Swirling in the air, he can see the stars bounce gently off the metal, see the moons unravel, see the universe collapse. There is nothing he cannot do, no one he cannot judge; the light is his and his alone. He is a paladin come from the heavens, bringing death unto the sinners. His blade is the finest, his word is final. He can hear the beat in his head, telling him to push farther, to become light itself, and he complies.
There's nothing. Sora-sky, light, light, light-drops from the sky back into the crowd, where he is nothing. The sinners are shadows made of people's hearts. He will never feel the splatter of blood against his face like all the heroes do. Never feel the satisfaction of walking in the light. He is nothing but a pawn in this horrible, twisted game.
It's alright, for those few minutes, he is always God, always something more. His Keyblade is a greater weapon, he is a greater weapon. He will become the light, become greater than all those before him. No one will think of stopping him.
Poor lovable Sora.
They think he's changed-more matured, more something-there's something different, something wrong. His smile curls, his person is unravelling. Sora's always alright, as long as he walks in the light.
His laugh turns into screams of happiness as he fights. His body writhing in pain as he pushes-the light he wants is there, so so so close-he's destroying everything. Shadow will never take over the light, Sora won't let it. Never Never Never. It's such a shame, you're a beautiful being Sora, the darkness will always want you-
If you had a choice, two doors, which one would it be? Neither, Sora is afraid of the light, so afraid of the light. In the air, he is God, light illuminating his very essence, on the ground, in front of these common people, he is nothing. He drops to his knees, this position is worthless, he is worthless, and the light will never favour him. He can hear Riku saying something to him-something kind, gentle, almost beautiful. He tells them to close their eyes when he chooses. Sora runs, the light is too much for him.
His strangled laugh echoes in Riku's mind, and he knows.
The darkness rapes him, makes him feel like something new. There's no dirt, no God, only mindless ecstasy. His body craves for more; the light never gave him this. His mind is crumbling, his body is decaying. He tries to summon the keyblade to his hand. He knows it will never come to him. It's much too late.
He lays there in a daze, naked. He can see a figure in the distance, walking towards him. The light is coming to take him home. He will be God, greater than all those before him. The figure stands over him, smiling. Sora can feel warmth spread across his stomach, he lifts one of his hands to touch it, blood.
It all comes rushing back to him, he laughs. He's a hero, he always was.