Chapter I:
Shadows
What is it about sleep that makes it elude us when we need it most? During the long, dark days when sleep is needed so desperately, why is it so hard to find? In the previous months it had come easily. All he need do was close his eyes and it was there, like a silent, faithful friend. He supposed it just went to show, you never know what you have until it's gone. And friends in dark times are a rarity at best.
The first attack had come at midnight. They struck hard and swift, sweeping through the town like a scythe through harvest wheat. The first few minutes were nothing but silent death. There were no screams, no pleading for mercy, or gentle sobs. Nothing but blood and shadows.
And shadows they were. Silky-slick shadows, whispering through the night. Black as sin, with claws like knives and round, glowing eyes floating in darkness. They moved as ghosts, no sound but the soft snick of claws slipping from a pair of ribs. Yet, no matter how many throats they slit, or hearts they pierced, the blood refused to stick. With a sound like rain it would slide from their claws. For they had not come for blood, nor money, nor land, nor power. They had not come for any reason we mortals could comprehend. Spawned from corridors of darkness they came. Pathways eternal, to fulfill their one, and only vice: hearts. They came from the darkness within our hearts, and hearts are what they came for. A slake that can never be satisfied, not even if the whole world were awash in red rain, and the hearts had run dry.
But still they came.
None understood better than the town's own denizen of the darkness: the hunger burned deep into their instincts. The same hunger that had once clawed through his veins. While sleep may have come easy for others, it never came so for him. Their relationship was more…wary. Akin to two predators, circling each other, both painfully aware of the others lethality.
The town's guardian had wandered under a starless sky, seeking answers to questions never to see the light of day. A wind cold as corpses sliced through his clothes. He passed the town's threshold, returning from another fruitless search on the edges of their home, intent on abandoning one pointless endeavor for another and returning to his bed. At least there he could get out of this blasted wind. Yet it was not to be.
Three houses from his own the guardian paused. His gut felt tight and tense. His bright eyes swept the empty street from under a jet-black hood. His cloak fluttered in the wind and a gloved hand slowly extended from his side. He stood in the center of a three-way intersection. The street was straight to his front and back, with an adjoining street leading off to the left. To his right was a line of houses. A dark mountainside loomed directly behind, suffocating the already clouded sky and wreathed by infectious vegetation.
A curtain shifted. His eyes shot to the window of the house immediately to his left on the corner. Nothing. The silence stretched out for an eternity, like vertebrae bent to near breaking. His muscles began to tense in spite of his effort to stay relaxed. A quiet skittering echoed down the street behind him. He turned, slow and deliberate. Still…nothing.
The vertebrae snapped.
Riku came back around, simultaneously twisting around razor-claws and piercing his keyblade through the shell of darkness. The heartless collapsed and suddenly the street was swarming. A sea of freezing obsidian bodies and piss-yellow eyes flooded from the houses. Riku leapt skyward toward the nearest roof. The wind ripped his hood back, stunning the night with a shock of silver hair, bright as starlight. He latched on the roof's edge and hauled himself onto the tiled stone. And he ran. He could just make out the watchtower, some seventy meters away, on the edge of town. There was an alarm near the top platform. If he could only make it there…
The heartless weren't far behind. Rising to the rooftops like smoke from the gates of hell. The human was fast, but it only took one misplaced step. One mistake and he would be just another bloodless corpse in a soon-to-be-dead world.
Riku vaulted the gap between houses, nearly introducing his Achilles tendon to a heartless claw. He hit the next roof, stumbling, and a talon meant for his throat dug deep into his forehead. Riku roared, feeling as if a jagged shard of glass was ripping through his skin. Then his keyblade severed leg from torso and the talons dissolved into twilight.
The tower was six houses away.
Flames reared on the edges of his vision. Houses, homes…people. Burning.
Five houses away.
The hard tiles clacked beneath his feet. The impacts jolted painfully into his knees.
Four houses.
His breath came in short bursts. His throat felt raw, salt digging into a wound.
Three.
Red tinted his bright hair. Staining his skin.
Two.
His eyes burned from blood and smoke.
One.
A slashing pain in his side.
He leapt.
Riku reached desperately for the tower's edge, blood running, blood pumping, nothing below.
Just death.
Just pain.
Just sleep.
Just REACH!
A single hand clamped onto the very edge of the steel platform, hanging from the precipice. All his weight ripping down on his fingers frantically trying to hold on. More blood poured into his eyes, blinding him. No sound but dim shrieking as the demons below lapped it up. Riku swung sideways, blindly scrabbling for the ledge with his other hand. He could hear the heartless just beneath his dangling feet; imagine the horde filling the street to the brim. Blood was everywhere: rolling into his eyes, pouring from his side, its metallic scent overwhelming his senses. Riku felt himself panicking. His breath was heaving, his heart hammering, his hand slipping.
CLANG!
His second hand found the ledge. Riku grunted as he pulled himself up, his breath hissing at the sharp pain in his side. He rolled over onto the cold metal, wishing he could just close his eyes and rest. It felt like ages since he had just…sat down. He shook his head.
Later. Time for that later.
He stood, wincing and dropping back to his knees. The world spun and swam around him. He was losing too much blood. Riku held his side, feeling warm liquid instantly soaking the glove. Grasping the watchtower's railing, he hauled himself to his feet. Head hanging low, he pulled the bell rope.
Frantic clangs rang out over the town. Riku only hoped there was someone left to hear them. But there was nothing more he could do. The heartless were starting to climb the tower and waiting any longer would be suicide. Still, he pulled the rope several more times. That would have to be enough. He dropped the rope and stumbled towards the edge of tower. He grabbed the railing, intent on climbing down while there was still time, when his eyes finally rose from the floor.
"Shit."
The town was ablaze. An ocean of fire spreading nearly as far as he could see. Sudden cracks and painful groans of wood sang through the night as houses collapsed amidst the flames. Survivors fled, dodging falling debris and weaving their way through the fire. Ash and smoke filled the air, choking lungs, and mixing with the sparks floating in the sky. Throughout it all were streets teeming with a river of coal. Heartless.
A young boy ran with his family, holding hands with his mother. The heartless were just behind them, but they were pulling ahead. The boy's short legs struggled to keep up and soot fell from his dirty blond hair. Tear trails streaked his ash-covered face and blue, innocent eyes rose to meet Riku's.
And he tripped.
The boy's hand was ripped from his mother's as he fell. The mother screamed, turning so quickly she lost balance. She crashed to the ground, reaching for her child, just meters away.
The boy reached for his mother, trying to get back up.
But the heartless were on him.
Teeming atop the boy. Slashing. Slicing. Hungry.
Riku looked on, frozen by horror. There was nothing he could do, the boy was too far away, there wasn't enough time…not enough time.
The mother was dragged to her feet by another survivor, pulling her away as she screamed and reached desperately for her child. But the boy was gone.
Riku dropped his gaze. Rough wood scraped his hands as he swung over the railing and descended the tower, and a lone heart rose into the sky. Twinkling, then swallowed into darkness.
Author's Note:
So...that was different. As it says in the about-this-story section you all read before clicking on this painful piece of writing, this is a tragedy. For those of you who don't like the unfortunate things in life like tears, pain, long, bleak, slightly depressing scene description, and sudden death, I would advise you to stay away from this one. I'm taking a shot at writing one short story for every genre I can think of (or find on the internet) and it just so happens to be tragedy time...which sounds like the title to an emo-pop-rock song, but regardless. Let me know what you think, just don't kill my ego completely, and drop me a comment. This will be a multi-chaptered affair, so stay tuned. Also, to anyone who's following me and was hoping for another Danny Phantom story I apologize. I'm sure I will write another. I just needed to share the love and try out some new characters.
Signing off, XIII.