As he sat on his Keyblade Glider, deep in the Lanes In-Between, he thought in silence.

He wanted to simply sink back down, into the Realm of Darkness. He understood full and well the gravity of the situation he had placed himself in, and he was so very tempted by that small part of him that wanted to hide away in the shadows for the rest of his life.

But he knew that wasn't an option. He had just seen something that no one had probably seen for decades, centuries... maybe even a millennium.

His instincts told him that all these things that had happened over the last two weeks, his entry into the Realm of Darkness, his acceptance by the denizens within, and his encounter with the strange man in the Keyblade Graveyard, were all proof that he had been chosen, as he had already believed.

And for a moment, he thought back, far back, before he had become a Keyblade Wielder, much less a Master.

"You have been connected."

It was one of only two things uttered in his presence by a strange hunched man he had seen on his first home, so long ago. And now, thinking about this, maybe those words meant more than he had ever given thought to.

And then it struck him. Perhaps that was the best place to make a temporary refuge, where he'd be welcomed home as a friend, and not as a potential threat and traitor like he was considered now, on the Land of Departure... that is, if anyone was left there that remembered him.

He looked into the distance, and saw the Islands. The beaches, the waves... they had always calmed him. He made his decision, and began flying that way.

A part of him... no, most of him, he realized, wanted to look around, and possibly see the Land of Departure somewhere. But he knew better than that, at least right now. If he looked that way, he would be too tempted to go back, and give up his ambitions - His destiny, he thought.

Flying towards the Islands, his mind wandered to Eraqus, and their Master - Eraqus' master, he corrected in his thoughts. He had no master but himself, now. That was, at least, what he repeatedly told himself as his thoughts wandered.

How could such a wise man be so blind? He had learned so much from the man, but it frustrated him to no end now that such a seemingly intelligent person could not see the truth of things.

And Eraqus... he now believed that Xehanort was a traitor. Eraqus was the real traitor, he thought, and their Master moreso, even.

Thinking of this didn't just frustrate Xehanort. It angered him, immensely. Eraqus had broken their brotherhood, because of his blind devotion to the blind teachings of a blind man. He could have joined his brother, and helped to make the worlds a better place. But instead, he forsook friendship to serve an ever-expanding, cancerous light.

But neither of the two, regardless of his thoughts on him, would hinder him in achieving his goals and fulfilling his destiny. It was his destiny, he fully believed, to bring balance to the worlds, to overthrow the sole tyranny of the light, and give the darkness it's rightful place back.

He grew calm, however, as he entered the atmosphere of the Destiny Islands. He could tell it was nighttime here, currently, and thought of how symbolic and perfect this entry was. He made his way to the small isle that had been him and his friends' playground for so long, nearing a small platform fixed to the upper part of a very large tree.

He landed, and knew just where to go to. Making his way down a flight of wooden stairs, he reached the sand, and then walked to the waterfall, making his way towards the vine-covered cave entrance. Nothing had changed, he noticed. That was what drove him off of this world, but now that quality was useful to him - Disruption in his environment would only prove to hinder his thinking.

He made his way into the large room, and of course, there was the door. The same wooden, knobless door that he knew now had kickstarted his journey.

Inspecting the door, he felt something. He sensed something, behind the door. Perhaps it was his abilities he'd gained since his departure from here that allowed him to feel it, but regardless he knew something was behind this door, now.

The door was still locked to him, though, knobless as it was. He recognized that, even though he could feel something behind this door, because it did not open for him, it's reward within was not his.

He resigned himself to this fact, as he walked over to one of the walls. There were a small few drawings on the wall, which he recognized as his old friends' drawings. He traced his finger along the wall, until he reached one drawing that struck him.

It was, very obviously, a drawing of him. This affected him more deeply than he'd thought anything could at this point. Seven years had passed, since he'd left. His friends hadn't forgotten him. In fact, it seemed they had missed him.

He sat down, and looked up at the drawing, which he'd do for at least an hour or so, thinking about what might have happened during his absence. Were his friends still around? Had his parents been concerned, wondering where their son was?

He had questions, now, that had you asked him just a week ago, he'd have said he would likely never have.

As he gazed at the drawing, his eyes began to shut. He hadn't slept in at least a full day, and he was tired. He attempted to force his eyes to stay open, but eventually he decided he deserved some rest after all that had happened, and he drifted off to sleep.

He would later note that he had slept better that night than he had slept in the past two weeks.