Hero
Garland always wanted to be a hero. His parents would tell him stories about heroic knights rescuing beautiful princesses from horrifying monsters when he was child. Those stories stayed with him when he became a page, then a squire, and finally when he had become a knight. He used his sword to vanquish villains, slay dragons, and perform a great number of heroic deeds.
But he was just a man. No matter how much he wanted to be good, no matter how much he wanted to be a hero, the darkness always called to him. The inky dark strands would sneak up on him when he was at his weakest and grab hold of his very soul. Within time, he became a corrupted shadow of his former self. He soon captured a princess, the daughter of the king he served, when he had always dreamed of rescuing her. It was then that he stopped being a hero and became a villain . . .
. . . And every villain must have a heroic counterpart. Garland did not know his name, no one knew his name, but there was no doubt that he was a hero. The darkness couldn't touch him; no matter how hard it tried it would always be burned to ashes by the brilliance of his light. He was the hero Garland had always wanted to be. Even after he had been defeated by the hero, even after he had been reborn as Chaos, even after he had fallen too far to be rescued, he never forgot his childhood dream.
He needed a hero. It was impossible for anyone to free him from the darkness. He wanted the hero to do what heroes were born to do. He wanted the hero to destroy him, to destroy the monster he had become. That was the only way he could be saved. Death was the only salvation left for him, but no matter how many times he gave the hero the chance to destroy him, he failed each time. Heroes never lost, they always beat the villain. Why couldn't the hero defeat him? No matter how many times he turned back time, no matter how many times he became Chaos; the hero was never able to defeat him. The only explanation he could come up with was he had fallen so far that the universe refused to let him die, refused to let him find salvation in death.
Finally, after countless cycles, countless chances, countless probabilities, the hero finally was able to destroy him. He did not know why the hero was able to destroy him this time; it no longer mattered to him. He had finally been granted salvation; he had finally been freed from the darkness. His voice had been heard. The hero had saved him. The last thing he thought of before falling into oblivion was the stories his parents told him, stories about heroic knights saving beautiful princesses from horrifying monsters.