Prologue:
"You are unworthy." The cold, emotionless, omnipotent voice declared.
At this, hands came at him from all directions, attacking his body, grabbing at him and ripping away everything he had until he was left defenseless; curled up, head down on the ground, face against his knees, back exposed to everyone around him, wings forced open, facing skyward.
His first instinct had been to fight back. Though any such will was quickly extinguished by his own fear and shame.
He had known the potential consequences of his actions.
He knew he had become tainted.
For a moment, nothing happened, and he dared to lift his head to look at the faces of those gathered to witness his condemnation. Most had the tired, reserved expressions of those who had witnessed more than their fair share of trials and knew this would be neither the first nor last of its kind. Some of the younger ones looked scared, while others only looked down on his naked form, disgusted and ashamed on his behalf. Only one amongst their number could still find any kindness towards him within her heart.
There was no anger among them. There was no hatred. Just varying degrees of sadness and shame.
Not everyone was fit for this existence. And those who couldn't bear the burden of doing the job properly were to be dealt with in a fashion fitting their crime.
This they all knew. Though no amount of knowledge would make the process any easier to witness. But they did their duty. And even as he knelt there before them, he knew he was deserving of whatever punishment he got.
He had gone too far. Gotten too involved. Broken his code. When he had made his decision, he had been prepared to take the consequences for his actions.
He was not, however, prepared for the pain of the cleansing fire.
White hot.
Scorching him to his core everywhere the lick of the flames touched.
Incinerating every remnant of holy light left within him.
Consuming everything that had once been worthy.
Leaving behind only the tainted shell of a soul who had dared to stray too far from its destined purpose.
Slowly the pain lessened. Not because the punishment was over, not because the tortuous flame was withering away. But because his mind was falling victim to the pain.
His immortality was being consumed by the fire engulfing his body, leaving behind only the mortal scaffold upon which his existence had been created.
Of course, anything mortal wouldn't be touched by this holiest form of hellfire.
As the last remnants of awareness were wrenched from his grasp, he held onto only one thought in his mind.
Sora.
There was darkness.
Nothing else.
Maybe nothing else had ever existed.
Maybe he had never existed.
He was aware of only the darkness.
No warmth.
No direction.
No self.
Nothing.
Well.
Within the darkness existed the numbness.
He couldn't feel his body, he couldn't gather his thoughts. It was as if he didn't really exist at all.
He only knew the numbness and the darkness.
At first, he couldn't remember anything else.
Except...
There should have been pain.
He remembered pain.
As if on its own accord, his hand reached up to feel the spots on his back where the pain should have been centered.
At the direct contact, the pair of fresh wounds with their openly shredded and raw nerves sprung to life. Sending a sharp flash of stinging pain through his entire body.
And with that burst of adrenaline-fueled fire, a flood of memories broke through their veil.
Memories of the trial and of his punishment came rushing back to him, causing devastation to shake him to his very core.
He remembered.
His entire existence had been stripped from him as atonement for his crime.
He had thought the pain of the fire had been his punishment. But was this his true sentence? To exist as only a vessel for despair and pain, with no knowledge other than of the destruction he had caused in his misguided delusions?
It could only be what he deserved.
Although he couldn't remember the crime he must have committed, he had no doubt this eternal hellscape of nothingness was his fitting punishment.
And yet.
There was a memory of a boy.
He couldn't recall anything about him. Not his face, nor his name. Just that he existed. And just that this existence was the most important in the whole of creation.
Where was that boy?
Who was he?
What had happened to the boy in his absence?
He had to find this boy and protect him.
He couldn't remember anything else. He didn't know anything beyond this fact. But he knew he had a job to finish, and that was all it took.
Finally, he had found his purpose.
It was with that declaration that everything around him changed.
His conviction dissolved the suffocating darkness surrounding him, and when he once again lifted his head, he found himself at the crossroads of two dirt paths. They each disappeared off into the night at each edge of the empty field surrounding him.
Slowly and carefully, he tried to stand. His legs, not used to carrying his tall body, shook under his weight causing him to stumble. To his surprise, heavy black fabric fell to his shoe covered feet with the motion. Once he had his balance, he stood up the rest of the way, only then becoming aware of the hooded cloak covering his entire body. It rubbed against the still-bleeding wounds on his back, but he couldn't find it in him to be bothered by such minuscule amounts of pain right now.
Looking around, he was faced with a decision. Four paths to take. Four directions to choose from.
Each looking identical to the young man who was entirely lost, having never been here before, any path would do.
But only one would lead him to the boy.
It didn't matter that he had nothing here.
It didn't matter that everything he'd once been was taken from him.
It only mattered that he had to find this boy.
This boy, more than anything, needed to be protected.
Even if he couldn't remember anything else. Even if he no longer held the power to do so, he had to find and protect him.
Closing his eyes, he just listened. Not to the world around him, but to his heart. Fragile and weak. Mortal for the first time, and withered to the point of no hope for salvation. Yet still beating out a faint rhythm. Whispering to him the only instructions he knew to follow.
And turning to face the chosen path, Riku took his first steps down the Road to Dawn.
