Who am I? Where am I? Pause. WHY am I?
He lifted a hand so he could see it, and stared at it. Did this really belong to him? He wasn't sure. He just couldn't remember. The few memories he had were of days spent on warm sand, with the sun pouring golden warmth over… over whom? He felt he should know them, those three who laughed together. Particularly the boy with the brown hair and the clear blue eyes that seemed to see right through him…
He dropped the hand and turned his gaze upon the pitch-black ceiling. Wherever that place was, it certainly wasn't here. This place held a chill in the air that made his skin prickle.
Gradually, he realised that the chill was coming from somewhere near him, and he let his head flop to one side to see what was causing it. A vast, towering doorway shaped like the keyhole of a door met his eyes. Whatever was beyond it was obscured by the shifting colours that made up its surface, but it still sent a shiver of fear running down his spine.
He rolled over, and pushed himself to his feet. Staggering slightly, the boy stumbled down the stairs, past the empty glass cases, and to the big double doors at the end of the hall. It took all his strength to do it, but he managed to slide a door across and slip through the narrow gap.
Outside, he leant against the wall, breathing heavily. "Why am I so weak?" he asked aloud, not expecting an answer. When one came, he was so shocked that he nearly fell.
"Because you are in the realm of light," came a voice, which dripped with irony. "We come from darkness, and in darkness we belong, so we are weakened in the light. We are working on a way around that, though," the voice added thoughtfully.
"Who are you?" the boy asked, forcing himself to stand upright.
A man cloaked in black stepped out of the shadowed doorway ahead, and sauntered over to him. "Well, your dress sense is better than his," the cloaked man said approvingly, looking him over and noting the combination of light and dark with touches of red. "And no more of those ridiculously oversized shoes."
"Who are you?" he repeated, tensing.
"Relax. The name's Axel,' he said, throwing back his hood to reveal a mane of red hair and a handsome face. "A-X-E-L. Got it memorised?" he asked, tapping his temple.
"What are you doing here? Do you know me?" the boy asked.
"Sort of. Anyway, I've been told to fetch you. It isn't safe for us in this realm, and this particular spot is one of the more dangerous ones."
As Axel was speaking, shadows gathered near his feet in dense pools until they began to rise up out of the ground. The boy gasped and pressed himself back against the wall.
"Keep out of the way," Axel snapped, and held his arms out from his body. From nowhere, a pair of spiked wheels appeared, which Axel caught. As soon as he touched them, they burst into flame. Axel leapt forward and attacked the shadows, the wheels flying from and returning to his hands as if on strings.
The boy watched in amazement as Axel fought, then yelled in shock as Axel went down beneath a pile of shadows. "Axel!" he yelled, and rushed forward to help. If he could only reach him…
As the boy's hand neared Axel, there was a blinding flash of light. The boy blinked, and instinctively grasped whatever it was he had in his hand.
When the light cleared, Axel was sitting up, looking at the boy, and the shadow creatures and his wheels of fire were gone. "So, it's true," he said. "You really are his."
The boy was too busy examining what he held to pay much attention to Axel's words. "Wow," he whispered in awe, turning the strange sword to see it from every angle.
"That's the Keyblade," Axel said, getting to his feet. "And it's the reason I was sent to fetch you. Now, let's go."
Axel held a hand out in front of him, fingers spread, and a slowly-spinning vortex of darkness appeared, wisps at the edges flailing in all directions. The boy shrank back instinctively. "Where are we going?" he asked, a tremor of fear in his voice.
"To see someone. Come on," Axel said, holding out his hand. "You can trust me."
The boy nodded. "I know I can," he said firmly, and taking Axel's hand, closed his eyes and stepped through into darkness.
"So, is this him?" a new voice asked.
The boy opened his eyes to find himself in a white high-ceilinged hall, surrounded by a circle of high-backed thrones at various heights, mostly filled with men and women who were watching him. He, and Axel beside him, were facing the owner of the most intent of these gazes; a white-haired man who exuded an air of authority.
"Yes, Xemnas, this is him," Axel replied, thrusting the boy forward.
"Very good. Now, be seated," Xemnas told him. Axel inclined his head and moved to an empty throne between a man with long silver-blue hair and another with short brown hair that stuck up, leaving the boy standing alone.
"Keyblade bearer. Will you serve me?" Xemnas asked. The boy thought for a moment. Axel obviously served him, and the boy trusted Axel, as if they had been friends for years. He didn't question the thought; knew only that it was.
"I will serve you, even though I am nobody and nothing," the boy answered, kneeling before Xemnas.
"Even Nobodies like us have names and purposes, and from now on, you shall be called Roxas, and your purpose will be to serve me as part of Organization XIII," Xemnas replied. He clapped his hands, and suddenly the boy was robed in black, as the others were. He gestured to the final empty throne, and obediently, the newly named Roxas took his seat.
"Now we are complete," Xemnas whispered. "Our plan may begin…"