)

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Umbra Incendia

The blistering fire seethed, licking infallibly at eloquent pillars of fallen alabaster. Orange-red spews of luminous flame shot into the frozen air, descending rapidly towards the lithosphere. The pernicious nobody stood taut amongst the smouldering carnage. In his disquietude, he had acted rashly. In his anger, he had condemned the entire castle to burn. Torrid ashes drifted in blankets over the cold land, falling softly over the grass that withered slowly. Only when he saw what he had done did he turn from the destruction. Choking dust rose from the muddied grass itself into the dark canvas of the night sky, where silvery stars sparkled in its depths. They saw of the terrible secret, but would never disclose it, for they too pitied the nobody below, and knew of his enemy's greed. A set of sharp, tiny knives lay scattered around the remnants of the castle's hall, the elegant carved pillars collapsed around them. Between the knives lay a pair of charred leather gloves. Near the throwing weapons was tossed a large scythe, its curved blade fresh with blood, with a bloody handprint on its handle.

Spiky locks, a fine shade of flame-tinged red, framed an oval-shaped face with indivulgable cyan-hued eyes. His arms were slender, yet not short of muscle. His frame was lithe, his tongue sharp and his features, despite a heart being not in his possession, were never devoid of false emotion. He felt the thin stream of blood flow down the gash in his side. He brushed the wound lightly and withdrew a pale hand splattered with crimson. Droplets of abhorrent scarlet fell to the ground below. A robe of purest ebony bound his body tightly, its right sleeve completely ripped off, where it pooled at boot-clad feet.

Axel.

Never one to miss out on a joke, he was the life of the party, the one so frequently adored, chastised and reprimanded. In fact, incidents both good and bad never occurred to him as serious matters, but just a part of life. An obstruction, if you may, easy to step across and forget. But this was one he could never forget. He remembered Roxas just like it was yesterday, with each vivid detail sketched like a work of art in his dreams, and in his mind. Axel had always been spontaneous, the complete opposite of his best friend. Roxas often spoke of his strange dreams, his recurring nightmares that haunted his memories each night. Something had been missing, Roxas told Axel, but he couldn't place it. He could paint a perfect picture, of a boy and his companions, but he didn't see how it was anything to do with him. Roxas would dream of a girl with waves of auburn hair, a boy with silver locks and of a King, of worlds, of heartless and malevolent deeds. He told Axel that he wanted to leave. Axel protested, he tried to persuade his friend, but yet he did not succeed as he watched Roxas walk away. Was walking away so easy? The redhead contemplated the weights of each consequence. That of staying and leaving. He wished to follow, and he would follow.

But they got in his way.

They said it was repayment for his betrayal.

"Roxas!" He had screamed, but no one heard him, only the silent void of the night as it took his screams in. He had stood there, helpless, as they took his acquaintance, his compatriot, his confidante, his only friend. And they killed him, so mercilessly. The boy's screams were too absorbed by the night, and he saw only the Superior's luminous orange eyes in the darkness, staring, staring at him. Accusing, an invisible record of his invisible crimes. He could hear Xemnas' voice in his head. Taunting him. He could see Saix's menacing golden eyes, emotionless, glaring at him from the endless path of darkness. Why did he have to be second-in-command? He had seen them there. Both the Superior and the seventh. They too watched his friend meet his fate. Why didn't they stop them? Why? A strangled sob wracked the pyro's form as he sank to his knees and watched the last bits of the castle burn and crumble. "Punishment." They said it was punishment. For what? For wanting to leave the Organization? "He will not live to meet the other." The Superior had said this. But he was a fool, wasn't everyone? He didn't know that the eleventh and twelfth were planning the conquest of the Organization. To overthrow Xemnas, to sit upon his marbled throne and greedily take from him his superiority. As the reaper and the woman stepped back, he saw Roxas fall to his knees. Darkness began to drift from his form. It drifted from him into the cold night air and vanished, evanescent. The air was as cold as Axel's nonexistent heart.

He watched his only friend fade away.

He could hear Marluxia's mirthless cackle, Larxene's wicked chorus of sugary words, picked and presented just for the Superior's approval. How could he even agree to their idea? It was just a way. One way for them to get back at him for what he did. Was releasing Namine so wrong? The freedom of a little child, chained so mercilessly to her chair by unseen bonds, bonds of fear that held her to her captor, the emotionless, cold Marluxia, along with Larxene, who taunted the girl day by day, holding her food out to her before pulling it abruptly back when Namine meekly attempted to touch the porcelain plate. But what they had done was carved into his heart with a single, painful incision. They had taken Roxas from him, and they would pay. His sane mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge. He would carry out his plan the following night. This night, as he now knelt and sobbed before the square of burnt grass where Castle Oblivion once stood. Silvery tears scattered like dewdrops onto the blackened grass. They were tears, but they weren't real. He couldn't feel any real emotion, and it was torture. He knew whatever tears he had shed over his friend's untimely death were farce. They were all farce. All nobodies were farce.

This night he had so dutifully assembled his plan, making sure nothing could go wrong. He arrived at the castle not a minute past his arranged time, and sat before Marluxia and Larxene. They surveyed him wickedly, smirks tugging at their lips. Painful words poured forth from their mouths, each syllable stinging him like poison, driving itself deep under his skin. It made him tremble with contempt, the heat boiled beneath his calm exterior. He hated the Organization now. Branded a traitor, a double agent. He had risked it all for Roxas, who was now gone, faded into the depths of darkness, and only resided now in Axel's memories.

"Oh, dear Axel. Have we harmed your nonexistent emotions?"

Larxene purred.

"Be still, Larxene. He's too traumatised to speak."

Marluxia added, although his malevolent expression gave him away to be utterly unconcerned. He punctuated his sentence with an arrogant snort. "Poor, poor Axel. But you know we can't bring Roxas back, can we? So too bad." At this, the pyro's anger was roused. A streak of flame drifted across his clenched fists. The room was now eerily silent, the gentle clinking of their robes' silver ornaments were the only sounds to be heard. "Don't insult Roxas." Axel stated, his voice rising in pitch and his cyan eyes darkening significantly. "Ooh, have we touched a nerve there?" Larxene cackled. "ENOUGH!" The pyro roared, releasing his fists as his chakrams materialized in the air, spinning in wheels of flame before settling into the nobody's outstretched arms. "I'll kill you all." he snarled. He couldn't even control his mind any longer. He was crazy, a madman acting on the impulse of his pretense emotions.

He watched as both Marluxia and Larxene summoned their respective weapons.

He lifted both chakrams, casting waves of flame and bringing forth a wall of fire behind him, as it melted the walls and ate away at the furniture. The waves coursed along the carpet, burning it to a crisp as it headed for the two offenders. "Tsk. There should be no fightining in our Organization." Marluxia managed to utter. A tiny wisp of flame brushed across his arm and he growled as it left him, leaving behind a patch of charred skin. "You pay, Axel!" He roared as he swung his scythe. Axel was prepared. It was either judgement or survival. He felt the blade of Marluxia's scythe cut his arm as his coat's right sleeve was ripped off unceremoniously. A large, bloody gash laced his pale flesh as he felt the sweet crimson pour forth like a waterfall. His teeth ground into his lower lip, drawing more blood as he tasted the iron. The scent of destruction was everywhere, but his fury only spurred him on, enough to rival Saix's berserker rage. One of Larxene's kunai stabbed him in the chest, but he merely winced and pulled it out, tossing the tiny knife onto the tiled ground. "You can't stop me. I won't stop until your lifeless forms fade away into the darkness, where nobodies like you are meant to live!" He flung his chakrams blindly into the rage of the fire and was satisfied as he heard the thunk of weapon hitting flesh. He could hear the muffled thump of two bodies hitting the ground. The flame crackled and seethed, before residing into nothingness as Axel's wrath resided like the ocean's waves.

And that is how he ended up here.

Staring up into the night sky, as if it could give him answers.

Now that all he had in the world were gone, it wasn't worth living this non-life of a nobody. The heartless that attacked him should have taken his life away as well, not only his heart. But it was all over now. It was all going to be over. When nobodies' energy were spent, they would fade away, just as if they had been killed. The pain and the suffering flashed before his eyes, as a trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. Axel felt the energy drain rapidly from him as he collapsed onto the soft bed of sooty grass, the stars watching over him kindly. A cool breeze caressed his bloodstained skin. He lay back fully, watching his life ebb away in front of his eyes. But it was all worth it. It was all worth it for a friend. A true friend, which he never had, not even when he was human. A friend...which he never had...it was worth it. The words repeated themselves in his mind as his eyelids begun to grow heavy, and he let out a yawn. He could see the specks of black start to emerge from his form and vanish into the night. He didn't resist as his eyes shut.

I'm going home, my friend.

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