His eyes wouldn't open. When he tried, when he attempted to reclaim something of light, something that would soothe his burning nerves, he was confronted with a blistering pain. Just a sliver of open lid brought agony, and so his eyes remained willfully blinded. There was no gravity here. No clue pertaining to his location. He must simply be in death, floating blissfully through the unseen.

It was the acknowledgement of death---the thought of no more continuing through battle followed by pain accompanied by fear…---that made his heart relax into something lighter. The talk of hearts was one in vain, for the young boy had too much on his hands involving the tangling of hearts to sympathize with.

Death. At least he should be able to see. Thoughts suddenly crossed his mind with an odd energy. What was his motivation for thought anymore if he was doomed to eternal bliss through a colorless void? But the renewed energy was there, somewhere inside the memory of his body. The energy felt wrong, however, as though it were unwelcome by the promise of emptiness. Certainly the rest of existence was empty; after all, it had left him. In fact, if his memories could keep up with the constant pleasant draining of the life, it was difficult to recall anything of his physical being.

Death was shrinking, and he followed it, watched as the memory of light was closed in by walls of darkness. He watched until the very bane of his existence was left inside a pinpoint spot of white right smack in the middle of a sea of nothingness, and thus his thoughts were extinguished. The white, which was such a color in his mind's eye, pulsed. Whatever conscience remained of the boy thrived for this sensation, and words ceased to come. Words and thoughts were replaced by the rhythmic beating of the white, and the energy, wherever it had been moved to after his body was dispersed by the consuming, black walls, joined the reverie his mind found with this light.

Three joined: Mind, existence, and energy, gravitating around this source of light, whatever it was, be it death or revivification. It held no significance that the most important piece of being was missing. It must have been to the walls of darkness that the child's heart had been lost, for it had yet to prove its presence.

The beautiful picture of harmony, oh, death was so beautiful. A kaleidoscope of the universe was held in his mind's eye, right there in front of him.

Close enough to touch…

Immediately, the energy spun out of control, and it was so difficult to follow, for it spun so very quickly. Before the two other forces were able to catch up to the burst of power that replaced the simple energy, the pinpoint of white exploded. Now death had too suddenly been re-defined, for the boy's body collided with his mind in the blinding power with such force that slammed him straight through the walls of darkness.

The balance was upset, the bliss was gone, and panic---utter heart-stopping panic, blood-curdling panic---was beheld all throughout this void. But the emptiness was no more, the walls that had only a second before been perfectly enclosing him in the ring of peace were now eating him alive. The curse of his body returning to him: he was now vulnerable to pain. He could sense the darkness choking him, wrapping him in opaque tendrils, attempting to separate mind from body once again, and he detected the oddity of the movement of this darkness. This darkness was alive, and it wriggled and jolted in a revolting fashion. It jumped all around him, licking him and painting him with its wet stench. This concept slowly floated into his mind, and, once it did, he found himself utterly terrified.

The pain and the emotion and the ideas, they all met with this energy that violently convulsed throughout the everything and, together, they surged through the darkness. The tendrils were ripped away without struggle, the darkness pushed heavily aside by the power of light that was now dominating this death.

It all happened in less than the stroke of a single second, from the moment of peace to the happenstance of discord ripping its way through the black and white blurred edges of emptiness.

And then, his heart returned, and this light was the only real light that had ever been.

He screamed out loud, and the noise blanketed everything. The energy was reunited with himself; the scream continued and it endured. It drained him of everything he had, yet it meant everything in the world that he released now. His voice cracked, and his breathing shuddered, and he screamed some more. The sound was altered now---he was able to recognize his ears now, though the pain of all else rose above such a sensation---and without further thought, he realized he could move.

Yes, his body was all there now, it had been generously returned to him by that strange light. He could feel his legs, his arms, his torso, and his throat, which was now throbbing quite pitifully from the weak screams he had just ceased emitting. Still, he was floating, and he wasn't sure where he had been brought to by the power from the pinpoint of death.

He tried, once again, to open his eyes.

It took all he could muster from his little ball of energy not to scream again, for the pain was much greater than it had been before. He had accomplished the act of wrenching his lids open, but was met with the sharpest, most penetrating light than ever before. The idea that the pinpoint in death, or even the power of the energy, had been anything close to light was now dismissed without further thought. Those were nothing more than imitations of light. Something to entertain him in his nothingness. But this here. This was real, and it hurt like hell.

The moment of seeing did not give the boy any sort of clue to his whereabouts, for whiteness eclipsed anything else that may have been there. But his curiosity was cruel, and it took advantage of him by forcing him to cover his eyes with his hands. Such a pitiful act, having to hold your hands over your eyes because it's too bright. But as such a movement was issued, his arms bent, and new sensations rippled along his arms. Because of that act, he now knew he was underwater. But his curiosity thirsted for more. He must not still be in death because there would be none of that pain. He was thrust out into the water. No wonder he had yet to breathe a satisfying breath.

A goal more important than sight now took over his conscience: dry land. His lungs were emptied with his screams and so he slowly sunk like a heavy rock through the water towards its depths. With sluggish strength, he was able to rock himself into a more upright position. He was startled to feel his head wrench from the surface of the water into glorious air.

Glorious, clean air! Opening his mouth, he meant to inhale but was overcome suddenly with horrible coughs that wracked his body and sent him into convulsions that made him writhe and flail out. Liquid spurted out of his mouth from his lungs and throat, and it was impossible to tell whether it was blood or water.

His left hand, working with the other to keep his head above the water and in the healing air, hit something hard and sturdy. All that registered in his mind was land. This was land.

Pulling himself up onto whatever this structure was, his coughs turned to dry heaves. Pain was coursing through his body, yet he had never felt so relieved. He had saved himself from death…. successfully pulled himself away from whatever the darkness had been planning for him and into this… this air! He could breathe now, but each inhalation was shallow and quick. Bent over on the land with his knees, elbows, and forehead kissing the surface, his ears recognized the sound of waterfalls. Multiple waterfalls surrounding him on all sides, from the noise. Where was he? The curiosity would never relinquish its hold, and so he did as it told him and clamped the palms of his gloved hands down over his eyes.

This time when his eyelids slowly parted, the pain was greatly lessened. Squinting as hard as he could through his fingers while still keeping his eyes open, he raised his head from the ground and gazed forward.

The light, he had been mistaken, was not white but blue. Wonder overtook his senses at the phenomenon before him. The waterfalls… were backwards. In fact, waterfall was an inadequate name for them since they weren't falling at all, but rising. He stood, stumbling once but catching himself, and slowly turned in a circle. He was right in his thinking that the falls surrounded him, for he found himself in some sort of circular chasm in the ground. The water below was not deep at all, for as it was so clear, he could see straight to the bottom. The surface he found himself on turned out to be a stalagmite, and there were many more throughout the area.

Blinking quickly, his cerulean eyes strengthened, and he trusted himself enough with the pain to slowly drop his hands from his face. Struck by the burst of energy again, he spun around, and with wonder, observed everything again, eyes wide. Maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe this was the afterlife. He'd never been anywhere as beautiful, as serene as this rift in the ground with the rising waterfalls.

His sense of boyish exploration suddenly kicked in, and before he could get better acquainted with his surroundings, he was hit with the uncontrollable desire to see more. What was above this haven? his mind persisted. He quickly and stealthily hopped from one stalagmite to another, ascending, ascending, until the stalagmites rose out of the water and were simply floating free in the air. He jumped, his energy completely his own now, until he landed upon a flatter surface make of stone.

Here, he paused. He was at the top of the falls, and before him lay a castle of indescribable proportions. It was separated from him by what looked like sky. Everything here was floating, floating in nothingness. Panting and swallowing, the boy wiped his mouth and planted his hands on his hips. Such a decrepit but beautiful place that seemed so empty… did all this belong to him?

Riku.

His eyes widened and, without warning, terrible memories flooded his conscience.

He'd been opening the door…. The door! The door in the cave…! To explore the worlds with the raft… The voices, oh, that man who, for days now, had been in the corner of his eye, constantly watching him, following him. Talking to him. Plaguing him with ideas involving the darkness. The door.

The door to darkness.

Welcome to Hollow Bastion, Riku.

It was the same voice, still following him, still there. It was probably watching him right this moment.

Finding his own voice, he looked all around, desperate for some form that could accompany that haunting anonymous being. There was nothing but the falls and the stalagmites. Not even the far-off castle gates held any dark beings of suspicion.

"Who are you?!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "Show yourself!"

An amicable chuckle.

Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you.

He was certain this voice could not be heard outside his head, for the noise sounded nothing like the sound of his footsteps or the background rumble of the rising falls. He wished, now more than ever, he had his stupid wooden sword that he'd trained with so vigilantly back on the islands that he came from. He felt so naked unarmed with nothing but his fists.

The laughter rang out throughout his skull, and he now spoke a bit quieter.

"How do you know my name?"

Now there was no reply.

A breeze blew at his back and gently pushed his long silver hair into his face. Whipping his head back, he cleared his vision with a stern look and a grimace at the nothing in front of him. All right; he'd be patient with this bastard. He brought his fists together and cracked his knuckles. The menacing noise brought him comfort, as though he wasn't completely helpless.

His breathing slowed after a few minutes of silence. He finally dropped his arms back down at his side and stood, glaring disbelief at the chasm of sky before him. So now the man chose to leave, after Riku had asked a personal question. Of course. He sighed as loneliness struck him. The peace of the environment barely managed to cover the fact that, all in all, this place was very sad.

"Well? Are you going to turn around?"

He let out an audible gasp and spun around, heart jumping out of his chest at the surprise. What he was met with was a tall, thin man of dark complexion and silvery hair, similar to his own. Riku spat out an expletive and crouched into an instinctual battle stance, feeling like an animal backed into a corner with nowhere to run.

The man chuckled once more and smiled kindly, as though he were after friendship. He held up his palms in truce, not revealing anything that resembled a weapon. His bright gold eyes bore themselves straight into Riku's blue ones and he spoke again.

"Neither of us has a weapon, Riku. Just relax. I know what you're after."

"What am I after?!" Riku cried in reply. "Who are you? You never answered my question!"

"My name…" said the man with an air of importance, seeming as though he'd given off his title with much practice beforehand, "is Ansem, seeker of darkness."

It must have had the desired effect the man was looking for, as Riku found this epithet disturbing. His memory brought up in his mind's eye the image of the darkness, the everlasting darkness, strangling him in the void of death. It had been… only moments before now that his survival had almost not occurred at all. Strangling him… tying him up… licking him… The shiver that coursed through his body was received by Ansem with a smile.

"And I know," he continued pleasantly, "that you are Riku, the fallen keyblade master who chose to accept the darkness."

"I didn't accept it!" Riku interrupted, panic playing on the edges of his voice as the feeling of darkness's cold embrace lingered on his skin.

Ansem started forward, and Riku backed up, eyes caught on his outstretched hand, looking ready to snatch the boy up. However, Riku's foot graced the edge of the cliff, and a loose pebble falling into the vast stretch of emptiness was more than enough warning to him that he should steer clear of the edge.

With this thought, his eyes darted back up to Ansem. The man was very suddenly an inch from his face, and before Riku could do anything, let alone gasp in surprise, his face was covered and his mind was lost.

A/N - Yeah, you knew that was Riku and that was Ansem, huh? Please review. I mean, really. This is the first serious fanfiction I've ever attempted that's not a parody.