A cool breeze blew over Destiny Islands as the sun sank into the horizon, alit like a brilliant red flame. It cast its glow over everything: the boats floating lazily on the surface of the water, the silky sand dunes that bordered the beaches, the cozy homes lining the ambling streets, and the laughing children splashing among the waves.
That is, everything except the one pinpoint of darkness— the one drop of evil that had the power to change everything.
Xehanort.
He stepped away from the corridor of darkness he had created in one of the stands of paopu trees, and with a silent, mental command, the tendrils of purplish-black evil folded in upon themselves to close the portal once more.
Xehanort smiled to himself, despite the unbearable waves of happiness emanating from all around. Perhaps, he thought, I will finally find a suitable subject.
He clasped his gloved hands behind his back, and then stalked along the beach, always halfway in the cold, gray shadows. Once in a while, he would find a child that seemed to show potential— a burly, easily angered young teen, perhaps, or a calm and confident growing intellect. Yet, they were all flawed in one way or another; too young, too old, too confident, too unsure, even too happy.
Xehanort needed someone who was just the right age, and fairly strong of heart. The child chosen had to be not so young that he or she was an annoyance to a Master as great as he, but not so grown that Xehanort could not raise him or her in the way he wished. This new apprentice had to have a strong heart, so that he or she could deal with Xehanort's way or training, but that heart could not be too full of light or of such strength that even a Master like he could not control it.
The slightest bit of darkness, even just a fragment of a vast heart, would be crucial to his plan, because darkness was always the key.
Deep in thought as he was, he tripped over the next child he passed, and had to bite his tongue to rein in his growl of displeasure. As he was picking himself up off the scorching sand, he felt a surge of fury. How dare this mere child get in my way! I should simply blast him into darkness.
Yet, he sensed a strong heart within the child. Could he be the one?
Xehanort turned, only to see a mere toddler flailing in the sand. His heart weighed down with a tinge of disappointment, but he refused to be deterred by this setback.
Upon closer inspection, he realized that he had not tripped over a toddler, but simply a baby boy, at most one year old. The little creature had long, silver hair, a yellow shirt zippered shirt, and soft denim shorts. Most startling of all, he had bright green eyes.
As young as he was, this child had potential; Xehanort could sense a corner of his heart, filled with darkness. He was not the candidate Xehanort had in mind for today, but once he was grown, he would be perfect.
He was interrupted in his musings by a woman's clear, musical voice. "Riku!" She called in a patronizing tone. "Don't bother your elders, now! Say sorry to this poor man you tripped." She crossed her arms and gave the baby a stern look.
Riku turned those lamp-like green eyes to Xehanort's face, which surely towered high above. Yet, the child showed no fear. "So'wee." Then, he waddled right back up to his mother.
As Xehanort continued on, he came to a compromise with his insistent side. Perhaps he had not yet found a proper apprentice, but he had a back up.
Over an hour later, Xehanort began to believe that his mission to find an apprentice would not be accomplished within the evening. Luck was luck, and he had his share already.
Just as he entered the trees and prepared to return to the Keyblade Graveyard, he sensed a strong heart behind him. Careful to put on his most kind face, he pivoted on the heel of his boots and turned around.
"Hi, mister." The child said, nervously trying to smooth his spikey blonde locks. "What are you doing?" He inquired, trying to direct Xehanort's attention away from the child's green, gold, and gray outfit and piercing blue eyes.
"Why," Xehanort stated, feigning surprise, "I am going home." A quick sensing of the boy's heart revealed exactly what he had been searching so fruitlessly for: A strong heart, edged by darkness that could quickly be harnessed into power.
"Where?" The blonde asked, his eyes widening into circles of blue.
"Oh," Xehanort sighed, "Only a place where Keyblade Masters are trained." He made it as though he were about to leave, triumphantly listening for the reply he expected.
"Wait! You can make people Masters?" The boy seemed astonished.
"Why, of course." He smiled. "I am a Master myself, in fact." He summoned his Keyblade, flourishing it into a battlestance. "I can train you in the art of this weapon. You can become a Keyblade Master!"
"Yeah! I want to come with you, Master, uh…"
"Xehanort."
"Oh." The child blinked. "I'm Ventus, by the way."
"Well, hello, then Ventus." A ten year old. Perfect.
"Wait! Before we go… I want to ask my parents. They'll probably say okay, but I want to at least say goodbye before we—" Ventus seemed eager to please his new Master, but he still had those weak emotions of goodness that Xehanort detested.
"No worries," Xehanort said, cutting Ventus off. "I'll make sure to tell your parents. I don't think they'll mind, eh?"
"Yes, Master." Ventus nodded enthusiastically, with his bright blue eyes trained upon Xehanort in sheer awe.
"Now, it's time to go." Xehanort opened the corridor of darkness, and stepped through. One of his hands was clasped in Ventus'.
Those blue eyes are still too full of light, he mused. I'd like to see a bit more darkness in there.
With that, the lights of Destiny Islands faded behind them.